My niece called me last night, frustrated~ at the end of her rope so to speak. She is going through a particularly nasty divorce and all the headaches involved with divorce settlements. On top of that, she has a severely sprained foot/ankle and should be using crutches and staying off her foot most of the time...not a viable option for a hairstylist. She is absolutely overwhelmed with physical, mental and emotional pain right now. Any one of those is bad but all three at the same time can be life-altering.
If those things weren't enough, she's really struggling with her 13 year-old sister who lives with her and she wanted me to help talk to the snotty little teenager since I've been-there-and-done-that by raising my own snotty little teenage niece.
Sadly, most of what my almost 14 year old niece is doing isn't really that bad. She's actually a pretty typical teenager I suppose. Not cleaning her room, forgetting her house key almost everyday, having to be reminded a dozen times to do her chores which eventually get done...half ass. Eye-rolling and a generally hostile attitude. Wanting to spend every waking moment with friends over family. Acting like her sister is made of money and thinking the whole world revolves around her. Etc etc etc....blah blah blah
Anyone who has ever had the "pleasure" of raising a teenager knows how frustrating it can be. In fact, many would volunteer for a root canal without anesthesia before raising another teenager, especially a teen aged girl. I definitely fit in that category....there's a reason I adopted boys....seriously, I'm not kidding.
On the surface, she seems like a very typical teenager. In fact, looking at this blog makes me think maybe we are over-thinking this kid but then I remember there's more to this story. To the casual observer, she seems very typical, maybe even better than most. As big a pain as she can be, she doesn't throw screaming fits. She's not constantly threatening to run away or telling everyone in her family that she hates them. She's never claimed to be embarrassed by any of us or refuse to be seen with us. She isn't over-sexed and while she is a little boy crazy, she isn't pushing the envelope with the opposite sex yet. She isn't dressing provocatively and hasn't fallen in with a counterculture or alternative group of rebellious teens. To sum her up in a nutshell, I think she is lazy, flaky and generally disinterested in almost everything. At least to the casual observer, I think that's how she must appear.
But I'm not a casual observer. She's my family and I have vested interest in seeing her develop into a happy, normal adult. I have an obligation to help this kid since her mom, also known as my sister, decided to inflict maximum damage on her children and then check out, leaving them lost and broken. On top of that, her drug-addicted father, who only lives a couple of hours away, continues to chose drugs over his children.......he hasn't even picked up the phone and checked in with her in two months. Thirteen years old with one parent dead and the other one might as well be. She must feel lost. How could she not? Even though we tell her we love her and want her to be happy, why would she ever believe us? Her mom told her all the time how much she loved her, how important she was, how smart she was. She hugged and kissed her a dozen times a day and yet she put drugs first. The few times her father bothers to call her, he always says how much he loves her and misses her. And yet he doesn't want to straighten up his life, get a job and become respectable so his children will move back into his life. He loves her, but not enough.... So why should she believe anything we say? We don't do drugs and we're trying very hard to give her a solid home life, but her parents are suppose to be the people who love her the most and want the best for her so if she can't believe them, then what chance do the rest of us have?
I feel sorry for both my nieces...one because she's trying to win an almost un-winable fight and the other because she's fighting the un-winable fight.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
The first day of fall.....
Today is the first day of fall, my favorite time of year. It's a cooler, darker time filled with shadows and nostalgia. There's something about the warmth of the sun blending with the cool breeze that makes me feel reflective and renewed at the same time.
Most people look at the fall season as an ending, mourning the loss of summer, but for me it's the beginning of a new year. It's a mystery why my body and soul doesn't conform to the calendar year ritual of celebrating the new year on January 1st, but they don't. I'm sure there's probably a pagan ritual surrounding whichever solstice this is but I don't really follow paganism either. Luckily I don't really needed the pomp and circumstance of a formal ritual because for me the changing of this season brings a time of reflection. I gather together my past decisions and really try to analyze what they brought into my life. Some choices will be from only a few months past, others may make an appearance from years gone by. Also included are ideas I'm toying with, decisions I haven't committed to yet. It's one of the few times in my life when I let myself off the hook and really just examine my life without being too critical. I'm probably as honest with myself as I'm ever going to be during this time. I almost feel like a child again, sitting in my favorite tree, watching the world below. From this perspective it's easy to recognize my accomplishments or where my plan derailed because I can see where every path originated and where it leads. It's like having my finger on the re-wind button. I can go back and forth, back and forth, reviewing each little detail until I discover the exact moment each decision was made correctly or what caused the failure. If I'm lucky, I can even see where I'd headed and make adjustments before it's too late. It's like opening up the big book of life and getting to peek at the answers.
As much as I enjoy this time of year, it's also a very emotional time for me. I literally could cry at a good AT&T commercial. It feels like a year's worth of sucking it up to deal with life's day-to-day crap has built up and it starts toppling over. As harsh as that sounds, it actually feels like a cleansing rain is washing all the residue off my soul and leaving me with a fresh start.
This is the of time of year when I recognize that those goals I made earlier in the year are still here, even though they got pushed aside because of all the little fires I had to put out. But they haven't gone anywhere and instead of looking at them as just another thing I didn't accomplish, I realize there's still time. It's not too late. The fall season to me is like a mini-midlife crisis, where I can reevaluate and regroup because there's still time to get where I want to go. And like the Great and Powerful Oz, I almost always realize that the very thing I'm seeking has been right there in front of me all along. And I just now realized it's also the time I make my biggest life-changing decisions. I bought my home in the Fall and I decided to begin the adoption process during the fall, although I didn't go public with it until early Spring. I made the mental jump to quitting my job during the Fall to begin the risky life of a writer.
For some reason, the turning of leaves represent a time of change for me and it's when I stop weighing an idea and just decide to do it or to move on. Hummmm, I wonder what big decisions are in store for me this year?
Most people look at the fall season as an ending, mourning the loss of summer, but for me it's the beginning of a new year. It's a mystery why my body and soul doesn't conform to the calendar year ritual of celebrating the new year on January 1st, but they don't. I'm sure there's probably a pagan ritual surrounding whichever solstice this is but I don't really follow paganism either. Luckily I don't really needed the pomp and circumstance of a formal ritual because for me the changing of this season brings a time of reflection. I gather together my past decisions and really try to analyze what they brought into my life. Some choices will be from only a few months past, others may make an appearance from years gone by. Also included are ideas I'm toying with, decisions I haven't committed to yet. It's one of the few times in my life when I let myself off the hook and really just examine my life without being too critical. I'm probably as honest with myself as I'm ever going to be during this time. I almost feel like a child again, sitting in my favorite tree, watching the world below. From this perspective it's easy to recognize my accomplishments or where my plan derailed because I can see where every path originated and where it leads. It's like having my finger on the re-wind button. I can go back and forth, back and forth, reviewing each little detail until I discover the exact moment each decision was made correctly or what caused the failure. If I'm lucky, I can even see where I'd headed and make adjustments before it's too late. It's like opening up the big book of life and getting to peek at the answers.
As much as I enjoy this time of year, it's also a very emotional time for me. I literally could cry at a good AT&T commercial. It feels like a year's worth of sucking it up to deal with life's day-to-day crap has built up and it starts toppling over. As harsh as that sounds, it actually feels like a cleansing rain is washing all the residue off my soul and leaving me with a fresh start.
This is the of time of year when I recognize that those goals I made earlier in the year are still here, even though they got pushed aside because of all the little fires I had to put out. But they haven't gone anywhere and instead of looking at them as just another thing I didn't accomplish, I realize there's still time. It's not too late. The fall season to me is like a mini-midlife crisis, where I can reevaluate and regroup because there's still time to get where I want to go. And like the Great and Powerful Oz, I almost always realize that the very thing I'm seeking has been right there in front of me all along. And I just now realized it's also the time I make my biggest life-changing decisions. I bought my home in the Fall and I decided to begin the adoption process during the fall, although I didn't go public with it until early Spring. I made the mental jump to quitting my job during the Fall to begin the risky life of a writer.
For some reason, the turning of leaves represent a time of change for me and it's when I stop weighing an idea and just decide to do it or to move on. Hummmm, I wonder what big decisions are in store for me this year?
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I was born to do this....
It's strange how coincidences occur. Before I took my sons to school this morning, I checked my email really quickly. I had received one from a daily wisdom newsletter that I subscribe to. In the past, the daily quote has covered subjects from spirituality to finances, you just never know what it's going to say. Today was a quote from Joan of Arc. She said, "I am not afraid. I was born to do this." It resonated with me immediately although I didn't give it much thought in the moment.
After dropping off my kids, I was walking out of their classroom with another mom. I knew a little about her from the parent's meeting during school orientation and a couple of other quick conversations but was about to learn a whole lot more. She was a non-practicing lawyer (tax law...yuck!), married, mother of two. Both kids have varying degrees of special needs. Her oldest is on the autism spectrum and functioning, but not highly functioning, at least not yet but he's only five. Her youngest is 2 1/2 and was adopted domestically. He suffers from several sensory issues and a few mental challenges probably due to spending nine months in the womb of his 13-year old meth-addicted birth mother and then another 6 months of infant neglect before being removed from her "care". NO, that was not a typo. I said THIRTEEN year old meth addict.
As we were walking down the hall she asked me if I was a stay-at-home mom. I answered that I work from home. She volleyed back with "do you work for a vendor?" Of course, that's a normal question for the area we live in and for some reason I've always sort of eased into that question and answer. But today, I didn't even hesitate. I just said, "no, I used to audit Walmart but now I just write." Her response was immediately open and excited. Of course she wanted to know what I'd published....can't wait to have an answer for that some day soon!
What was so amazing was how this conversation felt like 2nd nature to me. We talked about changing careers and life choices. She certainly understands. She went from being a tax lawyer (which she hated) to being a full-time mom heavily involved in occupational therapy because of her sons strict regime. She actually loves OT and is thinking about going back to school for it once both boys are in school. But still she was envious because she felt I was so blessed to have found my calling. Without realizing it, I heard Joan of Arc's words leaving my mouth. "I was born to do this", I said.
And you know what? I was born to do this. I know I've said it before and thought it too but today, maybe for the first time ever, I felt it. I FELT IT. I'm not saying I felt a firm resolve or determination. I felt it like it's a given fact....like the sun will rise tomorrow, I need oxygen to breathe or if you cut my skin, I will bleed. It was like I was saying, "I have two eyes, two ears, two arms, a nose and I am a writer." Published or not, I am a writer.
For the first time ever, I didn't feel anything when I said I am a writer. I didn't feel nervous saying it out loud or sort of excited hearing the words. I didn't feel anything because it just is...I have two green eyes although most people think they are blue and I am a writer.
After dropping off my kids, I was walking out of their classroom with another mom. I knew a little about her from the parent's meeting during school orientation and a couple of other quick conversations but was about to learn a whole lot more. She was a non-practicing lawyer (tax law...yuck!), married, mother of two. Both kids have varying degrees of special needs. Her oldest is on the autism spectrum and functioning, but not highly functioning, at least not yet but he's only five. Her youngest is 2 1/2 and was adopted domestically. He suffers from several sensory issues and a few mental challenges probably due to spending nine months in the womb of his 13-year old meth-addicted birth mother and then another 6 months of infant neglect before being removed from her "care". NO, that was not a typo. I said THIRTEEN year old meth addict.
As we were walking down the hall she asked me if I was a stay-at-home mom. I answered that I work from home. She volleyed back with "do you work for a vendor?" Of course, that's a normal question for the area we live in and for some reason I've always sort of eased into that question and answer. But today, I didn't even hesitate. I just said, "no, I used to audit Walmart but now I just write." Her response was immediately open and excited. Of course she wanted to know what I'd published....can't wait to have an answer for that some day soon!
What was so amazing was how this conversation felt like 2nd nature to me. We talked about changing careers and life choices. She certainly understands. She went from being a tax lawyer (which she hated) to being a full-time mom heavily involved in occupational therapy because of her sons strict regime. She actually loves OT and is thinking about going back to school for it once both boys are in school. But still she was envious because she felt I was so blessed to have found my calling. Without realizing it, I heard Joan of Arc's words leaving my mouth. "I was born to do this", I said.
And you know what? I was born to do this. I know I've said it before and thought it too but today, maybe for the first time ever, I felt it. I FELT IT. I'm not saying I felt a firm resolve or determination. I felt it like it's a given fact....like the sun will rise tomorrow, I need oxygen to breathe or if you cut my skin, I will bleed. It was like I was saying, "I have two eyes, two ears, two arms, a nose and I am a writer." Published or not, I am a writer.
For the first time ever, I didn't feel anything when I said I am a writer. I didn't feel nervous saying it out loud or sort of excited hearing the words. I didn't feel anything because it just is...I have two green eyes although most people think they are blue and I am a writer.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Send me a sign.....
My cleaning lady came today. Usually I leave the house before she gets here because I feel awkward having people cleaning around me while I sit in front of the computer but I've been really dedicated to my writing lately so I chose to stay and ignore my discomfort.
After exchanging the normal pleasantries, she asked how my sons are doing. She's very friendly and caring to everyone but since both my sons are latino, I think she feels a kinship with them. I told her about my oldest son who is having problems with his feet. I told her that due to being so malnourished for the first 2 1/2 years of his life, some of his bones haven't developed and his feet are deformed. The doctor is trying to alleviate his pain for as long as possible, hoping the bones form otherwise he'll need one or more surgeries. She of course was concerned, offering to keep him in her prayers. And then she started talking about God, how He can create miracles, how she's witnessed them, etc. She went on to tell me that science and medicine are miracles too and how this is part of God's plan for my son....how I've already witnessed a miracle because God brought him into my life instead of leaving him in Guatemala where he would have most certainly been crippled. She said if a painful surgery is necessary, maybe it's part of God's plan for him because he may use the memories of his pain to become a doctor who helps the poor, or starts a charity or just become a better man.
She probably talked for ten minutes without stopping. Under normal circumstances I follow my father's philosophy--I don't care what you believe, just don't cram it down my throat-- but this was different. She was so gentle and caring, her voice soft and low. I didn't feel like I was being preached at. She wasn't "spreading the word" because her preacher told her to but actually speaking from her heart, from her own experience, from her faith. It was so heartfelt and real. I can't really explain it but her words were honest, profound and deep. She moved me to tears.
Don't get me wrong. I've never been one of those people who think only the wealthy or well educated are worthy of giving advice. I've always believed that everyone brings something to the table. I just didn't expect it. I assumed I'd get the typical "I'll be thinking of you" and probably an "it'll all work out" from her just like I've said a million times before to other people. But what I got from her was pure honesty, pure hope, pure love. My body felt awash with peace. It just goes to show you, inspiration really is everywhere....
After exchanging the normal pleasantries, she asked how my sons are doing. She's very friendly and caring to everyone but since both my sons are latino, I think she feels a kinship with them. I told her about my oldest son who is having problems with his feet. I told her that due to being so malnourished for the first 2 1/2 years of his life, some of his bones haven't developed and his feet are deformed. The doctor is trying to alleviate his pain for as long as possible, hoping the bones form otherwise he'll need one or more surgeries. She of course was concerned, offering to keep him in her prayers. And then she started talking about God, how He can create miracles, how she's witnessed them, etc. She went on to tell me that science and medicine are miracles too and how this is part of God's plan for my son....how I've already witnessed a miracle because God brought him into my life instead of leaving him in Guatemala where he would have most certainly been crippled. She said if a painful surgery is necessary, maybe it's part of God's plan for him because he may use the memories of his pain to become a doctor who helps the poor, or starts a charity or just become a better man.
She probably talked for ten minutes without stopping. Under normal circumstances I follow my father's philosophy--I don't care what you believe, just don't cram it down my throat-- but this was different. She was so gentle and caring, her voice soft and low. I didn't feel like I was being preached at. She wasn't "spreading the word" because her preacher told her to but actually speaking from her heart, from her own experience, from her faith. It was so heartfelt and real. I can't really explain it but her words were honest, profound and deep. She moved me to tears.
Don't get me wrong. I've never been one of those people who think only the wealthy or well educated are worthy of giving advice. I've always believed that everyone brings something to the table. I just didn't expect it. I assumed I'd get the typical "I'll be thinking of you" and probably an "it'll all work out" from her just like I've said a million times before to other people. But what I got from her was pure honesty, pure hope, pure love. My body felt awash with peace. It just goes to show you, inspiration really is everywhere....
Just breatheeeeeeeee.....
So tomorrow I have to meet my former nephew/son-in-law at my niece's house for his final walk-thru. Part of his demands in the divorce settlement was a final walk-thru to identify any of his belongings still at his marital home and his ex-wife (my niece) couldn't be present. She designated ME as the lucky tour guide.
He called me last night to schedule a time to meet and in all honesty, I literally felt nauseous as soon as I heard his voice. In fact, I still feel nauseous even now. It's not that I'm scared of him although he has made some pretty erratic moves lately. I guess I just want this to be over once and for all. I thought he was going to be the guy who made my niece happy forever but it turned out so, so badly. I'm not hoping for the beginning of a new chapter in her life, I'm looking for a whole new book! And that's after this book is burned and the ashes are buried.
In the beginning I thought their marriage could work even when so much was against them. Between custody battles for his kids and hers, building a new house, buying a new car, starting a new business and 180 degrees difference on religious views, they were probably screwed in the first year. If only they'd bought a beautiful foreclosed home and a used car, waited to start the business for another year or two and agreed to compromise on religion or to each do their own thing, then the custodies battles probably would have brought them together and they would have become a united front...an unbreakable force. If they would have handled year one smarter, then maybe they would have been prepared for the death of her mother and getting custody of her teenage sister in year two. But they didn't.... I guess this is where that old saying hindsight is 20/20 comes in....
Even with all those hurdles thrown at them, I still thought they could make it work, even with the rocky start, but the baggage they carried from their past proved to be too cumbersome. She went into the marriage with an extremely independent spirit yet looking for an equal partner. She fought compromise when she shouldn't have but it was her first marriage so growing pains were to be expected. She wasn't easy but he was bound and determined to break her. He came into the marriage looking for a partner but without equality. 100% power belonged to him. They set themselves up for an epic battle and were not disappointed.
Sadly, I warned him before he asked her to marry him that she isn't the typical 20-something girl. She carries tremendous pain from her childhood and can't be expected to react to life as most people do. I told him to go slow, to treat her with love and respect, but to handled her gently. I promised him that it wouldn't be easy and it would take a long time to gain her trust but if he was gentle, that she would eventually put all her trust in him. I could guarantee this because I was there when she was hurt, I saw her spirit being assaulted and I knew first hand what broke her. What I failed to realize was just how broken he was too. I didn't take into account the baggage he carried forward from his own childhood and first marriage. I calculated the results but with only half the data.
After watching them ruin their marriage and even screw up their divorce, I realize now that they never really had a chance. It would have taken years of therapy, mostly individually, for them to both put down their old pain and change completely. My niece recognizes her baggage and says she wants to let it go but never really commits to counseling so maybe she's just not ready. Hopefully she's moving in that direction. It is scary to step out into the world without it, feeling completely naked. I know, I've done it. My ex-nephew, on the other hand, refuses to even acknowledge that he has baggage and doesn't seem to want to take any ownership in the demise of their marriage. Everything with him is very black and white, it's either your fault or mine, my way or yours, no compromise, no middle ground. All that baggage seems to be lost in multiple shades of gray and he doesn't see gray.
I've worked very hard to put my baggage down and I will continue to work on it for however long necessary, probably the rest of my life. I've stepped out without it and prefer this feeling to the strangling feeling of carrying it with me. But watching their marriage and subsequent divorce has made me realize just how much our pasts control our futures. Two people with the chance to live happily ever after instead choose the path of bitter pain and isolation. Instead of letting go of their old pain and working through life together, they added another piece of baggage to their piles. And all because their past is in complete control of their lives. And they certainly aren't alone. It's true for all of us. How can the past control us so much when all we really want is a fresh start everyday? Why can't we learn from our mistakes and truly move on? Do we really have to burn our books to reinvent ourselves?
He called me last night to schedule a time to meet and in all honesty, I literally felt nauseous as soon as I heard his voice. In fact, I still feel nauseous even now. It's not that I'm scared of him although he has made some pretty erratic moves lately. I guess I just want this to be over once and for all. I thought he was going to be the guy who made my niece happy forever but it turned out so, so badly. I'm not hoping for the beginning of a new chapter in her life, I'm looking for a whole new book! And that's after this book is burned and the ashes are buried.
In the beginning I thought their marriage could work even when so much was against them. Between custody battles for his kids and hers, building a new house, buying a new car, starting a new business and 180 degrees difference on religious views, they were probably screwed in the first year. If only they'd bought a beautiful foreclosed home and a used car, waited to start the business for another year or two and agreed to compromise on religion or to each do their own thing, then the custodies battles probably would have brought them together and they would have become a united front...an unbreakable force. If they would have handled year one smarter, then maybe they would have been prepared for the death of her mother and getting custody of her teenage sister in year two. But they didn't.... I guess this is where that old saying hindsight is 20/20 comes in....
Even with all those hurdles thrown at them, I still thought they could make it work, even with the rocky start, but the baggage they carried from their past proved to be too cumbersome. She went into the marriage with an extremely independent spirit yet looking for an equal partner. She fought compromise when she shouldn't have but it was her first marriage so growing pains were to be expected. She wasn't easy but he was bound and determined to break her. He came into the marriage looking for a partner but without equality. 100% power belonged to him. They set themselves up for an epic battle and were not disappointed.
Sadly, I warned him before he asked her to marry him that she isn't the typical 20-something girl. She carries tremendous pain from her childhood and can't be expected to react to life as most people do. I told him to go slow, to treat her with love and respect, but to handled her gently. I promised him that it wouldn't be easy and it would take a long time to gain her trust but if he was gentle, that she would eventually put all her trust in him. I could guarantee this because I was there when she was hurt, I saw her spirit being assaulted and I knew first hand what broke her. What I failed to realize was just how broken he was too. I didn't take into account the baggage he carried forward from his own childhood and first marriage. I calculated the results but with only half the data.
After watching them ruin their marriage and even screw up their divorce, I realize now that they never really had a chance. It would have taken years of therapy, mostly individually, for them to both put down their old pain and change completely. My niece recognizes her baggage and says she wants to let it go but never really commits to counseling so maybe she's just not ready. Hopefully she's moving in that direction. It is scary to step out into the world without it, feeling completely naked. I know, I've done it. My ex-nephew, on the other hand, refuses to even acknowledge that he has baggage and doesn't seem to want to take any ownership in the demise of their marriage. Everything with him is very black and white, it's either your fault or mine, my way or yours, no compromise, no middle ground. All that baggage seems to be lost in multiple shades of gray and he doesn't see gray.
I've worked very hard to put my baggage down and I will continue to work on it for however long necessary, probably the rest of my life. I've stepped out without it and prefer this feeling to the strangling feeling of carrying it with me. But watching their marriage and subsequent divorce has made me realize just how much our pasts control our futures. Two people with the chance to live happily ever after instead choose the path of bitter pain and isolation. Instead of letting go of their old pain and working through life together, they added another piece of baggage to their piles. And all because their past is in complete control of their lives. And they certainly aren't alone. It's true for all of us. How can the past control us so much when all we really want is a fresh start everyday? Why can't we learn from our mistakes and truly move on? Do we really have to burn our books to reinvent ourselves?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Preparation, Perspiration and a whole lot of Inspiration....
So I had a session with my former therapist yesterday. He's helping me with my book as I try to put more of myself in it instead of just the chaotic episodes of my brother and sister. Remarkably it hasn't been too difficult to find my way back in although it has darkened my mood a bit. I suppose that's to be expected though...reentering the 3rd circle of Hell and all...although according to Dante, I guess my life probably consists of some of the 7th, 2nd and 4th with a whole lot of the 5th thrown in from me.
Re-reading my book, I feel somewhat disconnected from the girl who lived that story. Strange because I've always been able to put myself in a book or movie and really live the story right along with the main characters but in my own life I feel like the best friend who lived next door and lived the story vicariously. Believe me, vicariously is a much better way to view this story except when you're trying to remember facts over fiction.
As we talked about my teenage years and into adulthood, Scott kept focusing on things I'd done, or tried to do, that were so different from my family. Going to college. Working for 100% commission. Adopting from a foreign country. Choosing to be a single mom. Taking guardianship of my niece. Traveling the country and the world. etc, etc, etc...
He kept remarking about how I didn't have a mentor, someone close to me who'd gone before and paved the way. He seemed to think it was unusual to be such a risk taker in every area of my life since many people only stick their necks out in only one or two ways and most not at all.
I thought about his observation quite a bit last night. My parents were supportive of my decisions although I guess he's right, there wasn't a person or persons who'd been there and done that. It made me wonder...do most people have mentors that they emulate, whether consciously or not?
Looking back, I can see a few people that I had great respect for but I didn't talk to them about my plans or use their guidance to map out my life. My aunt Kay was very important to me but she was a lot like my parents, very supportive of my decisions but didn't push me in one direction or another. My dad's best friend, whom I named one of my sons after, was like a second father to me. He was a "glass is half-full" kinda guy, a risk taker in someways and definitely believed I could do anything. My uncle Peter was the smartest man I've ever met and he pushed me to use my brain and explore the world. I had several teachers who practically begged me to be a writer but I never entertained the idea out loud. My mom always wanted me to be and do whatever I wanted but I think my dad would have preferred I stayed close to home and played it safe.
I can't think of a single person who lived a life I wanted to duplicate. I guess maybe I had pieces of several people as mentors, if you could call them that. I think in reality they were more cheering audience than mentors which isn't a bad thing to have either.
So I guess the question is, if you could give credit to one person for making you who you are today....who would that person be? And would you thank them for it?
Re-reading my book, I feel somewhat disconnected from the girl who lived that story. Strange because I've always been able to put myself in a book or movie and really live the story right along with the main characters but in my own life I feel like the best friend who lived next door and lived the story vicariously. Believe me, vicariously is a much better way to view this story except when you're trying to remember facts over fiction.
As we talked about my teenage years and into adulthood, Scott kept focusing on things I'd done, or tried to do, that were so different from my family. Going to college. Working for 100% commission. Adopting from a foreign country. Choosing to be a single mom. Taking guardianship of my niece. Traveling the country and the world. etc, etc, etc...
He kept remarking about how I didn't have a mentor, someone close to me who'd gone before and paved the way. He seemed to think it was unusual to be such a risk taker in every area of my life since many people only stick their necks out in only one or two ways and most not at all.
I thought about his observation quite a bit last night. My parents were supportive of my decisions although I guess he's right, there wasn't a person or persons who'd been there and done that. It made me wonder...do most people have mentors that they emulate, whether consciously or not?
Looking back, I can see a few people that I had great respect for but I didn't talk to them about my plans or use their guidance to map out my life. My aunt Kay was very important to me but she was a lot like my parents, very supportive of my decisions but didn't push me in one direction or another. My dad's best friend, whom I named one of my sons after, was like a second father to me. He was a "glass is half-full" kinda guy, a risk taker in someways and definitely believed I could do anything. My uncle Peter was the smartest man I've ever met and he pushed me to use my brain and explore the world. I had several teachers who practically begged me to be a writer but I never entertained the idea out loud. My mom always wanted me to be and do whatever I wanted but I think my dad would have preferred I stayed close to home and played it safe.
I can't think of a single person who lived a life I wanted to duplicate. I guess maybe I had pieces of several people as mentors, if you could call them that. I think in reality they were more cheering audience than mentors which isn't a bad thing to have either.
So I guess the question is, if you could give credit to one person for making you who you are today....who would that person be? And would you thank them for it?
Saturday, September 10, 2011
my 9/11.....
Tomorrow is September 11th, 2011, the tenth anniversary of the day the world forever changed. The twin towers being brought down by extremists captivated the whole world, even people who'd never been in the World Trade Center or even New York for that matter. It was the day time stood still for my generation just like JFK being shot was for my parents and Pearl Harbor for theirs. I've never met a person who didn't know exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. Thinking back, it seems like we knew this was bigger than anything we could imagine, even before we actually knew it. We hear of planes hitting homes and buildings all the time, but rarely does it demand our immediate attention like the news of the first tower being hit did. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong because the plane was flying into restricted airspace, something the average Joe wouldn't know unless you flew as much as I did. And I was immediately interested because my uncle's company had offices in the first tower and even though his office was in Building 7, the 3rd building to fall on 9/11, I also knew he spent a lot of time in tower one. In fact I'd been there only 3 days before meeting him for lunch. All these facts peaked my interest very quickly but in reality, everyone stopped in their tracks that day.
Since this year is the tenth anniversary of the attack, there has been even more attention given to the victims, their families, the survivors and the heroes of 9/11 than usual. It's hard to watch without renewing old tears. A month ago I was standing at the site, with towers gone and the memorial still under construction. It was an eery feeling, knowing that nearly 3,000 people lost their lives right there and technically there is probably still bone dust and human remains mingled in with the soil that will never be recovered. The sickness in the pit of my stomach has only been felt one other time and that was when I stood on the ground of Dachau, the first of Hitler's many concentration camps to open in Germany. I can't really describe the feeling, other than to say it never really left me. In some way, it altered me forever.
What I'm about to say will be incredibly controversial, but it's how I feel so I'm just going to say it. When I left Dachau, I was ashamed of my German heritage and I've never been able to shake it. I know all the political and economic reasons why the German nationals allowed Hitler to reign, but I can't get beyond the fact that they, as a nation, turned their heads away from the Holocaust and allowed the atrocities to take place. They watched as whole neighborhoods disappeared and they looked away. Some tried to justify the treatment of the Jews, others were just grateful they weren't jewish, but either way, they did nothing.
And here comes the controversial part.... standing at ground zero, I felt the same shame at being an American. 3,000 of my fellow Americans died on that day and then tens of thousands more went to war supposedly because of the 9/11 attacks and thousands of those died too. We all know those people died because of several Al-Qaeda terrorists who volunteered for a suicide mission. On the surface, we were told that they hate our freedoms and our way of life so they attached us. Seriously, does anybody actually believe that? Does that even remotely make sense? But most of us swallowed the pill of BS our government shoved down our throats because it's easier to handle. No one wants to believe the US government could possibly be guilty of war crimes or atrocities worse than the attack in New York that day so we drink the kool-aid and turn our heads away from the truth.
I wish I could point my finger at the Bush administration and blame my rant strictly on them but that would be stupid and naive. The far-reaching destruction of our governmental policies began long before Bush ever entered office and probably will continue long into the future. We have covertly removed heads of foreign governments, both literally and figuratively, influenced election outcomes, both inside the US and out, overturned sitting governments, and quietly started "civil" wars that would kill hundreds of thousands of civilians in 3rd world countries for the benefit of American corporations (google the Guatemalan civil war and read about the United Fruit Co...also known as Chiquita Banana). We don't assist foreign governments or their citizens unless they have sometime we want such as oil, produce or minerals. I realize many feel it's not our job to save the whole world and I also realize I'm a bleeding heart liberal, but I'm tired of our government quietly taking whatever they want from any other country on the planet while we pretend not to notice. And truthfully the blame does not lie solely at the feet of our government either. They wouldn't be protecting our interests in these foreign countries if American citizens didn't demand more and more of whatever we get from these foreign lands at the cheapest price available.
We in American still suffer under the delusion that we are an isolated nation but mark my words, another attack will come. And when it does, mourn the dead because they are the innocent victims, the collateral damage of our world domination. Pray for the families and the survivors because they deserve all the help they can get- physical, financial, emotional and spiritual. Champion the heroes who risk their own lives to save others and honor our military brothers and sisters who blinded follow orders given to them without once considering the cost to themselves and their own families. But do not swallow any more kool-aid of the American government. Do not act as if the attack was "unprovoked", because it wasn't. Do not pretend that America is an innocent victim because we, as a country, are anything but innocent.
Since this year is the tenth anniversary of the attack, there has been even more attention given to the victims, their families, the survivors and the heroes of 9/11 than usual. It's hard to watch without renewing old tears. A month ago I was standing at the site, with towers gone and the memorial still under construction. It was an eery feeling, knowing that nearly 3,000 people lost their lives right there and technically there is probably still bone dust and human remains mingled in with the soil that will never be recovered. The sickness in the pit of my stomach has only been felt one other time and that was when I stood on the ground of Dachau, the first of Hitler's many concentration camps to open in Germany. I can't really describe the feeling, other than to say it never really left me. In some way, it altered me forever.
What I'm about to say will be incredibly controversial, but it's how I feel so I'm just going to say it. When I left Dachau, I was ashamed of my German heritage and I've never been able to shake it. I know all the political and economic reasons why the German nationals allowed Hitler to reign, but I can't get beyond the fact that they, as a nation, turned their heads away from the Holocaust and allowed the atrocities to take place. They watched as whole neighborhoods disappeared and they looked away. Some tried to justify the treatment of the Jews, others were just grateful they weren't jewish, but either way, they did nothing.
And here comes the controversial part.... standing at ground zero, I felt the same shame at being an American. 3,000 of my fellow Americans died on that day and then tens of thousands more went to war supposedly because of the 9/11 attacks and thousands of those died too. We all know those people died because of several Al-Qaeda terrorists who volunteered for a suicide mission. On the surface, we were told that they hate our freedoms and our way of life so they attached us. Seriously, does anybody actually believe that? Does that even remotely make sense? But most of us swallowed the pill of BS our government shoved down our throats because it's easier to handle. No one wants to believe the US government could possibly be guilty of war crimes or atrocities worse than the attack in New York that day so we drink the kool-aid and turn our heads away from the truth.
I wish I could point my finger at the Bush administration and blame my rant strictly on them but that would be stupid and naive. The far-reaching destruction of our governmental policies began long before Bush ever entered office and probably will continue long into the future. We have covertly removed heads of foreign governments, both literally and figuratively, influenced election outcomes, both inside the US and out, overturned sitting governments, and quietly started "civil" wars that would kill hundreds of thousands of civilians in 3rd world countries for the benefit of American corporations (google the Guatemalan civil war and read about the United Fruit Co...also known as Chiquita Banana). We don't assist foreign governments or their citizens unless they have sometime we want such as oil, produce or minerals. I realize many feel it's not our job to save the whole world and I also realize I'm a bleeding heart liberal, but I'm tired of our government quietly taking whatever they want from any other country on the planet while we pretend not to notice. And truthfully the blame does not lie solely at the feet of our government either. They wouldn't be protecting our interests in these foreign countries if American citizens didn't demand more and more of whatever we get from these foreign lands at the cheapest price available.
We in American still suffer under the delusion that we are an isolated nation but mark my words, another attack will come. And when it does, mourn the dead because they are the innocent victims, the collateral damage of our world domination. Pray for the families and the survivors because they deserve all the help they can get- physical, financial, emotional and spiritual. Champion the heroes who risk their own lives to save others and honor our military brothers and sisters who blinded follow orders given to them without once considering the cost to themselves and their own families. But do not swallow any more kool-aid of the American government. Do not act as if the attack was "unprovoked", because it wasn't. Do not pretend that America is an innocent victim because we, as a country, are anything but innocent.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Who is hindering your growth....
Yesterday my mom sent me an email with an inspiration quote in it that really touched me. I decided to do a little investigating because the quote came without the author's name. I was hoping to find who was behind such a brilliant statement. Instead, I found the rest of the story......I hope you enjoy it....
Who is hindering your growth?
One day not too long ago the employees of a large company in St. Louis, Missouri returned from their lunch break and were greeted with a sign on the front door. The sign said: "Yesterday the person who has been hindering your growth in this company passed away. We invite you to join the funeral in the room that has been prepared in the gym."
At first everyone was sad to hear that one of their colleagues had died, but after a while they started getting curious about who this person might be.
The excitement grew as the employees arrived at the gym to pay their last respects. Everyone wondered: "Who is this person who was hindering my progress? Well, at least he's no longer here!"
One by one the employees got closer to the coffin and when they looked inside it they suddenly became speechless. They stood over the coffin, shocked and in silence, as if someone had touched the deepest part of their soul.
There was a mirror inside the coffin: everyone who looked inside it could see himself. There was also a sign next to the mirror that said: "There is only one person who is capable to set limits to your growth: it is YOU.
You are the only person who can revolutionize your life. You are the only person who can influence your happiness, your realization and your success. You are the only person who can help yourself.
Your life does not change when your boss changes, when your friends change, when your parents change, when your partner changes, when your company changes. Your life changes when YOU change, when you go beyond your limiting beliefs, when you realize that you are the only one responsible for your life
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