The Clutching

I spoke with a new potential friend today - you know, the one that kinda gets you on a wisdom level, the one that doesn't say much but listens, doesn't brag, but shares - that kind of friend.  We went to lunch - a real simple lunch: salad, soup, breadsticks at the Olive Garden.  I don't much care for the Olive Garden, but I do want to get to know the people I am working with, so I went.

We made small talk.  Me, her and another girl, Angela, who is 23 years old and getting her MFA now (ironically at one of the colleges I am looking to apply) and we just shared our histories.  They knew of each other's history, they didn't know of mine.  Maybe it's baggage, maybe it's defensiveness but I always feel the need to explain why I am a single mother.  (There are looks and attitudes and energies that come about when people find out you're a single mother of two - so much so that there are days I wish I could just wear a wedding ring and pretend I am in a state of wedded bliss.  But that would be a disservice to all the struggling single moms, wouldn't it?)  So, I told her, after she asked if I was dating anyone, that I was secretly very judgemental of people who were divorced, never been married (in my age category) and well, that's about it except for the random widower (whose wife I'll always have to compete with for one-upness) and that for me, a 38 year old who wants more kids, it didn't look good and that I'd probably have to pack in the dreams and wait until I'm 50 to get the dude that has it figured out - and by that time, I'll be so set in my ways that I might as well consider myself unavailable...

(This diatribe, by the way, has nothing to do with the title of my blog)...

What I liked about the conversation is that it was a give and take.  It was her understanding my dilemma, then sharing her own goings-on that I understood and empathized, and the back and forth.  I liked that.  And I thought:  "She knows something.  She's lived through something.  She has wisdom beyond her age."  (If I had to guess, I'd say she's my age or younger).  We talked the whole ride back to the office.

It came out. 

Her source of wisdom. 

It came out. 

She lost her dad 12 years ago. 
It was a shock. 
It was a heartbreaker.

We shared the story.  I told her of my recent loss. 

There was silence. 
And more silence. 

Angela was in the backseat, kinda chillin'. 

After a few seconds, I asked a question.

"Does it ever go away?  That feeling of surprise?  That quick hit of pain to the heart?  Does it ever go away?"

She thought for a second and then answered.

"The pain, the sharp pain of thinking that what you're doing is fun and maybe it shouldn't be fun because, you know, somebody you loved is not there to share it?  Well, that goes away.  But the clutching, the shock, it never goes away.  I have moments where I am surprised by the loss every day."

The clutching.  What a great way to describe it.

I said as much to her, and she just smiled.  She knew.  At that point, Angela piped in and said, "What the heck are you two talking about?  You lost me about 3 miles ago!" 

We both laughed and that was it.  The moment was gone.

But the feelings weren't.  Not for me, not for her (I just know it) and I thought about the clutching that I feel every day - since Jeff died, since Dad died - and uh, it's uh, not easy.  But it helps to share the emotions.  It helps to understand the clutching.

The point of this blog is to get the message out that it's okay. 
It's okay to hurt. 
It's okay to share. 
It's okay to be judgemental
and true
and real about things. 

It's okay to feel the clutching.

And it's okay to cry...

Water, Water Everywhere

Life is an adjustment, surely.  It is ever-changing, certainly.  The current sweeps sometimes; the current bends; the current carries you as if you were a guest on a luxurious inflatable tire; the current sometimes rolls you beneath the water and leaves you there, if you let it; and sometimes there is no current, sometimes life is placid. 

At least, I think it's placid sometimes, isn't it?  I don't know, it's been awhile.

Sometimes I wonder if not knowing of life's placidity has something to do with me. Is my best at getting through life just a ride on the inflatable tire?

Take love and relationships for an example.  It should be easier, no?  I mean, if it's love, it should have a hint of placidity, even if the current sweeps in once in a while.  Am I wrong?  If it's love, isn't there a steady basin, deep and strong, to catch you and your mate, even if the current overturns you; even if you feel like its hand is holding you under?  Does love always move from adoration, to complacency, to anger, to regret, to indifference? 

Or is this just my baggage?

You know, I jumped on the inflatable tire a few months ago, amidst the swirling - whirlpool - of grief and I sought solidarity with someone else.  I was desperate for that solidarity, for that shoulder to cry on and to lean on, even though I knew that there probably a pretty good likelihood that I would get sucked under and into his whirlpool, or thrown out of the boat and ignored.  Being ignored, I think, is worse than the ripping off of the band-aid or being slapped in the face with the hand of rejection because it's a constant looking over your shoulder for the person you were really beginning to like.

Anyway, this could be old news, this could be recent news.  it doesn't matter because it all follows the same path:  adoration, complacency, anger, regret and finally indifference.

Yet, even with the failure of another relationship in my line of sight, I am able to look beyond it - at that cloud-line that promises something better, or someone better, someone able, someone ready to give and take; someone ready to hold onto my hand and swim with me through the currents.  I have to believe that I will someday swim to those placid waters.  And even if it never happens, isn't it still better than living with the idea that it won't?

In any case, I didn't recently get dumped; nor was I the dumper.  It just so happens that I began dating and really beginning to like someone who was incapable of returning the feelings - though, for awhile, he pretended very well, for his sake, I believe - and it went from talking all day nearly every day to nothing for days on end; then it morphed into a texting thing; and finally, after I looked back on what I have accomplished in the past three years, I stopped trying.  I am astonished by the lack of integrity (perhaps on my part too) to just ignore a person and hope she goes away on her own.  That's just weird for me - I mean, in high school, okay it's understable but in an adult relationship? I tried to figure it out, to be there, to console.  Then I got angry. Regretful. And now, indifferent. 

Same path - different country.

I was blessed with the knowledge that maybe, someday, a good relationship is possible.  I was also kind of tapped with the belief that maybe it's just me.  I mean, the first real relationship after a bad marriage and it goes into the pooper so quickly, and without an apparent cause other than "here one day, gone the next"? Am I that naive in the dating world? 

Ah, I can hear my dad:  "You sure know how to pick 'em."

Bah.

Time to hop on the raft and ride on down to the next bend...

We Are Women

There were eight of us.  Among all eight of us, we have nineteen children.  We went away for the weekend.  Without the kids.

Hence, the margaritas.  Hence, the smiles.  Hence, the rocked out, fashionable, made up versions of us. 

We are women!  We weren't answering to our children.  And they weren't answering to their husbands.  Their husbands just said, "Go.  Have fun.  I got this."   I was in complete shock all weekend over it. 

"You mean, your husbands said, 'okay, go away, no problem, I'll take the kids' without making you feel terrible and guilty?"  They all nodded their heads like, "Uh, yeah, that's marriage."

"You mean to tell me that you're not going to suffer for this little get-away the minute you walk in the door, and fight about it for a month?"

"No Carrie.  We are married, our spouses share in the responsibilities and want us to be happy..."  Again, the puzzled looks.

"Okay, wait a minute.  What did you promise in return for this?"

"Nothing."

And I watched them.  I observed them.  They talked to their husbands, laughing, intimate.  There wasn't a hint of guilt coming from them.  Of course, they missed their kids but they were also so confident about having them with their husbands.  They weren't worried at all about the repercussions! 

Honestly, if I were still married, I wouldn't have been on the trip.  I would have said no because the repercussions would have been too great.  If I had gone, I would have been miserable because I wouldn't have gotten the, "No honey, it's all fine.  Have a great time!" Not before, not during and certainly not after, and it blows me away, sadly, that when I went away, the kids were with me or I didn't go away or I caught hell for it, even for book club once a month on Tuesdays! 

"So, this is a healthy marriage, then?"

"Yes Carrie.  And one day, you'll see that."

I think I have more baggage in my weekend suitcase then they do.

We laughed.  We giggled.  We shopped.  We drank champagne.  We cooked great meals.  We laughed.  We giggled.  We danced until the wee hours of the morning in the middle of the living room.  The ocean was maybe, two hundred feet away and so we appreciated God even more.  We said Grace before dinner.  We were thankful.  And we laughed.  And we giggled.

Weird thing about all of it is that I only really knew one girl (Amy) of the seven girls I shared the house with, and by the second hour, I had made six more close friends.  Now I know that the next time I see them, we will laugh and we will giggle, and we will share.  It was one of the best weekends I have ever had without the kids.

And I came home and didn't have an ounce of guilt and answered to no one.

That is so weird...

Good Ol' Mark Twain

Posted in my "quote" section of this blog is Mark Twain's advice:  "Do the right thing.  It will gratify some people and astonish the rest."

I like that quote a lot because I feel like I am constantly hammering it into the kids' heads. 

"Do the right thing."
"How do you know it's the right thing?"
"You just do.  You feel it in your gut."
"What if my gut's wrong?"
"It's never wrong."
"What if it is?"
"You'll know if it's the right thing, I promise.  Just do the right thing."

Yesterday was my first time experiencing the dramas of a small office.  Actually, it's a huge office, with two different sides: my side is lovingly referred to as the "dark" side and the "money hungry" side; while the other side are the good guys.  Here is a snippet of two conversations I had yesterday.  First one, I knocked on the door of one guy I've known for eleven years, at three different jobs, and when he looked up I smiled.  He said, "Carrie!  So good to see you!  Why the hell did you take this job?"  The second was with a girl that looked like she was in physical pain as I sat by her in a meeting.  I leaned over and whispered, "Is it that bad?"  She said, "I'm searching for a way to shoot myself in the head without making a mess.  It's that bad."

Okay then.  Hmmm...

I'm about eight years away from the melodrama of office quirks, so I should be okay.  The last three years have taught me how to let go of things, little things, fairly well, so though I've heard rumors that the bosses make people cry on a weekly basis, I am of the opinion that if I am in the position where someone is trying to make me cry for showing up, working hard all day and getting things accomplished (because that is all I know to do at any job) then I'm out.  I'm gone.  It's not worth it. 

So, what am I going to do? I'm going to go to work, do way more than what is expected and always do the right thing - pleasing and astonishing others.

Paige had a bad day yesterday.  She said that one of her classmates, Nate (he looks like a mini-Derek Jeter) told her that he hated her, then he said he was sorry, but then he didn't talk to her all day.

"He's a boy, Paige.  They'll do that for the rest of your life."

She saw a work folder on the counter, sat down and started looking through it.  "You have to read all this stuff?"

"Yes."

"In one day?"

I just smiled and said, "It's my job, and you know what Paige? I'll read that, I'll learn it and I'll help people even though I am not required to even read it.  You know why?"

"Because you should always do more than what is expected."

"Exactly.  And that includes being kind to people even when they aren't so nice to you.  Like Nate.  He doesn't mean it when he says he hates you, and secretly he probably adores you because you're beautiful, and instead of getting upset, just shrug it off and be who you are - kind, compassionate, and giving.  He'll come around."

"That's because it's the right thing to do..."  I begin to nod and she says, "And because he wouldn't expect me to be nice after he is so mean!"

She's a genius.

I find it serendipitous that this Mark Twain quote is part of my blog today - it fits perfectly into my world.

Do the right thing:  please people and astonish people.   Thanks Mark.

The Success of Failure

Day three of the new job begins today.  I have sat at my new desk for two days now, looking over materials that I'll need to get the job done, gaining the big picture, twiddling my thumbs, waiting...  when it hits, it's going to hit, but yet again, I am impatient for it to hit now.  Is that crazy?  In six months I will be cursing the job, the new boss, the people I work with, the duties I have to perform and the time that is being sucked from my life by the duties of the job.  That's how it goes when you work at a job that is a mere means to money.  Yet work is what I must do and I'll be good at it.  I'll also be really grateful of it because it is a means to my dreams...

Something has shifted in the past few months.  I was always waiting, waiting, waiting to get a sign or have someone give me advice about what I should do with my life.  It's strange but I bought the new car without thinking, I just knew it was the right thing to do;  I took this new job without thinking, I just knew it was the right thing to do; and now, the decision to go back to school for my master's has been made and I know it is the right thing to do.  I look back on all the wasted months I spent struggling with making a decision when the power was in my hands the whole time.  Fear of success, fear of failure... they were always in the running for my attention.  Now?  Whatever.  People succeed, people fail, they fall, they get back up, the fall again, they get back up...

It's just a different perspective, I suppose.  A different, empowering, perspective.  I no longer need a "sign" from someone or something, I just need to move my body and heart toward my goals - goals that have always been there but I failed to see them.  Somebody pulled those blinders from my eyes in the past few months.

The failure, if it happens, will be mine to fix.
The success, if it happens, will be mine to share.

I like to fix.  I like to share. So, let's get on with it already. 

Have a good day.  I know I'm going to try.

Zippity Do Da

Let's see.  It's election day.  I can't wait to get out there and vote!  The politicians make it so darn easy with all the honesty and forthright details about all the important and socially critical points.  Boy, voting for them is such a treat!

I also can't wait to roll up a pair of socks and stick the meaty part in my mouth until I gag.

It's also All Souls Day, say a prayer for the faithfully departed souls.  I did and I will throughout the day.

Most interesting about this day is that I have managed to wake up and string together letters to make words to make sentences after another night of tossing and turning, jaw-clenching and whining.  Sleep is evading me these days - it's mad at me for some reason and leaves pockets of exhaustion in the corner of every room I inhabit, including my brand new office.

Yesterday was day one of my new job.  It looks like it might be a keeper.  The people I met seem cool, the work seems bearable and familiar, and the whole idea of having a life outside this house feels necessary.  I loved working from home for all those years, don't get me wrong, yet, driving my new car the twenty minutes to work makes me happy, and saying, "Good morning Ralph, good morning George, good morning coffee has its perks (Ha. I made a nice little pun there, did you see that?).  I actually crave the ritual, and know that when the work starts to hit (oh, and it will hit because there is a lot of work), I will fall into the rhythm of producing and achieving, and I like the way that feels.

If only I could get some damn sleep!  I'd like to say it is because I am in such deep thought about my political choices (actually, no, I wouldn't like that at all), but it isn't.  I'd like to say it's because I am pepped up with excitement over all the fun things I've been doing in my life, but alas, that's not it.  Because I'm anxious over the new job?  Because the dogs keep me up?  Because I can hardly wait to rise and greet the new day?  Nope. Nope. Nope.

It's grief.  Plain and simple.  I wake, I think, I get sad, I pray, I fall asleep; I wake, I think, I get sad, I pray, I fall asleep...  same old, same old, and it blows.

Hey, did I mention it's election day, oh and All Souls Day, and yeah, the second day of my new job? 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... sleepy....zzzzzzzzzz.....

Crazy Catholics!

Happy All Saints Day!  Shall I make a cake, or should I wait until tomorrow when it is All Souls Day?  Who says Catholics don't like to party?!

All Saints Day is a Catholic day dedicated to all the Saints, who at the time of their death, were so squeaky clean, they automatically entered heaven.  We, as Catholics, pray for them on this day as a way of say, "Way to go!  Good job! Lucky bastards!"

All Souls Day, celebrated on November 2nd of every year in the Catholic church, is dedicated to all the faithful departed who still have a little soil on their souls - maybe a few venial sins ("a partial loss of grace from God"; a "forgiveable" sin) that need to be cleansed in Purgatory before heading up to heaven.  For example, my callling the Saints "lucky bastards" could conceivably be considered a venial sin.  It was a little mis-step from Grace and I will ask for forgiveness as soon as I stop giggling over the fact that I called the Saints lucky bastards. 

Of course, the faithful departed may also have dirtier, heartier sins on their souls, called mortal sins [ (1) Its subject must be a grave (or serious) matter; 2) It must be committed with full knowledge, both of the sin and of the gravity of the offense (no one is considered ignorant of the principles of the moral law, which are inborn as part of human knowledge, but these principles can be misunderstood in a particular context); 3) It must be committed with deliberate and complete consent, enough for it to have been a personal decision to commit the sin.  (For example, breaking of one or more of the Ten Commandments)].  If they are not cleansed of these sins, according to the Catholic religion, they are condemned to hell for all of eternity.  And so, we pray for them every day, but especially on All Souls Day.

I know, I know... those Catholics are crazy!  I can envision some of my readers shaking their heads at the content of this blog, saying, "Why'd she have to go there with all her crazy Catholic rituals?  This All Souls and All Saints Day stuff is a bunch of hoopla."

Maybe.
Maybe not.

I think it's kind of cool that the Catholic religion is so meaty, and so clear cut on its standards.  There are some harsh circumstances to sinning, no?  And it doesn't hurt to know what the standards of the most popular religion in the Western hemisphere has to say about stuff.  If nothing else, regardless of whether you believe it, you learned something new today.

What I know as I go through this day and all day tomorrow is that I'll be grateful.  I'll be grateful that Mother Theresa, St. Anthony, St. Michael, St. Francis and all the other Saints who achieved sainthood through the simple act of loving, gave me a bit of a higher standard to live by; and using their achievements, I will pray for the faithful departed that, if Purgatory exists, they're being cleansed so that after my stint in the purgatory slammer, I'll be able to see them in heaven after I die.

There's nothing wrong with praying.  So, the hoopla, as it has been described, might be just a crazy Catholic thing, but what the heck, I'm still praying for something, my focus is on something other than the bullshit, pain and hurt of life on earth. So why not?

And that's all I got to say about that.