Emotional Crap – Page 4

Posted on June 21, 2015June 22, 2015 by Wise Sass

Sissy

I used to call her sissy. I barely remember that, and it seems so improbable now, but I did.

This one thought keeps circling in my head: How do you mourn a sister?

I can’t imagine it. I can’t fathom it. But I’m doing it.

Last Sunday, June 15, my sister’s cancer journey came to an end. She was 53.

Charlotte was about 14 when my mom married her dad, he adopted me and he became our dad. I was just a baby. I didn’t have a childhood without her in it.

As a teenager she had to share a room with a toddler. I’m sure that totally sucked for her, and was maybe why she moved out when she was 19. But for 5 years she was stuck with me.

I remember her high school girlfriends all treated me like I was their little sis too. I’m even Facebook friends with one of them to this day.

I remember when I was 6 or 7 I thought of her with such awe. She was amazing. She was beautiful. She danced, performed, with big hair and gorgeous leotards, with a dance group and I wanted to be her. My mom tried to put me in dance but I was painfully shy. I quit immediately, except in my own living room … where one time I did a flip and fractured my wrist. I didn’t have her grace.

I was the flower girl in her wedding when I was 7. She was such a grown-up to me. She was only 20, but I was still in such awe of the beautiful, dynamic creature going through this incredible ritual. That’s MY sister?

When I was 10 years old I became an aunt to this goofball:

And then these two: Years ago, when I was barely done being a kid myself, I’d babysit, pick them up from school when she couldn’t, and sometimes take them to gymnastics. I loved being their young aunt.

It was when I was a late teen and even more after I finished high school, thereabouts, when my sister and I became the adult (ish) version of being sisters. This is when her inappropriate jokes started to make sense. When I understood her “titty twister” threats. When I realized how she could say shocking things and get away with it because she did it with a laugh and a smile.

For awhile we did a lot of things together. Her family plus me & my boyfriend (at the time) went to Disneyland together, Las Vegas for dad’s wedding (where all 7 of us shared 1 cozy room!), and to the lake or camping together. We had the best time.

She lived her life fearlessly. She advocated for her children fiercely. In a lot of ways, she was a role model mother as much as my own mom has been. A younger, more modern mom role model (sorry mom) that I could compare my mom against – and I’d like to think I’ve healthily incorporated both of them into my mothering.

She was determined to live her life according to her desires. I really admired that in her. Whenever she wanted something she figured out how to get it. She managed, somehow, and she gave her kids a wonderful life with myriad experiences. They always knew how much they were loved.

Later – after our parents split, and when I moved to Idaho to live with dad & go to college, and then met my husband and got married – my sis and I had some conflicts. I’m not going to go into that, I’d rather forget it to be honest, but I really wish that time had been different. I wish my kids had known their aunt more. I wish she had known & loved my kids.

But I know I loved her. I loved her light, her positivity, and her bright soul.

My sissy.

Tell me – how do you mourn a sister?

Xoxo,
Stef

Posted on May 18, 2015 by Wise Sass

I need these words every day

Xoxo,

Stef

Posted on April 29, 2015April 29, 2015 by Wise Sass

We all have stories

You don’t get to this age (in my case, banging on 40’s door) without having stories.

Your stories shape your life, your experiences, how you react, how you cope, how you LIVE.

I have tried to live my life in a cautious manner. It’s inherent to who I am. I don’t make snap decisions, I don’t “shoot from the hip,” and I try to retain my calm even when I’m screaming, crying, gnashing my teeth inside. Unleashing the anger beast doesn’t solve anything, and often leads to more hurt; hurtful words can often cause more problems than hurtful actions.

Lord knows I’m not perfect. I haven’t always been cautious. I have reacted emotionally. I have sought immediate gratification and soothing for my pain rather than thinking it out and processing it rationally. I’ve tried to keep those experiences to a minimum, especially as I’ve gotten older. As I’ve learned what helps long-term and what simply complicates things more.

I think that is where our stories come in. They illustrate our experiences in human nature. Experiences to learn from – learn from the people, learn from the emotions that resulted from that moment, learn from how we grieved or celebrated after.

Nobody ever knows your stories but you. Maybe they can ask? If they are curious.

You’ve heard that saying, right, that for every story there is your side, their side, and somewhere in the middle is the truth? Because our stories are skewed by our experiences and our emotions. What was minor to one person may have been major to someone else.

My experiences have brought me to where I am today. My stories have shaped how I respond and react to my experiences. I’ve tried to be cautious . . . . I AM cautious. I try to hold my tongue, not lash out, to react with love and understanding more than anger, frustration and betrayal. It’s hard. It’s hard to feel misunderstood.

My stories tell me that time changes everything. How I felt 13 years ago is not how I feel today. My experiences dictate that. Every decision we make, every deep conversation we have with a friend late at night, every argument, every resentment, every pure joy moment – all of these impact our future.

I was hurt one too many times. My experiences built on each other until I had the Berlin Wall of resentment nestled in my heart. I was trying to knock it down, brick by brick, but recent experiences have told me to shore it up again. And here we go again – more pain, more hurt, more betrayal.

Lady Justice’s scale is tipped to the negative right now, and I’m treading water to stay afloat, but I know the scale will tip back before too long. The positive will outweigh the negative. There will be healing. There will be joy.

These are my stories, built on my experiences. There is value (and weight & impact) to each one of them, the good and the bad. There is growth from every experience.

These stories will be be the sum of my life, but my novel is not nearly complete.

Peace, love and understanding. It’s the way to go, and I’m trying.

Endless mourning

Horrible, awful things are happening

How are we to survive all of this?

I try hard but my spirit is dampening

I’m already mourning all I’ve missed.

My 40th year is the least of these.

My marriage dashed; dreams gone.

My sister in law taken by a disease.

My sister, same disease, can’t go on.

Full of love, memories, childhood

Blessed with warm hands and hearts

No pain, no loss; all sweet & good

Never learned how to dodge these darts

Endless days of endless sorrow

Please, let me live, survive, please

Build me up, strength I’ll borrow

There’s no net under my knees

Falling, always falling, stripped bare

Calling out, reaching, no one there.

Posted on January 11, 2015January 11, 2015 by Wise Sass

Why I’m an Eagles fan

I often get asked why a California girl living in Idaho would love the Philadelphia Eagles. This is not an easy question to answer.

3 years ago I never watched football. My husband wasn’t a football guy and it’s just not what we did. I do enjoy football, and always have, but with two kids & a husband with no interest it was easy to keep our football watching to just the Super Bowl. I watched the game, he watched the commercials.

Then … we separated and my life, our lives, changed forever. I looked for consolation and solace in things that were completely & wholly unrelated to my husband. I spent time with friends who didn’t know him, I leaned on people at work, on my online friends, anybody unconnected with my married life. Within this realm, I had a friend who is a devoted Eagles fan. When the 2013 pre-season started I heard about the Eagles constantly.

WhenI heard that the former coach of the Oregon Ducks, Chip Kelly, had moved to the NFL and was the new head coach of the Eagles it piqued my interest. Being a member of the Boise State Bronco Nation, that struck a memory about a story regarding Chip Kelly from when the Ducks lost a game to the Broncos. A Ducks fan complained to Kelly that he’d spent a certain amount of money to travel to the game and was disappointed. Kelly wrote him a check to reimburse the fan’s expenses. Dude. That’s class.

I was intrigued. I started watching the Eagles games. I watched the Packers, Ravens, Broncos, Cowboys, 49ers, Saints & Giants too. But I mainly watched the Eagles. I started re-learning the game. Learning more. Digging in. Trying to understand terms that weren’t clear to me. I started googling different terms, plays, positions. Just as I was really digging in, the season ended.

What do you mean I have to wait 8 months for the season to start again?? Noooooo!!

I kept reading. I started watching football movies. I loved Draft Day. I cried & laughed. I watched the actual NFL draft, noting the Eagles draftees.

When the 2014 season started I was so excited, so ready, so eager for the Eagles to get out there and do their thing. Every week, starting with pre-season, I couldn’t wait for the next game. I was lucky that a lot of the Eagles games were televised in my area. I briefly thought of mortgaging my house to buy the NFL Sunday Ticket just so I wouldn’t have to miss any games at all. But that’s just silly. (Right??)

The thing is, every week I had this wonderful, exciting thing to look forward to and it never mattered what happened during my personal life that week. The Eagles would be there. Just like they were there last season. This season they became even more. More to me, more to my life. I could be broken-hearted, exhausted, lonely, or whatever, and the Eagles would make it better, win or lose. (Mostly wins, except for effing December. Grrr.)

I love Chip Kelly & his philosophy. I love how he supports the team and his matter of fact, practical logic regarding wins & losses. I love Nick Foles, Darren Sproles, Conner Barwin, Cody Parkey, Shady McCoy, Ertz, Huff, Cooper, Peters, Acho, and just the whole damn team. I love their heart. I love their ambition & spirit.

Eagles for life. I owe them a big part of my life. My sanity, at least. Thank you, Eagles.

Counting down to August …

Xoxo,
Stef

Posted on January 2, 2015January 3, 2015 by Wise Sass

Hope

This song is perfect:

Peace by O.A.R.

Posted on December 17, 2014 by Wise Sass · 1 Comment

On Being Mr. Darcy

Mr. Darcy, arguably the most swoon-worthy character in all of literature, stands up as a god among men. There’s a reason my ASD son’s middle name is Darcy. My J-man doesn’t like it though. He says it’s a girl’s name. That he’s embarrassed. That kids will make fun of him for having a girl’s name.

He said, “Mom, when I’m an adult I’m changing my middle name to Theodore. You know, like in the Chipmunks.” LOVE HIM.

Of course, this is my ASD guy. My Autistic little dude. He, like many Autistics, want things to fit into routine little boxes and, to him, it doesn’t make sense to have a “girl’s name” within his full name. His first name is very masculine but the middle name ruins it all. Poor guy. I advised him for now to keep his middle name a secret. He can say his first & last name without using his middle name.

But . . . I’m on a campaign to change his mind. I want him to understand why Mr. Darcy is a worthy namesake. Maybe this is too much for a 10 year old to imagine, but I hope when he’s 24 years old he’ll wear it like a badge of honor.

Mr. Darcy is no less than these things:

Intelligent and witty.
Financially solid.
Straightforward and unabashed in speaking his mind – sometimes imprudently, but he learns his lesson on that count, which means he’s . . .
Teachable. He learns to humble himself and be understanding without compromising his beliefs.
Loyal and caring to his family and friends. Those who have earned his trust.
A good listener.
Becomes self-aware, and has a further awareness of others and human nature.
Good reputation.

When we were trying to come up with our second son’s name we focused less on family names, as with our first, and more on relevant and meaningful names to us. To me, it was always Darcy. Had to be Darcy.

Trust, little man, trust your momma. You’ll grown into that name. You’ll wear it proudly one day. Theodore isn’t bad, but it’s no Darcy.

XOXO,

Stef

Posted on December 14, 2014December 15, 2014 by Wise Sass

An Inspired Season

Inspiration is a funny thing. A snippet of overheard conversation, a picture or painting, a feeling from someone or something. I was inspired recently by several things and they are coalescing into something quite peaceful, I think. I hope.

Here are some examples:

A parents’ love for their child in the face of a difficult diagnosis, and the entire community/family supporting them.

Pictures of Paris and the Eiffel Tower in the snow.

I mother losing a battle but surrounded by the purest and most bountiful love as she transitions.

Precious joy on a child’s face from the true spirit & belief in a magical Christmas.

Wonderful, generous donations of money, toys and food to help our fellow humans by wealthy philanthropists, police officers, and a regular ole Joe Schmo with a few bucks to spare if he cuts back his Starbucks intake.

Romance, recognized.

The pain of separation. The healing. The peacefulness that can come with acceptance & forgiveness.

Songs that make me cry in the shower (currently: “I Choose You” by Sara Barielles); songs that make me dance in the shower (“Shake it off” anyone?)

An iconic tableau.

The hurt of betrayal. Whether my own or what some of my friends have been going through – that abject pain can be a beautiful thing as it transforms & heals the bearer into someone so much stronger. Like a Phoenix rising.

Silliness with Santa/Dad instead of pain and harsh words.

All these things have come to me. They’ve been hitting me the last couple of weeks, bam, bam, one after another. I’m not positive, but if I was a betting (wo)man, I’d say someone was trying to tell me something.

Inspire me.

Teach me a lesson about love, appreciation, gratitude, recognition of my blessings, love for humanity, and the necessary joy that comes with pure bliss. Help me realize that we, every single one of us, are in this thing together. We aren’t coming out alive so we better make the best of it, right?

Our lives are not perfect, nor are they intended to be. We’re humans – messy, emotional, prone to make mistakes humans. We love; we grieve. Sometimes we’re too scared and other times we leap.

The one lesson I have learned the most in my 39 years is that nothing, nothing, is black & white. We are walking opinions; we are brains & hearts & gut reactions. We are human paradoxical enigmas.

This Christmas I am trying my best to be kind. To be gentle. To have joy. To release stress. To be generous. To remember those less fortunate.

May all the light & love from the spirit of Christmas be with you today and throughout this season, and beyond. If we could all be as kind in January, April, August & October as we are in December then I think we could maybe increase our collective gratitude & generosity for others. Just a thought.

XOXO,
Stef

Posted on November 27, 2014November 28, 2014 by Wise Sass · 1 Comment

I am a fertility goddess

The other day I ran across an image of a fertility goddess and I thought, hmmm, that looks familiar.

Okay, I’m exaggerating; not familiar, but similar or in essence roughly reminiscent.

I blotted that thought away like a shiny nose.

And then yesterday when I was thinking about my body shape (btw, not an unusual occurrence; I’ve probably thought about my body shape at least once a day since I was twelve so this wasn’t a new or unusual thing) I wondered how many designated body shapes there are for women and was it really fair to pin women down to a certain pre-defined shape?

So I looked up a few things. First, the Wikipedia entry for female body shape provides these strict guidelines:

Hourglass – If (bust − hips) ≤ 1″ AND (hips − bust) < 3.6″ AND ( (bust − waist) ≥ 9″ OR (hips − waist) ≥ 10″ )
Bottom hourglass – If (hips − bust) ≥ 3.6″ AND (hips − bust) < 10″ AND (hips − waist) ≥ 9″ AND (high hip/waist) < 1.193
Top hourglass – If (bust − hips) > 1″ AND (bust − hips) < 10″ AND (bust − waist) ≥ 9″
Spoon – If (hips − bust) > 2″ AND (hips − waist) ≥ 7″ AND (high hip/waist) ≥ 1.193
Triangle – If (hips − bust) ≥ 3.6″ AND (hips − waist) < 9″
Inverted triangle – If (bust − hips) ≥ 3.6″ AND (bust − waist) < 9″
Rectangle – If (hips − bust) < 3.6″ AND (bust − hips) < 3.6″ AND (bust − waist) < 9″ AND (hips − waist) < 10

Um … HUH?

If anybody can figure out that hourglass formula, I’m assuming this gal fits in that category:

Incidentally, this same Wikipedia page indicated that “Stone age venus figurines show the earliest body type preference: dramatic steatopygia.” – which is a ” is a high degree of fat accumulation in and around the buttocks.”

Which just goes to show the variations in culture and desire over time.

Then I started searching various other sources for information and what I found was extremely varied. Generally, all women’s body shapes are compared to fruit or geometric shapes. Again, I say HUH? Why? I don’t look like an apple, a pear or a banana, or a square, rectangle or inverted triangle. None of these things. Not even a circle.

I think I look like a woman. Not a type of a woman, but just a woman.

A softy rounded, plump, fertility goddess -because, dammit, that’s what I am! I had the babies! Conceiving them was astonishingly easy, carrying them was a gift and though delivery wasn’t a walk in the park, that experience didn’t take away my power. It enhanced it.