Yes Virginia, there is a Supreme Being....

Seven days from now, a great departure will occur in my life. A man, who technically was my nephew-in-law but was more like my son-in-law, will officially be divorced from my niece/daughter and will hopefully be leaving my spectrum of reality for good.  I would love to say with all certainty that he'll be gone for good...guaranteed.  Unfortunately I'm not in control of him, my niece or the situation surrounding their lives so I can only cross my fingers and hope the valuable life lessons that caused them to bump up against each other in the first place have been learned, allowing them to now move away from each other and on with their lives, war torn and weary, but wiser nevertheless.

Normally I don't give him one seconds thought because contrary to his opinion, the world doesn't revolve around him, at least not my world.  But it's been brought to my attention several times lately that he's attempting to spread rumors about me, about who I am and what I believe.  Again, I don't care what he thinks or anyone he's telling but it occurred to me that maybe people I do care about think the same way as he does....so if there's anyone who I care about that's actually reading this blog, then I'm here to set the record straight.

While he's probably spreading numerous rumors, there's actually only one that I care about and that's the one where he calls me some sort of "spiritual" person who doesn't believe in God.  Off the cuff, I wonder about the semantics of that sentence.  I'm not sure how one can be "spiritual" yet not believe in a higher power.  I can only assume the sentence makes perfect sense to him but I have no interest in delving into his close-minded world so I'm going to let that issue go.

I think the main issue for most people, or at least the people in my life who may or may not care about my beliefs, is the fact that they rarely hear me use the word "God", instead I talk about the Universe.  And I know when someone claims to be spiritual, it can be a difficult issue for some christians.  I understand that for some people, especially those born and raised in one religion or another, my beliefs may seem a bit "out there".  My differences may cause some to be uncomfortable even though I think they would all admit that I'm a very kind-hearted person with a giving nature.  Again, I couldn't care less about what some people think but it's not my goal to cause discomfort to those I do care about.  So let me address their concerns once and for all.

Basically, I don't like to be labeled.  It's too boxed in for my taste.  And I'm not a "joiner".  I know many people who love their religion and being part of a church congregation.  They enjoy the fellowship and commonality of it all.  I don't need that.  If you want to slap a label on me, I'm a Catholic.  I am.  I'm a member of the Catholic religion.  But to call myself that seems very hypocritical to me.  The last time I was in a Catholic church involved a camera and a vacation.  I can't remember when I last participated in Mass or took Holy Communion.  I'm not going to lie, there are things about the Catholic religion that I really enjoy. I like the ceremonial nature, the pomp and circumstance of the Mass.  I like the fact that when I went to Mass in Mexico and Guatemala, it was exactly the same message being offered to the congregation in Missouri.  I enjoy those parts of it.  But there are many things I don't like.  I have huge issues with parts of the doctrine and don't even get me started on the whole child molestation issue.  I'm not alone in my feelings. I know many Catholics who conveniently ignore the doctrine on birth control and have a liberal stance on abortion.  And hopefully no one agrees with how the church handled the child abuse issue.  But most of those people still go to church and still consider themselves Catholic.  For me, it's hypocritical to pick and choose your beliefs when they are such large pieces of the core message.  I'm not judging others because we all do what we've gotta do, but it doesn't work for me.  And yes, I know I could leave Catholicism and join another religion but truthfully, I'm just not buying what they are selling.  I do not need a priest, preacher, rabbi or yogi to stand up and tell me how to live my life.  I know the difference between right and wrong.  And I really don't need that same priest, preacher, rabbi or yogi interpreting the bible, the koran or the torah for me.  First of all, they were written thousands of years ago and have been interpreted already...many times with many different conclusions.  Second,  these books are parables written by humans.  I don't need these stories to be re-interpreted by yet another set of humans who somehow find it valid to pick and choose which stories have meaning in their personal religion and they'll let me know what to believe. I don't need someone standing between me and my God.  I don't need an interpreter; I can go straight to the source, thank you.  In all honestly I don't have the desire to read these books over and over again and I'm certainly not going to model my life after most of the stories comprised in their pages.  I know, I know, several of you just fell of your chair, crossed yourselves and are now on your knees praying for my soul but get up and let me explain.

I know these books are filled with actual first-hand accounts of what was happening at the time.  The bible tells us about the day-to-day life of Jesus, His birth, the days leading up to His crucifixion and His Ascension.  I imagine the Koran recounts similar stories from the life of Muhammad.  But they're also filled with parables that are similar to the fairytales we tell our children.  I don't believe Jonah actually spent three days in the belly of a whale and I certainly hope Adam and Eve weren't the only two people in existence in the Garden of Eden because that brings up the whole incest issue and I don't even want to go there.  So I'm assuming they were chosen to represent all the human inhabitants of the Garden.  And Noah really built a boat big enough to house a pair of every animal on the planet plus the supplies needed to keep them all alive and healthy for forty days?  I mean, come on.  These books are filled with parables that I believe, like fairytales, are interesting to listen to, easy to remember and come with a valuable life lesson woven in.  I don't take them literally but I do appreciate the message.  On the other hand, I have a problem with other parts of the bible used so diligently by many Christian religions as a guide to living your life "by the teachings of God".  A few examples that really stick out in my mind include, but are not limited to, how to treat your slaves and concubines or offering your virgin daughter to a group of rapists in order to protect an angel.  I have no intention of sleeping in a shed out back during my menstrual period and never will I humble myself to someone else.  I'm pretty sure the hair just stood up on the back of my neck, even as I typed those words.    

I think I've made it obvious to anyone with half a brain why I don't claim to be religious or call myself a Catholic.  For me, being spiritual comes from a much better place.  I try to always treat people the way I would want to be treated.  I know the difference between right and wrong and don't need the threat of eternity damnation to keep me from robbing, raping or pillaging.  I'm pretty good at not judging other people...I believe even the bible mentions leaving that up to God and I do.  You'll never convince me that not tithing 10% to a church organization will send me to Hell, but even so, I give much more than 10% of my income to those less fortunate.  I give to charities, schools, disaster relief and yes, I always give to the guy standing on the corner begging for coins.  I know many so-called Christians who walk right on by with the thought of "why doesn't he get a job" or "he'll only use it to get drunk."  Let me refer you back a few lines to Thou Shall Not Judge...again, I leave the judging to God and do what I can to help.  Luckily, I'm not judging you for walking by either....  And as for faults, I have too many to count but that's between me and my God.

And that brings me to the word "God".  Once again, it comes with labels from all angles.  If you call your Supreme Being by the name God, it's pretty safe to assume you're a Christian.  Call Him Allah and you'll be labeled a Muslim.  Native American religions often use Gitche Manitou to represent their Great Spirit and Judaism has such a high reverence for Him, they refuse to speak His name.  Roughly translated from the hebrew language, they use the term YHWH which sounds something like Yehweh.  And on top of all that, even if I chose to use the term God to represent my Higher Power, it still has more labels that really bug me. I believe in a "God" that is gentle, kind and loving but if you follow some Christian religious, your God is more of a Hell-fire and brimstone, damn your soul to Hell kind of deity.  So if I'm relating a story about my God to someone who has a different interpretation of his God, it completely skews how the story is received and I don't like miscommunication.  So I use the term Universe which translated means One Song.  To me, that means we are all connected and we all believe in the same higher power, we just call Him by different names.

So it turns out the rumors being spread by my soon to be ex- in-law are mostly false, as rumors usually turn out to be.  Truth- I am spiritual but I still follow the teachings of a Higher Power. False- I do believe in God, I just call him by a different name.  So there.  Bye-bye Jason and good luck in your next life.  Oh.....did I mention I believe in reincarnation?  But that's a story for another time! 

It only takes one....

What is it about human nature that drives us to postpone our lives until we have someone else to join us or until the situation is absolutely perfect?  Are we that scared of living?  We came into this world alone and we'll go out alone so why can't we live it the same way? 


If you've ever watched National Geographic or one of the nature channels, you've probably seen the scene where several hundred penguins are standing on the edge of a rocky cliff, shifting their weight from one foot to the other in trepidation.  There is usually a dramatic show tune playing in the background filled with tension and suspense to match the visual effects of the foam-capped waves crashing against the rocks below.  The birds in the back are slowly pushing forward, filled with anticipation from the safety of their position in the back of the pack.  The ones in the front don't seem quite as eager but eventually one of them just takes the plunge.  And like a champion Olympic diver, the penguin hits the water without a splash, nearly sucking the bubbles in behind him.  And that's all it takes.  Without a backwards glance, the other birds scamper over each one, eager for their turn to jump. All it took was one bird with the guts to take the plunge.


Why do we hold back on life's adventures...waiting for someone else to take the plunge first?  I realize my independent streak is wider than most.  Maybe when God was handing out independent natures, I went back for seconds.  Maybe that's why the waiting game puzzles me so much.  It seems like so much time is wasted waiting for someone else to clear the way or for conditions to be perfect.  


We all know women who desperately want to have a baby but refuse to consider any option other than giving birth.  They spend thousands of dollars on in-vitro and watch as it fails over and over again, still refusing to consider any other alternative.  Now everyone knows I'm a big fan of adoption but if someone else doesn't want to bring a child into their life that way, that's their choice.  If they want to jump through hoops to get a biological child, it's their business.  BUT, when in-vitro fails and the doctor says pregnancy is no longer an option, then live with your choices.  Embrace your life without children and learn to love your life as a single person or a childless couple.  Instead they often spend the rest of their life whining and complaining because they couldn't have a child and that's all they really wanted.  Really?  Half a dozen options are available to anyone wanting a baby, but you were only will to accept one alternative and somehow you've been robbed of your greatest joy?  I call bullshit.


People need to learn how to live.  Really live.  And they need to take the reins and drive their own lives.  I'm so tired of hearing miserably married people say divorce is against their religion.  Religion isn't a person, it's a belief system and if you truly believe divorce is wrong, then do whatever it takes to save your marriage.  Go to counseling and support groups or join a swingers club....whatever it takes.  And if your marriage can't be saved, then either get a divorce or learn to live happily in an unhappy marriage.  Or maybe you want to marry Mr. Right, buy a house, have 2.3 kids and live happily ever after but you've set your expectations so high that the perfect mate doesn't even exist.  Then make a choice and change.  Either lower your expectations to find a nice average guy who happens to be Mr. Right or go ahead and buy a house, get some kids and live your life.  Maybe Mr. Right will come along when he sees how strong you are.  Maybe he won't.


Why are some people so afraid to live anything less than the fairytale built up in their own minds?  Why sit on the sidelines just because the picture isn't perfect?  You want a baby?  Do whatever it takes to get one.  Want to change careers?  Do what you've got to do.  In a miserable marriage?  Bail.  Learn to live with your choices or make new ones...but learn to live.  It doesn't matter how you get there so why care about the details?


You know that old saying, "life's about the journey, not the destination?"  Again I call bullshit.  I don't care how I get there, just get me across the finish line.

The hardest fought battles bring the biggest life lessons....

As most of my friends know, I was charged with driving while under the influence many years ago.  Sadly on this particular night, I actually didn't deserve it...unfortunately not a true statement on a few previous occasions in my lifetime.


After returning to my parents home to celebrate Thanksgiving which just happened to coincide with my birthday, I had met several friends at a local bar.  In my defense, I did everything right on this particular night.  I made sure we all had a designated driver to get us home safely....a step I often skipped in the past.  I was actually proud of myself for putting safety first so when I arrived at the bar before him, I began drinking without reservation.
I've got to admit, I enjoy drinking.  Honestly, I like everything about it.  I like the taste, the way it makes me feel, the excessive fun I have...all of it, even if I don't always remember it all the next day.  I'd had three drinks when the DD finally blew into the bar like a tornado, laughing loudly with a couple of his friends. Sober he was not.  They'd just finished a bowling tournament, tossing more than just balls around for the last few hours.  Quietly I pushed my last drink aside, knowing I had been demoted to designated driver.  All my friends were drinking with gusto so I knew they'd object vigorously if I didn't continue to celebrate.  Pulling the bartender aside, I instructed her to leave the Crown Royal out of my Crown and Diet Coke for the rest of the evening, trusting no one would be the wiser.  My plan worked like clockwork and I even had as much fun as I would have under the influence...well, almost.  It wasn't until last call was announced that the problem begin.  A friend who also drinks Crown and Diet Coke had several untouched drinks sitting in front of her.  This isn't unusual when there's a large group of people constantly buying rounds for the table.  Since my drinks were pure soda, I had done a pretty good job of keeping up with my drinks so it looked like I was in a position to help her finish her last ones.  But as determined as I was to not drink them, she was just as determined I would.  She even threatened to dump a drink on me, all in fun of course, yet in our "struggle", I ended up with a soaking wet sleeve.  Not a big deal.  I tried to wring it out as much as I could and at least it got rid of one drink.


After the customary announcement of "you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here" was shouted out by the bartender, we all headed out into the freezing November night.  Several people collapsed into my car and we quickly began the drop off process.  It only took about 45 minutes to get everyone safely home and soon I was within few miles of my parent's farm.  I had noticed a cop following me for several miles but didn't give it much thought.  It was very early in the wee hours of the morning and I hadn't seen a single car on this stretch of road so I assumed he had nothing better to do.  I watched my speed and even stopped at all the stop signs to wait for no one to go by.  Needless to say, I was a bit shocked when his lights came on.


I was annoyed at being harassed but since I knew I was sober, I wasn't concerned.  Except for one thing.  Remember the spilled drink on my sleeve?  I knew it would be hard to explain why my car smelled like a brewery.  The highway patrolman walked up to my window and began asking all the typical questions.  Then he made me get out of the car to perform all the sobriety rituals of walking a straight line, counting backwards by threes, standing on one leg while touching my nose, etc etc etc.  I even had to breathe into a breath-a-lizer machine.  Much to his chagrin, I passed all tests but since he's the law, he decided I was intoxicated anyway and arrested me.


It took several thousand dollars and nearly a year to get the case thrown out.  It actually felt quite satisfying to see the judge's irritation at the police department for wasting the court's time.  It would have been even more satisfying if the officer had shown up but I suspect he knew the case wasn't going anywhere.  And I won't lie, when I heard several years later that his career with the highway patrol had stalled and he'd been demoted for misconduct, the first words out of my mouth were something along the lines of "ain't karma a bitch?"  But that's not the most important part of this lesson.


Sitting in the police station that night, waiting to be processed through the system, I was shaking with terror.  My teeth were actually chattering and I couldn't stop my legs from shaking.  My mind kept racing to the worst possible scenario over and over.  I traveled with  my job, flying all over the country and renting cars weekly.  If I lost my license, I'd probably be out of a job too.  And the embarrassment would be too much to bear for myself and my family.  It wasn't until another police officer interrupted my mental spiral into Hell that my terror turned into anger.  After looking over the shoulder of the arresting officer as he typed up his report, she quietly walked over to me, placing her body between me and the still typing cop.  Looking down at me with disgust, she said, "This is bullshit.  Hire yourself a good lawyer and you'll get out of this".  And with that, she walked away without looking back.  I never did get her name.


Yeah, this is bullshit, I thought.  I'm not drunk and this piece of crap cop is trying to ruin my life.  Who the Hell does he think he is?  I felt my anger boil up inside me.  Like a volcano threatening to erupt, my anger would bubble up and then give way to fear and resignation.  Sure, I was innocent this time, but this stupid cop represented the law and he was holding my whole life in his hands.  He could throw me in jail, take my driver's license away for a year, cause me to lose my job which would probably force me to declare bankruptcy and move back home with my parents.  Even falsely accused, my mind was reeling with all the possible implications of this nightmare, simply because I'd handed over all control of my life to the arresting officer.  He could literally make me or break me.


On the ride home, I sat in the backseat of my parent's car, watching the scenery go by but not seeing a thing.  Back home, I crawled into bed even though I knew sleep was not an option that night.  I laid there, staring into the ever brightening room as the sun slowly broke over the horizon and filled the world with light.  I thought about ways to get out of this mess, about possible attorneys to represent me.  I felt sorry for myself and I raged against the legal system. I'm not sure if I came upon the life lesson then or if it took me a few weeks to find it.


We've all heard the stories on the news of a drunk driver who crashes into an innocent family, killing everyone but himself.  Usually the story includes a piece about his blood alcohol content being over two times the legal limit.  I don't really know what that means.  The legal limit is pretty low, but it differs for each of us depending on your weight, when you took your last drink and how long you'd been drinking.  So when the headlines report twice the legal limit, it makes for a good story but I still don't know if that means he was falling down drunk or slightly impaired.  But it's a good enough story to make the national news, at least on a slow news day and either way, innocent people lost their lives.  Over the next few weeks I thought a lot about my predicament.  Since I traveled with my job, I really didn't drink much anymore and if I did, it was usually in the hotel bar with a few coworkers.  The worst thing we had to navigate was the elevator and remembering our room numbers.  But prior to traveling, I must confess there were many trips to the winery spent enjoying several bottles of really good wine over a long afternoon and a sketchy trip home that night.  There were evenings too many to count spent at a bar or a friend's house with nothing for dinner but one alcoholic beverage or another.  I don't think I'd ever been "twice the legal limit" but I can't say that with certainty.  There had been too many nights spent taking too many chances, always thinking I had it all under control.  Too many times I could have made the news with disastrous results.  Forgot the legal implications....too many times I took other people's lives in my own hands.  Period.  Too many times.


With that revelation, I made a promise to my God.  If I got out of this unscathed, I would NEVER drink and drive again, not even one drink.  So I haven't and I won't. But why did it take such a huge lesson for me to wake up?  Why did it take thousands of dollars, the possibility of harming someone else and a lifetime of embarrassment for me to be honest with myself?  Why can't we learn our biggest life lessons in the skirmishes instead of always having to go to a full blown war?

Nature vs Nurture and Aahh-Ha moments

Chit-chatting with a friend yesterday, we discussed my trip to New York and how the city's vibe seemed so different from ten years ago when I lived there.  We bantered ideas back and forth about why I felt this way, mostly pointing toward the recent changes I've made in my life.  Strangely though, as our conversation progressed, I felt like part of me was talking while a completely different part was listening...all while having another awakening.


Because of the changes made this summer, I feel much more relaxed and more in tune with my surroundings.  Obviously I attributed my newfound appreciation for the city to my new attitude but as we continued our discussion, a lightbulb slowly began to glow over my head.  


I've always been known as an old soul.  My ex-sister-in-law used to say I was born an adult.  My mom always said I acted like an adult at an early age because I was raised in an adult household.  But I always thought I acted the way I do because I needed to be a grown up, even as a kid.  The lifestyle of my brother and sister caused such chaos in our family, I acted grown up because it was safe, it was predictable, it was controllable.  I've always attributed the loss of my happy childhood memories on the choices of others, almost like the fun part was sucked dry and I was simply collateral damage. But while talking to my friend with the bulb of enlightenment glowing ever so brighter over my head, I slowly but surely experienced possibly my greatest revelation so far.


Discussing the changes I saw and felt in the city and in myself, I felt like I was watching a thousand tiny lightening bugs filling the sky and ever so slowly flying toward each other until they formed one great big giant starburst of light shining down over me.  I'm sure I'm probably not doing justice to this revelation, but I think the ahh-haaa moment came when I was telling him about a discussion I had with my eight year old niece.  We had been walking around Times Square for hours and numerous times she asked me if I saw this person or that thing.  Sometimes I had but usually I had to answer no because I hadn't seen whatever it was that caught her attention.  After probably a dozen times or more, she finally asked me why I kept missing these amazing people and events.  I knew I could give her a grown up answer such as "I am trying to watch for traffic" or "there's too many people" and she'd probably be satisfied but for some reason I needed to be straight with her.  I told that I was thinking, knowing another question would quickly follow from her....and of course it did.  Immediately she wanted to know what I could possibly be thinking about so much. I tried to explain that my mind takes me all over the place but that didn't seem to satisfy her much.  So I explained in the only way I could think of, telling her that while she was born to dance, I was born to think.  Believe it or not, it made perfect sense to both of us.


It was in that moment that I realized nobody stole my childhood from me.  I am exactly who I was meant to be.  I see the world the way I do not because I'm hiding behind a wall but because it's just who I am.  I have always been a grown up because that's just how I operate.  And most importantly I realized that had I been an impulsive, childish kid, I probably wouldn't have survived so well.  We teach our children that their actions have consequences but on some subconscience level, I've been basing my life on the belief that my actions are based on consequences.  I've basically written my story completely backwards.


I've always said I learn from the mistakes of others but I now realize that's only true to a point.  Yes, I absolutely observe other people, often predicting the outcome of their actions before they've even finished their journey.  But I now realize with complete certainty that the courses charted by others often aren't anything I'd ever be involved in anyway.  Yes I can observe the repercussions of their actions and say with great relief that I'll never follow in their footsteps but it's a path I have no interest in exploring anyway.


I've finally discovered that I came into this world this way.  I am who I am not because of my upbringing or my environment but because it's my nature.  I've given too much credit to outside forces and not enough to myself. So now I know, going forward, that all decisions made by me are truly being made by me.  It's a nice feeling.

and so life begins again....

I quit my job, fully intent on rolling up my sleeves and  building the life I was born to live.  But I didn't.  I didn't realize that 20+ years of working in corporate America had left a waxy buildup on my psyche.  It didn't occur to me that 20+ years of pretending to be someone I'm not would leave a mark, requiring time to shake it off.  I had no idea.  So instead I spent the summer turning over new leaves, discovering the real me while thinking about nothing and everything at the same time.  I got acquainted with my sons for the first time really.  I tweaked my relationship with my nieces, enhancing it a bit. I changed. I grew.  I blossomed.  I gave birth to parts of myself I didn't know existed and let other parts die a gentle death.  I became me.


After a long and eventful summer, it's now time to begin a next chapter as the new me.  Stories and ideas have been swirling around in my head but I haven't taken the time to develop them beyond the outline stage.  Yet I am eager to begin my new life...hungry to explore who I will really become.  It's time to write.  It's time to put pen to paper, time to develop random ideas into cohesive stories. It's time to get lost in my thoughts so I can find my dreams. It's time to begin anew....to renew and reshape myself.


And so I must say good-bye to my friends for awhile.  I need to hibernate with my imagination for the next few months without distractions.  I most certainly will get lost in my story but when I emerge from my cocoon, I'll be a beautiful butterfly.  I know this sounds a bit extreme to some, but like a method actor, I become engulfed by my characters and their lives.  I'm always surprised by where they lead me.  Ideas form rapidly in my mind but are lost just as quickly if I'm distracted.  Thoughts move through my mind like smoke rings drifting through the air, offering their capture for only a few hasty seconds before dissipating forever. Some of the greatest writers in history would disappear completely to an exotic location or a summer house on the shore when they were writing the next great novel but I don't have that luxury, at least not yet.  Instead I have all day when my kids are in school.  It's not glamourous but it'll do for now.


My sleeves are rolled up and my pencils sharpened ...metaphorically speaking...so the next chapter begins ....

see life thru a child's eyes

Here I am in New York City.  I can't help but feel a bit nostalgic when I think about the last time I was in this city.  Only a few days before 9/11, I was standing in the first tower of the World Trade Center to meet my uncle for lunch at his office.  I remember looking around that massive building, trying to imagine how difficult and scary it must have been for the occupants when the car bombs exploded in 1993.  I couldn't imagine trying to get out of 110 story building under attack.  Little did I know my uncle would be doing just that in just a few short days.


But now I'm back in the city with my 8-year old niece and seeing it again with a fresh perspective.  I'm not going to lie.  New York City is a great place to visit.  Everyone should see it at least once in their life and I have every intention of bringing my sons here to see the Thanksgiving Day parade and spend a few days soaking in the atmosphere and culture when they're old enough to appreciate it.  And if I'm ever filthy rich, I wouldn't mind having an apartment in the city to visit a few times a year but I have no desire to live here fulltime.  I suppose I could get used to the masses of people and maybe even the fact that I never really feel clean here.  I've driven in the crazy traffic here before so I might learn to enjoy accelerating at full speed and stopping on a dime....and I'd even develop the patience to sit in traffic for God knows how many hours a week.  But all the concrete with so little green space.  I just don't see how I'd ever learn to love that part... short of building a house in the middle of Central Park, which I think they'd frown on.


So here I am back in the Big Apple with an eight-year old who sees this place as the world's biggest adventure park.  Of course she's using Toysrus and FAO Schwartz as her guide, but she really sees beauty in the whole city.  I think I realized I was in for an awakening when we in the taxi coming in from the airport.  Whizzing by were lots of old buildings covered with graffiti and razorwire.  One building in particular caught my attention, probably because of it's odd design.  It was sort of building like a X with little iron balconies filling in the corners.  I'd say it was very old with dark brown brick, probably 50+ stories high with plastic lawn furniture and little hibachi grills covering the tiny balconies.  I can't really explain it but there was something about the dark dreary color and junky balconies that just seemed sad looking to me.  The thought of living in such a confined space made me feel almost nauseous.  My niece noticed me staring at this poor, pathetic deathtrap and without any hesitation said, "Now that's a nice building"! 


And there you have it, folks.  That says it all.  Seeing an old city through new eyes.

Last call........

I continue to hear through the grapevine that a few of my friends are concerned about me possibly being depressed.  I have no idea if this is old news or if they still feel this way, but I'll address it one more time with a new spin.


I realize that my blog is raw and somewhat deep.  I also realize I haven't shared my thoughts with most people so it must seem really out of the blue.  But guys, this is me....the real me.  I don't know how you expect me to live the life I've lived and not have raw thoughts and deeply searching questions about life and our role in it.  But what may seem raw to you is actually refreshing and exciting to me.  I love digging and searching the deepest recesses of our minds, hearts and souls.  I enjoy analyzing a situation from all angles, hunting for the answer to life's toughest questions.


The voices in my head are inquisitive.  I don't know how to explain it any better than that and truthfully, I have no intention of trying.  I'm done justifying myself.  I've lived a life full of closeted pain but I'm out now.  You'll never again have to wonder if I'm hurting because I'm letting it all out. These are the voices in my head.  If the voices in your head keep telling you I'm depressed, you have to live with them not me.  Because I'm done with this subject and I'm moving on.....


more to come from New York City!!!

The many faces of me....

I had dinner last night with a good friend.  It was very typical for us..a little light shopping, then the exact same meal we get every time we go to PF Chang's and a lot of conversation and laughing.  She's definitely one of my true friends.  My mom always says a woman should have a few friends that you may not talk to for years, but if you called them at three in the morning to ask for help, their only response would be "I'm on my way"....  I say if you get arrested for killing someone and burying the body, these are the girls who'll be sitting next to you in jail with dirt under their fingernails.  I have a few friends back home and a few here who definitely carry a shovel in the trunk of their car...just in case.


At dinner last night, we caught up on our mutual friends and what's going on in their lives.  Not in a gossiping "oh my God have you heard the latest" sort of way but in an "I wish they saw in themselves what we see" kinda way.  Same things we say to their faces but they don't listen to us then either.  We talked about the antics of our kids, of which there were plenty, and  we talked about ourselves.  She is definitely in that inner circle of people I can totally be myself with.  She gives great advice but is quick to call me out if I'm making excuses about one thing or another.  I'd definitely bury a body with her.


After a few hours of great conversation, I couldn't wind down and go to sleep.  I was thinking about the people in my life and my relationships with them.  It really made me realize how much I compartmentalize my personality.  Something I suspect we all do.


 I have this very small group of friends who know all the good, bad and ugly parts of my life and love me anyway.  They would defend me to the end and even if they don't like what I'm doing, they don't judge me for it.  These are the best type of friends to have and I can only hope I'm as good a friend to them and they are to me.  I also have a group of really good friends who would do anything for me but would definitely question my sanity, often expressing their concerns to other people instead of me.  Still a great group of friends to have, but they probably wouldn't lie for me on the witness stand.  From there the list descends down into acquaintances, friends of friends, coworkers, neighbors and the moms you sit with during your kids gymnastics class every Thursday night.


I think about who I am with each of those people, what piece of my reality I share with them.  They definitely don't see the fully open, no secrets girl who had dinner last night at PF Chang's.  It doesn't help that I live smack dap in the heart of a conservative, religious right, bible-thumping red state where everyone, and I do mean everyone, you meet either works for Walmart, works for a vendor to Walmart or has family who fits into one of those two categories.  And since I'm so liberal if I lean any farther to the left, I'll probably fall off the planet and I consider myself extremely spiritual but not even remotely religious, I've found it's best for my own piece of mind to temper my comments and outbursts until I find myself in the safety of my like-minded friends.


Obviously we aren't going to fully expose our true selves to neighbors and fellow soccer moms, but why do we categorize our friends and family?  I can guarantee that I could go on vacation with a group of friends, or my mom, or my kids, or my nieces or the whole group and I'd have a great time but I'd be a completely different person in each scenario.  And I think my opinion of the vacation spot would even differ within each group.  Some differences are obvious.  I'm not going to do any heavy drinking with my kids  and the excursions would be totally different for each group.  These variables make each experience different, but I also know my experience would be different on other levels to.  For example, I went on a spa weekend with five girlfriends recently.  It could have easily been a disaster with six women, all wanting a completely different experience from clubbing to relaxing to shopping.  But I think a good time was had by all.  No one seemed dead-set on getting their way even though it probably would have made the trip perfect for them.  And I noticed we had a tendency to split off into groups of two or three most of the time, yet never the same groups.  It gave us all a chance to spend some time together with each person and still enjoy the group.  It felt like the perfect balance although I'm sure had we subtracted one girl or added another, the whole dynamic would have been different...I would have been different.  But with this particular group of girls, I was myself so when a few went clubbing, no one was offended when I chose instead to go back to the hotel with the pregnant girl.  Of course they made me pay for it when they drug their butts back in the wee hours of the morning and jumped in the middle of my bed but that was so much better than making me go with them.


The whole weekend was just a good fit.  I don't know why it took us eighteen months to pull it together and once again we've promised to make it an annual event....hopefully it'll really happen again next year.  But it makes me wonder why we can be ourselves in a group like this and yet we fake it in others?  And more importantly, why can't we just be honest and tell our friends that maybe we just don't fit in the same groups anymore?  It doesn't mean you care any less for them, it just means you might not bury a body for them again.

It's time to be honest....we really are what we seek, aren't we?

I've been thinking a lot about rules, laws, social morality...the underlying structure of the foundation our society is built on.  It seems like no matter where you grew up, no matter what your cultural or racial background consists of, the basis tenants of humanity are the same.  While I have no proof to base my assumptions on, I suspect even the remotest tribal communities in the Amazon rainforest have the same basic social ideas.  In a similar fashion, almost all religions on the planet today believe in a higher power and life after death is one form or another even though the doctrines of each religion may be vastly different.


It seems to me that almost everything we do, every life experience, is based on one of two simple rules.  Passed down through many generations, we will continue to teach our children to build their lives on the same founding ideas.  From the beginning of time and most likely until the end, we are taught to look forward and to look back.  And if we do it right, looking in these directions will build our present life to perfection....or so they say....whomever "they" is.  


From nearly our infancy, we are taught to look back in an effort to learn from our past.  We are told to examine history, our personal history and that of our family.  Even the past deeds of our country is called into question for fear of repeating its mistakes.  This guideline becomes one of the cornerstones we will eventually build our lives on.  We've all seen those weird studies that tell us how many hours in our lifetime we will spend asleep or standing in line.  I wonder how many hours we will spend reflecting back?  We'll do it during history classes and poli-sci, class reunions, anniversaries, funerals and graduations.  But we'll also do it after we've finally recovered from a broken heart or when we've had to downsize or relocate because of the economy or at the birth of our first grandchild.  It seems the desire to reflect back can come from many sources, near death or life changing.


The other lesson we learn at an early age is to set goals for our future and to actively move toward them.  It doesn't matter what area of your life we're talking about, you should have a goal in place.  Personal, professional, spiritual, financial, retirement, family or home, you keep pushing forward to reach the goal in each area.  You might re-evaluate midstream, but keep moving forward.  And once you obtain your goals, apparently you're suppose to set new ones.


Both of these rules become ingrained over time and eventually subconsciously part of our psyche.  So it makes sense that if we learn from our previous mistakes and the mistakes of others, and we set strong goals for the future, then our lives should be perfect....exactly what we seek at every moment in time.  Yet it usually isn't.  Most people can give at least one thing they'd like to change about their lives.  They want to lose weight, quit their job, get divorced or get married, have a family, grow a backbone, make more money, get a college degree, own their own business, learn a new language or travel the world.  I could go on forever because we've all got aspirations in our life that seems to fall flat, no matter how much we try to set a goal and stick to it.  But why?  If we know how to learn from our past and we're good at setting goals for the future, what's the problem?


If someone desperately wants to be a doctor, he knows he has to make the grades to get into medical school.  No grades, no medical school, no M.D. behind his name.  It's black and white.  Yet the same guy can't seem to lose weight and keep it off, no matter how much he says he wants to.  Someone may have built an impressive resume professionally yet can't seem to build a strong personal relationship with a life partner no matter how much they claim to want it.


Why is it we know the exact steps to take to get us from point A to point B in most areas of our lives yet falter in other areas?  And for some reason we can usually give great advice to our friends in the exact same areas we are failing in.  What gives?


What I'm about to say isn't going to be popular.  Honestly I'm not crazy about it either, but I think it's the truth.  We really are what we seek, whether we choose to admit it or not.  We struggle to lost weight because we aren't prepared to do the work or we're afraid of the attention that life changing event will bring.  We can't find Mr. Right because we aren't willing to put ourselves out there or we put so many stipulations on his looks, career, background, finances and yes, even his goals, that there isn't a man alive who qualifies for the position...yet we act as though we desperately want a relationship.


I know this isn't a popular statement but let's face it, we really do know how to learn from our mistakes when we want to and we achieve every goal we set.  We know how to dig deep and work hard for what we really want.  And we're experts at making excuses or playing dumb about the goals we have no intention of reaching.  One of our favorite excuses seems to be "I can't find the time to (fill in the blank here with words like "exercise" or "date")."  Yet, if our child suddenly needs speech or physical therapy, we'll figure out a way to find an extra hour a day.  If our boss offers us a promotion, suddenly working an extra 5-10 hours a week seems perfectly fine when going to the gym for an hour each morning was completely out of the question.  


So what does this mean?  If you've always said you want to grow a backbone yet opportunity after opportunity presents itself, most of which you've chosen to ignore, should you simply stop trying?  No, I don't think so.  I think you need to dig a little deeper to find out WHY it's a goal and WHY you keep failing to reach it.  Sort of like that criminal defense we hear about on the news so much lately....how the defendant was abused as a child and that's why he did whatever horrible crime he's accused of.  Maybe there really is something from our childhood that influences us as adults.  There must be a reason why we do the work to obtain some goals yet others fall by the wayside.  


Maybe even more important than reaching the goal is the need to examine why we're struggling with it.  Maybe we can use our failures as an opportunity to grow....sort of a chance to learn from our past to achieve our goals for the future....just like we were taught.