Who I Used To Be

Recently I have been viewing my Blog Stats.  A lot.  I can go for months and not look once.  Other times, I am compulsively obsessed.  A post from July 23, 2010 is currently showing as one of my most read posts of this week.  Frankly, I always find it odd when an old blog post jumps back into my Top 5.  So, I read it.  What I realized is this: I used to be very open on this blog.  I was committed to writing daily and it sometimes led to crazy posts.  They would start in one place and end in a very different one.  My new readers don't know that person.  I am not sure where she is.  But, let me introduce you via my post called *Bang* on July 23, 2010....

I had been thinking about writing this extremely "real" blog today. Once I got on here and caught up on my own blog reading, I realized it was Blog Hop Friday. Egads. If there is anything that I have learned it is that someone new to your blog doesn't want to read anything extremely real about you on their first visit! That would have them screaming and running for their lives.


So, then I thought I could write something funny. I'm funny. I'm all kinds of funny. In fact, I had a dream last night and I was a one woman comedy act in it. I would tell you about it, but it was a strange dream. Again, I try not to freak people out on their first visit. I do know that I learned one thing from that dream. I hate my hair. I was adamant about a hair appointment that I NEEDED to make. Other things kept getting in the way and I was really snarky by the end of the dream and I was yelling things like, "But I hate my hair!" So, if there was any greater truth in that dream, I think that was it.


One of my friends left this comment on one of my recent blogs:

"Robin, at the risk of hurting you, I will tell you the truth. Sometimes you tend to ramble. Sometimes I don't know WHAT you are talking about. And then, just when I least expect it...BANG! You strike and tear out my heart.

I don't think that your blog has the best writing (sorry) objectively speaking, but it is the one I rush to read so maybe, just maybe, it does. After all, how can we judge what is good writing? Maybe it is simply what appears genuine, heartfelt and exquisitely real.

I love you.

Take care of yourself."

That is how I roll on this blog. I just ramble on and you think that I am going nowhere, and you are mildly entertained, and then *BANG* I actually come up with something that makes sense. For the record, I don't really do crafts, I am not much of a cook, I am working on a novel, I have kicka$$ migraines that tear my world apart regularly, I'm having a really tough time with my friendships, no dating life, and I am living with my parents. Never in a million years did I see my life going like this. Does it suck? Like lemons after half a bottle of tequila when you are throwing up on the bathroom floor in a bar that hasn't been cleaned in six months. (Was that metaphor too vivid? I am thinking it might have been too vivid.)

Anyway, my life right now is about doing what I can. I write when I can. I put the effort into people who are worth it. Right now, there aren't very many people in my life who are worth it. The ones who are live all the way across the country. It is just a bit far. I have a couple of friends here who are worth it, but they are busy most of the time. So, I blog and I work on my novel. And I work on me. And I spend time with my real friends when they can fit me into their crazy schedules. A big part of what I'm doing right now is working on letting things go. This is something that I have problems with, and I will give you an example:

I held on to a marriage that I should have let go of much sooner in order to save children that weren't mine. That's why I have a migraine that started in January of 2003 and hasn't stopped since. That's right. Every day since January 2003. The stress of being married and trying to save his kids was too big for me. Had I let go sooner, I think that the pain cycle of the migraine could have been put down. I didn't. I waited too long. I was determined to give his kids a solid foundation. I thought that when I left the migraines would end. I was wrong. That one choice cost me everything. Letting things go sounds easy. It's not. Sometimes knowing what to keep, how long to keep it, and when to let go are the things that can change or save your life. Sometimes both. *BANG*

Blindsided.

I knew someone who used to talk about rollercoasters in terms of stress. When it is really bad it is sort of like this: you are stuck in a rollercoaster park. All of the coasters are unlabeled. You must choose one. So, you get the stress of the choosing, the stress while you wait in line, and then the stress during the ride, and then you get to do it all again. Of course, everyone likes and dislikes different coasters. Give me the smooth ones with lots of up and down and tight curves. The wooden coasters and the ones that go upside down are the ones that alternately make me feel like I need a chiropractic readjustment or just downright sick to my stomach.

Yeah, this post is about my dad. I spoke to him just about a week ago and he was doing well. In fact, he was doing about the same as when he was initially diagnosed. He was still getting up daily and his pain meds hadn't increased at all. In other words, his routine was pretty much the same as right after his initial diagnosis. On Thursday of this past week all of that changed. Bam. No longer did he feel capable of getting out of bed, and he isn't able to eat or drink much of anything. That has affected his ability to speak. His need for pain meds also changed. He went from doing very well to looking like he has a life expectancy of about two weeks.

There are no words to truly express how shocked I am. He was using an alternative treatment that I think might have worked had he found it six months to a year ago. However, I was beginning to hope that it was going to work ~ even now ~ since he wasn't getting worse. You see, I was beginning to disbelieve the original diagnosis. I thought my dad was going to be the person to beat stage 4 cancer.

And then today arrived. My brother called and told me how bad it was and that my dad was not going to beat stage 4 cancer. My dad possibly would not live to see the month of June. Wow.

Hope is the best and the worst thing in the world.

I had to go lie down because it gave me in instant migraine. I know I jumped right in line for the roller coaster. I remember the people in my dream, but I don't know any of them. I just remember my parting shot at all of them being, before I woke up, "I don't have time for your crap and your drama. My dad is dying of cancer." I was literally crying when I came out of that sleep.

I pondered the what to do for a while. Talking on the phone is never good. He can't understand me and now it hurts him to talk. I considered going back up there, but I don't want to remember him like this. That decision was reinforced when I did talk to him today. It greatly upset him when I cried on the phone. He wants me to be okay with his dying. And I will be... eventually. But, I am not sure that it will be in less than a month. I don't want to make his passing worse. This cannot be all about me.

So, I suggested to my brother that I write my dad an email every day and he read it to him. I have decided that it is unimportant if dad remembers our history or not. I remember it. I want him to feel the love in it. And if it jogs his memory, that is wonderful. If it doesn't, than I will be remembering for both of us. It is the last gift I can give him before he goes.

I am thinking that I will post them here. You can read them or not. I will call them Letters To Dad and then give them a subtitle. If that is your thing, read away. If not, come back when it is over. Either way, I understand.

image found at www.weheartit.com

L is for Losing Focus

I really didn't want to write anything today. I am having focus problems. Dear friends, I love reading your blogs. I truly do. In fact, many a day I enjoy reading your blogs more than I like writing my own. Some days I just read your blogs and I don't write one of my own. This is all pre-cancer news. Since finding out about my dad and his terminal diagnosis, I just can't focus. Period. I tell myself that writing a blog will be good for me. In fact, that is what I am telling myself right now. I told myself that reading your blogs would be good for me, but I couldn't focus in order to actually accomplish the task. Do I want to know what you're doing? Yes. Am I interested? Yes. Why can't I focus? I have no idea.

Do I want to blog about what happened with my dad? Yes and no. Mostly no right now.

Do I want to blog about what happened with my sister-in-law? Yes and no. Mostly no right now.

Do I want to blog about the meeting with an old friend from school? Yes. But, I can't really focus. It's a good story and I want to get it right.

Do I want to blog about the doctor appt my dad had with the surgeon who removed his colon and hooked him to the colostomy bag? And then what he said to me? Yes and no. Mostly no right now. Some doctors deserve to be smacked. He needs a good smacking. And he isn't going on my list of doctors when my website goes up. Just sayin'.

Do I want to blog about how great Hospice is? Yes and no? Mostly yes. But not right now. It makes me sad. And happy. Happy sad.

I did think of Phoenix's blog on pushing more love toward situations that you can't control. If you have tried everything else, try pushing more love toward it. I even did that. It helped and then it didn't. And then I decided to focus on what mattered. Now, the old me who could focus better would find that blog and link up to it. Why? Because it was an awesome blog that she probably wrote about eight months ago and I still remember it. A blog has to be pretty darn awesome to stick in my brain for that long. Would I like to write more about the details of this? Yes and no.

Why? Because Chris over at A Deliberate Life just wrote a blog a few days ago on Letting Go of Resentment. I didn't comment on that blog. Why? Because I couldn't focus. However, it really hit home for me. Sometimes people are who they are. I pretty much had that one figured out before I left Ohio, but reading that blog was kind of the last straw, so to speak. It helped me just to let it all go. You aren't going to change people. Not everyone is going to like you. You can be as nice to them as you know how to be. You can be yourself (how can you be anyone else?). And if they still just don't like you, they don't like you. All you can do is continue to be kind to them and treat them as nicely as you know how. That is it. Keep pushing love toward them. And if they still don't like you, well that is on them. But, let it go. You aren't going to win them all and that is that.

The last thing I can think of right now is that my neighbor suggested that I write (as in email) my congressman and then follow it up with a phone call about Social Security denying my SSDI claim. She said she worked some government agency back in the day (Medicaid maybe) and it really got the ball rolling for someone if a Congressman took an interest. Anyway, she said that because they denied my claim based on four doctors (it was supposed to be 2 of mine and 2 of theirs), but one of the doctors was someone I had never seen, I had reason to involve my Congressman. I also had reason to involve my Congressman because my representative in this case said "This kind of thing happens all the time." They were jaded by the system and how it wasn't working and not willing to fight. Their answer was an appeal, which we would have done anyway. So, blog friends, in your opinion do you think that writing and calling your local Congressman is the way to go here to speed up this process? I am interested in your thoughts...

Okay, I promise to try and be a better blog friend, and get my stuff together, so that I can put coherent thoughts together, so that I can actually read your posts. As it is, I read a little here and a little there. But, I mostly don't feel able to comment. It is very sad. I never really thought the day would come when this girl would be at a loss for words. (silently shaking head now in disbelief) So, I will work on my focus issues and hope that you bear with me while I sort it all out.

image found at www.weheartit.com

DAY 18: DEAR WHO I WISH I COULD BE

Dear The Pieces of Me,

This letter is supposed to be written to the person who I wish I could be. There isn't any one person I wish I could be. However, there are quite a few people who have qualities that I wish I could somehow understand so comprehensively that they became a natural part of who I am. I am going to be embarking on an important task. Actually, it is more of a mission, and having these qualities would make things run more smoothly. So, let's get down to brass tacks.

I wish that I had my next door neighbor's bullshit meter. You can read about that here if you want a chuckle. She could smell a lie before somebody finished a sentence. She was that good. Having a fine-tuned bullshit detector is an invaluable instrument, and should be handled with care. I do believe that Life has tried to hone me with this skill by sending several extremely talented liars my way. Time will tell the tale if my meter beeps as clear and true as my neighbor's always did.

You know that line in the song The Gambler, "You gotta know when to hold 'em, Know when to fold 'em, Know when to walk away, Know when to run." Well, from the reading that I have done thus far, running a non-profit is a lot like that. You move too soon and it falls apart. You don't move soon enough (aka take the risk) and it stagnates. Timing is everything. So, I guess I want the quality of the gambler. Obviously one who knows when to move and when to stick.

Most people are not born with the art of listening. They just aren't. That quality is often developed. Nurtured even. It's important to know how to sell your organization. But, you have to listen first to understand the need. If you don't know what the needs are, you don't know how to meet them. I think of Mother Teresa. She did a lot of listening. She didn't run a non-profit insofar as I know, but by listening, she helped people one person at a time. She was so devoted to helping, that you could put her stats up next to any doctor's and... I bet her patients had a better quality of life in her care when she was done with them. Just sayin'. Don't ever underestimate the value of listening.

There is no I in TEAM. I am a serious Type A personality. I am one of those people that would rather do it myself than take the time to explain to you how to do it, just to watch you screw it up anyway. Or not do it at all. Or do it late. College projects were a bitch. I just did them and told my other project mates to go home and watch TV. Or whatever. They weren't lowering my freaking grade with their lameass work. Crap. I am cursing again. Sorority projects were worse. During pledging it was all too much. I had to delegate crap because I was the Pledge Captain. Did you doubt that? Come on. Seriously? I about killed one of my fellow pledges. As in dead as a freakin' doornail. I hated her until I graduated. Sorority love be freaking damned. I just cursed again. This is a bad subject. We had to do something for pledging. She volunteered to do it. Day comes for it to be turned in and she didn't have time. Say What? You don't tell me at the last fucking minute that you didn't have time. If you didn't have time, you tell me the day before, or the day before that, when I can take that bitch back, and do it myself. You biotch hoe with bad hair. As your Pledge Captain I take the SHIT for the stuff you don't do. I am gonna mop the floor with your ass after we come out of that pledging meeting. Let's just say I have delegation issues. I still loathe that biotch and would hit her with my car if I saw her walking down the road. Not kill her. Just break a leg or something.

I think I made my point about delegation issues. This is a toughie. There is no I in TEAM. Well, the good news is that I get to pick the TEAM. I got stuck with the teams I had in class and who the sorority picked for my pledge class. That ain't happening again. So, the key here is to pick people I feel comfortable delegating important tasks to, and not worrying about it afterwards. In other words, I know that these people will do what they say they will do. And, if they can't do it, they will delegate it to someone else, or they will let me know, so that I can redelegate it, or do it myself. Whew. Maybe cursing is therapeutic. I feel tons better. Or maybe it was just the idea of breaking her leg with my car. Broken legs heal people. Don't judge.

I believe that most people will resonate to this non-profit in a really beautiful way. I think it will help so many people, and will be greeted with an armful of love. The flipside of that is there is always someone or several someones who are the haters. There are people who look for ways to hate and try to turn good things bad. Always have been. Always will be. I have no doubt that organizations like the Red Cross, Goodwill, Salvation Army, Boy Scouts/Girl Scouts, etc. get hate mail. Why? Because there are people out there who hate all things good. They hate organizations that try to make this world better. Ignoring the haters will be hard for me. Someone in the organization will say, "Robin, you shouldn't take this personally." They are right. I shouldn't. However, it will feel personal. My idea come to fruition. So, yeah, I am taking it personal. Maybe I should take it as a sign that I am doing something right. If you haven't pissed somebody off, you aren't working hard enough.

The last two are biggies. Yeah, like the others weren't? This one is really hard. Accepting the fact that I cannot save everyone. Change that. Accepting the fact that I cannot save anyone. The only thing I can do is provide tools, and hope that they use those tools to save themselves. That is it. I cannot even get too closely involved in somone's illness if I see that they are not using the tools they have been given. That is me trying save someone else. I have this personality that wants to band-aid the world. It is ironic, since I am having a really difficult time just keeping my head above water right now. That is how I know that each person is responsible for their own recovery. You have to fight for it. You have to use the tools in front of you.

Letting go. As this organization gets bigger and bigger, it will become vital that I train more and more people to do all of the things that I am doing. No one person can be indispensable in a non-profit. If you create a non-profit so that one person is vital to keep it running, and that person dies, the non-profit dies, too. That cannot happen. We all like to think we are indispensable, but it is critical to a non-profit that no one is indispensable.

So, Robin, you need to work a bit on your personality. You are a flawed human being that needs to make some changes in order for your non-profit to get off the ground. However, you really believe in this project and want it to work, so I know that you will do what needs to be done. I have faith in you.

Love,
Your Inner Self



Image found here

*BANG*

I had been thinking about writing this extremely "real" blog today. Once I got on here and caught up on my own blog reading, I realized it was Blog Hop Friday. Egads. If there is anything that I have learned it is that someone new to your blog doesn't want to read anything extremely real about you on their first visit! That would have them screaming and running for their lives.


So, then I thought I could write something funny. I'm funny. I'm all kinds of funny. In fact, I had a dream last night and I was a one woman comedy act in it. I would tell you about it, but it was a strange dream. Again, I try not to freak people out on their first visit. I do know that I learned one thing from that dream. I hate my hair. I was adamant about a hair appointment that I NEEDED to make. Other things kept getting in the way and I was really snarky by the end of the dream and I was yelling things like, "But I hate my hair!" So, if there was any greater truth in that dream, I think that was it.


One of my friends left this comment on one of my recent blogs:

"Robin, at the risk of hurting you, I will tell you the truth. Sometimes you tend to ramble. Sometimes I don't know WHAT you are talking about. And then, just when I least expect it...BANG! You strike and tear out my heart.

I don't think that your blog has the best writing (sorry) objectively speaking, but it is the one I rush to read so maybe, just maybe, it does. After all, how can we judge what is good writing? Maybe it is simply what appears genuine, heartfelt and exquisitely real.

I love you.

Take care of yourself."

That is how I roll on this blog. I just ramble on and you think that I am going nowhere, and you are mildly entertained, and then *BANG* I actually come up with something that makes sense. For the record, I don't really do crafts, I am not much of a cook, I am working on a novel, I have kicka$$ migraines that tear my world apart regularly, I'm having a really tough time with my friendships, no dating life, and I am living with my parents. Never in a million years did I see my life going like this. Does it suck? Like lemons after half a bottle of tequila when you are throwing up on the bathroom floor in a bar that hasn't been cleaned in six months. (Was that metaphor too vivid? I am thinking it might have been too vivid.)

Anyway, my life right now is about doing what I can. I write when I can. I put the effort into people who are worth it. Right now, there aren't very many people in my life who are worth it. The ones who are live all the way across the country. It is just a bit far. I have a couple of friends here who are worth it, but they are busy most of the time. So, I blog and I work on my novel. And I work on me. And I spend time with my real friends when they can fit me into their crazy schedules. A big part of what I'm doing right now is working on letting things go. This is something that I have problems with, and I will give you an example:

I held on to a marriage that I should have let go of much sooner in order to save children that weren't mine. That's why I have a migraine that started in January of 2003 and hasn't stopped since. That's right. Every day since January 2003. The stress of being married and trying to save his kids was too big for me. Had I let go sooner, I think that the pain cycle of the migraine could have been put down. I didn't. I waited too long. I was determined to give his kids a solid foundation. I thought that when I left the migraines would end. I was wrong. That one choice cost me everything. Letting things go sounds easy. It's not. Sometimes knowing what to keep, how long to keep it, and when to let go are the things that can change or save your life. Sometimes both. *BANG*





All images found at www.weheartit.com

MONDAY CONFESSIONAL

This business of finding the lost car key has caused us to sort through everything in storage. It is a daunting task. When the idea came up, straightaway it took me back to the packing up of my house and what a HUGE endeavor that turned out to be. I pitched so much stuff, gave tons to Goodwill, and still had too much when it was all said and done.


I remember that when I first started the packing process in 2006, there was more deliberation about what to keep and what to trash. As the moving deadline got closer, it became more frenzied. I also asked for help from friends. Those people didn't know what to keep and what to pitch, so they packed everything. Naturally. I had two bookcases full of books. There were doubledecked on the shelves with paperbacks. And I has a smaller bookcase that was only two-tiered, but also overflowing. I had books! Now, I have many boxes of books. My mother warned me about this before my step-dad began carting boxes back to the house. It went something like this:

Her: You do realize that books don't fare well in storage.

Me: Um. Yeah.

Her: You are very allergic to mildew and the chances are going to be high that they will be mildewy.

Me: Right. Mildew.

Her: We can try to save the ones you really want to keep by airing them out on the back porch, but you will likely have to get rid of most of them.

Me: Right.

These are the words that a pack rat most dreads. She knew this about me, so we had this conversation several days ago so that it could sink in today. We went through two boxes today. The books weren't as bad off as I expected. However, the space problem remained the same: it is very limited. For the most part, I just sent them to the library. They weren't that mildewy after all. I did catch up with one of my missing Richard Bach books. I will get them all before this is done!



And I found a book called SIMPLE ABUNDANCE: A DAYBOOK OF COMFORT AND JOY by Sarah Ban Breathnach. There is a short read for each day of the year. Today's post hit me right where I lived. I love it when that happens. She was talking about visiting a friend who had made small changes to her living room that spruced it up and made it a real living space. The changes were minor, but they made major changes in their lives. She noticed it immediately when she walked in, but couldn't put her finger on the specifics.

Then she applied what she learned from that to her life. She started talking about her own metaphorical "living room/house" and this is what she said: "The biggest stumbling block for me when I began to bring more order into the daily fabric of our lives - and I began in the living room - was acceptance, even though I knew this was the crucial first step. I'm embarrassed to admit how much time, energy, and emotion (precious natural resources) I squandered hating the fact that our house wasn't more spacious. But hating my house only bound me psychologically and blinded me creatively to its many positive qualities. An ancient metaphysical law says that we can never leave any situation that causes us discomfort until we learn to love it or at least to see love at work in it."

As I said, she nailed that right on the head. That book was published in 1991. How did she know that on this day in 2010 I would be struggling with this very thing? One thing is certain: my space situation isn't changing. In fact, it is going to get worse because there are a lot more boxes coming and the shelves are full. So, Houston, we have a problem.

It is a funny thing. I can clearly see how negative people suck our energy. How long would I have let this book thing string me along with anxiety before I hit my Meltdown switch? Don't know. But I can totally envision it happening. I am not quite sure how I am going to get that place of loving the lack of space. Loving the things it gives and not just seeing what it takes. There is a lesson here. I can feel it, so I know it's important. I refuse to waste my precious natural resources, so that means I can learn to love it, or at least see love at work in it. Those are the only acceptable choices.


So, are you a pack rat or extremely organized? Or an organized pack rat? Do those exist? Are you are reformed pack rat who has shed all of that old stuff? If so, what did that feel like? Would you do it again or do you wish you had your old stuff back?