Thin Skin. A Side Effect of Grief?

I used to be what most people would call thick skinned.  I wasn't emotional about things (well, most things).  Heck, I was in the military.  I took what was dished out and dished out my own in return.  I won awards for being able to stand up to pressure and got promoted based on being able to stand up for myself.  I used to be the "there's no crying in baseball" kind of person.  The one who couldn't understand why when I had to correct someone, they might start to cry.  Who would stand dry eyed in a life and death situation, yet tear up at the national anthem.  Then my daughter died. 

Some would say I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, just like a soldier coming home from a war zone.  I say pish posh to that.  But I do share at least one symptom with those that truly suffer from that.  My skin is thinner.  I can't quite take the rough rudeness of the public.  The world is abrasive on my skin, in almost a literal sense sometimes.  The smallest, most inconsequential things can tip the scales on whether I am going to have a good day or a bad day.

Driving to work, someone honks at me or flips me the bird for not taking off fast enough at a green light; on the wrong day that can put me in tears.  On any day it is deflating.  It is so hard to stay buoyant anyway, that every little pin someone sticks in my balloon sinks me down just a little bit lower.

A woman at work today was complaining about people in the elevator asking her to push their floor button for them.  Our elevator is unusual because the buttons are on both sides, but most people don't realize it getting in, if they aren't regulars.  She was miffed at this and said she just pointed at the buttons so they could do it themselves.  She is young.  Perhaps she hasn't been hurt yet.  She is a nice young woman, but can't understand how a small kindness can help someone get through the day and while a small slight isn't likely to ruin their day, what is wrong with taking the kind route?  I hope she never has to learn this lesson in a hard way like I had to; I recognize that I used to be just the same way.

At work, I might make a mistake (it happens a lot!); some people can say to me "hey, that isn't right" and my ears hear "hey, let me help you get that right;" certain other people say the same thing and my ears hear "why are you so stupid?".  
Today I asked three different people at work to help me with a very small task; just something fun on the lines of a 'let's get to know each other and keep the office a personal place' and all three politely declined.  None gave a particular reason, but it was really deflating; after all, I am HR, it is my job to keep the people happy and engaged.  After the third one, I was tearing up and had to shut my door.  I gave up.  I won't ask anyone else.  My day that had started out exceptionally well, turned dreary and sad all for things that wouldn't have touched me three years ago. 

I often feel judged and defensive of my opinions and ideas in a way that I wouldn't have before too.  If I offer my opinion about something and it isn't regarded politely (I don't mean agreeing with me is mandatory, just hearing my side and acknowledging it), I become very defensive.  I love a good debate on any topic, always have, but now I seldom enter them except with those I trust the very most...basically my husband and my son....because to have my opinion belittled, ignored , or misconstrued is too difficult and will ruin my mood, my day and possibly even my relationship with the person.  This too is new...before I would have just told the person to piss off and went out for a beer with them.
All of this is new to me and when I'm trying to define the new me in my new normal, I have to consider these changes.  Much like a returned veteran may jump at a car backfire or fireworks, I jump at unkind words and actions.  And therefore, I most often try to remember that others are suffering too, and try to be kind myself, even when I am stressed or rushed or defensive.  I don't always succeed, but I certainly know it when I have failed and it makes me feel miserable.

Stop Kony 2012?

Ok, so this is off topic for me, but it is really on my nerves.  What is up with the gullibility of Americans?  Why does a well placed advertisement get the attention that the major legitimate news media (oxymoron?) does not?  Why do people blindly follow without asking any questions?  It is so easy to click and share, without further thought.  Keep this in mind though:  A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to put its pants on. ~ Winston Churchill.

I admit freely that I am like 99.9% of Americans:  grossly undereducated about the problems outside of our own borders (and inside too, for that matter), so when I see something as emotional and thought provoking as the Kony Video, I want to know what's up. For real, what's up, not what the videographer wants me to think is up.  Because when something seems too good (or bad) to be true, it should be questioned.  Fortunately for me, there is the internet, just waiting for my queries.

Before you stop reading and start hating, let me acknowledge that Kony is a very bad man.  In fact there are a lot of very bad people involved in the situation(s) in Africa.  It is a bad situation, and a good cause in general; however, Invisible Children is a business.  Non-profit to be sure, but a business.  People get the idea that non-profit agencies do good at no benefit to themselves, but that is an illusion based on the questionable title "non-profit".  All non-profit means is that the organization itself doesn't make a profit (or pay taxes); which makes it very easy for them to offer lavish salaries and perks to their executives, work out of spacious, well-appointed facilities, and spend tons of money on advertising so they can raise their salaries and improve their facilities, while often giving back little to the cause they proclaim to support.

Before opening my wallet to any charity, I want to know how my money is being used.  There are legitimate organizations out there that audit charities and report this information.  "Invisible Children" chooses not to associate itself with one of the largest:  the Better Business Bureau Wise Giving Alliance. 

From their website:  Despite written BBB Wise Giving Alliance requests in the past year, this organization either has not responded to Alliance requests for information or has declined to be evaluated in relation to the Alliance’s Standards for Charity Accountability. While participation in the Alliance’s charity review efforts is voluntary, the Alliance believes that failure to participate may demonstrate a lack of commitment to transparency. Without the requested information, the Alliance cannot determine if this charity adheres to the Standards for Charity Accountability. A charity's willing disclosure of information beyond that typically included in its financial statements and government filings is, in the Alliance's view, an expression of openness that strengthens public trust in the charitable sector.
However, as a non-profit organization, Invisible Children must make their finance public, so you can see for yourself (albeit without the accounting tools that BBB uses).  Here is a link to their 2011 budget.

Last year, the organization spent $8,676,614.  Only 32% went to direct services, while  $1,074,273 was allocated to travel and $1,724,993 was allocated to staff compensation.  Note that direct services doesn't in any way imply effective services.

What is effective services?   Just as it sounds:  doing something that actually causes a change or improves the situation.  This self-aggrandizing video does nothing of the sort.  It simply implies that they want to get government intervention, when in fact their goal is to get you (actually people much richer than you) to open your wallet.  There is an excellent analysis of the actual situation in Uganda at this link:  LA Times/World Now.

From that article:  TMS Ruge, co-founder of online platform Project Diaspora: "This IC campaign is a perfect example of how fund-sucking NGO’s survive. “Raising awareness” (as vapid an exercise as it is) on the level that IC does, costs money. Loads and loads of money. Someone has to pay for the executive staff, fancy offices, and well, that 30-minute grand-savior, self-crowning exercise in ego stroking — in HD — wasn’t free. In all this kerfuffle, I am afraid everyone is missing the true aim of IC’s brilliant marketing strategy.

Fred Opolot, Ugandan government spokesman, quoted in the Telegraph: “It is totally misleading to suggest that the war is still in Uganda. I suspect that if that’s the impression they are making, they are doing it only to garner increasing financial resources for their own agenda.”

Read it for yourself people.  Research is nothing but a Google search away.  This whole situation reminds me of Greg Mortenson and his book Three Cups of Tea.  Mortenson took a tiny bit of fact and built an entirely fictional story around it.  He fooled Oprah, Obama and the US government into believing his claims.  He used his Non-profit organization as a "personal ATM machine" while accomplishing very little in his mission of building schools and educating Pakistani women.  I got the book, by chapter 3, I told my husband this story is to fantastical to be true and sure enough, my cynicism was yet again rewarded.  You can read the 60 Minutes story for yourself.  It is quite disturbing.

Invisible Children watched and learned.  Like Mortenson's Non-Profit "Central Asia Institute" there is enough good going on to fool people into thinking by supporting it, they can make a difference.  But do you want only 30 cents of every dollar you donate going to "try to" help children (albeit in an oversimplified and misguided way) while 70% supports the infrastructure of the organization itself?  I suspect we'll hearing a lot more about this organization in the near future and not all of it will be flattering. 

I'll give my money elsewhere and my prayers to the children of Africa.

Happy Birthday Michaela

Today Michaela would have been 24.  Amazing.  I can imagine the kind of woman she would have been.  It is strange to miss something that never was. 
People often ask me about Michaela's art.  She was amazingly talented (like her brother), but she didn't really focus on art.  She really loved the written word.  She wrote poems and thoughts and lyrics to songs she liked.  She journaled her entire life.  She was often sad and lonely, yet somehow brought light and love to other people.  Few recognized her sadness. 
Since so many people have asked about her art, for her birthday I am giving you a special present--from her.  These are excerpts from the art journal that she kept during her summer abroad in 2008.  I hope you enjoy.


This is the first page of the journal.

A Cityscape drawn over a page of journalling.

Pencil drawing.

A pencil drawing of her Italian instructor, Luca.

Her Favorite singer--from the Band "Fall Out Boy".  She was obsessed.

She believed.  I still have that blue Ipod.  It is engraved :).

A bit of anger, perhaps?

Colored pencil drawing of her friend, Erin and her in a car.

A happy day in Valencia, Spain.

The colors of Capri, Italy in watercolor.

Dear Michaela...Past Midnight is not PM.  You never could tell time on a clock, could you?

Not a fan of the bullfight.  I told her she wouldn't like it before she went.

She was so often lonely.  Youth is hard.

She drew this theme several times and told me it illustrated how she felt awakened by her trip to Europe.

The bottom said:  The FIRST THINGS THAT CAME TO MIND 7/9/2008

She got to do a lot while she was there, but had to budget some things out.  A good life lesson.

This speaks for itself. 

I hope you enjoyed this.  I hope you find beauty in your life the way she did in hers.

Labels

When our children are little, psychologists (rightly) tell us to correct a child's behavior without labeling them as "bad".  We are to build their trust in us and confidence that we will love them no matter what.  That is great, all well and good.  But at what point do they start to learn that just because their parents may not label them, the rest of the world is going to?  It is part of our nature; we have to categorize things and people in order for our brains to process everything.  We may not like it, but it is a fact.

The generation just entering adulthood doesn't seem to be getting that fact.  They do as they please and expect instant forgiveness, they violate trust and expect to be trusted again, they post their private lives out on Facebook and expect to be respected, they cheat and then blame the system for making it possible; accountability seems to be a thing of the past.  Except it isn't. 

I remember precisely when I learned this lesson.  I was a freshman in High School.  I had biology with a teacher I liked.  I liked biology just fine and it wasn't difficult for me.  But the teacher made it very easy to cheat on tests and temptation being what it was, I did it (so did almost everyone else).  Then there came a day when someone was mad at me and they decided revenge would be to tell on me in such a way that I would get caught (but nobody else would).  That teacher never forgave me (I know because he talked to my brother about it 4 years later!).  It doesn't matter that I never cheated again.  I was a cheater in his eyes and always would be.  That is when I learned that we can't always just say "I'm sorry" and move on with things.

Labels are real and they are powerful.  They aren't always bad, but the bad ones will cling to you like a leech in the Amazon.  One lie may not make you a liar, but for every lie you tell you will have to tell 10 truths to gain back the trust you lost.  The first time you steal something, doesn't necessarily earn you the label of thief, but once you steal from me, don't expect to be trusted in my home with my valuables.   If you cheat on your school work or are lazy with your college assignments, remember that these instructors are going to be the ones getting calls for references someday.  The last thing a recruiter wants to hear is 'oh, she's smart, but a little bit lazy in her work'.  If you steal from your workplace, either things or time or effort, it will catch up with you, so don't cry when you lose your job and can't get another.

Unfortunately it is much easier to lose a good label.  If you are considered 'honest' or 'helpful' or 'caring' or 'trustworthy' or 'hardworking', it only takes an incident or two to change that label.  Trust is a fragile thing and once it is lost, it is hard work to gain it back.  You can't just wake up one day and announce that you have changed, expecting people to forgive and forget.  You have to live with the situation you built yourself and slowly tear down that wall of perception one brick at a time.

Trust me on this one fact:  People will make assumptions about your future behavior based on your past behavior. 

Now we live in a world of cell phone cameras and YouTube, of Facebook and Twitter.  The cyber world is forever.  There is no 'that was so long ago' any more.  Anything you put on the internet can and will exist forever.  You can delete a tweet, but you can't stop the people who saw it and did a screen capture.  You can close your Facebook account, but you can't stop the people who shared your posts from bringing them back around.  You can think nobody is watching, but there are cameras everywhere these days, just ask that Fed Ex delivery man who threw the TV over the gate. 

I've heard lawyers saying that there will be a huge market in the near future for people changing their names and identities because they can't escape the persona they created for themselves on social networking sites.  All those pictures of red solo cups, slutty clothes, cursing stati, sexual innuendo, gangster threats, racial remarks...those aren't going to just disappear when you decide to grow up and get a decent job and have a family.  The FaceBook timeline should be a hint to you as to how this is going to play out over time.  How will you feel when your own teenage child...the one you are trying to raise to be better at life than you were...comes across what you posted today?

Just my thoughts.

Road Signs of Life

Life is often compared to a journey.  I think that is pretty accurate.  I was thinking about the analogy this week while I was traveling and I decided that life is more specifically like a road trip on a Florida Highway that is constantly under construction.  You have to speed up and slow down and follow the directions on the signs for a safe passage.  Sometimes the road is closed and you have to take a detour.

Along this road you are going to encounter a lot of construction workers whose job is to help you get safely through.  There are three main types of construction workers that seem to pop up in my life (particularly my work life). 

First there is the person who just throws up the "Road Closed" sign and figures they have diligently done their job.  They have kept you safe from the danger ahead, but you are left on your own to find a way around it.  I'm not a big fan of these people.  They feel their job is to build an obstacle.  It seems to make them feel powerful to stop you in your tracks and watch you have to deal with the frustration as you find your own way to the destination.

Next there is the person who puts up the "Detour" signs.  This person is infinitely more helpful than the "Road Closed" person.  Sure, they cause you to slow down, but they also helpfully try to direct you on an alternate path.  Most of the people I encounter (and work with) fall into this category.  They are trying to be helpful, but they only have time to do so much.  They slow you down and you are still frustrated trying to follow the sometimes confusing signs, but eventually you will reach your destination.

Finally, there is the person driving the truck with the big flashing letters that say "Follow Me."  These are my favorite people.  They are few and far between, but when you find one it is a true pleasure.  They not only protect you from the danger ahead, but they take the time to guide you to your destination making sure you don't get lost along the way.  You might be going a little bit slower, but there is no frustration in following the "Follow Me" person.  There is peace in knowing they know the way and are going to put themselves out to make sure you find the way too. 

I like to think of myself as the "Follow Me" person, but I know I don't always succeed, sometimes I just stick up the "Detour" signs.  I hope I am never the "Road Closed" person, either at work or as I interact with anyone traveling their own highway.   Which person are you?

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

Parenting.  What an incredibly difficult thing!  The sheer amount of responsibility is overwhelming when you think about it.  Would you apply for this job?

Mother Needed:  Must be available 24/7 and commit to this job for the rest of your life.  There is no way to sever this contract legally or otherwise.  Must take complete responsibility of project from inception to completion.  Must provide own transportation, food, shelter, and utilities and also provide same for Employer.  Employer will be completely dependent on you for the first several stages of the project.  You are responsible for keeping the employer alive and safe.  You are also responsible for teaching the employer basic life skills such as walking, talking and feeding themselves.  Following basic skills add such things as reading, math, history and social skills.  Eventually add advanced skills such as driving a car and balancing a checkbook.  Additionally you must instill values into the Employer to include honesty, integrity, and compassion.  Employer will not always be cooperative.  Costs associated with this position tend to increase with time; it is recommended that you have a second job or more.  You will be held responsible for the mistakes Employer makes for a minimum of 18 years, possibly longer.  There are no sick days or vacation; however, if Employer is sick you must provide adequate medical care.  There is no pay for this position.  There is no experience or education required.

Yet so many people do it!  Ready or not.  Able or not.  Most of us figure it out through trial and error.  Most of us do not become child abusers or deadbeats or do really much at all that messes up a child for life in any major way.  We are very good at protecting our children.  Sometimes I think we are too good at it.  I often look at my children and contemplate the concepts of Nature Vs. Nurture.   But I do know, for a fact, that for many years, the formative years, the parent is the only source of information that is treated as reliable; so parents, please be careful.  Take fear for example.  Just because something scared you doesn't mean it will necessarily scare your child...unless you tell them that it is scary. 

Example 1:  My son is terrified of roller coasters (but not heights and he has skydived).  His dad is also terrified of roller coasters (and heights in general).  I don't know whether his dad's fear affected his own.  I don't know if his dad or I told stories about his fear of roller coasters.  Most likely we did.  I don't know if this kind of fear is genetic.  What I do know is that roller coasters are quite safe in general and if I had an opportunity to start over, I would make a point of never mentioning to him that his dad was afraid of them. 


Example 2:  I was sitting down to watch a movie with my grand kids.  The oldest (age 6) said to me, "We're going to be scared by this movie."  I said, "Oh?  What makes you think so?"  She said, "My mom told me that she and my dad were scared by it when they were little."  The kids loved the movie and were not scared, but it is an example of just how seriously our kids take our own fears. 

Example 3:  The real inspiration for this blog is a coworker.  I don't think she'll mind, since it has become quite the ongoing conversation for us (to my eternal hilarity).  This woman is a college educated professional, but she has a long list of fears and phobias that I just love to make fun of.  She grew up in a sheltered environment in a home where mom was the final say on things and her mom was full of folk wisdom that she had heard (and believed) from her own mom and readily passed on to her daughter.  Some of the things I've heard from her recently include pregnant people attract sharks, sex with old people causes worms (which you get rid of by drinking a beer), and you can't go outside for 6 weeks after having a baby.  All just words of wisdom passed on by a loving mother doing her best to keep her baby safe. 

There are a million mistakes parents make.  I know I made more than my share.  Kids are built to survive regardless of how inept we are, but they do learn from us.  From what we say and what we do and how we treat people.  And they might also learn from what we fear.  So do your kid a favor if you can, let them develop their own crazy little phobias, don't pass on yours.

Dear Michaela

Dear Michaela,

Sorry it's been so long since I've written.  I hope all is well where you are.  Things are going just fine here.  This winter has been much warmer than the last two.  I even jumped in the pool the other day.  Yeah, I know, we got all the cool things after you left.  Being practical didn't seem quite so important any more. 

Your brother was here for three weeks over Christmas!  He is looking so good.  Doing well in school and his art is amazing.  He even took after you and stuck with being an RA, although he certainly doesn't love the job the way you did.  It pays the bills though.  He is going through the stress of grad school applications that you went through three Christmas' ago, but he knows better than to mention taking a year off; he saw where that got you.  He is still having problems sleeping.  He needs comfort, so if you have the time, drop him a line sometime. 

Of course you know about the problems the other kids are having.  I am much more patient than I used to be.  I realize each time, that it could be worse.  And I try to remember your philosophy of forgive, forgive, forgive.  But I know you would be frustrated too.  It is hard to watch someone you love make bad decisions.  I wonder if you got to hold little Miley before she came down to us?  Did you fill her in on all the important stuff?

So this is what I do sometimes.  I just pretend that you are away in some exotic location where communication is very difficult.  It isn't so hard for me to do.  Remember I grew up in a time before computers and cell phones.  When you were a baby in Germany we had to rely on the mail to send real film pictures back to our families and could only afford a phone call once a month or so.  I figure you are sort of in the same situation.  You have to save up to send messages and then just hope they don't get lost in the mail.  I try to remain open and alert so I don't miss them. 

It is getting a little harder though.  I'm not being as kind to myself as I was.  I took up kayaking and loved the peacefulness and mild exercise of going on warm mornings.  I even bought a kayak, but haven't been out in a long time.  We took up biking too.  Finding places to ride that we could enjoy scenery and exercise.  I seemed to be able to see the beauty of the world in brighter colors for a long time, but I feel like that is slipping away as I become used to it.  It is like living with a beautiful view out your window that you take for granted.  The hustle and bustle of life get in the way.  I need to remember to slow down and enjoy.  I know that is what you want me to do.  The weather is still blessing us.  Since you left, we haven't had a single important event marred by bad weather.  I used to remember to thank you for each beautiful day.  I know you are putting in a good word for us.  I think God knows that we need all the help we can get. 

I have been trying a lot of new things.  It seems easier to do something new sometimes than to do anything that is filled with memories of you.  There are some things I just won't do any more.  There won't be any boating and tubing on the Banana river for a very long time.  Maybe when the grandkids are old enough, I'll be ready.  I can't go to Del's Freeze.  I tried once; tears and ice cream don't mix.  I guess it is mostly the things I only did with you that are the things I can't bring myself to do without you.

When you first left, I worried a lot about people forgetting about you.  I don't worry about that any more.  You made such an impact on people's lives.  Ironically, my greatest fear now is that I am forgetting.  Our nomadic military lifestyle means that now there are so few around me who really knew you.  And who created shared memories with us from all of the stages of your life.  Only your brother really and it hurts him to talk about you.  Boys deal with things differently than we do.  So there isn't a lot of  'remember when' stories.  Anyway, they make most people uncomfortable.  Erin has been a blessing.  She can always make me laugh with her stories and she isn't the least bit uncomfortable about sharing them.  Amelia was by over Christmas too.  She is loving the Air Force and we shared some laughs.  Funny too, I get a lot of comfort from your Aunt Erin, she is an amazing woman.

Anyway, it seems like the most fun we had was when it was just the two of us, so there wouldn't be anyone to talk to about that anyway.  Those are the most precious memories and I'm afraid they will slip away from me.  Sometimes I remember us laughing over something and I just can't put my finger on what it was.  When we were alone we could let everything go and be just as corny as we wanted without worrying about it.  In the car, singing and making stupid pun jokes, at home making fun of bad TV, sitting in the living room til the middle of the night.  Laughing until we cried.  And sometimes crying until we laughed.  Sometimes I think there is no one could possibly exist who gets me the way you do.

I am so thankful for all of the pictures and videos we made.  One thing about having a camera in your face all the time is that it wasn't just the big moments that got captured.  It was the little things too.  I could watch a slide show for hours and just smile and remember and cry and remember.  If there is any way you could send a picture of yourself now, that would be cool.  I'd like to see where you are.  I'm sorry about giving up on the book and business.  I know you want me to continue, Kim told me you came to her to talk about it.  Don't worry.  I will do something with my photography and hopefully writing.  I just couldn't continue that particular project without you, I tried.   I'm waiting for the right inspiration and I'll know when it is right.  In the meantime, I want to enjoy that part of my life without any added stress of doing something with it.

Well, girly girl, I guess I have rambled on long enough.  I wanted you to know I am thinking about you.  Give Bear a big squeeze for me and have him sit pretty.  I miss him, but I'm glad he is with you.  I'm doing my best to be happy and have fun (just like you insisted in the note in the book).  I know it will seem like a long time until I see you again, but it is really just the blink of an eye.  Be in touch when you can!

Love
Mumzy Pumzy

PS.  I am enclosing a picture of your brother with Miley.  I thought you would enjoy it.

Spiritualist Camp

A few days ago a friend and I went to a spiritualist camp.  One of the biggest and most famous in the country, I suppose.  We went to see a guest speaker who claims to be able to bring Messages from Beyond.  In fact, that was the name of the presentation.  Going to this place has been on my list of things to do for quite some time and now seemed like a good time to go. 

We went with an open mind, prepared to experience, or not, whatever the event offered.  As any of my readers know, I am completely open to the idea of communication from the "other side" (although I don't believe it is another side, but just a part of this side we cannot see under normal circumstances).  I also believe that some people are more in tune and able to percieve these messages and sights.  I have to say up front that we came home disappointed by the event, but I'm only going to report the facts here and let the reader judge for themselves.  I promise to tell the truth as I percieved it. 

First, we got to the camp and I liked it alot.  The buildings were old and the atmosphere was very unique.  I will be going back to take pictures and maybe try a reading or other experience there.  We first partook of the book store and I bought many more books than I should have.  None of them are for actual 'reading' but they are more like pieces of art and education combined. 

Then we went to dinner at the restaurant.  The food at the restaurant was exceptional although we only had salads and cheese because we were pressed for time.  The musician playing the piano and singing, I'm sorry to say, was not so good.  Too loud and not very talented.  But that isn't what we were there for. 

Finally we went to the presentation.  The room was small and there were plastic chairs set up for an audience of what turned out to be about 20.  The windows were covered so there was no outside light.  But the room was well lit.  We had no idea what to expect from this experience, so we just took seats near the front where we thought we would be able to see well.  It turned out that every person in the audience was to get a reading.  Unexpected, but nice.  However, there was a lot of noise and disruption and I find it hard to believe that even a very sensitive person would be able to draw on a spirit or guide for every single person every single time especially under these less than ideal circumstances. 

He started from the back of the room and seemed to take quite a long time with each person, throwing out names and memories and thoughts in a very random way.  Some people he seemed to  hit a mark with, others not so much.  If he wasn't hitting, he moved on fairly quickly.  After about 10 people some themes seemed to be developing...lots of people were teachers, had the gift, drove fast, seemed to know to slow down when a policeman was there, were healers, were recieving healing from beyond, took on too much and should ask for help, almost everyone had a doctor and an indian guide.  There was just enough specific information to allow someone to choose to believe if that is what they wanted.  Mostly it was generalisms.  By the time he got to the end, he was moving much faster.

Finally he got to me and my friend.  I was a little nervous and hopefully expectant.  Soon after he started with me, I was disappointed.  But I will report on what he said that was and wasn't accurate and you can judge for yourself.  He started by saying he saw many around me, as he had with every person.  He said he felt an uncle, and the name Mike.  First all of my uncles are living and none of them are Mike.  The only Mike of significance in my life was my first husband and father of my children.  He said he was seeing a man, probably my grandfather.  I had hoped he would go on about that, but he did not. 

Then he said from 6-11 a Doctor Waterford was a close healer to me and there was something with my leg, my knee that was injured, but not severely.  By healer he meant in the spirit world, so I can't address that.  I never had a bad knee injury other than scraped knees.  I had ankle injuries, but they were on the opposite leg of the one he indicated.  He said at the age of 13 I became a rebel and turned away from the religion that my parents wanted for me.  Ok, at the age of 13 everyone becomes a rebel and I may have been a bit worse than some, but religion was not a part of our home life on a regular basis, so this has no bearing. 

He said I love the outdoors and love the water...love putting my feet in the water.  These are both true and something he didn't say to anyone else, but also I am very tan, so anyone observant would make that assumption.  Then he said my Indian guide was Running Creek, which just made me giggle. 

He specifically said that he saw 'no young people' around me, I believe I may have reacted to that in some way, because then he changed and said there was a young boy, perhaps a cousin, who was about 9 and had died in a bad way, maybe hit by a car.  There is no young man that I am aware of that died young in my life.  What is interesting about this though, is that a medium that contacted my aunt soon after Michaela died, said that she (Michaela) was with a young boy about 9, but she couldn't figure out the relationship.  So if anyone in my family can enlighten me, that would be helpful. 

He said to me, like almost everyone else, that I was bored at work, but there would be a good opportunity coming in June.  He said that I wanted to start my own business, which used to be true but no longer is a priority for me and seemed disoriented when I disagreed.  Then he said suddenly that Frank was there, but his real name, on his birth certificate, was Francis and asked if I knew who he meant.  I responded honestly, that my great Uncle Frank had died a few days ago (its only fair to be honest).  I have no idea if his real name was Francis.  He said to tell everyone that he made it to the other side safely and everything was well with him.  Since I was not close to this man and only remember meeting him once or twice, that seems like a stretch, but ok.  There were some other things that he said, but I can't remember right now.  Thankfully my friend took some notes, that helped me remember this much.

Then he moved on to my friend.  Again, I could see a lot of truth in what he said, much more than with me, such as identifying her as good financially (she has a degree in finance), but that is more her story than mine. 

Afterwards some people asked specific questions about the loved ones that they had come hoping to hear from.  He sent one woman crying from the room when he said her son had died with some recklessness but he wasn't alone now and was with a dog as his constant companion.  I could tell that they and the others who asked specific questions went away disappointed, but I couldn't bring myself to ask anything.

Finally we stayed for a second presentation that was called Transfiguration.  In this the room is darkened and a red light is shined on the medium's face.  During the 'seance' spirits are to manifest themselves across his face and wierd things may or may not happen depending on the energy in the room.  Nothing weird happened and it did seem as though his face changed, but it also seemed like I could create the same effect with a dim flashlight in a dark room.  He was constantly moving his head slowing around changing the shadows and the light he was using was a normal light, it had something on its base that was purported to be a dimmer, but seemed in the shape and size of a camera.  Of course, a true phony would be found out instantly by that, so I doubt is was anything of significance.  The more noise that was made by the crowd, the more spirits came (and the more he moved his head).  I was amused by this performance more than anything.  But to be fair at one point, the people on the other side of the room, about 5 of them, started talking about seeing a beautiful blond young woman who kept coming back and they were calling for her to come back.  I did not see this, but it gave me pause to think. 

Overall, there was enough truth that was presented to allow anyone who wanted to believe to believe, but not enough validation for anyone to say for sure that this person was able to deliver on what he promised.  I remain open minded, but skeptical of this particular man.  Unfortunately it is a field that is wide open to abuse and fraud. 

Chaos or a Universal Plan?

Ever wonder how people end up in the job they end up in?  I don't mean, necessarily, the unskilled workers who just find a job doing whatever they can find, but the professionals who choose unlikely career paths or specialities. 

This is a meaningless blog.  Just something I was pondering as I was reading an article about podiatry.  Really?  Podiatry?  What makes someone choose that specialty?  As a child was he just sitting around thinking of his future and envisioned feet?  Was he the worse in his class at med school or maybe the best?  Did he have a financial incentive?  I just can't imagine.  I mean, it took effort to end up in that field, it doesn't just happen. 

As a child most of us want to be teachers or doctors or firemen or police.  Maybe a veterinarian or a scientist as we get older.  But not very many of us end up in those positions.  Either we change our mind after finding out there is no money in those fields, or we find another interest, or life just happens to us.

I was an unfocused teenager.  Very good at school, but so good that it bored the quest for education right out of me.  I had ideas of what I would like to do (photojournalism), but no real plan to get there.  Finally I had no money for college and nobody pushing me to find a way, no counsellor explaining how financial aid works.  Nobody in my family had ever gone to college and it didn't seem like an option to me.  So I drifted for awhile and accidentally ended up in the Air Force.  Being in the military wasn't number 1, 2 or even 100 on my list of things to do with my life.  It just happened.  It had to do with a guy; seems like everything did back then.  

I had a very interesting career and life in the military.  I had a job I enjoyed in the Intelligence field; I got to travel and live in other countries; I got a Master's Degree without any student debt; I retired young with benefits, but young enough to start a second career.  I can't complain.  Not everyone winds up so lucky.  I'm pretty sure it is better to have a plan.  I don't think my children ever really considered that going to college was optional.  I didn't really give them that choice; it was just expected.  I love that my son is pursuing art though.  What a great career if you can make it.  And there is nobody telling him he can't make it, so I'm sure he will succeed. 

Somehow I feel like everyone should be able to live out their dream job, but yet that isn't possible is it?  Not every little girl can grow up to be a ballerina or a princess.  Somebody has to be a nurse or a receptionist or a bookkeeper or a construction worker or an office manager.  That is what I am now.  It is not my dream job.  It is a very good job though.  I suspect someday I will regret that I never really let go of the security of a good job in order to chase the dream; but a woman has bills to pay, right?

So back to the original question; how does someone wind up as a podiatrist, a dentist, a tax lawyer, a finance officer, an insurance adjuster, an actuary?  And how does a community generally end up with the appropriate number of the necessary skill sets?  Where does that balance come from?  Does the universe guide the number of High School dropouts vs. the doctoral students vs. the students who choose the trades?  Is it random chaos?  Will we someday run out of plumbers?

I don't know the answer.  Just pondering how life works.

Disclaimer:  All of the feet used in the production of this blog are my own; copyrighted for use by myself for my private use of walking and occasional jogging.  No feet were harmed in the production of this blog.

Describing Grief

There are millions of books on Grief out there.  I've read a few.  Some of them strike me as accurate, some of them don't.  What they do seem to have in common is a lot of cliches.  It's a roller coaster, it's steps, it's a yo yo, two steps forward, one step back, at your own pace, bla bla bla.  I find accurate or not, most of them are useless.  We've all grieved at some level over something.  Lost love, pets, parents, friends.  We know what its all about.  But to grieve for your child is a different animal altogether.  Its like a whale in a fishbowl, taking up all the room.  The books I have read give me concrete facts, but no real description to define grief.  No picture of what grief really is.  Nothing to explain to me if I am reacting 'normally'.

I just finished reading a book called "The Year of Pleasures" by Elizabeth Berg.  It is a novel, not a reference book.  And it is about a woman grieving her husband (about the closest grief I could imagine to child loss).  This woman writes so very vividly about everything.  Every aspect of the book is finely detailed with original and poignant metaphor, simile and personification.  You can see what she sees and hear what she hears and smell what she smells, but most importantly you can feel what she feels.  Although the focus of the book is not necessarily her grief, the eloquence with which she defined her grief feelings is stunning.  I found myself saying over and over--yes, exactly, that is how it feels. 

In this blog I just want to share a few excepts from the book that struck me as insightful.  Hopefully I'm not violating any copy write laws and should she see my blog somehow she would understand that I am sharing her words because I could never express myself as beautifully as she does. I know these are completely without context, so bear with me and maybe go buy the book.

Sometimes I felt on the edge of reality, unable to understand the simplest things...Other times, I went numb, as though vultures had landed inside and picked me clean.  At those times, I did not quite taste or see or hear or touch or feel.  And at those times, I thought cautiously, Is that it, then?  Am I through crying?  Am I healing already?  And then would come another tidal wave of pain, nearly nauseating in its force....

Another mosquito bite of grief.  I was beginning to learn that sometimes sorrow was a complex form of aggravation.

I would try to find joy despite the necessary work of grieving, and I knew full well that work was exactly the right word to describe it.  It was [Michaela's] life that was over, not mine.  I had to remember that recognizing the distinction was not disloyalty.

I woke up the next morning full of a cheerfulness I was afraid to trust. ...and tried to ignore the guilt simmering inside.

I knew something about others predicting how long pain would last.  Pebbles flung against a mountainside, that's what that was.  Little bits of speculation thrown against an overwhelming fact.

I needed a break, a respectful visitation to a place I'd been ignoring.  It had been good--it had been a relief--to be so purposefully away from the reality....but in an odd way, I missed my sorrow.

...talking to a stranger would require something I now felt incapable of.

And noticed a specific and breathtaking absence.  At the moment, nothing hurt.  What I felt was only hope, that internal sunrise....I felt only my great luck at having had [her] for as long as I did.  I'd learned enough about grieving to know that other ways of feeling would come back soon enough.  But it seemed to me that this was the way we all lived:  full to the brim with gratitude and joy one day, wrecked on the rocks the next.  Finding the balance between the two was the art and the salvation.

I feel like I'm walking around carrying a really full--overly full--bowl of water.  When I don't look at it, nothing spills.

...her death changed our lives for the better, because it brought a kind of awareness, a specific sense of purpose and appreciation we hadn't had before.  Would I trade that in order to have her back?  In a fraction of a millisecond.  But I won't ever have her back.  So I have taken this, as her great gift to us....do I block her out?  Never.  Do I think of her?  Always.  In some part of my brain, I think of her every single moment of every single day.

Thank you Ms. Berg for letting me borrow your words.  I don't know where your insightfulness into the feelings of grief originate, if you have had a loss or if you are simply extremely empathetic.  But I have felt every one of these feelings and had every one of these thoughts in inexpressible waves of emotion.  You have beautifully expressed some of those feelings for me.  Thank you.