Wearin' My Heart on My Sleeve

Here kitty, kitty......

Sat, 05 Aug 2006 03:29:24 GMT

Sometimes it takes something bizarre like falling off a baby grand piano to get one in the mood for writing. Yeah, I did that today. It was a spectacular fall and worthy of a whole story in itself. Instead, I feel like bitching about my life. So, indulge me. I could’a died today. And if that’s not enough, yesterday….I had a colonoscopy!

Because my 14 year old daughter has been experimenting with a variety of illegal substances and enjoying drugs which have not been prescribed to her, I took her to a substance abuse counselor. As my know-it-all teenage girl who-has-enough-pharmaceutical-knowledge-to-pass-the-state-board-test-on-the-first-try-does not believe she has a problem and that all adults are aliens and full of alien green shit, she; according to the counselor, would not benefit from counseling at this time.

Instead I was referred to a counselor to deal with my codependence issues. Pretty much, we meet once a week, which is what I‘ve done on Ab‘s summer vacation.

My counselor suggested I read Codependence-THE DANCE of WOUNDED SOULS-A Cosmic Perspective of Codependence and the Human Condition.

The author, Robert Burney, is said to be a non-clinical, non-traditional therapist-a healer, teacher and Spiritual guide whose private practice is based upon the Twelve Step Recovery principles. He specializes in codependence counseling with emphasis on emotional honesty, grief processing and inner child work-while teaching individuals how to become empowered by having internal boundaries.

Being the ‘highly functioning depressed’ person that I am, I continue to be open to the possibility of growth through my life experiences and the written word even if I am supposed to look at those experiences and my reactions to them through the eyes of my “inner child.”

The author says that in modern psychology, researcher began to understand how profoundly the emotional trauma of early childhood affects a person as an adult. He said that they realized that if not healed, these early childhood emotional wounds, and the sub-conscious attitudes adopted because of them, would dictate the adult’s reaction to, and path through life. So, he says, we walk around looking and trying to act like adults, while reacting to life out of the deep emotional wounds and attitudes of childhood.

So, I suppose that it was my 7 year old inner child that threw a gigantic,screamin’ hissy fit today when I found out this morning that my beloved indoor kitty, Grayson was missing after being left outside all night.

The pain is unbearable. My kitty is lost. He’s never coming back. No, I don’t want another kitty. I want Grayson. He’s soft and he loves being carried like a baby.

It’s the stern adult mother in me who wants to strangle my adult daughter who began allowing Grayson to go out on the front porch with her while she smokes, despite me telling her repeatedly not to let him go outside. It got where she’d let him stay out there longer and longer, as he’d be soaking up the sun or enjoying the fresh air while cooling off under the bench on our front porch. He won’t leave she said.

Today, she’s saying, “He’ll come back Mom!”

The money conscious adult in me is counting every dime I’ve spent keeping that cat alive in the past two years.

The little girl is saying “Who cares about what it costs! Just bring him home to me! Let’s put up flyers! Can we offer a reward for his return?” as she continues to cry.

Have you seen my pretty kitty?

My "Ah-ha" Moment

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 21:46:45 GMT

Years ago, I had a very simple, yet important life lesson that I’ve NEVER forgotten. Because I was horribly embarrassed by my stupidity and the shame of the incident back then, I didn’t share it with anyone, until yesterday. It was just perfect timing to tell the story to Abbie and her friend Katie, as we drove back to home from Bakersfield.

But…first I will share the old life lesson that would forever change my thinking and behavior………….

While returning from a long, boring trip down Interstate-5 from Sacramento and having smoked way too many cigarettes to help pass the time, I stopped for some fresh air and a bite to eat at Anderson’s Pea Soup Restaurant. It’s a popular tourist stop along the highway, with a large gift shop and super clean restrooms.

I pulled into a parking place, and noticed how full the ashtray was in my car. I still had a couple hours to drive, and I knew the ashtray couldn’t hold much more. I opened the door of my fancy, Nissan 280Z sports car and casually dumped the nasty, smelly cigarette butts out on the ground and then I started to snap the ashtray back in place.

It was then I heard his elevated voice and looked into his knowing eyes. “PIG!” the older gentleman said disgustedly as he stared at me and my pile of litter with awful contempt! He then walked away as I lowered my head in shame!

As Oprah says, “It was my Ah-ha moment!“ What was I thinking? Why did I so casually spill such offending litter on the grounds of a public place? As a child, I was a Girl Scout, and we were taught to leave every place we visited, better than we found it. Leave nothing but footprints, our leaders would say!

Being called a such a derogatory name rocked me to my very soul. The shame I felt for being so careless with Mother Earth and my surroundings was HUGE!

NEVER, EVER in my life would I allow anything more than a teardrop to fall to the ground! Thus began my life’s mantra! It was something I’d teach my children, without revealing the story until now.

Whenever we finished playing at the park, I’d make them pick up other people’s trash to leave the place better than we found it! They’d always grumble, but Papa and I would also do our part. While at work, rather than stepping over litter, and walking by, I’d pick it up and place it in the nearest trashcan.

So, today I pay attention to litter along the highways and wonder how people can carelessly drop trash along our beautiful roads. My younger children and I have participated in picking up trash and debris along the roads during our town’s organized efforts. I am always amazed at the bags of trash that accumulate along roadways, when community minded souls do their part.

And…yesterday, I was being my community minded self….a totally reformed litterER. I just had to do it. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity!!!

Here’s what happened……..

As we were stuck in Bakersfield’s early evening traffic, waiting to turn onto the freeway, Abbie commented with the appropriate amount of indignation, about a woman in a car opposite of us as she intentionally dropped a wadded up piece of paper out of her car window. I perked up, looked and saw the rather large piece of paper on the ground next to her car as she waited in stopped traffic.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when she carelessly DID IT AGAIN as I glared at her with all the disgust I could muster. Her male passenger noticed me staring, pointed it out to her and she turned to look at me.

I powered down my window and yelled “PIG!” directly at her.

It was at that point that Abbie began to panic as the woman, who happened to be African-American, turned incredibly animated. Abbie was aghast that I would confront someone of her ethnicity, and she thought we’d be shot any second! She was begging me to mind my own business! I was undeterred! It didn’t matter to me what color this careless person was, nor was I concerned for my safety.

I simply yelled “PIG” again and powered up my window as the young, crazy-acting woman proceeded to berate me for confronting her about her misdeed.

I just smiled as I couldn’t hear her!

After working in a prison for 25 years, I don’t get too excited about much. So I calmly looked at her, and gave her the best obscene gesture I’ve ever done! A SOLID, FIRM MIDDLE FINGER, WITH THE APPROPRIATE AMOUNT OF SMIRK TO GO ALONG WITH IT!

It was soooo unlike me, but so damn satisfying!! The light then changed to green and I drove on to the freeway headed home.

It was then I shared the story of my dumping the cigarettes on the ground all those years ago. The girls and I had a lot of laughs as we headed back up the mountain.

Abbie said she doubted that the young woman I called a PIG had quite the same life changing reaction that I did.

Oh well, I tried!

And…..in closing, a reminder……..PLEASE DON’T LITTER!!

Easter/Spring Blessings,

Lisa

I am fine........for the most part!!!

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 21:52:47 GMT

Dear Journal Friends! I am back, and fine! Thanks for your concern and comments! I apologize for disappearing as it were! So much has/is going on that I put my journal at the bottom of my priorities! So much to tell and there's so much to write about! And, I think my retirement funk is about lifting..after all this time...as it's been nearly two years! So, I may join you a little more frequently now! If any of you regulars have MySpace, and want to befriend me, I am spending some time there as well. Please send me an email here at the AOL with your MySpace info so we can connect!

Love and Peace!

Lisa

Happy February 6th!

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 17:12:11 GMT

I could think of worse things to die from than endometrial cancer.

Fire would probably top the list. Yeah, I definitely do not want to die by fire or even be slightly singed at the outskirts of some colorful dancing flames, toasting whatever happens to be in its path.

Drowning has never appealed to me either, but from what they say, it can be rather peaceful. Just exactly how did “they” make that determination?

However, my idea of peaceful, is being about oh……85 semi-healthy years old and one sunny morning, the cheerful staff in my beautifully assisted living community enter my room (<remember that my dear children) to give me my first daily dose of meds and discover that I’ve died quietly in the night. Simple, quiet and hopefully not too messy. What in the death department could possibly be more pleasant than that?

So, where is she going with all of this morbid talk you might ask? I am getting there. I am just pretty slow when I am this depressed. Besides all the drama makes for a good story and maybe someday my great, great, great children will want to read it.

Anyway, February 6, 2007 was a pretty shitty day for both me and my eldest child. It just so happens it was her 34th birthday and I was not emotionally or physically able to function well enough to get it together for a card, much less presents or cake and ice cream. I’ve promised a better, and big celebration later, but if it’s one thing my kids KNOW about me, is I expect at least somewhat of a remembrance on THE DAY and then we can have the additional party later. Tam has grown up with the same expectation. I and most of her other loved ones, really let her down.

In her heart of hearts, I know that she fully understands that it was hard for me to be in a partying mood. Considering at the gynecologist that morning, he used some foot long torture device, without the benefit of anesthesia to clip a sample of my uterus for a biopsy. A biopsy is necessary because women who are post menopausal and suddenly begin bleeding again are presenting symptoms that MAY be cancer he so eloquently explained. Since that was the 2nd biopsy for such symptoms in as little as two years, I would have rather elected for the hysterectomy at that point, but he said he hadn’t scheduled quite enough time during that appointment. Instead, he tortured me. I didn’t like it last time, and I sure as HELL didn’t think it felt any better this time. So, I spent the rest of the day in bed, somewhat in her honor. Since it was her birthday and everything. I swear though, childbirth----breech childbirth in Tam’s case------ was easier than a uterine biopsy-with uh….two samples for good measure!!!!

Always thinking’ I said to the good doctor….”So Doc, let’s just say this doesn’t come back as cancer and considering this is the 2nd time in a two year period that I’ve had uterine bleeding without a positive diagnosis for cancer…….how about that we just do a hysterectomy anyway??”

He looked at me like there were worse things in life to put up with than wearing a maxi-pad at 53 years old and said absolutely NOT.

Okay, I said….thinking that I’ve got ammo for you and your HMO and I am not afraid to use it…….try this………….TWO, YES TWO SISTERS WHO HAVE DIED OF CANCER AT THE AGE OF 39. I don’t think for a minute that a prophylactic surgery such as that is an unreasonable thing to consider. Especially when most women who get uterine cancer are between 40-60 years old.

Anyway, at this point I am going to wait for the results of my torture test and then we’ll take it from there. In the mean time, would you say a little prayer for me and some big HAPPY BIRTHDAY’S TO TAMMY!

Love you all, Lisa

Hello Again

Thu, 11 Jan 2007 19:08:44 GMT

To my dear internet friends who've inquired, I am still here.

I've been somewhere between enjoying my retirement and a recluse, yet not feeling motivated to write. It's not for a lack of subject material, because so much has happened since I last took the time to pour out my thoughts and despair.

(Geez...August of 2006 was my last entry here in my beloved AOL journal)

Perhaps it's a good thing that I haven't felt the overwhelming urge to purge (no pun intended) my brain of those life experiences and enter them here for my later review. Maybe I have appropriately dealt with any of the issues that have caused me hurt or pain. I am certainly giving it my best shot.

My outlook on life, my life in particular, teeters back and forth between outstanding ("How can you get any more positive?" says Ab) and some down time that my therapist says is my inner child needing comfort. The rational adult in me has decided it's way past time to take off these extra pounds-more of which have accumulated since "retiring." I am shocking my body by actually doing some housework....and um.....exercise, plus eating Atkin's style, since that seems to work for me.

I have been in a vicious circle of reclusive behavior-hiding from friends and former co-workers due to my weight-which has added more weight and the tendency to be even more reclusive, since I live in a very small town.

Now, I have my kids do the grocery shopping. As a certified control freak, that was a real change. At first it was an effort to get them to participate in the home making/house keeping process as I was "retired." Then I got where I really liked not having that chore......putting each item in my cart...taking each item out of the cart to put it on the cashier's carousel, loading all of it up in the car, taking it out of the car, and unpacking it to put it all away. Arrgggghhh! Then, my lack of activity led to me being housebound, when I wasn't traveling-and all of this, including a fondness for everything sweet, contributed to the weight gain.

It's time for a big change. I am determined. I've even started a daily food journal.

Well, better go for now as I have a meeting regarding Ab's school.

Oh and later....I will tell you about my incredible, beautiful grandson, Slade Harrison Flyboy. <---ficticious last name of course.

Take care!

On the road again..........

Fri, 26 May 2006 17:12:48 GMT

I have more stories in my head about my recent Oklahoma visit, but I will have to get to them later as I am off again tomorrow on another trip! Gosh this retirement life is exhausting! I'm heading to the outskirts of Nashville to find my new dream home, near Fly Boy's house. Now that I have a laptop with wireless connection, I may be able to do a few entries while I'm gone. If not, I will catch up with everything when I get back! Take care everyone!

He's Home Again

Fri, 26 May 2006 16:54:04 GMT

We arrived at the well-kept old cemetery just a few minutes late for our appointment after experiencing some minor problems with the directions we were provided. Seems there’s more than one road with the same name leading to different places. We wanted the country road with the same name that didn’t run next to the railroad tracks.

Despite the many times I’d been there with my father, I would not have been able to find it on my own, so we were thankful for the basic directions and the fact everyone involved had cell phones.

As a California girl, I had to laugh at our situation which sounded just like one of those commercials I’ve heard…..Ok…you are going to come to a fork in the road, actually 3 forks…you don’t want to turn on that first one…just go about 50 yards till you come to the second fork and turn left there. If you find that you are at the top of the hill…there’s an old white house with a green tractor in the field…you have gone too far. So turn around and go back to the corner and turn right…No white house on the corner? It’s a two story red brick with a big stack of hay in the field? Ok….I know exactly where you are. Just stop right there and I will come and get ‘ya!

Mr. Reese, the caretaker for Upper Camp Creek Cemetery looked as if he was in his 70s and appeared to be in much better shape physically than any of us. His face was weathered from years at the “Highway Department” from which he’d retired. He stood tall and strong on that sunny Monday morning, as he thrust the post hole digger into the red Eastern Oklahoma soil where so many of my ancestors are buried.

He had a genuine reverence for the departed and their families, giving his sympathy for our “loss.” Before he started digging at the exact spot I‘d selected between the headstones of my infant half-brothers, he asked my permission to use that particular tool since our urn measured only about 3 inches high. It seemed a perfect choice to me. I certainly wasn’t expecting a bull dozer for this little chore, but I guess he felt we might find a post hole digger somewhat irreverent. My only concern was that the hole was deep enough at about 2 and a half feet. Mr. Reese assured me that it would be fine and secure with the granite headstone I was about to order, in place right above. As if on cue, Mr. Reese gave us a few minutes alone.

My Uncle Lee handed me the urn, and after a minute or so, I passed it to my Aunt Mary to hold, which was my idea of some type of ceremony. When she handed it back, I dropped to my knees and gently placed Papa’s urn in his beloved Oklahoma resting place. I scraped some of the red dirt over it with my hands and rose to my feet when Mr. Reese appeared with a shovel and asked if I wanted to use it. With tears in my eyes, I pulled more of the earth over my father’s ashes, then passed it to Lee for his turn.

I was burying a part of my father, but they were burying a sibling; someone they’d had in their life for so much longer than I. My heart ached for them to have experienced such a loss and such difficult grief; a feeling I know too well having buried two of my sisters in the past few years.

We each thanked Mr. Reese with a donation to the fund for the upkeep of the cemetery, which he gladly accepted. We then headed to town to purchase the granite marker, which Mr. Reese offered to place at no charge.

I left Eastern Oklahoma knowing that I accomplished something that my father always wanted, a final resting place near where he was born. Because as he neared death in August 2004, he wanted to make things easier on his family by saying “Just cremate me and bury me here in California.”

I think he’d be proud to know I was able to do both.

An Oklahoma Trip

Sun, 30 Apr 2006 18:28:33 GMT

"Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality."

~Emily Dickenson

About a year ago, when Fly Boy was home from Iraq for his mid-tour “vacation” I headed to North Carolina to visit him, with a stop over in OKC to visit with my beautiful and incredible paternal Grandmother. I left OKC thinking that would be the last time I would see her alive, since she was nearing 89 years on this earth.

When I was heading back to California, we looked into each other’s eyes and I could see that she too felt it was our last goodbye. She had survived two strokes and was using a walker, but she was still pretty sharp and happily living in an assisted living community with her own belongings around her.

Since that visit, she’s deteriorated greatly. A broken leg, nearly at the hip- requiring surgery and she hasn’t walked since. Kidney failure; and dialysis 3 times per week. Weight loss to skin and bones, and horrific bed sores. We call her the Energizer Grandma-she keeps going, and going and going, despite her physical condition and the lack of quality care she received in the “skilled care facility“ that her situation required. She’s now in a new nursing facility that I hope will take better care of her than the last one. That’s what I am hoping to see, when I arrive there next week.

In a perfect world, one of her family members would be able to care for her at home.

But, her remaining children are in their mid to late 60s with their own significant health problems. A few years back she refused to relocate to California with Papa and I, which was probably best, considering his poor health and subsequent death. I would have been taking care of the both of them.

My Uncle Lee and I are heading there next week to see her and my Aunt Mary, who‘s recently broken her shoulder. While we are there, we plan to head toEastern Oklahoma and visit the graves of long gone family-a tradition with my dad. This is my first trip to the cemeteries without him, which will be somewhat strange, and also my first trip to the cemeteries with my Uncle Lee, who‘s never been quite the cemetery fan, unlike Papa.

While we are there, we will bury a small urn of Papa’s ashes in the Camp Creek Cemetery, next to his two infant son’s sites. I think he’d be happy to know that some of his ashes are in the red dirt of his beloved Eastern Oklahoma.

As I cannot take the urn on the plane, since it can’t be unsealed for inspection and its shape could easily be mistaken for a hand grenade, (yikes!) I have appropriately packaged the urn to be sent via the USPS and will mail it tomorrow.

The urn is about 3 inches tall and wrapped securely with bubble wrap and placed inside a ziplock sandwich bag. Just in case, I put my Aunt Mary‘s address inside the ziplock bag as I‘d hate to know Papa‘s ashes were lost in transit, if the box was damaged. I then cushioned it all with tissue and tightly packed it inside a small, heavy cube shaped box. Lastly as required, the label must identify the contents as “Human Ashes” and, so it is ready.

Aunt Mary will check with a mortuary in the area to see what regulations, if any are required to bury the ashes in that old cemetery and make the arrangements. While there, I will purchase a small marker for the site and ask that the mortuary put it in place when it is finished.

Papa would have done the same for any of us.

Pam-One Girl's Head Noise

Sat, 29 Apr 2006 17:41:27 GMT

I just found out about Pam's death. What a sad loss for her family and for us in J-land. Rest in total peace Pam. We'll miss you.

Creating my reality.......

Sat, 29 Apr 2006 16:20:09 GMT

This morning I fed my cats something called UPSTREAM DREAM by Meow Mix. Somehow that sounds a little obscene. I bet the salmon would think so too.

All the books I’ve read lately have a common theme along the lines of creating your own reality, “calling forth” what you want in life, etc. So, since I entered the HGTV’s Dream Home give-away about a zillion times, and have now determined I am not one of the 3 finalists with a key……………..I fully expect to be one of those who wins some of the “thousands” of dollars they are giving away to others tonight on the “live” show. (This journal entry is also another way of “calling forth” what I want----am I into this or what?) Anyway, look for my name!

And, since I am not the winner of the HGTV Dream Home, I am creating my own reality and searching for my dream home……….in Tennessee.

Yep.

Since Fly Boy and Fall Girl; who are about to provide me with my new baby grandson-are living in Tennessee while Fly Boy’s stationed at Ft. Campbell, I’ve decided to relocate to be near them. I am so excited about the change and I haven’t even visited the area yet! There’s really not much holding me here on my beloved mountain anymore. My oldest daughter has moved home and she also is open to the move and a new start in her life. Ab may be the holdout, but since she’s elected to make the poor choices that she has in the past year or so, (including testing positive for a seriously controlled substance this week at her school) I am not letting her vote. Perhaps such a change will do her good as well.

Fly Boy and I have been checking out new/newer houses online and the prices are unbelievable, compared to those here in inflated California. I can buy a lot more house for my money in Tennessee and maybe even afford to put in a swimming pool for Ab.

So, one of the first things to do in my retirement life is to get this house in shape to be sold. I’ve created a “To Do” list and have decided to also concentrate on de-cluttering my house; paring down my possessions. Less to move and some garage sale bucks in my pocket!

But, for now…I am heading down the mountain for a girl’s day out.

More later!