learning – My Time to Bloom

A-Ha Moment

Recently I had an a-ha moment. It wasn’t a brand new revelation, exactly, and it was something I have touched on and mentioned before, but it was the first time that it really sank in, grabbed something deep inside, and refused to be brushed aside again.

I take care of things. I mean that in many ways.

First, I mean it in the sense that I get things done. I am very task-oriented. Let me know something needs done, and I am already formulating a plan to finish it. My husband is the same way. When we helped our older daughter move recently, he and I jumped right in, stayed in motion, never slowed down, and focused on getting the job done. The entire move was completed in less than two hours. Now, we were exhausted, sweaty, and thirsty, but the important thing to us was…we got it done!

Second, I mean it in the sense that I take care of others. I am not a coddling, baby-talking kind of caretaker. I believe in tough love when needed, and that nurturing means honesty and guiding people to take care of themselves. But I feel responsible for the ones I love and want to help them in any way I can.

I take care of my husband, my stepkids, my grandbabies. That will never change, and I don’t want it to. I love them and want to take care of them. I am not complaining or nominating myself for martyrdom. I have never thrown what I do for them into their faces, because that’s an asshole move.

But this is the realization I had recently. I had just come home for work, and my husband wasn’t home yet. The first thing I did was take care of my cat, picking him up, loving on him, getting his dinner and clean water. Then I went outside to take care of the cats who refuse to live inside: petting them, talking to them, changing their water, serving dinner.

And after that, I was strolling to the back edge of the yard to pick up the large water bowl I leave for squirrels and raccoons, getting ready to clean and refill it, when the thought hit me that I actually prioritize taking care of everything and everyone under the sun before myself. Again, not because I demand praise and want a medal for my sacrifice, but because I simply run out of energy before I get to me, and that has been happening for a long time now.

I had to laugh. I have a house full of plants and orchids that I take care of and fawn over. A yard I fuss over all the time (weeding, trimming, mulching, you know, the never-ending maintenance). A car that gets washed and detailed every week. A house that stays cleaned and organized. The neighborhood’s happiest birds, squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, and possums, thanks to multiple feeders, bird baths, and water bowls. Four amazing kids, an awesome husband, two beautiful grandkids, three brothers I adore, all of whom only need to ask, and I will be there, because I love them all and am happy they are in my life.

I wouldn’t trade any of it or take any of that off the table. What made me laugh was realizing that I have prioritized absolutely everything, including random wildlife, over taking care of me. So much of my time and effort are devoted to everything and everyone but me, and I have come to view taking time for me as as a waste of my time. I actually get irritated about doing something for myself.

I love animals, but come on…when raccoons, squirrels, and hummingbirds are tended to better than myself, maybe it’s time to reevaluate and reprioritize just a bit!

I am not dropping anyone off my list, human or animal or plant. They are all still important to me and worthy of my attention and energy. I have just finally come to the realization that hey…I am worthy of my energy and attention, too! And I need to slide myself to the top of that list sometimes, because I not only want it and deserve it, but because I honestly need it.

Realization

A commenter on another post asked how my stepdaughter’s birthday dinner went over the weekend. Let’s talk about that.

It’s no secret that my husband’s ex-wife (aptly nicknamed Psycho here) has insisted on making things as difficult, contentious, and unnecessarily combative as she possibly can, for nearly two decades. I have zero patience for her lust for drama and conflict, so I dread occasions when we have to spend time with her in person, because she will gladly ruin one of the children’s events to pat herself on the back for being tasteless.

This past weekend, my husband and I met my older stepdaughter and her fiancé for their birthday dinner, since their birthdays are just days apart. Psycho and my younger stepdaughter were also there.

I realized something at that dinner this past weekend. Sitting next to my husband, holding his hand, chatting with my stepdaughter’s fiancé about football…I was actually relaxed. Not uncomfortable. Not tense. Just calm.

I keep writing about growth and true happiness, but until that moment, I didn’t realize how much things have changed within me. When we walked up to the table and were instantly greeted with a sour frown from Psycho and then a string of her deafening complaints about the time, the wait, and lord knows what else because I tuned it out, the truth finally clicked for me, loud and clear.

That woman is a miserable soul. And she always will be. For whatever reason, she refuses to change. She wants to be unhappy, and she yearns to make everyone around her as unhappy as she is.

I used to feel animosity for her. But looking at her this past weekend, I couldn’t help but see the ravages of her moldered soul: frown lines slashed into her sagging face; deadened, empty eyes; her forsaken lack of light or heart or joy.

Some people can’t be saved. They don’t want to be. They cling to their bitterness and spite, because that’s all they have. They desperately claw at others to drag them down to their level, and they rage when people are happy anyway. That is exactly what was happening that evening at dinner, what has been happening for years and years, and I understood it crystal clear for the first time. My tension melted away in that moment, because suddenly I fully and absolutely knew.

She has never hated me. Or my husband. She hates that we are happy. She hates that despite all her attempts to destroy our relationship, we are still very much in love, devoted to each other, building our lives and our future together.

And she is…nothing. She hates that, too.

Psycho bristled at that table, endlessly complaining and gossiping as always, trying her damnedest to bring everyone down with her. But it didn’t work. My husband joked around. My stepdaughters teased each other. My stepdaughter’s fiancé joined in with his own quiet humor. And my husband and I held hands and enjoyed the evening, because we were together.

A burden was heaved off of my shoulders that night. Of course I always knew that Psycho is a joyless creature, but wholly comprehending her foulness, her infatuation with me, her bitterness, and planting the entire responsibility for that onto her shoulders where it belonged, was a welcome relief for me.

Instead of dread, I felt nothing. It just is what it is. She is what she is. Ultimately, insignificant.

I went home that night feeling light. Peaceful. Loved.

Psycho went home that night exactly as she arrived. Hate-filled. Jealous. Fake. Desperate. Failed. Tolerated, not loved. Echoing emptiness.

I am a firm believer that what lies inside will reflect on your outside. For some people, that is beautiful. For others…it is tragic.

For me? I know I still have a long way to go. But the night of that dinner was a significant road marker, signaling how far I have already traveled. And for that, I am grateful and inspired. When I have seen up close and personal what refusing to grow does to a person, then every single step away from that is glorious progress.

Learn

Some of my most valuable life lessons have actually been delivered through people I do not like or respect at all. Sometimes it’s not the teacher, but the teaching, that matters most; don’t close your ears to the lesson simply because you are turned off by the messenger.

Here are some things I have learned by observing people I do not like even the tiniest bit:

Respect and appreciate the people in your life who care about you. Talk is cheap: show them you love them. Leave no doubt. Pour your attention and time onto them, not onto irrelevant people who bring no happiness to your days.
Focus on your own life, your own goals, your own path. Obsessing over someone else’s life will result in years flying by with no growth or positive change in yours.
Hand-outs from others very often come with too many strings attached to make them worth it. I choose to stand on my own two feet instead of depending on someone who only wants to yank puppet strings. (Besides, isn’t being in your 50s and still getting an allowance from your daddy just a wee bit embarrassing?)
Jealousy and bitterness age you. Lack of joy and genuine happiness etch your face like a chisel into stone.
Appreciating life can’t be overemphasized. Watch more sunsets. Search for shapes in clouds. Lose yourself in the sound of your loved one’s voice. Hold on tight to life, and celebrate being here another day.
Cherish what you already have. Don’t waste energy by eyeing what others have, or by comparing, measuring, and complaining. It’s a pointless drain that subtracts happiness from your life.
Self-awareness, honesty with yourself, and a willingness to continuously learn and evolve are non-negotiable for a meaningful life. Without these, you end up repeating the same disastrous mistakes and reliving the same catastrophic relationships in a miserable existence, on an endless loop, with no hope of improvement. I see this in the same person who taught me lesson #2, and it is no way I would ever choose to live.
Value your dignity. Throwing yourself at men and begging them to like you because you can’t stand being single is just cringe-y and desperate.
Enjoy your children by respecting them as individuals. They are not blind to relentless lies, games, and manipulations. These behaviors render a toll that cannot be fully repaired.
Just tell the truth. Lying is ugly and cowardly.
Honor your obligations. Pay your damn bills. Oh, and don’t steal from your children or open credit cards in other people’s names. (Do non-trashy people really need to learn this, though?)
A sense of humor is a must. Someone who can’t joke around or laugh at themselves is no fun to be around.
Last but certainly not least: no amount of make-up or ridiculous photo filters will ever make up for lack of skin care and sunscreen!

I must say thank you to the people who offer up their life choices to model what happens when you refuse to learn from your mistakes. Even people determined to serve no discernible purpose whatsoever can at least teach the rest of us how not to be.

Holding Them Back

After 17+ years of taking the hour-long trip to Hickville for all of the kids’ events, my husband and I are not exactly disappointed that the need for those trips is quickly dwindling. No matter how many times I have been there, I find myself just looking around, shaking my head in disbelief and disgust.

Hickville is a small town, but certainly not in the charming sense. I am from a small town, and I have never seen anything like Hickville. It’s more like an inbred cult than a town. Small minds, big mouths. They are proud of their ignorance and tackiness. The louder and trashier, the better.

No one who cares about the kids’ futures would ever have dragged them to that town. No one who loves the kids would have forced them to try to grow and learn and flourish in a place like that, where enlightenment is scorned, and morphing into another mindless clone is the norm.

The only reason the kids were compelled to grow up in such a stifling, asinine environment is so that Psycho could spare herself from ever facing a single adult responsibility. She greedily refuses to stray from her daddy’s perpetual handouts, letting him think for her, coddle her, pay her bills, even offer up the shack she currently freeloads in. Over 50 years old, and she has never, not once, stood on her own two feet. It’s hard to do that when she lives shamelessly on her knees and refuses to be anything but pathetic.

The youngest child graduates soon. The kids’ opportunity for a decent, basic education is gone. They were forced to attend one of the worst schools in the state, thanks to Psycho. I don’t think they realize yet how much this has wounded them, or how much she doesn’t care.

Even worse is the attitude that leaving that wasteland of a town is some kind of crime. It’s like the adults in that town know that if kids leave, they will realize what a shit hole that town really is, and how backward and uncultivated all the adults are. So they smash their wings, suppress their ambitions, stuff them into whatever cages they can dream up to trap them there.

We attended an event at my stepdaughter’s school the other night. Looking around, I understood Psycho’s refusal to leave. She fully belongs there–a cheap clown in a dysfunctional circus.

Let her stay there and rot, then. But locking the kids up and holding them down should not make anyone happy. Not anyone who truly cares about them.

I hope the kids open their eyes to the entire world just waiting outside of that absurd joke of a town. I hope they find the courage to explore, to learn, to discover opportunities and experiences available to them if they just step out of that damn cage. I hope they are curious, independent, willing to take chances, and strong enough to build their own lives, freedom, dreams, and happiness.

Limping and Fishing

If this is true, then I am excessively educated! For almost half a year now, I have been plagued by either illness or injury. It kicked off with bronchitis right around Halloween, a hacking cough that persisted through Thanksgiving, a fun bout of flu over Christmas that I shared with my poor husband, and then a series of endless, odd injuries that have kept me hobbling, limping, and wincing.

Most recently, a clumsy accident left my knee swollen and stiff, and walking has been nearly impossible. I have steady relationships with ice packs and pain relievers, and a compression knee brace is my newest fashion accessory.

This past weekend, though, I felt healed up enough to venture outside with my husband. Yesterday was a beautiful day, and we decided to head out to the lake. Although he loves fishing, I somehow have never tried it, so he set up my new fishing pole and gave me my first lesson.

I admit, I did not expect to like it very much. Toss some bait into the water, then just stand there baking in the sun, sweating, waiting to see if a fish comes along…I didn’t see the point. But after I got the hang of casting my line, I can see how it is actually relaxing: the whir of the fishing line at it feeds out, the soft splash of the bait, then watching the rhythmic motion of the water as you reel the line back in, all the while surrounded by gently waving water, reflecting the puffy clouds and gorgeous blue sky.

I glanced over at my husband as he cast his line, and I could plainly see how much he enjoys fishing. He patiently showed me everything he was doing, talked about bass and bait fish and different kinds of fishing, moving his line easily through the water like he was steering it, and I could tell he was in his element. He was happy.

The first time that I tossed out my line, and it actually sailed out freely, smoothly, like maybe I knew what I was doing, I excitedly turned to see if he had seen it. He was smiling over his shoulder, reeling in his own line but keeping an eye on me, too.

He joked about me having a talent for getting the fishing line in a tangle, but he showed me (more than once…okay, a lot) how to free the line and get back to business. I think he really enjoyed watching me learn a hobby he has loved for years. He kept tentatively asking if I was done and wanted to leave, and he seemed so happy when I would say no, I wasn’t ready to go yet. I wanted to cast again.

I’m not sure why it took us so long to go fishing together. I’m just very glad we did.