Speaking of Southern

I have seen so many movies with actors trying to mimic Southern accents who do its badly that I hang my head in shame, in embarrassment for them because they apparently don't know how bad they suck at saying thing's like "y'all" and dropping the "ing" from words.  As a Southerner myself, I think our accent is probably one of the easiest to fake.  After all, it's just a matter of speaking in a more relaxed way.  You can call it lazy if you want, we don't care.  Here are a few pointers for any of you out there who want to sound more like the locals when you visit places like Asheville NC or heaven forbid, Louise MS.

1. Speaking Southern requires a state of being that rejects concepts like traffic-jams, political arguments, standing in line for $7.00 coffee, or behaviors like tapping your foot at the cash register while the cashier sparks up some small talk with the person in line before you.  If you really want to sound like a Southerner, take a deep breath, clear your mind of all your sissy pants city-boy concerns, and imagine yourself instead, sitting on a front porch with hound-dogs underneath it as your uncle Clyde picks out a sweet gospel hymn on his guitar.  You can even imagine yourself with a cool glass of sweet-tea in your hand, if that helps.  The point is, anytime you want to feel more Southern and less like a jack-ass, take your mind to a happy, Southern place and then take action from there.

2. Onto the more technical aspects of enunciating the Southern way.  Folks from the hurried North seem to think that speaking Southern merely requires one to use improper grammar and say words that no one who lives above the West Virginia state line can define.  However, one of the key points to sounding more Southern has to do with  where you place the emphasis on any given word.  To demonstrate, I'll give a few examples.  Any word or phrase that is abbreviated, for instance TV, or CD, is pronounced with the emphasis on the FIRST syllable: "Honey, have you seen my Lynard Skynard SEE-D?"  Or: "Son, turn off that TEE-V and do your homework."  The same goes for words like:

Insurance--INsurance
Theater-THEE-ayter
Speedometer--SPEED-ometer
Magazine--MAG-azine
Peanut--PEA-nut
Pecan-PEE-Con

Hopefully by now, you get the point.  Just remember, emphasis!

3. I can't make this point clear enough.  You must, absolutely and without exception learn the proper use of the word "y'all."  Y'all is a Southern-grown contraction for the words "you all".  This means that when we say "y'all" we are talking about a group of people, not a single person.  Never, EVER refer to one single Southerner as "y'all". Just like you Up-North people, when we speak to a single person, the correct way to address them is with the word "you".  As in, "You fucked up my order, you dumb-ass Yankee, why don't you go back where you came from so you can understand the language."  Y'all is also sometimes a possessive pronoun. As in:  "Are them all y'all's junk cars sittin' in the yard?" Or, more commonly in my house, ya'll need to pick up y'all's toys before I break my neck tryin' to walk up the stairs."

4.  This one is optional, because some Southerners in recent years have begun to add the "ing" back onto words where it belongs.  However, many still do not, and if you want to sound authentically Southern, you'll need to lazy up your speech a little to achieve this.  There are some key words to which the "ing" are Southernly not necessary.  Here are just a few of those words:

Wedding-Weddin'
Getting-Gettin'
Fixing-Fixin'
Eating-Eatin'
Fornicating-Fuckin', sinnin' or goin' ta Hell....

You can probably figure out the rest on your own, but again, this point is less important than some of the others.

5.  The use of the word "I".  This seems to be the hardest one of all for Hollywood Yankees to figure out and I can't figure out why that is.  Here is the correct Southern pronunciation- "Ah"  here is the correct English pronunciation-"Ey".  We simply replace the longer sound of the "y" with a silent "h".  It's just lazy speech people!  Yeah, maybe we talk slower, but we are experts at shortening the words that we say so slowly, so it probably all balances out when you think about it.  "Ah'm goin' to the store to buy some 'maters.  y'ont some?"  Seems to me that takes a lot less time to say than, "Ey am going to the supermarket to buy some fresh tomatoes, would you like me to bring some back for you as well?"

5. We make up words to fit certain situations.  You won't know the meaning of these words until you've heard them a few times, but after you've gotten used to them, they'll make perfect sense. Just to be a stinker, I'm not going to tell you any of them.  It's too much fun watching you nod along as if you understand what we are saying to you, when in all actuality, we are probably making fun of you in the politest way possible.

6.  My last point brings me to this point, which is my last point.  Southerners often combine two words into one to make thinks simpler.  After all, we are all about living simpler lives.  Along with the word y'all, we employ words like "nem": As in, "When are Bobby-nem gon' get here?"  And "Yonto" as in "I'm going to go huntin' tomorrow, yonto?"  or "Ustacould"--"I ustacuould talk like a Yankee, but I can't do it n'more."  One of my personal favorites is "Backair"--"I can't find that toilet cleaner you said you put'n the closet!"
"Well, I know I put it backair!"
This one also applies to "upair", "downair, and "inair".

Although I doubt if any Northern born and bred Hollywood actors are going to stumble across my humble blog post, I hope that in some small way, I have helped someone--maybe even a Northern Transplant to the South figure out how to communicate more effectively with the locals.  Just remember, be careful how you use these terms and phrases, otherwise, you might insult the wrong guy by saying something like "I sure do wish I could get to know your wife a little better downair."

The key is practice, and to not sound like a Northern prick who is trying to make fun of the way we speak.  The truth is, we think you talk funny too.

The Text Trap

I'm horrible at verbal communication.  I'm not sure exactly why, but especially during emotionally charged situations, I find myself grasping for words to effectively communicate how I feel or what I'm thinking.  I find myself having "verbal" exchanges with people who aren't present, as I go about my daily business, wishing that in that conversation that already happened in real life, I could have thought of the thing I just said.

I suppose that's why, whenever I need to share something deeply emotional or confrontational, I find it much easier to write out my thoughts and feelings.  It seems to me that I make more sense that way--that whomever I am communicating with must surely be better able to understand my point of view if I am able to state it more clearly in black and white, rather that with blubbering emotion and my struggle for the exact "right" words.

Internet communication and text have not helped me learn verbal communication skills at all.  In fact, technology has turned me into an emotional coward when it comes to communicating with someone face to face.  The mere thought of having an extremely vulnerable conversation with someone face to face literally terrifies me. What if I say something the wrong way and they don't understand me?  What if they're better than me at this "talking" thing and I never succeed in getting my point across?  What if they say things to me that I can never un-hear?  Things that hurt me, and things that make me more emotional and more likely to make a fool of myself in front of them.

I realize now, the origins of the "Dear John" letter, the suicide note and the silent treatment.  They all come from a very deep and very real sense of insecurity.  Perhaps, sometimes guilt, when we know that what we have to say is going to be emotionally hurtful to the other person.  The problem, as I am realizing it now, is that in communicating in such a disconnected way, like text or email, just makes the other person feel as if you don't have enough respect for them to discuss your issues with them face to face. 

I'm understanding how unfair it is of me to hide behind the black and white of my computer screen or the tiny text bubbles on my iPhone.  It's wrong of me, to refuse to let someone I care about hear my voice when I tell them that my feelings are hurt, or that I'm unhappy with how our relationship is going.  It is inconsiderate of me to expect them to read and decipher through mere words on a page, how I'm feeling or what I am trying to emotionally communicate to them.

I have to make an important phone call to a business acquaintance soon.  The news I have to communicate isn't good news. I sat here at my computer a few minutes ago, pondering whether I should just email the news to her and let her deal with the facts.  The problem is, she's also my friend and I care about her very much.  I know that I need to sit down with her, look her in the eye and tell her the cold honest truth and then be there for her as we both try to figure out how to fix things.

She deserves more than a one-sided textual explanation of things.   I can think of a few people who needed and deserved more than that from me over the last few years, since text and email have come along to rescue me from my own social awkwardness.  I realize I still owe some people some conversations, or at least sincere words spoken from my heart--not presented as black and white factual information on a screen.  So what if I shed a tear or can't think of the perfect way to phrase what I need to say?  The point is, they'll know I cared enough to give them my time and my effort--that I faced my own fear of looking them in the eye and letting them see me for who I really am, instead of seeing me as a cold and calculating person who has to perfectly measure her words and type them out, instead of speaking from my heart.

Lord be with me, as I venture on this new way of relating to the world around me that will not involve text or email, or even blog posts that I secretly hope the "right person" will read.  I want to be more genuine, more available and yes, maybe even a little more vulnerable in my dealings with those I care about.  How can anyone feel comfortable opening up to me, when my emotional world to them, is nothing more that a boring tirade of black and white on an electronic screen?

I guess I have a few visits to make in the coming weeks.

Wish me luck.

Race, Gender and Sexuality...Is there anything else to talk about?

One thing about human beings will never change:  Our constant need to feel better than those people.  By that, I mean anyone different from us.  Nothing makes this point more obvious than the constant media barrage of stories about equality that merely succeed in creating more of a divide between people of all kinds.

Here's what is happening as a result of the incessant "news" stories about inequality:  We are all figuring out that no matter who we are, we are screwed.

Women, for instance, are screwed because we don't get equal pay as men for doing the same work.  We are objectified and victimized by men.  We are judged harshly for our choices concerning education, family and work.  Women are too fat, too skinny, not stylish enough, not sexually adventurous enough.  We are bitches or sluts or prudes.  We are gold diggers or  Welfare leeches.  The list goes on and on, and who is pointing out all these things to us that make us feel like crap about our place in the world?  Check your Facebook news feed and you'll get the answer to that question.

I realize that there are activists out there who honestly want to help create a world where everyone's worth is considered equal.  I applaud their efforts and encourage them to keep pursuing their passion.  We all need a purpose in life, and if yours is working your ass off on behalf of a certain group that is considered underprivileged, bless you.

What I'm referring to though, is the never-ending over-discussed and occasionally exaggerated media flood of articles, nightly news stories and internet "feel good" or "Shame on you" blurbs that constantly remind us, women, African Americans, immigrants, gays, etc...that we should feel angry and put down by the society in which we live.

Somewhere along the way divisiveness has become the norm, and acceptance has become an anomaly.  It seems like all we hear about is how we should be more accepting of others as fellow human beings, regardless of our differences, but at the same time, statistics are being crammed in our heads about the disparities between people of different races, genders, sexual orientations and economic status.  With our media constantly focusing on our differences, pointing them out to us and encouraging our wrath about how unfairly we are treated, it is no wonder hate, fear and intolerance take over, leaving people to  feel more animosity towards one another.  We are being convinced, one Upworthy video at a time, that everyone else is out to keep us down.

I'm certainly not saying that intolerance doesn't exist.  It absolutely does, it always has and it most likely always will because we are all human.  We all have our own personal belief systems that act as our moral compasses, guiding us towards what we feel is right or wrong.  The problem comes when we try to hand our compasses over to everyone else and make them follow our path, instead of giving them the freedom to follow their own.  The only way to conquer division is to stop perpetuating it by labeling one another as minorities, homosexuals, heterosexuals, blacks, whites, hispanics, heathens, bitches, whores, lazy, unintelligent, unworthy and classically, the Privileged American White Male.

"So I'm just a person like everyone else?  Oppression bubble: bursted.

We flock to stories of what we have come to believe are the rare acts of kindness and acceptance as if those things are the exception to society's norms.  However, every day in America people of all walks of life, with differing beliefs, lifestyles, genders and colors get up and go to work driving ambulances, working in hospitals, caring for the elderly, looking out for the welfare of children, helping the homeless, feeding the hungry and smiling at strangers who might be very different from them.  The act of acceptance and the feeling of equality doesn't come from knowing everyone's differences or even from celebrating those differences.  It comes from seeing people as what they are:  People.

So instead of so many stories about our "rights" and shameful memes about how unfairly some people treat others, lets hear more about how we can learn to treat one another with kindness.  Instead of judgmental tirades about who is wrong and who is right, lets hear more about who is making a positive difference in the world.

I, being a woman and considered a minority, am not interested in hearing more about why my body image is distorted by Hollywood.  I don't want to read more articles in women's magazines about how I need to keep my age a secret so I can still snag a man.  I don't want to be reminded that to some men, I am nothing more than an object--like an old couch they can use and then toss out on the curb when they're ready for a new one.  Likewise, I'll venture a guess that there are many gay people who don't feel great about being constantly reminded that their version of love and companionship is frowned upon by lots of folks.  There is something about all of us that isn't widely accepted in today's world, but constant reminders of our differences, placed in a negative light only serve to create more frustration, division and unrest within all of us.

Let's face it, we are, above all else human.  It seems to me, if we all strive to remember that and focus on what is the same about us all, equal treatment of everyone would become a more natural and less talked about phenomenon.

 And we'd have a lot fewer angry videos popping up on our Facebook pages.

Here's to being human.  Enjoy who you are, and respect the humanity of others.

Clutter

It is amazing to me how much junk one person can accumulate in a few years' time.  I very unintentionally took a less than quick trip down memory lane this evening, after I suddenly and uncontrollably got the urge to clean out my son's closet.  I say "closet" but it is more of a cave of sorts.  I suppose that's why, over the years as we have gotten more and more junk that we couldn't find a place for, it all ended up in the cave.

I found a dresser-in-a-box that I bought when I was pregnant with Charlie that never got assembled, because my belly was too big and kept getting in the way and his dad wasn't exactly a handy man.  I found old toys that belonged to my daughter whose cave this was before her brother was born.  I found broken glass and abandoned toys and even a stink bug.  Once it was completely cleaned out, I stood back in amazement at all the empty space.  I have been lamenting for years that this house simply doesn't have enough room for us.  I find myself frustrated when trying to keep things in their places and running out of places to keep things, and here, in his little room was a space big enough for all his toys, a bean-bag and a whole setup of his new Bat Cave Underground world where he is now happily playing, yes, my child is playing Batman in his enormous closet with plenty of breathing room.

This experience has made me realize that I have some serious work to do.  I have a hall closet that is packed to the brim, my daughter's closet is a nightmare and the laundry room...well, let's not even talk about that.  The truth is, when we moved here almost 11 years ago I was two years fresh off my divorce.  I had kept very little from my past life and the things we had were hand-me downs and second hand store deals.  We had just enough dishes, just enough furniture, just enough clothes and so much storage space we didn't know what to do with it all.  Over the years we have all acquired junk that we've, for whatever reason, refused to give up.  I have always thought myself to be great at getting rid of unwanted stuff that served no good purpose, but as I rummaged my son's closet and found crib bedding from 7 years ago and Barbie doll shoes from AGES ago, I realized I hadn't faced all my clutter nearly as well as I thought I had.

Tonight I ran across things that I'm sure at some point I had deemed useful for future purposes; now though, it  is just junk.  I found myself filling up garbage bags and boxes and sending them out to the curb.  Maybe someone will find some useful stuff out there, but honestly, I think the garbage man will probably just be pissed off at us for leaving all that crap for him to pick up.  The up side?  The clutter all gone from the closet now and from my conscience.  I no longer will walk into my son's room and avert my eyes from his closet for fear of facing my own inadequacies.  I will be able to look in that direction and see that I have finally faced my fear of attacking the clutter and I've managed to obliterate it.

I vacuumed up the remains of dust and debris and then neatly rearranged his things inside.  Even he was happier and more content that his mom had finally gotten her shit together and taken care of the mess she'd created.

I hate to turn everything into a metaphor for life, but it seems like over the last few years God has been teaching me things in the simplest and most unexpected ways.  Ever since the death of a very close friend, the loss of a job that same year and various other losses,  I have been stuck in some limbo-land of not really wanting to rummage through the debris those experiences have left behind in my life, both in physical form (the state of my house) and emotionally and mentally.  I find myself unwilling to pick through my own insecurities and hurts that linger, tucked away somewhere in that huge cave of a storage space somewhere in my psyche.  I have tended to look the other way when I see my own fears and insecurities.  I tend to try to clean out other people's "closets" instead of my own.  I focus on who I can help instead of confronting my own mental and emotional clutter.  I realize this has held me back in so many ways.

Has anyone ever called you up and said "I'll be at your house in ten minutes, can't wait to see you!" and you immediately scramble to pick up every sock, shoe, toy and dirty glass you can find and hide them in the first place you can find?  I have been known to throw dirty towels in the bathtub and close the shower door to hide my mountain of laundry because I am worried about what people will think if they see I've neglected washing clothes all week.  Hiding emotional clutter is no different really.  We are afraid of what people will think of us if they find out we still have old hurts and insecurities tucked away.  We think we keep these things for good reasons; So we'll know better next time or so we can go to that closet and draw from our past experiences so as not to repeat them.  Instead, what really happens is that closet we hide our emotional clutter in becomes a scary place that we start to avoid at all costs.  It becomes a whole bunch of experiences, hurts, fears and insecurities that we don't really want to keep and can't really find a good use for anymore, but for whatever reason, we just can't pack them up and set them on the curb to be carried away.

What we fail to realize is that by hiding these things away and not going through them, sorting them out, keeping what is useful and getting rid of what takes up valuable emotional space, we end up cutting ourselves off from the things we really want and need.  All our emotional real estate is taken up with useless stuff that we would be better off to let go of so we can make room for joy instead of hurt, trust instead of insecurity, faith instead of disappointment, love and companionship instead of isolation.

We begin to think peace with ourselves and our lives in unattainable because of all our past hurts and disappointments, most of which we hold onto so tightly, although we convince ourselves they are tucked away, out of sight, out of mind.  But the truth still exists that behind the doors of our private caves, those past experiences call to us, and remind us not to trust, not to hope, and to most of all, never forget what happened to us the last time we took a chance.

I've decided that I don't want to live among door after door of hidden clutter.  I want to sort through it all, experience those thoughts and emotions, whether they be joyful or unpleasant, and then do my best to neatly put them where they all belong.  I want to keep and cherish those things that make me a stronger, better person.  I want to box up all the pain, the disappointment and failures and lay them at the feet of God.  I know that even He, in His infinite mercy and grace will look at those things and merely see a bunch of junk that neither He nor I need to hang onto. He sees me as His child and knows I have no need, no space in my soul to harbor all those past hurts and disappointments. And I know that whatever wrongs, hurts, mistakes or heartaches I learn from by finally sorting through them and then giving them over to Him, He will deliver me from all those wounds that keep me from living my life to its fullest.

Spring is coming, and I'm hoping I can maintain the momentum to keep weeding out the things I don't need to hang onto, both in my heart, in my home, and in my relationships with others.

Do Nice Guys Really Finish Last?

I've heard this whine so many times it makes my head spin around on my shoulders like I'm possessed by evil spirits whenever someone says it to me now.  So many men think they have to be assholes if they want a woman in their lives because "Women don't like nice guys, they like jerks."  That one irks me too.

Here's how it happens (or at least here's how it has always played out in my life).  Woman meets man.  He is kind, thoughtful and considerate.  He volunteers (or so he says) he goes to church, he has 7 kids to raise by himself because his slut wife left him, his parents were abusive and he either has deep emotional scars that he needs Woman to help him heal, or he hates everyone in the world besides Woman...It all depends on the guy really, but that's the general scenario.  He wins Woman's affection, by being kind to her and/or telling her the horrifying tales of his past.  She thinks he's a sweet guy (meaning NICE) and decides to give him a chance, and things are great for a while.  THEN, he decides if he wants to keep her, he better start treating her like crap because women don't REALLY like nice guys.

The reality is, if you have this line of thinking, you are pretty self-absorbed and you probably aren't as much of a nice guy as you think you are.  How many women have you gotten involved with by being kind and thoughtful in the beginning?  Are you even aware that you morph into some other person after you've been with someone a while?  We don't fall for jerks.  We fall for men who we believe are GOOD men, and then they BECOME jerks.  What was that you said?  Women become Bitches?  Yes, we do at times.  Some women are bitches, just like some men are really jerks and nothing will change that.  But if you got involved with a woman you KNOW is a good person and she suddenly starts acting bitchy, it's probably something you said--or did or didn't do that you should have done.

I actually told a guy very recently that he was a nice guy.  He reacted as if I just called him an ugly name.  "I'm not a nice guy!" he said.  "Nice guys finish last and I'm not going to finish last."  That was the beginning of him becoming a jerk to me.  I stuck with him though, believing the best of him despite the evidence to the contrary.

Here's what women want: A companion.  That means someone to talk to, do things with, cuddle with, make love with, hang out and do nothing with.  We want someone who is on our side, who will stand with us through thick or thin.  We, just like you, want someone we find attractive yet not conceited.  Just so you know, when I say "someone we find attractive" that doesn't mean you have to look like Brad Pitt, but at least bathe, do something with your hair and wear something besides ragged T-shirts and jeans once in a while. Just as you don't like the idea of a fat woman, we don't like the idea of a fat man, but the difference is, if we truly love you, we will love you despite your imperfections and even if you are fat or get fat, we'll hang in there with you because we care about you.

Your nice-guys finish last mantra will always defeat you.  Every time you feel like you're starting to fall for a woman, you'll start acting like an asshole.  You might not even be aware that you're being an asshole, but you are.  You stop calling, you stop being considerate, you stop acting like you care, and then she catches on to your attitude and she changes how she behaves towards you.  She wants the "nice" you to come back, but the harder she tries to get back to the YOU she fell for, the less of that person you are, until finally she gives up and goes looking elsewhere for what she wants--and you think, "I knew it.  Nice guys always finish last."

Bob tripped over his enormous ego during the last leg of the race

On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have the "nice guy" who calls too much, expects too much of your time, and smothers the daylights out of you.  He seems like a nice guy, but his insecurity drives you crazy.  Love is not insecure.  It is confident because real love doesn't depend on the response you get from another person.  Love isn't knowing that someone else is always thinking about you or needing to be near you at all times.  Love is something you give without regard for what you get in return.  If you're obsessing over a woman, you aren't in love with  her. You are trying to soothe yourself by having her reassure you that you are loved.  You aren't being a "Nice Guy" showing his love, you're being a self-absorbed insecure BAD GUY.  Self-absorption will trip you up every time.

So, to all of you REAL nice guys out there who think you'll never find a good woman I say, check up on yourself before you blame women for "crapping on you" because you're nice.  Are you really a nice guy or do you just think you are because you're not getting what you want from life?  I have no doubt that there are really some nice men out there. I say that with a lot of hope and even a tad of faith because I've yet to meet any of you.  If I ever do meet a nice guy, I hope he'll be single and emotionally available as well, but to be quite honest, I'm growing weary of looking for you.

Be who you are.  Don't adjust your personality based on what you believe you have to do to hang onto someone. Who ever said life was a race anyway?  So what if you do "come in last?"  The point is to finish the race and to be at peace with who you are.  Life is a journey not a competition.  Try not to be a sore loser when things don't go your way, just keep your nice little head up and keep moving forward.  You'll finish the race in time, and even if you don't get there before all your friends, you'll be right where you're supposed to be, just when you're supposed to be there.

Here's to Nice Guys everywhere.  May you finish.

Back to Me

I got a new CD for Christmas.  It's a Neil Young CD, with lots of the songs that got me hooked on Neil to start with,a few years ago, and a couple I've never heard before.  It's strange how I have felt so out of my element lately, like I'm just feeling my way around, really unsure of what I should do next and even of who I am.  When I put the CD in my computer and settled down on my couch to relax I had no idea that his voice coming from these speakers would make me feel so at home in my own skin.

The first song I listened to was "Bad Fog of Loneliness".  It's a song I had forgotten about; but a song that truly describes me and the situation I'm in.  I listen to it and remember my resolve, only a few months ago, that I was meant for singleness and that I was determined to be at peace with my destiny.  I guess the loneliness got to me though--a bad fog of it that led me to make bad decisions for myself, like getting re-involved with a man that I knew couldn't, wouldn't and probably shouldn't love me.  I let myself get comfortable with his company instead of getting comfortable with my alone-ness.

After several days of not communicating with him at all, I struggle again with the pain of being forgotten--being used up and tossed aside again. Although I'm not surprised by it all, I am still sad and disappointed in him.  I remind myself that this is who he is: distant, cut-off from the world, emotionally, and sometimes, downright mean.  He's also the sweet man I came to love at some point, but in loving the sweetness of him, I must also accept the ugliness and love him despite it.  I must love him from a safe distance and never let him get a hold on me again.  It's not healthy for me or for him, the way things have been lately and I know we are both better off apart than we would be together if things must stay the way they've been lately.  I have no desire to hold him back and I don't intend to let him drag me down anymore.  I know I'm doing the right thing to keep my distance, but it is so hard to not reach out to him somehow.

It is my nature to want to keep the peace.  I almost always cave to the other person's wishes in order to avoid conflict.  This time though, I have to be strong and let this discord be.  I can't take any more insults from him: He doesn't even seem to realize how insulting he can be at times, perhaps because he doesn't understand that I value his opinion about things.  If you value someone else's point of view, it cuts into your soul when they criticize you or tell you you aren't good enough.  I know he's only one person in my world, who used to be in my world, but he's been pretty important to me.

I just keep praying that I will learn to love the way God intends for me to love.  I keep practicing the letting-go part of loving in hopes that it will eventually become natural to me to love without holding on too tightly.  I keep reminding myself that love is not something I do for myself, it is a gift I give to those God has blessed me with.  I shouldn't expect anything from anyone, I should just love.  I think if I ever get that right, everything else will likely fall into place and I will find the peace and contentment I crave.


I'm thankful for my new CD.  I'm happy about getting reacquainted with a part of myself that I have neglected for a long time--a part of myself that I really like.  Oh, and lest I forget, I'm thankful for Neil...maybe someday I'll get to hang out with him and we can swap stories.  Wouldn't that just be the coolest thing ever??  I think so.

The Life-Line

Today I stayed in bed for a long time.  I wasn't feeling particularly depressed, no more than usual anyway, I just couldn't find a reason to get up.  My boy was happily playing in his room and I had Netflix playing on my TV, but I wasn't really watching.  I dozed off a few times--lay there wishing I could just sleep, sleep, sleep, but sleep wouldn't really overtake me.  I was left with the sound of the TV, my thoughts drowning out the dialogue, making me wish for a panacea, a comfort of some kind that seemed unattainable.

I sat in my bed staring at the spot where the tube comes out of my abdomen.  It seemed unreal to me, that I was looking at my own body.  My eyes followed from where the tube exits my skin, across my abdomen to where it is taped to my other side to keep it up and out of the way.  I thought about the machine sitting by my bed, the clicking and ticking, the beeping of it all night long while I try to sleep, and I suddenly remembered:  This is how my life is supposed to be.

I spent a year of my life mourning what I came to understand I would never have again, but somewhere along the way, after spending so much time with him, I forgot how unreasonable it is of me to expect anyone to ever sign up  to join me in the struggle that is my life. I got so used to having his companionship that I came to depend on it, but I never should have.  It is unfair of me to ask anyone to be my companion, unfair to ask anyone to look at this tube in my belly every day or lie beside me at night while the machine hums at my bedside and I curl up in a ball of pain each time it empties my belly.  It is unreasonable of me to expect anyone to want me, with all the troubles I bring.

I know I'm not a bad person.  I know there are many who love me and show me their love at every opportunity.  I know that without my disease my life would be easier.  I know that if I had no children, I would be more appealing as a partner.  I'm not saying I would ever change the fact that I am a mom--in fact, my children are all I have.  I must believe that they are also all I need, since God gave them to me and made them a part of who I am.  I wish it weren't too much to ask that someone give me the kind of friendship I crave, but the truth is, it is too much to ask and it is selfish of me to expect it from anyone.

 It seemed so cruel to me the other day, when he said my illness didn't "earn me any points" with him.  It made me so hurt, so sad to hear those words from him--from someone whom I wanted to believe cared about me and understood that this disease is something over which I have no control.  I didn't abuse my body and cause this problem, it just is.  I've had it since long before I even knew it was ravaging my kidneys. It seemed so unfair of him to judge me so harshly for something I cannot change and would never wish upon myself in the first place.  When I put myself in his shoes though, I can understand his point of view.  When I look at me from where he stands, I see a terribly selfish person and I feel ashamed of myself for expecting anyone to take the kind of risk it would take to love me.  Who wants to sign up for a life of watching the person they love suffer through such an illness--always fearing that I'm about to die?  Who wants to go from not being responsible for anyone but himself, to feeling responsible for me and my child--even though in my eyes, I alone will always be responsible for caring for my family, even if I were in a relationship.

The way I see it, my kids are my joy, my responsibility, my pleasure to care for.  They are a joy and a responsibility which I never want to pass on to someone else.  However, I'm a sick person and someday, maybe sooner than I realize, I may not even be here to carry out my duty to them.

I'll never lie about it:  I do miss the friendship.  I miss the affection, the opportunity to call and have him answer.  I miss the laughter, someone to do things with, even the fact that we get on each other's nerves sometimes.  I miss it all, but I know it was never mine and I know that I am not meant to have it, not with him and not with anyone else.  This is just the way it is.  This is the life that was chosen for me, and this is yet another thing over which I have no control.

I don't know if I'm supposed to have another chance at life.  Maybe a transplant is in my future, maybe it isn't.  Maybe, just maybe, my life has already been lived and all there is left for me now is the waiting to die. It really seems that way right now, and not just because I'll never have a partner again.

I'm on the verge of losing my home.  I'm on my last week of Unemployment.  I have NO income after this week--last I checked, you can't really make it in this world without money.  I don't even have anything to offer my children besides my love, and love is frequently not enough to meet the needs of a growing child who needs clothing, food and shelter.

I am alone in this: and I am where I am supposed to be.  For me, it is merely a matter of acceptance at this point.  Maybe lying in bed all day is what I need for now.  Perhaps lying there, letting it all soak in, is the best thing for me.  I really don't know anymore, but it seems so pointless to do anything else when the only thing it seems there is left for me is waiting for this all to end.  

My gratefulness for those who truly love me is overwhelming.  I know people care, but no one will ever walk this path with me.  It is a harsh reality for me to accept.  It is a heart breaking realization to let my alone-ness sink-in.  I want to fight it, but I know that by fighting what I cannot change, I merely succeed in frustrating and hurting myself more.

So I am working hard on letting go of my hopes and dreams.  I am working hard to accept what God gives me with a grateful heart; working to release my hold on what I think I need and instead reach only for what God puts within my grasp.  I am praying that He will help me love others as they need to be loved, instead of seeking to have them love me the way I want to be loved.  I am trying to love without letting my own ego--my own agenda--get in the way.  I want to learn to love others in a way that brings them joy, even if doing so leaves me without the love I crave in return.  I'm trying to constantly remind myself that loving is a self-less act, not a thing I should do for someone else in order to get something in return.  I have decided to set my desires aside, set this man aside, and love him from a distance.  This is a true test of my own ability to love without concern for myself and it is not easy.  I can only accomplish this kind of love through prayer, for I have no strength of my own on which to stand for this task.  It is by God's grace alone that I can learn to love in this way.  It is only He who can heal my heart from this brokenness; only He who can rebuild my spirit into the kind of being that is able to reach out to others with love that is truly altruistic.  I want to give my heart without regard to self, while still doing what is right for me.  It is a lot like walking a tightrope strung from the highest mountain over a raging river filled with sharp rocks.  It is so frightening at times that I can't look down--only straight ahead, and keep putting one foot in front of another.  It is a balancing act consisting of holding on and letting go at the same time and at the end of this terrifying trip, I still have no idea where I will end up.

Just as this tube from my belly is the life-line for my Earthly being, this tightrope of self-less love is the life-line for my soul.  It is the only thing that keeps me moving forward, even in times when I am without hope.  It gives me something to reach for; it is my only path to renewal, it is my only chance at finding peace in this life.

"...The reason for living was to get ready to stay dead for a long time." -- Addie Bundren in Faulkner's As I Lay Dying.

The Most Depressing Christmas Song EVER

Every year, I hear it and every year I think, "I should look up the lyrics to this and really break it down."  "Maybe," I think," it isn't as gloomy as it sounds when you just pick out a few phrases here and there".  Well, today when I got home from picking up Charlie, I looked it up.  The song is called "Feed The World".  You've heard it, but you probably think it's called, "Do They Know It's Christmastime?"

Here are the lyrics and a break-down of why they suck and/or essentially make no sense.

"Do They Know It's Christmas" (Band Aid 20 version)

It's Christmastime
There's no need to be afraid--I strongly disagree with this statement.  Have y'all watched the news lately?  I know we don't live in a third world country, but come on?  I seriously am afraid every morning of the year when I drop my kid off at school because kids are getting shot at school all the time lately.  And need I mention robberies, rapes or murders that are plastered all over the headlines every day?  Oh wait, nobody's thinking of those because they're all worried Phil Robertson's opinion of black people and gay people is really going to have an impact on the world somehow....I digress.  Let's continue with the song.

At Christmastime
We let in light and we banish shade
And in our world of plenty
We can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world
At Christmastime

But say a prayer
Pray for the other ones--Oh, don't forget about the "other ones."  You know, those people who don't have enough food, water shelter--the basic stuff you take for granted every day because:
At Christmastime it's hard--But it's not so bad being poor the rest of the year.
But when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear--Wait, I thought there was no need to be afraid?  What's with all the dread and fear?  Come on, it's CHRISTMAS, y'all!
Where the only water flowing
Is the bitter sting of tears--Okay, since this song is about drought and famine in Africa, I'll give them that there's not much water flowing in the form of rain or rivers.  However, I doubt if there are THAT many tears.  I mean, can you really cry that much when you're really dehydrated?
And the Christmas bells that ring there
Are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you--I don't have time to Google it, but I'm not at all convinced that Christmas Bells are a common theme in Africa.  They actually aren't even that common anywhere anymore, but what the heck are "The Clanging Chimes of Doom?"  I wasn't a band geek, but I don't remember those in the percussion section at all.  Additionally, all I can say is, if you look at suffering people and say, "Thank God its them and not me!"  you're the biggest jerk in the world.  Really.  
And there won't be snow in Africa
This Christmastime--There won't be snow in South Carolina either, but we won't miss it.  I doubt if Africa will be very troubled by the lack of a white Christmas.
The greatest gift they'll get
This year is life--Duh, isn't that the greatest gift ANYONE can EVER get?
Where nothing ever grows
No rain nor rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmastime at all--Well, I'm not sure.  I suppose it would depend on whether or not they know about Christ, or believe in Christianity, or even CARE that it's a Christian holiday?  And seriously, when you're suffering, you're suffering.  Christmastime or not, suffering sucks.
Here's to you
Raise a glass for everyone--Seriously, don't you know there are thirsty people in Africa?  How insensitive.
Spare a thought this yuletide for the deprived
If the table was turned would you survive
Here's to them--Because toasting the poor with some bubbly really helps.  It helps a lot, folks.
Underneath that burning sun
You ain't gotta feel guilt just selfless--But your donation will mean so much more if you make it out of a guilt-laden heart filled with self-loathing and bitterness.  
Give a little help to the helpless--But not too much help, remember, "Give a man a fish..."
Do they know it's Christmastime at all

Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world.....etc....

(This song, performed by Band Aid 20, features Bono on vocals and can be found on the Do They Know It's Christmas 20 single)

Ah.  I feel better now because I'm sure this is a bad song.  It's just bad.  I hope they were at least able to raise a bunch of money with it though.  It would be a shame to waste all this awfulness on the world and not get any benefit from it.  I know it was meant for good, but really, for a Christmas song, it's just, well...bad.

Go Fund Me

Over the last couple of days I've received donations on my Go Fund Me site from people I don't really know.  It's sort of unsettling that so many people are reading my thoughts and getting to know me so personally--personally enough to want to send me money to help pay for a new kidney.  

I just want to say thanks to all of them, and to all the people who haven't been able to give financially but who have shared my story with others.  I'm so aware that many other people in the world are suffering and in need of help right now, therefore I am even more humbled and grateful for your thoughtfulness and generosity.

My life is a bumpy road right now.  Nearly everything is uncertain, from my living situation to whether or not the lights stay on next month....Will I get a transplant?  Will I find a job?  Will I forever be alone?

As human beings, we love certainty.  We love knowing our cars are going to start when we turn the keys, we love knowing the lights are going to come on when we flip a switch.  We take for granted that our hearts will keep beating and our organs will keep working until we have done all those things in life we want to do.  When everything is uncertain though, you are a like that white feather in the wind at the beginning of Forrest Gump.  Blown here and there, going with the flow, letting life happen to you to some degree, rather than making things happen.  It isn't that I'm not trying to make things happen, it's just that they aren't happening yet.  Sooner or later, I'll have to settle down though, right?  Maybe I'll figure some things out and be able to have something of a "normal" life--normal for me anyway.  Maybe someday, something will again be certain.

Maybe my disease is a gift.  Maybe it's a chance to start over again.  Right now it feels as if I'm loosing everything, but maybe I'm gaining things I can't see yet.  Maybe.  I can only hope.

We walked down the path, not touching one another, except for once in a while, when one of us (usually me) would get a little off balance.  The dog behaved well, we said hello to other walkers, moved out of the way of bicyclists, and once in a while we spoke.

There's always been heavy air around us wherever we are, even walking down a breezy fall pathway filled with color.  It's the heaviness of the unspoken but understood that, I think, makes us both kind of sad.  I mused at the bright yellow leaves that had been plastered to the asphalt by the rain, noticed some pretty purple wildflowers, which I pointed out to him, and tried to tease a little, to lighten the air.

The air is heaviest in bed, where we are lying so close, yet so very far away from each other, knowing the temporal nature of our comfort with one another.  Even with the heaviness though, we must both somehow justify the risk or we wouldn't be there.

It gets to me though...the heaviness, I suppose because I know the heaviness of loss so well.  I know that losing someone doesn't lighten your burden in life, it adds to it and I've had so much loss that it has become my biggest fear that I won't make it through another one.  What if the next one is the last straw and I lose my mind--end up in an institution playing with dolls and calling everyone I see "Naomi".  I knew someone who did that once.

I'm a smart girl.  I know stuff.  I know nothing about relationships, friendships, whatever, that are by design, temporary from the get-go.  Even at summer camp when you left, you promised to keep in touch with that best friend or that boy you met and kissed behind the pool when no one else was around.  Even then, when you knew you'd lose touch, in the time you spent together, you were together--you were a team--friends to the end!  So I don't get the "for now" attitude, unless you're the kind of person who doesn't emotionally attach to others.

And the thought of that makes me feel like the air is super heavy.  Hard to breathe even, to think of someone who is unable to attach to anyone at all on a meaningful level.  On a level where you want to give as much or more than you get from the other person, and on a level where you don't even want to think about the day when things change or end, or loss comes knocking at your door.  And it makes the air heavy because I'm afraid I'm the only person left who values such things anymore.  Surely someone is out there who thinks having a pair of arms to come home to is more valuable than the largest plasma TV you can buy for your living room, or a brand new truck, or...whatever...But he is sure hard to find if he exists--and isn't a psycho of some variety.

We walked back to the car faster than we walked away from it.  I could barely keep up and I felt embarrassed because of that, because I used to walk faster than him.  I kept up though and we made it back, hot and tired and a little irritable for some reason.  The dog was too excited, and we were arguing a little about another one of those insignificant things that's really meaningless in the long run.  Things settled down though, and we eventually made ourselves comfortable in the heaviness around us and made the most of the moments we shared.

To me, the heaviness is almost too much to carry, and to him, I don't think it's worth hanging onto.  So, I suppose we are both on the cusp of letting it go--the heaviness and each other.  It will be a relief to be rid of one burden, but with the other loss, comes a new burden of its own for me, and I hope I can bear it.