I'm ADHD and...Squirrel!

I can relate to this little sideways goat. 

I was recently diagnosed with Adult ADHD. What does it feel like? See that little goat with his head turned sideways? My thoughts have raced around at a frantic pace since I was a kid, making me feel as if I was viewing everything at a slight tilt. No neat little rows of easily accessible information for me. It's been like having the messiest filing cabinet in the world in my mind, with everything simply shoved inside in random order.

Over the years I learned tricks to help me function. I made lists at work like a mad woman, and carried a notebook with me everywhere. If I didn't write it down, it was lost forever. When I needed to remember to do something, I often left an item out so I could see it as a reminder. Getting up during boring meetings and trainings wasn't appropriate business protocol, but taking the cap off of a pen over and over and over and over was OK. So was slipping my shoes off and on, off and on, off and on under the table where no one could see. And the Internet with its online banking and automatic payments became my best friend ever. I no longer had to remember to pay any of my bills. 

I have my new husband to thank for helping me seek the help I've needed for so long. I wish I had been diagnosed so much sooner, but I've never been the typical bouncing-off-the-walls ADHD person that most people envision. I'm a daydreamer, unfocused, forgetful, fidgety, a little impulsive, hard to have a conversation with, can't follow directions, leave things partially done, and until recently was fairly good at masking and minimizing my symptoms so they didn't add up to something being "wrong" with me.

What I've come to realize is that there is nothing wrong with me, I'm just wired differently. My brain needs to be stimulated so I don't have all those symptoms that add up to ADHD. I started taking Concerta a couple of days ago and I can already feel a difference. I feel calmer, able to access information in my head easier and more quickly.

Of course, this is just the beginning of my journey. I still need to learn tools to help me live a more normal life. We'll have to figure out the right dosage of medication and I'll have to stay committed to taking it daily. But I'm looking forward to these things. I'm looking forward to never again feeling like I'm looking at the world sideways like that little goat. 

The Art of Lunch

I've become fascinated with bento boxes. If you're not familiar with them, I highly recommend you do a Google search and check out a few images. Some are fantastical art that only resemble food when you look closely.

What I like most about bento boxes is that they seem like little lunchtime gifts. Most aren't elaborate art, they're simply lovely food divided into small containers in a lunchbox. Simple enough isn't it? But how many of us take the time to package our lunch so it's a wonderful treat when the clock strikes noon? I don't. I throw things into baggies with one hand as I use the other to pour water into the cup that goes with me everywhere. Then I dash out the door to work. When lunchtime rolls around, I eat at my desk and hope people have the decency to leave me alone for at least 30 minutes while I wolf down whatever happened to land in the lunch bag that never keeps anything cold or warm enough.

No longer. Bento boxes have made me realize lunch isn't just about satisfying the gnawing little hunger in my stomach I keep trying to ignore. It's about taking a break, breathing deeply, relaxing, enjoying what I'm eating, reading a book, writing a story, talking to a friend, listening to music. Perhaps one of the things that's keeping me from truly being satisfied at lunchtime is that I'm not stopping to actually participate in the art of taking a lunch.

So I purchased my own version of a bento box, and today I filled it with my favorite yogurt, apple slices, carrots, cucumbers, spinach, tuna salad, veggie chips, pita bread, and string cheese. I brought a placemat, real silverware, and a cloth napkin with me to complete the experience. It's the same lunch and snacks I had yesterday, but it was so much better today. Music played as I relaxed and enjoyed my meal, which was arranged nicely in burgundy bowls. I didn't think about photographing it until I was finished, but this is the lunchbox I'm using, purchased at Amazon.

Today's experience proved to me that it's worth taking a few minutes each night before I go to bed to make my lunch so I can have an enjoyable meal every day at work. If I'm more satisfied with my meal and less stressed overall, I'll be less likely to want to have an unplanned snack later in the day.

Thank you, little bento boxes!

That Naughty Four Letter Word

I celebrate, mourn, kill time, and console with it. At times it feels like my best friend, and then it turns on me. The variety of it is endless, and yet I often stand frozen, staring, waiting for the perfect thing to jump out at me as I search the kitchen with my eyes and stomach.

It haunts and taunts me, making me feel like I have no more control over my appetite than I do the weather. The mere notion of being on a diet is enough to send my body into hunger shock. If I dare to take action and limit the amount and types of food I eat, my stomach rebels, going into a Hulk-like rage until I give in and down the nearest unhealthy treat within reach. I slump in disgrace as my stomach gurgles, "Puny human." I am no match for the lure of food. 

Still, I try. Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, Weigh Down, Slim Fast, and The Christy Knight Starvation Plan. Of them all, the best for me was Weight Watchers. I learned that I didn't have to deprive myself of things I love to eat and drink, as long as I did it in moderation. It worked. Again and again and again. But counting points or calories, and analyzing every morsel or drop that slips past my lips is simply no fun. Eventually I near my goal and grow tired of the chore that eating becomes. I think B.B. King was singing about food in his famous song. The thrill is gone indeed.

But here I sit, ready to give it another try with yet another program...make that programs. And this time I'm making it more public. Perhaps sharing on my blog how much I've lost or gained will help me keep my resolve to be a healthier person at a healthier weight. Maybe it will shame me into submission when I feel the need to rebel.

So look up and to the left. You'll see an indicator from MyFitnessPal that will show how much I've lost in total. I'm starting at zero so we have a clean slate. Along the way I'll blog about topics that are on my mind, share things I find that are useful (or not), and post recipes on the "Recipes" tab (always with nutrition info). If you're interested in joining me, MyFitnessPal is free. I'm also going to use some of the USDA SuperTracker tools. It's also free, and if you've never peeked at it, you should. I like them for different reasons. Both were very revealing to me and helped me see where I need to improve.

I'll leave you for now with a clip of a gentleman named Aaron Wilburn singing part of the lyrics to a song called The Diet Song, written by Shel Silverstein (modified by Mr. Wilburn). Wish me luck in my new journey. Join me if you dare.

My Private Paradise

The city where I live built a wonderful little park for me. The winding walking trail begins across the street from my front door and progresses down a small hill. Tall trees stand guard as the trail leads to several small grassy areas with shorter trees, planters, boulders, and flowers. Soon they will fill my private paradise with new plants, trees, art, and a small foot bridge.

As I walk through the little park, I'm greeted by various birds. During the spring, summer, and fall, a trio of doves were always there to greet me and make my day brighter. Today a gaggle of geese looked at me briefly, then went about their business. When the weather is warmer, butterflies float across my path, and grasshoppers bound joyously in the distance. It's a place of peace. It's a place where I'm usually alone and can think.

The view from below.

Of course the city didn't build it just for me, but because I'm usually the only person walking through the park on any given day, it often feels as if they designed it with me in mind. Occasionally I'll cross paths with a wayward family riding bikes or out for an evening stroll, but usually it's all mine. I never thought I'd have my own park.

We all need special places that feel as if they're all ours. These little oases give us comfort and help us recharge our batteries so we can deal with the world in a civilized manner. They help those of us who are creative reconnect with our muses. My place is a park across the street. For others, it might be a busy coffee shop or a room in their home.

Now you know mine. I hope you have yours as well.

And We're Surprised...Why?

We've all seen news about various Occupy movements around the country and the term class warfare has been tossed around by the likes of Speaker of the House John Boehner and others. Now generational warfare is the latest, as the Super Committee admits failure to come to consensus. Anyone who's surprised by recent events hasn't been paying attention.

For years Americans have arrogantly believed it was their right as citizens of the U.S.A. to build wealth and flaunt it. In fact, they felt they were entitled to it. Can't actually build wealth? Hey, it's OK. Just borrow money and pretend you have it to spend. It's what the U.S. government does. Instead of learning values from their parents, many American citizens learned them from a government that has continued to pretend it's still a superpower in the world. They learned from celebrities who ask for more and more for doing relatively little. They bought into the false belief that everyone who lived on U.S. soil was, for some reason, inherently entitled to wealth and "the good things" in life.

Is it really surprising then that when everyone came crashing down to earth, when reality finally set in, that people would be angry? The economy has failed. The losers are those who bought into the pretense of living beyond their means, those who simply wanted to have a piece of the American Dream of owning a home, and those who were unlucky enough to work for companies or government agencies that felt the need to begin massive layoffs to balance budgets or build reserves. In the meantime, people who have remained wealthy, those who actually had plenty to lose and still float in the deep end of the luxury pool, are living their lives as they always have; however, they're now perceived as the new super villains, along with government and corporations.

It was inevitable. Life as many people knew it was going to change, and not for the better. If people didn't see this coming, they were lying to themselves. I'm not an economist or a great world thinker, but I had conversations with people years ago about how it was all going to come crumbling down one day. It was inevitable.

I'm not going to delve into who's right, who's wrong, who needs to see the light, who needs to back off. I'm just surprised by the number of intelligent people who watched the same news I did, saw the same things happening in our country, and didn't see that one day we would be a country at odds with ourselves. Republicans vs. Democrats. Rich vs. poor. Insured vs. non-insured. Those with homes vs. the homeless. Well fed vs. the hungry. Baby boomers vs. Generation Z. The list goes on. The only thing I can't look into the future and see is how it's all going to end. I wish I could.

We need to look at ourselves, that includes me, and ask what our part in all of this is. We need to look at ways we can concretely create change. It isn't by pitching tents and sitting on sidewalks, waiting for a rogue cop to pepper spray us. It's by closing our wallets to big corporations and supporting our local small businesses. Transferring our money from big banks to local credit unions. Researching candidates and items up for vote before we cast our ballot. And actually following through and casting that ballot. Perhaps we need to remember the values our grandparents and great-grandparents had; those that focused on family, friends, and earning an honest living - not material possessions. Maybe we need to get back to the basics.

But So-and-So Said...

People often make statements about things without having all the facts. They go by hearsay, making assumptions based on what they've heard through the grapevine, from their neighbor, an email from a friend, a news outlet, or a magazine ad. Some wonder enough to do a little research and find the facts, but many choose to simply believe what they were told by mass media or an individual with an opinion or a little gossip.

As one who doesn't take things at face value and always likes to go to the source for information, it's hard for me to understand people who base their entire belief system about a subject on what they've been told by a third party. How can you effectively debate or defend your support of a political party or bill up for vote in Congress if you've never actually checked out the background of the candidates or read the bill itself? Is it possible to truly know a person if all you've heard about them is what your coworkers have told you? Shouldn't you talk to the person directly and find out if they really did rob that bank back in 1992? And then there's the biggie. Religion. Faith and belief in a higher power is something that is innate in many of us. But that doesn't mean we have to blindly accept the religion of our parents. Doesn't something as important as your core belief system deserve some time and research? It doesn't mean you have to deny or abandon your Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim, atheist, Wiccan, whatever views. It just means you're a more educated person who is confident and knowledgeable about not only your religion but others as well.

People slam us with information every day. Unless you stay home with the phone, television, computer, and radio turned off, there is no way to avoid someone trying to influence you about something. Some are subtle and wind it into a conversation. Others are blatant and present you with a laundry list of "facts" that you need to know. Sometimes we realize right away that what they're telling us isn't true or that they aren't telling us a truth we don't already know. Other times we have do a little digging at the source to get the truth.

When you defend your point about a subject, when you make a judgement about a person, do you base it on what you've heard from others or do you try to find the truth for yourself? Are you open to knowing the truth if it differs from what you've heard or what you've always believed it to be?

Beware of Saws

Family. We don't choose them, and those we're related to typically don't have a say in our choice of spouse when we say "I do." We end up with this interesting blend of personalities, walking thinly drawn lines to keep the peace or finding soulmates in our in-laws. When it works, it makes one feel secure and loved. When it doesn't, it can be devastating.

Family connections are important. We need each other, in good times and bad. The history we have with one another is unique and helps make us who we are. There are very few justifiable reasons why we should turn our backs on family. Unless someone does something unforgivably egregious, you should always find a way to make amends, and never let an outside person be the catalyst for the breakdown of communication with someone you love.

I recently witnessed a wife actively seek to separate her husband from his brother. There is nothing that can justify her actions. The brother has done nothing to her or her husband. Yet this woman spent months trying to not only break up the brothers, but also break up the relationship the brother has with his girlfriend. To drive the final nail in the familial coffin, she had her husband tell his mom that they would no longer spend holidays with her because of the brother. The woman is pure evil.

My hope is that this woman's husband will eventually realize what is really happening and speak to his brother. They need to come together and he needs to know the truth of what his wife has done. The brothers need to become family again.

None of us know how much time we have left with those we love. We don't know how much time we have to make up with those we're estranged from. If there is someone in your past you've cut out, I encourage you to examine what happened and ask yourself if the offense was really worth severing ties. If not, be brave and take the first step to mending your relationship. Don't let too much time go by. Family is important. We need each other.

Dork of the Day (or The Ding That Wasn't)

When things happen to my condo or car, I like to take care of the problem as soon as possible so I don't have to worry about it. That's why when a rock hit my windshield, putting a nice sized ding in it, I immediately called a company to fill it in before it could become a full-fledged crack. I had used this company before and they'd always done an outstanding job. This day they provided the same outstanding service.

My appointment window was between 9:00 and 12:00; they were coming to me, so I wasn't going to lose any work time, just a lot of money to fix the rock ding. Around 10:00ish, a nice lady arrived to repair my windshield. But when I went outside to meet her, she said she couldn't see a current chip, just one that had already been repaired. Huh? I could clearly see it. Was she blind? Did they send me a newbie who hadn't been trained properly? No worries. I'd help her out. I opened my car door, slid behind the wheel, and pointed to the big rock ding.

"Ah!" she said as I joined her outside, "I see the problem."

And with that, she used her thumb to scrape away my "ding." Turns out my ding was...a bug. After apologizing to her profusely and being reassured that I wouldn't be charged for the bug diagnosis, she assured me I wasn't the first to call about a "rock/bug ding." That didn't keep me from feeling like the Dork of the Day, but it was nice to know I wasn't the only one.

We all have our dorky moments. They keep life interesting and sometimes provide a few laughs. So here's to me and my Dork of the Day moment!

The Daisy Trail

It feels like forever since I've posted something new. These days, I do several things a bit slower than I used to, thanks to my unexpected side trip to the hospital a month ago. It's temporary. I'm working my way back to normal bit-by-bit. But nothing prepared me for the horror I would feel while doing something that used to be a breeze: walking a mile.

My doctor told me I should take it easy and never go fast enough to begin breathing heavily. No problem. I've walked that trail a hundred times. For a few days I went out, did my walk, and was proud of myself for making it up the little hill and back down again. OK, so it's really just a slight incline. It took longer than it used to and I had to keep slowing down because I became winded easily (thanks a lot, blood clots), but I did it. Then I realized just how slow I was going. Turtle slow. Worse than old lady slow. Toddler just learning to walk slow.

There I was, enjoying the beautiful day, saying hello to those going the opposite direction, when it happened. I was passed by two small women who were at least in their 70s. They had their cute little outfits on, complete with matching caps, and there I was in my baggy jeans (because I've lost weight) and giant straw hat (hey, it was sunny and I'm very fair). I had just been smoked by Miss Daisy and her friend on the walking trail. Fine. It was a sad moment. I stopped to mourn and catch my breath.

So on I trudged, trying to convince myself that they were superhuman and I'm really not that slow. The reality is that I am right now. That's OK. If I keep doing what I'm supposed to, someday I'll be back to normal or better, and when I am, I'll leave them in the dust as I pass and be proud of how much I've progressed.

What Does It Feel Like?

I consulted my trusted blog advisor, Steven, about what I should write for this post, and at first said I didn't want to divulge too much about what's been happening in my personal life lately. I've since changed my mind. I think what's happened to me this past week is important, and I need to write about it, just in case it might save the life of someone else.

Last Monday was a typical day; however, I noticed a little soreness in the upper part of my back. As the day went on, the pain grew worse and I decided I had pulled something. The pain spread across my back and into my chest, and I noticed it was getting harder to breathe. By the end of the day, I couldn't take in deep breaths because of the pain. 

I was supposed to Skype-cook with Steven that night, but knew he had a cluster headache (trust me, they're terrible), so I at least had a reprieve until he felt better later. We talked and decided ibuprofen and an hour of rest might help us both. An hour later I felt slightly better, and we cooked our meals together via Skype (same recipe at the same time with our laptops in the kitchen). Total prep, cook, and talk time was somewhere around 2 hours, maybe a little less. Once dinner was ready, we logged off and ate on our own. I was beginning to hurt again, but only had one ibuprofen left, so I decided a heating pad might help. It did. To the point that I fell asleep in a comfy chair with my laptop, phone, and TV remote all in my lap. I woke and decided I should have gone to bed a couple of hours ago. 

It never occurred to me to take my heating pad with me, so I simply went through my usual routine and went to bed. Hours later I woke, unable to breathe. My back and chest hurt. My first thought, of course, was that this was something a hot bubble bath could cure. No. It did help relax me and ease the pain, but it was no magical cure. I remembered the heating pad, put it on the bed and turned it up to high. Ah yes, that was what I needed. By morning I would be a different person. Little did I know...

When morning came, the pain and painful breathing were still there, so I called my doctor to see if I could get an appointment to get a muscle relaxer. I got the doctor's nurse, and we went through a series of questions and I could tell where this was headed -- heart-related problems. Um, no. I did my best to convince him it was muscle, and he did his best to convince me to go to the emergency room. I have a phobia of hospitals, so, um, no. I was determined to talk him into the muscle theory. He was having none of it.

Go. To. The. Emergency. Room. 

I finally agreed, then called my mom, who came and got me. Right now, moms are the best thing ever invented! I called Steven and let him know what was happening, and to assure him nothing was going to stop me from boarding a plane on Saturday to see him. I also called work to let them know I'd be late because my doctor's nurse was insisting I waste time and money going to the emergency room.

My mom and I drove to the Valley Hospital and Medical Center in Spokane Valley, and once I told them the list of symptoms the phone nurse insisted I write down and give them, I was immediately escorted to an area to have an EKG, which was normal. Yay, because I told everyone within ear shot, several times, no matter what they found, they must fix it in time for me to board a plane to Texas on Saturday.

Next up? Drawing blood. Ha! No easy task where I'm concerned. My veins are difficult to find, so they have to take it out of my hand. What's worse than having blood drawn from your hand? Having an IV inserted into your wrist, again because they can't find veins. I was then whisked away to x-ray and brought back with results shortly to follow. No problems with the x-rays; however, the blood tests showed signs of elevated....something that means I could have blood clots or an extreme inflammation somewhere. Next step? Whisked off to have a CT scan.

I've never had a CT scan and apparently having an IV in my wrist required the consultation of three people before they could proceed. I also made sure I informed them that they were to find nothing because I had to be on a plane to Texas on Saturday (this was my theme for the day). They finally decided the dye or whatever could be injected into my wrist and did so. Once the scan was over, I was again whisked back to my little room where my mom was dutifully waiting. A short time later, the nicest doctor in the world (seriously) came in and asked if I wanted good or bad news first. Hit me with the bad. "You're not getting on a plane to Texas on Saturday." That was all I heard and I began sobbing.

Again, moms are the best invention ever because she heard everything he said. Once he left and she calmed me down, I had to ask her what was wrong with me. I had blood clots in my lungs, better known as a pulmonary embolisms. I could have had a stroke or died on the plane.

They did an ultrasound to find the root of the clot, which turned out to be behind my left knee, then checked me into the hospital for five days of absolutely no rest and a massive amount of confusing information.

All this is to say that we all feel aches and pains, but some need to be taken seriously. If mine hadn't happened to affect my breathing, I probably would have popped ibuprofen for days thinking it would go away, then I would have boarded that plane on Saturday.

Don't ignore aches and pains that stick around for a while or have no real cause. Call your doctor immediately. Believe me, it's better to have some tests run and find out all is well than to die because you thought your pains were normal. I'm a healthy person. This was proven by the million other tests they ran on me. So it can happen to anyone. They believe my pulmonary embolisms were caused by a medication I was taking, but it could be genetic. We're hoping I'll only have to take blood thinners and go in for routine tests for six months. Fingers crossed.

To anyone who made it this far in this long post, I know you've heard it all somewhere before. If I can help save someone else by posting my story, then this whole blog thing has been worth it.

Musica Aeterna

My, what a mixed reaction my last post received.  Some loved it, saying it was inspirational and moved them to take action.  Others told me it was a little too preachy and I should keep my opinions to myself.  It's OK.  I can take it.  I'm not striving to please anyone except myself, but let's see if we can find some middle ground with this post.

I've recently been introduced to the wonderful world of movie soundtracks.  Yes, I knew they existed before and even owned a few, but unless the music in a movie really stood out, I never paid a lot of attention.  Now I do, thanks to a wonderfully geeky discophile in my life.  He's introduced me to music I likely never would have had the opportunity to hear (Perfume - The Story of a Murderer), and has given me music I fell in love with immediately (District 9).  Music has always played an important role in my life, but thanks to him, my horizons have been vastly expanded, and I now hear and feel the music playing in the background of every movie I watch. I notice how it affects the scene, and I understand how it can change the mood.

But after movies have ended, I'm now finding that I want to own many of the soundtracks.  Yes, some of them conjure up images of the movies I enjoyed, but most simply provide outstanding music that works as the soundtrack for my life.  Some songs are perfect for reading, others for writing, some for cleaning house, some for taking photos, and some lull me to sleep when my mind is racing and can't settle at the end of a long day.  There seems to be a soundtrack for every scenario.

Perhaps the best is that lately, I find myself simply sitting with my eyes closed, letting the music flow, conjuring new images and emotions.  It relaxes me, takes my imagination to new places, and allows me to be a little more creative.  There are also times it brings up memories of people from a forgotten or not so forgotten past, and I'm transported to a time that can't be recaptured, but can always be remembered.  The ultimate though, is when I simply drift off, unaware I'm doing so until the music ends and I awaken to silence. 

If you don't pay attention to the music in movies or even some television shows, I encourage you to listen.  And if you really enjoy what you hear, take steps to own some of it.  Let a little instrumental loveliness flow into your life and be the soundtrack for some of your day-to-day activities.  Appreciate what the composers and musicians have created. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to turn off the soundtrack to Pirates of the Caribbean and play a little music from Frost/Nixon.

Making Repairs

Greetings Dear Readers,

I know it's been more than a month since I've updated my blog, and there is simply no excuse.  Well, I have a million of them, but none are valid.  The fact is that I let myself get distracted by other things, such as reaching my goal of writing 50,000 words for National Novel Writing Month and watching some of my favorite shows on TV. If you're still with me and still reading, I hope you recognize this is just how life is and how we are as people.  Even things that are important to us are sometimes set aside in favor of things that are frivolous and fun.

As you know, if you've read my blog for any length of time, I don't really have a focus or specific topic.  Whatever happens to be on my mind at the moment is what I write about.  I considered changing that for the new year, thought maybe I would drag you along with me on a journey in writing a book, but I've decided against it.  For one, I think you'd be bored.  For another, there are times I simply want to share things that are on my mind and have nothing to do with writing; this blog is my personal venue for doing so.  Which leads us to what is on my mind today.  Actually, what has been on my mind for some time.

Relationships.  Whether friends, family, or significant others, relationships are difficult to maintain.  One wrong word, one wrong deed and everything can fall apart.  It can take years to mend and sometimes it can never be mended.  We're supposed to forgive those we love, move beyond the misspoken word or the angry statement, but too often we don't.  We hold on to the perceived wrong, the perceived ugly action and we effectively end what was once a beautiful thing that gave us joy and filled a place in our life.

Why is it so hard for us to give the other person the benefit of the doubt?  Why can we not move past the first transgression?  Why do we sometimes actively look for other transgressions after that first?  I don't have the answers.  I wish I did.  I know we've all been on both sides of the action.  We've all held a grudge and we've all been the victim of someone not giving us a true second chance.

There are several scenarios happening with people I know right now.  All it would take is conversation, forgiveness, and trust for them to regain the happiness they once had.  I don't know if it will ever happen, I can only hope.

An elderly father and his son who had a falling out several years ago haven't spoken, other than the son yelling from his front porch for the father to go away.  What is the issue?  One can only guess about the deeper underlying causes, but the surface story is that it's years of perceived misunderstandings.  The father isn't the most tactful person, and the son isn't the most forgiving.  The son has held on to an early wrong, and he's never moved beyond it.  In fact, every word and deed since that first wrong has been proof that his first judgement of the father was correct.  Now they don't speak.  The father wishes desperately his son would talk to him and let him be part of his life, but the son is having none of it.

Friends haven't spoken in years because one made a selfish decision at a time when things were strained in her life.  One doesn't know how to reach out to the other and ask for forgiveness.  The other doesn't know how to offer forgiveness unasked.  So a friendship built on years of shared secrets, tears, laughter, adventures, and love dissolves.  Over the years they think about each other and the selfish one reaches out, but the other has to forgive and trust has to be given again.

And that's what it comes down to; forgiveness and trust need to be given to the "offending" party.  Not the fake, smile to their face and tell them you forgive them kind, but the real deal; the kind that comes from your heart and the depths of your soul.  It has to be complete forgiveness.  Without forgiveness, trust simply can't follow.  If trust doesn't follow, then all of it is for naught.  But true forgiveness is difficult and sometimes impossible.  Will the son ever forgive his father?  I really hope so.  I can think of nothing more sad than for one of them to die before they've made amends.  Will the friends reconnect so forgiveness can happen?  We'll see.  One has reached out to the other, so perhaps there is hope on the horizon.

So my questions for you, dear readers, are these.  Who in your life do you need to forgive?  Who do you need to extend trust to right now in order to repair a relationship well worth saving?  Who do you need to apologize to or make amends with in order to move toward obtaining forgiveness and trust from them?  Maybe the answer is no one.  Maybe you're one of the lucky few who has perfect relationships.  If so, you are fortunate indeed.  Call or write your friends and family and tell them how much you love and appreciate them.  But if you're like the rest of us and have a relationship in need of repair, take a deep breath and make the move to regain the joy you once had with the person.  Maybe you can't get it back, but if you don't try, you won't know.  What if you take a chance and it works?

In Praise of Friends

Recently I was talking to a friend who seems to have an inordinate amount of people in his life who are very self-focused.  Let's face it, we all tend to be to some extent, but some people definitely swing more towards self than others.  Think fast and I know you can come up with at least one person in your life who has this tendency.  I know I do. Hopefully I'm not that person, but there's always that possibility.

These are the people who, if you asked them, couldn't name five things about you, even though they've known you for years.  Ask them.  Just five things.  Tell me if I have siblings, and if they are male or female.  Do you know if I've ever been married, and if so how long?  Name two cities I've lived in, not counting the one in which you met me.  What do I do for a living?  Where do I work?  What do I do in my spare time, besides write this blog?  Name my favorite drink.  Do I like animals and do I have a pet?  What is my biggest fear?  What is my biggest accomplishment?  Tell me one thing you like about me, besides the fact that I will listen to you spill your tales of woe for hours on end.  There are people I've known for years who would tell you we're good friends, but can't answer even two of those questions about me.  Sad, but true.

Then there are the people who are so in tune with me, they know me better than I know myself.  For instance, a friend who, when my mom stated I didn't like vegetables, corrected her by clarifying that I don't like most cooked vegetables but instead like them raw.  I didn't actually realize that about myself until she stated it.  Just a small fact, but something very personal that was noticed and noted.  Fortunately, I have more people in my life like this, than those who are self-focused. 

I have friends who remember other odd facts as well.  Like the friend 2,000 miles away who remembers I have a 3-4 hour meeting every Thursday morning that is usually the low point of my work week.  The friend who knows I like getting a surprise limeade in the middle of the day for no reason at all, just because it's my favorite drink.  The person who remembers I like all tomato products, but not actual raw tomatoes (the one exception to the raw veggies thing).  The friend who knows my favorite type of place to relax and unwind.  Or the one who knows I abhor all Nicholas Sparks books and movies.  These are the friends I hold near and dear, no matter how many miles or hours separate us.

I like to think I lean more toward being a thoughtful friend rather than a selfish, and have an amazing amount of "friend knowledge" stored in my brain.

Person A has lived and traveled many places in the world, hates seafood, is a sci-fi geek, can tell you who composed almost every soundtrack for every movie, loves cats, can be tender and caring, arranges DVDs by category and alphabetically, is a fabulous freak for grammar and pronunciation, is coolly creative, enjoys reading, and can make awesome pop culture references (there's much more, but I'll stop there).

Person B collects Barbies, loves cats, reads more than me, likes to drink a huge glass of iced tea every day, changes her mind at the drop of a dime, is an awesome gift giver, has a tender soul, wanted to be a nurse at one point, and is from Kentucky (again, there is so much more). 

Person C loves to shop for antiques, can be brilliantly snarky, dresses her dog in costumes for halloween, takes life in stride, is colorblind, dares to try new design ideas in her home on her own, and has a great story about how she met her husband (you know by now...there's so much more).

Person D listens to Jimmy Buffett and borders on being a Parrothead, enjoys disc golf and played in Japan, is a OU fan much to my dismay, would give you the shirt off his back, is an artist, can be sweetly sensitive, and is willing to make a fool of himself on the dance floor with me (yep, there's more).

I could go on and on about more people.

I love all my friends, both old and new.  I like learning about them and building a relationship that will stand the tests of time and distance.  My mom once sent me a quick little e-mail about how blessed I am to have so many good friendships that have lasted.  She's right.  I may not speak to everyone every day and I may not e-mail as often as I should, but I've developed connections with some very amazing and wonderful people.  Let me just take this moment to let those of you who are among my friends and read this blog know...

I love you all dearly, and would not be the person I am today had I not known you and let myself be known by you. 

Before you begin to worry about me, rest easy dear ones.  I'm just taking a moment to do what we rarely do in life, publicly appreciate those who are important to me, and my hope is that you will take a moment to do the same with those in your life as well.  

The Power of Words

Let's talk words. Nothing is as powerful as the written or spoken word. Sure, you can end a physical life with the cut of a knife, but think of the devastation or the ecstasy the wrong or right word can bring. An innocent e-mail with a flippant remark, read the wrong way makes the recipient wonder about the sender's true intent. A well placed spoken jab can destroy an entire relationship beyond repair in a matter of seconds.

No matter the language, words have the ability to change lives, for the better or worse in an instant. How often have you said something and immediately wished you could take it back? How often have you said something and immediately been glad you did? A moment of intense feeling where the words, “I love you,” are uttered without thinking can move a relationship in a new direction, good and bad. A moment of intense feeling where the words, “I hate you,” are shouted without thinking can annihilate a relationship. That's all it takes. Three small words; so much power.

Then there are the words that sometimes take too long to come forth; the long overdue apologies or inquiries about a tough situation in someone's life. Why do we wait so long? Why are the healing words often harder to utter or write than the ones that bite? We dance around the subject and avoid the person completely, until we are to the point where the words must be said or written if there is any hope of the connection with the person surviving. Leave the words unstated, and watch the relationship unravel. Yes, words keep us connected with one another; whether spoken or written, they bind us. Even when not vocalizing their emotions, people are often described as “speaking” with their eyes or “saying volumes” with a look. Words are important.

In today's world we gravitate towards Facebook, Twitter, and texting. Shorthand forms of communicating, but all created to convey our feelings, actions, adventures, and life in words for the world to see, helping us connect to others over distance and years. Even when adding photos to our online pages, we often add captions, and wait to see if someone will respond with a comment. More words; just usually short and misspelled words.

Gone, for the most part, are the days when people would correspond; sending long missives to one another describing in detail the events of their life or the things on their mind. Now we're lucky if we see something in a mass posting on Facebook updating us on the latest happening. Is it just me who misses getting handwritten letters or cards that have more than just the person's signature inside? And as for e-mails, I like epic tomes from the right person, even if it's only about how they slept too long, cooked eggs for breakfast, cleaned house all day, and decided to go to a movie. I now have a written record of this person's life, their thoughts, how they were feeling on a given day, and know that they thought enough about me personally to sit down and write more than just a few quick lines in a 140 character Twitter blast to the world.  

Yes, words are powerful. They connect us, destroy us, help us feel loved, move us to tears, and can make us laugh out loud. No wonder I continue to have an ongoing love affair with words. They are what help us move beyond ourselves to include others in our lives. So how are you using your words today and with whom are you sharing them?

Happy Birthday!

If you know me well and spend any amount of time with me May-July, you know that yesterday was my birthday. You will know this tidbit because I will begin talking about my birthday two months before it actually arrives. I love my birthday.

It isn’t that anything absolutely spectacular happens on my birthday, in fact, most birthdays are quite normal. Nor do I expect cards, gifts and flowers from everyone (although those are nice perks). So most people wonder, why would someone my age be so happy about turning over another year? Shouldn’t I have grown out of this by now? Why would I look forward to moving from one age bracket on forms to another that puts me firmly in middle age territory? Why would I want to admit that time is passing, whether I like it or not?

Usually people tell me their birthday is just another day or they dread the day because it just makes them feel older. My question to all you birthday haters and to everyone who chooses to simply ignore the day is this, why wouldn’t you love your birthday? It’s the day you entered the world and officially began your journey. It’s the day God specifically chose for you to begin transforming the world around you, merely with your presence. Isn’t that a good reason to celebrate the day?

As I’ve aged and life has thrown some fairly tough things at me, I’ve found that I’ve become more cynical and don’t trust as easily or quickly as I used to. I’ve lost my positive, “dive in without looking because it’s all going to work out” attitude and I’m often accused of being overly cautious. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that I know the day I was born is special. I know the day you were born is special. I know if you or I weren’t here, the world would be a much different place and we have no idea how far reaching the changes would be.

So the fact that I was born several years ago yesterday is a big deal. It’s worthy of taking the day off from work and giving myself the gift of time. It’s worthy of spending it with family and friends. It’s my day. Good or bad, God chose that day to bring me here to change things, even in small ways. I definitely think that’s reason to be happy, enjoy it and celebrate.

The Real Us in Photos

The piles and piles of snow we’ve had in Spokane since December 17 prevented us from celebrating Christmas with my 91 year old grandma on December 25. Not only was it very difficult to get to the home where she lives, but even if we had, there was no way she could have walked on the snowy, icy walkways. So we waited until this past Saturday and decided to have “Second Christmas.”

Her gifts were wrapped and waiting. Mine to her was a memory book I created online, filled with recently taken family photos. I was careful to put names beneath the pictures in large type I knew she could read; however, this didn’t stop her from getting some of the names of the people in the photos wrong.

Mom and I have noticed that even though she sees herself in mirrors, because of her dementia, she often forgets that she’s aged. So when she flipped through the photo book, she repeatedly thought pictures of my mom were her (even though my mom looks nothing like my grandma did when she was 62). In my grandma’s mind, she’s still a spry young thing. There have been many times she’s caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and has been shocked she no longer has red hair (from what I understand, she hasn’t had red hair since she was a girl).

I think we all have a distorted view of ourselves in some way. I have a hard time seeing my true weight in the mirror and I’m often shocked when I see photos. A friend forgets she’s in her 50’s and is surprised to see subtle little wrinkles in photographs. Another always thinks she’s taller than photos reveal her to be. And a male friend is convinced something is wrong with all cameras in the world because he couldn’t possibly have the bald spot that shows up in his photos.

I often wonder what makes us have these distorted views of ourselves and why photographs seem to reveal the truth. We all look at ourselves in mirrors every day, yet many of us are shocked when we see photographs. How did we all get magical mirrors that conceal the flaws we fear the most? Why don’t we see who we really are, not who we would like to be?

Ultimately, my grandma is one of the happiest people I know. In her mind she’s still very youthful and still has that red hair. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Nostalgia

I recently watched a news program that proclaimed people are growing more nostalgic and seeking out things from their past and beyond. Dance halls are filling with young and old doing the west coast swing, lindy hop, and waltz. People are frequenting stores that specialize in soft drinks and candy from days gone by. Sales for traditional board games are up as much as 26%. I believe it. When times get tough, I long for something familiar and comforting.

Several people on the program were asked what one thing they would like to see return from the past. The longed for included cozy bookstores, handwritten letters, and old television shows such as The Dick Van Dyke Show and Gilligan’s Island. All of these are slower, quieter, a little more relaxing than the glaring, blaring, in your face things of today. A big box bookstore just isn’t the same as one that is locally owned, where hidden treasures await you and the owner knows your name. Can you really compare a handwritten note or card to a text message that that includes the line “btw, where r u?” And although there are some funny modern sitcoms out there, I’d pick Rob and Laura from The Dick Van Dyke Show over any present day sitcom couple.

After much consideration, I decided on the thing I would bring back and make popular again if I could; music from the 60’s and 70’s. I think some of the best music in modern history was written and performed during this time, and they are the songs that make up the soundtrack for my childhood. I was fortunate enough to have grown up surrounded by a good variety of music, so it wasn’t just rock but country and other types as well. I think it shaped my appreciation for all types of music today. Through good times and bad, the music from this era defined moments in my life, told stories I could only imagine, broadened my thoughts, and helped make me who I am today. There are some songs from this era that I could do with never hearing again, but there are so many more that are classics worthy of being brought back. Some of my favorites, even today, bring a feeling of comfort and calm to me.

So that’s what I would bring back if I could. What would you bring back? What from your past gives you a sense that all is right with the world? What is the one thing that makes you feel like you just snuggled under your favorite blanket with a warm cup of hot chocolate? I’d really love to know. Post a comment or send me an e-mail.