Personal Filters

I've been thinking quite a bit about filters and the lack thereof.  In air systems they sift out dust and other "bad" particles so that our system isn't fouled.  However, in humans they can serve a dual purpose.

I believe we all carry scars within us.  They may be old, twisted remnants from childhood, or shiny new spots where divorces are healing.  Whatever the origins of our scars, one thing is certain; they mark where our own personal filters failed us.

There are lessons in everything that happens in life, if we care to look closely.  Reasons and lessons may present themselves in the present, or years later.  Enough scars on our filter teaches us self preservation.  We may isolate ourselves from those who would continue to inflict pain, perceived or actual, causing more scars.

When our own filters are faulty we may say things and wish we could suck them right back in.  Our anger may whip out at whomever is nearest, including those we love the most, providing them with a new wound to heal.

The problem is, it's a vicious cycle.  Humans filters work both ways.  If we are wide open to being hurt because our filter has many holes from wounds that have scarred over into hard places, this makes it easier to hurt us, and in turn, more effortless for us to hurt others.  Our filter is tough and the things we say may be hurtful without us even realizing it, or caring!  After all, the other person may need to, "toughen up."

In my own life, I've been told that I "wear my heart on my sleeve," or  am "too sensitive." I also learned that, he/she treated me that way because they "liked" me.  I never learned what it was like if he/she didn't like me.  It always felt the same.

Part of my journey learning to be a writer, and choosing to be happy, is learning that it's ok and acceptable to be me, with all my feelings.  It makes me happier to be around happy people, and something interesting is occurring.  I've seen some shiny, new strands in my old, hard, crusty filter.  It seems to be healing and regenerating.  The less I'm around hurtful people who scar my filter, the more my filter seems to function well around other people.

Thank you to those who are helping me in my journey.  Your friendships are invaluable.

Have a nice day!  :)

The Incredible Lightness of Being

My life is a MESS!  I have so many reasons that I could be unhappy.  Don't worry, I'm not going to list them.  Not only is it boring and redundant, I just don't wanna! 

I AM HAPPY!  And I hope that you are happy too.  :)

There's something to be said for happiness and being happy.  As a middle aged person, the idea struck me anew that I could choose to be happy.  I'm sure I knew that once, long ago, when summers were filled with riding bikes and swimming instead of work and driving.

And so I am choosing.  Every day.  It's been a struggle, choosing happiness, after letting the winds of fate choose my mood for years.  Yet I'm making progress.  PROactive instead of REactive.  I like it.

Try it yourself!  Be happy!  Those around you will respond the same way.  It's amazing how much our moods are reflected in the moods of those around us!

With everything that's gone wrong, I am so thankful for the things that have gone right.  When life was bleak, God took care of this family.  We didn't have more than we needed, but we had enough.  For what more could I ask?

:)

Happy Easter!

Long Hair and Writing Well

Maybe the reason I'm trying to write is to understand people.  Maybe it's because it's not something that comes naturally and it's something at which I don't feel completely competent.  Perhaps it's because someone once insinuated that I don't write well.  (actually he may have come right out and said that, I don't remember for certain)

I remember someone telling me once I'd never be able to wear my hair short because I don't have a long, slender neck.  I have a big head and my face is round and full.  I promptly cut off my hair and wore it short for years! 

Last year I grew my hair out longer than it's been in a very long time.  It was beautiful.  Naturally wavy and thick.  Perhaps he'd been right.  I had missed having lovely hair all those years because I wouldn't listen to what I viewed as someone else's criticism.

Then, a funny thing happened.  Life changed.  My hair felt too long for my age.  I didn't like the gray and the long together, and my fantastic stylist cut it back to a shoulder length for me once more.  I felt lighter and looked better.

As I read yet another rejection this morning, I thought about the place in life where I've received the opinions of others.  Sometimes I've been gracious and thankful and sometimes I've disregarded their thoughts.  As with my hair,  I am not defined by the opinions of others.  I can choose to wear my hair any way I want and I am still the person staring back at me.  Attractive, older, or too shortly cropped doesn't change who I am, how I wear my hair and how I accept criticism can change or not change how I feel about me.  It's MY choice.

I can choose to believe that I don't write well.  After all, I am not able to make a living writing and I'm not on the NY Times best seller list, or in Oprah's book club.  But someone reads my words and thoughts.  I am in the public library in the town in which I live.  And hard work and discipline are things I need in my life.  If this blog is all the futher it takes me, I'll learn to be ok with that because whatever else my writing is, to me it feels important.  And that's all that matters.

Opportunity and it's Aftermath

I've recently been thinking about opportunity.  We live in the United States of America and no-one can say we are not surrounded by opportunity, right?  After all, in my own family I have a brother who is a multimillionaire.  He came from the same humble beginnings as I and, despite some interesting beginnings, he's made something of himself.  How?  Well, opportunity of course!  An idea+someone to help him along the way=success.  WAIT!  He didn't do it ALL BY HIMSELF?  No.  And there's the rub.

I always think it's interesting when people who have never struggled believe they have the answers for those who are struggling.  It usually goes something like this: "You need to get a job."  "You need to live within your means."  "You need to be more like XYorZ (roughly translated to mean kiss someone's ass)"  They offer this advice without ever having stood on their own two feet.

I'm sorry, living with your parents, buying whatever you want because you don't have to pay rent, utilities, food, insurance, etc., does not qualify you to make judgements on my life.  When you have a real dose of what it means to support yourself, come talk to me again.

Also, if your family gave you a helping hand up, with a job or the down payment to your house, or paid for your college education, or still gives you money, don't think you know what it's like to be me.  You don't.

And that sounds bitter.  I don't mean it to be.  I'm so happy there are people out there who have had a hand up and capitalized on opportunity!  I'm so happy there are success stories!  Really!

To allay another common misconception, NO, I am NOT jealous of your success.  I do not want your house, job, car, husband or money.  What I do want is for you to understand that not everyone is you or wants to be you.  Some of us are ok with who we are, struggling, trying to help others find a way up and out.

I teach a class of college students.  The other day, one told me he bought a new car.  The student now has better, more reliable transportation than I have.  And I was so happy to have helped him get there.

I feel as if I need a "BEWARE" warning for educators.  I am the poor and disenfranchised.  I was educated.  And here I am, still struggling.  Are my chances of being employed better?  Yes.  And yet I'm still unemployed.  Some days I wish I were still ignorant and wallowing in all the bs that poor people are fed, such as, "Voting makes no difference, things will never change, so why vote?"

Here's my challenge to those reading this; understand who helped you get where you are today.  Thank them for that help, and then help someone else in the same way.  It's a big world out there, what would happen if we all cared about one another?

Business Practices

My daughter is getting married.  I recently lost my job due to budget cuts.  That means wedding budgets are tight.  Recently she interviewed photography studios, including asking about costs.  At one studio, http://iwantfx.com/, when she asked about pricing, she was told, "Perhaps we aren't the right studio for you."  Guess what?  They were right.

Who can afford to run a business this way?  The wealthy.  It may be a status symbol to those in the community, but I promise you, they will never see one dollar from this family.

I have a hard time believing I live in the same state, or the same WORLD for that matter, as the Governor of Kansas, Sam Brownback.  This man is bound and damn determined to ignore the reality of growing poverty across the state.  He has cut budgets and revised requirements for food stamps, is trying to pass legislation to govern medicare in the state instead of allowing federal oversight so that he can use that money to fund the state general budget, and is threatening to do away with early childhood program funding that is legislated to be used for specific purposes in the state.

Governor, don't you think you should perhaps find out who your constituents are or don't you give a damn?  Perhaps you're one of those people who believe that poor people should just go somewhere else?

For God's sake, educate yourself man!  Go to inner city Kansas City or Topeka and see what it's like!  Go to Southeast Kansas and visit the children who survive because their parents receive foodstamps!

Oh, and by the way, 90% of those families who receive foodstamps HAVE AT LEAST ONE PARENT WHO WORKS OUTSIDE THE HOME!  Yes, Governor, they are not all "sit on their ass and do nothing losers."  That's what happens when your solution to eradicating poverty is bringing in jobs that don't pay a wage that allows a family to live above the federal poverty level.

What are you afraid of?  That you might grow a heart?

The Turning Point

I woke up with Whitney Houston in my head singing, "The Greatest Love of All."(http://youtu.be/IYzlVDlE72w)  Not surprising given her untimely death and the fact that today is Valentine's Day. I've never really liked this holiday for what it stands for. There's always so much pressure to find the right gift, wonder if he'll remember, and if he remembers, will he do anything for you...Blah, Blah, Blah...

Here's what I've learned over the years that helps me get through "V" day:

1. He will wait until February 14th to buy me a card.
2. He will probably get me a box of chocolates that will blow my diet and be made by a company that uses child labor.
3. It won't matter, because he already has given me so much.

Yes, boys and girls, for me V day is not about flowers, candy or heart shaped balloons.  For me, V day is about GIVING love.  I treasure sitting side by side watching, "The Big Bang Theory," and listening to him laugh, much more than dozens of roses.

Despite the hardships of the last six months, today I am counting myself lucky.  I am legally bound to the man I love.  And THAT makes me very happy.

As for the rest?  I've long felt Valentine's Day was a turning point.  New life fast approaches from this moment forward; it's the doorway to Spring.  If I get one wish this V-Day, I wish that my luck would begin to change, starting now, with this first honest smile in months.

Thank you, Lord, for hanging in there with me.

XOXOXOX TO YOU IF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU'RE LOVED! XOXOXOXOXOX

Mortgage Settlements: If Only...

As I sat in my doctor's waiting room this afternoon and watched President Obama announce a settlement with mortgage companies to reduce mortgages, interest rates, and provide $2000 to those families who were unlawfully forced out of their homes, I was thinking of how helpful this might have been, once upon a time.

Some things in life are, "just the way things are." One of these is that poor people become the prey of those unscrupulous enough to see the potential for a profit in the hungry eyes of those trying to escape poverty. Before your brain becomes defensive, dear reader, this is not a rant against Republicans, or even against banks. This is a simple story, a true story, with a very sad ending. And I hope, a story that will further understanding for the necessity to have regulation of the banking industry.

My momma had very humble beginnings. Born into at least a third generation of poverty, she struggled to raise her six children, supporting them with the hourly wage of a practical nurse. Eventually the children became self sufficient and she was able to take advantage of a "rent to own" sale of a house. She was a proud homeowner.

In due time, she paid off the 30-some-thousand-dollar price tag, living with the mold caused by a basement that flooded annually, leaving her washer and dryer and anything else stored there floating in at least 4 feet of water. The reason for the unconventional sale of the house was apparent. The flooding was caused by an inadequate city storm drain that funneled water straight under her house. Of course the city refused to fix the problem. After all, where would an old woman get the money to sue them?

And so, like all houses do, her house aged along with her. Eventually she needed a new roof and new windows. There was no money for these expenses, the cost of living had risen at a much greater rate than her salary, and she felt fortunate that her children were now raised. Besides, her "disabled" husband took up much of her paycheck with his greens fees and his golf cart expenses.

But the roof wouldn't wait. A solution presented itself right in Mom's mailbox! She could take out an equity loan on the house, at a slightly higher interest rate, and fix the roof and the windows. How else would she ever afford the repairs? And so, she did.

But the payments proved to be a strain on an already tight budget. Add a credit card maxed to the limit from buying groceries at Aldi, with the interest rate at 32% from late payments, and she couldn't quite keep up.

Her husband, who didn't like his tee times reduced, came up with the solution; they would borrow against the house again, taking out a second mortgage. Seeing no other solution, and having no experience with such things, she went along with the plan, taking all the equity in the house, plus some, in cash, and agreeing to a payment equal to someone who financed a $100,000 house. After all, the bank wouldn't loan her the money if she couldn't afford the loan, right?

Not more than five years went by when the payments got to be too much. Bankruptcy was filed. The golfer sold her car and bought an old van for her to drive that was painted in, of all things, camouflage. And then, the bank started proceedings to foreclose on her home. The one that had once been bought and paid for.

About the same time, through a death in the family, she inherited a house in a neighboring city the total of which was valued at about $5000. This house was small. This house was falling in. This house had termites. This house needed new electrical wiring and had an old gas stove for a heater. There was no way her furniture and the things she'd carefully collected over the years could fit inside this house. And so she asked me, "If you were me, would you fight the bank, or would you move?" What would you say?

She was sick. So sick. And getting sicker. She was losing her job, her income, her health, and her home. And yes, I advised her to move. To get out from under the burden of that debt and move on. I wish I'd known then what I know now.

One day, she was so sick in the new house that she couldn't get out of bed. I met her in the emergency room and was there to hear the diagnosis: lung cancer. She died in that little shack, unable to go "home."

Did she make mistakes? Many. I fully admit there were many things that should've never happened and bad decisions. But I also understand that she became the prey of the greedy mortgage companies who profited from their investments that, while they were loaning her the money, bet that she wouldn't be able to repay it, lining their pockets, either way.

My sister now lives in the tiny shack, thankful that she had a place to go when she lost her own home to foreclosure.

Life is tough. No one ever promised we'd all get to live an easy life. You have to be tough, and wily, and have someone walking beside you to spot the snakes in the grass. Experience is a tough teacher. And that $2000 would do her no good now.

So why does the mortgage industry need regulation? What if this was your momma?

Mortgage Settlement Could Bring Billions in Relief

What The Hell Am I Doing, Anyway?

Now isn't that the question of the day? We all want the approval of someone. If we didn't, we wouldn't put our work out there. We'd never try to be published or post a thought, or a poem. We want to be liked, appreciated, followed.

The irony of the wanting, and perhaps the true lesson, is it's when we stop needing the approval of others that our true selves shines through. It's in the casting off of the aspirations with which others label us that our soul soars. For when the cloak of winter falls away, the flower blooms.

And in the sunshine of this new day, let the blooming begin!

Peace

Aging Gracefully

My youngest son plays tennis. From the very first time he picked up a racket, he looked like he belonged on a tennis court. Poor kid has two parents who are not athletic. His dad could be but I was born with two left feet! Despite my desire, and many attempts, I've yet to find a sport where I am actually competent. Therefore, I compromise.

About 10 years ago now, I started having lots of trouble with my body giving out. It didn't help that I was carrying around too much weight. So, I began to exercise. Anything that involves dancing or rhythm is really not my thing, but I found if I could do it without anyone else watching, I at least got a good workout!

Lately, I've been using Wii fitness. Pretty neat stuff. There's still a part of me that things I'm having too much fun for this to actually be good for me. However, I'm moving the moveable parts of my body and that appears to be a major component of aging gracefully.

Most of us have poundage that we want to shed. We look different, we feel different, we act differently than when we were young and svelte. But the truth of the matter is, fat is almost impossible to get rid of once it's on. For those of you who doubt me, try being fat for awhile. (almost is a key word here)

I'm not making excuses. It is what it is. What I would like to get across is this: I don't care how overweight you are, to live fully, you must move. And yes, that often means in front of other people who will laugh at you if you jiggle while you jog, or second guess your bathing suit choices. Doesn't matter. If there's something I've learned from the older ladies at the gym, it's we all age. Those of us who move more and care less about the pointing and laughing get to live longer, and be happy while we're living, one of the byproducts of exercise.

There are a few people I've been privileged to know that amaze me at their level of athleticism even into their 60's, 70's, and above! Although I'm not an athlete, I hope that the work I'm doing now will keep me from becoming part of the chair. Give it some thought!

Just Who Am I?

I was thinking about High School. Isn't it funny that you think you know who you are at 18, only to discover that you aren't that person at all?

I sometimes have trouble reconciling this person I am to that one I was. I don't even have the same opinions, and I definitely don't look the same. What happened to me?

Many of you are probably thinking that I grew up. Well, I hope not. I hope I still have some playfulness in me and have retained a childlike sense of fun. I hope I grew down, not up! How fortunate I would be if that were true!

I think, at some point after my divorce, I found what I had lost years before. I think I found my soul.

As melodramatic as that may sound, the simple act of living life according to the expectations of others can suck the life out of the strongest person. Years of unrealistic stressors and ignorance of, well, so much, formed someone that I didn't start out to be! I genuinely feel sorry for teenagers. They are under so much pressure!

These days, I have a tattoo, that no-one who isn't married to me will ever see, to mark the occasion of me coming back to me. It's a flower, which means nothing to anyone else but myself. It's a reminder that I cannot live happy and free while trying to be who I am not.

These days, it's all good.

I'm just me. Doing what I do. Being who I am. Living my life, and measuring my success according to the standards I write (present tense, they are revised upon occasion) specially for me.

And if you don't like me? I'm ok with that. And if you have more stuff than me? That's fantastic! Congratulations! And if you're more beautiful? I'm finding that women seem to peak in their 40's! (take note all you men)

The funny part is, no-one cares anymore. All that early worrying was for nil! I wish teenagers could understand, very early on, BE WHO YOU ARE! You get to be so much happier when that happens!

Do you know me? Did you know me? Do you know what I've achieved? Overcome? What will be? No.

The only one who knows it all, is me. The greatest gift aging has taught me is, there are motivators behind most actions and reasons for everything. And it's never all about any one person.

I love that.

Echoes of Life and Loss

There’s eloquence at the end of life that is only heard in retrospect. Meaning becomes insignificant, joy necessary as the curtains are drawn, the final goal attained.

The futility of seeking “why” is subdued, for a time, at the understanding that death never makes sense. There will forever be something else to do, something left undone. One more hug to give, one more wedding, or smile, or thought will always make a difference.

The gentle, comforting knowledge that we are not here to understand life and death, makes pain more bearable. We are here to live, as best we can, in the giving and receiving of happiness, thus the continual pursuit.

Smile! Laugh! Frolic! For surely, there will too soon come another day of debt when great clouds of gloom will block the sun and time will swallow life, leaving us to wait for the moment when we once again find meaning in a sunset.

My pain is not your pain. But pain it is.

My joy is not your joy. But share I will. For life is big, and broad, and full! And finite.

Hello New Year!

2011 has not been the best year for me, I admit. The day after Thanksgiving, I felt myself hoping for a quick Christmas so we could wrap things up and get on with 2012. I shopped online, finishing off lists as early as possible. We decorated inside, but skipped the outside lights. I stocked up on books and spent December in a haze.

And then, something happened to bring the past crashing back. My step-dad died. And I didn't know how to feel about it.

Honestly? I didn't feel much of anything. There were lots of not-good years and he and I weren't the best of friends.

And yet, I couldn't feel sad. When my mom died, so did any relationship I had with the man. The best I could do was feel sad because everyone should have someone who will miss him when they die. This was a new experience for me. Someone I had known, who'd been part of my life for at least 30 years, was gone. And I wasn't sad, or happy.

Then I got a call from my nephew. Over 30 years old, he was none the less crying. He'd lost his grandpa. A part of my heart expanded. Someone would miss James and somehow, that brought back his humanity.

I firmly believe that if you look hard enough, you can see the good in anyone and so, I cracked open the storeroom of memories and pulled one out.

If there is one song that always makes me think of James, Eric Clapton's, "Lay Down Sally," is it. When Mom and James danced to this song, he only had eyes for her.

The door is closed again and that's the best way to keep that room. Some things need to stay in the dark, at least for now. I hope that someday I'll open that door and there will be nothing but dust. And I hope that, like I'm doing for James, when I'm gone, the good things will be remembered.

http://youtu.be/9hQqP6RNnDE Rest in Peace.