Category Archives: Meeting life’s challenges

Apologies

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When this blog originated it was done with the promise, to you the reader, and myself that it will be posted every other week. In between, a quotation is offered that is in sync with the previous post. I have kept the promise but I am breaking it tonight.

I have felt fortunate that inspiration has always come easily. That is still the case but due to family circumstances I am unable to pull my thoughts together and offer something that would be cohesive in thought and message. I am asking you for a reprieve this week. I will be back shortly with blogs that most likely will reflect the knowledge and experience I am currently acquiring.

For those who reside in the states, Happy Thanksgiving. Never forget to give thanks for the good that comes your way, no matter the size of the blessing.

Pride Before the Fall

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Most people that know me well, know that my favorite place to shop is Kohl’s. Much of my wardrobe spent time there before being bagged and making its home with me. I maintain restrictions on what I buy. It must come from the clearance rack and I must be accompanied by a coupon for 30% off. I make no excuses and am proud of how far I can stretch my dollar. I had put my Kohl’s shopping to rest when I retired last year. I was no longer in need of an expansive wardrobe. With my new found freedom, I didn’t miss my shopping extravaganzas. I didn’t miss them one bit until I received a coupon for a $10 savings in an email. Like an addict, I relapsed and found myself headed to Kohl’s.

I have never been one to shop for special designers or specific brand names. If I happen to buy one, that would be considered an added bonus. Since I don’t live under a rock, I am familiar with top of the line clothing, which is why I was proud to pick up this exceptional bargain. I came across a Vera Wang sweater, marked down to a ridiculously low price. It was styled like a cardigan, only longer, and its thickness would carry me into the season of winter. With its neutral shade, it would match a considerable amount of my pieces. I even managed to find yarn in my stash that would make a lovely scarf to go with it. If one could be smitten with a piece of clothing, I believe that best would describe what I was experiencing.

Monday morning came and putting my usual attire aside, I dressed for the continuing education class I was enrolled in at the community college. I put my favorite pair of pants on and a new top that I picked up previously at Kohl’s. The pants are an odd color and hard to match. My new top went with them perfectly. Before heading out the door I picked up my new sweater and wrapped myself in what I felt made a stylish statement. It would have been perfect if I felt better but I am sure my appearance didn’t give away the struggle I felt I was having with my health.

After the two hours of classroom time, I was absolutely ready to return home. Even though I reveled in my new outfit I began to realize it was probably foolish to go out feeling that way. When I reached my driveway, I took time to gather what I had in the car and then stepped out of the vehicle. It felt as if someone pulled me from behind. There was no way to stop the inevitable and I fell backwards. For the most part I thought it was fortunate that I landed on my bottom. It did nothing to erase the embarrassment. There was a slight breeze and I watched my handouts from class escape my grasp and dance upon the lawn. At some point I realized my left elbow felt wet. Initially I thought I had managed to land in such a way my elbow had made contact with my lawn, rather than the driveway. It didn’t take long for me to realize that my elbow took much of the brunt of the fall and it was bleeding profusely. Yes, there were copious amounts of blood on my new top and sweater. After seeking medical assistance and being stitched up I was left to deal with a sore elbow and a bruised ego. As an adult it is embarrassing to fall but ruining a new outfit added insult to injury. The biggest lesson I took from this episode was I should never covet any clothing, even if that clothing bears a designer name. I will put my pride on ice in the future so I don’t have to put any other part of my body on it.

Cheated

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I believe in life after death. I don’t share that to impose my beliefs upon anyone. I do so to explain the basis of this blog and why, after a certain experience, I felt cheated. I believe in eternity and that life goes on in an energetic or soul-based way. I know for certain this is the result of being raised in a Christian home. In my case, the veil has always been thin and I know the presence of loved ones, those who have gone before, are not far removed.

I have had procedures and operations that had me flex my faith muscles and pray that I would be healthier when coming out on the other side. Never did I expect a routine examination to bring me close to crossing the line. There was a time that I hadn’t been feeling well and a friend offered to drive me to an appointment. The facility wasn’t close and I was grateful that I didn’t need to deal with the distance and traffic. Upon our arrival I left her behind in the waiting room and made my way to an examination room. I don’t recall exactly but I am sure I shared my recent health concerns with the doctor. At some point during the examination, I see darkness enveloping me and the room. Before all this darkness beset me, I faintly remember hearing the doctor ask me if I was okay. Without warning I went into sudden cardiac arrest.

While I was under, the doctor frantically called for a crash cart. He was new to this location and didn’t know where this equipment was kept. He began chest compressions on me to keep my blood circulating. My friend, still sitting in the waiting room, was aware that an emergency was taking place down the hall. In her wildest imagination she could not have envisioned that I was the one causing the commotion. The steps that were taken were successful. My heart beat was restored and I regained consciousness. As I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by a group of people that were not there when the darkness enveloped me. I felt stunned and awkward. I was informed of the events that took place and the group of people, staring at me so intently, soon dissipated.

Once totally revived I was given time to recover and become more alert. As time passed, I began to wonder if my episode could be considered a near death experience. It saddens me to think that my encounter only offered me a solo trip into darkness. My parents weren’t there to tell me I had to go back, there was no bright light, and there was no out of body experience. I felt cheated. Where was the warmth and love others have expressed upon their return? I do not have a death wish and am grateful that my cardiac arrest was reversed and I didn’t suffer any lingering effects. Still, I wonder. Did I not meet some critical threshold that would determine if I had almost died. I don’t want to think, when the reality of death should occur, that it brings a dark void. It goes against everything I have ever believed. Maybe this was not a test run and possibly my feeling of being cheated is misplaced. I don’t want to tempt fate and feel it is wise to leave this to be continued, hopefully far into the future.

Unconditional

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I have often heard if you want unconditional love, get a dog. I am going to ask your indulgence to also include a cat in that statement. Throughout my adult years I have had cats as pets. It’s not that I don’t care for dogs, I do and enjoy their company immensely. I have found my lifestyle was more compatible to sharing my home with feline companions. As I age, I look at my most recent rescue and realistically consider her possibly my last. I have had the good fortune for my cats to live close to two decades on average but I can’t predict what the future holds.

When I rescued Molly, my most recent, I didn’t anticipate any issues. Having multiple cats previously I always took my time to introduce the most recent arrival. This time, as there were no other resident cats, it should have gone easily but that wasn’t the case. Molly could be cantankerous and defensive. In a very short period of time, I learned she has severe arthritis and her front legs are swollen and bowed. She gets a monthly shot and a daily supplement but I think she may still have some discomfort. I have excused her behavior but at times I have referred to her as Miss Cranky Pants. As time passes, she has become loving and loyal. She has made it clear that I am her person and will often let others know she has no time for their presence in her life.

Molly refrains from hissing, growling and swatting unless she feels threatened. I don’t see this behavior but the vet and others have told me it still exists. The other week I fell while at home. As I writhed in pain on the floor, Molly began hissing at me. Recently, I had the need to call for an ambulance. As I struggled to stay on my feet without falling, Molly again hissed at me. When taking the time to think about her unusual reaction, I couldn’t help but put a human emotion to her response. After seven years, her former owner had relinquished Molly to the shelter when her health necessitated a move into a nursing home. It may be a stretch to think that during my times of ill health she might have recalled her former life and it frightened her. I’ll never know as Molly’s not talking. Maybe it was that or it could have been the result of her unpredictable moods. I do know that while I was hospitalized and my son and brother spent time at my home with Molly, she acquired two new nicknames. Calling her Pissy Paws and Molly the Mutilator is not the result of her providing pleasant, affectionate company.

I make light of Molly’s moods but I do take seriously that she has been entrusted to me for the best care I can provide for her. It’s not challenging like motherhood. In the beginning, when you are so tired, you still must find the energy to provide all things to this new little life you have brought into the world. The bond and deep love you possess carries you through a lifetime. Through the years, when my son pushed the envelope, he knew it would never diminish the unconditional love I have for him. It is unrealistic to love and be loved by all who cross our path, but to open our hearts to care and accept others should be something we all strive to do. We may be met with a less than a welcoming response, one that may be the result of previous experiences and disappointments. At least we will know that we tried. Caring for a temperamental cat seems easy in comparison.  I bet Miss Cranky Pants would even agree.

Three Little Words

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I bet you think you know where this blog is going. What usually comes to mind when “three little words” are mentioned? Yes, telling someone you love them is important on so many levels. We should never take for granted that our loved ones know how we feel. Whether it be your significant other, your family or close friends, one should never hesitate to share your feelings. It makes one’s heart feel good to speak it and oh so wonderful to be on the receiving end. I am extremely fortunate that those in my close circle say those three little words often and with meaning.

Now, I will tell you about three other simple little words that can carry empathy and healing. Those you share them with don’t have to be in your intimate circle. That is the beauty it carries with it. To tell someone “I hear you” is the most compassionate and caring response. No judgement, no rehearsed comments, nothing but a sincere acknowledgement to let them know they were heard. Often it takes courage to speak up and share something that is laying heavy on your heart. There might not be a solution and often you are not seeking advice but hoping that your words are received and truly heard to help lighten the load.

Recently I learned that someone I had known decades ago was faced with a life changing challenge. He lives far from where we were as teenagers and without him reaching out, his current situation would be unknown. He didn’t share this information right away and it took courage to finally decide to reach out. I was devastated to hear his news and I knew there was nothing I could say that would change his circumstances but I did let him know that I heard him. It may be best to say I heard what he didn’t say: the frustration and disappointment that was clearly evident and very much understood. When he, in turn replied, said he appreciated being heard.

I have a chronic health condition that is not physically obvious. Those close to me know but many who don’t think I am the picture of health. I have limitations and although I have learned to live with them, I would rather not have to be faced with any of it. I have mentioned my own health but there are so many other obstacles in life that encumber us. If there were ways to cast the problems off we would do it, but in reality, many of them linger. If we carry them for long periods of time they can begin to fester and it only adds to the burden. Sharing them in the hope that someone hears more than your words is like offering a little prayer. Please help me navigate to the other side of this. You don’t have to solve the problem, but accompany me along the way. Hearing, using both your ears and your heart, is the greatest of gifts.

Lessons

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It’s not unusual for me to go to a live performance by myself. I feel I am there to hear and see what is offered onstage. I don’t need company or someone to engage in conversation. There is a college within the region that has an excellent performing arts center. Although there are smaller, historic venues locally, this particular location is my favorite. They bring in high quality acts. I mention that I go solo and there is reason for my choice. Even after the tickets have been on sale for an extended time, I usually can find an open single seat close to the stage. It is so enjoyable to sit close enough that you can almost reach out and touch them and see the expression on their face.

Recently I attended a comedy show. Again, sitting close to the stage allowed me to see them as well as I would while watching television. I laughed so much that often I had tears in my eyes. The show seemed to go by so quickly. As the program ended, the lights went up and the ushers began to go through the aisles, straightening and cleaning. A couple, who had seats in front of me, decided at that time they would start a conversation. Being the social being that I am, I often engage in conversation with strangers. I anticipated a quick exchange that would send us on our way. I was wrong.

The man told me he had attended four Paul McCartney concerts. There was almost a hint of condescension in his voice as he told me that there were no concerts that could compare. I did not have the urge to share my concert history with him. The memory of attending my first concert still brings a smile to my face. I can recall the excitement of seeing Elton John in his purple sequins. I then realized that somehow the conversation turned from concerts to marriage. Did I miss something as a result of my Elton John revery?

He and his wife stood side by side, smiling at me. She appeared to be older, but some people age better than others. It was not my place to judge. I believe he stated they had been married for 25 years. He said he takes her everywhere. Again, his tone annoyed me. In my mind I thought his comment sounded like a pet owner who bragged about taking their well-behaved four-legged companion out with them. I envisioned a Chihuahua tucked in someone’s purse or pocket. I began to bristle when he asked about my status. When I admitted to being divorced, he had the gall to ask how old I was when I married. My gut told me not to answer, but I did. He proceeded to lecture me about the appropriate age to marry. I noticed his wife did nothing but smile and nod. Finally, good fortune smiled upon me and an usher asked if we could take our conversation out to the lobby. Silently I looked at her and mouthed “thank you”. She not only saved me from that situation but lead me to the side of the building where I could exit without having to continue to the lobby and risk any further contact with the couple.

My reaction was not typical for me. I was annoyed that after an evening of comedy this brief conversation robbed me of my light hearted feeling.  I have always enjoyed those random conversations where you can quickly find some commonality with another individual. I was not in the mood for a lecture from a total stranger. I never took my divorce lightly but twenty years after the fact I am settled into a lifestyle where I am content. I don’t fall into the black hole of would of, could of, should of. I questioned why this individual got under my skin and then I realized what the lesson might have been. I commented about his wife and her age. I claimed that I don’t judge, yet I did. Although I kept my thoughts to myself, I was annoyed by his arrogant manner and her appearance of timidity. I adopted the motto of live and let live, yet that evening it appears it escaped me. Rather than carry the aggravation of that encounter I will focus on the positive. I won’t stop talking to strangers but when I come across someone who’s lifestyle is divergent, I will be grateful that I have created a life perfect for me, one of independence and the ability to chart my own course.

Apprehension

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Decades ago, our country was told we had nothing to fear but fear itself. Fear can be an overwhelming emotion. It can make your heart feel like it is in your throat.  Fear can make you lightheaded and weak in the knees. Fear can also stop you in your tracks and prevent you from safely moving forward, figuratively and literally. Have I known fear? Obviously, I have or I wouldn’t be able to put words to the emotion. As my mother neared the end of her life, we had many heartfelt conversations. On several occasions she told me that she thought I wasn’t afraid of anything. I don’t know if she found comfort and pride in that observation or concern over me daringly charging ahead.

I can look back over my life and remember times when I felt concern about what tomorrow might bring. Some of those concerns appear so silly now. One that lingers, for unknown reasons, is the change in uniforms at school. I attended parochial school from kindergarten through my senior year. The elementary school went through eighth grade. When making the passage into junior high, or seventh grade, we were allowed to remove the top part of our uniform jumpers and transition to skirts. The nuns must have felt that we, as preteens, had earned the right to show our status by the change. I can still remember the apprehension I felt on the first day of school that year. What if my mother had it wrong and removed the top of my jumper in error? It was with great relief that I saw all my female classmates in their skirts, topped with a white blouse and finished off with a navy-blue tie that would cross at the neck. I don’t know why that experience has remained with me. Did I actually fear the adjustment of my uniform or did the thought of change make me apprehensive? Other than embarrassment, what harm would have come to me?

There have been other life experiences that have given me pause. I remember, during the last week or two of my pregnancy, looking down at my abdomen and feeling apprehensive.  Thought was given to not only the pain of delivery but the overwhelming responsibility I felt for raising this new life. Again, I wasted my energy by letting my mind go there. My delivery was easy and I consider my son my greatest accomplishment. Trials often appeared but there was never any choice other than to move forward. There are legions of others that have joined me in conquered those same hurdles. I have experienced divorce, the elimination of professional positions, purchasing a house on my own and the loss of loved ones. There was no time for fear and the only choice was to find a way to achieve what was necessary.

I am not vain or a braggart. I have done what I needed to do in order to get to the other side of a challenge. I look at my contemporaries and marvel at the courage and back bone they possess to have met things that have come their way. I revisit the naïve school girl I once was and how foolish it seems to have been concerned about wearing an incorrect uniform. Currently I don’t feel as if I am confronted with encounters that induce fear. A life time of experience has provided me with the skills not to concentrate on the inconsequential. There might be cause for apprehension while waiting for results of medical tests that were never anticipated but the loss of sleep doesn’t change the outcome. Our physical bodies are miraculous but time does wear on them. I might be a bit slower in my step but I will continue to put one foot in front of the other. Every day that I meet, breathing and upright, I consider a win. If apprehension creeps into my psyche, I feel a nudge that lets me know I still have work to do and I will confront it with confidence. It is nothing to fear.

Spring Forward, Fall Behind

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Some might argue that this blog is unnecessary as I am now retired.  I would take the stance that it is being posted as I want my voice to be heard, no matter what time it is.  When the clocks were moved forward one hour so we could “enjoy” day light savings time my life takes a serious turn toward lethargy.  I have yet to be convinced that there is any enjoyment to be found in this action.

First, I must offer a disclaimer that no research took place prior to this blog being written.  Google was not employed because, quite truthfully, I had neither the energy nor inclination.  I have understood that this change initially benefitted the farmers.  I see farm equipment behind my home operating with headlights after dark. I trust I was misinformed on this matter. The day continues to be 24 hours long. During the week someone shared that it was the grill industry that pushed for day light savings time. If this is true they were effective in their lobby efforts convincing others of the economic importance of grilling dinner late into the evening.  Someone should tell Thomas Edison that his invention of the light bulb was all for naught.

I will admit that I have known for some time that I am more of a sunset type of person as opposed to  sunrise.  When pictures of the glorious dawn are posted on Facebook I look and acknowledge mentally that I have not witnessed those colors across the horizon.  I consider myself fortunate to see the time on the face of the clock through my swollen eyes.  I am hard pressed to find anything magnificent or intriguing in the upcoming day when robbed of an hour’s sleep.  I do appreciate the vibrant hues displayed by a setting sun.  It has not been lost on me that I must now wait an additional hour to witness a beautiful sunset.

It has been documented that the week following the move to day light savings time is fraught with heart attacks and car accidents.  Fortunate not to experience this first hand I can empathize with those who have. It would be their collective voice that would make a difference in our plight. The remainder of us will quietly go out into the light and patiently wait for the signal that we are allowed to turn back the hands of the clock.  We will revel in the time we are given the nod to fall back, whether that movement is on a clock or into bed.

Microcosm

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Very often, in inclement weather, total strangers will gather together and share shelter in order to protect themselves. There might be some small talk about the conditions, but under any other circumstance, odds are they wouldn’t find themselves engaging with one another. I found this same psychology exists when there is a bus trip underway.

My vacations often involve bus trips. I appreciate someone else doing the driving and the door-to-door service makes touring relevantly easy. I recently returned from a trip and found the experience provided other observations beyond the group mentality. The bus company that I utilize has started to assign seats. I usually travel alone and have the good fortune to be able to spread out. This time I brought a crochet project and was happy to be able to have use of both seats. It is the luck of the draw who you find yourself sitting by as well as how far back your seat might be located on the bus. Soon the passengers will find some commonality and groups will form.

This particular trip was one that I had planned for an extended period of time. I saved my money and didn’t complain about having to pay the single occupancy rate. I feel having a hotel room to myself an enjoyable benefit. We were scheduled to set out on the morning of Black Friday. My brother graciously cooked for Thanksgiving so there was no hindrance in my preparation. My packed bags were placed by the front door as I crawled into bed that night. I set the alarm for 6:00 a.m. and felt I would have plenty of time to reach the bus by 7:45.

The next morning there was no startling noise to rouse me out of bed. I glanced at my clock and realized it was 8:00 a.m. The trip host had tried to reach me by phone. Her message said they could only wait another five minutes. I found I was in a state of shock. I returned the call, being as gracious as I could, although heavy with disappointment. I couldn’t reach the host directly. Shortly after, the phone rang again and I was asked if I was familiar with a location, far removed from my original pick-up spot. The bus was stopping for breakfast at a buffet and I was asked if I could meet them there within the hour. I loaded the car and drove through a total of four states to meet them. I managed to do it within forty-five minutes. I missed breakfast but wouldn’t miss the trip.

There was a certain amount of notoriety I gained as a result of my unique way of meeting the bus. Once I was onboard and settled, I realized I left my hearing aids and charger, along with my phone charger, sitting on the kitchen counter. I could live without my hearing aids but the thought of having no access to communication and pictures was troublesome. I soon learned who my people would be. The couple sitting in the seats in front of me lent me their charger. I charged my phone during the day on the bus and retuned the cable to them so they could charge their ear plugs overnight.

Although I looked forward to this trip with great anticipation, I found it was fraught with frustration. I have a chronic illness and I have learned to work with the limitations that it presents. For some reason those issues didn’t appear to me or translate to the challenges that would be present while traveling. I found, due to my limitations, that I would miss half of the planned events. Very often I found I was on my own as the group moved ahead through the scheduled tours. Not to miss any opportunities, I spoke with many of the locals and found the conversations enjoyable in their own right. My condition is not well known and even misunderstood by several in the medical field. Not only did the couple who sat in front of me lend me their charger but they provided understanding. They had their own personal connection with my condition. Although I didn’t keep them from any of the tours, it was clear they were watching out for me. One evening I fell and suddenly those who I was not familiar with came to my aid. Within the week the circle of my people expanded. I didn’t have to look long or hard for someone to sit with at breakfast or share a spot at dinner.

The microcosm of the bus trip and all the passengers showed itself, once more, to be true. Those in attendance shared details of their lives quickly and without hesitancy as the time together would be fleeting. As the tourists took their last steps off the bus it was understood that it would be the last time this group would be together. We would return to our own communities and our long time group of friends who had to learn who we are over time. As travelers, we have no friends in common and if stories were shared later, they wouldn’t appear to be personal. Like those who might gather together to shelter from a storm, we have all moved on. Although there was such cohesion for a week, the shared conversations, tours and meals will be relegated to history. Every so often, there might be a story about a traveler whose passage through four states was needed to meet the bus. In reality, I might be the only one who continues to tell that tale and not one that I would want to repeat.

Landscapes

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I happened to notice a house on the market. It caught my eye as it was located down the street from where I grew up. I can recall who resided there, so many decades ago. She was an elderly widow.  Her curtains would remain drawn and her house always seemed cool and dark. She was a tiny woman, whose overstuffed chair seemed to swallow her as she sat and told her tales. I would listen eagerly as she would recall how different the landscape was years prior. I was intent on learning what changes she witnessed in what we considered our neighborhood. With her description it was not hard to imagine what the route close to our homes looked like as a dirt road traversed by horse and buggy rather than the current paved road.  I always enjoyed my time with her. I never imagined that one day I would be the individual remembering how it used to be.

We lived on a road that was not, at the time, a major thoroughfare. The city limits were literally located across the street from us. As children we witnessed changes but they felt few and far between. Down the street a rundown gray clapboard Cape Cod was torn down as the land adjoining it was to change from pasture into a complex of multiple schools. One home on the corner of the intersection was torn down to make room for an ATM. On the opposite side there was a lovely brick rancher that was also to become history. On its land a convenience store was built. We seemed to take it in our stride. The farm down the street was sold. The field that once produced crops was to become a printing plant. In time, long after we had grown and moved on, the historic farmhouse would soon give way to be demolished along with the large printing plant. It was all replaced with a warehouse. The only thing that seems to remain unchanged is the spiral staircase manufacturer at the other end of the street. Could it be that we were the last children to make our way there and climb to the top of their display model that was erected at the corner of their property?

It’s not uncommon to hear residents complain about the local rural landscape being swallowed by new warehouse construction. Many of them are occupied bringing traffic and noise to a once docile environment. I notice many appear to remain empty. Built on speculation, they continue to wait for their time of activity. Many ponder if this type of growth is actually necessary and sustainable. I would imagine that the displaced wildlife population might wonder the same thing. Concerned with their own survival they must adapt to the changes brought by our economy. I wince when I think that I, too, might have contributed to this expansion due to my online shopping purchases.

Another change witnessed by those in rural communities is the proliferation of solar panels. Fields once farmed, offer energy as the new crop. Not to play devil’s advocate but they don’t seem to be as intrusive as the warehouses. They don’t hide lovely sunsets and once constructed there doesn’t appear to be an increase in traffic. I was pleased to see a herd of goats recently in one such field. Later along the fence line I saw a hawk. Maybe this is a more gentle way to change the landscape while welcoming the future.

Years ago, when I purchased my home, one great selling point was the farm field adjacent to my backyard. The first improvement I made to my home was to screen in the back porch. I have enjoyed the views and the privacy. Although I understood that a development of independent senior cottages would be built to accompany the existing assisted living residence nearby, those plans might have changed. A large sale sign, advertising the location, was erected. It has since been removed. I question whether the land has sold or if it was removed from the market. Either way, I have already determined what changes I will make to the back of my property to continue to enjoy the possible change in landscape. My rocking chair remains on the porch. If I find that no one comes to hear my tales of how it used to be, I might be tempted to continue to share them with you.