All I can do

I guess this is one of those posts I just want to write down so I don't forget.  A stream of consciousness post because that's all I can muster right now.

Never mind my insane head cold.  I stopped taking the pseudo-fed 3 days ago because I seriously couldn't function while on it.

When my friend, J's husband passed away suddenly, at 40, I knew that her world, hell, all of our worlds were going to be completely different afterward.  I knew that she would be lonely, that she would be angry, that she would get depressed, that grieving would come at her in crazy and unexpected ways.

I expected that she would be pissed off at me at various times, because she was grieving, because I was not, because my husband was still alive.  Despite the ups and downs that every marriage goes through, I knew full well she'd give anything to continue those ups and downs for another minute, instead of just reminiscing.  I really expected all of it.

But it's still hard.  It's hard to know that the hurt she feels is something I can't take from her.  It's something that wallops her and nobody can shield her from those waves.

So I know that when I've hurt her feelings, or when she thinks I have hurt her feelings, it's not really about me, and it's not really that I've done anything wrong, it's just that she's raw and grieving and it's painful.  The only way to not expose her to any perceived hurt from me is to distance myself from her life.  I love her too much to do that.

But it totally sucks in the meantime.  To know that she's pissed, at me, for no reason, and that any other person can look at the situation and know that she's drowning but can't accept any help, that is painful for us all.  Because we all love her.  And we all want to help her.  But if she closes herself off, and can't let herself be fallible or vulnerable, or open to the love and support that we all wish to share with her, then we have to let her be for now.

I wish it were different.  For J.  For me.  For the rest of us who can only stand by and wish we could do something MORE for her, for us.  I wish it weren't so painful for all of us to bear the brunt of this grief. 

I am glad that we, as her group of friends, can recognize that it isn't a fault of our own.  For most of my life, I am willing to bet that I would've seen this as something I was responsible for, something that I would have to fix.

I only wish that I could.  For now, I can continually offer my vibes from afar.  Until that forgiveness is given, that's the best I can do.

It's Not Easy

Let's be honest. Ethics is not for wimps.


It's not easy being a good person.

It's not easy to be honest when it might be costly, to play fair when others cheat, or to keep inconvenient promises.

It's not easy to stand up for our beliefs and still respect differing viewpoints.

It's not easy to control powerful impulses, to be accountable for our attitudes and actions, to tackle unpleasant tasks, or to sacrifice the now for later.

It's not easy to bear criticism and learn from it without getting angry, to take advice, or to admit error.

It's not easy to feel genuine remorse and apologize sincerely, or to accept apologies graciously and truly forgive.

It's not easy to stop feeling like a victim, to resist cynicism, or to make the best of every situation.

It's not easy to be consistently kind, to think of others first, to judge generously, or to give the benefit of the doubt.

It's not easy to be grateful or to give without concern for reward or gratitude.

It's not easy to fail and still keep trying, to learn from failure, to risk failing again, to start over, to lose with grace, or to be glad of another's success.

It's not easy to look at ourselves honestly and be accountable, to avoid excuses and rationalizations, or to resist temptations.

No, being a person of character isn't easy. That's why it's such a lofty goal and an admirable achievement.

 - Michael Josephson

Exercise update

We had dentist appointments this morning so Handsome had to trade shifts with someone and he closed. Which means that I got to work late, and worked through lunch, but I didn't have to take the normal bus home. So, I went to the gym after work. My ipod was dead so I plugged in to the treadmill which has the TV on it.

About 15 minutes into My Name is Earl, I remembered that I had given up TV for Lent.

Whoops.

30 minutes on the treadmill. Scale read 145.8.

Maybe I shouldn't take the weekend off after all. Today for lunch: salad with a scoop of tuna and an apple.

Exercise journal

Feb. 23 did a yoga class that my work offers. I haven't been to it in a while because since I joined the gym, I feel like that's where I get the most bang for my buck. (Well, if the yoga is free, there is no buck, but you get what I mean?)

Interestingly, I read in the Eat Right/Cook Right/Live Right 4 Your Type books that Type As tend to get the most benefit from exercises like yoga, tai chi, etc. as opposed to sweating it out on the treadmill at the gym.

I am still going to mix it up, alternating yoga with cardio and weights when I can.

Feb. 24 I did 30 mins on the elliptical. Scale said 145.0. Moving in the right direction.

Feb. 25 ate breakfast for lunch with a friend. So good, bacon, eggs and pancakes. Man, my belly hurt the rest of the day.

Feb. 26 had a meeting during lunch. Had a turkey club sandwich which was yummy. That night we went to dinner with some friends for Denver's Restaurant Week. This is a great deal where you can have a multi-course dinner for two for $52.80. We went to Rodizio's which is a Brazilian steakhouse and the waiters come to your table with swords skewering cuts of meat. It is all you can eat. And boy, did we eat. And eat. And eat some more.

That night, Handsome and I lay in bed just moaning (and not in a good way). It was punishment for all that good food. The weekend brought no good exercise to speak of. Maybe I needed a weekend off?

Dreaming

Had this crazy dream last night where I was hanging out with my high school girlfriend E. and some of E's friends but her friends were freaking me out. I think my high school boyfriend L. was there or I was talking to him on the phone and he was going to come hang out with me. I left E. and her weird friends and drove to my college girlfriend H's house, which I was house-sitting. (it totally wasn't H's real house, but it was seriously an awesome house!) There was a group of bikers (like bicyclists, not motorcycles) who had stopped at the house to grab a bite to eat before setting off on a big ride. I got a text message from E. which said "I expected Reece to leave but didn't think YOU would." Obviously, E. was pissed that I had left. Then my best friend J. showed up at the house and he and I were hanging out, eating grub (salad) with the bicyclists in the kitchen. Then I woke up.

I told my girlfriend E. about this dream and she said that what struck her was that it was so busy! She asked me if I have been under stress lately?

Hmmmm..... Nothing I can't suppress in a conscious state! Obviously my sub/unconscious has some stuff to work through. E. and J. both are very good friends. I can totally be myself with them. H. is someone who I have been friends with but we aren't really close. I feel like a doofus sometimes when I am around her. And L.? Well, we dated for a year in high school, and he was a great boyfriend when he wasn't freaked out about everything. On some level, evidently, I see him as someone who could take care of me. That's comforting.

What's interesting to me, and this has been true for as long as I've known him, is that Handsome rarely makes an appearance in my dreams. I wonder what that means?

Catching Up

Like writing in a journal, it's hard to pick up where you left off. So much has happened over the last few months.

In August, I divorced my father. I turned it ALL over to God, because I was done. This email I received was the last communication before I decided I didn't need those brick marks on my forehead from running into the same wall over and over and over again:

I can’t believe I’ve let this go this far. Just when I think there’s some hope for us you show me that the road is much longer than I could imagine.

This year has been horrifying. I’ve never been more at war spiritually than in these last eight months. Your stepmom has been fighting for her life and I’ve been fighting for my sanity. I’m proof that God never gives us more than we can handle, but believe me He better have His hand on you while you’re going through it. But this letter isn’t about me. It’s about you.

I have never really looked at your selfishness in quite this bright of a light before. I’ve prayed to God plenty about you and He’s told me what I know, and that’s that I love you with all my heart. No matter how you act. But I don’t have to like how you act. And over these last months I’ve really gotten to dislike how you act very much. I can’t believe you’ve sunken to the depths of self centeredness as far as you’ve gone. I can take a lot of what you dish out in my direction, maybe because I’m your father, but this time you really screwed up. My wife was laying there in the hospital struggling to live and not one card, not one call, no flowers, no concern. And I know where you’re going with this right now that I should have called you and kept you informed. I don’t have to call. You do.

This world does not revolve around you as you think it does. You have this self centered sense of entitlement about you that really fowls the air. Today it is really showing up strong. I’m emailing this to your office because I don’t think you’ll read it if I send it to your home email. I don’t want you to get fired for using company email for personal use, and you will be fired because even that boss you have won’t tolerate an employee that has a sense of entitlement like you have for long. And they will probably use your personal usage of company email as the excuse without having to confront you with the truth as I am now.

So go ahead and bond with your support group and cry about this letter to them. They’ll all feel sorry for how your father has hurt you again, and sit around and agree how bad he is, again. And nod in subtle agreement.

I pray that you discover the truth abut yourself, and soon. I pray God will show you that you can be loved without being liked. That love isn’t a ticket to act any way you see fit.

Yours in Christ,
Dad

As vitriolic as this email was, it was also freeing. It let me know that I could go on with my life, be free of the guilt that my relationship with my father was a failure.

But really? How does somebody rip someone a new a$$hole and then sign the letter "Yours in Christ"? I don't get it.

So, of course, when we found out she was sick, we sent a card to the hospital and again when she got transferred out of the hospital. My dad and I didn't talk again for another couple of months.

My stepmom passed away Nov. 16. My dad left me a voicemail. Obviously sad, but not tragic. Handsome and I made plans to go to Montana for the memorial service. I was a bundle of nerves but very glad I went. Since then, I feel more free and expressive with my dad and our relationship. I loved my stepmom, but she was always intimidating somehow. I feel like I'm on level ground with my dad now. I text him on his phone (he hasn't learned to text back). He's grieving, and that lets me see his human side. I am a lot like him, I've learned. We both make assumptions that usually end up completely untrue. Shame.

I've grown a lot in the last couple months. I was struck down, afraid, sad, liberated and now, just trying to figure out this new relationship. I feel confident again. Whatever happens, I'm glad things have changed. Life is short, we must make amends while there are still people to whom the amends should be made.

Mean Girls

I loved the movie. It struck true to so many chords from middle and high school. I loved how the protagonist was able to break free of her own self-inflicted painful chaos in order to remember who she was inside.

When anonymous commenters viciously attack your very being, no matter what anyone says, it hurts. No matter that, deep down inside, you know what they say isn't true, it still hurts. Even though we know that we are loved children of God, people can still be mean and sometimes, it worms its way inside our souls and psyches and makes us question God. Why does He make mean people? Why does he make people mean? Why am I not strong enough to resist the lies and deception I'm faced with?

My girl Amy Beth needs some encouragement right now. Please visit and let her know that mean girls are not worth the pain they inflict.

Neither are mean boys, for that matter.

Brilliant

Playing the numbers game

Isn't it funny how the littlest things can really blow up and change our thinking - about our day, about ourselves...?

Our company brought in representatives from our insurance company to run tests on employees who wished to have their numbers. They took measures for weight, blood pressure, BMI, body fat percentage, glucose and cholesterol.

They do this because they want to encourage healthy lifestyles for employees so that we may work for the machine longer. I get it.

I feel quite healthy in general. Low blood pressure, which is odd for a law firm secretary.

My blood glucose level was well below the normal range. This is great news, because I was borderline gestational diabetic 10 years ago. I'm always suspect regarding those levels and how my blood sugar may fluctuate throughout the day. It's good to know that I'm not diabetic.

Apparently I'm just fat. I always struggle with my weight, it's so easy to struggle with! I would like to drop 10 pounds but would LOVE to drop 15. Using weight and height, they calculated my Body Mass Index. This number doesn't tell you anything except what your weight divided by your height is. Frankly, I think they should toss out the BMI number entirely.

Then they took my body fat percentage. Apparently, one out of every three cells in my body is a fat cell based on the results of that test. How much does that suck? For females, 18-39 years old, the ideal range is 14-23%, 40-59 years old it's 18-30%, and I'm up there with the 60+ year olds. Actually, it's off the chart. Sad, isn't it?

I have been really focusing lately on getting healthy. The truth is, I eat really healthy. I have ever since I found out high cholesterol runs in my family. And I knew I could lose the weight if I just exercised more. So I've been hitting the circuit at the Rec Center after work, and that has really been great.

I would advise other people to not base their self-esteem on what some numbers on a sheet of paper say. But I have a hard time not doing the same thing. I guess I need to view it as a personal challenge: to lower every one of those numbers each month.

So, wish me luck. It's time to take charge of my health. I want a HOT body, but more than that, I want low numbers all around. Lower the numbers, the body will follow?

Stuffy haiku

Left nostil is plugged
No, wait, now it's the right one
Cold meds do not help.

Remembering

In Denver, it was 6:46 a.m. when the first plane hit. I was out of the shower listening to my favorite morning show, Dom and Jane. They usually had the Today Show on in their studio and suddenly, they were talking about how a plane inexplicably just flew into one of the buildings.

17 minutes later, the second plane hit. I continued to listen in shock, not turning on the TV for fear I would miss my bus to the office.

Everyone on that bus was talking about what happened. Those who hadn't heard were filled in. Those who had watched news channels that morning relayed the horrific scene in New York.

As soon as I got into the office, I pulled up Mapquest to get a picture of the buildings. The buildings imploded shortly after.

I called my boss, who just the night before had supper with me because he was leaving town to go be with his family. I cooked for him when he had no one else to eat with. I caught him on his cell phone, cruising oblivious down the highway toward Phoenix.

"Turn on your radio, find a talk radio station." We got cut off.

The head honchos at the office determined that we were not fully safe in our office building, being so near one more than 50 stories high. We didn't yet know whether all skyscrapers in the country were being targeted or if the damage was yet complete.

They told us to go home.


So, we did.


Most of us spent the next eleventy hours glued to the television, watching replays of what happened that morning. The planes, the smoke, the fires, the ash, the horror.

This morning, I woke up and looked around my neighborhood. There are flags flying today where there were none yesterday.

I thought about the women who were pregnant at that time, whose babies lost their fathers that day. They'd be in first, maybe second grade this fall.

It was incomprehensible then. And no less so now.

Question about baby showers

My girlfriend is pregnant with number 3. Her eldest, a girl, is 6 and her youngest, a boy, is 3.

I'd like to throw her a shower for number 3. My cohorts are questioning the etiquette.

Do you think it's okay to throw a shower, even if it's just a diaper and onesie thang, for the mom-to-be of number 3?

Me? I like a party! I believe each child's life should be celebrated! I know diapers are expensive! I am positive that this mom-to-be would appreciate the gesture.

Please, weigh in. Thank you!

Milk isn't the only thing that does a body good

Do you ever have those stupid fights with your spouse? The ones that, while they are occurring, you're thinking to yourself, I need to blog about this to get perspective because I can not believe how asinine this is?

Handsome is the type of person who tends to run late for appointments. He just doesn't have a concept of how long a task will take him. When working at a side job (he is a plumber), he'll tell me the job will take him an hour; I'll immediately place the time at 2 and a half.

I hate to be late. I feel like my life is out of control and I get all panicky and breathless if I am running late. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but that's just the way I am.

Last night, I left work early to catch a bus which would get me home early, because I volunteer at our church youth group at 6:00 on Tuesdays. Handsome was supposed to get off work (the punch-a-clock real job, not a side job) at 4:00. At 5:30, as the bus passed Handsome's place of employment, I see our vehicle in the parking lot.

Uh oh.

I call him, get his voicemail and leave a message. Something like "hello, you're supposed to be home right now, why are you still at work, you need to come home as soon as you get this message, it's important, I love you, call me, bye."

Of course, he didn't get home until 10 minutes to 6:00. And I was late to youth group.

I must be PMS-ing because I go from zero to ticked off in no time flat. All I wanted was an apology from him saying anything like "I'm sorry that I was late and made you late."

But NOOOO. I got silence. And brooding. And evil stares.

But apparently I had no right to be angry. I got the whole spiel about how he had no intention of staying at work an extra hour and a half past his shift, it's not like he WANTED to be there. Blah blah blah.

Finally, around 9:00, he gave me the sarcastic apology for making me late. But I was still supposed to feel sorry for him for having to stay late at work (his choice, not a boss's).

ANYHOO...

I feel better for having written it all down and living through the experience. I know I cannot control him or make him on time for things. I have tried (really, I have!) to be less anxious when it comes to keeping a schedule. It's just a character flaw in me, I guess.

This morning, a daily email I receive was just what I needed to read. Here it is.

Forgiveness is good for you — in fact, it may be the most selfishly selfless thing you can do. Study after study has found that forgiving those who have hurt us isn't weak — it's actually one of the best decisions we can make for ourselves.

People who are able to forgive experience lower rates of depression and have less chronic pain and stronger immune systems — as well as better relationships. Part of this can be explained by a decreased stress response. When you dwell on bad experiences, your body registers it as stress and launches a cascade of biochemical reactions. High blood pressure and elevated cortisol levels can result.

But forgiveness is also emotional — even spiritual. Many people learn to forgive when they are older and have perhaps had to come to terms with their own mortality. As we age we gain a different perspective on our problems and, often, on the person who has caused us pain. We are all human and we all make mistakes.

However, be careful of associating "forgive" with "forget." Forgiveness does not mean you forget what happened. Rather, you direct your energy to the future and leave the past where it belongs. Don't forget where you've come from, just keep moving forward.

So, Handsome, you're forgiven. I still love you, even if you totally drive me crazy sometimes.

The girls have their own agenda

I peed on a stick today. Just to check. You know, because after tracking my temps for 13 cycles I thought that Handsome and I had finally done the trick this month.

My girls are making themselves known to me, in a way no other PMS cycle has before.

Alas, only the control line showed on the stick.

Betrayed by my boobs. *sigh*

Part of me wonders if I'm not subconciously sabotaging my chances of getting pregnant. I had wanted to be in a much better financial position before we lost all control of our lives brought a baby into the world. I talked about this with Handsome, who is 7 years older than me and apparently has his own biological clock clanging loudly in his ears.

He just really wants to go ahead, plans be damned.

But I like to plan, and I like to feel in control. I'm open to a baby, I just think I'd be more open later this year, or next year.

Yeah, that doesn't sound convincing, does it? I recognize that wanting to be in control doesn't jive very well with being open to a baby. I recognize that having a baby means that in a lot of ways, your life is truly out of control.

There are so many unknowns when it comes to babies. We cannot afford to have one or the other of us stay at home with baby. We probably cannot afford daycare either! Handsome has so many dreams of beautifying our home and yard, making it hospitable for us and a family, if that's what God plans. I can't imagine much progress being made when we're sleep deprived and totally broke.

Maybe it's just not the right time.

Is it okay that I'm fine with that?

On being human

Sometimes I have this inner war happening between my earlobes. I think that in order to be a good, pious and faithful person, I have to know bunches of bible verses by heart, volunteer for every volunteer opportunity presented, give lots of money in the collection plate, not ever argue with my husband, never cuss, et cetera ad naseum (insert other Latin verbiage here)

I wonder what makes us human, though, if we're all striving to be like God?

Some of us have tattoos. Some smoke cigarettes. Some women (I've heard) even have wine at their kids' play dates!

In response to some of her readers' questions, OMSH says it best:

Christians have “lives” too. We like good times, good movies, good food, and some of us even like a good margarita.

Amen, sister.