May 31, 2017
12:56 a.m.
Ah, peace and quiet. The household is asleep. There is not toddler on my lap scribbling on my bills or singing to me (not that I'm complaining--she's welcome in my lap!) and I am typing without little hands trying to help.
This means I may finish before dawn!
You know--maybe!
I am enjoying the quiet, though. It's nice.
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Speaking of the toddler, though--what a character. The parents ran off for a grown up evening and I kept her. We put on the movie "Sing" to watch. There's a character, a gorilla, who sings the Elton John hit "I'm Still Standing", and my granddaughter loves it. I left her watching and went to get water. When I returned to my room, I looked in to see her pretending to play piano and mouthing the words.
So cute!
Later, we were looking for something at my desk and I found this large plastic ruler that I use for some art work. It has longish lines that my granddaughter instantly decided were piano keys. She lay it in front of her on my desk and started "playing the piano" and singing "I still standing! Like a little kid! I still standing! Like a little kid!"
We tried to get it on video, with marginal results. Once she saw the camera she started cheesing for a picture. But let me tell you--cutest thing ever!
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I spent a good deal of time on the phone today, first calling to make sure old films had been sent to the new place I went to for this year's mammogram, and then with my insurance company.
Have you ever noticed how hard it is to get a straight answer from your insurance company about,,,well, anything?
I know what my co-pays are for most things--doctor visits, specialist visits, outpatient procedures and the like. My screening mammogram was no charge to me, as it is a fully covered well-woman preventative service. But once you get that call-back, it's a whole different story.
All I wanted to know was how much I could expect to have to pay on Friday, if anything. After over an hour on the phone with a very nice lady, all I know is that my out of pocket is 20% of the billable portion payable my my insurance.
Basically, that means that my insurance will be billed whatever the clinic bills, and then they will decide what portion of that is actually the allowed billable amount and I will owe 20% of that amount.
In other words, I have no idea what I'm going to be expected to pay.
Yay.
At least I have insurance. So I guess I will just play it by ear.
That's how I deal with everything else, anyway! Haha!
___________________________________________________________________________________
I was going to try to upload the video of my singing sensational granddaughter, but that didn't go well. Maybe later I'll be able to share that bit of super-fun with you all.
On the meantime, I'm running on fumes. So it's time for the "good-nights".
Good-night!!
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Sunday, May 28, 2017
May 27, 2017
3:29 p.m.
So we have this little dog named Trixie. She's getting up there in years, and has developed a marked intolerance for certain sounds. God forbid that the baby should cry--Trixie will howl mournfully along with her.
My daughter loves to sing along with most anything she's doing, which also leads to doggie howls.
Violins in musical pieces can set off quite a display, too. Heaven help us if the remote control isn't readily at hand to turn the volume down. Sad movie scenes are the worst!
A couple days ago my daughter and son were watching "Little House on the Prairie" (Yes, you read that correctly--they bought the whole series!) and Charles Ingalls was playing the fiddle. I immediately tensed up--oh no! Trixie is going to go off like a firecracker! Where's the remote?
Trixie remained asleep at my feet. Whew!
Then another character takes the fiddle and plays a rather unimpressive rendition of "Flight of the Bumblebee". I was sure that the time for Trixtheatrics had come.
Nothing.
Five minutes later, the toddler starts singing something, and Trixie immediately goes nuts: Yike, yike yike!
Lord, it's so much fun around here.
She's currently howling at absolutely nothing. Hmm. Poor old girl.
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May 28, 2017
6:00 p.m.
Well, I was quite the ball-dropper yesterday, it seems.
Actually, I was working away when my little granddaughter decided to help me spill soda on my keyboard. Yay. My shift key is still sticking! Delightful.
___________________________________________________________________________________
I got on here yesterday to lament a bit about how holiday weekends always start out rainy. This one was no exception, but now, Sunday, the weather seems to be much improved. I'll take it--the sun has been out all day. However, rain is forecast for tomorrow. Hmm.
I'm not anti-rain, per se, but my bones are. I don't have an achy-breaky heart, but I do have achy-breaky joints, and all this wet and gloomy has made me stiff and swollen and not at all a happy camper. I want to walk up a hill without begging my knees and hips to suck it up and get to the top. I want to make a fist. I want to get comfortable.
Today's sunshine has been helpful in this regard. I even put on some sunscreen and went out to soak up some good old vitamin D. Took the little old doggie with me. We both moved better afterward. Amazing. Sunshine is sometimes the best medicine of all.
(Don't tell my kids--they are dreading hot weather. But I'm not opposed to feeling less achy-breaky even if I'm sweaty. Hahaha!)
___________________________________________________________________________________
6:17 p.m.
It appears that the television sets in this house are going to bite the dust, one by one. Hmm.
It's not that much of an issue for me. I can watch on my computer, my phone or my Kindle. no problemo. But as for the rest of the family--I don't think I want everyone gathered around my phone! So I guess it might be time to t.v. shop. Yuck.
I'd rather buy Alice Cooper tickets.
Ah, it's summer. Let "em go outside and play. Right?
___________________________________________________________________________________
This particular post is pretty telling in that it shows that there are times when there is little to nothing of value on my mind.
I could go off on politics, but I'm not in the mood.
I'm going to sign off for now and hope I can think of something inspiring to say regarding Memorial Day.
Bye now!
3:29 p.m.
So we have this little dog named Trixie. She's getting up there in years, and has developed a marked intolerance for certain sounds. God forbid that the baby should cry--Trixie will howl mournfully along with her.
My daughter loves to sing along with most anything she's doing, which also leads to doggie howls.
Violins in musical pieces can set off quite a display, too. Heaven help us if the remote control isn't readily at hand to turn the volume down. Sad movie scenes are the worst!
A couple days ago my daughter and son were watching "Little House on the Prairie" (Yes, you read that correctly--they bought the whole series!) and Charles Ingalls was playing the fiddle. I immediately tensed up--oh no! Trixie is going to go off like a firecracker! Where's the remote?
Trixie remained asleep at my feet. Whew!
Then another character takes the fiddle and plays a rather unimpressive rendition of "Flight of the Bumblebee". I was sure that the time for Trixtheatrics had come.
Nothing.
Five minutes later, the toddler starts singing something, and Trixie immediately goes nuts: Yike, yike yike!
Lord, it's so much fun around here.
She's currently howling at absolutely nothing. Hmm. Poor old girl.
___________________________________________________________________________________
May 28, 2017
6:00 p.m.
Well, I was quite the ball-dropper yesterday, it seems.
Actually, I was working away when my little granddaughter decided to help me spill soda on my keyboard. Yay. My shift key is still sticking! Delightful.
___________________________________________________________________________________
I got on here yesterday to lament a bit about how holiday weekends always start out rainy. This one was no exception, but now, Sunday, the weather seems to be much improved. I'll take it--the sun has been out all day. However, rain is forecast for tomorrow. Hmm.
I'm not anti-rain, per se, but my bones are. I don't have an achy-breaky heart, but I do have achy-breaky joints, and all this wet and gloomy has made me stiff and swollen and not at all a happy camper. I want to walk up a hill without begging my knees and hips to suck it up and get to the top. I want to make a fist. I want to get comfortable.
Today's sunshine has been helpful in this regard. I even put on some sunscreen and went out to soak up some good old vitamin D. Took the little old doggie with me. We both moved better afterward. Amazing. Sunshine is sometimes the best medicine of all.
(Don't tell my kids--they are dreading hot weather. But I'm not opposed to feeling less achy-breaky even if I'm sweaty. Hahaha!)
___________________________________________________________________________________
6:17 p.m.
It appears that the television sets in this house are going to bite the dust, one by one. Hmm.
It's not that much of an issue for me. I can watch on my computer, my phone or my Kindle. no problemo. But as for the rest of the family--I don't think I want everyone gathered around my phone! So I guess it might be time to t.v. shop. Yuck.
I'd rather buy Alice Cooper tickets.
Ah, it's summer. Let "em go outside and play. Right?
___________________________________________________________________________________
This particular post is pretty telling in that it shows that there are times when there is little to nothing of value on my mind.
I could go off on politics, but I'm not in the mood.
I'm going to sign off for now and hope I can think of something inspiring to say regarding Memorial Day.
Bye now!
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017
10:33 p.m.
I know I'm being a little ridiculous, but there's just nothing fun about being called in for a 2nd mammogram.
I bussed over to the women's clinic on the 12th of May. Got off the bus for the "short" walk from bus stop to clinic. It looked so easy on the map!
Yeah, right! It was an uphill climb. Whew! Crazy people told me not to wear deodorant! I was considerate enough to wash my armpits before the test. Hahaha!
God, I'm out of shape! My bad knee has been complaining vehemently ever since. I can walk forever on level surfaces, but uphill climbs take their toll, and maybe I misstepped or twisted or something, who knows?
I followed up the knee abuse when I went to the dentist on the 15th and walked home. It was only a mile, but I had to rest a couple of times, because--ouch! And an asthma attack, to boot.
Anyway, the point is, I had my mammogram. Never my finest moments, you know? Some stranger grabbing your girls and shoving them around until they're in just the right place, and then squashing them--not my idea of a good time. So you can imagine my joy when I got a call this morning asking me to come back for another look at lefty-girl.
Doggone it.
Here's the thing. I did this five years ago. I had to be re-tested that time for an anomaly. When I went on the 12th, we ordered the old films for comparison. Apparently, the place has told them there were no films. So this morning I went through my desk looking for old medical records. found the letter I got from the first clinic which had my medical record on it. Called the new place and gave them the added information. They have re-ordered the films. I have a new appointment for follow-up test, but if I'm VERY lucky the films will be found now and will show the same anomaly I was re-tested for last time and I can skip the whole thing.
I'm hoping for the best.
Still, you have to know it's a little nerve-wracking. I hate waiting. It's scary. I'm really attached to my girls, you know.
___________________________________________________________________________________
On the brighter side, having been forced to go through paper work means I shredded a bunch of paperwork that I no longer need to save.
What a pack-rat I am!
Of course, the shredder scared the dog and she howled for five minutes straight. Everything seems to make her cry these days. She can't handle my daughter's or granddaughter's singing, certain music on the television, or the baby crying. Poor old gal.
At least there's more room in my desk drawer now. For a couple of days, at least. Ha!
___________________________________________________________________________________
I've been trying to avoid the news lately, but it's impossible to ignore.
I'm so disappointed in this administration. Honestly, one doesn't go into a thing hoping for failure. I hoped they could do things right.
I'm out of hope.
This is a hateful group. It's frightening that so many people are on board a train that will take healthcare from millions, underfund public schools, eliminate after-school programs and school lunch programs and literally take the food from babies mouths. Children and Senior citizens apparently don't matter. How can a huge group who scream about the rights of the unborn child then turn around and cut funds that will help feed and educate the babies they claim they want to save?
Heartless hypocrites!
I'm sadly sickened by the whole mess.
Boo.
___________________________________________________________________________________
11:39 p.m.
School's out for summer! The kids are going to be so happy--for about a week. The the old "I'm bored! I don't have anything to do! Poor me!" nonsense will start.
Summer vacation. Phooey!
We are getting seriously excited for ComiCon, though!!
And I'm still wracking my brain for a way to get to the Alice Cooper concert. It's not in the budget, but it is in my dreams!
Wish me luck!
___________________________________________________________________________________
And now, friends, I bid you all a good-night!
10:33 p.m.
I know I'm being a little ridiculous, but there's just nothing fun about being called in for a 2nd mammogram.
I bussed over to the women's clinic on the 12th of May. Got off the bus for the "short" walk from bus stop to clinic. It looked so easy on the map!
Yeah, right! It was an uphill climb. Whew! Crazy people told me not to wear deodorant! I was considerate enough to wash my armpits before the test. Hahaha!
God, I'm out of shape! My bad knee has been complaining vehemently ever since. I can walk forever on level surfaces, but uphill climbs take their toll, and maybe I misstepped or twisted or something, who knows?
I followed up the knee abuse when I went to the dentist on the 15th and walked home. It was only a mile, but I had to rest a couple of times, because--ouch! And an asthma attack, to boot.
Anyway, the point is, I had my mammogram. Never my finest moments, you know? Some stranger grabbing your girls and shoving them around until they're in just the right place, and then squashing them--not my idea of a good time. So you can imagine my joy when I got a call this morning asking me to come back for another look at lefty-girl.
Doggone it.
Here's the thing. I did this five years ago. I had to be re-tested that time for an anomaly. When I went on the 12th, we ordered the old films for comparison. Apparently, the place has told them there were no films. So this morning I went through my desk looking for old medical records. found the letter I got from the first clinic which had my medical record on it. Called the new place and gave them the added information. They have re-ordered the films. I have a new appointment for follow-up test, but if I'm VERY lucky the films will be found now and will show the same anomaly I was re-tested for last time and I can skip the whole thing.
I'm hoping for the best.
Still, you have to know it's a little nerve-wracking. I hate waiting. It's scary. I'm really attached to my girls, you know.
___________________________________________________________________________________
On the brighter side, having been forced to go through paper work means I shredded a bunch of paperwork that I no longer need to save.
What a pack-rat I am!
Of course, the shredder scared the dog and she howled for five minutes straight. Everything seems to make her cry these days. She can't handle my daughter's or granddaughter's singing, certain music on the television, or the baby crying. Poor old gal.
At least there's more room in my desk drawer now. For a couple of days, at least. Ha!
___________________________________________________________________________________
I've been trying to avoid the news lately, but it's impossible to ignore.
I'm so disappointed in this administration. Honestly, one doesn't go into a thing hoping for failure. I hoped they could do things right.
I'm out of hope.
This is a hateful group. It's frightening that so many people are on board a train that will take healthcare from millions, underfund public schools, eliminate after-school programs and school lunch programs and literally take the food from babies mouths. Children and Senior citizens apparently don't matter. How can a huge group who scream about the rights of the unborn child then turn around and cut funds that will help feed and educate the babies they claim they want to save?
Heartless hypocrites!
I'm sadly sickened by the whole mess.
Boo.
___________________________________________________________________________________
11:39 p.m.
School's out for summer! The kids are going to be so happy--for about a week. The the old "I'm bored! I don't have anything to do! Poor me!" nonsense will start.
Summer vacation. Phooey!
We are getting seriously excited for ComiCon, though!!
And I'm still wracking my brain for a way to get to the Alice Cooper concert. It's not in the budget, but it is in my dreams!
Wish me luck!
___________________________________________________________________________________
And now, friends, I bid you all a good-night!
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
May 15, 2017
9:48 p.m.
Is there anything more fun than a trip to the dentist?
What's that you say? Everything is more fun than a trip to the dentist?
Yep. I agree with you.
So, you probably think I went to the dentist today. You're absolutely right! And, fool that I am, I scheduled it for first thing in the morning, effectively wrecking a whole day.
Not all my trips to the dentist are awful. Really! But today--ugh.
Basically, all I needed was a couple of fillings. So it should have been simple, right? But I have another tooth that needs a root canal, and I can't afford to have it done yet. It's right next to "simple filling tooth", which--even though I asked for numbing--the dentist decided didn't need to be numbed, So when he started to work, and the assistant was blowing air on that poor tooth, I said, "No, no, no, you have to stop this! Ow!"
Well, he stopped and took a look, and said, "Oh, look, you have a bad tooth right here! That's why you wanted to be numbed! Now we're on the same page!"
Well...DUH!
So they numbed me up and started on the other tooth--on the other side of my mouth--instead, and that went fine.
Then we had the filling vs crown talk, and I can't afford a crown right now, so the filling I just had is destined to fail sometime in the future. Yay.
After the appointment I had to deal with an asthma attack, so I sat myself down at a bus stop and took a couple of pulls on the old lung-sucker until everything settled down. I think bone dust and stinky pain injections might have played a role in that, but most likely it was just good old pollen and pollution.
I walked home--a little over a mile--and my bum knee, which is already mad at me for the uphill trek I took on Friday's mammogram trip, decided to swell and stiffen up, so I actually had to take another rest at another bus stop. It bummed me out; that's a simple walk, usually! Gee whiz!
It took me almost twice as long to make the walk home than it usually does, and by that time, the good old pain meds were wearing off. At least my lower lip no longer made me feel like Forrest Gump's good friend Bubba. But my still-bad tooth was singing a mournful song, and all the injection sites were part of the chorus. My knee was competing with my mouthl, doing an "I feel worst" mantra that sent me limping to my room to watch "Supernatural" reruns and avoid people.
Twelve hours later, I think the knee might be winning the whining race. I might have to deal with that joint one of these days. It's been ages since the last flare up. I wish I knew what really did it--I walk all the time, so I probably just stepped and twisted a little incorrectly.
I feel old.
By the way, does anyone else feel like the worst thing you can do after a dental visit is yawn? Ow!
Hahaha!
___________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, I'm done complaining about going to the dentist. I should be grateful that I could go and get some work done. At least I kept all the teeth they messed with today!
See? Now I am smiling.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Now I am sitting here with my granddaughter watching "Home Alone". How funny. It's not time for Christmas in July yet--it's not even June!
___________________________________________________________________________________
Hey! I just found out Alice Cooper is going to be at the Paramount next month. How did I not know this sooner?! Must manage tickets! Must manage tickets! I will probably have to go alone this time, if I manage to make it there at all. I'm not very happy with myself for not knowing this sooner. Bad me.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Wow, the house in "Home Alone" is amazing. My granddaughter and I agree that we'd be pretty happy in that house. She could spend all her time on the third floor. Awesome. Of course, we could never afford it--but we can dream!
___________________________________________________________________________________
There's an advantage--and probably a disadvantage as well--to retreating to your room and watching re-runs all day. I missed a lot of news coverage during the day. Sadly, I turned on my computer this evening and--hoo boy! I miss the days when I ignored the news. I miss the days when I didn't care about politics. I was happy in my ignorance. Now I live in fear of a madman who is nothing more than an overgrown bully and show-off who has no filters and can't keep his mouth shut. Sad.
It irks me.
I never get to use that work: Irk. I find him irksome.
Tee hee hee.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Well, it is time for me to say good night.
So...Good night!!
9:48 p.m.
Is there anything more fun than a trip to the dentist?
What's that you say? Everything is more fun than a trip to the dentist?
Yep. I agree with you.
So, you probably think I went to the dentist today. You're absolutely right! And, fool that I am, I scheduled it for first thing in the morning, effectively wrecking a whole day.
Not all my trips to the dentist are awful. Really! But today--ugh.
Basically, all I needed was a couple of fillings. So it should have been simple, right? But I have another tooth that needs a root canal, and I can't afford to have it done yet. It's right next to "simple filling tooth", which--even though I asked for numbing--the dentist decided didn't need to be numbed, So when he started to work, and the assistant was blowing air on that poor tooth, I said, "No, no, no, you have to stop this! Ow!"
Well, he stopped and took a look, and said, "Oh, look, you have a bad tooth right here! That's why you wanted to be numbed! Now we're on the same page!"
Well...DUH!
So they numbed me up and started on the other tooth--on the other side of my mouth--instead, and that went fine.
Then we had the filling vs crown talk, and I can't afford a crown right now, so the filling I just had is destined to fail sometime in the future. Yay.
After the appointment I had to deal with an asthma attack, so I sat myself down at a bus stop and took a couple of pulls on the old lung-sucker until everything settled down. I think bone dust and stinky pain injections might have played a role in that, but most likely it was just good old pollen and pollution.
I walked home--a little over a mile--and my bum knee, which is already mad at me for the uphill trek I took on Friday's mammogram trip, decided to swell and stiffen up, so I actually had to take another rest at another bus stop. It bummed me out; that's a simple walk, usually! Gee whiz!
It took me almost twice as long to make the walk home than it usually does, and by that time, the good old pain meds were wearing off. At least my lower lip no longer made me feel like Forrest Gump's good friend Bubba. But my still-bad tooth was singing a mournful song, and all the injection sites were part of the chorus. My knee was competing with my mouthl, doing an "I feel worst" mantra that sent me limping to my room to watch "Supernatural" reruns and avoid people.
Twelve hours later, I think the knee might be winning the whining race. I might have to deal with that joint one of these days. It's been ages since the last flare up. I wish I knew what really did it--I walk all the time, so I probably just stepped and twisted a little incorrectly.
I feel old.
By the way, does anyone else feel like the worst thing you can do after a dental visit is yawn? Ow!
Hahaha!
___________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, I'm done complaining about going to the dentist. I should be grateful that I could go and get some work done. At least I kept all the teeth they messed with today!
See? Now I am smiling.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Now I am sitting here with my granddaughter watching "Home Alone". How funny. It's not time for Christmas in July yet--it's not even June!
___________________________________________________________________________________
Hey! I just found out Alice Cooper is going to be at the Paramount next month. How did I not know this sooner?! Must manage tickets! Must manage tickets! I will probably have to go alone this time, if I manage to make it there at all. I'm not very happy with myself for not knowing this sooner. Bad me.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Wow, the house in "Home Alone" is amazing. My granddaughter and I agree that we'd be pretty happy in that house. She could spend all her time on the third floor. Awesome. Of course, we could never afford it--but we can dream!
___________________________________________________________________________________
There's an advantage--and probably a disadvantage as well--to retreating to your room and watching re-runs all day. I missed a lot of news coverage during the day. Sadly, I turned on my computer this evening and--hoo boy! I miss the days when I ignored the news. I miss the days when I didn't care about politics. I was happy in my ignorance. Now I live in fear of a madman who is nothing more than an overgrown bully and show-off who has no filters and can't keep his mouth shut. Sad.
It irks me.
I never get to use that work: Irk. I find him irksome.
Tee hee hee.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Well, it is time for me to say good night.
So...Good night!!
Monday, May 15, 2017
May 14, 2017
10:33 p.m.
See these people? These are mine. Depending on the day, I take all the credit, or all the blame. Hahaha! My monsters.
Today was a very nice day.
As I may have mentioned, the plan for the day was to celebrate my grandson's 10th birthday and also Mother's Day, and we did that. And it all went off without a hitch.
Therefore, a very nice day.
I like days when the family gets together, eats, talks, and everything goes well. No cake dropped on the floor. No spats. No crying.
Well, okay, I did some crying. We watched "Terms of Endearment". It's on of my all-time favorite movies, and I defy anyone to sit through that and not cry. "Give my daughter the shot!!" Oh, Shirley! Whew!
We also made a valiant attempt at watching "Mother's Day", because it was appropriate for the day, but the toddlers were keeping me a little too busy to really see the whole thing, so I'll have to try that again in the future. Not a big deal--I will never mind being distracted my toddlers! They are the best distraction.
Cake and ice cream were enjoyed by all. The birthday boy got a new bike, so no complaints there. And I don't know if you can tell, but a Mario Brothers cake? Very cool.
See? A very good day. Thanks, family and friends! I'm so lucky to be a Mom.
10:33 p.m.
See these people? These are mine. Depending on the day, I take all the credit, or all the blame. Hahaha! My monsters.
Today was a very nice day.
As I may have mentioned, the plan for the day was to celebrate my grandson's 10th birthday and also Mother's Day, and we did that. And it all went off without a hitch.
Therefore, a very nice day.
I like days when the family gets together, eats, talks, and everything goes well. No cake dropped on the floor. No spats. No crying.
Well, okay, I did some crying. We watched "Terms of Endearment". It's on of my all-time favorite movies, and I defy anyone to sit through that and not cry. "Give my daughter the shot!!" Oh, Shirley! Whew!
We also made a valiant attempt at watching "Mother's Day", because it was appropriate for the day, but the toddlers were keeping me a little too busy to really see the whole thing, so I'll have to try that again in the future. Not a big deal--I will never mind being distracted my toddlers! They are the best distraction.
Cake and ice cream were enjoyed by all. The birthday boy got a new bike, so no complaints there. And I don't know if you can tell, but a Mario Brothers cake? Very cool.
So today my house was full of family, and that always makes me happy. I got to eat chocolate cake, which also makes me happy. I rocked a baby to sleep, hugged all my grandchildren and got flowers and candy.
See? A very good day. Thanks, family and friends! I'm so lucky to be a Mom.
Sunday, May 14, 2017
May 13, 2017
11:52 p.m.
Sometimes the best things for us are the hardest things to do. Most times, really.
It's so not fair, but we all know it's true.
Yesterday I jumped on the bus and went to get my mammogram. It's been awhile, and the time had come, so I took the advise of my doctor and went and got it taken care of.
While I was at it, I walked. A lot. UPHILL. Oh my God, I am so out of shape after the long winter. Yeah, I made it, but I sure was out of breath when I got to the top of that hill. It looked easy on the map when I charted my bus trip and the twenty minute walk from the bus stop to the clinic. Yeah, those little maps don't tell you about hills. Whew!
Yesterday I actually managed to do two things that really are best for me--an mammogram and exercise. Today my knee is stiff and swollen and my heel is pretty sore, too, but they'll both get over it. I'd be fine if I hadn't been so lax this past winter.
I did it, but it was hard. I don't love exercise, and I sure don't enjoy having my girls smashed. I did it because it could potentially keep me alive a little longer.
The next hard thing I need to do is sit down and map out an eating plan that I probably won't love, that will surely be hard, but in the long run might make my life a little more livable. Because what I've been doing is absolutely not working.
Why are the best things hard to do?
The very best thing I ever did was become a mother. I was lucky; for me becoming pregnant wasn't ever hard. Some women really have to work at the process to get it started, but I was fortunate. I suffered some morning sickness. I labored and delivered on four different occasions and didn't have to deal with drugs or epidurals.
While that whole process can be difficult for many, the hard part of motherhood for me was dealing with teenagers and willful young adults. At a certain point our children decided that Mom is dumb and outdated and cannot possibly understand what they're going through. Sometimes they get over it; especially when they become parents themselves. But sometimes they don't. Sometimes no matter how you try to help, to advise, to listen and be there, things don't go perfectly or they just don't listen.
That's hard. You want the very best for your children. And sometimes, try as you might, you can't give it to them.
I think the hardest words for me to hear from my children, one after the other, was "I can do it myself."
Harder still was admitting to myself that, as a general rule, they really could.
During the times when our children really can't do it all themselves, it's hard to stand back and let them try. Even when we know that it might be best, it's a built-in imperative to want to "fix it" for them.
My kids are in their thirties now, with kids of their own, and I still am the Mom who wants to be able o "fix it". Being a Mom is a tough job. But it's still the best thing I have ever done.
___________________________________________________________________________________
May 14, 2017
12:38 a.m.
Since I just brought it up in the context of hard things, it's really easy for me to go on now and wish all the Moms out there a Very Happy Mother's Day!
I have been extremely blessed to have the BEST Mother. She raised five children who all love her with all our hearts. She's smart and tough and has a huge heart. She doesn't suffer fools gladly, stands up for herself and her loved ones and knows the value of a good sense of humor.
My daughters all have become mothers, too, and each of them now deal daily with a teenaged girl. Ah, the last laugh is mine.
Not really.
I have had the good fortune to watch a few other girls in my life grow into wonderful mothers--my sisters. friends of my daughters, my friends and their daughters. It's been an amazing journey, that quick trip from girlhood, to motherhood and then to grandmotherhood.
By the way--being a grandmother is kind of the best of the best. You don't have to be the bad guy so much, What a relief!
___________________________________________________________________________________
It's Mother's Day. It's Sunday. Also, in a few hours we will be doing cake and ice cream for that ten-year-old grandson of mine who had his birthday in the middle of the week.
I guess I should be thinking of bed right about now. I have two grandsons sleeping in front of the t.v. right now. Their sisters are at my daughter's house for the night. The baby is probably still keeping her mom awake in the back bedroom. (I think she's related to me--that kid never wants to go to sleep!)
Instead, here I am typing away and listening to some classic Stevie Nicks, just because.
Oh, I sense some surprise out there. I don't ONLY listen to Alice Cooper, you know!
Honest!
___________________________________________________________________________________
I am going to call it a night now, though. I'm going to read. And maybe sleep.
Good night!
11:52 p.m.
Sometimes the best things for us are the hardest things to do. Most times, really.
It's so not fair, but we all know it's true.
Yesterday I jumped on the bus and went to get my mammogram. It's been awhile, and the time had come, so I took the advise of my doctor and went and got it taken care of.
While I was at it, I walked. A lot. UPHILL. Oh my God, I am so out of shape after the long winter. Yeah, I made it, but I sure was out of breath when I got to the top of that hill. It looked easy on the map when I charted my bus trip and the twenty minute walk from the bus stop to the clinic. Yeah, those little maps don't tell you about hills. Whew!
Yesterday I actually managed to do two things that really are best for me--an mammogram and exercise. Today my knee is stiff and swollen and my heel is pretty sore, too, but they'll both get over it. I'd be fine if I hadn't been so lax this past winter.
I did it, but it was hard. I don't love exercise, and I sure don't enjoy having my girls smashed. I did it because it could potentially keep me alive a little longer.
The next hard thing I need to do is sit down and map out an eating plan that I probably won't love, that will surely be hard, but in the long run might make my life a little more livable. Because what I've been doing is absolutely not working.
Why are the best things hard to do?
The very best thing I ever did was become a mother. I was lucky; for me becoming pregnant wasn't ever hard. Some women really have to work at the process to get it started, but I was fortunate. I suffered some morning sickness. I labored and delivered on four different occasions and didn't have to deal with drugs or epidurals.
While that whole process can be difficult for many, the hard part of motherhood for me was dealing with teenagers and willful young adults. At a certain point our children decided that Mom is dumb and outdated and cannot possibly understand what they're going through. Sometimes they get over it; especially when they become parents themselves. But sometimes they don't. Sometimes no matter how you try to help, to advise, to listen and be there, things don't go perfectly or they just don't listen.
That's hard. You want the very best for your children. And sometimes, try as you might, you can't give it to them.
I think the hardest words for me to hear from my children, one after the other, was "I can do it myself."
Harder still was admitting to myself that, as a general rule, they really could.
During the times when our children really can't do it all themselves, it's hard to stand back and let them try. Even when we know that it might be best, it's a built-in imperative to want to "fix it" for them.
My kids are in their thirties now, with kids of their own, and I still am the Mom who wants to be able o "fix it". Being a Mom is a tough job. But it's still the best thing I have ever done.
___________________________________________________________________________________
May 14, 2017
12:38 a.m.
Since I just brought it up in the context of hard things, it's really easy for me to go on now and wish all the Moms out there a Very Happy Mother's Day!
I have been extremely blessed to have the BEST Mother. She raised five children who all love her with all our hearts. She's smart and tough and has a huge heart. She doesn't suffer fools gladly, stands up for herself and her loved ones and knows the value of a good sense of humor.
My daughters all have become mothers, too, and each of them now deal daily with a teenaged girl. Ah, the last laugh is mine.
Not really.
I have had the good fortune to watch a few other girls in my life grow into wonderful mothers--my sisters. friends of my daughters, my friends and their daughters. It's been an amazing journey, that quick trip from girlhood, to motherhood and then to grandmotherhood.
By the way--being a grandmother is kind of the best of the best. You don't have to be the bad guy so much, What a relief!
___________________________________________________________________________________
It's Mother's Day. It's Sunday. Also, in a few hours we will be doing cake and ice cream for that ten-year-old grandson of mine who had his birthday in the middle of the week.
I guess I should be thinking of bed right about now. I have two grandsons sleeping in front of the t.v. right now. Their sisters are at my daughter's house for the night. The baby is probably still keeping her mom awake in the back bedroom. (I think she's related to me--that kid never wants to go to sleep!)
Instead, here I am typing away and listening to some classic Stevie Nicks, just because.
Oh, I sense some surprise out there. I don't ONLY listen to Alice Cooper, you know!
Honest!
___________________________________________________________________________________
I am going to call it a night now, though. I'm going to read. And maybe sleep.
Good night!
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017
5:44 p.m.
Today my number two grandson is ten years old! Wow! Someone else is another year older. He's a cutie, that guy.
I've been lucky to be able to spend more time with him this past year, since the family moved to Colorado.
Happy Birthday, Byron!!
Yep. I just did my own birthday a few days ago. I think it's easier for kids. It's all cake and ice cream and presents, and getting older is exciting.
Not so much for grownups, though, huh?
Birthdays, man. Once a year you get that reminder that time stops for no man. You make your appointment for the annual physical so the doctor can collect the co-pay and tell you that you're still here, you still have asthma and arthritis and gastrointestinal disorders and you're still fat. You renew the prescriptions--and maybe add a couple more, who knows? You get the lecture about diet and exercise. You get scolded for not having your mammogram done yet.
Then you go out to lunch, because doggone it, it's your freakin' birthday and you deserve a cheeseburger. And maybe fries. So there.
You walk home, and get lucky--the rain starts after you get to the house!
And then your lunch makes you sick, because you really, really shouldn't try to eat people food. You should eat jello. You're old. You have gastrointestinal issues. Dummy!
And now I'm sitting here with a belly ache, going over the prescription refills and looking over the actual cost, my cost and the amount my insurance saves me, and all I can think is: Oh, my God! What will I do if I lose my insurance?
I took out a calculator and figured out my annual costs out-of-pocket on these prescriptions--just these and not the other two I will have refilled in a couple of weeks. The cost to me would be over half of what I make in a year. Anyone who has ever doubted me when I said I would end up living in a refrigerator crate without coverage--you can suck it. The proof is right there on my receipts. I'll be interested to see the grand total once I refill the other two prescriptions.
Did I say interested? I meant terrified.
And I thought I was in a little funk when the GOP pushed through their repeal and replace bill on my dang birthday! Now I really feel blue. And a little more sick to my stomach than I did before I really read through my receipts.
Seriously--is this for real? Why the hell is my medication retail-priced so blasted high? I am not kidding, they are ridiculously high! Oh, yeah, I remember now. Big Pharma. If this mess actually happens I will have to choose between housing and food or the medication that keeps me from being miserable or possibly dead. I certainly won't be able to have it all.
And those costs don't even include my premiums, medical office visits, diagnostic tests or possible hospitalizations or ER visits. Just medications. Just remaining on the plan I have now challenges my budget. I eat poorly. My house needs repairs I can't afford. I no longer own a car.
But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I am really grateful to be insured. I work my budget around my premium payments and my co-pays and I thank God that I finally was able to qualify for a plan at all, because I spent years uninsured or under-insured due to pre-existing conditions.
The possibility that it could all be taken away makes me ill. It scares me to death.
And it's not okay. I shouldn't have to be in a position where I have to decide between medical care or a place to live. No one should be put in a position like that!
Now, I certainly can't speak for everyone, and I'm not trying to. I'm well aware of those who have had their own premiums skyrocket under Obamacare, because they have been VERY persistent about reminding me over and over. I get it. I sympathize. It's not like I want anyone to have to pay huge premiums. But I promise, if I was convinced that this administration had a plan that would help us all, I would be behind it all the way.
They don't. So forget it--I'm fighting it all the way.
Why? Because, you know that grandson I mentioned earlier? The one who just turned ten? Well, he's just one of my nine grandchildren. I want to celebrate ALL their birthdays. I want to see them ALL graduate. I want to see them fall in love and have kids of their own. I want to see them choose careers and watch them perform in school programs and take them out to ComiCon. All of them. Even the one who is only one year old now. That means I need to stay alive for awhile. And I don't think that's asking too much.
I also don't think a bunch of rich men looking to line their pockets and those of big corporations and Big Pharma have the right to make that decision for me. Or for anyone.
So now, I have to pay attention to politics and make phone calls and write letters and generally become one of those boring old people who argue about policy-making and political parties and the benefits of actually going to the polls and casting a vote.
Ugh.
Why are kids so excited about growing up, anyway? See where it gets you? Yuck!
Dear Byron, I'm glad you're able to enjoy your special day without having any grown-up worries, and I hope time doesn't pass so quickly that you don't get to relish every day of being a kid. I love you so much, kiddo! Have fun and be a kid as long as possible.
But don't drop your candy wrappers on the floor. You're too old for that already!
I'm ready to get back to editing my book, so I will say goodnight for now!
Sleep tight!
5:44 p.m.
Today my number two grandson is ten years old! Wow! Someone else is another year older. He's a cutie, that guy.
I've been lucky to be able to spend more time with him this past year, since the family moved to Colorado.
Happy Birthday, Byron!!
Yep. I just did my own birthday a few days ago. I think it's easier for kids. It's all cake and ice cream and presents, and getting older is exciting.
Not so much for grownups, though, huh?
Birthdays, man. Once a year you get that reminder that time stops for no man. You make your appointment for the annual physical so the doctor can collect the co-pay and tell you that you're still here, you still have asthma and arthritis and gastrointestinal disorders and you're still fat. You renew the prescriptions--and maybe add a couple more, who knows? You get the lecture about diet and exercise. You get scolded for not having your mammogram done yet.
Then you go out to lunch, because doggone it, it's your freakin' birthday and you deserve a cheeseburger. And maybe fries. So there.
You walk home, and get lucky--the rain starts after you get to the house!
And then your lunch makes you sick, because you really, really shouldn't try to eat people food. You should eat jello. You're old. You have gastrointestinal issues. Dummy!
And now I'm sitting here with a belly ache, going over the prescription refills and looking over the actual cost, my cost and the amount my insurance saves me, and all I can think is: Oh, my God! What will I do if I lose my insurance?
I took out a calculator and figured out my annual costs out-of-pocket on these prescriptions--just these and not the other two I will have refilled in a couple of weeks. The cost to me would be over half of what I make in a year. Anyone who has ever doubted me when I said I would end up living in a refrigerator crate without coverage--you can suck it. The proof is right there on my receipts. I'll be interested to see the grand total once I refill the other two prescriptions.
Did I say interested? I meant terrified.
And I thought I was in a little funk when the GOP pushed through their repeal and replace bill on my dang birthday! Now I really feel blue. And a little more sick to my stomach than I did before I really read through my receipts.
Seriously--is this for real? Why the hell is my medication retail-priced so blasted high? I am not kidding, they are ridiculously high! Oh, yeah, I remember now. Big Pharma. If this mess actually happens I will have to choose between housing and food or the medication that keeps me from being miserable or possibly dead. I certainly won't be able to have it all.
And those costs don't even include my premiums, medical office visits, diagnostic tests or possible hospitalizations or ER visits. Just medications. Just remaining on the plan I have now challenges my budget. I eat poorly. My house needs repairs I can't afford. I no longer own a car.
But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I am really grateful to be insured. I work my budget around my premium payments and my co-pays and I thank God that I finally was able to qualify for a plan at all, because I spent years uninsured or under-insured due to pre-existing conditions.
The possibility that it could all be taken away makes me ill. It scares me to death.
And it's not okay. I shouldn't have to be in a position where I have to decide between medical care or a place to live. No one should be put in a position like that!
Now, I certainly can't speak for everyone, and I'm not trying to. I'm well aware of those who have had their own premiums skyrocket under Obamacare, because they have been VERY persistent about reminding me over and over. I get it. I sympathize. It's not like I want anyone to have to pay huge premiums. But I promise, if I was convinced that this administration had a plan that would help us all, I would be behind it all the way.
They don't. So forget it--I'm fighting it all the way.
Why? Because, you know that grandson I mentioned earlier? The one who just turned ten? Well, he's just one of my nine grandchildren. I want to celebrate ALL their birthdays. I want to see them ALL graduate. I want to see them fall in love and have kids of their own. I want to see them choose careers and watch them perform in school programs and take them out to ComiCon. All of them. Even the one who is only one year old now. That means I need to stay alive for awhile. And I don't think that's asking too much.
I also don't think a bunch of rich men looking to line their pockets and those of big corporations and Big Pharma have the right to make that decision for me. Or for anyone.
So now, I have to pay attention to politics and make phone calls and write letters and generally become one of those boring old people who argue about policy-making and political parties and the benefits of actually going to the polls and casting a vote.
Ugh.
Why are kids so excited about growing up, anyway? See where it gets you? Yuck!
Dear Byron, I'm glad you're able to enjoy your special day without having any grown-up worries, and I hope time doesn't pass so quickly that you don't get to relish every day of being a kid. I love you so much, kiddo! Have fun and be a kid as long as possible.
But don't drop your candy wrappers on the floor. You're too old for that already!
I'm ready to get back to editing my book, so I will say goodnight for now!
Sleep tight!
May 8, 2017
11:20 p.m.
I attempted to write a post on my birthday, which was a few days ago. Oh my, another year older.
I am completely floored: another year has gone by! I got a little sidetracked though, because...politics. Grr. Ugh. Phooey!
But, I digress.
I was recently asked my age, and the question left me speechless. Not because I'm one of those "Never ask a woman her age" women--I couldn't care less if someone wants to ask me how old I am. I was just speechless because for a few seconds there, I couldn't come up with a number!
No, I'm not going senile.
Yes, I know there are those of you who would argue with me about that. To you, I offer a "raspberry". I can still draw the face of a clock accurately, so there!
(I'm waiting with bated breath for someone to ask me what that means. Please ask!)
Think about it, though. Think about how quickly we went from May 2000 to May 2017. I'm serious, it went by FAST.
I moved to Colorado in 1999, but I celebrated my first birthday here in May, 2000. I meant to stay here for only a couple of years, but I'm still here! Nearly two decades have gone by. Wow.
My first grandchild was born in 1999. She's graduating High School later this month. Wow.
Since 1999 I have graduated from college myself and held five different jobs. I've become disabled and had to retire. I've spent the last couple of years working toward a goal of coming out of retirement in a new profession. I'm not so sure that will work out, but I have hope.
Just in case the job stuff didn't work out, I wrote and published a novella. I am now in the process of editing my novel, which took me the better part of six months and a ton of research to write.
I ALWAYS wanted to be a writer; I'm not too old to make some dreams come true. That's good to know.
That darned disability thing, now...I've been in the hospital for one thing or another several times. It's a drag, and I continue to fight back, because...dang it, I'm too young for retirement.
Since 1999 I've been blessed with eight more grandchildren. I have nine grandchildren!
And I don't quite believe it, you know? How did all those things happen so darned fast? Can it really be that almost eighteen years have gone by in the time I could blink? Because it really seems that way sometimes.
So...how old am I? Well, what year is it again? Let me count...OH MY GOD!!! Really?!
Yeah. I'm an elder. Who would have ever thought it?
I don't feel any older than I did five days ago. Or last year. Or the year 2000.
Now, this is not to say that there haven't been times in between when I have felt decidedly OLDER. Times when I have been sick or in pain, I felt VERY old. Times when the insomnia has taken over the building--BIG TIME old.
(No need to remind me that it is high time I was in bed, and that I will soon feel older due to lack of sleep--you're preachin' to the choir.)
I had a nice birthday. My daughter fed me chocolate cake. People sang to me. I got a ton of messages from friends. It's nice to be reminded once in a while that there are people out there thinking about you.
On Saturday I was delighted to join my "twin", Ken, for dinner and a movie. We try to get together for our shared birthday and catch up on what's going on in our lives. We had a very nice time watching "Guardians of the Galaxy 2". He gave it seven stars out of ten. I'm more generous--I give it eight.
So, to all those who wished me a "Happy Birthday" a few days ago--THANK YOU! To Ken, who gave me a nice evening out--THANK YOU! To my family--THANK YOU!
Another year older.
Yikes.
Good night.
11:20 p.m.
I attempted to write a post on my birthday, which was a few days ago. Oh my, another year older.
I am completely floored: another year has gone by! I got a little sidetracked though, because...politics. Grr. Ugh. Phooey!
But, I digress.
I was recently asked my age, and the question left me speechless. Not because I'm one of those "Never ask a woman her age" women--I couldn't care less if someone wants to ask me how old I am. I was just speechless because for a few seconds there, I couldn't come up with a number!
No, I'm not going senile.
Yes, I know there are those of you who would argue with me about that. To you, I offer a "raspberry". I can still draw the face of a clock accurately, so there!
(I'm waiting with bated breath for someone to ask me what that means. Please ask!)
Think about it, though. Think about how quickly we went from May 2000 to May 2017. I'm serious, it went by FAST.
I moved to Colorado in 1999, but I celebrated my first birthday here in May, 2000. I meant to stay here for only a couple of years, but I'm still here! Nearly two decades have gone by. Wow.
My first grandchild was born in 1999. She's graduating High School later this month. Wow.
Since 1999 I have graduated from college myself and held five different jobs. I've become disabled and had to retire. I've spent the last couple of years working toward a goal of coming out of retirement in a new profession. I'm not so sure that will work out, but I have hope.
Just in case the job stuff didn't work out, I wrote and published a novella. I am now in the process of editing my novel, which took me the better part of six months and a ton of research to write.
I ALWAYS wanted to be a writer; I'm not too old to make some dreams come true. That's good to know.
That darned disability thing, now...I've been in the hospital for one thing or another several times. It's a drag, and I continue to fight back, because...dang it, I'm too young for retirement.
Since 1999 I've been blessed with eight more grandchildren. I have nine grandchildren!
And I don't quite believe it, you know? How did all those things happen so darned fast? Can it really be that almost eighteen years have gone by in the time I could blink? Because it really seems that way sometimes.
So...how old am I? Well, what year is it again? Let me count...OH MY GOD!!! Really?!
Yeah. I'm an elder. Who would have ever thought it?
I don't feel any older than I did five days ago. Or last year. Or the year 2000.
Now, this is not to say that there haven't been times in between when I have felt decidedly OLDER. Times when I have been sick or in pain, I felt VERY old. Times when the insomnia has taken over the building--BIG TIME old.
(No need to remind me that it is high time I was in bed, and that I will soon feel older due to lack of sleep--you're preachin' to the choir.)
I had a nice birthday. My daughter fed me chocolate cake. People sang to me. I got a ton of messages from friends. It's nice to be reminded once in a while that there are people out there thinking about you.
On Saturday I was delighted to join my "twin", Ken, for dinner and a movie. We try to get together for our shared birthday and catch up on what's going on in our lives. We had a very nice time watching "Guardians of the Galaxy 2". He gave it seven stars out of ten. I'm more generous--I give it eight.
So, to all those who wished me a "Happy Birthday" a few days ago--THANK YOU! To Ken, who gave me a nice evening out--THANK YOU! To my family--THANK YOU!
Another year older.
Yikes.
Good night.
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
May 1, 2017
11:13 p.m.
Recently I viewed a Netflix series that has been generating a lot of conflicting interest. It is called "13 Reasons Why".
Produced by Selina Gomez and starring a young cast led by Dylan Minnette and Katherine Langford, it chronicles the thirteen reasons young Hannah Baker has decided to end her own life--reasons that are shared in a series of thirteen messages recorded on cassette tapes and circulated among the peers she considered influential in her decision making.
Each episode is a recording--tape one, side one, etc. Each episode is hard to take; and each one gets progressively harder.
I am a self professed binge-watcher, but I had to take breaks pretty frequently with this series, because it is harsh and it hits home on many counts. I made it through; I was fascinated, appalled, saddened, angered.
I can't really stop thinking about it.
And you know, maybe that was the point all along. Maybe that was why the book, by Jay Asher, got written in the first place, and why Selina Gomez wanted to bring it to life in this format. So people would see it and think, what could have been changed, and would that have saved her?
It's controversial. People are absolutely talking about it. I've read articles that claim the story "glamorizes" suicide. That wasn't my impression--the death itself is ugly and painful.
Honestly, though, people who consider it as an option glamorize death for themselves, I sometimes think. They see it as an out, an end to their own suffering, and may even consider that those they leave behind will be better for it.
I've been in that dark place: the place where you're sure that the world will be a better place if you're gone, that all the suffering will end for everyone, that it's the only choice that makes sense.
I believe what saved me is the fact that I have always been a teller of tales, the "what if?" girl.
See, I worked things through.
First I considered the "how". And I realized something: death is not pretty. No matter what you do, someone has to get in there and clean it up. Even pills, or gassing yourself in the car can lead to some potential nastiness for someone else to deal with.
No one deserves that job!
So, I figured, I'd have to come up with something clean and easy. But even if I did--and that's a huge if--and I was successful--then what?
I cannot leave a story unfinished. Even if it's awful, I have to fight my way to the end. And, Oh My God, there was no way to get to a happy ending. Yeah, I'm out of the picture. Yay, me. But what about my parents? They would be entirely blameless, of course. Still, they'd blame themselves; I know I would if it was my kid.
What about my kids? Who would raise them? Was I really going to leave them to be raised by someone who was NOT ME?
Nope. If they were gonna get damaged by a rotten parent, that rotten parent was going to have to be me. Plus, what would they end up thinking of me if I just checked out and left them behind? I'd feel guilty if I died a natural death and left them, let alone...you know.
Needless to say, my "what ifs" and "then whats" and all the other things that lead to the end of any story saved me from making a big mistake. There was no way to make a happy ending happen with my exit, no matter how much I might have believed that the world might be better off without me.
I stuck around. It wasn't always easy. But I'm glad I did.
That said, the story still sticks with me, because there's still a part of me that totally gets where that girl was coming from, and the darkness in her heart. I understand the fear that things won't ever get better. I understand the desire to just close your eyes and forget the whole damned thing.
I was blessed with a wonderful family. Thank God. Every day I am grateful for that.
But no matter what. we have a road we walk alone. Your terrific parents and siblings can't shield you from the entitled jackass who informs you gleefully that he whacks off every night thinking about your tits, and then gets pissed off because you "can't accept a compliment". They can't always be there when your classmates decide to spread rumors about you, or shove you in a locker and leave you in there for an entire class period. They can't keep you from marrying the wrong man or force you to get out of the marriage once you finally come to your senses and realize you're not where you should be.
Failures are things we suffer through alone. Certainly we may receive some sympathy, but ultimately, they are ours alone. School exams, relationships, jobs--those are our burdens and worries, our successes or failures, our triumphs or tragedies.
"13 Reasons Why" reminded me that not everyone is a teller of tales. Not everyone can get to the end of their own part of the story and then ask: "And then what happens?" I'm glad I could; I'm glad I did.
But what about those who can't? What about those who literally get to "And she slept forever", and believe that's the end of the story?
This is the reason I can't get the story out of my head, and the reason I think it might be useful for people to watch this series. The rest of the story needs to be known. In this, I do not mean the reasons one might have for considering suicide in the first place. I mean the story of "then what happens?
First of all, there's no "slipping away peacefully." Even those people who are so very sick have bodies that fight to stay alive as long as possible. No matter what, it's going to be a struggle. It's going to hurt, most likely. Even if you don't bleed, you're going to make some sort of mess of yourself--vomit, urine, feces. You will not look beautiful or peaceful. You will stink.
Someone will find you. There's a fifty-fifty chance that someone will be a person you loved, a person who loved you. Even if it's not, do you really, truly hate everyone so much that you would wish upon them the discovery of a body?
If you're out for revenge, you'll never know if it worked.
If you're out for sympathy, you'll never get to receive it.
People will be sad, people will be sorry, but no one will really understand. Some will be mad as hell, and you won't be around to defend yourself. Or to say you're sorry.
Worst of all, the things you think you'll make better by dropping out won't be changed at all, because you won't be here to change them. In truth, you will make it all worse.
You'll be remembered, but your memory will always bring pain, because your death was untimely, unnecessary and cruel.
Surely we all want to leave a nicer legacy.
Suicide is not a way out, easy or otherwise. It's not brave or noble, glamorous or romantic. It is selfish and reckless and FAR from easy on anyone.
I would agree that this program is not for everyone, and if you're going to let a young person view it, you should sit down and watch with them, Be prepared for questions and debates. Be prepared to hear some ugly confessions or accusations. LISTEN. If you've ever felt that darkness, share it and put it to rest. This could open doors. It could also open wounds. But if a discussion is started, it could also save lives.
Maybe even your own.
Now, to be clear, I am not necessarily endorsing this program or encouraging you all to drop everything and watch this with your kids.
I would encourage you, if you're a parent or grandparent, to watch it alone first if you're considering letting your child watch. But I would also remind you that kids are watching a lot of things these days that we might not be aware of at first, and that this show is very popular. It's being talked about among teens and pre-teens, and it's not a bad idea for you to know it's out there.
So... it's out there. It's scary, It's hard. It's worth a look.
A quick reminder: I am a teller of tales. Take my stories with a grain of salt, Or don't.
Lockers are tight.
Good night!
11:13 p.m.
Recently I viewed a Netflix series that has been generating a lot of conflicting interest. It is called "13 Reasons Why".
Produced by Selina Gomez and starring a young cast led by Dylan Minnette and Katherine Langford, it chronicles the thirteen reasons young Hannah Baker has decided to end her own life--reasons that are shared in a series of thirteen messages recorded on cassette tapes and circulated among the peers she considered influential in her decision making.
Each episode is a recording--tape one, side one, etc. Each episode is hard to take; and each one gets progressively harder.
I am a self professed binge-watcher, but I had to take breaks pretty frequently with this series, because it is harsh and it hits home on many counts. I made it through; I was fascinated, appalled, saddened, angered.
I can't really stop thinking about it.
And you know, maybe that was the point all along. Maybe that was why the book, by Jay Asher, got written in the first place, and why Selina Gomez wanted to bring it to life in this format. So people would see it and think, what could have been changed, and would that have saved her?
It's controversial. People are absolutely talking about it. I've read articles that claim the story "glamorizes" suicide. That wasn't my impression--the death itself is ugly and painful.
Honestly, though, people who consider it as an option glamorize death for themselves, I sometimes think. They see it as an out, an end to their own suffering, and may even consider that those they leave behind will be better for it.
I've been in that dark place: the place where you're sure that the world will be a better place if you're gone, that all the suffering will end for everyone, that it's the only choice that makes sense.
I believe what saved me is the fact that I have always been a teller of tales, the "what if?" girl.
See, I worked things through.
First I considered the "how". And I realized something: death is not pretty. No matter what you do, someone has to get in there and clean it up. Even pills, or gassing yourself in the car can lead to some potential nastiness for someone else to deal with.
No one deserves that job!
So, I figured, I'd have to come up with something clean and easy. But even if I did--and that's a huge if--and I was successful--then what?
I cannot leave a story unfinished. Even if it's awful, I have to fight my way to the end. And, Oh My God, there was no way to get to a happy ending. Yeah, I'm out of the picture. Yay, me. But what about my parents? They would be entirely blameless, of course. Still, they'd blame themselves; I know I would if it was my kid.
What about my kids? Who would raise them? Was I really going to leave them to be raised by someone who was NOT ME?
Nope. If they were gonna get damaged by a rotten parent, that rotten parent was going to have to be me. Plus, what would they end up thinking of me if I just checked out and left them behind? I'd feel guilty if I died a natural death and left them, let alone...you know.
Needless to say, my "what ifs" and "then whats" and all the other things that lead to the end of any story saved me from making a big mistake. There was no way to make a happy ending happen with my exit, no matter how much I might have believed that the world might be better off without me.
I stuck around. It wasn't always easy. But I'm glad I did.
That said, the story still sticks with me, because there's still a part of me that totally gets where that girl was coming from, and the darkness in her heart. I understand the fear that things won't ever get better. I understand the desire to just close your eyes and forget the whole damned thing.
I was blessed with a wonderful family. Thank God. Every day I am grateful for that.
But no matter what. we have a road we walk alone. Your terrific parents and siblings can't shield you from the entitled jackass who informs you gleefully that he whacks off every night thinking about your tits, and then gets pissed off because you "can't accept a compliment". They can't always be there when your classmates decide to spread rumors about you, or shove you in a locker and leave you in there for an entire class period. They can't keep you from marrying the wrong man or force you to get out of the marriage once you finally come to your senses and realize you're not where you should be.
Failures are things we suffer through alone. Certainly we may receive some sympathy, but ultimately, they are ours alone. School exams, relationships, jobs--those are our burdens and worries, our successes or failures, our triumphs or tragedies.
"13 Reasons Why" reminded me that not everyone is a teller of tales. Not everyone can get to the end of their own part of the story and then ask: "And then what happens?" I'm glad I could; I'm glad I did.
But what about those who can't? What about those who literally get to "And she slept forever", and believe that's the end of the story?
This is the reason I can't get the story out of my head, and the reason I think it might be useful for people to watch this series. The rest of the story needs to be known. In this, I do not mean the reasons one might have for considering suicide in the first place. I mean the story of "then what happens?
First of all, there's no "slipping away peacefully." Even those people who are so very sick have bodies that fight to stay alive as long as possible. No matter what, it's going to be a struggle. It's going to hurt, most likely. Even if you don't bleed, you're going to make some sort of mess of yourself--vomit, urine, feces. You will not look beautiful or peaceful. You will stink.
Someone will find you. There's a fifty-fifty chance that someone will be a person you loved, a person who loved you. Even if it's not, do you really, truly hate everyone so much that you would wish upon them the discovery of a body?
If you're out for revenge, you'll never know if it worked.
If you're out for sympathy, you'll never get to receive it.
People will be sad, people will be sorry, but no one will really understand. Some will be mad as hell, and you won't be around to defend yourself. Or to say you're sorry.
Worst of all, the things you think you'll make better by dropping out won't be changed at all, because you won't be here to change them. In truth, you will make it all worse.
You'll be remembered, but your memory will always bring pain, because your death was untimely, unnecessary and cruel.
Surely we all want to leave a nicer legacy.
Suicide is not a way out, easy or otherwise. It's not brave or noble, glamorous or romantic. It is selfish and reckless and FAR from easy on anyone.
I would agree that this program is not for everyone, and if you're going to let a young person view it, you should sit down and watch with them, Be prepared for questions and debates. Be prepared to hear some ugly confessions or accusations. LISTEN. If you've ever felt that darkness, share it and put it to rest. This could open doors. It could also open wounds. But if a discussion is started, it could also save lives.
Maybe even your own.
Now, to be clear, I am not necessarily endorsing this program or encouraging you all to drop everything and watch this with your kids.
I would encourage you, if you're a parent or grandparent, to watch it alone first if you're considering letting your child watch. But I would also remind you that kids are watching a lot of things these days that we might not be aware of at first, and that this show is very popular. It's being talked about among teens and pre-teens, and it's not a bad idea for you to know it's out there.
So... it's out there. It's scary, It's hard. It's worth a look.
A quick reminder: I am a teller of tales. Take my stories with a grain of salt, Or don't.
Lockers are tight.
Good night!
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