So, first I want to say thank you to everyone who has followed me and supported me through the life of this blog. You all have been wonderful!! 🙂
After ma died 18 months ago, I’ve struggled. Ma was truly my best friend and the ‘anchor’ I had in this world. At times I still feel like I’m just floating…not having that ‘home’ to hold on too. I stopped writing because honestly, it was too hard. Ma was so so much a part of this blog and when I go back and read some posts, it makes me cry.
When Terri and I were little, ma grew African Violets on a 1970’s shelf with a couple of grow lights. She was carrying on what has become a family tradition because gramma also grew and loved African Violets.
As I quarantined a few years ago, I started buying plants to gussy up my house and make it look like spring all year ’round. One plant led to another and through 4 years of trial and error…reading everything I could get my hands on…taking some online workshop/classes, I feel like I know enough to yack about them (I know…I can yack about anything… 🙄)
So…I created a new blog called Plants & Projects! I’m going to share so so much about everything plants…and projects too! And I want any followers I might acquire to do the same. I want us to learn from each and share with each other…a plant family so to speak! I know Terri will love this…after much begging, I convinced her to take 1 plant and now she has a little jungle herself. It truly is addictive.
I never realized I had a green thumb…I thought it was a bad thumb because I used to kill plants I’d get. But lo and behold, I have one…like everyone does. Trust me on this!
Anyhoot, thank you all for everything and I hope you follow me on my new journey. So many of you reached out to me after ma passed and I want to say how much I truly appreciate that. Truly. Susan, you especially have been absolutely, positively wonderful…I got through a lot because of you. I hope you know how much I love you!
So, it’s one of these weird ‘things’ that I’m struggling with and obviously a situation for which I have no experience. I have been dating a guy for the last 5 weeks and am crazy about him. But…and there’s always a but…I am feeling a bit addled because of my conflicting emotions.
First, I honestly don’t know what to call this guy. Boyfriend sounds sort of juvenile to me…when I used to say partner about someone, people looked at me askance and asked if I was gay (which always made me think about how in love I am with Lady Gaga😳)…when I say ‘Significant Other’, I think that could be near about everyone in my life since they are all significant to me…and the ‘l’ word (i.e. ‘lover’) makes me gag simply because it was ma’s favorite word and made Terri and I cringe every time we heard it 🤢. We staunchly maintain, even today, that ma never ever ever had sexual relations, much like Clinton’s stance regarding Monica Lewinsky. So, for the sake of brevity, I’ll call this guy ‘the guy’. Easy peasy. 😀
In any case, he’s bringing happiness into my life and he’s doing this during a time when I’m missing ma so much that it physically makes me hurt. And that’s the quandry. I feel like my emotions are a rubber band being pulled in opposite directions and no matter what side I let go of, I’ll feel that stinging snap we’re all so familiar with.
The guy and I have so much fun going out together. We already have a favorite restaurant and special things we like to do. Watching movies with him is a blast…particularly all of the ‘Rocky’s’ since we both know the scripts by heart. And without trying to cause him any disrespect, I will say this: my “Yo Adrian” is just a tad better than his. We’re both fitness nuts (shutty 🙄) and spend tons of time in the gym, plus we can talk for hours and never run out of things to say. But honestly, here’s the thing that makes him stand apart from everyone else I’ve ever been with: his compassion.
After ma died, I was quite taken aback by the fact that O’s dad and my ‘exes’ never reached out to me. Ma treated EVERYONE that Terri and I have loved very well…she was never not kind or generous or supportive. Ma was ‘mother in law’ to O’s dad for 13 years and to motorcycle ex for 10; for them to not acknowledge her was rude and uncalled for. Plus, she always was amazing to men I dated that she pretty much abhorred…simply because I loved them at the time. Terri and I are always saying that ma was truly a class act.
The guy never knew her but has listened to me cry…vent…reminisce. He’s looked at umpteen pictures of her and sat through the stories that are behind all of them. And every single day, he texts me in the morning to see how I slept and if I’m feeling good about the day or not. It’s very different for me to have someone be that concerned about my emotions (in terms of guy…not my family!). One time I was telling him how amazing ma genuinely was and started bawling. After blowing my nose on his t-shirt (which actually makes him even that more attractive to me since it’s my mucus on his workout gear 😐) I apologized for yet another cry session. And here’s what he said: “Kristi, If I were to go into your kitchen and spill some milk, would you be mad? Would it be OK?” I was perplexed by the randomness of this and the thought of him being a ‘bit off’ briefly crossed my mind. I said: “Well of course not…I’d just mop it up with you.” Then he said: “Should I beat myself up over having had an accident?” And I said: “No! It happens to everyone.” And he said: “right.”
He told me how it was OK to ‘spill the milk’ – to break down and to be sad and angry and confused and everything else I’m feeling about my mom. He said that of course it happens and apologies aren’t needed…he just wants to be there to help ‘mop up the spill.’ In other words, he doesn’t want me to ever be sorry for mourning ma. Is he a winner or what? 🙂
But honestly, it’s the start of something new and I do feel guilty when this happens. I realize my situation is different from most relationship ‘starts’ and that I’m walking into something with a heart already shattered, but feeling bad at a time when I would normally feel good in a relationship makes me think I’m doing something ‘wrong’ to him.
However, we have the flip side. He makes me laugh…really laugh…and smile and whistle and hum…all of the things I always used to do before last August. And the problem? Feeling guilty for not being sad all of the time over ma. How can I laugh and joke when ma died? How can I ever allow myself to feel good things when the worst thing in my world has happened? Am I dishonoring ma by having this positive in my life? Am I not grieving for her as deeply as I should?
So no matter what, I feel bad. I feel bad when I’m happy in terms of disrespecting ma…and I feel bad when I’m sad in terms of burdening the guy. It’s a catch 22 at it’s finest. But I also know this, ma wants me happy. She wants Terri happy. In fact, that’s really all she ever wanted in her whole life…for us to know we were loved and that no matter what, she’d be there cheering us on in whatever we chose to do.
I talk to ma every night. Actually, I talk to her throughout the day but nighttime is our special time. After I talk to God, I look out my window and say “Hey ma” (the beginning of all of our phone conversations 😔) and chat about my day, and I swear I can hear her holding up her end of the talk. The loneliness I felt after she passed was horrible and having to grieve alone in my house with only Edward to hug wasn’t easy. So, I started asking her this: “Ma…you’ve always known what’s best for me. If you come across someone that you trust will be good to me, let me know.” I also asked her to get God’s input as well.
After about a month of this, I was compelled to check out a gym I had never even considered going into before. I swooped in the parking lot and was actually wondering why in the hell I was there. It’s more of an ‘old timee’ gym with no fancy frills – just weights, machines, sweat and tears…much like Mick’s gym (that’s a Rocky reference.). It wasn’t me. I like color coordinated walls with matching machines…carpet runners…fancy schmancy locker rooms…and people who look like they stepped out of Shape magazine. Instead I saw real people working out and a camaraderie I had never experienced in any gym before.
Then the man behind the desk asked if he could help me, and when he did this, he smiled. At that moment, I smiled…truly smiled…for the first time since August 2nd. After we’d gotten close, he said something that really resonated with me: he said that I bring him peace (ok ex-partners, quit rolling your eyes in case they freeze that way 🙄). I realized that I was at peace with him too. There are no games. No insecurity. No nervousness. No distrust. For the first time in a very long time, there’s peace within me too.
And maybe that’s why he was the one that entered my life. When ma was dying, she told Terri that she wanted me to be OK and for Terri not to worry. In other words, she wanted us to have peace in our lives. To have contentment. To have security. She wanted us to have exactly what she had always given to us herself. I know Terri has this with Dan and to be experiencing this with the guy is a gift right now.
So, our local tornado siren is going off RIGHT NOW and I’ve been instructed by Alexa to go to my basement. Instead, I decided to open my front door and watch the sky while typing this on my couch with my camera handy. I’ve always been a rebel.
Now, I know what type of damage a tornado can havoc and I’m not dismissing it’s severity…after all, I’ve experienced such weather 3 times and each was so scary! But I’m also going to come clean that getting a pic of the ole funnel that will be shown on our local news station that 23 people watch would be worth the danger. 🙄
I’m sure these books provided ample protection.
Anyhoot, the first time in my tornadic activity history was when Terri and I were in grade school. I was in 2nd grade and Terri, who is my OLDER sister, was in the 5th. The sirens went off and we had to get in the hallways and crouch down with our arms over our heads next to wooden benches that were neither attached to the floor or heavy. But, I knew I’d be safe: I weighed 50 pounds and my arms were the size of chopsticks. The tornado touched down some distance from the school and once the sky was clear again, we were dismissed. Terri and I walked home where ma was vacuuming. We said: “Mom…there was a tornado!” And ma said: “There was? I’m just cleaning house.” Good thing that’s what she was doing…after all, if it had gone up like Dorothy’s, at least the toilet would be shiny. 🙄
My favorite part of Girl Scouts!
The second time was when I was in Girl Scout camp and ma was one of the parents to go with my troop for an overnight camp out. Neither ma or I liked camping since we had to use tents, sleeping bags, latrines, and a fire pit to cook over all while dealing with bugs and other forms of wildlife. Needless to say, we were psyched for this experience. We were sleeping in our tents when the sirens went off, and the only ‘safe’ place was the freaking latrine where my troop squeezed together in order to fit in it while trying to force the door closed. Ma was crying…I was crying…the leaders were crying…and my fellow troop members were crying. In the latrine. That smelled. While the wind whipped around it and we could hear branches toppling down on top of it. Yes, we survived, and yes, we swore to each other that we would never ever ever ever go camping again. 😳
The 3rd time was when I was at the Denver airport. My friend and I presented at a conference in Park City, Utah…a BEAUTIFUL place where I want to go back too…and we had a layover in Denver. If you haven’t had the pleasure of ever being there, the Denver airport is a cluster-fuck and the 3rd busiest airport in the world. It’s humongous with signs that you need a degree in rocket science to understand, and when the announcement came over the speakers saying a tornado was ON the runway, everyone in the airport ran to the stairwells. Let me repeat that so you can now picture this even more dramatically: EVERYONE IN THE DENVER AIRPORT RAN TOWARDS THE STAIRWELLS AT THE SAME TIME.
My friend and I made our way to one and we were scared…not just of the tornado but because we were scared of being crushed in the stampede. But once in the stairwell, it was kind of nice because everyone started talking and honestly, being in that melee was sort of worth it since we met some interesting people. Go figure.
Then, in 1996 when O, his dad and I lived in Kansas, a tornado touched down in ma’s neighborhood and caused extensive damage. Her house had some siding come off, etc. but she was a street away from the major hit. She was actually vacationing with her ex (I’m not going to cuss…I’m going to restrain myself…) in Belize and happened to be watching CNN where they (that fucking bastard…there…I had to say it…).saw their neighborhood and a shot of their house on the national news…ma said it was surreal.
So sad…
O and I had already been booked on a flight to visit ma and we arrived just days after this wreckage. I tucked him in his stroller and we wheeled around the area; it was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. Truly. To see the houses that I grew up around…had sleep overs in…had played in…completely razed was just indescribable. These were nice houses and our neighborhood prided itself on keeping the area tidy. I simply couldn’t imagine the devastation of losing not only your home but practically everything in it. People were climbing through the rubble trying to salvage as many personal items as they could with news cameras shoved in their faces, and I have never cried so hard. Side note: Hillary Clinton visited the area (Bill was president – “I did not have sex with that woman”) because it was so awful, and it’s still the worst tornado ever seen in Illinois. Actually, there were 2 tornados over a 2 day period and so much more damage to other homes and businesses throughout the city. Overall, there were 74 injuries, one fatality, and the damage estimates were in excess of $100 million. I’ll never forget that sight.
So, am I respectful of the weather? You betcha. Whether it’s blistering heat…white-out blizzards…hurricanes…lightening strikes…we are truly at the mercy of the skies and rich or poor, we all live under the same heavens. Once when O was just a little guy, the tornado sirens sounded yet again and his dad and I rushed him down to the well under the stairs. I put O under me and covered him with my ample bod (I was still losing the baby weight…he was around 7 😐) and then B laid over me. We were in the middle of the country and the funnel was just a few acres away. It passed without ever touching down and as we all got up, I was crying…just the thought of losing my family was too much to bear. O hugged me (back then, he still loved hugging on his mama 🙄) and said this: “Sometimes God just does this to show who’s boss.” Hmmm…I think God shows us his ‘bossiness’ in a lot of ways but O had an excellent point. Sometimes we do need to be reminded that there are a lot of things out there so much bigger than we are.
So, I looked at my post from last New Year’s Eve where I talked about things I wanted to do. I was going to write about what I accomplished and what I failed to do, but I changed my mind. Instead, I want to figure out what’s really important to me and how I can live 2023 in MY best way possible.
I know I’m going to miss ma…and I know this will never end. However, this year is going to be full of difficult firsts: Valentine’s Day, ma’s birthday, Mother’s Day, Easter, Memorial Day, etc. And it’s also going to be hard to see spring come out all over when ma looked so forward to it. She loved walking with her friend and they loved getting out in the sun after a crummy winter.
And this winter hasn’t really started here in good ole’ Illinois. It’s 50 degrees (I don’t know how to make the ‘degree’ circle 🙄) right now and this warm trend is going to continue a bit. But then it’ll hit – January and February with dismal days, pretty snow that quickly turns to gray slush, and getting that cooped up feeling that always seems to really rev up after New’s Years.
However, ma loved winter and Lord knows she told me time and time again. There was nothing she liked better than getting into her bubble bath (from which she’d sometimes Facetime me…I’m still trying to heal from that 😳), slathering on her Bath and Body lotion she got when they were on sale – 3 for the price of 1, getting her jammies on that she invariably got from Kohl’s…but only if she had a 30% off coupon, and then sitting in her chair while either playing on her iPad or cross stitching while watching a show she’d describe to me the next day in great detail.
When I think about it, ma truly did try so so hard to make the best of everything. Terri and I were talking the other day about things ma told us when she was dying, and she said how she always tried her hardest with us. In fact, she said that a few times…and we don’t know why. She did her best for us…always…and we wonder if she didn’t think it was enough. So, let me put that to rest: “Ma. It was more than enough.”
And that’s all any of us can do, isn’t it? Try our best. Sometimes I think New Year’s causes us to not only look back at the year…but at all of our years. I’ve done a lot of crap I regret…as a mom, a wife, a girlfriend, a professor, and a friend. But I tried. I tried always to do my best in the situation I was in.
But you know, sometimes it’s hard to know what ‘best’ is. I struggled with that when O was a little guy. When he would have trouble at school, I’d struggle with whether or not I should intervene or let him stand on his own 2 feet. When he’d be naughty, I’d teeter between punishing him or hugging him since I knew he had to be upset about something. No matter what choice I made, I did my best.
Hmmmm. What’s best for us? You? Me? Is it pleasing others? Is it always putting other’s needs ahead of our own? Is it doing what is expected so it will be accepted? Is it lying and disregarding our own beliefs so we won’t be challenged on them? Is it making sure we put on our happy faces to make others comfortable when in fact, we want to cry?
Here’s the thing. When we always do what’s best for others…it’s often sacrificing what’s actually best for us. And that can cause resentment, emptiness, anger at ourselves for not seeing ourselves as a person who deserves the effort we put into others.
I’m not talking about selfishness. I guess I’m simply talking about being more attentive to our needs. Being more understanding. Being more forgiving. And I think I want to really focus on this in 2023. I want to always try my best for others…of course I do! But I also want to be more cognizant of making sure I’m in that equation as well. If others deserve that effort from us…shouldn’t we focus it inward as well?
I think ma would like this. She always tried her best in everything and for everyone, but after her divorce, she learned to try her best for herself too. She did things that made HER happy. She ate what SHE was hungry for. Decorated how SHE wanted. Spoke what SHE thought. And you know, it was amazing to see this in her. It never…ever…took away from what she gave her family. In fact, it added to it. She was content in her life…and that had a positive effect on us all.
Happy New Years, peeps. Thanks for spending a 3rd year with me in this blog and thank you for your kindness over these last few months. It truly means the world to me. Take care of yourselves this year. Work on making YOU happy. And remember that in terms of value, you are just as important as anyone else…and deserve to be treated that way.
So, a couple of people shared a post about Christmas and loss and it really hit me. Terri and I are struggling so much this week…ma loved Christmas and she always made it so nice for us! This post helped me to understand that it’s ok to grieve a loss on any holiday and also that none of us are alone. Here’s some of what the Facebook post said:
“So I would like to remind you that there are people for whatever reason are not looking forward to Christmas. Some people are not surrounded by large wonderful families. Some of us have problems during the holidays and are overcome with great sadness when we remember the loved ones who are not with us any longer. For many it is their first Christmas without a particular loved one and many others lost loved ones at Christmas. And, many people have no one to spend these times with and are besieged by loneliness. We all need caring, loving thoughts right now.”
Isn’t this a great message? It’s so easy to get caught up in the shopping, wrapping, decorating, planning, baking, cooking, etc. that we sometimes lose sight of what Christmas should really celebrate. What the true meaning really is. And how for many, Christmas isn’t always a joyous season.
For years, ma had a tradition for me and Terri: we’d go over the day after Christmas and ma would cook a big pot of chili. She took so much care in buying us special gifts and always had a new quilt for us! Terri and I loved spoiling her too…watching her open her presents was always fun and she’d say: “Oh! I’ve always wanted one!” or “Oh! I’ve been needing one!” or “Oh! You made this perfectly!”
Ma, Terri and Dan ready to eat chili last Christmas!
Last year was the best Christmas we ever had with her! It was just me, ma, Terri and her hubby (Dan) and we wore comfy clothes and cozied up inside her house. We yapped and opened presents and lolled around and had a great dinner with so many laughs. It was relaxed and happy and special and I’m wondering if maybe the day itself was the real gift given to us.
I’m guilty of losing sight of what Christmas really means. The hoopla is great…but that’s not really Christmas. It’s not really the reason the day is celebrated. It’s not really the reason we all gather together and show our love for one another. Of course I celebrate Christmas with all of the fun, but I also try my very best to take time to remember that it’s the birth of my saviour, Jesus Christ, that makes it what it is. And this is what I’ve been thinking about all week.
Me and Terri last Christmas…ma loved this pic!
Terri and I no longer have our ma to be with on a day she cherished with us. And it hurts. So fucking much (sorry ma😳). But I’m also realizing that we aren’t alone in this. God gave us his son to show his love for us. His want of us to be with him forever. He did this so we’d always have the comfort of knowing that no matter what’s happening in our lives, Jesus is there. Sometimes we lean on him, sometimes he carries us, and no matter what, he’s always willing to relieve us from our burdens…if we just ask. He surrounds us completely and it’s comforting to know I’m truly never…ever…alone. And I need to remember that. Especially now.
Ma and I always went to Texas for Christmas when O lived down there!
I think I have a ‘childish’ view of heaven: I believe it’s what YOU want it to be. Heaven is our eternal glory. Our eternal happiness. Our eternal joy. It’s going to fulfill what our wants are. So on Christmas day, I think ma, grandma, and grandpa are going to eat a lobster dinner (it’s free in heaven🤔 ), open presents that make them laugh, and remember the times we were all together on earth. Then they’re going to look down on me and Terri and our families and know that we’re going to be OK. That we have Jesus’s arms around us. And that one day, we’re going to have chili with ma again. Until then, I’ll cry over the memories, laugh at old pictures, and thank God over and over for having given Terri and I the gift of his son. And the gift of a ma that is missed so much.
So, people tend to make their loved ones into saints after they pass, and I’m hoping my son does just that…someday. But you know, we don’t get ‘better’ after we die…we’re the same flawed, perfectly imperfect person we always were. And spinning new tales about acts the person performed that would rival changing water into wine is probably not a fair thing to do. However, having to chase Edward down the street in the snow…while wearing a nightie and crocs…screaming at the top of my lungs…and only slipping and falling twice before grabbing the little shit is pretty durn close. 🙄
Anyhoot, ma had flaws. Yes she was amazing and kind and sweet…but…she was also a horrible loser, snarky, opinionated, and stubborn as a mule. On a side note, we were talking about our less than perfect traits one day and I said “Ma…what are mine?” And she looked at me and said “I can’t think of any!” So, ma is a bit of a liar too! In fact, she also announced that I was the best singer in the family at a Christmas dinner a couple of years ago. This made my oldest nephew literally choke on his candied pecan, and I thought performing the Heimlich maneuver was going to be necessary. However, calling me the ‘best singer’ in the family is akin to saying I sound less like crap than everyone else. 🤔
When my great-nephew introduced his adorbs girlfriend to ma, he said this: “Be careful if you play a game with Grandma…she doesn’t like to lose.” From the mouth of babes. I remember when ma, pop, my grandparents and aunt were playing Tripoly one Christmas at grandpa’s kitchen table. My family LOVES playing card games and when there’s pennies involved, it becomes quite intense. Ma had a winning hand: a Jack, Queen, King AND Ace of hearts. This would have let her win a bunch of small pots of pennies (for a grand total of $.79 – it was to be a down payment on a new car 🙄) on the board and the look in her eyes terrified me. As everyone else was playing their turn, the daggers were being aimed and ma was literally shaking. My grandpa was sitting next to ma and he played his LAST card and won the pots! Ma got nothing and her cards were worthless. I have NEVER seen such a horrifying look on a face in my life. Never. And, if memory serves, she was mad at gramps for years. When ma would lose, her eyes would get squinty, her face red, and her mouth would materialize into a perfect straight line (me and Terri have perfected this look😐). However, the best part about her losing was always asking her if she was mad. “Ma…are you mad that I won and you…basically…lost?” “NO, Kristi. I am not mad.” Ooooookkkkkaaaaayyyyy!
When I went to my weekly Sunday lunch, we’d always play a game called Five Crowns. There’s no money (i.e. pennies) involved…just bragging rights. Ma kept score (I always double-checked it😏) and I usually won 80% of the time. Don’t be too impressed, this has very little to do with skill…it’s basically the luck of the deal. I usually left ma’s with her having that “look” and me skedaddling as fast as I could. Once ma won and just to be a snot I said, in my most serious voice possible, “Ma…I let you win.” Holy crap! I have never seen her face redden as fast as it did…even when my 17th birthday party at the house turned into an alcoholic free for all. She said: “You. Did. Not. That was all me.” Trust me, I never said it again.
And snarky? Hmmmm…how do I put this delicately and in a way that honors ma’s memory and sheds a positive light on her: she was a snarky little shit. And the fun part about her snarkiness was the way she’d say things: “Well, Kristi…we’re just a bit bitchy today, aren’t we?” Translation: “Well, Kristi…if you don’t stop bitching about everything going on and ragging on my cooking and predicting yet another card win, I will throw you out on your ear.” You get my drift.😳
In fact, Terri and I laugh over what ma said to us when she was in the hospital. She was getting to the point where she couldn’t speak so anything she said was special. Meaningful. Insightful. Something to be remembered and treasured. So I was sitting in the recliner (that fake leather recliner that’s in every hospital room in the country and that only 2 people on the face of earth find comfortable), holding her hand, and working on some class stuff on my iPad. Her fingers squeezed mine and I looked over at her and she leaned her head towards me. “Ma…what do you need? Are you in pain?” “Kristi. Don’t ever dye your hair that color again.” Got it.
And then Terri got her own last snark. My sister is a go-getter, someone who never procrastinates, and is more organized than Martha Stewart has ever been. She took care of all the paper work and other issues (insurance, billing, etc.) at the hospital and did so splendidly. So one day Terri was with her and ma opened her eyes and looked at her. She said: “Terri, I need you to do something for me.” “I’ll do whatever you need, mom.” “Wow. You’re easy to get along with now, aren’tcha?” 😐
Stubborn? Well…she was actually a fucking (sorry, ma🙄 – old habits are hard to break ) mule. By the way, if Terri is reading this right now, she’s nodding so hard that she will have a pulled tendon in her neck. Ma’s favorite phrases in terms of her stance in things are: “No.” “You’re wrong” “I’m right” “We’ll just see about that.” And my personal favorite (which includes some snarkiness…a double-header): “Whatever you say…you’re the one that’s always right.” Sheesh. I guess stubbornness is tied to being opiniated as well…which I actually see as a plus too. Ma would take a stance and be loyal to it.
But there was a downside as well; like insisting the lane she swooped over to one day when we were out running errands was a turn lane…which it wasn’t and which is what I told her. (She only drove on this road for 60 years). Her response to me getting whiplash as she plowed her way down the street: “They must have changed it.” Yes, ma. Overnight some elves re-did the entire street with newly painted arrows that showed everyone in town what turn lane you remembered. Hmmmmm. 🤔
So ma was flawed. Just like we all are. And honestly, I like remembering this along with my memories of her love and hugs and support and approval and everything else she gave to me and was to me. She was human. And she was fantastic.
And O? I’m going to start writing down my flaws for the eulogy you’ll say for me. When I think of some, I’ll let you know.
So, my sister and I got an offer on ma’s house yesterday which we’re going to accept. The people want to move in around mid-January and this will be the last ‘thing’ we’re going to be letting go of. It’s hitting me like a ton of bricks.
Pinky!
I’ve always been the type to get attached to things so much. I’ve got a bunny I won at our local laundry when I was 4 and I named her ‘Pinky’…she’s pink so I was very creative with the name. Anyhoot, I still have her 52 years later – minus her ears which fell off sometime in the 70’s and a pair of my underwear from the same decade that’s been on her since. No…I’ve never washed this underwear in all of these years…and no, Pinky is pottie-trained so it’s ok. When O saw her for the first time last year when I was rummaging around in my old closet at ma’s, he was horrified. Absolutely horrified. In fact, I’ve never seen my son with such a look of fear on his face…apparently, he likens Pinky to Annabelle. Go figure. 🙄
I have so many other things that I just can’t let go of either: books from when I was a kid…old school papers of my own and of O’s…my teaching supplies from when I taught elementary complete with every drawing my students made for me…cards my college sweeties have given me over the last 26 years…even hankies that are in complete tatters just because ma said they were like Grandpas and you just can’t find them available anymore. I guess I’m just a sucker for nostalgia.
Me and Terri on the porch before a wedding!
Pop and ma built the house when I was in first grade and Terri and I got to pick out our room design: I chose bright yellow wallpaper with huge flowers on it, gold paint, gold carpet and then a red/white/blue ceiling light that went with absolutely nothing. I got the smaller room but bigger closet and pop built bookshelves in it and I’d sit inside the closet and play library with Pinky and my myriad of other stuffed friends. Terri was a bit more stylish since she’s so much older than me 🤨) and her colors of choice were orange wallpaper with bright flowers, orange paint, and orange carpeting. However, her light was much more in keeping with the decor. But we loved our rooms…they were VERY cool!
We used to use our hairbrushes as microphones and sing David Cassidy songs in front of her closet which was our ‘audience’…Terri styled my hair in her room and bopped my nose with the hair dryer each and every time…we each got our own stereo’s and Terri would play her Donna Summer album at bedtime and to this day, I still feel drowsy when I hear MacArthur Park. We’d make brownies when ma was at work and then eat the batter with our fingers. We tanned on our deck and watched our skin turn red and our hair turn orange. We’d pull our bikes out of the garage and ride around the neighborhood for hours. We’d use the pogo stick and stilts Grandpa gave us and would totter around the driveway.
Ma rummaging around in her kitchen in the 80’s!
But with ma’s house, I have mixed feelings – there are a lot of good memories in it…but there are a lot of bad too. And honestly, I think the bad ones are one of the reasons I chose not to live in the house myself.
Richard (that fucking bastard 😡) moved into it when I was a sophomore in high school and it was a weird time. He was nice at first (as most abusers are) but there was still that awkwardness of having this new person around. Then the violence he perpetuated against ma began, and escalated quickly. I would hear him beating her at night when I was in bed and the horror of that was indescribable. Then there were the ‘between’ times when ma and I had to tiptoe around on eggshells so that I was never really comfortable at home when he was around.
Even after moving out, Terri and I were still directly affected by R. EVERY holiday was hellish because he would either be ranting, preaching, demanding, yelling or lashing out and for 28 years, Thanksgiving and Christmas were a trial. Terri and I would dread going over there when he was home and because of this didn’t see ma as much as we’d like, which was exactly what Richard wanted. The less access she had to us…the more he had to her.
Her kitchen where she loved baking.The sunroom where we played cards!Ma’s long-arm machine.Ma’s funky bedroom!
But then she divorced him and her transformation began. Not just personally, but in terms of her home too. She wanted a completely fresh start and re-did everything exactly the way she wanted. Paint, window coverings, carpet, furniture, lamps, a complete remodel of her bathrooms, and the list goes on. She even had her bedroom painted a pinkish-rose…one of her very favorite colors! Her home went from a prison to a retreat and she loved it so much. I don’t know how many times she said how comfortable she was…how content…how happy.
And it took on a completely different meaning for us again. I loved going over there and eating lunch at her kitchen island, playing cards in her sunroom, having holidays that were relaxed and fun and opening presents on the living room floor, sewing with her downstairs and rummaging through her fabric stash, watching her quilt on her long-arm, plopping on her bed when she got ready to go somewhere, having family meals…especially chili…in the dining room and laughing our way through it, seeing her sitting on the porch when she knew I was running over and wanted to see me coming up the street, talking to her while I watered her outside plants as she sat on the porch bossing me around. These last 12 years of memories are awesome…and those are the ones I want to remember most.
The last pic O took of ma and me…we’re in her sunroom!Ma cooking at her stove!Ma at her long-arm!
I guess letting go of the house is letting go of her pride and joy. Of the best years of her life. Of her growth. Of her true happiness. Of the time where she could be herself with absolutely no one berating her. Suddenly the house ‘was her’. And it symbolized the best of her that she discovered within herself.
I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to do a final walk through. It’s completely empty now and I haven’t seen it yet. Terri was the one to take care of the long-arm machine which was the last thing to go. But I think I want to remember it full of her. Seeing her in her jammies and sitting on her chair and cross-stitching and watching American Ninja Warriors, (she had a HUGE crush on The Rock and actually told me something naughty she wanted to do with him…I was a bit taken aback! 😮) while eating a bowl of her Bear Track ice cream.
That’s what I want to take with me. And that’s what she was able to leave Terri and I with.
So, I came across a speech I made at the Relay for Life some years ago and it was all about celebrating ma. I didn’t want to just focus on her being a breast cancer survivor at the time, but for the person she truly was. As I read it today, something awesome happened…I started to smile and cry and laugh and it felt great. No matter what she endured in her life, she was a wonderful parent and friend, and Terri and I talk often about how proud we always were of her! And…here’s some reasons why!
At Relay for Life after I gave my speech!
Ma was a voracious reader! Even before I could climb up on her lap myself, ma would spend hours reading to me and teaching me to love books and reading just as much as she did. Opening up these ‘worlds’ to me taught my imagination to soar…something that I hope I still have! As adults, ma, Terri and I always recommended books to each other and discussed the merits of various authors. (Me and Terri love Wally Lamb…but ma wouldn’t read him 🙄). One of her biggest fears in life was having an over-due library book and she would never let us borrow her card…just in case we didn’t get the book back in time. Sheesh!
The cake ma made for T’s 3rd birthday. Raggedy Ann’s pockets look like boobs!
Ma was a sucker for holidays! She always wrapped all of our presents perfectly and put so much thought into them. Ma saved all of the glue-y school decorations Terri and I brought home and got them out every year at Christmas. When we were kids, we got to pick our special birthday meal. My go to was Kraft Mac and Cheese and green beans. (I had simple tastes then…but honestly, this sounds pretty fucking good right now 😳)! We also got to pick our cake and we most often chose a frozen concoction called Pistachio Dessert. For the last 10 years, German chocolate was my favorite and no one made the coconut icing like ma did.
Ma was a terrific cook and her chili, minestrone, lasagna, zucchini bread, chocolate chip bars, and the list goes on are going to be missed. She ALWAYS brought broccoli casserole to EVERY family gathering and I’m so happy Terri is taking that task over…beautifully I might add. BUT…ma could NOT make a meat loaf. They were ‘grayish’ (🤢) and hard and crusty and she absolutely hated that my mother in law made the best kick-ass meatloaf in the world! Ma never could get that right!
Ma in her happy place!The quilt we made for ma!
Ma was also extremely talented and made scores of quilts, intricate cross stitch pictures, knitted items, sequined stockings, and the list could go on and on! Ma passed on her love of sewing to me and Terri and always gave us each a special quilt that she made for us at Christmas. We cherish all of them! A couple of years ago, we made ma a quilt! We each made a side and she quilted it on her long-arm machine…she loved having something that had both of us in it!
At my high school graduation. I wonder why I wasn’t prom queen?
Ma was so supportive of my education! She was always room mom for Terri and me in elementary school and celebrated our successes. She made a big deal of graduations and when Terri graduated with her LPN years ago, ma gave a great party and was so proud! My favorite memory of her in school was in the 3rd grade: she did a craft with my class that consisted of gluing pieces of fabric to flower pots. I felt so special that my ma was craft lady for the day and the best part was that she wore a pink t-shirt pop had gotten her with the words “Foxy Lady” printed on it. Even NOW, if I run into someone from grade school, they still tell me how cool ma was!
Ma and Scooter!
All through my growing up years, ma was a self-confessed dog hater! She didn’t like them…wouldn’t pet them…and never once even considered having one in her home. Then I got Scooter when I moved into my own apartment. The first meeting between them did not go well and when I brought him over, she insisted he stay in a crate. Period. The 2nd time, she petted him and said I could hold him but not put him on the floor. Then something amazing happened: she started calling Scooter her ‘grand-dog’ and showered him with love and attention! If he piddled on her carpet, she’d simply smile and grab a paper towel. I was gobsmacked when she did this because if I dare drop a crumb from my Oreos, she’d have a conniption. Dottie may have been her very special dog out of all the ones I’ve had, but Scooter was her break through. And I know, without a doubt, that all 3 cuddle often in heaven.
Ma was great in emergencies. Terri and could call her about anything and she would be there…helping us in whatever way she could. Ma went to surgeries with me, loaned me money when I was struggling to make ends meet, commiserated with me when I had problems at school or work, and always hugged me tight when my heart was broken. Terri and I have always been amazed that such a small woman could have had such strong shoulders.
Ma in her favorite fabric store and made T and I claustrophobic!
Ma was a shopper. A browser. A thrift store lover. And a buyer! I’ll never forget when I was collecting Beanie Babies and ma stood in line with me (in 85 degree weather) for 3 hours to get a bear that is now available on e-bay for a quarter. Ma always took her grandkids shopping for school clothes and O just loves the memory of that. And the best part of shopping with her was when ma said a sentence Terri and I loved: “Oh…go ahead and grab it…I want to get it for you!” She was always so generous with us!
Ma was comforting to me. I specifically remember being in high school and waking up from a terrible dream. I cried out and ma came running in my room and held me close to her. No matter what was going on in my life, I would be comforted just by being close to her.
Doing one of her online puzzles!
Ma was so smart! NO one could do word puzzles and games like her and playing Scrabble with her was intense…to say the least. Terri and I dreaded winning…because the look she got on her face when she lost was dreadful. We can both imitate it perfectly! The info she knew was boggling and she did her NYT Crosswords and sudokus in PEN! Now that’s confidence!
You know, as I was writing this and going through a ton of pictures, I was reminded how lucky I was to have ma. I miss her terribly. I’d give about anything to have her back for even a day, and I’d take a year off my life to have another with her. But I know this is impossible so I make do with what I have: knowing that ma was fantastic in so many ways and how very lucky I was to have her for as long as I did.
So, I just got done grading all of my finals – thank the Lord – and was thinking about a question I posed to my Intro to Sociology class. It was about labeling and how we either try to live up to them…live down to them…and then their lasting impact on our lives.
Some of the labels my students talked about broke my heart. So many said they had been labeled as ‘fat’, ‘dumb’, ‘annoying’, etc. and regardless of anything, they still feel the pressure and anxiety from it. For example, one of my students said that he was chubby during childhood and was labeled the ‘fat kid’. Even though he went on to play athletics in Jr. High and High School and became very fit and slim, he still carries that early message with him and said he is ‘extremely’ conscious about his weight still. That made me so sad for him!
And even positive labels can be stressful. Students talked about how they had been labeled ‘smart’ or ‘good’ and constantly feel the pressure to maintain that…pushing themselves to get perfect grades or always being nice.
Anyhoot, Terri and I started talking about labels too and both of us have been labeled as ‘too emotional’ and ‘too sensitive’ (big surprise there 🤨).
We’re aware that the label is correct…we’re conscious of our impassioned reactiveness and how it’s seen by others. The emotional load we carry is hard and being so sensitive, empathic, passionate, emotional, etc. is burdensome at times…hard on us….exhausting. The effect it has on us causes anxiety in terms of the storms inside of us and then the reproval we might face. It’s not easy having all of that simmering inside us.
But right now, the label that’s pressuring me the most is this: ‘Kristi is always energetic and happy and talkative and always smiles!’ (do I need commas between these? 🙄). And I try so hard to live up to this! Sometimes it’s easy because I am truly happy and energetic and my life is going great and I express it openly. However, that’s just something that’s not possible for me to do right now and it’s making me feel guilty and anxious.
People at school say “Wow! You’re doing so well!” because I put on that label mask: I smile and chuckle (there’s no way I can even fake a laugh) and find the reserves of energy I need in my classroom and with my colleagues. When I’m asked “How are you?” I say “I’m doing good!” I don’t want to tear up…or talk about my grief…or show my pain. I feel like I can’t since it goes against what’s expected of me. Or most likely, what I FEEL is expected of me.
See, I continue this even with my family and friends. I text with my usual exclamation points and chat with people with smiles and excitement. And then I get home. And I sit…and stare…and draw…and crochet…and write…and do anything I possibly can to distract myself from the negative emotions I need to express. It’s almost as if the label has become so internalized that I can’t NOT live up to it even when I’m alone. For fuck sakes, I don’t want Edward and Mally to get upset or scared.
How do I start to refute this label…this performance? How do I go against a lifetime of ‘happy’ and now show my grief for ma? I think this charade is preventing the avalanche that’s going to happen when I do. I also think it’s going to be something that only 1 person could ever help me with…and ma’s just not here.
I like being single in so many ways! The financial freedom…eating what I want…sleeping when I want…knowing if I put something down, it will be there when I come back. I like the quietness and privacy and knowing that my home is all mine. But…and there’s always a but…this is a time in my life when I need a ‘someone’ so bad. Someone to hug me…listen to me reminisce about ma and look at the photo books I’ve made…let me vent and then validate me when I do. Being alone is tough right now. I want to wave a magic wand and have that someone (who can sing country songs 🤠) just be there. That’s all. Just be there for me and then of course, me for them.
In the meantime…probably decades 🙄…I’m traversing this ‘alone’ in a lot of ways. Yes, Terri and Ollie are wonderful! T and I talk everyday and her support is huge. I don’t know what I’d do without her! But I was thinking the other night that everyone in my family has someone all their own: Ollie has his girlfriend and they are like an old married couple…Terri has Dan and they support each other so much…my nephews have their spouses and kids…and even all of my friends live with someone who’s simply there.
You know, I miss ma more than I can ever express. We talked everyday…saw each other multiple times a week…traveled together…ate together…played games together…sewed together…went to holiday gatherings together…went to ball games together. In other words, she was my someone. The one who was also alone, and with me we made a ‘together.’
I guess I need to lessen the hold this label has on me. Try to overcome the perceived demands this has on me. Work to understand that expressing negative emotions is valid for me…that I can cry and be upset and not smile and that it’s ok to do so. And I need to do this. I need to mourn ma. And I don’t think I’ve even started yet.
So, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and as much as Terri and I are missing ma and trying to figure out how to navigate the holidays without her for the first time, I also know how many blessings I have in my life too. My son, my family, my friends, my career, my home, my comfort, and the list goes on. I don’t ever want to lose sight of these things regardless of how much I’m grieving. 🙂
One of my colleagues and I were talking yesterday and she shared that she lost her dad 3 years ago. She asked how I was doing and I said my pat response: “Ok.” She said that she completely understood and even after the years that have passed since her loss, she’s often just ‘ok’ too. We talked about the pain losing a parent triggers and she said that she still cries over her dad…misses him daily…and feels the pain of his loss as something that she just carries inside of her now. I feel so bad for her since she and her dad were so close and thank her for being so open with me. To know that the struggle is real…and is going to be inside of me since ma will always be a missed part of my world…validates what both Terri and I are going through.
I think that all women feel what I know I do: that we ought to be the self-less ones…the ones who don’t take the last piece of cake, or demand what restaurant we eat at, or let our own desires come before those of our families. Maybe it’s in our DNA…maybe it’s the way ma raised T and I…or maybe it’s what we’ve chosen to spend our lives doing.
I’ve been teaching since I was 19 years old…preschool, jr. high teaching assistant, elementary, high school and college…basically the entire gamut of ages and grades and no matter what the level, students need so much from you. And, since I teach psych and socio and talk about some pretty difficult issues and struggles, so many students come to me for advice…comfort…direction. And honestly, it helps me as much as them. I want to the be the one to be leaned on. To be needed. To give to others because it makes me feel so good. T is the exact same way…her work as a private nurse and then the kind of grandma she is to my amazing nieces and nephews shows the size of her heart and her willingness to give all she has of herself.
I think all of this is why I’m finding it so hard to reach out to people who have offered support. When friends or family inquire about how I’m coping and handling things, more often than not I say “I’m fine!” to them. I want to recognize their pain first…their issues first…their needs first. I don’t want to burden them with mine…put anymore on their own shoulders…admit I need help.
I guess I don’t ever want to be seen as selfish and for me, asking for help puts me in that position. I jump on my own roof to clean out my gutters…move tons of rock by myself…teeter on ladders to paint my ceilings…put drops in Edward’s ears alone since it can be messy, and honestly, just doing this one task truly does show my inner strength. I think O and my next door neighbor would agree. 🙄
I’m also self-conscious about always being down. As I think all of us who experience depression can attest too, we soon learn that there’s often not a lot of compassion for us; or if there is, it dwindles as we continue to be down. If I asked how many of you have heard “Just cheer up!” “You’re so lucky for what you’ve got!” “Don’t you realize how bad off others are?” all of your hands would probably go up. We often feel guilty for suffering from something that’s inside of us…not something we’ve created. Likewise, those of us with bipolar who cycle through manic states hear similar sentiments: “Slow down!” “Just stop!” And my personal favorite: “Just calm down!” GRRRRRR!
So, we learn to mask our emotions the best we can so we don’t hear the frustration, weariness, and even at times contempt, in other’s voices. Maybe I’ve been doing this so long I simply can’t stop. I don’t want to seem needy or weak or lost. But just between you and me my sweetie peeps, I feel needy and weak and lost. And what is so so hard to realize as well is that ma is the one who made me feel needed…and strong…and anchored. She was the one I could be all these things too and have total, always unconditional, acceptance. Isn’t it ironic that the one I need most in my world is the one who’s no longer in it?
I know that I need to open myself up to the support being offered but genuinely don’t know how. “Can you come over and keep me company?” How can I ask that when they have their own lives to live? “Will you sit down with me and look at a photo album I made while I talk about all the memories that are between the covers?” How can I take up their time hearing my stories and seeing me cry? “Would you mind running some errands with me because being alone 90% of my time just gets to be too much and having company would feel so fucking (sorry, ma) good?” How can I force someone to spend time with me when I can always handle things myself? “Can I call and chat for a while?” How can I make myself be a pest to someone who’s so busy themselves?
I understand that this is a ‘me’ problem. An “I don’t know how to do this” problem. And I also know it’s keeping me from starting the work I know I need to be doing…not just getting through each day so busy that I don’t have time to think. That’s beginning to not work for me now and with Thanksgiving, my birthday and Christmas all within the next month, those triggers are going to be mighty hard to ignore.
Terri and I both need to cut ourselves some slack…be kinder to ourselves. We need to stop feeling guilty for asking for help and for feeling selfish when we do. We also need to be able to start saying ‘no’ to things that will take away from what we are personally able to handle right now. Reversing decades of feeling bad about ourselves when we were depressed or struggling has made it’s imprint…it may be a while before we can let some of that go.
Every night I thank God that he gave me a ma that I miss so fucking much. She was such an amazing mother and the love I have for her is undefinable. It’s a blessing to have experienced what a lot of others haven’t been able too. And I’ll be thankful for that forever.
Happy Thanksgiving, peeps…thank you for your kind messages and sweet words. They are truly appreciated more than you’ll ever know. 💘💘💘
It’s All in Your Head 