When Family Becomes Friend

I spent a large part of my formative years trying to convince myself and, much more easily, the world around me that I didn’t need people. I had a pretty solid armor. I trained myself not to cry (at least not in front of anyone) for a while. I thought being overly emotional made me vulnerable and I would much rather someone think me flippant or arrogant than vulnerable. It was protection. Or so I thought. In retrospect I kind of wonder why I thought I needed protection.

I was insecure, sure. Most teenagers are insecure and we all coped (and sometimes still cope) in different ways. Some cope with humor – if they’re laughing with me, then they’re not laughing at me. Some with self harm – be it cutting or an eating disorder. Some isolate – if they can’t find me, I’ll be okay. Some cope with confidence – mostly feigned confidence in my case.

I didn’t just do it with my peers though. I did it with everyone including my friends and family. I still do it sometimes though I am working to overcome this mindset. It’s the mindset that when someone walks into the room and I’m not in a safe, comfortable place, I immediately try to identify in what way I am superior to them. Always on the defense.

Please feel free to judge. It’s a nasty habit. Especially from someone raised by a loving, supportive family. I mean, yes, there were times that my siblings made my life feel miserable. And there are still moments when I feel like that twelve-year-old girl ostracized because she’d really rather dress up like the Spice Girls than get drunk. And while I have heard terrible stories of bullying in schools, I never felt bullied. I have always been a bit of a chub and though I never considered myself bullied, there are still a few choice interactions that are emblazoned on my memory.

The people I thought I needed least were, of course, the ones that loved me most. My family. I remember heinously vowing that if anyone died while I was studying abroad in Ireland that I would not be returning to the States for the Funeral. Then I cried over most of the Atlantic wondering if there was any way to turn back. Change my mind without losing face. When I went away to college my first semester – and I had said for years that I was leaving that town and never looking back – I cried after my Mom left from Parent Weekend. In the shower, no less, where my friends and roommate wouldn’t see me.

I tried so hard to push them away. To be Miss Independent. I saw them as an anchor weighing me down and I felt like I had to let go to be free. In an effort to sever those ties, I traveled. I love to travel – and for all the right reasons – but part of why I started was the freedom. A chance to shake off my anchor. I have never wanted to be babied more than when I was riding a train from Italy to Austria with tonsillitis. And when I was living in Colombia, I missed my family fiercely.

My Mom used to tell my sisters and I when we would fight that some day we would be best friends. I very much doubted this. I had absolutely nothing in common with them. My friends were my chosen family. Ten years later, most of those same friends have faded into happy memories that I keep up with loosely on Facebook and my sisters are my very best friends. We’re scattered across the country right now, but those ties, that ones I crossed oceans to try to sever, are stronger than ever. I share their pains and their joys. We love most of the same people. We cry and laugh and get angry on behalf of the other.

I don’t know when this happened. This shift in my universe. I do wonder if it happens to everyone. What I know now is that I can go far, far away and those loves of my life – my family – they’ll be supporting me throughout. They will still laugh and cry with me. No matter how close we live, our time together will always feel fleeting. And that living our amazing and independent lives doesn’t pull us apart – it gives us something to talk about.

I’m sorry for that armor that I built. I thought I needed it then. I’m sorry for ever doubting that I needed people. I was so very wrong. I’m sorry for all those people I loved and who loved me that I hurt with my arrogance or my pride or my hateful attitude. But I am happy now and I’m a better person for having known everyone I have ever known (okay, in fairness, there may be an exception or two).

I am a better person for every person I have ever hugged or had a friend crush on. For every person I felt a connection with – even if only for a moment. It might not have been the best me, but it was me and I’m a better person from having learned from it. Thanks for letting me become this person.

Good-bye July

August, please be merciful.

I don’t think I’m being melodramatic in saying that the month of July in the year of 2013 may have been the worst calendar month I have ever experienced. At least emotionally. It’s over. Today is August. Thank you for coming August.

I usually quite enjoy the month of July. It rides the jetstream of June which is undeniably the best month of the year. It starts with a bang – literally – with fireworks for the Fourth, plays host to the day of my father’s birth and ends with Harry Potter. It also has long, luxurious days of sunshine and summer is always a time for happiness. If by always I mean mostly because this year July did not bring me joy as it has in the past.

I said good-bye to two very influential women in my life. When July began I had two grandmothers. At the close of the month, I am without both of them. And while I can tell you without a doubt that they both lived full, long lives, it doesn’t stop the ache left by their absence.

My Nan fought a short battle with cancer. We knew she didn’t have much time left, but her decline was extremely rapid. One evening she was alert and chatty and the next evening she was gone. She’s been saying for the last year that she was waiting for the birth of my brother’s first child. His daughter was born forty-five minutes before Nan passed away.

Grandma Dillon had been sick for a while. She suffered from a major stroke over ten years ago, but in the last few years, her health began declining more rapidly. I was blessed to spend her last day by her bedside. She died the next morning two weeks to the day after my Nan and while her oldest son, my Dad, was undergoing major surgery.

They were both strong, stubborn women. And, though it’s rare that I admit it, I have a lot of each of them in me. I can be stubborn and opinionated and set in my ways. I love fiercely, but don’t always know how to show it. I can be critical and, though it’s something I am working on in myself, sometimes cruel in my criticisms. Nan blessed me with good, thick hair. And Grandma Dillon graced me with an ample bosom and blue eyes.

I fought with both of my grandmothers. I don’t think this is normal. I don’t think most people fight with their grandmothers. I did. And this wasn’t always wise as they could both hold grudges. And, as terrible as this may sound, in these last few weeks I sometimes find myself trying to focus on the negatives to avoid crying on my drive to work or breaking down in the check-out line. It’s easier.

I didn’t expect this internal reaction to the loss of their physical presence, but I feel distant, remote, and constantly emotional. And by emotional I mean always on the precipice of tears.

There are some things that I hope will stick with me though – good things. For Nan it might be macaroni and cheese, Shirley Temple movies, campfires, Bingo, Bob Evans, or the song You are my Sunshine. Definitely the song. And I’ll think of Grandma Dillon whenever I see beautiful flower gardens, fire ants, homemade biscuits, or smell the scent of Autumn.

Thank you to you both for all that you were. And all that you continue to be for every life that you touched while you were still with us.

Post Script: I don’t mean to make light of these losses and if my tone in any way suggests that then just know that we all handle grief in different ways. In addition to everything mentioned above, my niece spent the first week of her life in the NICU, my employer offers no bereavement leave, my transmission blew on my way home from my Nan’s service, and my husband still isn’t home from Georgia – where he’s been all summer. All in one month. All in a matter of two weeks, really. So, all things considered, I think I’m handling everything pretty well.

Spend Freeze

This summer I have been loose with my money. I didn’t go out and buy myself pearls or a diamond ring or anything, I just didn’t really keep track of how much money I was spending. In other words, I was spending more than I was saving and I am a saver by nature (at least I thought I was until this summer), so something has to change.

I have decided to send myself on a quest. A quest to see how long I can last without spending money on non-essentials. And, at least for the start of this challenge, non-essentials will include food and gas. I have a fairly well-stocked freezer and pantry and while I am bound to run out of fresh foods pretty quickly, I think I can last at least a week without even spending money on food! I also currently have two cars at my disposal – both of which have full tanks of gas. I didn’t plan this, it just happened this way.

Let’s call this a test of discipline and resourcefulness. The latter of which I generally pride myself on. The first of which I generally, well, lack. I do have some mad organizational skills though, so Step One of a spending freeze – catalog my pantry.  Just off the top of my head I know I have meals under lock for at least a week. And just to prove it to myself, I give you my dinners for the rest of the week:

Tuesday:
Breakfast: Waffles with honey yogurt/strawberries/blackberries
Lunch: Garden Salad and Veggie Soup
Dinner: Mexican Chicken Salad

Wednesday:
Breakfast: Honey Yogurt with granola/strawberries/blackberries
Lunch: Mexican Chicken Salad
Dinner: Shrimp & Pepper Stir Fry over Quinoa

Thursday:
Breakfast: Oatmeal with all natural peanut butter & plain yogurt
Lunch: Shrimp & Pepper Stir Fry over Quinoa
Dinner: Garden Salad with Grilled Shrimp

Friday:
Breakfast: Cereal with almond milk
Lunch: Garden Salad and Veggie Soup
Dinner: Toasted Turkey Sandwich w/ Salad

Saturday:
Breakfast: Omelet & Toast
Lunch: PB&J and honey yogurt w/ granola
Dinner: Homemade Cheese Pizza

Sunday:
Breakfast: Cereal with almond milk
Lunch: Homemade Cheese Pizza
Dinner: Pasta with clams

The truly amazing thing is that this list doesn’t even begin to put much of a dent into my freezer. By Sunday my palette will desire that I head out and re-stock my fresh produce with strawberries and blackberries and tomatoes and avocados, etc. It will desire this, but my goal is to resist until at least Wednesday when I can hit the local Farmer’s Market after work and stock up on some of these essentials.

Disclaimer? I have tried these type quests before and, honestly, they don’t usually ever go to my planning. But, I really seeking balance in my life right now. Something to really throw myself into and find some stability. And I think, more than my desire to save money or become more disciplined, my success will be spurred from my desire to exert some semblance of control over my life in a storm that seems overwhelmingly tumultuous.

Wish me luck! Or join me. Or make suggestions, of course.

One Month of Happiness

My birthday is next week. And since I knew it wouldn’t be a particularly remarkable birthday with my husband away and only just starting to really develop close friendships here, I thought I would amp up the special-ness by doing a little something special every day of the month.

It sounds great, right? Almost lavish and extravagant. And completely narcissistic to celebrate the day of my birth for an entire thirty days. But it’s not as though I went out broadcasting my plan (until now) and I didn’t try to convince anyone to gift me anything. Some of them were simple, like taking a long, hot bath. Or leaving early enough for work to get coffee. Simple, right? And yet, not so simple.

This may sound strange, but I found that I had to force myself sometimes to do things that make me happy. Like, buying a new pair of jeans – I had to force myself to do this. Even though having jeans with a working zipper and no holes in the inner thighs would make me happy, trying jeans on in a dressing room in front of a full length mirror did not sound like a good time.

Or taking time out to write an actual blog post. Writing them makes me happy. Posting them makes me happy. But there’s the television and endless amounts of crap on-line to fill idle time. Mind you, sometimes shutting down in front of the TV or spending an hour scouring Pinterest can make me happy.

And so, I have been thinking about other things that make me happy – genuinely. But that I don’t do for one reason or another. Like, having a clean apartment makes me happy. But I don’t really like cleaning, so it’s usually messy. Buying new clothes that fit and look good and make me feel confident makes me happy. Trying things on and really, just spending money, does not. Cooking. I really enjoy it. But the grocery shopping before and the clean up after – meh.

So, in conclusion, I have all these simple things that make me happy and would improve my overall daily life, but I don’t do them. Why don’t I do them? Because they take a little bit of extra work, time, effort, money or planning. That just seems so… defeatist.

I am happy. I can be happier. And I’m going to start being it.

Morning Meanderings

I love mornings. I think I had forgotten how much I love them. Waking up early, getting moving, facing the day with time to spare. I had gotten into a habit of sleeping in or watching television in the morning. That’s bad. That’s no good. So, I have developed some morning memorandums for inspiration.

1. Speaking of inspiration. Inspiration seems to be at its best early in the morning and late at night, but early in the morning you can write by the light of the rising sun. This will save on your electric bill.

2. Watching television early in the morning will do nothing to motivate you to get up and off the couch. And it will probably make you late for work. Most likely. From experience I can solidly say that it definitely will. And that next episode of The Office will still be on Netflix when you get off.

3. Morning coffee shop people have interesting habits that are fun to watch. Like the guy who orders a large iced coffee and a small iced steamed milk. I mean, he was wearing jeans with a button down shirt tucked in and a spiked hairstyle that even I knew was outdated.

4. The gym is open early in the morning. It is not open late at night. Therefore any time you make the excuse not to work out that you don’t have time in the evenings, you aren’t really being true to yourself. Be honest, you just didn’t want to work out. Don’t tell lies.

5. There are dozens of coffee shops in this town and you have barely seen any of them.  Ignore for a second how much coffee tears up your stomach and focus on the ambiance – and the delicious tea selections many of them provide. Plus, if you get up early enough to go the gym first, then the coffee shop, you could indulge in a guilt-free freshly baked pastry.

6. Breakfast is not only the most important meal of the day, it’s also the best meal of the day. So, wake up early to give your chance not only to make it, but to truly savor it. Whether it’s fried eggs, turkey sausage, grits, sliced tomatoes, and freshly squeezed orange juice or Greek yogurt with sliced strawberries and bananas sprinkled with almond granola and drizzled in honey take the time to be inspired by your morning fuel. And enjoy.

7. In the summer it’s nice to get outside, but sometimes it’s tough to beat the heat. Hello early morning strolls! Somewhere nature-y, of course. And after a healthy dose of allergy medicine including a pill, nose spray, and eye drops.

Seven is a nice round number, so I’ll leave it off at that. I feel lots of early morning posts coming on. Good morning Summer!