Shopping

 

I did something yesterday that I have not done in a very long time.

I went to the grocery store.

Now that may seem like a normal thing to most of you, but for me it has been an unattainable feat for over two years.

Both Kroger and Walmart are set up to make you walk blocks and blocks just to buy groceries, but both also have a pick up policy so that if you spend over a certain amount you can simply pick up your groceries in the car.

This requires a lot of planning in order to get the products I need. I have to make sure I have enough to reach the amount necessary and I have to wait until I do and go without until then.

Lately I have lost some more weight and have been able to cut my diabetes medicine down to a quarter of what it was. I have been forcing myself to walk, really amble, for fifteen minutes after every meal. And I have received a handicap card for my car. All these things made my short fifteen minute trip yesterday possible.

I only bought an onion and some celery and I checked out at the first register, because these things were close to the door, but it was a big step. I almost didn't get the onion because four employees working in produce were all very slowly stocking things and visiting with each other. Oblivious to me and another woman who were blocked from the yellow onions. But just before we gave up, they finally dispersed.

Then an elderly woman in an electric cart was ahead of me at checkout and the whole process took forever, but I made it! On my way out an employee made a special request that I put that basket right back where I got it, which I intended to do anyway.

 Part of me wanted to complain about inconsiderate employees, but another part of me thought how bleak their lives must be if all they do all day is corral carts, or sort vegetables for what is probably minimum wage. Instead I simply celebrated my first freedom to shop in a long time.

Kumbaya

 

I have been taught to always put my best foot forward. 

As a first child my only examples were the grown-ups around me and of course everything they did was much better than I could ever hope to do or be at that early age. I don't remember any explicit directions to do better, but I think my inborn intuition was to succeed.I wanted affirmation that I was okay, doing it right, a good person.

As an adult I often find myself doing something and then stepping back to see if it is done "right." Is there a wrinkle or line out of place? What if I have company and they see this. Will they think I am doing it right? Is it perfect?

Then I have to ask myself if I am doing it for me or them. Why do I make the bed? Why does it have to be perfect? Am I really teaching those I love to do the right things or am I teaching them to be neurotic and obsessive?

As a preschool teacher I sometimes made a "mistake" just to let a student know that was okay. That the world didn't end if I did. 

Having the perfect house, dust free, wrinkle free, in a well designed space should not be the goal unless I am in a contest for house beautiful in some magazine. I need to cut myself some slack and allow the people I love the freedom to be at ease. Let them know that if they are not here I don't necessarily keep every spot of water off the faucet, or speck of dust off the glass.

My daughter-in-law once said, after the birth of their first child, "He thought when you came everything would be kumbaya, perfect." 

That has stuck with me, but it is still a challenge for me not to try to be perfect. Knowing there is a fine line between wanting that and obsession.

Someone

 

My sister did not want to continue living retired in my building. She felt that it made her no one and she wanted to go back to being what she considered someone.

Now she is back working part time and living in a house with a yard, she feels as if she is someone again.

I feel she was someone from the day she was born, but that she just didn't understand it. I suppose it depends on how you define someone and how you evaluated who they are.

For me it is important that I am as self sufficient as possible and to that end I have eliminated, or modified, most of  the things that require me to ask for help. I feel that being empathetic enough to realize other people are already very busy and do not need to be at my beck and call is a kindness I can offer. I enjoy their company, but they don't have to be doing something for me to see them. I want them to come because we have things to talk about, dreams to share, ideas to create -- not furniture to put together, or things to repair.

It is nice to be needed and loved, but that shouldn't become an obligation.

Being someone I am proud of is more about ethics and empathy than titles and possessions. 

Happiness

 

It seems every person has that one something that keeps them going. Then they have the thing that makes them feel put upon enough to feel useful.

My sister likes to buy things. Other than that she like to push things, a mower, a vacuum, a rag for getting rid of spots.

My sister-in-law likes to collect things and cook. Her penance is dusting all those things she collects.

My brother likes to garden and ride his stand alone bike.. He does anything else his wife doesn't want to do.

One of my friends likes to travel to meet friends. He walks his dog several times a day.

Another writes homilies that he shares with the world. He cooks because he likes to eat.

I like to paint pictures. I also like to write. I enjoy reading. None of these things are suffering in any way, but the closest I come to a need for suffering is keeping my apartment and clothing moderately clean.

People no longer have to toil from morn til night just to live and yet we still need that carrot that gets us out of our chair and doing something. Our puritan heritage in this country tells us we must also suffer some if we want to be considered good people.

We are moving closer and closer to a sane world where suffering is not our reason for being. It doesn't make us lazy. It makes us happier and there is nothing wrong with that.

Here, there, and gone!

 

It is given so many names.

Some people call it an attachment disorder.

Others call it being footloose.

I've heard it described as the wanderlust.

And sometimes it is just seen as restless, but whatever it is, it is me.

I'm not quite sure why, but I suspect I was raised to be it, by whatever name you give it.

As children we only know what we live and I lived with my mother, father and siblings. We had extended family of course, but the core was simple and solid.

My first friends outside this unit appeared when I was almost five years old. Julie and Paul, I still remember their names. They lived across the street and sometime we were allowed to cross that street and play together. They were called friends and I took them for granted like I did my family.

Then we moved and I never saw them again. I didn't make new friends until after we moved again to Springfield and I started kindergarten. Billy Pearson and Shawn Patrick were near me alphabetically and they became my new friends. Strangely enough one or the other appeared, or reappeared for the next twenty years, including first dates and coming out parties. I even ran into Bill on Facebook and discovered he told his children about me when they went home to Springfield, which was many many years behind us.

In the middle of sixth grade we moved again. Just across town, but I lost contact with all my elementary school friends, including Kathy Thomas my best friend. We didn't have a way to travel back and forth across town back then, but I made a new friend. Sandy Kirkpatrick a red headed girl who liked to roller skate and was a patrol girl like me. One day in seventh grade the bus was too full to let me on and Sandy's dad drove me all the way out to my junior high. Sandy and I usually walked home together in the afternoon.

Of course right after seventh grade we moved again. This time to a small town called Chatham where my dad taught school. I went to eight grade at a school out in the middle of the country and made one friend there. I can't remember her name now, but she was a new girl like me, We ate lunch together and played on the old playground equipment after lunch.

Halfway through that school year we moved back to our old house in Springfield where I went to six years of elementary school. I just assumed I would pick up with my old friends, but it didn't really happen. Life is awkward when you are 13. By then I had long stopped missing old friends when we moved. I just knew they were out of my life and accepted it. I did reconnect with Kathy and we remained friends through our junior year in high school when I moved again.

This time to a town where my mother was born and raised. To her it was going home and I had aunts, uncles, great aunts and a grandma there. I had cousins too. They were almost like my siblings. We were close, but I didn't really make any super close girl friends here. I did date some boys who were in band with me and I went to Homecoming and Prom, but it was a strange experience. I felt like I was going through the motions and doing what I was supposed to be doing in a book or something. I didn't really feel like I was a part of it in any deep emotional way.

I had a very difficult time when my mother died, but other than that I just sort of know I will have to let go of anyone and everyone I like or love. 

I am divorced and my children are scattered all over the country in Washington, Arizona, and North Carolina. I expected that. They were brought up in a town where most children went somewhere else after they were out of school. I am very close to all of them.

Most of the other people in my life are like faces in a long parade that just keeps getting farther and farther away. I remember them fondly, but feel no real emotional attachment to most of them. I knew from the start that our relationship was what it was and that one day it would change and we would drift apart. Unlike my siblings who live here I don't really have any local friends. I do have lots of acquaintances and people I can talk to when we run into each other. 

It's not exactly out of sight out of mind, but it is very similar. I am unlikely to move from this apartment because it is so nice and so affordable, but I haven't met anyone yet that I want a deeper relationship with. It seems my life revolves around whoever is here and now and a few people who are so close they are really my family of the heart and as close or closer than my siblings.

Curiosity

 

I walked into my second story living room this morning and there, right in the middle of my screen was a huge locust.

It was just sitting there. Not moving. Not even one leg flittering around and it carried me away.

Whatever could have brought it to such a place and caused it to stay so long without moving?

It's a great veiw, but that creature's eyes were not seeing what I see with my two eyes. First of all it has five eyes and none of them are quite like mine.

Then I began to wonder other more interesting things. Like why my window and not the others on the front of our building. Then, maybe God is not the all omnipotent father figure the men who wrote the Bible believed. Perhaps God is a variant on a three year old loose in the universe!

This morning it was playing with bugs and decided to put one on my window to see what both it and I would do.

It blew gently to see if it moved. It focused the sun on it to warm it up and then, swoosh, it flew away.

Distracted, it moved on to play with the other stuff in the sandbox, using its creativity to sort the molecules into multi-verses. 

A cosmic child unfettered by the restraints of mortal children.

Walk!

 

It seems as if I have spent my entire adult life worrying about eating too much.

Back in my twenties Twiggy was the one we all wanted to emulate and I managed it between 102 and 115 pounds for years. That's not a lot since I am nearly five foot seven.

Later after my pregnancy I hit 140 and thought I was immensely obese, which my husband concurred with.

And after years of crazy yo yo dieting, often losing as much as 90 pounds and gaining it all back I found myself as a type two diabetic with stage four kidney disease.

A1C is the blood sugar standard I use to see how I'm doing and at first I thought 150 was obscenely high, but then last year I started hitting 189, which is truly high

Recovering from my stint going back to work and catching COVID then moving down here left me chair bound for over a year. I am just starting to recover.

One of the most amazing things I am discovering is that walking for fifteen minutes after every meal drastically reduces my blood sugar! Now this sounds simple, but doing that is incredibly difficult for me. My feet, my hips, my breath and sometimes even my heart hurt even though I am barely ambling a long.

But the results are so amazing I keep on struggling to do it. Last night I gorged on an entire pizza. Yes, I am still an out of control eater, but my blood sugar this morning was 120 and I am keeping the weight below two hundred. Not amazing, but in the right direction.

Take two

 

I was at a potluck a few days ago and the main course was fried chicken.

I wondered how that worked out for a large group. Think about forty people.

I personally prefer the breast. I like white meat with a minimum of fiddling with bones.

I couldn't hear if there were any specific instructions for how much chicken each person could choose. There may not have been any, but everyone in front of me seemed to be taking two pieces. 

I took one chicken breast, pleased that I got my favorite piece and a little surprised.

Then I looked up and saw the woman who took the largest breast she could find and dug through the rest of the chicken before taking another huge breast. She was not a large woman, nor was she someone who looked malnourished.

I thought maybe she was short on money for the rest of the month and needed to save this for another meal. Or perhaps she was very hungry and would actually eat all that chicken in one sitting, but neither of these felt right.

She looked like the kind of woman who lacked either a conscience, or social grace. She was lean and muscular with a short gray haircut and no nonsense clothing. Not tailored, or sophisticated, simply down to business, a woman who was used to getting her way.

She was a woman I would not want to cross and I wondered what made me have all these thoughts of her. It had to say something about me.

Did I secretly want to take an extra portion of the best chicken? Was I envious of her almost arrogant strength? Did I somehow feel so threatened by her I needed to denigrate her actions?

I honestly don't think so. 

I think she was just a greedy, thoughtless person, possibly a narcissist, who took advantage of anything put in front of her.

Now that's a lot of thoughts about a woman I barely know.

Being noticed

 

Being noticed has both good and bad connotations.

It raises a million questions about why.

Am I unique, a puzzle, an anomaly?

What drew me to their attention?

What is it about me that is worthy, or cringe worthy, of being noticed?

And why did they look away the moment I noticed!

What's the point

 

Everyone has their own idea of what life should be. It's that infamous word, should.

People write volumes about what things should be. Usually to validate their own lives. To an athlete it is winning. To a minister it is saving souls. To a doctor saving lives. To many people it is making money.

I suppose we think we are unique among the creations on this earth. Most things in nature live to grow, reproduce and die. They come. They are. They transition back into the earth. Humans seem to feel we must be more and better than.

Better than what and how is the question. Other manifestations in nature help each other or facilitate other things, but they generally don't go overboard doing it. It seems to be a natural give and take.

Many people seem to need to over do things that have no real point in making their quality of life better. If they simply enjoy it then that is the point. But I see them doing it to impress each other and that is pretty fruitless in the long scheme of things. Impressing others lasts relatively short times. In the long run most people will not even recall it down the road.

I see people who go back to working their old jobs in their seventies because they want to buy things. Buying seems to become their main joy and focus. Most of these things are to impress those around them with their taste, or affluence, or whatever, but it doesn't seem to make them content. It simply drives them to overdo in other areas of their lives. If one flower is pretty, wouldn't a hundred be prettier? If one can of bug spray works, wouldn't two be better? 

It's the old give a mouse a cookie thing. If you give a senior a house, she's going to want flowers for the yard and the flowers will need a hose to water them and then the grass will grow and she will need a lawn mower to cut the grass and that lawn mower will need batteries to run and that means she will have less time to do other things, so the hose never makes it out of the car, so she needs buckets of water for the flowers and that means she needs to buy a bucket. (true story.)

Maybe we should focus more on what makes us content and stop looking for more extravagant reasons to be.

Bad news

 

Bad news swoops in like bats over a full moon.

It might not mean anything, but the implication is there.

Darkness blotting out the light.

I struggle to live in this moment, a moment when all is well.

The theory is good. I can't be anywhere else.

And yet a part of me wants to dwell in those dark spots up ahead.

What ifs that may amount to nothing,

But could be the pivotal point of everything.

At least everything I know now.

Lifestyles of the old and diabetic

 

I don't know how I would be able to do what I am doing if I worked. It takes almost all of my time and energy to stay healthy.

I have to count carbs carefully which means eating certain foods at a certain time of the day. For me that is around 12 to 1 and 5 to 6 and after each meal I have to walk 15 minutes. Not fast. I can't do that, but stay on my feet and keep moving. Afterwards I am usually exhausted.

I meditate 30 minutes after walking at noon.

And around all this I do my laundry, vacuuming, cleaning and shopping online.

I can do it all comfortably, but I don't have tons of energy left over.

I go to bed around midnight and fall right to sleep.

I wake up between 8 and 9.

For fun I play word games on my phone with different friends early in the day and read for an hour before bed. I also love to watch shows about decorating and re-imagining houses. And when the spirit moves me I paint or plan paintings, or do a bit of writing.

I am fortunate to keep in touch with some of my children and grandchildren on a daily basis too, by phone or text. Throw in the occasional family get together, or dinner and my life is full. 

I really can't imagine my life being any different at this stage.

Luxury

 

I don't think I knew the real meaning of luxury until this year.

I've had nice homes, even ones with huge swimming pools. I've had two cars in the family and sometimes three. Once that felt like a luxury. I even have very expensive high quality sheets for my bed, but it doesn't compare to what I have now.

A year ago my feet were in such bad shape I could barely make it from my bed to my chair, or even to the bathroom. Taking a shower was an agony even with a shower chair because I had to step in and out of the tub. I couldn't take my trash down the hall to the chute even using a walker, and doing my laundry was almost impossible.

Last night I walked into my bedroom and the curtain had blown up out of place. I was able to walk over and fix that without a second thought. That is a luxury!

Being able to navigate around my home, to be able to go to an event without being in pain, to walk down and get in my car. All of these things are luxuries. 

Real luxuries.

Health is priceless.

Success

 

How I define success creates a road map to my life.

If it is a collection of status symbols I become a slave to my desires.

If it requires measuring up to the expectations of other people or the world, it is the road to dissatisfaction.

Madly running around, or looking busy creates chaos.

Striving to be something I am not is pointless in the end.

Success is personal.

Taking my cues from nature might help. Mountains stand for eons. Mount Aetna is not Mount Fugi. Plants grow from their own seeds and bulbs. Daffodils are daffodils. Water flows. The Mississippi flows into the Gulf which flows into the ocean. Animals live and die never owning anything.

This doesn't mean I need to copy any of these things, but they demonstrate that in the grand scheme of things life was never meant to be something it isn't. I am given a certain amount of time to live and how I choose to do it makes all the difference -- to me.

Every moment is a blip of my eternity.

If I can look around me and say, "The air is sweet. This moment is peaceful. I am content." I am light years ahead of the person scrabbling to out do nature.

The Domino Effect

All of life is connected. 

Everything is important in its own way. Of course we have priorities, but it can be surprising how one little thing affects everything else.

For example: Mad Millie wants the old falling down decrepit shed next to the alley and promises to take it away before the end of the week.

The end of the week comes and the shed is still there. You talk to the guys putting in the fence and they agree to cart off all the shed pieces and burn them for you when they put up the fence.

Mad Millie really wants the shed and promises she will take care of it so you can put up your fence, build a new outbuilding and add an awning for your car.

The fence goes up. The new outbuilding arrives in big boxes that you stack in the living room. The shed is still there. You have lost your chance to have the fence men haul it away for you.

You begin doing things inside, but the boxes for the outbuilding remain in the living room. You finally decide Mad Millie is not going to take the shed. Your son has to tear it down and now he also has to figure out a way to dispose of all the boards and lumber and dig out the base before he can build the outbuilding.

The nails are a hazard in the boards for people moving them. The shed remains, making putting in anything new impossible. You want to finish moving in and set up your living room, but thanks to Mad Millie not doing what she promised you cannot, because the boxes for the new outbuilding are still in there.

Of course Mad Millie visits when the spirit moves her and makes token acts of helping, but four, maybe five people are caught up in the chaos she created.

Your son, who has a home, a wife, a full time job, and an ailing father to care for spends his free time working on your house so you and Mad Millie can be friends.

This scenario is not limited to the shed situation. There is always one person who pays the price for anything and everything you cannot do. Someone who buys your television for you, sets it up, tries to teach you to use a remote, puts together furniture that comes un-assembled, mounts doors and closet rods you want or feel you need. Taking care of you becomes a full time job just so you can be friends with Mad Millie.

You make token attempts to help. A few swipes with a lawn mower before someone has to find new batteries for you. Taking out a few nails in the pile of boards from the shed, because it is easier than unpacking all the stuff you could not get rid of and now have no room for. You get a part time job and count on your son to pull your life together. Over and over and over. And you are angry with your sister because she promised to help you arrange the tiny living room with the over-sized furniture you and Mad Millie chose for it and she won't do it until you remove the boxes for the outbuilding.

You have now impacted at least three maybe four separate families.

The domino effect.

Aging

 

Aging is one of the consequences of living. Good, bad, or indifferent it happens to each one of us.

In the beginning we applaud every little change. That first smile, first tooth, first step.

But we seldom view the last step or last tooth, or last smile with the same vigor.

And that is how it should be, I suppose. We are creatures born to live.

Dying is a fearful thing for many people. Going into the unknown is frightening.

And yet, it is unavoidable.

All things cease to be in their current form, but if we look at nature it becomes obvious that things don't disappear completely. They transition into something else and whatever that is usually is an integral part of what we call life around it.

Consciousness is another story. Who knows where consciousness goes to. Or where it comes from, really. It is possible that all things have some form of consciousness that we are simply unaware of. 

There is certainly energy, or power, all around us from the sunlight, the moon, the wind, or even things like gravity. This whole universe is a powerhouse of wonder.

Perhaps the secret to not fearing death comes from understanding that it is as natural to our being as birth and the mysteries of what it is may be ineffably wonderful too.

Freedom

 

Freedom is another one of those words like love. It means entirely different things in different contexts. 

Beyond the freedom to live in a place where you are respected and allowed to have a voice is the freedom of your personal life.

For some people that seems to be the freedom to make yourself the center of attention, or monetarily rich, or house proud, or a million other things that require someone or something else to conform to some expectation.

For others it is a personal thing. I am one of those.

My sense of freedom comes from having a space where I can be absolutely me. Naked and unafraid of any kind of criticism or judgement or even company if I choose. That does not mean I run around without clothes on or hide away from people at all. 

I love company. Invited company.

It means that I have a space where I feel safe from unexpected interruptions of any sort for as much time as I can manage. 

Imagine a three year old rambling around the house. Reading, writing, painting, re-arranging the furniture, napping, cleaning when the spirit moves me, or as it becomes necessary, wearing only those clothes that feel soft and comfortable. Happy. Creative. Free!

Now I suppose you can have that with people running freely throughout your house, but I have yet to find a grown-up who can resist having an opinion about me and I just don't want to even think about that in my own space if I can avoid it.

Some people may call me a loner, but I love company. Good interesting company. A person, occasionally two maybe, who want to get into deep lovely conversations over a cup of coffee or tea. But it is the space between us that allows us to have these conversations.

That is freedom to me.

Love

 

Love.

Touted as the be all and end all of everything, love is so over used it is an almost meaningless word.

According to many romance novels, television shows and movies, love is all you need to do anything. 

But love really is a simple thing.

You don't have to be president of the United States to be loved. You don't have to be beautiful to be loved. You don't have to clean your house, wash your windows, paint your friend's house, or do anything else to be loved.

You are lovable. 

Someone, somewhere loves you for exactly who you are with all your failures, all your shortcomings, all your problems, because that is what real love is. Nothing can change that.

Being loved will not make you anything you aren't already. It will not guarantee you will live happily ever after.

It can give you that warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel happy, but remember happiness is an extreme, not a constant, and it can give your self confidence a boost, but you have to realize two things first.

1. You have to love yourself for who you are.

2. You have to recognize that you are loved and worthy.

So, I guess the secret to love is just to live honestly and fully. Drop the pretense. Lose the need to impress. Don't try to be what you are not, but be the best that you are.

A beautiful life

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

Words from one of my favorite stories as a child about a little engine who thought he could and so he did!

There are other cute stories with the same premise. All good things to hear and learn.

So why do so many adults do just the opposite?

They come up with a million excuses and reasons not to do something. It is honestly counterproductive in every way.

In my life I have discovered I can do almost anything if I want to badly enough. I may have to be extra creative. I may have to make careful plans. I may even have to force myself to start, but that is the kicker.

Once you start something it is often not as difficult or awful as you imagined it to be while putting it off.

They old athletic rah rah thing, "Just do it!" is good advice. 

Then? "Just keep going." Make that your mantra.

Make a plan. Have priorities. Get to work.

Don't let anyone, or anything get in between you and good choices and you will be amazed at how much better life can be.

Living in disarray and clutter is hard on the nervous system and if you've never tried to live without clutter and mess you should test this theory for yourself.

Peace reigns. Depression lessens or disappears altogether. Life gets easier without things looming over you. You think you don't notice these things, but your brain registers them. Your eyes see them. Your hands and feet work around them. It's sunshine of the mind in real life.

Second hand Rose

 

Second hand Rose. A song. A movie. All kinds of things come to mind.

But the first thing I think of is a woman who I think of as second hand Rose or the widow maker.

This person has gone through husbands and boyfriends like most people go through paper cups. She doesn't outright kill them, but she would drive me insane and my blood pressure would do the rest.

She collects "stuff." 

From the alley. From the side of the road. From moving sales. From any place where something can be picked up for free. 

She "plans" things. Without much thought. Haphazardly. Cheaply. (Made and done.)

She makes promises that she has no notion of keeping in this lifetime.

She is needy and will say, do, or promise anything to make someone "love" her in the moment.

She is an enabler of lost dreams that never really materialize.

She is not poor financially, but mentally? Something is not right.

We've all probably met someone similar to her, but if she were your best friend you would be in a world of hurt.