30 Days of Truth: Day 9

Yes. Hello. Where were we then? Ah, yes. Day 9.

Day 09- Someone you didn't want to let go, but just drifted

Well this is an easy one.

D and I were, in the words of our teasing co-workers, thick as thieves. That is a fact. Over the course of years she drifted from being my acquaintance, to a pretty good friend, to one of the few people on the earth before whom I could reveal myself, be honest and truthful and raw and bare, and not in my usual tongue-in-cheek fashion. With D I could be me.

Our togetherness was made convenient by the fact that we worked together, sweated and cursed and laughed side-by-side 40 hours a week through 2 shows and 6 years. When the time came for me to move on, career wise, I hoped that we would stay close, but a little part of me knew that things would never be the same. We stayed pretty tight for a while, but her move to the other side of town sealed the deal. We drifted. Me having two babies didn't exactly help.

We got together for lunch the other day, and I was reminded how much I missed her quirks, her sense of humor, and how easy it is to talk to someone who really knows you, even if it's been 6 months since you have had a conversation and you are trying to entertain 2 toddlers while attempting to string together a cohesive sentence.

Seeing D again was, in a way, comforting. I was reminded of the fact that she carries with her a bevy of friends from years past, and while she doesn't keep in touch with all of them on a regular basis, I know they still mean a lot to her. I guess I've been added to the ranks. And I'm ok with that.

30 Days of Truth: Day 8

Day 08- Someone who made your life hell or treated you like shit.

I was in the "gifted" homeroom in 6th grade, which in my school system in Michigan was considered Middle School. I had been in a variety of gifted programs in a variety of school systems, since we moved so much, some of them fantastic, some of them a total waste. This program was FANTASTIC. We were taught to be self-sufficient learners, make choices that corresponded with our learning styles, and to use creativity to process and present facts. I loved the class. I learned so much. But I always had the feeling in the pit of my stomach that the teacher didn't like me. And, more than anything, I wanted to be liked.

Organization does not come naturally to me. I live a neat and tidy existence now, but I have to work very hard to maintain it, and it was really only in the past 3 or 4 years that I would say I have gotten "good" at de-cluttering. As a child, left to my own right-brained devices my backpack was a mess, my possessions were jumbled, papers got lost. At the age of 11, I really needed HELP.

What I did NOT need was my teacher upending my desk and screaming at me in front of the whole class when I couldn't find something.

I did not crumple externally. I remember standing there with a dumb half-grin on my face, too mortified to dare show it. But inside, I felt so small. And bad. And stupid. It marks, I think, the beginning of my adolescent self-loathing, of being limited by my own feelings of inadequacy and angst. I spent the remainder of my youth waiting for those I respected to upend my desk, literally or metaphorically. The experience didn't make me a more organized person. It just made me very certain that there was something "wrong" with me.

I had kind of forgotten all about the incident until a year or so ago, when one of my friends who teaches upper elementary told me about losing her cool towards one of her students. "This girl," she said, "is a sweet person, super smart and really a good kid, but her desk is such a MESS! I couldn't stand it! So today I dumped it out and made her sort through it in front of everyone."

I stiffened, and felt a wave of disgust wash over me. I told her that a teacher did that to me once, and that it was really humiliating. My friend is not the kind of teacher who gets a charge out of embarrassing her students. Maybe the teacher who did that to me was not either. I looked her up when I started writing this post, and she's actually very highly acclaimed, leading symposiums and publishing research. Maybe she just had an off day, maybe she really thought I had potential and was frustrated with my self-limiting habits. Maybe, at the end of the day, she actually liked me. But when I think about it, even 20+ years later, I feel hated. And small. And ashamed.

30 Days of Truth: Day 7

Day 07- Someone who has made your life worth living.

Well, now. That's an easy one, isn't it? They drive me a little (or a lot) crazy sometimes, but their quirks, humor, personalities, and love make every day worth living.

Have I mentioned (I'm almost afraid to) that they sleep now?

30 Days of Truth: Day 6

Day 06- Something you hope you never have to do

It's a fact. Your parents age. Generally speaking, (if you are lucky, I guess) you outlive them. I understand that it's more than likely that I will some day bury my parents. And while I'm not exactly thrilled at the notion, it is not the thing I hope I never have to do.

What I fear, more than that, more than illness, and even more than death, is them losing themselves before their body gives out. I don't mind the notion of having to care for my parents in their old age: of being sure they are eating, and taking their medicines, and getting out and about when they want to, and keeping them company when they want it. I see it as my responsibility. I know how hard they worked to take care of me when I was dependent, and I am happy to return the favor. It's the thought of walking into their room and meeting blank eyes, the thought that I might have to re-introduce myself to those I love the most, that bothers me.

It doesn't run in the family, Alzheimer's. My grandparents died because their bodies failed. My grandfather is in his late 80's and despite a stroke that has left him wheelchair bound, he is entirely "there." I hope it's something that we as a family do not have to endure. I have seen what it does to those suffering with it, how it confuses and agitates you to not know where you are, or who you are. I have witnessed how cruel it is to those trying to support its victims- making sacrifices and being met with hostility and sadness day after day.

I hope I don't ever have to remind my parents of who I am.

30 Days of Truth: Day 5

Day 05- Something you hope to do in your life.

Well this one could be really easy or really hard. What sprung to mind immediately seems totally do-able but also not at all. I just want to catch up on my scrapbooking. It's kind of my only hobby right now, besides wiping butts, and I get a lot of fulfillment out of completing a page. But it's always satisfaction coupled with guilt and feeling overwhelmed at all the pages ahead of me. I think I have done pretty well-- I just did baby books last year and allowed my self the year off from scrapping, and right now I am only a couple of months behind, but STILL. A couple of months is like 30 pages. Seems a little insurmountable sometimes. Not to mention that I have 2 other books kind of started that I want to do for ME, and a whole box of my Elementary-HS memorabilia waiting to be some how organized and displayed. I need hours and hours and hours to do it all, and time is the thing I ain't got.

But is this question supposed to be about something bigger? I guess, long term, I hope to have a fulfilling professional life. I loved being a tech, but it was not exactly a CAREER career, and I got a lot of satisfaction from teaching, but I'm not sure that was the end-all-be-all for me either. For now, I'm happy being a mom, and I hope I am lucky enough to stay at home until all of our kids are school aged, but I am not housewife material. If there are not kids at home, I want to work. I'm just not sure doing what.

30 Days of Truth: Day 4

Only Day 4? I thought I was almost done. Guess not.

Day 04- Something you have to forgive someone for.

Well, here's where the "truth" portion of this exercise goes out the window. The thing is, I am pretty forgiving, a peacemaker, and most unpleasantries I would honestly rather forgive and forget. But when I read this prompt something sprung to mind, something that might be unforgivable. I knew as soon as I thought it that I could never write it. It was too fresh, too close to home, and too horrific. And if you are thinking to yourself: "I'm pretty sure I know what she's referring to," you don't. I promise. That's all I have to say about that.

So. I have something else. Something that stings and probably always will.

We got to be friends as soon as I moved to town. You adopted me like a big brother, showed me the ropes, watched my back, encouraged me in my career and were a true friend. You made me laugh and gave me courage. I followed you around like a puppy and took your word as gospel. We started working in different venues, and as the years passed and I started to spread my own wings, we crossed paths less often, and drifted apart. But we ended every conversation with "Love you," and you were always on the top of my list of people to talk to when I had news.

I started to hear things about you: you were flaky. You weren't showing up for work. You were lazy. You were unreliable. This wasn't the you I knew, but it was true: I couldn't defend you from the facts. So I didn't.

Why didn't you tell me? How could I not have guessed? Why did I have to hear it from your partner? Of course you were sick. Of course you were. You had been positive for a LONG time. Since the 80's. Since that kind of thing was a death sentence. How did I not know this YEARS AGO? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't I know? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

Did you assume that I had put it together? That I didn't care enough to call and see what was going on? Because I do. I care. If I had known, I would have helped. I would have defended your name. I would have tried to take care of you like you took care of me when I was the new kid.

I love you. But now when I talk to you a part of me burns with regret. You lost your job. Because you were sick. You lost your insurance. Because you lost your job. You lost your partner of 20 years. Because you were depressed. Because everything collapsed. And I wasn't there for you. Because I didn't know.

I wish you would have let me be a better friend.

30 Days of Truth: Day 3

This was 30 WEEK days of truth, right? Oh. Well, Crap. Sorry. I'll try harder.

Day 03- Something you have to forgive yourself for.

Forgive me, little ones.

Forgive me for my moments of impatience, of short tempered annoyance, of frustration with you. For the moments I complained, wished for something other than exactly what I was living. For the moments I grumbled when I should have just sang you a little song. The times I was rough when I should have taken a deep breath. For the moments I cursed my post-baby body and set a terrible example of self-image. Forgive me for every moment I have ever taken you for granted.

Please forgive me for being hard on myself. For being human. I want you to know that it's ok to lose your temper sometimes. It's ok to be sad, and lonely, and flawed, and to have a pudgy belly, as long as there's a reason for it. Nobody's perfect. Mama is just a human being, at the end of the day, and she makes mistakes, just like you will, and she has emotions and struggles, just like you do. It's healthy for you to see it.

Then why does it keep me awake at night?

Forgive me, my little girls. And maybe some day I can forgive myself.