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Bit by bit I’m working on a post that explains the current situation. Of course, it’s not a simple situation, so completing the post is taking ti ⁱ i ⁱ i ⁱ i ⁱ i ⁱ i ⁱ ime. Detailing it is exhausting. I thought about posting it as installments, but I have a hard time compartmentalizing any given piece. It has to be all together. It’s just not something I can easily pop out right this moment. So please bear with me.

Details

Sorry, you all.

Setting up a new blog does require fine tuning, and I missed the “comments must be moderated” part. I’ve taken that option off, so no more delays with comments posting!

Shaken and Stirred

I’ve had to go underground. Anonymous. My previous blog was read by my husband and in-laws, so I couldn’t exactly let it all hang out without ticking them off or upsetting them. This blog is for my sanity. For my freedom of speech.

The title “Shaken and Stirred” signifies the state I am in after a year of financial turmoil. It has wreaked havoc on the marriage. I have constant heartburn. I can’t sleep. In fact, it’s 4am as I type this.  This is an awakening, and I do not wish to fall back into the coma in which my life was unfolding.

I am SHAKEN out of the stupor in which I’ve been living. I need to break loose of unhealthy habits, one of which is going with the flow. I need to use my head! Be proactive! This “take things as they come” mindset is quickly running me into the ground (possibly literally).

I am STIRRED to reconnect with my aspirations and to put them into action. Life is too short to sit back and watch everything whiz by. This year of grief has shown me that purposeful decisions must be made and enacted. If I never make efforts to be involved in what matters to me, I’ll never feel like my life has value. I am STIRRED to be better at this thing called being an adult. I want to be more mindful in all that I do. More aware and present. I want this to be a plan of action and not just some lifeless manifesto. My mother’s advice is to LIVE INTENTIONALLY. I plan to do just that. Or at least die trying.

Blog Trip

Haven’t had your daily dose of happy? Go now and read this post. Take the time; you’ll be glad you did.

Shauna, the Gluten-Free Girl, is a fantabulous writer. Whatever the subject is that she chooses to blog about, the reader always comes away with residual joy. In addition to excellent advice and guidance about living gluten-free, you will find that time spent reading what Shauna has to say is time you’ll spend feeding your soul. This woman is alive to the fullest. Shauna says YES to life.

If you haven’t already followed the above link to read her nominated post, GO!

Broken People

Working in a hospital can be heart-breaking.

A man lies in a hospital bed. His emaciated body is straight and rigid — feet pointed and arms supporting him as though it hurts for his torso to touch the bed. His skin is paper-thin, a mix of yellow and pale gray. His face searches for something, but the vacancy in his eyes keeps him from finding the answer. The permanent position of his mouth is half yawn, half “oh.” He has barely any hair on his head. He looks to be in his mid-seventies.

The man is fifty-three years old. He’s supposed to be sowing some mid-life oats somewhere, not lying in a hospital bed. Alcoholism has ravaged this man to the point of no return. He barely understands what is happening around him. I wonder if he still wants another drink.

One of my uncles drank himself to death. Literally. My childhood memories of him bring back the rotten smell that his body always radiated. He was dying for a long, long time. I don’t know what made him want to keep drinking, even when his organs began to fail. He had incredible talent with miniature woodworking. He had children and a family. No amount of love would have saved him from whatever it was within his own psyche that kept him reaching for another bottle.

If you or someone you know is affected by alcoholism, the links below are a good place to start the healing process. First must come understanding.

http://alcoholismhelp.blogspot.com/

http://www.rochester.edu/UCC/online/audit.html

http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/alcoholism.html

http://pubs.niaaa.nih.gov/publications/GettheFacts_HTML/facts.htm

http://csat.samhsa.gov/NACOA/family.aspx

Where’s the cheese?

Sometimes I feel like a little white lab mouse. Poked and prodded, sent chasing in circles to catch the elusive cheese. Lab mice are small.  Vulnerable. I feel that way sometimes. The suffocating feeling of being squashed under an over-large thumb — this sensation has haunted me lately.

Eleanor Roosevelt said “no one can make you feel inferior without your permission.” Certain intimidating or bullying behaviors are meant to claim dominance. I feel like I’m in the wrong for allowing myself to be bullied. I wasn’t taught, or never learned on my own, to be assertive and stand up for myself. It’s a slow process, learning something that goes against the grain of one’s nature. I try to please people by being agreeable; I ask how high when I’m told to jump. This behavior over the years has been my training to be a doormat for lots of people. I am making efforts to break the pattern. It is not easy to retrain whole thought processes.

Food is Love

Cooking. Creating consumable food or beverage(s) for others is an act of love. This thought didn’t occur to me until recent years. My husband manifests his love primarily by making delectably tasty goods on (or in) a dish. One Sunday night, I came home to a sampler platter of pork tenderloins cooked six different ways — the tenderloins, mind you, had been cut into small medalions. It was still too much to eat in one sitting, but everything was so delicious. Too, each version of pork loin was an adventure of flavor. Jack really communicates with food. He likes to create rich tasty things for the people in his life.

Sally posted a while back about how she and her husband, Dan, share the kitchen chores — when one cooks, the other cleans. In that post (to which I cannot link until an insurance matter from Dan’s accident is cleared — grrr), Sally put her finger on it: Cooking is an act of love. While you tend to details of putting a meal together, you think of that person or people. Sometimes life becomes cluttered with too many stimuli, and our minds race while we go through motions. Sometimes we leave out ingredients or cook a dish for too long, but even distracted cooking is a statement: I care enough about you to make sure you have a meal to eat.

Sharing. When a person has a death in the family, or if a major accident has a loved one debilitated, friends and family pitch in by providing food for the aggrieved family. This is one way that people reach out in love. Sometimes there are no words to assuage the pain of loss or injury, but food is a constant. It is a common thread for all people. Food can bring communities together and speak volumes when words cannot.

On a funny note, when I was in college, the popular way for guys to propose to their girls was to cook a fancy meal on their own and have an evening of wooing before popping the magic question.

Eating. It takes time to sit down and enjoy a meal with others. Especially if you’re with someone you care about. You take a bite, you commune, you enjoy the presence of dinner companions. Food can be a form of adventure. My husband and I were thrilled by several culinary experiences during our visit to Las Vegas in August.  We’re foodies, so each restaurant we visited was subjected to our unspoken and unofficial checklists. Food quality? Presentation? Balance of flavor, too rich or bland? Customer service? Atmosphere/Entertainment? There are many things that occupy our attention when Jack and I sit down together for many a meal. Not that we scrutinize when we’re visiting friends or family! And not every meal at home for us is gourmet; we’ve had a few mac-n-cheese or PBJ nights. The thing is, when you share a meal with someone, it’s a moment of companionship. A binding together of all persons involved. A social intimacy that cannot be avoided.

In a rushed society, eating on-the-go is ever more popular. Not only is eating fast food (especially in the car!) unhealthy physically, it robs us of time. On our own, a meal on-the-go prevents the slow-paced eating that keeps us from over-eating. There is no down time to catch up with the momentum of our thoughts. With others, not only are on-the-go meals consumed too quickly, but the companionability is shattered. Sharing a rushed meal has all the intimacy of passing someone in a hallway. Slow down. Enjoy yourself and the ones you’re with.

Saddam Hussein, Hanged

I have never had a peace about US military presence in Iraq. The search for weapons of mass destruction was a farce, and continued occupation has brought the unnecessary deaths of too many people, be they Iraqi, American, whathaveyou. It struck me as strange when Saddam Hussein was finally found. He was living in a hole in the ground with roaches and a few household items; his appearance was that of someone who had lost touch with himself.

All my life I’ve learned to value life. More to the point, death, to me, is a very serious occasion. To be responsible for the death of another human being is a profound charge. This man, Saddam Hussein, killed many without remorse. He used his people as human shields — seeing this on the news when I was a child left a very strong impression on me. Hundreds of thousands of souls have been extinguished as a result of this man’s reign of power. His actions were his condemnation.

Did he deserve to die? I’m not entirely sure. He needed to recognize his crimes against humanity before his death. Perhaps he could have lived the rest of his days in a secure facility, his room plastered with pictures of all the people who have been killed, directly or circuitously, by his command. Or maybe a television that only played interviews with all the families of those who were killed. Maybe a history of those who loved fellow humanity — Gandhi and Mother Theresa come to mind — and the affects these people had on the lives of so many. It would be a true brainwashing — a cleansing of poisonous beliefs. Maybe this type of attempt at psychological reform wouldn’t have worked; maybe he would have remained as stalwartly Saddam Hussein as he ever was. Maybe he would have thought himself a captive martyr to the end of his days. Maybe, but we’ll never know.

Hussein’s mindset was a result of generations of training and beliefs, but what kind of twisted logic severs a person so cleanly from humanity’s innate sense of community? It’s sad that power hunger can bring people to such insensitivity and disconnection. Assertion of power is in all levels of society in every part of the world. It is an infection of the human mind. It was Saddam Hussein’s reason for life and death.

so-called friend

It’s not really a friendship when someone is nice to you personally but cuts you down when you’re not around.

That doesn’t fly with me, nor should anyone put up with such despicable behavior. Life is too short.

Rainy Gray Christmas Day

The steady drizzle began sometime before midnight. The clouds have nestled themselves over Macon for the duration of their release of moisture. If anyone around here was planning to try out their new bikes or basketball goals, they’ll either have to wait or be wet.

This sort of weather gets a lot of people down, but I like gray days. They make everything seem more laid back, more cozy. Fewer cars are on the road, fewer people congesting store traffic. Rainy weather calms the noise and friction of life. It will be a relaxed holiday.

May your Christmas, wherever you are, be merry and warm. Cheers.