So I just finished watching "Green Lantern" (yes, again - Ryan Reynolds in green spandex?? Who wouldn't watch that repeatedly?) and I wanted to give a great big THANK YOU to the writers. Now, I'm sure that when they were putting the storyline together they didn't sit down and think about how the single girl might view the ending, or what deep philosophical lesson she might take from it, or even that it would be any different than any other superhero movie. Ever. But between the half-naked shots of Mr. Reynolds and the distracting green spandex (yay for that) there was a lesson to be learned.
SPOILER ALERT!!!
The superhero leaves at the end.
We've grown up on these stories where the hero swoops in, saves the single and unfortunate girl and they live happily ever after. Every time you put a superhero in a movie there inevitably has to be a love story that goes along with it, and it always culminates with the same damn ending. They end up together. Forever. Or at least through the credits and then on in your mind.
Think about it - as young girls we're read Cinderella. The charming prince (read: hero) saves the girl from a life of wicked slavery. TA-DA! Then there's Sleeping Beauty. No need to rehash that story. Superman, anyone?
So what do we learn as young girls? Every single girl needs a superhero.
But in Green Lantern, Ryan Reynolds leaves. He flies off. With some crazy line about have to be "gone for awhile." And guess what happens then? Nothing. The girl doesn't break down sobbing or dwelling on how her life has now been ruined since the man who just saved her is leaving. She goes on. At least through the credits, and then on in my mind.
Superheroes swoop. They swoop in, they swoop out. They're great for the big stuff but not so fantastic with the day-to-day, not-feeling-so-good, have-mucus-running-down-my-face kinds of stuff. I had a superhero and I remember telling my friends - he's great for the big stuff (he flew out to Ohio when I needed him to be there) but not so great on anything else. Recently he's decided his flight plan would include California once again.
I don't need (nor do I want) a superhero. I'm confident in me - I know that I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. What I want, eventually, is a partner. Someone who can stand next to me in the bad moments, bring me Nyquil when I'm sick, share my successes without feeling overshadowed and partake in my life in every moment, not just the ones he thinks he can save me from. I don't need saving.
Thank you Green Lantern.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Loving, Losing and Life's Reminders
I have a confession - I don't like to lose. Now, most of you reading this just let out some version of a snort and a "no way, really?" but that distaste extends to most areas of my life.
I've been to more funerals in the last 6 months than most people go to in years. I've had to fly home twice in 3 years just to attend one. I'm kind of done with funerals. And those are just the losses that had some concrete service to attend. There have been others...
I've always lived by the philosophy that it's better to feel something than nothing at all. Giving up the losses in my life would mean that I have to also give up the love I received from each of those people. And there is nothing in this world that would make me want that.
But recently I'd gotten to the point where I was in a bit of an emotional crisis. I'd opened my heart and I'm fairly certain it was attacked with a potato masher. Couple that with the multiple losses in a few short weeks (including a recent loss of a very dear friendship) and you have one emotionally-spent Jen. I shut down. It was if my heart finally said, "Enough. I've got nothing left to give. There's nothing left in here to break." Some unconscious part of me realized that if I didn't open my heart again, there would be no risk of loss. That was it, I was done.
It was time for some mind-numbing therapeutic entertainment. I sat down and threw in "The Sweetest Thing." Yes, I know that technically it's a romantic comedy, but the penis song alone is worthy of some laughs. That was what I needed, to escape my own brain for a short moment in time.
And then a crazy thing happened. Life offered me a reminder. There's a scene near the end where Cameron Diaz is leaning against a door repeating, "I will not be afraid." That one line spoke to my core. Here I was, being afraid of hurting. So, if it's good enough for Cameron Diaz, it's good enough for me.
I realized in that moment I couldn't be afraid of opening my heart. I wouldn't give up the moments I had in my past with the people I loved, why would I give up future ones? It's one of life's greatest ironies - you can't have one without the other. You can't have absolute bliss and happiness without risking heartbreak. It's bound to happen sooner or later. You can't experience the love of others if you don't offer love in return.
So for this holiday season, my present to me is the gift of no fear. Feeling something rather than nothing at all. Of course, if I had my way 2012 would be filled with nothing but positive feelings. I am, however, braced for anything that the universe may throw at me.
May you all find love (however you define it) and happiness this holiday season.
I've been to more funerals in the last 6 months than most people go to in years. I've had to fly home twice in 3 years just to attend one. I'm kind of done with funerals. And those are just the losses that had some concrete service to attend. There have been others...
I've always lived by the philosophy that it's better to feel something than nothing at all. Giving up the losses in my life would mean that I have to also give up the love I received from each of those people. And there is nothing in this world that would make me want that.
But recently I'd gotten to the point where I was in a bit of an emotional crisis. I'd opened my heart and I'm fairly certain it was attacked with a potato masher. Couple that with the multiple losses in a few short weeks (including a recent loss of a very dear friendship) and you have one emotionally-spent Jen. I shut down. It was if my heart finally said, "Enough. I've got nothing left to give. There's nothing left in here to break." Some unconscious part of me realized that if I didn't open my heart again, there would be no risk of loss. That was it, I was done.
It was time for some mind-numbing therapeutic entertainment. I sat down and threw in "The Sweetest Thing." Yes, I know that technically it's a romantic comedy, but the penis song alone is worthy of some laughs. That was what I needed, to escape my own brain for a short moment in time.
And then a crazy thing happened. Life offered me a reminder. There's a scene near the end where Cameron Diaz is leaning against a door repeating, "I will not be afraid." That one line spoke to my core. Here I was, being afraid of hurting. So, if it's good enough for Cameron Diaz, it's good enough for me.
I realized in that moment I couldn't be afraid of opening my heart. I wouldn't give up the moments I had in my past with the people I loved, why would I give up future ones? It's one of life's greatest ironies - you can't have one without the other. You can't have absolute bliss and happiness without risking heartbreak. It's bound to happen sooner or later. You can't experience the love of others if you don't offer love in return.
So for this holiday season, my present to me is the gift of no fear. Feeling something rather than nothing at all. Of course, if I had my way 2012 would be filled with nothing but positive feelings. I am, however, braced for anything that the universe may throw at me.
May you all find love (however you define it) and happiness this holiday season.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Single at the Holidays
Just recently someone was telling me her plans for New Year's which involved some fundraising event...meant for singles. She's slightly older than I am (okay, she's in her 50s) and single but she went on and on and ON about this party. Then she says, "You really should do that too. You won't end up alone on New Year's."
Huh?
Okay, okay, okay - I get it. I'm single. It's the holidays. Many holiday gatherings are geared toward the relationship-prone. Invitations come addressed to +1 which, unfortunately, is not a Google+ reference. I just met a guy on a plane who offered to fly me out to Indianapolis for his company holiday party. Yes, you read that correctly. I met the guy on the plane and after 2 hours of conversation he said he'd fly me out to go with him to the party. Apparently, company gatherings for single men can be just as uncomfortable as for single women. But I digress.
I stood there trying to imagine what she was picturing my New Year's Eve was going to be. Did she think I'd be sitting on my couch alternating between crying and shoving large spoonfuls of high fat content ice cream into my mouth as I watched the ball drop all alone wishing beyond all human comprehension that I wasn't single? Really? (Side note: I have actually done that. I'm not superwoman for crying out loud. But not this year, and I didn't really appreciate the assumption.)
Let me point out something here that I thought (until now) was too obvious for words...just because I'm single doesn't mean I'm going to be alone. I actually have New Year's plans. Believe it or not.
So please, please, PLEASE do not pity your single friends at the holidays. Some may be choosing to be single, some may just need your support. But what none of us need is pity (or the pity-invitation).
Happy (Single) Holidays!!!
Huh?
Okay, okay, okay - I get it. I'm single. It's the holidays. Many holiday gatherings are geared toward the relationship-prone. Invitations come addressed to +1 which, unfortunately, is not a Google+ reference. I just met a guy on a plane who offered to fly me out to Indianapolis for his company holiday party. Yes, you read that correctly. I met the guy on the plane and after 2 hours of conversation he said he'd fly me out to go with him to the party. Apparently, company gatherings for single men can be just as uncomfortable as for single women. But I digress.
I stood there trying to imagine what she was picturing my New Year's Eve was going to be. Did she think I'd be sitting on my couch alternating between crying and shoving large spoonfuls of high fat content ice cream into my mouth as I watched the ball drop all alone wishing beyond all human comprehension that I wasn't single? Really? (Side note: I have actually done that. I'm not superwoman for crying out loud. But not this year, and I didn't really appreciate the assumption.)
Let me point out something here that I thought (until now) was too obvious for words...just because I'm single doesn't mean I'm going to be alone. I actually have New Year's plans. Believe it or not.
So please, please, PLEASE do not pity your single friends at the holidays. Some may be choosing to be single, some may just need your support. But what none of us need is pity (or the pity-invitation).
Happy (Single) Holidays!!!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Change of Plans
“If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”
I’m a planner by nature. Never been much of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. Plans on Friday night? Determined by Tuesday. Growing up, I had my entire life planned out. Obviously not down to specifics, but by the time I hit the end of my second year of undergrad I knew where I was headed. I packed everything I owned into my car and moved my life out to California - partially to escape a past, partially to work on that plan (you know the one - marriage, babies, a white picket fence, the “true American dream”). Within a year of settling here I had met the man of my dreams. Even though he and I had our own share of ups and downs and moments when real life began to interfere, I was set on what the rest of my life was going to look like.
6 years ago today, the universe decided to change my plans. No warnings, no “hey Jen, get ready for the chaos that’s about to ensue,” no nothing. Just a change of plans in the form of a car accident. It was as if the universe had taken every mental blueprint I made about my life, threw them up in the air, and the wind took hold and blew them all away. Who was I without my plan?
Perhaps you've been confronted with your own life-altering moments - moments where you're completely lost and have no idea how you'll survive. Perhaps you're in the middle of one right now. Someone just recently asked me how I got through that moment in my life. The truth is, I honestly have no idea. I do know that I had amazing people surrounding me, people encouraging me to take one step forward. Within 24 hours my mom had landed in California with a 1-way ticket in her hand, who put up with my craziness and even dealt with the moment that I threw my cell phone across my living room. And that night I had class, the first night of a new session that I couldn’t miss for fear of being dropped, where I met the professor who became my unofficial hero - who will never truly know just how much he actually saved my life.
Without lectures, he taught me that I had a choice. I had a choice to stay in class that night. I had a choice to let my grief envelope me, which is honestly what I really wanted to do. I had the choice to focus on the plans I had lost, instead of what I had gained. I had the choice to put one foot in front of the other and take the baby steps I needed to squash the chaos around me. I had the choice to turn my loss into something positive - a way to honor this man I loved while working through the pain. I had the choice to pick myself up, dust off my clothing, fix the rips in my knees and start to move forward instead of being stuck in the grief. Don’t get me wrong - I would trade everything to never have been forced to make those choices in my life. But I couldn’t change it.
Life is really just a series of choices. We all get to the point where we’re knocked over, where the universe decides it’s time for a change of plans, where we can’t stop it. We can choose to adapt to those changes or get lost inside them. Our choices are what define us, give us strength, wipe us out, or offer hope. We may not always make the right choice. No one is perfect, and thus there will always be decisions that aren’t technically the best. But we make them. And then we make others. The point is, all we can ever ask for is to choose the best option in any given situation - choosing to be the best version of ourselves and in the process, choosing to put one foot in front of the other.
May your choices today build you up and offer you hope, happiness, peace and love.
I’m a planner by nature. Never been much of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. Plans on Friday night? Determined by Tuesday. Growing up, I had my entire life planned out. Obviously not down to specifics, but by the time I hit the end of my second year of undergrad I knew where I was headed. I packed everything I owned into my car and moved my life out to California - partially to escape a past, partially to work on that plan (you know the one - marriage, babies, a white picket fence, the “true American dream”). Within a year of settling here I had met the man of my dreams. Even though he and I had our own share of ups and downs and moments when real life began to interfere, I was set on what the rest of my life was going to look like.
6 years ago today, the universe decided to change my plans. No warnings, no “hey Jen, get ready for the chaos that’s about to ensue,” no nothing. Just a change of plans in the form of a car accident. It was as if the universe had taken every mental blueprint I made about my life, threw them up in the air, and the wind took hold and blew them all away. Who was I without my plan?
Perhaps you've been confronted with your own life-altering moments - moments where you're completely lost and have no idea how you'll survive. Perhaps you're in the middle of one right now. Someone just recently asked me how I got through that moment in my life. The truth is, I honestly have no idea. I do know that I had amazing people surrounding me, people encouraging me to take one step forward. Within 24 hours my mom had landed in California with a 1-way ticket in her hand, who put up with my craziness and even dealt with the moment that I threw my cell phone across my living room. And that night I had class, the first night of a new session that I couldn’t miss for fear of being dropped, where I met the professor who became my unofficial hero - who will never truly know just how much he actually saved my life.
Without lectures, he taught me that I had a choice. I had a choice to stay in class that night. I had a choice to let my grief envelope me, which is honestly what I really wanted to do. I had the choice to focus on the plans I had lost, instead of what I had gained. I had the choice to put one foot in front of the other and take the baby steps I needed to squash the chaos around me. I had the choice to turn my loss into something positive - a way to honor this man I loved while working through the pain. I had the choice to pick myself up, dust off my clothing, fix the rips in my knees and start to move forward instead of being stuck in the grief. Don’t get me wrong - I would trade everything to never have been forced to make those choices in my life. But I couldn’t change it.
Life is really just a series of choices. We all get to the point where we’re knocked over, where the universe decides it’s time for a change of plans, where we can’t stop it. We can choose to adapt to those changes or get lost inside them. Our choices are what define us, give us strength, wipe us out, or offer hope. We may not always make the right choice. No one is perfect, and thus there will always be decisions that aren’t technically the best. But we make them. And then we make others. The point is, all we can ever ask for is to choose the best option in any given situation - choosing to be the best version of ourselves and in the process, choosing to put one foot in front of the other.
May your choices today build you up and offer you hope, happiness, peace and love.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Friends Don't Let Friends #1
Friends don't let friends date good friends of friends.
I don’t have many rules when it comes to dating except for those concerning basic hygiene, no socks with sandals, and no sleeveless shirts on a first date (thanks to my friend Julie for this one), but this is one rule I’ve managed to stick with for quite some time. I’ve learned, through experience, that the whole friends of friends thing can potentially cause some serious issues. If it doesn’t work you end up dealing with the complete awkwardness when you’re at the same functions and then the phase of what I like to call “friend reallocation” - the time when others have to decide who they like better. And with that comes the dissection of what went wrong. I know this way of dating has worked for some people....I just have never been one of them.
So usually when I hear a good friend start to say something to the effect of, “I have this really great guy friend” I’m already 4 steps out the door before the end of the sentence.
But, in an effort to move this blog along, let me just tell you that I caved on my rule. I decided to give it a whirl. I decided to go out on a date with a "really good friend" of a really good friend. While the date when just fine (He's a good guy and I’m fairly certain I could carry a conversation with a brick wall), by the end of the night we both realized it ended up fitting nicely into the “once and done” category.
So, that brings me back to the whole "friends of friends" dilemma. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go prepare myself for the inevitable, “But why Jen? You guys would have been so PERFECT together...”
I don’t have many rules when it comes to dating except for those concerning basic hygiene, no socks with sandals, and no sleeveless shirts on a first date (thanks to my friend Julie for this one), but this is one rule I’ve managed to stick with for quite some time. I’ve learned, through experience, that the whole friends of friends thing can potentially cause some serious issues. If it doesn’t work you end up dealing with the complete awkwardness when you’re at the same functions and then the phase of what I like to call “friend reallocation” - the time when others have to decide who they like better. And with that comes the dissection of what went wrong. I know this way of dating has worked for some people....I just have never been one of them.
So usually when I hear a good friend start to say something to the effect of, “I have this really great guy friend” I’m already 4 steps out the door before the end of the sentence.
But, in an effort to move this blog along, let me just tell you that I caved on my rule. I decided to give it a whirl. I decided to go out on a date with a "really good friend" of a really good friend. While the date when just fine (He's a good guy and I’m fairly certain I could carry a conversation with a brick wall), by the end of the night we both realized it ended up fitting nicely into the “once and done” category.
So, that brings me back to the whole "friends of friends" dilemma. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go prepare myself for the inevitable, “But why Jen? You guys would have been so PERFECT together...”
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The Rant
“I don’t know Jennifer....it seems like it’s do or die time.”
I stood there dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open just slightly. I was speechless and if you know me you know that happens very rarely. Did I really just hear that? I’m talking, of course, of the well-intentioned person who has once again decided that they hear my biological clocking ticking and need to remind me that I’m getting up there in age. But seriously? It’s so extreme that it’s do or die time? Like the world is going to magically stop rotating if I wait too much longer to start the whole marriage, 2.5 kids, house, white picket fence and a dog idea? I’m actually going to die of singlehood???
First - a disclaimer. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I have, repeatedly. Some times with some good guys, some times with some I-should-have-never-dated-you-in-the-first-place kind of guys. My choice now is quality over quantity. But still, I continue to hear these statements.
Now, imagine for a brief second the possibility that those exact words were heard by someone struggling with infertility. What would that person think of these words - what kind of damage could they have caused?
Every single word we speak, and even the words we leave unspoken, carry incredible amounts of power. One 6-minute phone call in the last few weeks knocked me over for days, simply because of things that were said (and not said) from someone who claims to care about me.
Everyone has a story, and usually we’re not privy to the full non-censored version.
So here’s my story - the deep dark secret that until now I’ve hid from the world. While this health condition I’ve written about in past blogs is not always life-threatening, it is genetic. And if it does appear in a newborn, however remote that possibility may be, it IS almost 100% fatal. I’ve struggled for over a year with whether or not I even want to take that chance. Right now I don't. And even if I did, how in the world do you ask someone else to take on that risk with you? I've only had 2 men in my entire life that I would have ever thought I could - 1 that I did, and 1 that I will never get the chance to.
I tell you this not to induce pity. In fact, that is the exact reason it has remained a secret for so long - that I never want anyone to look at me like that. What I think sometimes we forget is that when we speak, no matter how innocent or well-intentioned our words may be, we misunderstand the impact they can make on someone else. The “but you’re so pretty,” or “you’d make such a great mother,” "why aren't you married," or even “I can’t believe you’re single,” are merely just judgements in disguise of the I-want-you-to-be-happy hooey. And without knowing someone's story, we run the risk of doing irreparable damage. We run the risk of falling into society's expectations. We run the risk of hurting others. Words are powerful, and that power has to be respected.
May your words today heal, not hurt.
I stood there dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open just slightly. I was speechless and if you know me you know that happens very rarely. Did I really just hear that? I’m talking, of course, of the well-intentioned person who has once again decided that they hear my biological clocking ticking and need to remind me that I’m getting up there in age. But seriously? It’s so extreme that it’s do or die time? Like the world is going to magically stop rotating if I wait too much longer to start the whole marriage, 2.5 kids, house, white picket fence and a dog idea? I’m actually going to die of singlehood???
First - a disclaimer. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I have, repeatedly. Some times with some good guys, some times with some I-should-have-never-dated-you-in-the-first-place kind of guys. My choice now is quality over quantity. But still, I continue to hear these statements.
Now, imagine for a brief second the possibility that those exact words were heard by someone struggling with infertility. What would that person think of these words - what kind of damage could they have caused?
Every single word we speak, and even the words we leave unspoken, carry incredible amounts of power. One 6-minute phone call in the last few weeks knocked me over for days, simply because of things that were said (and not said) from someone who claims to care about me.
Everyone has a story, and usually we’re not privy to the full non-censored version.
So here’s my story - the deep dark secret that until now I’ve hid from the world. While this health condition I’ve written about in past blogs is not always life-threatening, it is genetic. And if it does appear in a newborn, however remote that possibility may be, it IS almost 100% fatal. I’ve struggled for over a year with whether or not I even want to take that chance. Right now I don't. And even if I did, how in the world do you ask someone else to take on that risk with you? I've only had 2 men in my entire life that I would have ever thought I could - 1 that I did, and 1 that I will never get the chance to.
I tell you this not to induce pity. In fact, that is the exact reason it has remained a secret for so long - that I never want anyone to look at me like that. What I think sometimes we forget is that when we speak, no matter how innocent or well-intentioned our words may be, we misunderstand the impact they can make on someone else. The “but you’re so pretty,” or “you’d make such a great mother,” "why aren't you married," or even “I can’t believe you’re single,” are merely just judgements in disguise of the I-want-you-to-be-happy hooey. And without knowing someone's story, we run the risk of doing irreparable damage. We run the risk of falling into society's expectations. We run the risk of hurting others. Words are powerful, and that power has to be respected.
May your words today heal, not hurt.
Friday, September 16, 2011
No Need to Worry
Homeless men love me. That one sentence pretty much sums up the majority of men that hit on me. I used to say that only young kids and old men ever did, but apparently that is no longer true.
I didn’t discover this particular phenomenon until a recent trip to San Francisco. I’m quite certain I was hit on by every other homeless man who walked down the street. One in particular did this to me:
<Walking toward me> “Damn girl, hold on” <Puts one finger up, does a complete circle around me on the street> “Yeah girl, you’re fine.”
I had to give him credit - it was the best pickup line I’ve ever heard in my entire life. And as crazy as this sounds, I found myself thinking - If only we had somewhere to go....
I had convinced myself this was strictly a SF occurrence. I believe my hypothesis has been proved wrong once again. There is a guy in Escondido who hangs out near the 7-eleven by my home, and the workers there call this guy “menacing.” They call EPD regularly and tell them he is harassing the patrons. I’ve never been harassed, unless you count the occasional “Hey can you buy me a soda?” Being a single female, I can give you the definition of harassment. This guy is not it. I mean, he’s like 8 feet tall and doesn’t ever wear a shirt, but he’s never come across as menacing to me.
Anyway, this last 7-eleven run proved to be interesting. I think he knows now what my car looks like. As I made my way out of the store he was walking toward me. I figured he’d ask for money or something so I mentally tried to figure out how much cash I had on me at the time. Instead, this is what I got - “Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re beautiful. Have a good day, and I hope I see you around.”
See people, no need to worry - I can get a date.
I didn’t discover this particular phenomenon until a recent trip to San Francisco. I’m quite certain I was hit on by every other homeless man who walked down the street. One in particular did this to me:
<Walking toward me> “Damn girl, hold on” <Puts one finger up, does a complete circle around me on the street> “Yeah girl, you’re fine.”
I had to give him credit - it was the best pickup line I’ve ever heard in my entire life. And as crazy as this sounds, I found myself thinking - If only we had somewhere to go....
I had convinced myself this was strictly a SF occurrence. I believe my hypothesis has been proved wrong once again. There is a guy in Escondido who hangs out near the 7-eleven by my home, and the workers there call this guy “menacing.” They call EPD regularly and tell them he is harassing the patrons. I’ve never been harassed, unless you count the occasional “Hey can you buy me a soda?” Being a single female, I can give you the definition of harassment. This guy is not it. I mean, he’s like 8 feet tall and doesn’t ever wear a shirt, but he’s never come across as menacing to me.
Anyway, this last 7-eleven run proved to be interesting. I think he knows now what my car looks like. As I made my way out of the store he was walking toward me. I figured he’d ask for money or something so I mentally tried to figure out how much cash I had on me at the time. Instead, this is what I got - “Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re beautiful. Have a good day, and I hope I see you around.”
See people, no need to worry - I can get a date.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Chronic Pain: Lessons from the Trenches
Normally, we don’t take the time to reflect on our lives except during or immediately following a crisis. We regroup, reevaluate and re-prioritize. But then, once the crisis subsides we return to our everyday routine and reflections take a back seat to the day to day. And little by little, the lessons we learned about life and about ourselves disappear. Even I’m guilty.
Without boring you with too many details, let me just tell you that I have a health condition that has brought with it chronic pain for years. In 2009 I ended up in the emergency room only to be told that it was simply anxiety. See a therapist and I’d be fine. Last year, finally, one fantastic PA looked me in the eye and said, “We’re not stopping until every rock is turned over. We’ll figure it out.” After a number of tests and the dreaded scan of my head, he found it - an actual medical diagnosis, a name to what was happening. The whole process was a tad bit scarier than I’d like to admit. Going through it alone (read: I’m single) was difficult in itself. Most of the symptoms are just embarrassing, like balance and speech issues or forgetting to turn the oven off 3 hours after making dinner, but the chronic pain is what forces the almost daily reflections on my life. But I’m a firm believer that every single thing in life presents a teachable moment if we just take the time to listen.
While I completely understand that some of you will not relate to the illness portion of this post (and I truly wish that no one on the face of this earth EVER had to), it is my hope that you can relate based on circumstances within your own life and have developed your own “what this crisis has taught me”. Here’s some of what chronic pain (my own personal crisis) has taught me:
1. I am stronger than I ever believed imaginable.
2. Life is never guaranteed and should never be taken for granted.
3. The truest people in your life will stick through you and the crisis, and life is too short to spend time on people who are a waste of your space.
4. Seriously, life doesn’t need to be lived seriously.
5. All the pain meds (or any other numbness-inducing item) can’t even remotely compare to a great night with great friends and lots of laughter.
6. Plans are great, but flexibility is key.
7. It will never, ever, ever be helpful (or end the pain) to listen to the negative little voice in your head (although I still do at times).
8. You do not need to suffer alone in silence. There are people who want to know your life (the good and bad). The more you talk, the more people can help you carry your burdens. Letting people in is not a weakness.
My mother shared once that her cancer made her, ironically, freer. She no longer worried about the little things, what people thought of her or the negativity in life. So powerful - the idea that a crisis gives us the courage to be nice to ourselves. Too many times we focus on our faults, until the crisis subsides and we see that we really are wonderful and amazing. I implore each of you to take the time today to focus on your strengths - what you already know, who you already are - and silence the negative voice in your head.
“You and me, Know what it’s like, To be kicked down, Forced to fight
But tonight, We’re alright, So hold up your light, Let it shine”
Without boring you with too many details, let me just tell you that I have a health condition that has brought with it chronic pain for years. In 2009 I ended up in the emergency room only to be told that it was simply anxiety. See a therapist and I’d be fine. Last year, finally, one fantastic PA looked me in the eye and said, “We’re not stopping until every rock is turned over. We’ll figure it out.” After a number of tests and the dreaded scan of my head, he found it - an actual medical diagnosis, a name to what was happening. The whole process was a tad bit scarier than I’d like to admit. Going through it alone (read: I’m single) was difficult in itself. Most of the symptoms are just embarrassing, like balance and speech issues or forgetting to turn the oven off 3 hours after making dinner, but the chronic pain is what forces the almost daily reflections on my life. But I’m a firm believer that every single thing in life presents a teachable moment if we just take the time to listen.
While I completely understand that some of you will not relate to the illness portion of this post (and I truly wish that no one on the face of this earth EVER had to), it is my hope that you can relate based on circumstances within your own life and have developed your own “what this crisis has taught me”. Here’s some of what chronic pain (my own personal crisis) has taught me:
1. I am stronger than I ever believed imaginable.
2. Life is never guaranteed and should never be taken for granted.
3. The truest people in your life will stick through you and the crisis, and life is too short to spend time on people who are a waste of your space.
4. Seriously, life doesn’t need to be lived seriously.
5. All the pain meds (or any other numbness-inducing item) can’t even remotely compare to a great night with great friends and lots of laughter.
6. Plans are great, but flexibility is key.
7. It will never, ever, ever be helpful (or end the pain) to listen to the negative little voice in your head (although I still do at times).
8. You do not need to suffer alone in silence. There are people who want to know your life (the good and bad). The more you talk, the more people can help you carry your burdens. Letting people in is not a weakness.
My mother shared once that her cancer made her, ironically, freer. She no longer worried about the little things, what people thought of her or the negativity in life. So powerful - the idea that a crisis gives us the courage to be nice to ourselves. Too many times we focus on our faults, until the crisis subsides and we see that we really are wonderful and amazing. I implore each of you to take the time today to focus on your strengths - what you already know, who you already are - and silence the negative voice in your head.
“You and me, Know what it’s like, To be kicked down, Forced to fight
But tonight, We’re alright, So hold up your light, Let it shine”
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
"Mistakes"
There’s a country song out there - it goes like this: “It’s a quarter after 1, I’m all alone and I need you now. Said I wouldn’t call but I lost all control and I need you now.” No truer words have ever been spoken about someone who is lonely....
Hey, I like single Jen. I’m confident but I’m not superwoman. I have moments where the confidence starts to evaporate and the loneliness sinks in. And in those moments I’ve done some pretty not-so-intelligent things.
You know what I mean (hopefully?) - you’ve had a rough patch, you’re feeling lonely, you would like to have the comforting arms of a stranger (or someone who isn’t a stranger). And since it’s safer to call someone you know, you make the one phone call you should NEVER EVER EVER make.
Cue the return of the ex.
It works - the distraction makes the loneliness disappear, at least for a little while.
You wake up the next morning with the “Holy wow, what have I done?” soundtrack blaring from the boombox inside your head. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of listening to that piece of musical genius, it includes tracks such as, “What the #@*% was I thinking?” “What is wrong with me?” and my personal favorite, “The biggest idiot in the universe.” A soulful blend of regret and satisfaction all wrapped up into one nice album, nicely set on repeat by default.
And then, immediately following the mental beat down, the other thoughts start rushing in - what does this mean? Why am I spending so much time thinking about him? Did I really believe everything he said? Are we going to get back together? Who wants that?
Answer: No one. Ex’s are ex’s for a reason. However.....in those moments of loneliness, when the heart is craving something, sometimes you do stupid things. And, more than likely, I will continue to do so.
The good news is the mental beatdown only lasts as long as I let it. So I’ve made mistakes. Show me the person who hasn’t and I’ll show you a person who hasn’t truly lived. The point of this long-winded story is that we all experience (or have experienced) these crazy “mistakes” some time in our lifetime. We can only truly call them “mistakes” if we refuse to learn something from them. Now, can anyone tell me WHAT I learned from this.....
Sunday, August 28, 2011
The List
So, despite my best efforts to dissuade them there are still people who believe that I "need" a man and that it is their mission to make this happen. Let me start with this disclaimer - I do not write this blog as a covert cry for help. I write because I want to give a voice to the thoughts and beliefs that seem to permeate society's view of the single female. A great friend told me once that people don't want to read about such honesty - this is my movement to change that.
However, because there are still those well-intentioned people in my life, I have created a list.
In order to qualify to be my next potential-ex-boyfriend, a guy must meet (at least) 80% of the following criteria:
However, because there are still those well-intentioned people in my life, I have created a list.
In order to qualify to be my next potential-ex-boyfriend, a guy must meet (at least) 80% of the following criteria:
- Be single. I know this seems like it should go without saying, but alas it doesn't.
- Be employed. There is a reason I don't have children yet. I have had multiple offers of donations but the truth is I just don't want, at this point in my life, to take care of someone else. This DOUBLY applies to grown men.
- Be able to make me laugh. I deal with illness, trauma, and death on a daily basis. Be my break.
- Be a bottom-of-the-toothpaste-tube-squisher. I am a middle-of-the-tube squisher, and let me tell you there is nothing sweeter than going to brush your teeth and seeing someone has squished a giant blob just for you. It's the little things that matter.
- Accept me for who I am, not who he wants me to be. I once had a boyfriend who decided that, while he "loved" me, there were just a few things that needed improvement - my hair, makeup and clothing. Guess what? I like me, and if you don't, you can just shove off.
- Have moments where it's okay to be a big-little kid. I love jumping in puddles and dancing in the rain. I do serious only when I have to.
- Be able to hold an intelligent conversation. (This only applies to relationships, not flings) I'm a born debater. There is no bigger turn-off that someone who gives up easily. Besides, I can't learn anything new if I'm always around people who agree with me.
- Have a passion for helping people, not just making money. I work in the social service field. Enough said.
- Have larger calf muscles than me. I know this one seems weird, but it was a piece of advice from my mother. I only forgot it once and I've regretted that ever since.
- Never make me choose. I don't do ultimatums. I've been known to drop everything and take off at the first sight of one. Don't test me, you'll lose. Every time. And never, ever, ever use the "If you love me" line. That one makes me throw up just a little in my mouth.
- Be understanding.
So that's my list. It's not that I'm picky (okay, maybe just a little), it's that I've gotten to the point in my life where I now refuse to settle. I've been in too many relationships, too many friendships, too many situations where I honestly believed I needed to change in order to make someone else happy. I am not half of a whole.
For all of the single women AND the women who are in relationships they shouldn't be in, I encourage you to develop your own list. And then send it to me so I can add to mine. Stick to your list and never settle. Despite what we see everywhere in today's society - romantic movies, advertisements, every other country song ever released - we do not have to be in some head-over-heels relationship to be happy. We just need to know who we are, what we want, and how to be authentic to ourselves. You are perfect, just the way you are. And in the shrewd words of Lil Wayne, "I just want you to know that you deserve the best. You're beautiful."
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Who Says You Can't Go Home (Part 2)
Like everyone who is or has been on their own personal journey through grief, my life (and my family's life) has been like one long and extremely well-built emotional rollercoaster. Health issues, loneliness, and miscellaneous life events have taken their toll on different members of my family. I've kept a pretty close eye on what's going on in the home front, but being so far away I can only detect so much...and while I love my brother and sister, they will never be accused of being "keen observers." The part that made me worry was the hint of sadness that seems to accompany every single phone call....So I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to be walking into.
Let me first tell you that I don't like to be a grown-up. While there are times in my life when I put my big girl pants on and act the part of the adult, I usually do so with a whole lot of internal kicking and screaming. This trip was definitely going to force me into the role of an adult, and I was dreading it. Emotionally ready? No. And I was right.
I knew it was coming. There had been talks of it for months so when I heard the plans, less than 24 hours after landing, I wasn't completely surprised. My father informed me that we would be spending the next morning touring cemeteries. Yes, that's what I said. I suppose the better term for it would be "checking out" cemeteries. He had done his google research and now wanted me to help him choose where both he and my mother would be buried. The urgency in the request shook me to the core. Why now? I spend my days talking to people about end-of-life and the need to plan, but the need to get this done quickly was too much for even this professional to handle.
So I woke up that morning, got ready and proceeded to check out local cemeteries (like we were looking for apartments). We walked the grounds, talked to the staff, observed the monuments. Some of the conversations bordered on entertaining, some just sad. Somewhere near the statue of the Pope I found myself shutting down....like when you're in an argument and you don't want to participate anymore so you just give the answer you think will end the fight. Towards the end, after 3 hours (yes, 3 hours) and a dozen or so "Would your mother like this?" I was near tears. And that's when it got bad. My father told the office worker that he needed information about 1 specific plot (a nice one by the tree, on the back side of the statue of the Pope because who the hell would want the Pope staring at them for all eternity?) that he needed the information because I was only in town for a few days and we needed to make decisions. I quietly excused myself.
I don't sit around every night lamenting the lack of a soulmate. But there have definitely been moments in my singlehood where I wished more than anything that I was in some type of committed relationship. This was one of those times. I wished I had someone standing next to me in that cemetery office, someone to wrap their arms around me and hold me together as I fell apart, someone who would face the day with me, someone who could pick me up after life knocked me off my feet. Someone who would be there....just in case I lost someone else close to me. I was envious of those around me who had that person and I wasn't a big fan of myself either (because there HAS to be something wrong with me). Yep, this was definitely one of those moments. The downside of being single. I guess it's time to start picking up random guys off the street.....
Let me first tell you that I don't like to be a grown-up. While there are times in my life when I put my big girl pants on and act the part of the adult, I usually do so with a whole lot of internal kicking and screaming. This trip was definitely going to force me into the role of an adult, and I was dreading it. Emotionally ready? No. And I was right.
I knew it was coming. There had been talks of it for months so when I heard the plans, less than 24 hours after landing, I wasn't completely surprised. My father informed me that we would be spending the next morning touring cemeteries. Yes, that's what I said. I suppose the better term for it would be "checking out" cemeteries. He had done his google research and now wanted me to help him choose where both he and my mother would be buried. The urgency in the request shook me to the core. Why now? I spend my days talking to people about end-of-life and the need to plan, but the need to get this done quickly was too much for even this professional to handle.
So I woke up that morning, got ready and proceeded to check out local cemeteries (like we were looking for apartments). We walked the grounds, talked to the staff, observed the monuments. Some of the conversations bordered on entertaining, some just sad. Somewhere near the statue of the Pope I found myself shutting down....like when you're in an argument and you don't want to participate anymore so you just give the answer you think will end the fight. Towards the end, after 3 hours (yes, 3 hours) and a dozen or so "Would your mother like this?" I was near tears. And that's when it got bad. My father told the office worker that he needed information about 1 specific plot (a nice one by the tree, on the back side of the statue of the Pope because who the hell would want the Pope staring at them for all eternity?) that he needed the information because I was only in town for a few days and we needed to make decisions. I quietly excused myself.
I don't sit around every night lamenting the lack of a soulmate. But there have definitely been moments in my singlehood where I wished more than anything that I was in some type of committed relationship. This was one of those times. I wished I had someone standing next to me in that cemetery office, someone to wrap their arms around me and hold me together as I fell apart, someone who would face the day with me, someone who could pick me up after life knocked me off my feet. Someone who would be there....just in case I lost someone else close to me. I was envious of those around me who had that person and I wasn't a big fan of myself either (because there HAS to be something wrong with me). Yep, this was definitely one of those moments. The downside of being single. I guess it's time to start picking up random guys off the street.....
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Who Says You Can't Go Home (Part 1)
So it's time. I feel like the beginning of a UFC cage fight when the announcer stretches that out to about 87 syllables and then...fighting out of the blue corner, standing 5'4" weighing in at (you don't get that info): Jen! And her opponent, fighting out of the red corner: Home!
Okay, I kid - it's not really like a UFC fight. But lately it did seem like I had to pump myself up to emotionally take on one 6 day "vacation." Things have definitely been different since my mom died - from the moment when my family couldn't spend more than 5 minutes in the same room with me (and no, that's not an exaggeration) because of how much I looked like her, to now - trying to get me to visit more. The week prior to leaving was my "pumping up" period. Hell, I even pumped up my cat. Let's just say that an entire week of "you can do it"'s can cause a teeny bit of self-inflicted anxiety. And P.S. It's all about me.
So again, it's time. I wake up at 2:30 in the morning, get myself all ready to go and head down to the airport parking lot. There are a lot more people there at 4 in the morning that I've previously seen, and we tend to make "the sun isn't even up yet" small talk as we wait to get in the shuttle. The guy behind the counter really seems like he needs a nap...Fast forward to the airport where I have enough time to stop at Starbucks - meet a guy in the line (who marveled at my ability to drink a venti caramel frappuccino at 5:00am) AND earn my brand new gold card. Not a bad 10 minutes. Turns out I'm in group 3 so Starbucks guy and I have a little more time to chat before heading in separate directions.
They call my group, I exchange info with Starbucks boy, and head on to the plane. Looking for my seat I find it and decide the universe has been very, very good to me this morning - because, directly next to my window seat is one beautiful Marine.....thank you airplane gods! I don't talk politics, and I DEFINITELY don't talk about the war, but seriously this man was beautiful. I believe it may be time to take one for the team. As we take off from San Diego, I hear a pretty amazing story....
Through a little bit of chit chat, I learn that he is accompanying the honor flag from SD to Dallas, TX to be present at the funeral of a firefighter who was killed in the line of duty. This flag was in SD for the service of our policeman who was brutally assasinated while sitting at a red light. The short story had me completely hooked and we spent the next 3 hours talking about the flag, the honor, the idea behind it. When we landed we were pulled off to the side and greeted by police and a fire engine. Because the flag was on board our plane, ceremony dictates the fire engine spray down the plane with the water cannons - a paying homage to the fallen firefighter.
Overall, it was a pretty amazing experience. I had been spending my time stressing out over this trip home when the universe reminded me just how little I am in comparison. And that is exactly how I needed to start the first leg of this journey....
Okay, I kid - it's not really like a UFC fight. But lately it did seem like I had to pump myself up to emotionally take on one 6 day "vacation." Things have definitely been different since my mom died - from the moment when my family couldn't spend more than 5 minutes in the same room with me (and no, that's not an exaggeration) because of how much I looked like her, to now - trying to get me to visit more. The week prior to leaving was my "pumping up" period. Hell, I even pumped up my cat. Let's just say that an entire week of "you can do it"'s can cause a teeny bit of self-inflicted anxiety. And P.S. It's all about me.
So again, it's time. I wake up at 2:30 in the morning, get myself all ready to go and head down to the airport parking lot. There are a lot more people there at 4 in the morning that I've previously seen, and we tend to make "the sun isn't even up yet" small talk as we wait to get in the shuttle. The guy behind the counter really seems like he needs a nap...Fast forward to the airport where I have enough time to stop at Starbucks - meet a guy in the line (who marveled at my ability to drink a venti caramel frappuccino at 5:00am) AND earn my brand new gold card. Not a bad 10 minutes. Turns out I'm in group 3 so Starbucks guy and I have a little more time to chat before heading in separate directions.
They call my group, I exchange info with Starbucks boy, and head on to the plane. Looking for my seat I find it and decide the universe has been very, very good to me this morning - because, directly next to my window seat is one beautiful Marine.....thank you airplane gods! I don't talk politics, and I DEFINITELY don't talk about the war, but seriously this man was beautiful. I believe it may be time to take one for the team. As we take off from San Diego, I hear a pretty amazing story....
Through a little bit of chit chat, I learn that he is accompanying the honor flag from SD to Dallas, TX to be present at the funeral of a firefighter who was killed in the line of duty. This flag was in SD for the service of our policeman who was brutally assasinated while sitting at a red light. The short story had me completely hooked and we spent the next 3 hours talking about the flag, the honor, the idea behind it. When we landed we were pulled off to the side and greeted by police and a fire engine. Because the flag was on board our plane, ceremony dictates the fire engine spray down the plane with the water cannons - a paying homage to the fallen firefighter.
Overall, it was a pretty amazing experience. I had been spending my time stressing out over this trip home when the universe reminded me just how little I am in comparison. And that is exactly how I needed to start the first leg of this journey....
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Fight, Flight or Live
My entire life I’ve vacillated between fight or flight. I’ve fought through some pretty intense things - abuse (including one particularly vicious boyfriend, but that’s a story for a different day), an eating disorder, issues with drugs and alcohol, disease, death and one extremely dark moment when I tried to drive my car into a tree. I’ve fought - and come out on the other side. But even as I sit and reflect on the stories on my life, the challenges and obstacles I’ve overcome, I can’t help but have certain moments, certain people in my life who make me feel like I just don’t measure up. I have one that doesn’t even live in the state. Imagine the irony of someone who can knock you off your feet long-distance. And it is in those moments, moments when the little voice in your head starts to tell you that you’re just not good enough, that the urge to run begins to rise in the back of my throat. Someone once told me that they know something is wrong with me when I shut down. I’ve done it before - I ran 14 years ago, again 2 years later, and again just one short year from today. And recently, that pesky flight mechanism kicked in again.
What triggered the run, Jen, run? I had a bit of a freak out yesterday with a friend. It was completely misplaced, and actually had nothing to do with this friend. Crazy party of 1? Your table is ready. I was feeling vulnerable about a few other things going on in my life, including this trip back to the homeland and instead of dealing with those issues as they arose I stuffed them (I’m a fantastic stuffer). Suddenly, those vulnerabilities just apparently came ripping out of me. The urge to run was so strong I could taste it. Thankfully I chose the absolute right person to freak out on (if there is such a thing), someone who listened without judging (or calling me crazy by the way). I’m grateful for those people in my life - people who accept me for who I am, strengths and faults combined, for those are the people who truly help you quiet your mind and open your heart.
I overanalyze things. It’s who I am. And as I calmed down from my “AHHHHH!” moment, not to mention repeated “OMG, did I really just do that?” moments, I had the realization - yes, this IS who I am. All of my life experiences, everything I’ve done and everything that has been done to me has made me who I am. I like me, I am proud of me. I am smart, strong, beautiful and perfect just the way I am. I measure up to the only one person that really counts - me. The truth is, no one can ever make us feel anything other than how we let them makes us feel. Life is too short to get sucked in by the little voices in our heads that tell us we’re not good enough. And if by chance you actually meet someone who finds it necessary to tell you or show you that you aren’t, kindly escort them to the exit door of your world. People who cannot handle the freakouts in life don’t deserve to share in your bliss. Breathe in every moment, learn to think less and be more. Stop running and live, and you will find that the right people have been there all along.
May you each find moments today of hope, happiness, peace and love.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Dreaded Wedding Invitation
By now you (hopefully) know that I'm single. I've been single for awhile - and even before I was actually single, I was single (read: very dysfunctional relationship). Needless to say, I've been able to practice singlehood for quite some time and I believe I've gotten pretty good at it. I've gone to the theater solo, caught a movie solo, went to dinner solo...I've even gone to the bar solo (I know, I know). But as comfortable as I am with myself, there is still one thing that evokes sheer terror in this single girl....
The Wedding Invitation.
Inevitably, all wedding invitations come addressed to "Jen and GUEST." There are a few things wrong with this. First, the envelope is mocking me. Everyone else gets an envelope with two actual names. But poor single Jen gets the "and GUEST." Second, I somehow always feel obliged to find myself a "GUEST." The little voice in my head starts screaming frantically about how I absolutely, positively CANNOT show up to a wedding solo. It's an event meant for couples. My life is sad! Totally illogical, but still.
So that starts the fun (and in the end, fruitless) search to find a "GUEST." Here's the issue with that - it's not actually a good idea to pick some random guy up off the street and say "hey wanna go with me to a wedding?" By the same token, it's probably not smart to take a guy you just met. There is the possibility of taking a friend, but then you risk the pitying glances, drinking too much to drown those glances and ruining a good friendship (YES, I've seen it happen). And then there's the "Wedding Date" (you remember the movie) possibility, but being broke seems to eliminate that choice.
End result? Two anxiety-filled weeks later I go solo. And yes, there were those people staring. Ah well. I wonder if men go through this same process when they get invited to something so stereotypically couple-ish? The wonders of the world......
The Wedding Invitation.
Inevitably, all wedding invitations come addressed to "Jen and GUEST." There are a few things wrong with this. First, the envelope is mocking me. Everyone else gets an envelope with two actual names. But poor single Jen gets the "and GUEST." Second, I somehow always feel obliged to find myself a "GUEST." The little voice in my head starts screaming frantically about how I absolutely, positively CANNOT show up to a wedding solo. It's an event meant for couples. My life is sad! Totally illogical, but still.
So that starts the fun (and in the end, fruitless) search to find a "GUEST." Here's the issue with that - it's not actually a good idea to pick some random guy up off the street and say "hey wanna go with me to a wedding?" By the same token, it's probably not smart to take a guy you just met. There is the possibility of taking a friend, but then you risk the pitying glances, drinking too much to drown those glances and ruining a good friendship (YES, I've seen it happen). And then there's the "Wedding Date" (you remember the movie) possibility, but being broke seems to eliminate that choice.
End result? Two anxiety-filled weeks later I go solo. And yes, there were those people staring. Ah well. I wonder if men go through this same process when they get invited to something so stereotypically couple-ish? The wonders of the world......
The Art of Photography: A Review
So I can't take a picture to save my life. I just don't have that creative eye and, due to circumstances beyond my control, I shake ever so slightly, making every photo I take a tiny bit skewed. I tend to tell people that my sister got the brains in the family, my brother got the artistic talent, and I ended up with a hodgepodge. I did, however, inherit the ability to appreciate subtle beauty. So when the invitation to attend the opening reception of The Art of Photography Show came about, I jumped at it. I had 3 main reasons for attending the opening - 1, I was invited. There aren't many rules I "live by," but this is one hard and fast rule I apply to my life. If you're ever invited to the opening or premiere of something, go. I've found that the premiere holds the most powerful and purest artistic rendition of just about anything. It's also the time you can get the most swag. Which brings me to #2, Each attendee received the catalog of the photos in the show. It also included artist notes and inspirations. We each have our stories - stories that define us, make us the person we are. But sometimes just reading the stories isn't enough - which is where #3 comes in, The artists were there. This gave me the opportunity to meet and mingle with those who took their hearts, their lives, their work and put it out there for everyone to see. They took the chance to stand there and listen to random people critique each flash of light, each point of view. But the most valuable part was that we get the chance to hear the stories firsthand.
I tend to gravitate toward art that depicts nature. Take one half-step into my apartment and you'll immediately see my admiration for Ansel Adams - his use of texture and light, and the clarity and depth of each photo. Most specifically, this one:
I assumed as I walked into this show that I would be drawn toward those photos as well. That's what I get for assuming...
The opening was hot, crowded and phenomenal. I love the Lyceum. No matter what your reason is for being there, you can't help but be energized as you walk through the front doors. There's a vibe there that is second to none, and it was the perfect location for the art show. Moving around the opening was tricky because of the number of people attending (and while the Lyceum is amazing, it isn't very big) but the layout of the photographs made it easy to just make big circles once you got used to squishing yourself between random people.
I did the big circle, then came to 3 separate photos by Christopher Capozziello. I found myself transfixed and not completely certain why. All 3 were photos of a man in different situations from a series entitled "The Distance Between Us"....not the typical "art" I usually stop at. I stood in front of these 3 photos for at least 20 minutes. I knelt to get a better look at the bottom one, almost getting trampled as people didn't see me. I moved closer to the exhibit and knelt there even longer. There was something about these 3 photos...they were dark but I was in awe. I ended up moving away, making a few more large circles around the room and returning to that one particular exhibit. I couldn't stay away...and when I opened my catalog I finally realized why. Capozziello's photos in this exhibit depict the journey he's shared with his twin brother who has cerebral palsy. He attempts (and succeeds brilliantly) in showing the angst and despair that accompany disease. I was amazed by what he was able to capture in just one quick click. If you want to see the photos that hooked me, here you go:
Aevum - Capozziello
Long story short - if you have the opportunity between now and October 23 to visit the Lyceum, GO. You won't be disappointed. While I definitely didn't agree with the judges' #1 (I don't honestly think people wrapped in shrink wrap constitutes my type of art), there will definitely be something that draws you in. And who knows - you may even see me there - since I plan to make this a repeated trip.
I tend to gravitate toward art that depicts nature. Take one half-step into my apartment and you'll immediately see my admiration for Ansel Adams - his use of texture and light, and the clarity and depth of each photo. Most specifically, this one:
I assumed as I walked into this show that I would be drawn toward those photos as well. That's what I get for assuming...
The opening was hot, crowded and phenomenal. I love the Lyceum. No matter what your reason is for being there, you can't help but be energized as you walk through the front doors. There's a vibe there that is second to none, and it was the perfect location for the art show. Moving around the opening was tricky because of the number of people attending (and while the Lyceum is amazing, it isn't very big) but the layout of the photographs made it easy to just make big circles once you got used to squishing yourself between random people.
I did the big circle, then came to 3 separate photos by Christopher Capozziello. I found myself transfixed and not completely certain why. All 3 were photos of a man in different situations from a series entitled "The Distance Between Us"....not the typical "art" I usually stop at. I stood in front of these 3 photos for at least 20 minutes. I knelt to get a better look at the bottom one, almost getting trampled as people didn't see me. I moved closer to the exhibit and knelt there even longer. There was something about these 3 photos...they were dark but I was in awe. I ended up moving away, making a few more large circles around the room and returning to that one particular exhibit. I couldn't stay away...and when I opened my catalog I finally realized why. Capozziello's photos in this exhibit depict the journey he's shared with his twin brother who has cerebral palsy. He attempts (and succeeds brilliantly) in showing the angst and despair that accompany disease. I was amazed by what he was able to capture in just one quick click. If you want to see the photos that hooked me, here you go:
Aevum - Capozziello
Long story short - if you have the opportunity between now and October 23 to visit the Lyceum, GO. You won't be disappointed. While I definitely didn't agree with the judges' #1 (I don't honestly think people wrapped in shrink wrap constitutes my type of art), there will definitely be something that draws you in. And who knows - you may even see me there - since I plan to make this a repeated trip.
Monday, August 8, 2011
The Freedom to Feel
I came across an entry by Scott Ginsburg entitled, "7 Things You Never Have to Do" and while I don't know the man I think he is, quite frankly, a genius and rapidly approaching the title of my favorite blogger. The entry is about our basic cores that should never be hidden or compromised. While the entire entry made an impact, it was #6 that really struck a chord - Love is never asking people to edit themselves.
Recently I went through some pretty rough days. Between the scans, the doctors, the drugs, the fatigue, the pain and all of the other fun stuff life throws at us I was on emotional thin ice. What I needed was a pint of Ben & Jerry's and 8 straight hours of The Notebook. What I got were well-intentioned acquaintances doing their own personal version of the "cheer up buttercup" dance. Everywhere I looked there was someone with the - it's all right, don't worry, everything will be okay. Life is as it should be.
Guess what? I'm pretty sure I want to give that generalized statement the finger. There have been moments in my life (as I am assuming in all of yours as well) where I refused to accept the idea that THIS was how life should be. Moments when it felt like the sky opened up and every single tidbit of poo rained down. And if by some off-chance I'm actually wrong, that was exactly how life should be, then perhaps the universe needs to rethink some of its plans.
I don't live in the darkness. While I fully admit that I've lost my way in there a few times, the majority of the time I rail, let go, and move back toward the sunshine. I believe that most people do. I honor the power of positive thinking. I've seen its impact on people who are dealing with incredible trauma. I've witnessed it first-hand when I woke up one morning relatively pain-free after a particularly great evening.
We are all free to feel any emotions - good, bad or ugly - without the fear of being criticized for a lack of positivity. How can we possibly enjoy the incredible warmth of the sunshine if we never allow ourselves to experience the bitter cold of darkness? How can we possibly understand true happiness without understanding its rival - complete despair? The good news about dark moments is that they eventually end....giving way to a new day, a new dawn. But we can't hide away from the nights and pretend they don't exist. That's the emotional equivalent of putting our hands over our ears and chanting, "nah nah nah I can't hear you!!" It didn't work when we were younger, it isn't going to work today.
Love is never asking people to edit themselves....and never feeling like you need to edit. In one particularly rough moment right after my mom died I had the greatest best friend walk up to me, put her arms out and say, "I know." That was it. That one moment in my life helped me heal more than any other words ever could. She didn't try to edit me, she listened and carried a bit of the pain for me. The "cheer up buttercup" dance, as well-intentioned as it is, destroys open and honest communication. We take our dark moments and hide them away (picture the nah nah nah thing here). When we truly love someone - the kind of love that has no conditions, no limits - we allow them to feel the good, the bad and the ugly. We stand there next to them in the darkness, hold their hand and wait for the sun to shine again.
So the next time you're standing there in the darkness, know that it will eventually end. But also know that it is that much less scary being there with someone who loves you. And when someone tries the whole "it'll be okay" thing with you, know that it's just fine to say that while it WILL be okay eventually, it isn't right now. And even that is okay.
http://www.openforum.com/articles/7-things-you-never-have-to-do?extlink=em-openf-SBdaily
Recently I went through some pretty rough days. Between the scans, the doctors, the drugs, the fatigue, the pain and all of the other fun stuff life throws at us I was on emotional thin ice. What I needed was a pint of Ben & Jerry's and 8 straight hours of The Notebook. What I got were well-intentioned acquaintances doing their own personal version of the "cheer up buttercup" dance. Everywhere I looked there was someone with the - it's all right, don't worry, everything will be okay. Life is as it should be.
Guess what? I'm pretty sure I want to give that generalized statement the finger. There have been moments in my life (as I am assuming in all of yours as well) where I refused to accept the idea that THIS was how life should be. Moments when it felt like the sky opened up and every single tidbit of poo rained down. And if by some off-chance I'm actually wrong, that was exactly how life should be, then perhaps the universe needs to rethink some of its plans.
I don't live in the darkness. While I fully admit that I've lost my way in there a few times, the majority of the time I rail, let go, and move back toward the sunshine. I believe that most people do. I honor the power of positive thinking. I've seen its impact on people who are dealing with incredible trauma. I've witnessed it first-hand when I woke up one morning relatively pain-free after a particularly great evening.
We are all free to feel any emotions - good, bad or ugly - without the fear of being criticized for a lack of positivity. How can we possibly enjoy the incredible warmth of the sunshine if we never allow ourselves to experience the bitter cold of darkness? How can we possibly understand true happiness without understanding its rival - complete despair? The good news about dark moments is that they eventually end....giving way to a new day, a new dawn. But we can't hide away from the nights and pretend they don't exist. That's the emotional equivalent of putting our hands over our ears and chanting, "nah nah nah I can't hear you!!" It didn't work when we were younger, it isn't going to work today.
Love is never asking people to edit themselves....and never feeling like you need to edit. In one particularly rough moment right after my mom died I had the greatest best friend walk up to me, put her arms out and say, "I know." That was it. That one moment in my life helped me heal more than any other words ever could. She didn't try to edit me, she listened and carried a bit of the pain for me. The "cheer up buttercup" dance, as well-intentioned as it is, destroys open and honest communication. We take our dark moments and hide them away (picture the nah nah nah thing here). When we truly love someone - the kind of love that has no conditions, no limits - we allow them to feel the good, the bad and the ugly. We stand there next to them in the darkness, hold their hand and wait for the sun to shine again.
So the next time you're standing there in the darkness, know that it will eventually end. But also know that it is that much less scary being there with someone who loves you. And when someone tries the whole "it'll be okay" thing with you, know that it's just fine to say that while it WILL be okay eventually, it isn't right now. And even that is okay.
http://www.openforum.com/articles/7-things-you-never-have-to-do?extlink=em-openf-SBdaily
Thursday, August 4, 2011
How Technology is Ruining the World...
Technology is ruining the world. Or, more specifically, how we use technology is contributing to the decline of humanness. Here's why I think so:
I was in a meeting the other day with a man who works closely with seniors who may need to leave their homes soon. He was telling me a story about an elderly gentleman who just wanted to sell his house and move to a senior community so he could be surrounded by people. See, this man had seen his share of loss - death of friends, family members, everyone that was close to him. He lived alone in a house much too large for one person, and wanted more than anything to be with the joys of others. His children thought otherwise, that he should keep the house and live the rest of his life there. This is what this man said to me, "He doesn't have anyone and rarely leaves his house. But....he has email!"
I'm sorry, what? Suddenly we were speaking as if the notion of email could somehow cure this man's intense loneliness. Apparently, have access to sending virtual notes every day could fill his void.
We all have them - relationships that don't exist outside the sphere of text messaging, email and social networking sites. With the advent of smartphones we're able to log in and in real time post our status updates, check in to our favorite places, view the photos of our friends, see where our friends have been and be jealous of their so-much-cooler lives. But what do we miss out on?
We miss the quick glances that say more than any conversation ever could. We miss the smiles. We miss the pauses, the breaths we take before opening our hearts. We miss the electricity that takes your breath away when eyes meet. We miss the pure innocence of the supportive touch. We miss the calming peace of hearing the voice of someone you love. We miss the joy of human contact.
As technology develops, we spend more and more time behind a laptop, holding a smartphone. We disregard all the important pieces of humanness. Texting is faster than a conversation, but honestly - what can really ever be said?
I told a friend once that virtual hugs are better than nothing. In and of itself, that statement is entirely true. But what could possibly be better than sitting with quietly with someone, breathing the same air, laughing the same laugh, feeling the same soft touch?
Yes, I see and fully grasp the irony of criticizing technology in a blog posting. I don't really believe in pure black and white, pure good and bad. Some forms of technology have improved relationships - Skype has allowed my father to see my niece grow up in the absence of frequent out of state trips. And I use all of the aforementioned forms. I post random updates, but mostly because my mind works in a pretty random fashion and that seems to be the only place one sentence thoughts aren't ridiculously out of context.
I'm headed home in a few short weeks. While there are a number of reasons for this out-of-the-ordinary trip, my heart has been aching for home for months. Some time ago the best friend a girl could ever ask for went through a difficult time. Being so far away, I was initially relegated to technology to provide comfort, when what really needed to be done was a larger than life hug and the sharing of tears. I don't want to be that girl. I don't want to live my life through text messaging. I don't want to spend every minute surfing through the 3 million different social networking sites.
I just want to give someone a hug.
I was in a meeting the other day with a man who works closely with seniors who may need to leave their homes soon. He was telling me a story about an elderly gentleman who just wanted to sell his house and move to a senior community so he could be surrounded by people. See, this man had seen his share of loss - death of friends, family members, everyone that was close to him. He lived alone in a house much too large for one person, and wanted more than anything to be with the joys of others. His children thought otherwise, that he should keep the house and live the rest of his life there. This is what this man said to me, "He doesn't have anyone and rarely leaves his house. But....he has email!"
I'm sorry, what? Suddenly we were speaking as if the notion of email could somehow cure this man's intense loneliness. Apparently, have access to sending virtual notes every day could fill his void.
We all have them - relationships that don't exist outside the sphere of text messaging, email and social networking sites. With the advent of smartphones we're able to log in and in real time post our status updates, check in to our favorite places, view the photos of our friends, see where our friends have been and be jealous of their so-much-cooler lives. But what do we miss out on?
We miss the quick glances that say more than any conversation ever could. We miss the smiles. We miss the pauses, the breaths we take before opening our hearts. We miss the electricity that takes your breath away when eyes meet. We miss the pure innocence of the supportive touch. We miss the calming peace of hearing the voice of someone you love. We miss the joy of human contact.
As technology develops, we spend more and more time behind a laptop, holding a smartphone. We disregard all the important pieces of humanness. Texting is faster than a conversation, but honestly - what can really ever be said?
I told a friend once that virtual hugs are better than nothing. In and of itself, that statement is entirely true. But what could possibly be better than sitting with quietly with someone, breathing the same air, laughing the same laugh, feeling the same soft touch?
Yes, I see and fully grasp the irony of criticizing technology in a blog posting. I don't really believe in pure black and white, pure good and bad. Some forms of technology have improved relationships - Skype has allowed my father to see my niece grow up in the absence of frequent out of state trips. And I use all of the aforementioned forms. I post random updates, but mostly because my mind works in a pretty random fashion and that seems to be the only place one sentence thoughts aren't ridiculously out of context.
I'm headed home in a few short weeks. While there are a number of reasons for this out-of-the-ordinary trip, my heart has been aching for home for months. Some time ago the best friend a girl could ever ask for went through a difficult time. Being so far away, I was initially relegated to technology to provide comfort, when what really needed to be done was a larger than life hug and the sharing of tears. I don't want to be that girl. I don't want to live my life through text messaging. I don't want to spend every minute surfing through the 3 million different social networking sites.
I just want to give someone a hug.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
I picked up the phone to call you today...
I apologize in advance for the somewhat raw emotion....it was just one of those days.
I actually picked up the phone to call you today. So many things happening in my world right now and all I wanted to do was call...so many things that make me remember. As I hit the 5 I realized - that number doesn't work anymore. So my hope is that maybe they have the internet in heaven....and I hope that those of you reading this will grant me some leeway in expressing these thoughts.
Mom,
I hope that today you were smiling down on me. I hope that today you saw the newest accomplishment in my life. I hope that the choices that I've made in the last 2.5 years have been ones you would approve. Mostly, I hope that today I made you proud.
Someone told me once that this gets easier as time passes. I'd actually like to find that person and punch them in the face, but I can't honestly remember who said it. Apparently it didn't register as truthful then either. I'd rather think of grief as holding on to a ginormous wicker basket filled with rocks. As time passes, more people come by and take one of those rocks out of the basket. They carry your pain with you, they share a portion of the dark moments, and the basket gets just a little bit lighter. You also get used to the weight, learn the best way to carry it, and develop the muscles needed to carry the pain. Sometimes, something else comes along and dumps more rocks in the basket. Today was one of those days.
But I'll tell you the truth - I wouldn't give up my wicker basket - I wouldn't trade everything you taught me, the love you had for me, the strength you gave me. I'd rather feel something than nothing at all. The greatest moments in my life have been when someone has told me that I was "just like" my mother.
I know that you saw it all - you saw my smile when I read the blog. You heard my story about baby Emma. You listened to the heartbreak of the day. You held me in your arms when I finally broke down. You were there in every moment, every breath. You cheered me on when I started to tell your story - finally without choking back tears.
I'm here to tell you that this hasn't gotten any easier. There have been more moments in the past 2.5 years that I've wanted my mother than ever before. I'm starting to deal with the feeling of being robbed, but on days like today it's difficult to bite back the bitterness. I know that tomorrow I will wake up without the overwhelming heaviness in my heart but I wish more than anything it wouldn't be there in the first place.
My newest philosophy is this one - "pain is the risk we all take for the greatest gift of love." I know you would approve - since you liked every single one of my random quotes and thoughts.
Thank you for that gift. I wouldn't be the person I am right now without you, both the good and the bad, and for that I will be forever grateful.
Love you,
Becky
*******
May you all continue to risk the pain of loss for the greatest gift of love.
I actually picked up the phone to call you today. So many things happening in my world right now and all I wanted to do was call...so many things that make me remember. As I hit the 5 I realized - that number doesn't work anymore. So my hope is that maybe they have the internet in heaven....and I hope that those of you reading this will grant me some leeway in expressing these thoughts.
Mom,
I hope that today you were smiling down on me. I hope that today you saw the newest accomplishment in my life. I hope that the choices that I've made in the last 2.5 years have been ones you would approve. Mostly, I hope that today I made you proud.
Someone told me once that this gets easier as time passes. I'd actually like to find that person and punch them in the face, but I can't honestly remember who said it. Apparently it didn't register as truthful then either. I'd rather think of grief as holding on to a ginormous wicker basket filled with rocks. As time passes, more people come by and take one of those rocks out of the basket. They carry your pain with you, they share a portion of the dark moments, and the basket gets just a little bit lighter. You also get used to the weight, learn the best way to carry it, and develop the muscles needed to carry the pain. Sometimes, something else comes along and dumps more rocks in the basket. Today was one of those days.
But I'll tell you the truth - I wouldn't give up my wicker basket - I wouldn't trade everything you taught me, the love you had for me, the strength you gave me. I'd rather feel something than nothing at all. The greatest moments in my life have been when someone has told me that I was "just like" my mother.
I know that you saw it all - you saw my smile when I read the blog. You heard my story about baby Emma. You listened to the heartbreak of the day. You held me in your arms when I finally broke down. You were there in every moment, every breath. You cheered me on when I started to tell your story - finally without choking back tears.
I'm here to tell you that this hasn't gotten any easier. There have been more moments in the past 2.5 years that I've wanted my mother than ever before. I'm starting to deal with the feeling of being robbed, but on days like today it's difficult to bite back the bitterness. I know that tomorrow I will wake up without the overwhelming heaviness in my heart but I wish more than anything it wouldn't be there in the first place.
My newest philosophy is this one - "pain is the risk we all take for the greatest gift of love." I know you would approve - since you liked every single one of my random quotes and thoughts.
Thank you for that gift. I wouldn't be the person I am right now without you, both the good and the bad, and for that I will be forever grateful.
Love you,
Becky
*******
May you all continue to risk the pain of loss for the greatest gift of love.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
My Stand Down Experience
I don't know what I was expecting when I signed up to volunteer at Stand Down 2011. Honestly, I didn't even know much about it. It started with my participation in a committee at work, an opportunity to get involved. After calling to register, I did a little bit of research to what I had actually just volunteered for...
Stand Down is an event that takes place across the country to provide homeless vets access to services and basic necessities. It's first program started right here in San Diego in 1988 and has been replicated in several states since. At the very least I figured this was my opportunity to give back to the community....
I arrived at Stand Down bright and early Saturday morning at 6am. The volunteer tent seemed a bit disorganized to the outside observer, and I found myself almost instantly annoyed. There wasn't much for me to do, but the organizers were keeping me away from trash duty - and part of me was sincerely grateful for that. Turned out my entire job on Saturday was to stand by the entrance (which was also the entrance to the showers) and greet the participants. At first I was a little caught off-guard. Surely there was something more important to do than stand around all day and smile at people? Surely I didn't wake up at 4am on a Saturday to stand there and smile? I wasn't asking for trash duty, but seriously?
It took me less than 30 minutes to fully realize just how truly important my job was for the day. My favorite mantra is "There's a story everywhere." In the midst of standing and smiling, I had my first of many stories for the weekend. Because of their impact on me I feel compelled to share them with you.
I met Jose as we went searching for his bag in the claim area. He has lost his tickets but desperately wanted to get something out of it. He described the bag to the workers inside the gated area and they went on the hunt. As we waited, he and I started talking. I asked what he was looking for in his bag and he informed me that his Engineering book was the only thing in there. He just wanted to get it, to make sure it was there, to read a little bit and then give it back. He began to tell me about going to school - the GI bill was paying for tuition and books and he was going to make the most of it. Then Jose told me he lived out of his car. It was then I learned that while the GI bill can help our vets return to school, it doesn't cover housing. Jose, a 26 year old veteran, was attending college while living in his car. But he didn't care. He just wanted to do well in his classes, get past the events that happened while he was on duty, and become an engineer. We found Jose's bag after a bit of a search and we sent him on his way.
My next encounter was with a man walking towards the shower. We exchanged pleasantries briefly as he tried to beat the rush. I took note of the vest he was wearing - Vietnam Veteran, Rangers. I wished him a good shower and figured I'd see him on his way back. And I did. He came back obviously happy about the chance to shower, whistling with an extra little bounce in his step. He walked directly up to me, stood eye-to-eye, looked at my nametag and said, "Thank you Jennifer for your service today." For once in my life, I lost the words to respond. Tears filled my eyes. This gentle man survived a horrific war, was now fighting the street life of San Diego, and thanked ME for waking up at 4am.
The remainder of Saturday was filled with men addressing me by name, shaking my hand. I stood, I smiled, and at times I fought back tears. I learned that most of the participants were simply looking for a place to live and their attendance was in the hopes that one of the participating organizations could help find permanent housing. And then I learned that the wait list for permanent housing here has over 800 people. The amount of time it will take the clear that list.....
My second encounter in the clothing tent was a man, his wife and their 13 year old grandson. I took the father and grandson while another volunteer went with the wife. There was something about that child that drew me to him. He looked so uncomfortable walking around the tent, so embarrassed to be there. It struck me that here he was, living with grandparents who didn't have the money or the health to take care of him, to raise him the way I had been raised. He was quiet, reserved. We dug a little bit and found what I considered the best items on the table (from a shopper's perspective), including a Hollister shirt with the tags still attached, some button-downs and some t-shirts that a 13 year old would be okay wearing. I shook his hand as we walked out of the tent.
And then there was Dave, a man from New Mexico who only wanted a new pair of eyeglasses and a shave. First thing this morning he asked a co-worker if we knew anyone who wanted a cat. His travel companion, a 2 year old cat, was living in the car. He had the cat trained, it was a good cat he said, but he realized he just couldn't take the best care of Solomon anymore. Not living in his car. What an incredibly hard decision that had to be.....what a heartbreaking decision to make.
These are just a few of the stories that Stand Down brought into my life. 1,003 San Diego veterans participated in the activities this weekend. Men, women, children, infants. And today, a father and the tiniest newborn I'd ever seen. From my discussions with event organizers, they had to turn people away because of capacity. And the fear is that as our boys come back from this war, the numbers of participants will only continue to rise over the next 10 years. As a nation we are incredible when it comes to a crisis. The collective "we" bonds together in times like Katrina or international tragedies like Haiti and Japan. And yet, we are turning a blind eye to an ongoing crisis on our own streets. Our government is pulling back on resources and funding for programs that are designed to help.
I talked to a long-time volunteer today about my job yesterday of smiling - and she said, "Because outside of here they are invisible Jennifer. Your acknowledgement of their existence is sometimes all they need to brighten their days." That statement alone breaks my heart. My personal belief is a hand-up, not a hand-out - which is really all that most of these people wanted this weekend. Stand Down was truly the most humbling experience of my life. On an given day we could all find ourselves in similar situations, just looking for a smile and a hand up. I have found myself suddenly grateful for all that I have and a desire to continue to offer that smile any way that I can. My greatest hope is that our collective "we" can all do the same......
Stand Down is an event that takes place across the country to provide homeless vets access to services and basic necessities. It's first program started right here in San Diego in 1988 and has been replicated in several states since. At the very least I figured this was my opportunity to give back to the community....
I arrived at Stand Down bright and early Saturday morning at 6am. The volunteer tent seemed a bit disorganized to the outside observer, and I found myself almost instantly annoyed. There wasn't much for me to do, but the organizers were keeping me away from trash duty - and part of me was sincerely grateful for that. Turned out my entire job on Saturday was to stand by the entrance (which was also the entrance to the showers) and greet the participants. At first I was a little caught off-guard. Surely there was something more important to do than stand around all day and smile at people? Surely I didn't wake up at 4am on a Saturday to stand there and smile? I wasn't asking for trash duty, but seriously?
It took me less than 30 minutes to fully realize just how truly important my job was for the day. My favorite mantra is "There's a story everywhere." In the midst of standing and smiling, I had my first of many stories for the weekend. Because of their impact on me I feel compelled to share them with you.
I met Jose as we went searching for his bag in the claim area. He has lost his tickets but desperately wanted to get something out of it. He described the bag to the workers inside the gated area and they went on the hunt. As we waited, he and I started talking. I asked what he was looking for in his bag and he informed me that his Engineering book was the only thing in there. He just wanted to get it, to make sure it was there, to read a little bit and then give it back. He began to tell me about going to school - the GI bill was paying for tuition and books and he was going to make the most of it. Then Jose told me he lived out of his car. It was then I learned that while the GI bill can help our vets return to school, it doesn't cover housing. Jose, a 26 year old veteran, was attending college while living in his car. But he didn't care. He just wanted to do well in his classes, get past the events that happened while he was on duty, and become an engineer. We found Jose's bag after a bit of a search and we sent him on his way.
My next encounter was with a man walking towards the shower. We exchanged pleasantries briefly as he tried to beat the rush. I took note of the vest he was wearing - Vietnam Veteran, Rangers. I wished him a good shower and figured I'd see him on his way back. And I did. He came back obviously happy about the chance to shower, whistling with an extra little bounce in his step. He walked directly up to me, stood eye-to-eye, looked at my nametag and said, "Thank you Jennifer for your service today." For once in my life, I lost the words to respond. Tears filled my eyes. This gentle man survived a horrific war, was now fighting the street life of San Diego, and thanked ME for waking up at 4am.
The remainder of Saturday was filled with men addressing me by name, shaking my hand. I stood, I smiled, and at times I fought back tears. I learned that most of the participants were simply looking for a place to live and their attendance was in the hopes that one of the participating organizations could help find permanent housing. And then I learned that the wait list for permanent housing here has over 800 people. The amount of time it will take the clear that list.....
My second encounter in the clothing tent was a man, his wife and their 13 year old grandson. I took the father and grandson while another volunteer went with the wife. There was something about that child that drew me to him. He looked so uncomfortable walking around the tent, so embarrassed to be there. It struck me that here he was, living with grandparents who didn't have the money or the health to take care of him, to raise him the way I had been raised. He was quiet, reserved. We dug a little bit and found what I considered the best items on the table (from a shopper's perspective), including a Hollister shirt with the tags still attached, some button-downs and some t-shirts that a 13 year old would be okay wearing. I shook his hand as we walked out of the tent.
And then there was Dave, a man from New Mexico who only wanted a new pair of eyeglasses and a shave. First thing this morning he asked a co-worker if we knew anyone who wanted a cat. His travel companion, a 2 year old cat, was living in the car. He had the cat trained, it was a good cat he said, but he realized he just couldn't take the best care of Solomon anymore. Not living in his car. What an incredibly hard decision that had to be.....what a heartbreaking decision to make.
These are just a few of the stories that Stand Down brought into my life. 1,003 San Diego veterans participated in the activities this weekend. Men, women, children, infants. And today, a father and the tiniest newborn I'd ever seen. From my discussions with event organizers, they had to turn people away because of capacity. And the fear is that as our boys come back from this war, the numbers of participants will only continue to rise over the next 10 years. As a nation we are incredible when it comes to a crisis. The collective "we" bonds together in times like Katrina or international tragedies like Haiti and Japan. And yet, we are turning a blind eye to an ongoing crisis on our own streets. Our government is pulling back on resources and funding for programs that are designed to help.
I talked to a long-time volunteer today about my job yesterday of smiling - and she said, "Because outside of here they are invisible Jennifer. Your acknowledgement of their existence is sometimes all they need to brighten their days." That statement alone breaks my heart. My personal belief is a hand-up, not a hand-out - which is really all that most of these people wanted this weekend. Stand Down was truly the most humbling experience of my life. On an given day we could all find ourselves in similar situations, just looking for a smile and a hand up. I have found myself suddenly grateful for all that I have and a desire to continue to offer that smile any way that I can. My greatest hope is that our collective "we" can all do the same......
Saturday, July 16, 2011
The Baby Game...
So now it's happened twice. The first time I convinced myself I was imaging things....but now....
The conversation started off innocently enough. Each conversation with my father has started the same way. The typical "How was your day" turned and suddenly I found myself on a completely foreign planet. Here's how it went from there:
Dad: "I ran into so-and-so's dad today."
Me: "Really? That's cool."
Dad: "Yeah, she's on her THIRD kid. Things must be going REALLY well for her if she's already on her THIRD kid."
Me: (slightly uncomfortable here) "Must be....good to know things are going well for her."
Dad: "Yep. She's what? A year older than you?"
Me: "Yes dad, she graduated a year ahead of me."
Dad: "Yep, things must be going really well....married, and on her third kid."
Insert subject change here.
My father and I haven't really ever been extremely close. Up until the day my mom died, most of our conversations consisted of, "How's the car? You eating well? Need any money?" And in the two and a half years since, it's been pretty quiet on the get married/have babies front.
As I hung up the phone that night, I was immediately taken back to the last time I had been confronted with that question from my family. My mother had already gotten the diagnosis and was in the middle of her chemo and radiation. I had become the unofficial wicker basket for all of her emotions - her fears, her worries. She and I talked every night for hours at a time while I let her rail against the world that had been so cruel to her while she had been nothing but good to it. One particularly bad chemo day my mother was confronted with her own mortality and that night she decided to needed to share a conversation she had with my father. She was telling him about what she feared most about the cancer....and then she hit me with it. "I'm really afraid I'm going to die before Becky gets married. I'm afraid I'll never see her have children." (Side note here, I'M Becky)
It was like getting hit with by a semi - every ounce of my core hurt. It took my breath away. I fought back tears as she continued the conversation, oblivious to the impact that one statement had. And then I went into assurance mode - that she would beat the cancer, that she would be okay, that one day she would watch me get married and one day I would introduce her to her grandchildren. In a way, I was trying to convince myself just as much as I was trying to convince her.
And then I went on a mission. Trust me, I tried to find a guy that would marry me after only knowing me for 48 hours, but apparently that's more stalker-status than anything else. Time passed...and just a few short months later my mother entered the hospital and never came home. I never got married.
That was the last time I was asked about marriage and babies. My sister welcomed my beautiful niece into the world and the focus was turned there. I was saved from the idea that I wasn't able to give my mother what she wanted before she died.
So now it's been two and half years and apparently it's time to start bothering the 32 year old youngest daughter about marriage and babies. My brother has 1, my sister has 1.....guess it's just time according to everyone. One person I work with told me that I needed to settle down soon because I "would make a great mother." I'm used to it from friends and well-meaninged random people. BUT MY FATHER?
I just can't seem to find the words to tell him that ever since that phone call a year ago I've been in an internal struggle with even having babies. So for now, I'll continue to say the line I've perfected - "A little after now and sometime before never." Seems like a pretty good tagline for my life. And I'll keep reminding myself that even without kids, I'm living a very good life.
The conversation started off innocently enough. Each conversation with my father has started the same way. The typical "How was your day" turned and suddenly I found myself on a completely foreign planet. Here's how it went from there:
Dad: "I ran into so-and-so's dad today."
Me: "Really? That's cool."
Dad: "Yeah, she's on her THIRD kid. Things must be going REALLY well for her if she's already on her THIRD kid."
Me: (slightly uncomfortable here) "Must be....good to know things are going well for her."
Dad: "Yep. She's what? A year older than you?"
Me: "Yes dad, she graduated a year ahead of me."
Dad: "Yep, things must be going really well....married, and on her third kid."
Insert subject change here.
My father and I haven't really ever been extremely close. Up until the day my mom died, most of our conversations consisted of, "How's the car? You eating well? Need any money?" And in the two and a half years since, it's been pretty quiet on the get married/have babies front.
As I hung up the phone that night, I was immediately taken back to the last time I had been confronted with that question from my family. My mother had already gotten the diagnosis and was in the middle of her chemo and radiation. I had become the unofficial wicker basket for all of her emotions - her fears, her worries. She and I talked every night for hours at a time while I let her rail against the world that had been so cruel to her while she had been nothing but good to it. One particularly bad chemo day my mother was confronted with her own mortality and that night she decided to needed to share a conversation she had with my father. She was telling him about what she feared most about the cancer....and then she hit me with it. "I'm really afraid I'm going to die before Becky gets married. I'm afraid I'll never see her have children." (Side note here, I'M Becky)
It was like getting hit with by a semi - every ounce of my core hurt. It took my breath away. I fought back tears as she continued the conversation, oblivious to the impact that one statement had. And then I went into assurance mode - that she would beat the cancer, that she would be okay, that one day she would watch me get married and one day I would introduce her to her grandchildren. In a way, I was trying to convince myself just as much as I was trying to convince her.
And then I went on a mission. Trust me, I tried to find a guy that would marry me after only knowing me for 48 hours, but apparently that's more stalker-status than anything else. Time passed...and just a few short months later my mother entered the hospital and never came home. I never got married.
That was the last time I was asked about marriage and babies. My sister welcomed my beautiful niece into the world and the focus was turned there. I was saved from the idea that I wasn't able to give my mother what she wanted before she died.
So now it's been two and half years and apparently it's time to start bothering the 32 year old youngest daughter about marriage and babies. My brother has 1, my sister has 1.....guess it's just time according to everyone. One person I work with told me that I needed to settle down soon because I "would make a great mother." I'm used to it from friends and well-meaninged random people. BUT MY FATHER?
I just can't seem to find the words to tell him that ever since that phone call a year ago I've been in an internal struggle with even having babies. So for now, I'll continue to say the line I've perfected - "A little after now and sometime before never." Seems like a pretty good tagline for my life. And I'll keep reminding myself that even without kids, I'm living a very good life.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Reflections
It's been quite some time since I posted to this blog...apparently I'm not very good at the whole blogging thing, but since I got such good feedback from the first couple of posts I've decided to give it a whirl again.
Every year right around this time, as I move closer and closer to another birthday in the books, I start to get a little sentimental and reflect back on my life - where I've been, who I am, and where I'm going. Because this whole thing is about my journey through singlehood that's where I'll focus my energy tonight...
I have commitment issues. Let's face it, there are plenty of times when having a man around would come in handy - like when the trash needs to get to the dumpster or when I can't open a jar. However, I've gotten very good at pounding that jar on the countertop in just the right way. I've adapted. But I wasn't always like this. 11 years ago this month I met the greatest man I've ever known. He was kind, gentle, the best friend anyone could have ever asked for. I was safe for the first time in my life. I opened up, poured out my heart, gave everything I had. He never once took me for granted, and never once did he use anything I told him against me. Of course, based on my fantastic history I frequently questioned whether I was good enough for him - but he never did. And he never let me believe that I wasn't. I had it all.
Unfortunately, life got in our way. And then, much too soon, a tragic accident threw my entire world upside-down. Reflecting back, I suppose this was the beginning of my downward spiral with commitment issues. My dating life, from that point on, became a comedy of errors. I stayed in bad relationships too long, picked the completely wrong men, made stupid choices. I allowed myself to be mistreated, used, and broken. One day, during a pretty vicious mental attack on myself I said this - "You had the best once and you lost it. That's all there is." I'd been living in that grief, thinking that I wasn't allowed to be happy again, to love again, because I had let life interfere. I'd been punishing myself for something that wasn't anywhere near logical. But simply having that realization and doing something about it are two completely different things.
The truth is I hate dating. If you look back at my adventures in dating there's one clear pattern - I've never dated anyone I haven't already known as a friend. Perhaps that's my way of cutting through the BS before jumping in the dating pool. Perhaps it's because first dates annoy me. Perhaps that's simply because I feel much safer in a relationship with someone who already knows me. Or perhaps, at the quietest moments of life, I'm still punishing myself.
This past week I taught a class on moving forward on your journey through grief. The basic premise of the entire class was this - "Make a commitment to yourself....and then get out of your own way." An hour and a half later, I had the class on board with that one point. But was I on board with it? I had a 30 minute drive back to the office to reflect on that - and decided I needed to start following my own (very good) advice. So that day, Tuesday, I made the commitment to get out of my own way. While I'm only beginning that journey, I think I have started off fairly well....
So that's my advice. It may not speak to you at all, or it may be something that starts a internal debate. Either way, it will continue to be my own mantra. My final thought for the night is to share the lyrics of John Mayer's song....time to stop punishing yourself and get out of your own way.
"Say"
Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only . . .
Say what you need to say
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Say what you need to say
Every year right around this time, as I move closer and closer to another birthday in the books, I start to get a little sentimental and reflect back on my life - where I've been, who I am, and where I'm going. Because this whole thing is about my journey through singlehood that's where I'll focus my energy tonight...
I have commitment issues. Let's face it, there are plenty of times when having a man around would come in handy - like when the trash needs to get to the dumpster or when I can't open a jar. However, I've gotten very good at pounding that jar on the countertop in just the right way. I've adapted. But I wasn't always like this. 11 years ago this month I met the greatest man I've ever known. He was kind, gentle, the best friend anyone could have ever asked for. I was safe for the first time in my life. I opened up, poured out my heart, gave everything I had. He never once took me for granted, and never once did he use anything I told him against me. Of course, based on my fantastic history I frequently questioned whether I was good enough for him - but he never did. And he never let me believe that I wasn't. I had it all.
Unfortunately, life got in our way. And then, much too soon, a tragic accident threw my entire world upside-down. Reflecting back, I suppose this was the beginning of my downward spiral with commitment issues. My dating life, from that point on, became a comedy of errors. I stayed in bad relationships too long, picked the completely wrong men, made stupid choices. I allowed myself to be mistreated, used, and broken. One day, during a pretty vicious mental attack on myself I said this - "You had the best once and you lost it. That's all there is." I'd been living in that grief, thinking that I wasn't allowed to be happy again, to love again, because I had let life interfere. I'd been punishing myself for something that wasn't anywhere near logical. But simply having that realization and doing something about it are two completely different things.
The truth is I hate dating. If you look back at my adventures in dating there's one clear pattern - I've never dated anyone I haven't already known as a friend. Perhaps that's my way of cutting through the BS before jumping in the dating pool. Perhaps it's because first dates annoy me. Perhaps that's simply because I feel much safer in a relationship with someone who already knows me. Or perhaps, at the quietest moments of life, I'm still punishing myself.
This past week I taught a class on moving forward on your journey through grief. The basic premise of the entire class was this - "Make a commitment to yourself....and then get out of your own way." An hour and a half later, I had the class on board with that one point. But was I on board with it? I had a 30 minute drive back to the office to reflect on that - and decided I needed to start following my own (very good) advice. So that day, Tuesday, I made the commitment to get out of my own way. While I'm only beginning that journey, I think I have started off fairly well....
So that's my advice. It may not speak to you at all, or it may be something that starts a internal debate. Either way, it will continue to be my own mantra. My final thought for the night is to share the lyrics of John Mayer's song....time to stop punishing yourself and get out of your own way.
"Say"
Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only . . .
Say what you need to say
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Say what you need to say
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Even the strong falter....
I'd like to think I'm a strong, independent woman. I have a Master's degree, have lived on my own since the age of 19, pay my own bills, and have one hell of a nice wardrobe. I have friends (but most of them are married), I go out to restaurants and happy hours, I've joined a rec league for sports and I've gone to movies by myself when no one else was available.
I'm comfortable with me. I LIKE me. Well, at least most of the time.
I'm usually just trucking along, liking my life, cooking my own dinner when some random event comes and slaps me in the face. And then, like most people (or so I would like to believe), the little voice inside my head starts with the trash-talking.
Most recently? Both of my best friends are pregnant.
I haven't gone out on a date in months. In fairness (or to make myself feel a little less like a loser - stupid voice in my head), I've been working like crazy and preparing for a licensing exam that could shoot my career to a whole new level. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
I have friends who date. A lot. And friends who think I need to date. A lot.
Again, I'm comfortable with me. I like me. But sometimes......
You can only hear so many people talking about how you should be married, or having guys you used to know tell you they're surprised you're single (because there's no way you have a hard time finding a man), or people telling you that 32 only gives you a few more years to start a family before you really start to question whether your life is going well.
So okay, I faltered. Yes, I did it. I bought a book. It's called "The Mojo Makeover." Because, apparently, there is something wrong with me. I'm 31 and single for crying out loud. What's wrong with me???
AHHH! I'm single. I can't get a man. I haven't dated in forever, and the last date I went on was with a man I've dated before. When AM I going to get married? Why CAN'T I get married? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Sorry, the little voice in my head came screaming out.
It took a few days (okay weeks) to open the book, but when I did I was pleasantly surprised. This was not a, "You're a loser who can't get a man" book. And this writer doesn't tell me that I need to have a man to be great. This is about the great me, being better. I'm not sure, but I think it's better than the bazillion people who think they should be commenting on my life. Weird to think a total stranger writes in such a way that I don't feel like a moron without a husbad.....
This book may be the silencer of the little voice in my head. At least until the next time someone asks, "When are YOU getting married?"
I'm comfortable with me. I LIKE me. Well, at least most of the time.
I'm usually just trucking along, liking my life, cooking my own dinner when some random event comes and slaps me in the face. And then, like most people (or so I would like to believe), the little voice inside my head starts with the trash-talking.
Most recently? Both of my best friends are pregnant.
I haven't gone out on a date in months. In fairness (or to make myself feel a little less like a loser - stupid voice in my head), I've been working like crazy and preparing for a licensing exam that could shoot my career to a whole new level. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
I have friends who date. A lot. And friends who think I need to date. A lot.
Again, I'm comfortable with me. I like me. But sometimes......
You can only hear so many people talking about how you should be married, or having guys you used to know tell you they're surprised you're single (because there's no way you have a hard time finding a man), or people telling you that 32 only gives you a few more years to start a family before you really start to question whether your life is going well.
So okay, I faltered. Yes, I did it. I bought a book. It's called "The Mojo Makeover." Because, apparently, there is something wrong with me. I'm 31 and single for crying out loud. What's wrong with me???
AHHH! I'm single. I can't get a man. I haven't dated in forever, and the last date I went on was with a man I've dated before. When AM I going to get married? Why CAN'T I get married? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Sorry, the little voice in my head came screaming out.
It took a few days (okay weeks) to open the book, but when I did I was pleasantly surprised. This was not a, "You're a loser who can't get a man" book. And this writer doesn't tell me that I need to have a man to be great. This is about the great me, being better. I'm not sure, but I think it's better than the bazillion people who think they should be commenting on my life. Weird to think a total stranger writes in such a way that I don't feel like a moron without a husbad.....
This book may be the silencer of the little voice in my head. At least until the next time someone asks, "When are YOU getting married?"
Yes, I'm single.
I'm going to be 32 this year. And yes, I'm single.
And before you even go there - no, I'm not a lesbian.
Apparently you get to a point in your life where people believe that after a certain age, with no man in sight, with no prospects of marriage on the horizon, well then, there must be something wrong with you. Case in point: I was at work one day talking with co-workers about visiting some particular So-Cal place. I used the word "We"....and that's where it started. Below is the conversation that ensued....
Co-Worker (who by the way is a lot older): "Oh, so you and your husband?"
Me: "No, I'm not married."
Co-Worker: "Oh......" dramatic pause here, and it really did happen. "Your.......partner?"
Really? REALLY? So at 31, if I'm not married with children, if people like me and think I'm a good catch, then I MUST be a lesbian?
Here's another conversation that happened recently (please keep in mind here that I'm single):
Other person: "So when are you getting married?"
Me: "Somewhere between now and never."
Other person: "You really need to get married soon Jen, because you would make SUCH a great mom."
Me: "Thanks?" (In my head I was thinking - maybe, but last time I checked I didn't need to get married for that)
So this is the blog of my life as an almost 32-year old single female and all of the wonderfully fun and exciting moments that pop up as my friends tell me they're getting married or having babies or settling down or what not and question what's actually wrong with me in the process.
More dramatic stories to come.
And before you even go there - no, I'm not a lesbian.
Apparently you get to a point in your life where people believe that after a certain age, with no man in sight, with no prospects of marriage on the horizon, well then, there must be something wrong with you. Case in point: I was at work one day talking with co-workers about visiting some particular So-Cal place. I used the word "We"....and that's where it started. Below is the conversation that ensued....
Co-Worker (who by the way is a lot older): "Oh, so you and your husband?"
Me: "No, I'm not married."
Co-Worker: "Oh......" dramatic pause here, and it really did happen. "Your.......partner?"
Really? REALLY? So at 31, if I'm not married with children, if people like me and think I'm a good catch, then I MUST be a lesbian?
Here's another conversation that happened recently (please keep in mind here that I'm single):
Other person: "So when are you getting married?"
Me: "Somewhere between now and never."
Other person: "You really need to get married soon Jen, because you would make SUCH a great mom."
Me: "Thanks?" (In my head I was thinking - maybe, but last time I checked I didn't need to get married for that)
So this is the blog of my life as an almost 32-year old single female and all of the wonderfully fun and exciting moments that pop up as my friends tell me they're getting married or having babies or settling down or what not and question what's actually wrong with me in the process.
More dramatic stories to come.
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