New Years Resolution.....

... to write in my blog at least once per week.

The Price of Fear

Lately I have been reflecting on how hard it is to get motivated to do certain things in life. All of the sudden I am afraid, for example, to really take a look at my checkbook, and my financial situation, or to really take a look at what kind of foods I am eating during the day and perhaps take a look at putting regular exercise into my daily routine. Is it that I am lazy? Or irresponsible? Or just plain crazy?

I think that the answer is that I am afraid. Afraid of what knowing the answers will require of my life. When I think about it in a rational way, I have NO idea what I am afraid of. Since delving into those things of which I am afraid, would in fact only set me free. I know that it sounds like a “cliché” but it will set us free. On my wall in front of my desk, I have a quote, “Stand up to your obstacles and do something about them. You will find that they haven't half the strength you think they have.” It is so true, that taking care of things in our life will begin to break all of those things that keep us from being all that we can be. But, the fact remains that, “I am afraid!”. I live in this place of fear, and therefore, things don’t get done and I become my own worse enemy. I spend a lot of time in “self sabatoge mode”. After all, I would never let a friend live through most of the things that I allow myself to live through. I would help my friend, and tell her to “suck it up” and make that phone call to the mortgage company or I would help her take one step at a time in figuring out a new budget so that life would not be so pressured. I would help her if she called me when she felt empty and wanted to go and spend money just to make herself feel good. I would help her figure out how to have that difficult conversation with her father in the nursing home, because certain words need to be said before it is too late. I have all the skills in my head to do those things, and for a friend, I would help her manage all these things. But, that is not how I live; I live in a way that doesn’t really make sense when I look at things in that rational place. So, what to do? How do we stop living in this place of fear?

I have a friend that seems fearless. He takes on the world, and believes that he will be successful. He doesn’t allow the voices to come into his head and think that what he dreams about is impossible. This is truly a character that I admire in him. How can he believe that all is possible? He says that he “knows” that if he puts the needed effort into something that there is no way it will turn out bad. Now, he does admit that sometimes things will not go the way he had planned, but they will NEVER go bad. He believes in God’s plan for good, even despite his flaws. He truly has a sense that God desires only good for him and his life, and he is ready to make the sacrifices and has the determination to create dreams and to pursue them. I have never seen him afraid. Because he does not live in fear, he lives in freedom, no matter what is going on his life. I want to be like that.

Fear sometimes, can be a wonderful thing to hold on to. Fear can be such a great excuse. It is in fact, the excuse that allows us to be creative in our excuses. All my life, I felt that I had a book lurking inside me. I felt that I had talent to write, but I was afraid to fail. I was defeated before I even started to write. So many things in my life didn’t get done because I was afraid to fail. But in this life, we will never be successful in anything if we do not take the risk to fail. After all, this is one of the things that I want my child to know, not to hold back, and to give life all that you can give. Only when you give life all you have, will you get the rewards that God has in store for you.

Recently, when John Travolta tragically lost his son, I was reminded that everyone In life has a cross to bear, that no matter how successful, how rich, how famous, everyone feels their heart break on occasion, and somehow, we stand back up and continue the journey we call our life. We can all experience a loss so great that we feel we can not go another step. But we need to live in faith. Not in some blind faith, but faith that God really wants good for us; that God knows more than we do, and that in every struggle, is an opportunity to learn something more about ourselves and this experience of life. In tragedy we can become closer to one another as human beings, and we can, ultimately become closer to God our creator. In knowing this, what on earth should we be afraid of?

Even with all this knowledge, I am afraid, and I live in that place. I am afraid that life will get the best of me, that I will not know the feeling of accomplishing even one dream, that I will spend the end of my life alone, that I will be laughed at, and the list could go on and on. How does someone get over the fear? I really believe that we get over the fear by doing a couple of things. (And, I am dedicating myself to adopt these into my life daily). First, we have to take a step at a time. A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. We certainly wouldn’t start walking on a thousand mile journey, but we can take one step toward our destination. We have to look at our problems and obstacles in small digestible pieces. Only we can determine how big that step is, but we have to be able to manage it. I know, for me, I have to stop seeing life as Mt. Everest, and start taking the small hills first. Today, this hour, I can take care of one thing in which I was procrastinating because of my fear.

Secondly, we have to visualize the worse possible scenario, and we have to have a vision of what life could be like with that obstacle out of the way. We need to ask ourselves, “Is that feeling of freedom worth the risk of the worse possible outcome? It has been my experience that life is never as bad as the worse possible scenario I can create in my mind.

And most importantly, we have to believe that we have what it takes to reach our dreams. My friend that I spoke about has this unbelievable sense of his abilities and a great belief in himself, despite what the people around him think. What would life be like if we were no longer afraid? Would we be closer to those around us because we could finally share our feelings in a more honest, vulnerable way and they could do the same? Would people around us finally really know us, and therefore would we feel less lonely? Would we smile more? Would we be better parents? Siblings? Friends? What would life be like? What would I be like?
I don’t know about you, but I want to work on finding out.

Noah and the Nuns

Image via Wikipedia

When I was a small girl, we would not go on “vacations” but we would take the drive to Montreal and to Sherbrooke to visit relatives. My mother had 5 sisters who all became nuns. I use to love to go and visit them, as most of them lived in very large convents. These old buildings were like walking into some kind of castle. The places all had a familiar feeling to them. I remember having to sit quietly for hours as my parents visited with them. Sometimes if we were lucky we would have a book to read to break up the day. Sometimes, if we were really, really lucky, my Aunt would allow us to roam around the convent. I remember this particular day, (my Aunt Madeleine was the Mother Superior),the students were gone on vacation, and so the classrooms were empty and we were allowed to go into the classrooms, and I was able to write on the chalkboards (this was a fascination of mine, and frequently got into trouble at school for writing on the board). At that time, the sisters were in full habit and seemed very much untouchable and somewhat inhuman. These experiences brought a sense of a certain awe about life; to know these women and those around them who gave their lives for something bigger than themselves. They have never owned a house, a car or anything else that we subconsciously (or not so subconsciously) judge ourselves and other worth by. I have some wonderful memories in these convents.

When I had my son, and I was unmarried, and I had my share of “catholic guilt”; my Aunt Lorraine came to visit me and she told me that my son was a gift, and that now, God had made sure that I would not be alone in my life. She told me that my job, was to give the best life I could to this child, and that God had not abandoned me. It gave me such a renewed spirit. It was exactly what I needed to hear and because of that one conversation I have been a better mother. TShat day my Aunt became approachable and human. She even began to use her English (they only spoke French when I grew up) and she began to be a woman that was not just my aunt the nun, but was this woman of which I was her namesake and admired.

Last weekend, I decided to take my mother and my son to visit her in Montreal. It had been the first time in many, many years that I went back to the convent. It was SO different. Because of the decrease in the amount of women entering the convent, they were forced to sell these “castle like” buildings and now live in small homes throughout the city. While they continue to live in community, they live with about 7 or 8 other sisters. However, it was interesting, that when you entered this small house, one still had that “feeling” of awe that I had experienced in the much bigger convents.

That day we had the pleasure of visiting Mount Royal, and the Oratory of St. Joseph.I loved taking my son to this amazing church, and see him experience something I did when I was his age. It was the greatest as we opened the front door and he experienced the scenery of all of Montreal in front of us. Through him, I was experiencing all of it again for the first time. He had many good questions and my best memory was of my son, kneeling in front of the alter praying the “Our Father”. How could God ever ignore the prayers of this innocent creature? I saw myself in him. All day was an amazing experience. It brought me back to my roots and reminded me of who I was. We went to the little gift shop and he got a rosary and a nice wooden cross necklace. We went down to the crypt, and there a priest was available to bless our new things and to give us a blessing also. It was such a moment, standing there with my son, being blessed in this amazing place and hearing these words from a priest we had never met, but for some reason, he was saying the words that both Noah and I needed to hear. After, we received small bottles of holy water.

Image by MusMs via Flickr

After visiting the church, we returned to the convent. There they had dinner for us; only in a way that nuns can give you dinner. Simple, yet elegant. They had rice soup, and Noah doesn’t really like rice soup, and normally he would just be honest and say that he didn’t like rice soup; but today, he was determined to eat this soup because the nuns had made it for him. I was very proud of him. There was something in the atmosphere that, while we couldn’t explain it, was affecting us. After dinner, Noah showed the sisters how his DSi worked, they were amazed at this little gadget, and he was able to take pictures of them, and one sister, took a picture of him. But it was Sr. Monique that changed my son’s life that day. She was interested in him, she listened to him and she was truly present to him. While my mother, aunt and I were in the parlor talking, Noah and Sr. Monique were in the kitchen, test driving a small matchbox car over some obstacles. They must have spent an hour in there together. When they finally arrived to the parlor, Noah had a new friend. When we left he hugged her, in a a way that a child would hug a long lost grandmother. All the sisters thought he was a great boy and told him that they would pray for him. They also told him that he was welcomed there anytime and that they hoped that he would come again soon.

When we got into the car, he was unusually quiet, we were driving away from the house, and he said, “I only wish for one thing, that I could spend just a few more moments with Monique.” I thought that it was a cute statement, but then I realized that he had started crying. How could someone he met and only spent a couple of hours with have such an impact on him. He cried for sometime on the way home, this cry that comes from his heart. What was it that touched him so much? Sr. Monique was different than most people, she had the gift to be present to others. She was able to put aside what she might have wanted, though I don’t think that this ever enters her mind. She genuinely wanted to know this little boy and she was the hand of God on earth. She made this sometimes awkward little boy feel special, feel important and feel that he mattered. She was able to teach him that day, of the love God has for him. It was unconditional, it was given freely and it was genuine. This is what touched my son’s heart in the convent that day. It was the same thing that touched my heart when I was young, this pure feeling of God that was all around you when you entered into a holy space. I was so grateful to God that through Sr. Monique he touched my son in the most personal way.

Image by Prisoner 5413 via Flickr

Now, when Noah has troubles, he takes the holy water and sprinkles himself with a faith that God will help him in his trials. He is somehow different, a bit more mature, a bit more caring, gentle and thoughtful. Our lives changed that day, and we were given a gift, a gift of love for the next generation in the convent.

(As soon as I figure out how to take the pictures off of the DSi, I will post Noah and the nuns.)

12 Things Smart People Know ( The Important Points of Life I Want to Teach My Son)

Image by Ben Sutherland via Flickr

1. Never forget your first roller coaster ride. (If you haven’t ridden one yet, get on one Now)
2. Be honest no matter what, the long term outcomes outweigh the anxiety of the moment.
3. Give your soul to your children, they deserve it more than anyone else.
4. Things are just things.
5. Find who you are early in life, so that you can live a life doing what you love. Be prepared for it to change and grow.
6. Learn to forgive yourself, without letting your self off the hook.
7. Be kind and empathetic to those around you.
8. Save for a rainy day, because we all have to live through spring.
9. Carry your photo album in your head.
10. Find something big to believe in; never forget your spirit side.
11. Cherish snow days.
12. You owe it to the world to let your creative powers loose.

Reflections on a Spa Day

Friday I was able to experience my very first massage, it was truly a spiritual experience! I am sold that people should have this regularly, and never, ever wait 45 years! It brought to me however, the question...Why is the human touch so healing? At first I thought that perhaps it would feel like the massage chairs in the hall at the mall, however, it was so much more than that!




I began a search on the Internet to read about this very subject, the human touch. My first overwhelming experience of human touch happened when my son, Noah, was an infant. Within just minutes of being born, he was experiencing his first touches. I wondered what he was experiencing as he was being moved from one person to another, how the nurses wash them off, in not the most gentle way or at least that is how I perceived it. And my first experience of him was seeing him lying on the table, totally naked and vulnerable, people doing this and that to him, and him crying uncontrollably. His face red, his lips quivering. I understand that you do want to hear that cry, but for Noah, it so sounded like a cry to return to the womb, to be once again enveloped in some one's love. No words, no compromises, no fears, just this immersion into the perfect love. No past to create a sense of insecurity.When he was finally put into my arms, I felt the most close to any human being than I had ever been. We spent many years, hugging, kissing, holding each other close.

As a single mother, who spends more hours at work than at home, being close to him physically had to be a priority for successful parenting. I made a decision, when he was a toddler that he would not be "made" to sleep in his own bed, and he could use the other half of mine. I was focused on his need to feel close to me, even though we spent so many hours away from each other during the day. I had a sense that I was on the right track when, in the middle of the night, I felt this little hand, touching my arm, looking for reassurance that I was present. It was very much a part of the bonding process. As he got bigger physically, and more independent emotionally and intellectually, our moments of physical closeness lessened. My life somehow became much more busy and stressful as his caretaker as well as that of my parents. I had more responsibilities at work, my own sense of feeling of alone-ness, the pressure of bills, home repairs, etc. and found myself spending less and less time, hugging my child. Mornings were rushed to get to school, evenings are full of homework, bath time, dinner, etc. It has become more of a habit of rushing him to and fro then taking a moment to feel him close, or to smell his hair, or to touch his hand. The other day, he was typing on the computer and I couldn't believe how large his hands had become. No little baby anymore! And still, he finds his way to my bed at night, lying close, and still sometimes reaching that hand to feel my presence. His size duped me, I thought he was older and didn't need that so much. But, I realized that I am 45, and desperately longing for someone to put their arms around me, don't need to say anything, don't need to fix the problem, just to hold me, touch me, and heal my humanness.

The need for touch is almost as powerful as the need for air, food and water. Studies have shown that there are destructive consequences of inadequate or inappropriate touch. Everone needs touch, despite your age. Recently, my mother (76) hugged me (45) goodbye when I was leaving for work, and telling me, that she doesn't know why she doesn't hug me more often, after all I was once her baby. And it felt great. It swept me back into my childhood and gave me a sense of connection, from what I was and what I have become.

There is a wonderful poem about the idea of the human touch, by Spencer Michael Free (1856-1938) :

’Tis the human touchin this world that counts,

The touch of your hand and mine,

Which means far more to the fainting heart

Than shelter and bread and wine.

For shelter is gonewhen the night is o’er,

And bread lasts only a day.

But the touch of the hand

And the sound of the voice

Sing on in the soul always.

I found this on www.suite101.com/article.cfm/womens_health/83603

"Are you interested in learning how to include touch in your
life? Here are a few beginning tips:

• Start by kissing friends hello on the cheek. If that makes you
  uncomfortable, try hugs. A good hug is a quick, anti-stress remedy, as
  spiritually healing as hours of meditation. The person you are hugging has the
  power, with their touch, to free you from the tyranny of your restless mind.
• As most of us are realizing, our society does not have a very
  affectionate culture (except during a tragedy) but you can overcome this. Begin
  with a friendly pat on a person's back. Walk arm and arm with a friend. When
  talking to someone, gently touch his or her arm or hand during the conversation.
  Small touches can go a long way to making a person's day.
• We all know that gently touching a child can help them to
  develop into loving, caring adults, so spend more "touching" time with them. Snuggle with your children while watching television. Tackle them just for the fun of it, and even rub their backs while they sleep. I know not everyone is into the Family Bed, but for the first two years of each of my children's lives, they slept with me. It was crowded and inconvenient on occasion, but wonderful. They slept all night and woke each morning in a pleasant mood.
  
• Rub your husband/partner's back for 30 minutes, and then insist
  on receiving one in turn. Try to do this each night instead of having a cocktail. The benefits are long lasting. Even a self-massage has wonderful benefits. "

So what does this all mean? I think that it means, that God made us to show our emotions, to take the scarey leap, and lean over and touch the person beside you; I think that it means sometimes, we have to forget our own personal space and that of others and just touch one another. There are times in life when a touch means more than any word could convey. Our world needs more people hugging!

In the words of Bruce Springsteen:

"Oh girl, that feeling of safety that you prize,
Well it comes at a hard, hard price
You can't shut off the risk and the pain
Without losing the love that remains
We are all riders on this train."

I know that for me, I will hug and kiss my Mom and Son today, and everyday that God gives me with them.

Check out the Free Hug Campaign Video !

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4

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• Beyond the Baby B's: Attachment Through Play (attachmentparenting.org)

To Be or Not to Be...with the "right" guy

We all want to be with the "right" person. But how do we know what that means really? Recently I went on a "blind" internet date. I was most nervous because I thought of all the things that were wrong with me. I worked hard not to have a bad hair day, make sure my clothing was correct for the occasion, and no unsightly bulges were too accentuated. I made sure legs were shaved, all unwanted facial hair was gone, make up perfect (not too much, not too little) and I smelled really good. I left the house pretty confident that I had found a balance of looking put together but not too much so. And so off I went to meet this virtual stranger. There he was waiting in the parking lot, like he said he would. I was a little surprised, it didn't seem like he put ANY effort into this and well I think he might have taken his shirt out of the laundry basket, done one of those sniffs guys do to make sure that it was ok, and ran out the door. But hey, I am not a shallow person, so I tried not to make any judgements. We went into the resteraunt, and I found that I was at ease and the conversation went pretty well, with only a few quiet spots here and there. THe margaritas were good and cheap but I still wasn't committing to a "meal", despite the waitresses constant attention of what we would like to order. After a few margarita's his lack of personal style, his inability to ask me any questions about myself, and his constant talk of his ex didn't seem to matter. My expectations and standards were waining a little (this is not a point I am proud of, mind you) and the date continued on. What got was this... after years of suffering from "male attention deprivation" I found myself just liking the fact that someone liked me in returned. I had actually gone, met someone from the internet, and sat there, across from him feeling pretty confident! This was such a new feeling to me. And I was going to bask in it. And so we spent quite an enjoyable day together, I actually had fun. Probably because he did not intemidate me, what did I have to lose really. But by the end of the day I was convinced that I wanted to see him again, perhaps it was because of his lake house, but really I have to admit there was somthing charming about him, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. After the date was done, I didn't really know if we would see each other again. He was very much involved with women from Russia, and loved the fact that they were beautiful...his actual words were that they "looked like strippers". Well, I am about as far as one can get from the stripper type, and that is when I kind of had a hint that this guy, who was nothing I would want in a male, and was about to let go of all my standards, thought that I was not good enough for him!! Hmmm. It really threw me for a loop, considering this guy, in my head, was suppose to be thanking his lucky stars that he found someone so "normal" as me on the internet, and that we lived relatively close by to each other, and while we were both middle aged, had young boys. On paper we were great for each other. But ultimately, I wanted someone who would wear a clean shirt to dinner, and he wanted a skinny stripper type, that spoke limited english, and would not afford saying something about his "style" because she would be grateful to be in the US! So, I sent a nice email saying that I thought we were in different places in life...and he sent me an email saying that he couldn't see me anymore because his "dog had died". Seriously??

This whole thing got me thinking, to what extent does a person have to compromise to have someone in thier life? I know that all of relationships are compromises, but at this age, in your mid 40's peole have baggage, and I guess we just have to choose what baggage we are willing to live with, or are we willing to take the risk that we might have to go it alone. They say that when one door closes another opens, I don't know if it is true. It seems that looking back there have been times that a door closed and nothing else came in its place. But I do have hope. Hope that something will come along to make life feel a little less lonely. I have also come to the conclusion, that it is a sick joke God has played on us, because i think that we all have this inner thing, that makes us want to be connected to someone else. I think that we can all put a strong face on and say that we are find, happy, complete alone, but ultimately, God has given us this "thing"; this thing that makes us want to be hugged, want to be touched, want to be wanted, connecting with someone on a mind, body, spiritual level. It seems that God wants us to expect that from a relationship, and who are we to not reach for it!

I have dedicated myself to get out there, and find some connection, and maybe make some friends along the way, and who knows, maybe God will bless me with more than that. But until I really think that the guy sitting in front of me, is THAT guy, I will hold my standards up, somewhat, in a realistic manner. No one is perfect, but someone is perfect for me.

A Thought for my Wonderful, Single Women Friends...

[I received this in my email box today, from a great friend and thought it was definitely worth sharing. Thank you Marion!]

Apples

Women are like apples on the trees. The best ones are on the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think there is something wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.



Thank you to all the "good apples" who are my friends.

10 Red Flags when meeting a man on the internet

Sometimes us normally smart women leave our brains at the door when we meet someone run across an profile who seems to have you in mind when he wrote it. Can anyone be this perfect for you?? Of course, we tell ourselves, but just like in every other area of our life, we have to remain smart! So here are 10 red flags to watch out for when meeting a man on line...

10. He slips the term, "Friends with benefits" any where in the profile, even if it was a generic choice in the "what kind of relationship are you looking for" category. A good man would not admit to wanting this relationship. We smart women know that EVERY man would get involved in this type of relationship, so it is a given and should never be spoken out loud.

9. He lists his age as 45, but the only picture you can find on his profile was his senior picture from high school. Lots could have happened between then and now. Pictures should be taken in the last year, or ok, if you feel like giving him a break, and aren't afraid of surprises, the pic is 2 years old.

8. He likes to take long walks on the beach or some other romantic activity. Don't you think that men who can afford to go to an exotic beach, and take walks on the beach must have someone to take those walks with. Do men really dream of taking long walks on the beach? Or is there idea of a romantic time is really great seats at their favorite teams events. 99% of men have something about "romantic walks" on the beach listed as an activity. I have been to the beach lately, and I didn't see a whole lot of single guys walking up and down the beach. But hey, it could be his fantasy and once he hooks up with you he will take you regularly on the beach for a walk. Or perhaps he will take the dog. Who knows.

7. He is between jobs right now. My experience that the men on line have some time on thier hands. Its not wrong for a woman to ask about a man's plan! Maybe they are between jobs, especially in this economy, but hey, they should be making plans, and if times are difficult maybe it is time to dedicate themselves to a new work plan, not a romantic one. The best have their ducks in a row before they offer to bring someone into their lives. That is if they are planning something real with someone.

6. He is 6' tall. No matter his height take a few inches off. This also goes for other parts of his anatomy; although if he mentions the size of any other, specific parts of his anatomy, turn the other way. A man cannot be measured by the size of anything else but his character. Make sure that he has a good character.

5. His picture vaguely resembles an underwear model you noticed in last season's JC Penney catalog. We all want to meet a very attractive, modelesque man, however, the chances of him being on a local dating service is pretty slim. Keep your head girls, your best bet is the "average" man.

6. Not looking for any "mama drama". One hardly ever mentions anything on a profile that you haven't experienced. Which means that he has experienced "mama drama" personally; is this with the woman or women that he has had children with? Maybe he should not worry about you bringing about "mama drama" but that there is a woman in his past that may bring YOU mama drama.

5. His home town is listed as "Bagdad" and somewhere in the profile he is looking for a nice american woman whom he will cherish. Ok, women, remember that the culture that a man grows up in makes the man. It is like finding a man who is native to the north country and you are shocked that he is planning a hunting trip in November! I do not like to "dump" a group of people into a basket and make generalizations...however, it is difficult to think that a man from the middle east will have similar views to womens rights. Before you jump into a relationship with this man, rent the movie "Not Without My Daughter" and then make a decision.

4. He has more than one profile, using different names on the same dating sight. The pictures kind of look like him, and his home town, while in the same region are listed differently. Do I even need to comment on this one??

3. While he is emailing you, he is also emailing a friend of yours. Of course he is just emailing her to ask about YOU and tell her how wonderful YOU are. However, your friend reports that he asks her about meeting. Again, 'nough said. Why would your friend lie, is she your friend? Remember he is just a guy on the internet and you know your friend.

2. His second email is a poetic piece of art. Does the average guy have the skills to write you letters that sound they came from Shakespeare, pronouncing his love to you. Make sure the emails equal the level you know each other. No one can fall in love with you over the intenet. Love takes time to grow, and while you may be attracted to someone quickly, it is NOT love. Love takes experience with each other, it takes at least one experience of looking into each others eyes. Love takes the assurance that the person you are in love with is real. Ask yourself if you think you are in love with this person, or in the thought of "being" in love. Don't allow yourself to be swept off your feet, and swept right into a place that causees your life more trouble than you can imagine. Remember, love should enhance your life, not bring you crazy drama.

1. "I have no baggage." Is he old enough to be participating in the single dating sight? If he is over the age of 25, he has some kind of baggage, we all do. One thing that women do to themselves is that we believe that everyone in the world is a better catch than we are. You know what? It ISN'T true! People have problems, people have things to overcome in your life. So, keep it balanced, between not looking for someone who is perfect and someone who has baggage that you can't deal with. We can all deal with different things in life, make a list of the things that you COULD deal with, and all the things that are deal breakers, and STICK TO IT! You know yourself best, be your own best friend and don't allow yourself to end up with someone that you wouldn't let your best friend date. Treat yourself in a way that you deserve.

The older we get, the harder it is to find that someone special. It is the truth. It is my opinion that the older we are the harder it is for us to be secure in ourselves, too much has happened, we have made too many mistakes, and we feel that we have to cover things up or we will look stupid, not responsible enough, not smart enough, blah, blah, blah. We are so much more alike than we are different. Question things that don't make sense, use your voice and ask questions, if they don't like you asking the questions, than he is not for you. Other than that, have fun, be safe and hopefully we will all find that someone special.

Unforgettable

Memorial Day
Today (and everyday) I remember my friend Brian. It seems so strange that it has been more than 12 years since Brian passed away. I wonder if he knows that a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of him. I wonder if he knew the impact that he has had on my life.

Brian was probably the best person I have ever known. He was open to people, and he had this real innocent way about him. What he was, was what you saw and experienced of him. Now, I wonder if that was really true. How can a person end their own life if they do not, in part, feel that they are not able to be themselves. I believe now, that Brian was very controlled. He let you in only so far, and showed people only what he thought people would be ok with. Maybe, there is some part of him that he thought no one could accept or understand. I understand the thought of suicide, and I think that there are people in the world that struggle with it all the time. I don’t understand it in a “clinical” way, what would make some people just naturally think about it? My whole life I struggled with the prospect of “checking out”. Sometimes the feeling was stronger than others, and it was really my whole hearted belief in God and this endless belief in hope and the ability for life to change. It has been a struggle, and in the last few years I have taken medications to help with depression and anxiety, but I have to admit that it doesn’t take the thoughts away. I have responsibilities with my family and some days, this is the only thing that keeps me from “checking out” early. I remember when finding out about Brian, part of me was angry, how did he dare just “checking out”, didn’t he know that there were some of us right next to him, struggling with the same thing every day. How would he know, we never talked about it. In our little group of friends, we met each other through a single group that a friend and I started through our church. Here we were a group of young “Christian” adults, trying to figure out our place in this world. We were all struggling; we were all tripping on life; tripping in the sense that we constantly made mistakes. Constantly choose the wrong people to date, constantly partied and related to each other in an artificial sense, because many times alcohol was involved. I think that we all lived in fear, I know that I did; thinking that these people would not like me if they really knew me. We were such pretenders; and that pretending cost us, big time. It cost us the life of one of our dear friends. It is interesting that after Brian’s death, the group didn’t get together as much and people just began to disappear. Gone. Why didn’t we just tell each other exactly what we were feeling, why couldn’t we share with each other how scared we were, how lost we were, how alone we were? Maybe all of us would have felt better, maybe we would have found what we were looking for – real life, real love.

I have so many great memories of Brian. I remember the first time that I heard his name. I was sitting at a meeting about a youth retreat that I was working on. Someone mentioned that a new single guy had moved into the parish, and that perhaps we could get him involved. I thought: hey get the guy involved, we always need men to volunteer. I was hurrying around at the camp, taking care of last minute details for this confirmation retreat. There was this good looking guy, kind of looking like he was uncomfortable being there, and thought oh good the guy came. I went to say hello; only because I was in charge and I felt some type of obligation. In the past, girls like me didn’t introduce themselves to guys like him. (You know, the fat girl never walked up to the good looking guy!) He told me that he had not brought any extra clothes or equipment because he couldn’t stay overnight but that he would help out through the afternoon and evening. I remember walking and thinking, “figures, those types of guys just can’t put themselves out there”. And I continued on with my, trust no one, do it yourself attitude. I had so many things to get done, I didn’t think too much about it. And then, it came time for me to do my “testimony” and so I talked about my life of insecurity, my need to accept my weight, and what I suffered through in feeling unaccepted, unlovable, etc…that comes from living a life in obesity. I remember looking over at Brian while I did my talk, and he was really listening. It made me feel a little self conscious. The talk was good, and the kids reported that they too felt the way I did, for whatever reason. And then, Brian walked up to me, and told me that he really liked my talk, and that even though he didn’t have any extra clothes or anything, he would stay the whole weekend. I was shocked. It felt great though. And we talked a little during the weekend, but not too much. I am sure that we laughed and joked around, because that was my way. I remember that I was just glad he had stayed.

Then someone had the idea that we begin a young adult ministry for the parish; great idea, I was a single adult maybe it would be fun. So, we got some single adults together to plan the group. I remember we met at Shoney’s for breakfast on a Saturday morning. And there was Brian. I remember he sat across from me. And I was happy when I could make him laugh. I worked really hard to make him laugh. I can’t really remember how it came about, but he asked me to his apartment for dinner. Not just me, but me and Elizabeth. I remember walking to the door, and this feeling overwhelmed me; this feeling that Brian would become a really important part of my life. It was the strangest feeling, I had only had it one time before, and that was my first love. But when I look back on it now, I understand that how much every moment of our lives adds to the next. I remember when I loved Chris, my first love, that I was this loving being, never having been rejected before I had no fears. But Chris’ rejection, put fear in my life and I realize now that I will never, ever love like that again. I person can’t, I suppose that is the magic of first love. And so here is Brian, he cooked spaghetti and we had a lot of fun and thus our friendship began. I remember that when we were out with our friends, it was them and Brian and I. We always had this connection and even when he had invited girls to the parties or the events, it still would end up that we, Brian and I were together on a couch talking or laughing. I was happy when the girls would walk away in frustration. Everyone loved Brian, and it became very interesting that I think at one time or another every girl in the singles group had a crush on him. I sat in the background knowing that they would fail in their quest and that at the end of the day, Brian and I would be best buds and they would be inconsequential. One day, Brian had an invitation from one of the girls in the group, to go to her house for dinner. I had been at the lake all day, had stopped by his house on the way back into town, and he told me that I “had” to go with him to her house, that he did not want to go alone and that he couldn’t say no to her. So I said that it was a “date” and that really he should not bring an extra girl on a date. I remember laughing when he didn’t realize it was a date. So I called our friend “Raul” to come with us so that I could at least have a “date” also. Too funny! We arrive at her house, and a feast is being cooked, and on the table and counter was a lot of alcohol. There was a lot of tequila, and whiskey. It was this weird feeling of walking into a lair. I felt sorry for him. So, for some reason, Brian and this girl begin drinking, and Raul and I are kind of watching this go down. To make a long story short, but the end of the evening, I am helping her in the bathroom and she gets sick. And Raul decides to go home, however Brian begs me to stay. So, I can’t say no to him, so I stay. I get her to bed and come back down stairs, and can’t find Brian, I walk outside and he is in the back field (this house was in the country) just walking around and I walk with him, and we sit down on the grass, and he realized that he had broke his glasses, and as usual I was fixing the glasses, and he began to cry. It was the first time I had seen this emotion coming from him. And I told him that it was ok, I would fix the glasses no problem. But then he said to me, “Do you know how hard it is to be me?” and really I didn’t know what to say. To me he was perfect. I told him that we all feel like fuck ups that he shouldn’t be so hard on himself. I had never seen him like that before, he seemed so vulnerable. In that moment, I just loved him so much. But how do you tell that to someone in that state. We spent the night in the living room of this women and when the sun came up, I drove him home in his car. The end. Never to speak of that moment again. But we knew that we were closer. It was just never spoken about. Then it happened. I was having a party in at my house, all the group was there. We were drinking of course, and listening to music, people dancing. And then, a Natalie Cole song came on, “Unforgettable” and somehow Brian and I started slow dancing and then I we felt everything. And we looked at each other, and we just began kissing, this long most honest kiss, and that night Brian spent the night with me. We just spent the night in each other’s arms. Nothing more than kissing and touching. I remember I woke and he was sleeping there, and I swore that this was the man that I was going to marry. When we woke up that morning, I was so nervous, I didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know if he wanted to stay, didn’t know if he was just drunk the night before and I was too shy or stupid to ask where we stood. He spent the day at my house, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I was so…afraid. That I did nothing, waiting for him to say something that would have made sense of what we just experienced. We never talked about it again. And then he began dating another girl. I thought that was that. I was crushed. Then our friend got married. I called him to ask him if he wanted to go to the wedding with me and in a moment of courage, asked him if he would go with me as my “date”, repeating it several times. He said yes, that he would go with me as my date. And there I was at the wedding sitting with our friends, feeling awkward, watching him dance with all the women who asked him to dance. Then I was helping my friend with the food, and I felt someone behind me, and there he was and he took my hand and we danced a slow dance together. He told me that he was wondering when he was going to be able to dance with his “date”. It was such a moment. But we never talked about that either. It was always so hard for me to talk about my feelings, and I never dated, and in love I was always the loser, and this time, on top of all those feelings, I didn’t want to lose my friend. And so we went on, never talking about it. Like always he dated girls that he would meet here and there. He always had a lot girls around him. None like me though..lol I moved away, feeling that perhaps he would see that I am taking life seriously and being successful. Back fire. He moved away too. And we never saw each other again. And then one sunny May morning, I was heading to the chapel for daily Mass, and my office phone rang, and it was Elizabeth, and she told me that the night before, Brian had died. He had hung himself in his apartment and the girl he had been dating found him. You see, I had talked to him, and invited him to my house in Mississippi, and a few people were going to come and see me, but he cancelled at the last minute, because he was going to go to this girls birthday party, because he had broken up with her, and he wanted to somehow remain friends with her. She had a small child and I think that Brian felt more about the child than her. I really wish he would have come to see me that weekend. But he didn’t. And so that is how Brian left me forever. Before his death, I would have this idea in the back of my mind that something would happen and we would get together, that it would be this great love story. I never dream that would have ended with this. I lived years thinking that he was the one and when the time was right, God would get us together. There was this moment, he and I were in church. And at the sign of the peace, I turned to say “Peace Be with you” to him, extending out my hand. And this little old lady was behind us, and she said to us, oh just kiss him, or something like that. And I was shocked and we looked at each other in disbelief. But then I looked back behind us, and she was no longer there. Did I talk about it? NO. What the hell was wrong with me back then. And so he died. And he was gone and I no longer had my dream. What was I suppose to do? Ah, enter Ismael, this interesting Latin American who was madly in love with me, right when he met me, it was easy. And all I would have to do is not ask myself if I loved him. Just take it for what it is. And so I find myself in this relationship, confused as to what relationships should be all about and most importantly where was God in all this? One day a campus minister, the next day moving to Atlanta, the next pregnant, and then 1 year later, I came back to my senses as a single mother. Moving back to New York with my precious little boy. On our own. Does Brian know his connection with my son? Every moment of our lives are connected, not one moment is out of place. I still miss Brian, and I so wish that he was alive, even if I was just spending time in that dream of us one day being together, because after his death I couldn’t even dream of that. The possibility is gone.
I remember him, I will always remember him, like I saw him tomorrow. I just wish, that I would have told him how much I loved him, even if he would have rejected me. Now, I will never know.
Brian, if you are listening, you will always live in my heart. I remember you.

A Weekend Away

This weekend my son and I drove to Lake Placid to spend a weekend away; a celebration, if you will, to the unofficial arrival of summer. With the added bonus of getting in on the “Elevate Your Rate” promotion at the High Peaks Resort, even this single mom was able to do something special for the Memorial Day Weekend. (The hotel is great and we especially love the bathroom! Isn’t it funny that bathrooms have become so important in our lives; we all want to feel like we are in a spa!)
The weather has been cooperating, as it has not rained for more than a few minutes now and then, but the sun has been scarce, though it has tried to peak through a few times. Nonetheless, we have been able to add to our collection of memories, and pictures to be scrapbooked at a later date. Yesterday, we took out the boats that they have here at the resort, what a liberating feeling as I have not been on a paddle boat since I was about 14. Losing all that weight continues to be a benefit and getting back to the business of life is incredible. Of course, for a 9 year old boy, a paddle boat doesn’t seem to go fast enough but, hey, I was peddling as fast as I could. It took us a few minutes to get the hang of steering it, we did our share of circles but we finally got the hang of it, and traveled around the lake. After the paddleboat, we took out the row boat, which went much faster. It was in there in the row boat that I had my moment. Noah wanted to row the boat, and so I was telling him how to do it. Again, we seem to have difficulty with the teaching / learning relationship. He always tells me ‘I know how to do it Mom.” (Spoken in a very frustrating way.) The more he resists being taught, the more I feel I need to teach, now not just about rowing the boat, but how to gracefully accept direction, about perseverance, about hard work, etc. It gets very big, until the moment happens, that my usually sweet (prior to hitting 9) boy says to me, “Mom, I am doing it and you just keep yapping at me.” Yapping? Yapping? YAPPING? Since when does my son tell me that I am “yapping” at him? I wasn’t “yapping”, I was teaching! I was directing…isn’t that my job??? It took me most of the day, with this word “yapping” in my head to realize that … I was just yapping. Did anyone “teach” me to row a boat, or did I just get out there and “figure it out”. Since my son and I are always together, and I am a little bit of a nervous mother, thinking that something is going to happen to him if I let him go alone, his changes of figuring things out on his own are slim. And being that I love him more than life itself, I am quick to explain to him how I think he should do things, what I think should be important to him, etc. When I realized that I should just allow much more “figuring it out” experiences. With all my great intentions, all I am doing is leaving him with a feeling that he isn’t good enough and robbing him from moments of pride that he did it on my own. My job, now that he is 9, is to sit back and let him do more and more, until he becomes the independent man that God intended him to be. I have a feeling that this will be harder on me than on him! Ah, yet another stage of life.
Its early morning here in Lake Place, another overcast day seems to be what we will get. All is quiet and moments of reflection are a blessing. I thank God today for the blessings that we have, especially these moments away from our regular routine. But later today, we head back to Grandma and Snoopy, whom we have missed with a renewed spirit to carry on.

The 1 Billionth Poem about Spring

Can anyone say anything new about spring?
Have all the adjectives been used?
Isn’t it funny that Spring gives us an added bounce in our step
And that you feel this spring is so different than last, but
Really you can’t remember the last spring, at least not in detail.
Was it this warm, was it this cool, was the winter long, or did it feel shorter than most?

When I was a teenager, spring brought the thought of an exciting summer,
I just knew that THIS summer something awesome was going to happen
I will turn 46 this summer, and I am still waiting.
Is it that it is never awesome enough? Why am I still waiting?
What was I waiting for?
Oh, yes, the thought of first love;
Someone was going to actually love ME.

I am still waiting. . . not for 1st love, but for true love.

Spring brings the thought of new life, of a personal Easter, a resurrection.
I have spent months feeling dead, on hold, hibernating, again waiting…
Waiting for spring…

I tell my son to get his shoes. . .
I wait. . .

In a small room while my mother has tests to see if the cancer is gone …
I wait. . .

At work, I am spending my time doing something that I have no passion for, watching the clock…
I wait . . .

If I were to put all the minutes of waiting together, how many hours would go by,
How many days?
How many weeks?
How many years?

How could 46 years have gone by already? Where did it go?
What was I waiting for?
No matter how many people were around me I spent my time waiting…
I so wish I had a deep answer to this question.
I so wish that I could say that today I stop waiting, but I don’t if I will do that

Wasn’t this poem about Spring?
Nothing outside is waiting, leaves are blooming and turning green, not waiting for me to be ready.
Birds are singing a sweet spring song, happy to be free again.
All life is moving forward
The clock is not waiting
It will forge ahead in silent rhythm, until I find myself in winter again.

No! I will not go back without seeing today
Without truly feeling the sun on my face,
Without smelling the sweet smell of freshly cut grass
Without having a picnic on the shores of a beautiful lake
Without taking a trek in the woods
Without really seeing those I love, and letting them know I love them.
Spring…
I promise to know you before you leave.

"Wouldn't it be great if God gave us super powers?"

Yesterday, my son asked me an interesting question. He said, "Mom, wouldn't it be great if God would have given us super powers?" And so I asked him what super power he would have like to have gotten. And he answered me "A laser ray that shoots out of my hand and brings me objects that are far away." I thought that his choice was interesting, especially if one could pick out any super powers, like reading someone's mind, flying, etc. Then I asked him, "Do you think that God thinks that he might HAVE given you super powers?" He gave me a very strange look and then said, "Yeah he gave me a brain". I thought very good conclusion for a 9 year old.

This made me begin to wonder, about all the things that God blesses us with and His intention for their use. I don't know about you, but as I started thinking about this I realized just how little of the gifts I have been given are used for thier intended purpose. And so I asked myself to begin thinking why this is. Why do I allow wonderful things in my life not to be used. In many of the instances it was all about fear. What if I don't really know how to use it? What if someone thinks I am silly if I use it? What if I fail? What if it is going to require more energy and thought than I think, then I am stuck with a big project in front of me. The unknown is scarey, why don't I just get busy with accepting and loving the life at hand?!? Isn't this what I am suppose to do? Ah, I don't think so.

The greatest thing that God gave me was a restless spirit. Something inside of me always tells me that life could be better. Don't get me wrong, what I have is pretty good. But couldn't the world be better, couldn't I be more tomorrow than I am today. And then I read the quote that I have on the heading of this blog...to plant a tree that I don't expect to sit under, because I am off to the next adventure! Fear, fear, fear. How would it feel like to have the super power of being courageous. Courage to tackle what seems the impossible, courage to see life in a way that has millions of possiblities not limits. This is the one thing that is great about kids, they think that everything is possible. And as they grow, how many times do we say in some version, "Oh honey, that is not possible." Shame on us. As adults, I think that we think we have to live realistically, but as you read the papers, the people that are most successful are dreamers, those who believe that something different is possible. People who do not get easily discouraged because someone tells them, "That just isn't possible. "

I for one am making the decision today to believe that God has given me all that I need to make changes, not only in my life but in the world. That with God, all things are possible. Each day I will tackle the fears, and see them for what they really are, chains that bound me to life that is not always fulfilling. It is good to be discontent, it makes us move. And so for those of us who may have one time thought that discontentment is a bad thing, today I thank God for it . . . and will move in a different direction.