Day 3.. April 30, 2006

April 30^th, 2006

Part 3

I woke up at around 3AM and began to stress about the reality we were all living in.  I remember getting dressed and going to the lobby of the hotel and calling a friend of mine.  I was a young person.  I never thought that I would be in this situation.

I knew in a few hours; Chris would be home.  My family would all be in the same time zone.  We would all be together.  I loved to see Chris always.  I was stressed today though. 

Most people who know me, know that I have a decent sense of direction.  That is unless I am in a hospital.  I continually get lost.  I learn one way to get to the place I need to be, and I will not stray from that path.  If I do, I end up in random places.   One time in Shadyside hospital when my mom was there I ended up in the surgical elevator.  The doors opened and everyone was in scrubs looking at me.  In this hospital, I knew one way to get to where I needed to go and I knew how to get to the cafeteria.

I walked to the hospital from the hotel and took my mother in law’s post to the right of Bruce.  I looked at him.  I was looking at a very strong man looking frail and motionless.  I noticed that his right thumb was twitching.  I noticed it the day prior, but now it was a constant, vigorous movement.  An uncontrolled reflex that couldn’t be stopped.  It was unsettling to me.

The exact time that Chris was picked up and got to the hospital, I don’t recall other than it was early.  Donivan, his cousin picked him up.  I’m sure that Donivan talked about the reality of how Bruce was.  I’m sure that Chris tried to prepare himself.  There is no preparation though.  The reality was harsh.  Chris was going to be smacked in the face with it.

I wrote a blog once and mentioned briefly this hospital trip.  In the blog I wrote about specific minutes that are forever etched in my mind with my kids.  This was the moment with Chris.  I will never, never forget looking into the all glass room when Chris walked in.  It was a devastation.  It was me witnessing a heart breaking.  Terribly sad.

This was Sunday.  When Ron, Chris and I met with the team of doctors, they were clear that we needed to start developing a plan.  We needed to prepare ourselves for the inevitable future.  They said that Bruce would be going through testing later in the morning.  The testing was going to give us the reality of Bruce’s brain activity.    When we returned to the waiting room, Chris was the guy who spoke up and announced to everyone what the conversation was.  

You see he was admitted with a 99% blockage which resulted in a heart attack.  By the time he was resuscitated and stabilized minutes went by.  Factually there were enough minutes to cause brain damage.  The only question was to what extent.  How many minutes? 

There were only a few times I remember see Bruce’s mom out of the CCU room.  This was one of them.  In no time at all, the doctors came in and said that Bruce lacked brain activity.  We sat and talked about the options.  Option 1. Take him off of life support.  Option 2.  Put him in a nursing facility and keep him alive via life support. Neither of them optimistic for a future.

I remember looking at Bruce’s mom and thinking that this had to be killing her.  At one of her “chat sessions” with Bruce, she told him that he was the “most handsome” of her sons.  Ron, another of her sons, was in the room and thanked her for saying that in front of him.  I don’t think she apologized. 

After the meeting with the doctors.  Chris, again spoke up and said that his dad would never want on life support.  He also said that his dad wanted to be cremated.  Bruce would have never wanted people looking at him in a casket.  He was very right in both cases.

The day dragged.  How could it not?  People came in and out.  Chris’ friend Paige stopped by and brought Chris some things that he needed.  People brought drinks in.  We took turns going to the cafeteria, and eating.  It almost started to feel normal on some level.   

I want to add though that Bruce’s sister was having some serious health issues.  She in fact was going to be admitted to another Pittsburgh hospital the next day.  At some point of this day, she stopped as she was going into Bruce’s room and told me that this moment took her back in time to one of the times her own dad was in the hospital.  She was referring to looking at Megan standing beside Bruce’s bed.

I mentioned that Bruce and I both have bigger families.  There were many nieces and nephews.  At any point there were a dozen or two people with us.  That opened the way for many stories about Bruce.  He was the rowdy, baby of the family.  There were many stories that we had never heard about Bruce.  At one point my brother-in- law said that Bruce Parke was a guy who you could love one second and the next second, you wanted to kill him.  He was right.

As the evening went on I found my kids, a couple of Bruce’s nieces and nephews and a couple of bottles of wine in the waiting room. We sipped on the wine. We talked. This was one of the few times that we shared the waiting room with anyone.  As it turned out, it was a family of someone who worked with Bruce for years.  They recognized some of the stories and shared some of their own.  Everyone always still can come up with “Bruce-lore”.  I’m sure through the years the stories have gotten exaggerated a bit. 

We left the hospital after midnight to go back to our room at the hotel down the street. 

I should mention that this weekend was also the weekend of the University of Pittsburgh’s graduation.  The city was hopping.

April 28 to April 29, 2006

Bruce was airlifted to Pittsburgh and had surgery to correct a 99% blockage in his carotid artery.  He was stabilized and moved to a room in the CCU.  He was settled into his room by the morning of 4/28.

Soon, Bruce’s mother and sister and nieces and nephews started coming in.  Every one of them was quickly slapped in the face with the new reality.  His brothers had to travel to get home.  Bruce was comfortably asleep in the CCU.  Bruce was on life support.  He had a breathing tube.  Every sort of monitor was attached to him.

If anyone reading this has never has seen someone in this situation, only one word can describe it.  SAD.  It is simply sad.  I was sad for Bruce.  I was sad for me.  I was sad for Bruce.  I was sad for his mom.  I was sad for his siblings.  Mostly though, I was sad for our kids.  It was all around unbelievably sad.

There was nothing to do except to sit and wait and look and hope.  I will say that both Bruce and I have multiple siblings and I think somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 nieces and nephews, along with, at that point, a half of dozen great nieces and nephews.  This was now Saturday.  As many of our friends heard, they too were trickling in.

At some point, I remember looking around the community waiting room and realizing that the room was overflowing with people who cared about our family.  The other families of patients in similar situations were in an extension of the waiting room.
The plan?  Unknown.  My biggest heartache?  Still waiting to get Chris there.  He was, at this point, taking flights from LA to Pittsburgh.  He was to arrive early Sunday morning.  His cousin Donivan was picking him up at the airport.  Chris was, as far as I recall, unaware of the absolute situation.

I need to interject that my 3 kids were 26,24, and 21.  They have always had an unbelievable support group.  They were fortunate in their lives not only to have numerous cousins that they grew up with, but also an extended family.  By now friends were scattered around the country.

Because we were in the hospital and Chris was on an airplane as the news of Bruce was spreading, the access to us was difficult at times.   One of their friends said that if I would update him, he would manage the many concerned friends to keep everyone posted.

Bruce was in the CCU.  It was hard to see Greg and Meg’s heart being slowly broken.  It was even more difficult to see his mom’s heart being crushed.  She sat to the right side of him.  She talked to him.  She sang to him.  She tried to play peek-a-boo with him.
She had lost her first husband from cancer several years earlier.  She had lost her 3rd oldest grandson in the 80’s to a drunk driver.  Unfortunately, she knew the pain.  Unfortunately, we were all feeling the pain.  Sadly, nothing could change the reality of the situation that was unfolding.

Obviously, the doctors and nurses were doing anything they could for Bruce and quite honestly for us.

By Saturday afternoon,  which was 4/29th, Bruce’s 3 brothers were home.  Two of them lived out of the state.

Here’s something that I struggled with.  Bruce and I were separated.  I was legally responsible for him.  I, first of all, knew that I was not really responsible for decisions.  The family as a whole was.  Whenever a doctor was in or requested a meeting I always had one of his brother’s with me and one of our kids with me.

There mostly was nothing more to do than sit and wait. We would go to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat.  Bruce’s mom just sat in her seat looking at her baby. The kids and I weren’t leaving other than to get a shower and a couple of hours of sleep at a hotel down the street from the hotel.

The Parke family are somewhat a comical group of people.  Because this was the week of the professional football draft, occasionally someone would turn on the television in the room.  At some point, Bruce’s mom would see that the television was turned on and ask why.  Ron, Bruce’s brother would look at his mom and tell her that Bruce wanted to see it.  There would be a quick chuckle, then back to the vigilant watch for some indication of life.

That pretty much sums up April 28th and 29th, 2006.

Life can change in a second.

 

Life can change in a second.  Life does change in a second.  There is really nothing anyone can do about it.  Regardless of how much you like where you are or dislike where you are, life cannot stand still. 

April 28, 2006 

Many of you who know me realized how fast my life, as I knew it changed on April 28, 2006.  I was 45. 

I was married, but separated.  Although, my husband, Bruce and I seemed to get along much better than we had when we lived together.  We talked every day.  We saw each other most days.  Finally, we weren’t stressing each other out.  I say that it was because we stopped expecting things of one another. 

On Thursday, the 27^th, Bruce needed to be in Latrobe (our hometown).  My son had an appointment and Bruce needed to go with him.  The appointment happened.  After that Bruce went to golf with a friend.  Then they went and ate.  Hot sausage, stuffed banana peppers in marinara, and wings was the menu.  After a late lunch Bruce came to the house.  He said that he needed to be in Virginia on Friday morning, but he was tired and planned on napping, getting up around midnight to go to VA. 

He was upstairs napping and I went up.  He asked if there was anything in the house for heartburn.  I remember asking him if I could take him to the ER because he looked horrible.  He simply said that he was tired from working 4 days in 3.  He said that he had heartburn because of his lunch choice. Instead, I ran to the drug store and got him antacids.

The evening carried on in its normal routine.  Bruce asked to make sure he was awake by midnight.  Midnight turned into about 12:45. He got up, got a shower and dressed.  He asked Meg (our daughter) if her sinuses had been bothering her.  He said his allergies were starting to flare up. 

He needed a ride about 3 miles from our house.  Typically, I would have suggested that Meg drive him to his car since she was awake.  Oddly, I didn’t.  I got up and went to the car.  I started to get in the passenger seat, then decided that it made more sense for me to drive, instead of changing seats in the next few minutes.

We were driving down the highway about 2 miles from home.  Things changed immediately and forever.

Bruce screamed and hit me.  I looked over at him and knew that I was in a race for time to the nearest hospital.  The entire day of him having heartburn, looking tired, and finally feeling as though he was starting to have allergy issues made perfect sense.  Heart attack.   I drove fast.  I drove really fast. 

I didn’t have my cell phone with me.  I arrived at the hospital.  They took him out of the car.  Someone was immediately on the gurney doing heart compressions.  I parked the car and went in to give insurance intake and wait. 

All I could think of was that I was going to telling 2 out of 3 of our kids in the next few minutes that their dad died.  The same person who was just alive 15 minutes earlier.  Wow.  I called Meg and told her that she and Greg had to come to the hospital.  I immediately called a friend of mine and told her that she and her husband had to beat Greg and Meg to the hospital.  In my mind, I remember vividly thinking, Chuck and Sandy will help me. 

  Before anyone got there the doctor came and escorted me into a small room.  He told me that Bruce had a heart attack and he was able to be revived.  He was stable, but needed to be taken to another hospital for surgery. 

I walked out to see the kids walking into the ER with Chuck and Sandy beside them.  I explained the situation.  The kids were walking in to see Bruce as they were preparing him for his life flight to another hospital. 

Now, we had to call Chris.  Imagine having to call your’ son across the country and tell him what is going on.  Imagine having to call brothers and sisters and telling them that their baby brother is being flown to Pittsburgh for emergency surgery.  Those calls were all made.

I was determined though with Chris that he was only told that his dad had a heart attack, survived but was going into surgery.  He needed to come home. 

I was thinking about the power of words.  A simple grouping of letters that create a powerful word.  When you think about it toddlers and preschoolers learn to recite the alphabet.  What they are really doing is becoming empowered through words. 

The first letter grouping I thought of was…..C.H.A.N.G.E.    Five tiny little letters that creates such a huge word. 

I am not going to personalize the power of CHANGE.  I am not going to explain effects MY personal life.  All I will say is that CHANGE like time is always evolving.  It is always around us.  It is always causing us to react.

What do you think about with the word CHANGE? 

Please start a discussion.  What is change?

The Queen is 90.

I am choosing to talk about the Queen of England being 90. 

This morning I was watching some of her family looking at old home movies of her.  The thing that impressed me the most wasn’t that she once was a vibrant young person shouldering the weight of an entire country on her shoulders.  Rather it was her ability to maintain family values for the most part.  I do realize that there were a few moments of an unruly Prince here and there. 

Think about it though.  I’m sure that she had nannies and servant to do everything for her kids.  I’m relatively certain that she never had to figure out how to sort colors and whites on laundry day.  I’m sure that her life has been very blessed and organized for her.  I doubt she has rarely if ever stirred a pot on her stove.  I do believe though, that her husband can and does barbeque and cook. 

Here’s my opinion.  She hasn’t been recognized for her housewife capabilities.   She continues to ride horses and hunts.  She continues to have a full physical life at 90.  This impresses me.  I do understand that she clearly has longevity in her genetic gene pool.  The queen mum was over 100 when she died.

There was an interview with William and Harry talking about how their grandmother’s role changed after their mother died.  I found it oddly refreshing that she seemed to have taken over the role of mother for them.  They both said that while there was a known level of animosity between Dianna and many of her royal in-laws, the queen spent a great deal of time working with them to embrace their mother’s charities. 

Both of the boys said that while she was a very strong-willed person and would “invite” them to see her when they knew that they were going to be crucified for their actions.  The conversation always ended on a positive note, normally inviting them to spend more time with her.  She did this with all of her grandchildren. 

I guess, once again, I am intrigued with the value of an extended family.  Regardless of whether we are royalty or “commoners”.  Family is critical to build a happy and productive next generation.  Whether we are raising our kids to be a future generation of King and whatever title Harry has, or whether we are raising our kids to be productive contributors to our society, we need fundamental tools.  An excess of generations to nurture and strengthen and love our kids is always a bonus. 

I have known many 90+ year old people and have probably taken the longevity of their life and the wisdom that they developed through the years for granted.  Hopefully, some of their life lessons sunk in.  Hopefully, I will be able to share these things with younger ones.  

I guess the point of this blog is that we all need to learn to put our own opinions aside.  It is far more critical and valuable to share our time and knowledge with others than it is to share our opinions.  My grandmother Onega used to say, “Opinions are like butts, (although her term was far more colorful) everybody has one.”  That was just another wise saying that she had.

Do the people reading this share my thoughts?  Please share opinions, I know that you all have one…

blogging

Blogging

I am thoroughly enjoying writing a blog.  I’ve taken a few days off because per fellow bloggers, it is recommended not to write every day.  I am very new at this and still trying to work my way to a good following and good information, along with a good flow.  I should also include a good venue. 

What do I bring to the table?   I have considered myself to be full of useless information and common sense.  I am certainly trying to give a glimpse into my life, my family, and tangents that I think I have something to say about, in a way that isn’t boring or self-glorifying.  That is never an interest. 

As I have mentioned in past blogs, I was very fortunate to have a multiple generations accessible to me throughout my life.  Sadly, my mom died a year and a few months ago.  My dad is alive and well.  My step mother is as well.  Having multiple generations has allowed me to see life as we age.  It has given me the realization as to how fast time goes and how we have to take care of each other.  There is no guarantee in life. 

I want this blog to be useful.  I want this blog to be successful.  This blog is meant for helping, enjoying, seeing a different perspective and allowing all of us, including me to benefit in some way. 

When I post a blog, I am always hoping for comments.  I suspect that this is not happening at times if you are commenting and don’t have a GMAIL account.  That is one reason we are researching better site options. 

Please feel free to chat with me.  Feel free to critique my blogs, share opinions and start conversations.  Regardless whether you post on my Facebook page, or my unofficial blog Facebook page or on the blog itself, please chime in.  The more conversations that are started, the more topics that we will pursue.   

Thanks so much…

Criticizing Others Parenting

Criticizing others parenting skills.

On TV this morning there was a segment on a talk show about criticizing others parenting skills.  Here’s my question………WHY?

Having said that, I suspect that my mouth flows with unsolicited parenting “wisdom”.  Normally, I don’t have a problem finding things to say. 

I do remember and try to use a counseling tool I learned a lifetime ago.  That is, if you are going to say something negative you should sandwich it between two positives.  I do though try to keep my tongue bridled. 

My mom's dad, grand pap Gettemy,  used to hear a baby or toddler in a store and go collect them and entertain them while their mom's would get the shopping done.  It wasn't unusual at all to see him walking a baby through stores.  He never knew their names.  Oddly, people just trusted him.  Imagine him doing that in today's world.

When I see a child challenging parents in a restaurant, let’s say, I try to distract the child.  Give them something to look at long enough for their parents to regroup.  It is never done with any intentions of me trying to be superior to them. 

If I am on a plane, I have offered many people my tablet or ipad to allow the kids to play games or watch a show or movie that are all stored on them already. 

As I see it, anyone of us who have had kids in public have more than likely have felt the pain of assuming people are talking negatively and critiquing our parenting skills, or lack thereof.  After you are out of the kid tantrum phase of life, it’s quickly forgotten that we were once in their shoes.

On the program that I was watching, a woman was interviewed.  A delivery person came to her house and she was still in her pj’s.  She opted not to answer the door.  The delivery person was afraid there was a problem since he could hear children in the house.  By the time the woman walked to the front of the house, policemen were there.  She was somewhat taken back by that. 

In that scenario, I don’t know what I would do.  I suspect though, that I would have waited a few minutes in my vehicle, then return in 15 minutes or so, assuming mom was in the shower or basement and didn’t hear the bell.  Bad things do happen to people, so I think I may have been grateful to the delivery man for having my kids’ safety in mind. 

Not long ago, I was at a playground with my daughter, Megan and her gals.  There was a little boy playing, as well as other set of adults and a little boy.  After they left it was just us and the little boy.  I asked him if he was there alone.  He said that his dad was at the pet park up a hill from where we were.  Because it was getting dark, we had him walk up to where his dad was.  Was that me overstepping his father?  He may have thought so.  I viewed it as me keeping the child safe. 

All in all, I do think that we live in a mean world.  We live in a world that technology is at our fingertips.  As parents, we are under a microscope.  Our every move is looked at.  We can’t smack kids.  We can’t touch our kids.  It would be easy to parent IF our kids all responded to us as well as kids do after a week with “Jo, the English nanny”.  They don’t. 

I don’t think that it is honestly anyone’s opinion what age your kid gets an ipad, cell phone or for that matter, when they are potty trained, taken off the bottle or anything.  Random people only get a say IF and WHEN they are asked to financially contribute.   How is that for a rule of thumb?

Crit

Wisdom.

Wisdom is defined as the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise.

synonyms: sagacity · intelligence · sense · common sense

My friend, Amy, and I were talking about wisdom.  What makes a person wise?  Is wisdom a common trait among older people?  Are young people allowed to be wise? 

I used to tease my kids and tell them that I was wise, therefore, they should listen to me.  It worked for a bit, but then they got “wise” and the novelty wore off.  Now and then, they ask me for advice.  I try NOT to be the mom and mother – in – law that is pushy and offers advice unwanted. 

When my kids had their own kids, I was not the mom (I don’t think at least) that told them how to do things.  My logic on this was very deliberate.   My son had the first baby so I assumed the role of encouraging all questions be directed to my daughter in laws mother.  I assumed that the mother/daughter bond was going to be stronger and I wasn’t going to be caught up in a spat of…. “my mom said”. 

When my daughter had a baby, her mother in law is a neonatal nurse.  Obviously the better choice for advice.

Please don’t read into this as I knew that there would be issues.  That certainly wasn’t in my thought process.  I just saw it as life with a new born, especially your first can be a challenge.  There is not one right way to do things with babies, and a new mom is going to ask for advice, as is a new dad.  There really is no need to add stress with conflicting ways to bathe a baby or swaddle a newborn.  I chose to step back and be secondary in the baby advice department.

With that said, I am somewhat of a fixer.  I tend to automatically go from hearing a situation that needs fixed to saying, “here’s what we need to do”.   So I suspect that advice spouted out of my mouth without me even realizing it.

I look more at things as being logical.  When I think of a person with wisdom, I immediately think of Grandma Onega.  She was a wise, wise woman.  She had a nature about her that exuded wisdom.  She was super smart.  She had common sense.  She had intuition.  She would engage with everyone and anyone.  I am sure that I could never be as wise as she was. 

Please share your thoughts.  Are all smart people with common sense and logic wise?  Is wisdom an inherited trait?  Is wisdom even still a thing?  Or is wisdom simply eluded by people just confident enough to talk in a way that "sells" themselves ?

Lily.... Seems like she was a baby not that long ago....

Lily is my oldest grandchild.  She is an amazing little girl.  I remember the lullaby that played in the halls of the hospital to share with the everyone that a baby was born.  I remember walking into the room at 11 PM and looking in the basinet at the first baby gal who made me a grandparent.  She was a perfect baby.  It seems that we were all holding her as a newborn the other day. That’s how fast I think time has gone.  She is truly the sweetest child I have ever encountered.  She’s such a caring gal.  She is six.  I’m not sure how that happened. 

Lily has her routine at our house.  She comes in and immediately finds Timpa and crawls up on his lap and reviews her life.  She tells him about anything she feels is important.  It is a sweet bond that I hope never goes away.  It’s I think important for both of them. 

I am Lily’s craft buddy.  Since she was one, I would find some kind of crafts to do with her.  She has painted many bird houses and boxes to store keys in.  We have made candles out of flaked wax.  We also cook together.  She is a pro at making hotdogs wrapped in crescent roll dough. 

Truthfully, when I see her now that she is in kindergarten, I realize how quickly she is growing up.  Just as my own kids did.  She’s riding a bike.  She has lost 2 baby teeth.  It’s crazy.

When we are in the car we play the food game.  Essentially we will choose a food, say the color and what group of food it is in.  We take turns asking questions until one of us guesses the food.  Not long ago she was talking to Timpa about a book.  We stopped and got it.  I was more than impressed at her reading skills.  The book that she wanted was not a child’s starter book.

Lily is clearly an English brained gal.  She has a vocabulary far beyond her age.  Often she will ask what the “definition of a word is, then you will hear her incorporate it later.  When she eats she likes to spell words.  She’s reasonably hard to trip up.

In my eyes, I think I am developing a bond similar to what I had with my grandmother.  I want to be her biggest cheerleader.   I want her to always know that she is important to both Tim and me. 

When my own kids grew up I used to say that I would give anything to hold them on my lap as small children just once more.  With Lily, she still does sit on my lap.  We discuss nothing specific. 

Once more I am able to understand the importance of unconditional love.  I am able to cherish the hug of a little Lily. 

No one criticize me for zeroing in on Lily.  I have three more grandbabies and I adore and cherish each of them.  Lily though, is quickly evolving our relationship into a relationship of a child, not a toddler or baby.  I’m on some level, again finding myself watch a childhood fly by, but no one can freeze it in time. So I am trying to absorb the special moments.

Weekend



It's a cold Saturday morning in western PA.  It's a good day to snuggle in and recharge...


That's my day.

Enjoy your' day.

Theda

Chaos

Chaos

My brain is chaotic today.  I’m not sure why.  Because of it this blog just might be all over the place.  This chaos day isn’t necessarily good nor bad.  It’s just a lot of thoughts, old and new in my brain rattling around.  Perhaps I am just over thinking my day.

External chaos is a bit of an art to perfect.  When my kids were young and there were friends and cousins in and out daily, I think I had external chaos perfected.  It never annoyed me to have 10 people in and out of my house.  I tried to enjoy every minute realizing that my kids were going to grow up and leave and my house would be empty.  Unfortunately, that happened. 

Now I have 4 grandchildren to come in and out of my house.  Regardless, it’s never going to be the same as it was with my kids.  I was fortunate to have liked their friends.  I was fortunate to be close to nieces and nephews.  I am still extremely fortunate to have some of my kids friends still in contact with me.  I consider many of them my “kids”.

External chaos in my house is long gone.  I miss it every day.  I miss hearing about my kids’ days.  I miss cooking for everyone. 

Chaos does occur in my brain occasionally.  I am not aware of any trigger really.   These are days that I reminisce and remember fun times.  I think about what issues people I care about are having.  I try to put random things into perspective My brain jumps from thought to thought with no rhyme or reason.  

I learned many years back through therapy to write these thoughts down.  This is supposed to allow me to move on from them for the moment and revisit them.  I suppose this technique works for the most part.  It allows me to put them on the proverbial shelf. 

I am a natural “fixer” and on some level, realize that I can’t fix everything for everyone.  Nor can I have my kids as teens again.  When my kids were babies that was my favorite stage in their lives.  When they were school age, that was my favorite, then teens.  I guess the reality is that I loved my kids every step of the way. 

I guess for now with my kids, extra kids, and nieces and nephews, I will greet them with open arms and treasure their every stage of life.  With the chaotic thoughts, I will continue to write them down and take time to put them into perspective. 

Forgiveness

Forgiveness.

Why is forgiveness of one’s self so much more difficult than forgiving others?  Is it because we know our own hearts and our own failures?  Is it because we would have to change our actions in order to forgive ourselves?  I suppose all are true.

Here’s what I have seen.  I mentioned the other day that I watch reality television.  There is a common theme among a lot of them.  That theme is that there is always a history of some form of trauma.  Whether it as a death, a rape, abuse, whatever; it seems that some people can ease through it and put it into a perspective and others are not. Obviously this is because we are all different. 

Even with siblings, things are processed differently.  I know that with my own siblings, we all went through many of the same traumas, we all have a separate take from the same events.  Some of us are more emotional than others.  We each have our own protections from issues.

However, you handle trauma, as long as you handle it in a healthy way.  I don’t think it matters.  When you get “stuck” in a way that hurts you, then you have to get fixed.  You aren’t handling issues; you are hiding behind issues.  When you hide, they never get put into any perspective.

I remember years ago, hearing an illustration of two families who were friends.  One of the father’s accidentally ran over the other family’s dog.   The dad who hit the dog, went in and told the other father what had happened.  They buried the dog together in the back yard.   All seemed to have been forgiven.  The problem is that every time The two families got together, the dad (who ran the dog over) would go to the corner of the yard and dig up the dead dog and discuss the whole event again. Clearly self-forgiveness hadn’t happened.

Regardless of what your past has handed you, it is the past.  There is a saying, the past makes the future.  It does to the degree you allow it to.  You have to own the past; you have to live in the present.  Not the past. 

You have to put things into perspective.  If you know me, you know that I say that often.  Forgiving yourself is a huge part of that.  Sadly, if you are not able to forgive yourself you will carry baggage.  You will almost always find yourself digging out in some way down the road.  Sadness, addiction, gluttony, hoarding, and hiding will not serve you well in the future.  My advice, sit down, breathe, write yourself a note or burn an old picture or something to allow you to forgive yourself.

You don’t want to find yourself on my television as a hoarder, with someone who cares about you walking through your hoard (I’m not sure how these people on Hoarders have kids and relatives who say they haven’t been in the house for extended periods of time) or having an intervention. 

Forgiving yourself is hard, but truly is a liberating and the best thing you can do for yourself.

Old Shoes

Old Shoes

We all have that old pair of shoes that we always return to.   The slightly worn comfortable shoes.  We keep them as long as possible.  Much longer than we should.  My husband Tim, still has a pair of work boots from high school days. 

Here is my thought.  Why do we keep our old comfortable shoes, maybe change out the laces, maybe even get them resoled yet our relationships seem to be disposable? 

I know people who have dated, gotten married and within a short period of time, are signing divorce papers.  Why is that?  What are reasonable viewpoints of marriage?  Most importantly why aren’t relationships precious to us?

I personally don’t get it.  How can you date and be in a relationship, yet apparently, don’t know who you are in a relationship with?  Is it that or is it that people don’t understand the definition of marriage?  My personal belief is we live in such a disposable world.  If you don’t want something, something else is easily available.    

I am not saying that you should stay in a bad marriage or relationship.  What I am saying is that sometimes you have to work hard to succeed.  Marriage, relationships and feelings are all real.  Our decisions impact people.  They impact ourselves. 

Relationships should not be disposable.  We need to invest time and energy, patience, forgiveness, and we need to remember neither person is without faults.  Don’t invest all of your time pointing out what is wrong with everyone else and assume you teetering on perfection.  If that is what you think, I will help…. You aren’t perfect either.

Factually, I think there is great joy in having the comfort of a relationship. 

Realize the importance of a relationship.  Realize that it is always a changing pulse.  Sometime you will carry the load, at times your sidekick will.  Marriage and relationships require give and take every day, maybe even every hour. 

When I had babies, if they were on the potty and didn’t do anything, that they would never go.  I continued to work and try through encouragement until it was a success.  Why on earth do people give up on relationship’s? 

I guess to end, I will say, let’s remember the comfort of the old shoes and realize and cherish the relationships you have. 

Mom Part 3

More Mom…

Mom part 3

I have given a brief story of my mom’s health issues that occurred over a few years.  The last thing I wrote was to say that we finally got into a routine. 

I am not going to say that having my mom with me was always easy.  It was challenging at times.  I am happy that I did it.  In many posts I have mentioned my mom and I think that I made it clear that her life wasn’t always easy.  I am beyond happy that I was able to have my mom here.  The minute that she was taken from the nursing home, her life improved.

My mom lived with us for a few years.  She did stuff around the house.  She was the laundry folder and dishwasher loader and emptier.  She would enjoy my kids and grandkids.  We would have parties to encourage her other kids and their families to visit.  The first thing I did in the morning was to unlock the door.  The last thing I would do was lock the door.  Everyone knew our garage codes.  My mom’s friends and family were always welcome.

My mom was a very passive person.  She would do jigsaw puzzles constantly.  There was a card table in our family room as a permanent fixture.  In the prime of my mom’s life she could easy do a 500-piece puzzle in a day.  After her stroke, she slowed down a bit.   After she completed her puzzles though, she would view it as a good solid work day.  She’d say, “Well, I got that one done!”  Then she would put it back in the box and move onto the next. 

I think that she was happy with us.  I actually only have one regret with her here.  I could have and should have taken her to my daughter’s wedding.  She was married in the Bahamas and we had a house that had a room and bathroom that would have worked well for her.  Unfortunately, I was selfish and didn’t take her.  I do realize though that she could not have made the trip.  It would have simply been too much for her.  She didn’t have the stamina for it.  We did have a reception at our house after the wedding.  My mom thoroughly enjoyed it.

It would have been a huge process to take her.  She was in a wheel chair.  The flight would have been hard on all of us.  Transportation while we were there would have been complicated.  I would have had to invest a lot of my time into caring for her.  I should have done it though.  She would have loved it.  I was just a little too selfish.  The reality is that it would have been far too difficult and grueling for her. 

The nice thing about my mom being here is that she had activities and a purpose.  We were her family.  Despite the rough things, which I won’t discuss, it was the absolute right thing to do.

Please share your thoughts about aging parents and younger generations changing roles with their parents.

That’s all of the Donna (mom) for now.  To follow will be my grandmother coming to live with Donna….

Hoarding and Addiction

Hoarding and Addiction

I love reality television.  I believe the first show I got hooked on was Survivor.  I have not missed a season.  If I would sign up for the show, other than the fact that I am so out of shape and would probably break a hip, I would be the first voted out.  My inability to not have opinions would probably bite me. 

By reality, I don’t mean Housewives of anything.  I have never been a fan of gossip and bad mouthing and extreme egos.  That would drive me nuts.   Reality to me means Hoarders and addiction shows and makeover shows.  I begged to be on What Not to Wear.  No one would nominate me though. 

Last night I was catching up on my recorded shows and was thinking about what gets people to the point in their lives that allow them to start a hoard or to be homeless because of addiction.   There is always a reason.  Always.  Whether it is abandonment or loss of a job or family member, or a form of abuse.   

This makes me wonder as a mom, wife, and friend.  Where the warning signs begin.  Do others just ignore signs?  Looking back on my own life, I can honestly say that my mom was a hoarder.  She was a hoarder because her marriage broke up and it was her and 4 kids.  She was depressed.  As a kid though I will make some observations. 

First, us kids were responsible for cleaning.  This avoided an active hoard.  Her room would get “messy”, but the rest of the house was always in decent shape and clutter-free.  I admit, because we were kids, there was an aspect of stuff hidden under beds. 

Secondly, I think as kids we never even had the maturity to realize that our mom was depressed.  We saw her as tired.  We saw her as sedentary.   We saw her as overwhelmed. 

After we all were raised and moved out, we saw a bigger hoard.  I looked at it as her still being tired and unmotivated.  She worked nights, came home went to bed.  When she got up, she would go see her mom, one of her kids, eat somewhere, go to the store, and eventually go back to work.  Nothing was priority at home.

There were several times that we (the kids) would go clean for her.  It would just happen again.  Eventually my mom came and lived with me and the hoarding ability was gone.  She would save stuff though, that didn’t really make sense, but it was limited and confined. 

Addiction shows are also interesting to me.  Again, there is always a trigger.  The same triggers as a hoarding.  Something happens that leads to alcohol or drug dependency. 

My grandfather was an alcoholic.  I have spent a lot of time trying to dissect what may have been his “trauma”.  Obviously, I will never know.  It could have been that his dad died when he was an infant.  He had a great stepdad and half siblings.  It could have been his 6 sons going off to the military at   18.  I am sure I don’t know for certain and will never know.  That secret died in 1979 with him. 

Again though, there was obviously a reason.  Today we have the expertise of mental health and addiction specialists.  I hope that we are losing the stigma that comes with therapy.  I personally think everyone should see a therapist.   We all have too much on our plate to not need a confidant at some point.

I guess my point is that, no one should have to hide from the past trauma.  We all have the right to be healthy and happy.  There is no shame in being overwhelmed.

Be a friend or a support to others who we can see are reaching out or hiding through hoarding or addiction.

Be Nice

Just a short thought today.

I believe that it is much easier to be nice and kind to people than it is to be mean and constantly judging people. 

It is not our responsibility to judge and degrade those around us. 

Just be nice.

Relationships and Love

   Relationships and Love

Relationships are hard, yet we all abuse each other at times.  Why?  Why can't we realize that we love this person and relationships should be valued and cherished.

There is not a relationship worth having if it isn't worth fighting and forgiving for.  Life isn't easy.  Relationships are definitely not always easy.

Keep those you love important.  Remember, a two cord rope is far sturdier than a single cord.  Remember the importance of each  other.  The bible says to be slow to anger.  It also instructs us that love never fails.  Remember that a hug is a way of surrounding you with love.