To My Children

When you are constantly faced by your own mortality you start to see the world differently.  You find yourself thinking about things that, for many people, never even enter the mind.  Like, "if I up and die in my sleep tonight, will my kids ever really know what they mean to me?" It was that very thought, in the wee hours of the night a few months ago, that urged me to get out my phone and type a message to them in my "notes" app.  I ran across it this morning and decided I should probably post it somewhere, because if I up and did in my sleep tonight, how will they ever see it if it stays in my phone? 

So here it is. 

To my children:

You are the reason I was born.

You're the reason I breathe, and from the day I held my first baby in my arms, my life had more meaning than I ever thought possible.

You taught me how to love.

You gave me the courage to open my heart, despite my fear that one day, you would end up hating me and breaking it.

You exceeded every expectation I had about raising children. 

You filled my life with laughter.

You taught me patience and determination.

You showed me the power of unconditional love. 

You taught me about God's love for me.

You showed me kindness with your crayons.

You gave me flowers to remind me that life is a beautiful gift.

You saved the prettiest rocks you found for me, because you thought I was so special. 

You snuggled up in bed with me to watch our special show every night.

You trusted me to be your referee, your hair stylist, your therapist, the villain to your super-hero. You came looking for me randomly throughout the day just to give me hugs. You told me you loved me just out of the blue.  You made even my worst days bearable.

You wanted my approval when you learned to ride your bike, when you played that one song you knew on your violin, when you climbed all the way to the top of the monkey bars by yourself.

I was important to you.

You were my reason for existing. You were my treasure. My joy. My heartache and the reason for many sleepless nights.

You tested my character with temper tantrums, with defiance, with your messy room.  You asked me the toughest questions and expected honest answers. You kept me on my toes.

Your hugs were little bits of sunshine, warming me from the inside out.

Wherever I went, whatever I did, you were always at the front of my mind. 

 

You hated it when I sang. You got embarrassed when I made a fuss over you in public. But you loved to giggle when I praised you for being able to put your pants on while standing on a giant marshmallow. We talked about our favorite super heroes, but I never told you my favorite hero was YOU.

You asked me where babies come from, and hotly debated the value of homework with me until 4th grade. You asked me for breakbast, and cried for me whenever I was out of your sight. You got angry when I said you were "little" and you sang to me from the backseat of the car all the time. We had "grown up" conversations almost from the time you said your first words, and you told me I was cool.

Your bright red hair was like a beacon. No matter how much you got passed around, I could always find your sweet, pudgy baby face in a crowd.  You loved baby dolls and Barbie dolls and playing dress up. You always said you were "mommy's girl" and had to sit by me wherever we went.  You let me braid your hair and call you silly names. You saved rocks for me, and brought me wild flowers from the yard. Crumbs followed you everywhere you went.  You told me I was your favorite person in the world! 

You trusted me with your secrets, your fears, your dreams.  You loved adventuring with me all day in the car.  You made me giant birthday cards and loved our picnic days.  You let me know when I let you down, but you always forgave me. You tried me over and over again to make sure I would always love you no matter what...

And I have always loved you insanely.  I've loved you unreasonably. I've loved you endlessly.  My love for you has exponentially layered itself over my heart, cushioning my spirit against every blow that tried to crush me and bring me to my knees.  You made me brave. You made me strong.  You made me into a woman.  You took away my childish narcissism, and made me learn to live outside myself.  You taught me what life is really all about, you gave me purpose.

You are the reason I exist. You are my gift to the world.  You will live on after me, and you will continue to bring meaning to every other life you touch.  You will live with abandon, you will learn from your mistakes, you will reach out to the underdog, because from the time you were in kindergarten, we have talked about the virtue if kindness.  You will be there for one another...the guru, fashion police, career counselor, homework helper, comic book convention partner.  You will invest in each other that part of me I leave behind in each of you, and you will bring meaning to the word "family."  

You are my heart and soul.  You are what my life was all about. You are the legacy I will leave behind. My life's work. My biggest success. My greatest reward.  You were the picture of God's grace towards me, for I could never have done anything to deserve such pure, trusting determined spirits giving me purpose and filling my heart with the kind of love I still struggle to explain. 

Believe in yourselves as I believe in you. Love one another as I have loved you. Forgive one another. Encourage one another. Protect each other, take care of each other.  Keep my love in your hearts always, and let me live on in the love you give away. 

Remember me with laughter. Cry a few tears if you must. We will miss each other so much, but we have hope.  And you always have me.  I will always be there. I'm part of who you are. Someday, you'll hear me in your own voice and know this is all true. 

Your mommy will live on forever in the things you do. 

I love you bunches and bunches.

Mom

The Toothache, The Mud Puddle and The Truth

Jon Brown was my first professor of Social Work.  He was a short man with thin white hair that neatly framed his round face so perfectly that he could have easily been a news anchor.  Instead, he stood humbly in front of our tiny classroom and talked about things like toothaches.

"When you have a toothache," he explained, "It's difficult to really care about someone else's toothache."

It's a metaphor that has stuck with me through the years.  It is one that I often have to remind myself of when, on days like today, I am struggling to find that place of empathy that I need to be in.  I'm overwhelmed with my own troubles and even though I know others around me are struggling too, I can't seem to really identify with them.

I feel out of place.  I've never been very comfortable with life when seemingly everything is in limbo.  Now though, everything is so unsettled that the word "limbo" falls far too short in describing the level of discord that I find swirling around me.  I wake up every morning in a bed that isn't mine beside a man who seems bewildered by the fact that I'm there.  What clothes I have with me are in a pile on top of a dresser in my son's room--or what we call his room for now.  I take a shower and carefully mark every movement I make to be sure that every item I use gets put back in exactly the same spot it came from.  I keep my cosmetics in a bag that I try to hide away in a cabinet when I'm done with them; it seems as though keeping myself as inconspicuous as possible has become my number one goal lately.  I try to be as invisible as possible, and yet I still end up feeling intrusive.  I've never felt so sick over a dish being left in the sink, or about using too many towels or wearing too many shirts in one week.  I try so hard to keep everything exactly as it would be if I weren't even there, but the reality is, I am there and it's nigh unto impossible to hide myself away so completely that there isn't a sign of my existence anywhere, even when I'm away.  I find a necklace of mine lying on the bathroom sink and I scold myself for not hiding it away with my other things.  I realize I've been leaving my toothbrush out--I hadn't meant to do that.  I try so hard to not leave my things in sight, but inevitably I forget something, and there I am, glaring up at him from the coffee table in the form of a pen or a hair clip or a scribbled note.

I suppose it would be easy to mistake my inner turmoil for a lack of gratefulness, but that isn't it at all.  If anything, it's my gratitude that seems to be holing me hostage.  After so many years of opening my door, my heart and my home to other people, I'm finding myself on the other side of the fence and I'm really not sure what to make of it. On a certain level I feel like a pathetic loser--someone who couldn't even manage the very basic task of keeping a stable roof over her head.  On the other hand, I feel so cared for.  It's hard for me to accept such a conflicting view of myself, but I am both these things and lately, nothing more.

I guess I'm in what Jon Brown would have called "The Mud Puddle."  It's when you find yourself at a low place in life and instead of just jumping up and brushing yourself off, you feel the  need to just sit there a while in the mud getting thoroughly marred up in it until you can't even see where you end and the puddle begins.  I wish I could be invisibly camouflaged in my puddle of failure and confusion, but no matter how hard I try to disappear, I keep getting found out.

The truth is, change is hard for everyone.  I know my son is struggling with the newness in our world.  I know my presence and his presence have created an upheaval around the house where once a man and a dog peacefully co-existed in their perfect little world together.  In my head I know that I'm not the only one who is feeling the challenge of adapting to change, but it isn't always easy to look past my own struggle and appreciate the struggles of those I love.

The truth, is that change is never easy.  Loss is never simple, and learning to be at peace with a world that seems to not want you in it can feel damn near impossible.  The truth is that accepting your inadequacies, realizing that your presence doesn't necessarily make anyone's life particularly better, learning that dutiful friendship often trumps true affection and incorporating all those harsh realities into who you're becoming is discouraging, daunting and truly overwhelming at times.

The truth is, toothaches and mud puddles are not very helpful in the process of moving forward; but they sure do seem like convenient explanations when you can't figure out what to do or how to feel or where to go next.

The truth:  I don't really belong anywhere and until I do, I'm afraid I'm never going to find that feeling of home again.

In The News

Once in a while I get the urge to rant a little about stuff I keep reading in the news.  Lately a few scenarios concerning parents and children seem to keep replaying themselves in the headlines.  First of all, the seemingly more common phenomenon of parents who "forget" they have a kid in the back seat of their cars and go in to work all day without ever having that "oh crap!" moment of realizing they forgot to drop the little one off at daycare.  Secondly, the ever-growing problem of DSS (and other similar agencies in other states) overstepping their bounds in some cases while completely dropping the ball in others.  It seems to me that in both cases, most people are quick to find a stance, either condemning or defending the actions of the parents involved.  The problem that I see in the responses of most folks is their lack of consideration for the reasons behind the actions of parents, which in nearly every case are different.  We can't really come to solid conclusions on whether or not a parent was neglectful unless we know the motivation behind their actions in every circumstance.

Everyone knows the story of Justin Harris, the Georgia dad who left his son Cooper in his hot car all day while he worked and everyone remembers the first time a story like this hit the headlines a few years ago.  On some level, every parent can identify with this happening.  We all know how hectic the our mornings can get and how easy it is to operate on auto-pilot sometimes.  Some would even argue that the simple change in routine, from mom dropping the baby off at daycare, to dad dropping the baby off just that one time, is enough to throw a parent off track.  We have all driven down the road with our minds somewhere else while a little one sleeps, oblivious to our worries, in the back seat.  I remember after I had Charlie, it had been so long since we had a baby around that I actually dropped off my two daughters a couple of mornings and headed to work without dropping the him off with the sitter.  I didn't get far though, before a thought of my sweet baby popped into my head and I turned back towards Maria's house to drop him off.  So, yeah, I can sympathize with a parent who drives all the way to work with a baby in the back seat.  I can even understand up to the point that mom or dad gets out of the car and starts to walk in to the building.  What I don't get, is how anyone can go for 8 hours or more without remembering their kid is still sitting in the car.  In Justin Harris' case, we can be pretty sure Cooper wasn't exactly forgotten.  His dad went to the car at lunchtime to leave something in the seat.  How would he not have noticed the baby then?  Harris seems to be a father who was feeling trapped in his marriage, sexting other women all day while his wife worked and his little boy died a torturous death just outside his office in the family car.

What the hell is wrong with our country when we are so stressed, over-stimulated and distracted that some parents legitimately FORGET they have kids in the car with them and work all day without ever remembering that they didn't drop off the baby at daycare?   Is technology to blame?  Are we so busy texting, checking Facebook, Tweeting and returning phone calls that we have forgotten what is really important?  Are our jobs so stressful and all-consuming that for the whole 8 hours we are at work every day, we don't have a second to think of anything else?  The nation has so identified with these parents that our outpouring of sympathy and support for them has seemingly lead to a whole other group of people who decide, for whatever reason, they need to get rid of their child and that leaving them in a hot car is the best way to go about the task.  They see other parents getting support from the public and getting little to no legal consequences, so why wouldn't they think the hot car method is a good idea?

Last week there was a local story about a man who left his infant in the car at a Goodwill here in Greenville.  He apparently went back to his car after going into the store and tried to pretend the baby was missing, but a Goodwill employee heard the baby crying from inside the car and called the dad on his BS.  The dad handed the hot, sweaty vomit-covered baby to the Goodwill employee and someone called the police.  Now it seems like we are hearing variations of this story every few days from somewhere in the country.

My point is, whether it is done on purpose or not, any parent who leaves a child in a hot car all day from this point forward needs to face some pretty stiff consequences.  Lots of parents make mistakes every day--some of them neglectful in nature.  Most, as attested by the many DSS stories in the news, get punished for those mistakes whether or not the parents had malicious intent.  I think the best way to stop the hot car deaths of children is to hold parents responsible.  Seriously, you have children now and it's your job to remember to take care of them.  What if I didn't feed my child all week because I was just so busy and distracted by life that I forgot?  I see no difference in the two scenarios.  They are both self-absorbed, neglectful behaviors that end up harming the little ones who are counting on us to care for them.  Maybe I'm being to rigid in my beliefs here, but I think it's pretty pathetic when we have to come up with inventions like a rope across the door of our cars to remind us that we have a child in the back seat when remembering our children should be first and foremost on our minds in the first place.  It's sad to me that we live in a world with such mixed up priorities and technologically distracted parents who are so stressed out by their jobs that they forget the very reason they work so hard.

In another story today I read about a Georgia mom who was arrested because she left her 9 year old daughter to play alone at a park all day while she was at work.  At face value, it looks pretty irresponsible, but the rest of the story makes it a little easier to empathize with this mom.  First of all, she works at McDonald's.  The same McDonald's that is directly in front of the park where her daughter plays.  The child said that she goes to McDonald's for lunch--the same McDonald's where her mom works.  She had previously been going to work with her mom and playing on an iPad all day, but the iPad broke and mom couldn't afford to replace it.  The kid begged mom to let her play at the park during the day instead of sitting bored out of her mind in McDonald's while her mom worked.

Maybe this mom made a poor decision, but the way I see it, more of the blame for her situation lies with McDonald's than it does with the family.  McDonald's is one of the lowest paying employers in the country, despite their massive profits and super-wealthy executives, their employers rarely make a liveable wage.  Some have cried that daycare is too expensive, that there's no excuse for leaving  9 year old alone in a park all day, or that the mom could have gotten public assistance to pay for daycare, but I see very few who will speak out and place the blame squarely where it belongs:  On the company who doesn't pay a single mom enough to protect and care for her child.  Now DSS has the 9 year old child and who knows what kind of foster home she will end up in while they make her mother prove she is worthy enough to raise her.  This is a mom who works and tries to provide for her kid.  She didn't "forget" her in a hot car.  I understand the stress of not being able to find a baby sitter.  I know the struggle of trying to bring a kid to work with me every day.  I remember what it was like when my girls were 9 years old and constantly trying to convince me they didn't need to be looked after all the time anymore. I'm not saying that this mom did the safest thing, but I am saying I identify with her the way many people identify with the parents who have forgotten their babies in the car all day.  I believe she was doing the best she knew how to do considering her circumstances.  So where is the public outcry of support for this mother who made the unfortunate mistake of thinking her daughter was safe and happy playing at a park all day instead of staring at the walls in a McDonald's all day?  If she had left her kid in the car all day--forbade her to get out and let her suffer in the heat, would the public be rallying around her for forgetting her kid for 8 hours?

Meanwhile in a situation close to me, I am witnessing DSS take a completely irresponsible stance concerning an autistic child who needs placement in a safe environment.  He was being raised by his grandmother, who after testing positive for methamphetamine, temporarily lost custody.  DSS always looks for a family member first, who can take a child who is being removed from it's custodial parents. In this case, there are no family members who are healthy and physically able to give him the kind of care he needs, yet DSS has guilted a family member who is physically ill to care for him by telling her that "There's no one else."  It is their JOB to make sure there is proper placement for this child, but they insist that he must stay with a grand-aunt who is sick and physically over-stressed already from caring for her aging parents.  This child needs placement in a home with physically capable adults who have the time and ability to give him the care and attention he deserves.  The main concern of DSS is that they don't have to work hard to appropriately place him with the right family until his grandmother can prove to them that she is capable of staying clean and taking good care of him.  I for one, am sick and tired of hearing about how understaffed and under budgeted our state's DSS is.  I'm tired of reading stories about kids who were taken from dirty houses, and turning the next page to see that another child died because DSS refused to take action on a report of abuse.  As it stands now in SC, DSS only takes seriously the accusations of abuse made by health or mental health professionals, and teachers.  If you call them about someone you know who is abusing a child, they will take your report, but in all likelihood, they will never follow up.  They say they are not staffed well enough to investigate every complaint, while Nikki Haley encourages them to avoid recording information on certain cases in order to make our state's statistics look as though they've improved under her leadership.  We are really in trouble as a state, when our one agency that is supposed to help look out for the safety and rights of our children has been corrupted from the very top.

I know my opinions probably differ a lot from the generally accepted points of view out there, but I've been mulling these thoughts over in my head for days now, and these are the only rational responses I have for any of the current headlines.  I'd love to know what everyone else things about these things, so feel free to comment if you have something to add.

Catching up

Sometimes I get angry if I think too much about all the people I know in my own family and otherwise who, over the years, have shown gross disregard for my father's kindness and generosity.  My dad has always been a kind-hearted man.  He never forgot what growing up in a large poor family taught him about life and he let those lessons guide him throughout his.  I can't even recall how many "stray" kids he allowed to live under our roof with us as we grew up in our own big family with limited means.  One thing my dad always had enough of was love and acceptance.  A lot of folks came to admire and appreciate him for his big heart and kind nature, but there was also no shortage of ungrateful leeches who took advantage of him without ever looking back.

It isn't easy to stay silent when you see someone you really care about being mistreated. If I think for too long about those people who took more from my father than he ever offered or could afford to give, I get tempted to pick up the phone and make a few calls.  I want to tell them they're jerks and I hope their misdeeds come back to haunt them but I know that my anger will never be enough to right the wrongs that were done.  I believe my father thinks about all of those people who took from him unfairly too, but he knows it is too late to go back and change anything.

Right now I'm finding myself in a tight spot with someone I really love a lot.  I feel as though I am walking on a tightrope, wanting to do things differently than my dad did them because I don't want to look back at myself and feel the indignation that takes me over when I think of the injustices done to him; however, it is extremely important to me that I preserve the relationship that is being tested.  Part of the problem is, I don't see myself as I see my father.  He has always held a place of reverence in my heart and mind.  I have a hard time seeing his imperfections and I'm often tempted to put him on a pedestal.  I know he wouldn't want that, which makes him seem even more perfect to me.  I am far from perfect.  I see my faults above all else and I struggle to remind myself that I should be respected and treated with the same kindness and positive regard that I give to others.

Probably the the toughest struggle in all of this is the seemingly impossible task of handling this situation in a way that satisfies all the people in my life who are telling me to stand up for myself and stop letting the other person take advantage of me.  My sister, my daughter, my friends all speak to me in frustration, with anger welling up inside them so intensely that I can't help but feel like I am letting them down just by being who I am.

Difficult conversations aren't my specialty.  People who know me and want to push my limitations know this and they tend to take advantage of it.  I shut down when I am cornered and right now I feel like a kindergartener with her nose pressed firmly against the square edge of a wall.  The only way out of this is to turn myself around and speak up.

I love my dad, but I don't want to end up sitting alone with the thoughts of how I should have looked after my own resources in a more self-preservative manner.  I don't want the people who love me to lose respect for me because they think I lack respect for myself.  I don't want the people who are treating me poorly to ever feel that their behavior is justified.  I know that by not speaking up, I'm sending the message that they can do as they please and I will just lie down and be their doormat as they come and go, but that's not the reality and it is not the message I want to send.

So I've spoken up for myself today.  I've said things I needed to say and there's probably still more I need to communicate before this is all resolved.  I know I can't control how another person chooses to react to my truth and I have to accept that by sharing it, I might alienate someone I care about very much.

Maybe this person will decide she doesn't want me to be a part of her world anymore, but she can't decide to make me stop loving her.  I might be some woman in the shadows of her life but I will be here.  She might never come looking for me again, but I will always be watching out for her, even if all I can give her are my prayers.

As hard as this experience is, I keep reminding myself that trials between people who care about one another can make their bond even stronger in the end.  I am realizing that I am not preserving anything by throwing away my own need to receive the same regard I give to others.  I'm praying for the strength and courage to plant my feet firmly on this principle.  I'm hoping for the power to believe in myself, even though it seems like everyone else is losing faith in me.

I can do this.  Even with everything else that is weighing so heavily on my mind, I know I have the strength to do what's right in this situation.  I know I have to find the strength to accept the consequences that follow.  I know I'm no good to anyone if I don't take care of myself first.

These lessons have been difficult for me to learn but my mind knows the truth, even if my heart has yet to catch up.

A Little Slice of Summer

Yesterday I went on an adventure of sorts up a long, winding, rocky mountain trail that tested my strength with every clomp and squeak of my crutches as I pulled myself along.  I followed behind, not even able to keep up with the dogs who were excited and ready to run.  They meandered on and off the path, smelling everything, peeing on anything they liked.  They were too impatient for us humans, two of which, with their strong legs, took everything in stride, barely breaking a sweat as they led the way before me.  Once in a while they stopped and patiently waited for me to catch up.  I'm sure they doubted me.  They second guessed our decision to trek down to the river via that particular path, but I was determined to make it all the way, even if I had to crawl at some point.

"It's about a quarter of a mile." He said just as we started out.

"Are there hills?  Because hills are what worry me with these crutches." I said.

"No," he assured me, it's not hilly."

After we walked about a quarter of a mile we stopped for a second to give my underarms a break from the crutches rubbing against my bare skin.

"It's a little farther than I thought." He admitted.

I rolled my eyes, and sighed heavily.  "So how far is it then?"

"About another quarter of a mile." He grinned.

We started off again.  I tried my best to keep up, but they still, in their wholeness, left me behind. Eventually they got tired of waiting for me, and with the swimming hole ahead, were anxious to dive in.

"Let me carry you," he said.  I protested at first, feeling guilty for being broken, for slowing us down and making even the most pleasant, peaceful of activities more difficult than it needed to be.

Having none of my protests, he made me wear his heavy backpack, then slung me over his shoulders like a wounded soldier.  He carried me, my crutches and the backpack as if we weighed hardly anything.  As I hung on tightly, we had a light conversation, as if two people in such a position making their way
up a mountain path toward the river were perfectly normal.  He carried me a good distance, though once my right leg started to tingle from lack of blood-flow he stopped and set me down on my good leg.  He handed my crutches back to me and I again started my clomp, squeak, clomp back up the trail through rocks and horse poop, weeds and brambles, trying my best to keep up but still falling behind.

My boy walked between us, a yellow bag full of snacks and sodas weighing him down.  He tossed it over one shoulder, then the other, now and then complaining that it was cutting into his skin. I tried to carry it and continue on my crutches, but I was scolded for that.

He took the bag from me and carried it for my boy for a few minutes before declaring that he needed to carry me again.  That time, he left the backpack on and lifted me over his shoulders once more.  The forest was more dense, and the wide pathway we started out on had narrowed to a mere foot trail, meant to be walked single file, every man for himself.  With the boy trailing behind us, he heaved forward uphill, down hill, through thick brush and slanted ground until finally, a clearing.

"I hope you'll think it was worth this once we get there" He said just before we noticed the river within view. He took me into the clearing and set me down on my good leg again.  We threw our stuff down on a mound of dirt and moss and he stripped down to his ragged cut offs and jumped into the river.  I helped my boy get out of his clothes. In nothing but his underwear he took off without hesitation, which for some reason, took me by surprise.

Before I knew it, the boy was out in the middle of the river, stomping away on the rocks, splashing himself and laughing at the swimming dog.

I made my way down to the riverbank, but with only one good leg, I felt I could go no further.  The thick, black river mud was ready to swallow my crutches, should I try to use them to get to the one rock that was close by.  So I stood there for a while, feeling happy, enjoying the beautiful river, watching them play, but feeling kind of left out as well.

After a few minutes, I finally weakened and asked him to help me get onto the rock.  The rock I had in mind was only a couple of steps away, partially covered in mud, and so far out of the water I would have only been able to stick a toe in.

He lifted me over his shoulders again and waded out onto the slippery river bed. I protested a little when he started carrying me so far. I was afraid he would slip and fall.  But he was steady and confident, telling me to stop talking as he set me down slow and easy on a large rock.  "Just ease yourself down right here," he commanded.  So that's what I did.

Fully dressed, I sat down on the big rock and slid myself across it to a spot where I could sit and hang my legs over into the cold water.  I let the current flow against my feet as I sucked in a deep gulp of fresh mountain air and let my eyes take in the beauty that surrounded me.  Poised on my rock I could see up-river, where it forked off in different directions. There were rocks lying just below the surface of the water where my boy ran around picking up smaller stones and tossing them into the deeper water.  The dog swam relentlessly, needing an occasional reminder to stop and take a break.

He jumped in again too.  Just jumped right off the rock ledge into water so deep that it swallowed him up. He swam with the dog and tried to get my boy to join him in the deeper part, but my boy isn't always trusting of others.

"This," I thought to myself, "is the sweetest taste of summer I've had in a very long time." And I sat there on that rock, my broken leg dangling in the water, the tube in my belly safely in the dry, for a long time.  I took in the sounds of strange birds chirping around me, the crackling fire by the riverside, the sound of my boy laughing and making up stories as he played.  I felt the breeze blowing down the river, sweeping my sweaty hair back from my face, brushed my hand across the rocks, felt the familiar slime of the river bottom beneath my toes. I felt the sun baking my skin on one side, shivered as the dog shook beside me, showering my back in cold mountain water.  I breathed in the smell of river mud and campfire smoke and for that brief bit of time, I felt a lot like the old me.

I've been missing the old me lately, grieving her even.  Life sometimes gets so messy that you can lose yourself among its clutter if you aren't careful.  There in the middle of the river, I was surrounded by peacefulness. The whisper of leaves blowing in the wind replacing the sound of shuffling papers. Instead of filling out forms and researching options, I sat quietly with myself, trying to figure out a way to keep my Diet Coke from floating away.  Instead of propping my leg on pillows, staring at a TV or computer screen, I propped my feet on the rocks and watched my son play.  The worries of my usual day were so far away from me that even if I had thought of them, I wouldn't have believed them to be true.

I knew it wouldn't last forever, yet even with the difficult trek back to the car on my mind I had no regrets.  I spent my afternoon in the most perfect spot imaginable, although it did take a lot of work for everyone to get there.

Once out of the river, we dried ourselves a little by the fire and ate our snacks.  It's funny how the water makes you so hungry.  Then we set out back down the trail to the car.  Again it was work, with me struggling to keep my rhythm with crutches, allowing him to carry me for a while here and there, but we made it to the car in what seemed like no time at all.  The evening was settling upon us as the breeze around us cooled and the sun hid behind the canopy of trees all around us.  We drove home with the windows down, not quite ready to close ourselves off from nature completely.  With our bellies growling and the worn out dogs sleeping in the back seat, we made our way back home feeling a little lighter than we did before we left.

Because sometimes all you need is a little slice of summer to remind you that life is really, really good.

Stay Positive: Good Advice or Unrealistic Expectations?

Rosa, from Orange Is The New Black on Netflix

I like the Netflix show, Orange is the New Black.  I just finished watching the second season in which the story of Rosa, a seasoned prison inmate who is battling terminal cancer is revealed.  You learn that in her youth, Rosa was obsessed with money and the adrenaline rush of robbing banks. The jolt you get when a flashback of Rosa's youthful adventures fades back into present
time, showing her bald head and aged skin is most unsettling.  One scene in particular that struck me was when the Prison Counselor, Mr. Healy is sitting at his desk explaining to Rosa that the state will not pay for the cancer treatment she needs to stay alive. He follows that up with a speech about the importance of staying positive, and a comparison to someone in his family who seemingly beat cancer with nothing more than a pleasant attitude.  Rosa isn't buying it.  She heard what her doctor said loud and clear, that without that particular treatment, she was a goner.  I identified with her so much in her response to Mr. Healy's well intended pep talk.  She remains outwardly angry, but you can see the grief in her eyes and she accepts her diagnosis and refuses to grapple for the false hope that Healy is dangling in front of her.  He is visibly uncomfortable with Rosa's resignation, as many people in our lives are when we don't jump on the "positive attitude" bandwagon and stay there perpetually.

Of all the pieces of unsolicited advice we ESRD patients get from everyone, from family members to perfect strangers, "You have to stay positive." is probably the most heard and most frustrating one.

Often, we feel pressured to smile and pretend that everything is fine so we don't make the people around us sad or uncomfortable, but on the inside we are dealing with a stark reality.  We are chronically ill.  There is no cure for what we have. There are only ways to manage and buy time, and none of our options are particularly bright and cheery.  On the outside we may look as healthy as the next person.  Nobody knows about the tube taped up to your side underneath your clothes unless you show it to them. Nobody notices the access in your arm unless you choose to wear short sleeves so they can see it.  Those people aren't there at night when you hook yourself up to a machine, and they aren't with you three days a week at the clinic while you get your blood clean. Our hair doesn't fall out, we don't have to endure the nausea and discomfort of chemotherapy, so how bad can it be?  We often feel the need to play along with the expectations of other people in order to keep them from showing pity for us, or to keep them from worrying about us.  They need us to stay positive.  They are asking us to stay positive, because they can't handle us when we are realistic about where we are and what we're dealing with.

So I am wondering if "Stay Positive" is really a great piece of advice that through a mind-body connection leads to better outcomes for ESRD patients, or is it an unrealistic expectation placed on us by the people in our lives who aren't able to cope with our illness.

There's certainly something to be said for a positive attitude. It motivates you to keep working towards a happy life.  It helps you cope with difficult days and it keeps you connected to people in more fulfilling ways. However, I think it is truly unrealistic and even unfair to demand that someone who is dealing with the pressures of this disease or any other life-threatening illness remain in a positive state of mind at all times.  Part of processing the loss of health from chronic illness is finally coming to an attitude of acceptance.  Perpetual hopefulness requires a certain level of denial to maintain.  At some point, if we are to assimilate our losses and find peace with our lot in life, we have to acknowledge and accept what is happening to us.  Without that acceptance we will remain stuck, our personal growth will be stunted and we may miss out on a very important part of who we are supposed to be and what we are supposed to learn from life.

The reality is we will not be cured. We will not go into remission.  We will be coping with ESRD for the rest of our lives.  We will either be slaves to the dialysis machine or we will be transplanted with kidneys that might or might not last.  We will be swallowing hand fulls of pills just to stay alive, we will suffer the side effects and financial blows that the cost of maintaining life imposes upon us.  The reality looks pretty grim, and if it's your reality, you can only refuse to look at it for so long before the ugliness of it catches up with you.

We shouldn't feel bad about not being able to maintain a positive attitude all the time.  We shouldn't stuff down our thoughts and emotions to protect the people around us who can't or won't come to terms with what we are facing.  We can feel down sometimes.  We deserve the opportunity to grieve for the lives we used to have and to grieve for a future that seems fraught with stress and struggle instead of whatever we had always planned.  We need the space to make the transition from healthy to sick in our own way and in our own time-frame and we don't deserve the admonition to be positive every time we express a negative thought.

There is  often a fine line between dealing with reality and allowing yourself to fall into the trap of self-pity.  Staying in a place of sorrow and pity for yourself is no better than walking around with a fake smile plastered on your lips.  Either extreme robs you of authenticity. If you are perpetually positive, you may be unable to accept and process the negative effects of your disease, if you are perpetually depressed and full of self-pity, you will never learn to value and live in each moment you are given.

We need to give ourselves permission to feel our pain, our sorrow and even our hopefulness.  We need those who love us to understand what a complex process we are going through, and that it wouldn't even be healthy for us to never have a day when we aren't discouraged by it.  We are human and often our weaknesses and fears catch up with us, even when we are trying our best to keep a positive attitude towards life and our disease process. We don't want this for ourselves, and we don't want to put you through it with us, but it is what we have, so give us the freedom to experience it wholly in all its negative and positive ways.  Let us grow through it and with it, as you try to accept us even on days when we can't take your advice.

Maybe you're wondering now, "If I can't tell you to stay positive, what can I say when you're down?" And the best answer I can give you is to just be there with us.  Acknowledge with us how crappy things really are.  Let us be who we are in each moment, allow us to feel our emotions without judgement.  Don't shame us for the days or weeks or even months when we feel buried by the stress of a life with ESRD.  Just stand with us, give us permission to be.  Remind us that you love us no matter what.  Give us permission to grieve both aloud and in private.  This is our experience. It is our chance to grow, to become something new and better, but we will never achieve that if we aren't allowed the chance to process the feelings that well up inside us.

And perhaps during those times when we can't find anything to feel hopeful about, you can take up the slack and feel hopeful for us until we make it over the next hump and find our own place of peace and hopefulness once more.

What NOT to Say to Someone Who is Struggling

I went to see my therapist today.  She's a social worker, and in my opinion, social workers are much better than "therapists" at listening to people, empathizing with them, and helping them find their own way through their troubles.  I don't need someone to listen to me and diagnose me or give me pills to fix what ails me.  I just need someone around who will give me permission to feel what I feel without trying to judge me or talk me out of it.

One thing that came out of our conversation was my complete lack of patience with other people lately.  I talked to her about all the things people say about me and to me, how when I'm having a down moment or a bad day I get chastised for it.  She agreed with me, that sometimes people speak before they think, and even though they mean well, they can end up making you feel crappier than you felt in the first place.

I think it's only fair then to share some of the things that are just generally inappropriate things to say to someone who is chronically ill or terribly depressed, or both.  If you've said some of this stuff to me, don't feel bad about it.  I know all my friends and family want to encourage and be helpful to me and I know you don't mean me harm. 

1. "You have to stay positive.'  No, I don't.  I've found myself floating around in the whirlpool of a life with crap floating all around me and you want me to stay positive?  Before you utter those words, let the reality of my situation sink into your head:  I have END stage renal disease.  I am on dialysis.  I have a broken leg. My house is in foreclosure.  No one will hire me because they seem to think that I can't work and be on dialysis at the same time. I have a rocky relationship with the daughter who lives in my upstairs bedroom. I have fatherless seven year old who has anger issues. We won't even talk about the loneliness or the screwed up relationships or any of that stuff.  Think of your life when noting extraordinary is going on.  Think about your every day stress and then add my stress to that.  That is where I am every morning when I wake up and every night when I fall asleep.  It isn't going to change. There is no cure, no way out of this except through it, and sometimes going through something means being tuned in enough to your reality to let it make you feel shitty.  So I will have shitty days and weeks and maybe even months.  It doesn't mean I've given up hope, it just means I need to feel and process what's happening to me and I do not have to be positive all the time. 

2. "But you are so strong!"  I don't feel strong right now.  I realize I have overcome a lot of  adversity and I'm glad you have confidence in me, but I am not strong.  No one can be strong all the time.  I am grieving for a part of myself that has essentially died.  The part of me that was independent, outgoing, confident and active. This disease takes away so much and if I don't take the time to be weak, to let myself grieve for what I've lost, I will never make it to a healthier place. I am not strong and I can't be strong right now, but maybe I need you to be strong for me.  I'm sorry it makes you uncomfortable when I am not the person you used to know, but I"m dealing with some shit here, and this is the kind of shit that can make a weakling out of even the strongest person.

3. "Why don't you_____".  Fill in the blank.  Go back to work. Go visit your family. Get a new hobby. Invite people over...etc...When you start a question with "why" it sounds an awful lot like judgement.  I feel like you're telling me I chose this for myself.  It seems like you don't understand or haven't considered the fact that I have been fighting this all my life and that I have given it my best shot.  Guess what?  It caught up with me anyway.  No one will hire me once they know I am a dialysis patient. My family makes me feel like I'm losing my mind. My hobby is this blog. I'm ashamed to have people over because my house is a freaking disaster area.  I never realized how much harder housework would be without the use of one leg.  Trust me, if I'm NOT doing something you think I should be doing, I have a good reason for it or I've already tried it or I'm trying it right now.  My reasons  may not be something understand or agree with, but for me, they're reason enough.  Why don't you keep your judgmental attitude to yourself?

4. "It doesn't look that bad." I have explained a million times why my leg isn't in a cast, but for some reason, once people realize it isn't in one, they seem to think my little broken leg isn't such a big deal.  My leg is broken IN my knee joint. Meaning the bottom part of my leg on which the integrity of my knee depends is simply not there. It was crushed in the accident I had, and now my knee is being held together with pins, bone grafts and a plate. It isn't in a cast because it is my knee, and if I go too long with out moving it, it will get stuck in a straight position.  Ever tried to walk without bending your knee?  I don't want to walk like a pirate, so sue me.  I do the range of motion exercises I'm supposed to do every day even though it hurts because I want to walk normally again someday, which is something my doctors are telling me might not happen.  They say I'll probably always have a limp. So, maybe it doesn't look bad from the outside because there's no cast on my leg, but it is a horrible way to break a leg so give me some credit for putting up with this and whatever follows it.  Would you want to hop around on one leg for 3 or 4 months?  Didn't think so.

5. "Well you look great!" I get this one a lot, usually from people who haven't seen me in a while.  I don't know what they're expecting me to look like, but apparently I defy the imagination.  Inevitably they ask how I'm feeling, and then they follow that up with "Well you look great!" Thanks for the compliment.  I realize you're referring to my recent weight loss, even though it has come at the price of my health.  I'm sorry to disappoint you by not looking sick enough, but this is just who I am.  It's as though you want me to forget about the fact that I'm battling this disease or trying to recover the use of my leg and just be happy that I at least look good.  I don't mind being complimented so much, but when you tell me more than once in a sitting that I look good, I start to doubt the honesty in your voice.  If I look so good, why do you have to keep saying it? Who are you trying to convince, me or you?  Whether I look like it or not, I'm struggling with this.

6. "You're letting this get the best of you." Let me just say that the best of me is all that's left. This is a disease that strips you of everything you have ever felt good about.  It attacks your self-esteem by disfiguring your body. It makes you tired when you want to be energetic.  It makes the people in your life scurry away like mice.  It robs you of financial security, your job, your pride in what you've managed to gain for yourself. It makes you feel incompetent, alone and quite lost.  It takes away your dreams for the future and it makes you regret a lot of your past. It makes the people you love worry, it makes them pressure you to act like you feel fine when you really don't. It robs you of time and resources.  It strips away so much of who you are and once it's done doing its stripping, there's nothing left of you but whatever lies at your core.  The best of me is who I am when I'm at my lowest, and I don't think I've ever felt much lower than I do now. So don't tell me that the best of me has been defeated or that I've let this disease take even the very essence of who I am away from me.  If I'm hard to love it's not because the best of me is gone, it's because this is all I am and all I've really ever been without the frills.  

7.  "You have so much to live for." I do?  Oh, you mean my son.  I have my son to live for. I guess you're right. But children grow up and move away.  Then what?  What will I have to live for once he is finished growing up?  I know you can't answer that question for me.  I can't even answer it for myself right now, but I know it has to be more than the cause of raising my child.  He's important to me and I love him with all my heart, but I can't put the burden on him of being my only reason to live.  Nobody needs to live with that kind of pressure, especially a child.

8. "I made it through_______, so you can make it through this."  A week or so ago I made a comment online about the difficulties I'm having with my son.  Someone posted that she made it through raising her son, so I would make it too.  The difference is, she didn't have a 7 year old at 44.  She also didn't have ESRD or dialysis.  She wasn't single either.  She had a good paying job and as spouse and her health. It isn't a fair comparison.  While I'm sure she faced challenges, they weren't even close to the challenges I have.  Likewise, people often tell me of the struggles they have overcome in an effort to make me feel better about coming out on the victorious side of this disease.  But what they don't get is that no one is ever victorious over kidney disease.  It is incurable.  All I will ever be able to do is cope with it.  If it decides to take more from me than it has already, there's not much I can do about it.  I will make it through this, but I won't make it out alive, and that's the fundamental difference between me and most of the people who want to make comparisons.

9. "You shouldn't feel that way."  I am aware that I sometimes let my thoughts and emotions overwhelm me.  I know you don't like knowing when I'm depressed or feeling particularly hopeless about things.  But the truth is, I feel how I feel.  I will never tell you that you're wrong for feeling the way you do.  All anyone really needs to is to be heard and accepted, and if you really want my feelings to change, you'll hear me and give me permission to feel what I feel without judging me.  Everyone deals with situations where they should or shouldn't do or say or feel certain things, and in time we work our way out of those circumstances, but we often can't get through things if we deny ourselves the right and yes, responsibility, of feeling our emotions. This might not be easy for you to hear or go through with me, but it is necessary if I am ever going to grow past it and let it change me in all the ways I need to change in order to cope with it and live my life.

10. "Why did you do that?"  Part of being single is learning how to manage on your own without help from other people.  Being a single mother makes that all the more important.  So after I broke my leg, I had to start adapting right away.  That meant that I had to do some things for myself that were risky and it meant getting hurt once or twice trying to do those things. But when people found out that I had tried lifting a heavy box by myself or tried to make the bed without leaning on crutches (which is nearly impossible) I got the high-pitched "are you crazy" form of "Why'd you do that???"  I did it because I had no other option.  I did it because I was the only one here and I had to do it for myself.  I would like help with things sometimes, but I don't always get what I want and when I don't have anyone else to depend on I have to depend on me. I do what I do because I have to.  So don't fuss at me about it, especially if you don't want to help me with it.

I'm sure I, Like everyone else, have said some pretty stupid things to people without realizing it.  I'm positive I have.  When you've never been in the same situation as someone else, when you don't know the history behind who they are, you can't always know the right thing to say.  You want to help, to encourage and be supportive, but sometimes what you say makes matters worse no matter what.  It is in those times when you can never fail to help by just letting the person you love be who they are in that time and place. Allow him or her to experience emotions, good and bad and accept them, even if you don't understand them.  More than anything, I need to know that my friends and family love me unconditionally.  I need to know that they don't think less of me when I'm not positive or optimistic.  I need permission to be who I am, feel the way I feel without judgement, without being chastised and without feeling as if I am disappointing everyone around me by being human.

I know sometimes you're just trying to understand me.  Sometimes you're sick of my attitude.  Sometimes you've had enough and you just want a break from me and all the trouble that comes with me.  I understand that, and I'm not angry with you for it.  I just hope that by sharing this I am able to help those who want to be an encouragement to others, and maybe help other people like me who struggle with enough already, without the people around them putting their mouths in gear before starting up their brains.

And if I have ever said an insensitive, thoughtless thing to any of you in your times of trouble, I sincerely apologize. 

Happy Birthday, Dummy

I am writing to you.  You know who you are, or you will by the time you finish reading this.
Remember a few years ago, when we went out for Mexican food and then drove around aimlessly, trying to think of something fun to do?  That was the night that I found a paper at the restaurant announcing Neil Young's concert in Spartanburg.  I bought us both tickets to go, only I ended up going without you.

I never told you that I gave your ticket to my guitar teacher.  It wasn't that I really knew him all that well, but I remembered him telling me once that he loved Neil, and I figured I might as well share something I treasured so much with someone who would appreciate it.  So, on the night of the concert I sat in the very last row at the top of the auditorium smelling weed from the people smoking behind us, with my youngest daughter and my guitar teacher on either side of me.  I thought about you, but I realized you were never meant to be there with me in the first place.

It seems like life plays tricks on you sometimes, when people wander in and out of it seemingly without purpose.  It's as if we sometimes need someone to come along and shake us up, make us remember who we are and why we are.  It's as if, without those people, we might close ourselves off from everything, both good and bad and begin to just exist without really living.

And with your birthday being tomorrow, I just thought I'd let you know that even though we are miles apart, even though what once drew us to one another was ephemeral, I'm still grateful that you came along and shook me up.

Somehow you managed to get to me, past the rawness of my hurt and hopelessness of my heart.  You tore me apart some more, and then you left me to heal on my own.

And maybe that was just what I needed to make me understand that I have to value myself, because it's very likely no one else will see my worth.  It's up to me to make the most of this life, and even though I'm not feeling very hopeful about it lately, I know I can't give up.

Because I don't want to get to the place where I need to be shaken up again.

Love Always,


Rebecca

Depressed? Maybe it's The Internet's Fault

Feeling down?  Have you been depressed lately, lacking faith in humanity and dealing with a nagging sense of hopelessness that you just can't shake?

Well, it might just be the internet that's causing your woes. Every day people willingly subject themselves to the faith sucking power of a few particular types of online information, and every day we struggle to keep a sense of optimism regarding other people and the world around us.  If you're feeling particularly down on mankind and yourself lately here are a few web habits you might want to give up for at least a while, just to see how much better you'll feel without allowing their steady stream of dreary information and negative consequences infiltrate your brain and/or your life.

1. Local news websites are terrible.  Around here I think the worst culprit is Fox News Carolina.  They are the only news station in our area that tries to be hip and cool while relaying stories of murder, horror and mayhem.  To top off the absurd vibe they try to give off as super attractive, young with-it people that everyone wants to be friends with, they engage in completely inane stunts like "Friday Dance Party" where the entire crew dances around like a bunch of fools for a few seconds on camera. If you join their Facebook page, you'll get frequent updates about their personal lives that, unless you know them in person, are completely boring.  These people who want to be respected as journalists even post hyperbole asking for public opinion on certain stories.  This is especially annoying on slow news days when there's nothing particularly controversial about a story, yet they insist on trying to stir up some ire amongst their readers. Visiting their news page is an exercise in frustration and depression to the highest degree, especially once you scroll to the bottom of the page and witness the older news stories that are linked with sensationalized headlines designed to shock and even frighten you.  Last night I even saw on Facebook that they were trying to get "pumped up" before the evening news; they posted a corny video of themselves dancing to "In The Middle Of The Night" by Billy Joel, looking goofy and seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were about to go on the air and spread every tidbit of bad news they could find around here to anyone gullible enough to turn on the TV and listen.  Now I know that in every profession we all have to have our ways to discharge our stress, but you won't find healthcare professionals cracking medical jokes about dealing with patients online.  Some things are better left behind the scenes.  I don't watch TV, but I do tend to read the news online and I've figured out it's just a bad idea unless you really want to become an agoraphobic hermit, afraid to step out of your house for fear of a drive-by shooting or being killed by a drunk driver.  The news is, for the most part, always bad news.  The feel-good stories just aren't considered to be top-shelf journalism and that is never going to change. Stay away from the local news for a few days, and see how much your mood improves.

2. Just like the local news, Facebook can bring you down fast.  It isn't so much that you're reading horrific stories about the insane violence that people perpetuate against each other, like in the news; but you still get a sense that the world is just really screwed up if you spend too much time reading status updates and watching videos shared by your friends and websites like Upworthy.  Everyone wants to feel as if their life is is as meaningful and filled with love and acceptance as anyone else's.  But on Facebook people seem to fall on both ends of the spectrum with very few falling in the bounds of having "normal" lives.  Either your friends are highly successful, positive and lucky, or they are deeply depressed failures who seem to have nothing but bad luck follow them around like a black cloud of doom.  Truth is, at different points our lives all fall in various places on that spectrum, but we are less than honest about that on Facebook.  Try to not subject yourself to your bragging ex-best friend from high school or your perpetually depressed co-worker for a few days, and I bet you will start to regain your sense of equilibrium when it comes to looking critically at yourself and your life.  You'll feel more normal, more balanced and more like you've got a chance to get to where you want to be.  Trade in the defeat that constant reminders of other people's woes can give you for your own sense of hope and optimism.  You might just decide that it's not worth keeping that social networking crap going if you ever get used to living without it again.

3.  Stay away from Craigslist. I'm looking for a place to move to soon, so I've spent a little time every day on CL searching the real estate section.  First of all the sheer number of people who use the site to scam others is astounding.  For every legitimate person you contact there seem to be 5 more who want to rent you a house that doesn't exist, or isn't for sale, or isn't even theirs.  Last week someone even gave me an address to drive to and when I got there it was a completely different house, occupied by folks who had no intention of ever moving and who were unaware their house was being advertised for rent.  Also, even if you're just curious as to what other people do, don't ever read the Personals or Rants and Raves.  There are some truly sick and depraved people in the world.  Apparently they've all decided to come together on Craigslist to convince the rest of us that we should never believe the best of our fellow human beings.  Women are strictly objects, men are consumed by their primitive sexual desires, and racism and bigotry thrive in an atmosphere where folks are allowed to hide behind their anonymity.  They spew their sexism, misogyny and unbridled anger at people who are different from them with complete disregard for social standards of conduct.  If you spend any time at all reading Rants and Raves, you will completely give up on the redemption of mankind for a while. If you plan to buy something from someone you met on CL, make sure you meet in public and bring backup.  Otherwise, you may never be seen again.  This site can be seriously dangerous, in addition to being downright creepy and amoral. 

4. Google searches for medical and/or mental health problems will always land you in an anxious state of mind, wondering if you indeed have some horrible illness, or if that's just a heat rash on the back of your neck.  You'll end up diagnosing yourself with Bi Polar disorder or even worse, a personality disorder.  You'll convince yourself that the tiny red bump on your inner thigh is cancer or herpes or shingles.  Everything you eat will make you feel like you are slowly committing suicide if you read too much about health and nutrition and you might discontinue your much needed medications if you linger too long on WebMD looking at the list of side effects and drug interactions of each medicine you take.  Some things are better left for the real professionals to decide and are not open to our interpretation of the online symptom lists that are often over simplified or under represented.  If you are having concerns about your health, go to a doctor.  If you're worried about your mental state, call a good therapist.  You'll be glad you let the pros handle the situation, and your mind will remain free from the hamster-wheel of anxious guessing at what might be the problem.

5. Trust me, never EVER try to figure out the inner-workings of a relationship or of another person by reading about relationships online.  Don't take the advice of "dating" gurus, and don't fret over what their definition of a good guy/girl is, or how to determine the health of your relationships.  You will end up fretting over things that you shouldn't give a second thought and you'll ignore the meaningful stuff.  These relationship experts are often just experts at manipulating human behavior and they're out to teach you the art of doing just that.  But if manipulation of others doesn't come naturally to you, you'll never be able to keep your cool and carry out their techniques.  The best advice in the world is probably just to be yourself and let others be who they are.  If something great blossoms out of two people coming together, great!  If things are so complicated that you have to turn to some manipulative stranger online to gain a sense of security and control over the outcome, you're probably hanging on to tightly to something that needs to be let go.  Seriously dating "experts" can ruin your love life.  Stay away!

6. Stop looking for love online.  I'm sure that once in a blue moon a couple hooks up through Match.com and goes on to live happily ever after, but in their own commercials, dating sites admit that only 1 in 5 relationships begin online.  When you break that down to an individual basis, it might mean you'll end up going on a dozen or more dates with total losers before you even find a person you'd want to see a second time.  Often men and women on dating sites have completely opposite goals; but if you look hot and a guy wants to get in your pants, he'll tell you what he thinks you want to hear at least long enough for him to get your zipper down.  Most people lie about themselves in their profiles: either they're fatter than they say, older than they say or more married than they admit.  Guys tend to post pics of themselves six years ago when they had a head full of hair, or pics of themselves wearing sunglasses and baseball caps like a disguise.  When you meet someone in real life, you can size them up pretty quickly.  You see the bald head, but you also get the cute sense of humor.  You might notice the 10 extra pounds, but you really dig that great smile. Online dating is a sure fire way to get yourself into a predicament with a stranger that you'd probably been better off never having met.  Stick to the real world despite what everyone else is doing.  You'll save yourself a lot of headaches, and you'll be much more likely to find the kind of relationship you want.

Alas, The Fleeting Years Slip Away

I visited my parents today.  Not an unusual thing to do on Father's day, I know, but it is something that for me, requires a lot mental shoring up before I hop to the car and cram my seven year old in the back seat for the hour-long ride. I always know how these visits are going to go before I even get there, and they never fail to meet my expectations, except of course for the rare occasions when someone else is also visiting when I arrive...then the visits exceed my expectations.

What do I expect? You must be wondering.  And I understand your curiosity, after all, I am just going to hang with my folks for a few minutes on a Sunday afternoon.  How challenging can that be?  Well let me tell you, it's plenty challenging.

See, my folks are 80 years old.  Not the oldest people I've ever hung out with, but old enough so that communicating with them is sometimes a nightmare.  They are both quite hard of hearing.  My father is always glued to the television, some fishing show or sports game blaring in the background.  My mother has taken to mumbling in her old age, so even though she speaks loudly, you often can't understand a darned thing she's saying.  Years ago my folks decided that they no longer needed to be courteous to one another and started both speaking at the same time to the same person about two different things.  I thought back then that I felt crazy by the time I left there, from listening to two separate conversations at once from my parents.  I started to cut my visits a little shorter unless I was able to corner my dad outside and then visit with my mom inside.  It seemed the only way to retain my sanity was to divide and conquer.

Now though, with the TV playing loudly in the background, the air conditioner in the window humming loudly, my dad telling me a story I've already heard a million times and my mother vocalizing in an unrecognizable language I tend to feel as if my head is about to explode.  Now you understand my afternoon. Except for it was even worse than that.

My oldest sister came by while I was there.  She sat on the left side of the room. My mother was on the far right and my dad was beside me, sitting across from my mom, flipping through one loud channel after another with the "Button".  That's what he calls the remote. My sister and mother had a long disjointed conversation about their health...actually they both had separate conversations with me about their individual health.  Seems my sister has recently found out she 's diabetic.  My other is diabetic too and has been for about half her life.  She now has diabetic neuropathy, which she refers to as "diabetic worms."

"Diabetic worms?" I asked, raising my voice to a decibel to which it hasn't been since...well, maybe ever.

"Yeah," she answered. "I got them worms in my feet." she answered, raising one leg to rub the bottom of her foot.

"It's just something she made up," my dad interjected without looking away from the TV.

Turns out that yesterday afternoon, my mother became so convinced that there were worms in her feet that she called EMS.  She told them she was positive it was worms because they kept knocking the blanket off her feet when she fell asleep.

"They told me I wasn't doin' no good." She said.

"Yeah," I hollered back to her as my sister went on chattering loudly in my other ear about drinking more water and avoiding bread. "Sounds like your neuropathy is really giving you a lot of trouble."

"It is." She conceded. And then the whole conversation with both her and my sister simultaneously screaming in both my ears started repeating itself again.

Charlie sat on the couch beside me looking bewildered.  He has never handled noisy situations well, but this was more that noise, it was chaos.  Even I was beginning to feel as though I were on the edge of a breakdown.

I tried to engage my dad in conversation, but he couldn't hear me above the hum of the AC and the loud murmuring of my mother and sister.  Charlie eventually got up and went over to stand by his papa, talking to him about our vacation last year and how his big sisters were doing.

That led to the whole conversation where my mother tried to make me feel responsible for the choices of my two adult daughters.  My mother doesn't approve of one daughter's much older boyfriend, and she is disdainful of the other daughter's relationship as well.  She knows my daughter isn't married, and lectured me for at least half an hour about girls who end up ruining their lives by getting pregnant before they're wed.  I deflected and changed the subject as quickly as I could.

Then the topic somehow changed to all the people they know from church who have committed adultery, sexual assault or some other sin.  I really don't want to know anymore about that than I already do.  So at that point, I found my way to exit, hugged them both and wished my dad a happy father's day before I slipped out the door.

My dad has celebrated almost 60 Father's Days.  Is it any wonder that he doesn't really place much meaning on it anymore?  Honestly, I think he would have been content to have sat in his chair with some peace and quiet all afternoon, rather than have to keep turning up the volume to drown out all the talkative women around him.  He's gotten all the new ties a man could ever want: He's gotten homemade paper cards with our hand prints on them, new cologne, flannel shirts and fishing equipment, you name it.  There's nothing he really expects or wants from any of us, other than a quick hug and for us to tell him we love him and to be left the heck alone to watch his shows in silence.  After 60 years of being a father, I guess even Father's Day seems to become a bit of a drudgery.

I drove home with my head still spinning a little. It isn't until after I leave that I sometimes piece together all that was said to me in the flurry of words and background noise at their house.  Today all I could really come up with was the fact that my parents are aging more rapidly than ever before.  My dad's memory isn't what it used to be. My mother has less couth than ever.  Even my eldest sister seems to be drifting into the all consuming swell of age.

And that was the last thought I could muster up about this day.  It's that time really does fly. Our kids grow up and grow distant and we all have to accept the inevitable passing of youth.  So before our hearing goes, before we find ourselves with nothing more to talk about than the increasing failures of our bodies, before we need a blanket over our knees in the summertime and while we can still remember what happened yesterday, we need to put all we can into making the most of every facet of life.

Love the people in your world. Give of yourself--I don't mean your financial resources either.  Money is something that gets used up and forgotten.  Give to those you love from your heart, and try not to expect anything in return.  Laugh a little every day.  Pray for the strength to remain grateful in the face of every circumstance. Treasure every hug, every smile, every freckle on the nose of that kid you tuck in every night, because one of these days, that kid is going to find himself fidgeting in a chair as he listens to you talk about your failing health and he will need some positive thoughts of you he can recall.

Like the time we drove to Florida and my dad was so tired that he lay on the hotel bed one morning singing silly songs from Bugs Bunny cartoons, tickling everyone who dared pass within arm's reach.  Or the time I watched Psycho with my mom and the phone rang just before the shower scene, making us both jump our of our skin and scream in terror. I need to remember them as the people they were before they became old people. It makes me appreciate them more, and it reminds me that youth doesn't last forever.

Happy Father's Day, y'all.  If that kind of thing is important to you.

If not, I wish you all the peace and quiet your heart can hope for, and plenty of fresh batteries for the "button."

Eheu fugaces labuntur anni.