I grew up eating meat. We were poor and ground beef was inexpensive and versatile. I never really considered myself much of a meat eater, however, and always said I would easily be able to give it up. In December 2010, I did. I knew I needed to make some changes to my diet but just couldn't motivate myself to do so. So, when a friend said he was "going vegan" for a week to make amends for upsetting the girl he was dating at the time, I said it would be easier for me to be vegetarian for a week than for him to be vegan-despite his being a lifelong vegetarian.
The timing worked out well for this. I had a sinus infection at the time but despite following the directions, I kept throwing up my Amoxicillin-and everything I ate. Ultimately, I had to be taken off of it. So, my system had been cleansed, though not in a traditional manner, as recommended before starting a diet lifestyle change.
Other than missing bacon (mmm bacon) and the convenience of meat, I did not find it hard to be vegetarian, though I did find a few chain restaurants to not be vegetarian-friendly. But overall, Portland is very vegetarian friendly. Actually, it's pretty friendly to most lifestyles.
Over time, I started to notice I kept getting sick and finally was able to attribute it to onions. My dad was allergic to them and it turns out as much as I love them, they don't love me. It also turns out that onions are used to flavor about 95% of vegetarian dishes and cannot always be left out. So this added an extra challenge-vegetarian without onions.
Then I had LASIK in October, and I came out allergic to food. I've never been particularly healthy-not necessarily sick, but not really healthy either so chances are the food allergies have always been there; it just never occurred to anyone that perhaps I should be tested for them. In November, an IgE blood test revealed an allergy to Baker's yeast with the antibodies present for several other items. Researching that was frustrating, to say the least. It's not a common allergy (of course not) and it's controversial. Not to mention, most research is centered around the bacterial yeast, Candida, that naturally occurs in our bodies and I'm allergic to the fungal yeast found in the yummy goodness known as bread, pretzels, pizza dough, vineger, etc.
So now I can't eat onions, bread products, condiments, salad dressing, most sauces, alcohol (also allergic to sulfites), and grapes. I started to eat chicken and pork again. I quickly learned you can't be allergic to yeast and highly intolerant to onions and be a vegetarian. Unless, of course, you only want to eat dairy, fruits, veggies, and pasta.
Armed with a better understanding of food allergies and their symptoms (which strongly resemble what you go through when you are grieving), I realized there was something that was still making me sick. So I made an appointment with an allergist for the skin-prick test. It revealed I'm allergic to yeast (I wanted a second opinion), almonds, hazelnuts, and pistachios with a mild allergy to spinach (seriously? How is that even possible??), potatoes and peaches. Sigh...although I seem to be fine eating potatoes, and I don't really care for hazelnuts and peaches so no loss there.
Neither of these tests were what I considered to be comprehensive as they only tested a limited range of items: 23 for the IgE test and 56 for the skin prick test. So on the recommendation of a naturopath, I went in for the EAV method of allergy testing, which is an electroacupuncture method and pretty much tests everything you can think of. According to this test, I'm allergic to wheat, which came up negative on the skin prick test but positive on the IgE test; however, I do not have Celiac Disease. This test also showed positives for sugar (not tested previously but she said almost everyone tests positive on this), dairy (negative on the other two tests), tomatoes (also positive on the IgE test) and chocolate (um, not just no, but HELL no). On the environmental side, I'm pretty much allergic to leaving the house. Negative for yeast, alcohol and sulfites.
Frustrated, I asked how I could test positive for something on two tests but not the third. She said she considered the EAV method to be 85-90% accurate and if I tested positive two out of three times, I should assume I'm allergic to it. I should also assume an allergy or intolerance to foods I know to make me sick-which is what I'm trying to narrow down with all these tests. Again, sigh.
I'm very frustrated right now and don't know what to do next. I guess I'll start by looking at the three test results side by side for commonalities and go from there. The thing I found interesting about this from an emotional standpoint is that for the first time in 4 years, James wasn't the sounding board I want to help me figure out a game plan. Someone else is-a friend who has become quite the presence in my life in a short amount of time-a definite sign of healing.
Lately, there has been a lot of talk about pink slime in ground beef. (Eeww). All the talk, this frustration of still not being sure of what I am and am not allergic to and driving by Carl's Jr on a regular basis has me wanting a nice, big bacon cheeseburger. However, if you take off all the things I may or may not be allergic to, I can have the hamburger patty and the lettuce-as long as there's no seasoning containing autolyzed yeast extract on the patty. I haven't had beef in 15 months so it would probably just make me sick if I ate it now. And it's not so much that I actually want the cheeseburger; I just want it to be an option. I just want to be normal. And normal girls eat cheeseburgers.
Showing posts with label moving forward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving forward. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Friday, December 9, 2011
Puzzles
This weekend, a friend of mine is coming over to help me purge through my house. Despite having seen my house, I don't think the poor guy knows what he has signed himself up for and I don't know why he is so looking forward to this project-why he even cares. But I have known for a long time it needs to be done and it's too overwhelming when I try to tackle it alone so I'm grateful for the offer. I feel I need to move the past out so the future can move in. Not just my past with James, but my past period. I have things I've been carrying around for far too long that there is simply no reason to continue to hold on to, like my very first purse which I will never use again (though it is from the 80's, so it could be in style again here shortly).
My friend has told me he's going to be a Nazi about the purge process and I get one bye but anything else needs justification in the form of a research paper. Knowing there's a good chance he's serious and that my puzzle collection could be a source of disagreement, I have written the following. No, it's not the scientific research he had in mind; rather, it's research of my heart and soul:
I was five years old when my grandmother gave me my first jigsaw puzzle. As I was younger than the recommended age on the box, my mom wanted to put it away until I was older. Knowing that I was an inquisitive and determined child, however, Grandma did not see any harm in letting me try to put it together.
I wasn’t sure about this at first wondering why Grandma had given me a broken toy. Mom had to show me what this puzzle business was all about-how all the pieces were supposed to fit together to make the picture on the box. I was skeptical but I gave it a shot. Mom was skeptical as well, convinced I would never finish it.
Naturally, I finished the puzzle. And then I took it apart, turned the pieces over and put it together face down. And then I put it together again the correct way. So I was given a second puzzle. Again, I put it together correctly and then face down.
After this, puzzles were a given on my birthday and Christmas wish lists and my collection began to grow, with my preference for those picturing houses and/or boats. We had a spare room in our house in Davenport, and it was not uncommon for me to have one puzzle in progress on the floor of that room or my bedroom and several put together. I like to admire them after they are completed before I tear them apart and put them away. The back room was very cold and drafty (possibly haunted, though that’s another story), however, and my bedroom wasn’t much warmer, so Dad brought home a “puzzle board” for me so I could work on my puzzles in a more heated (but carpeted) part of the house, which I thought was the greatest thing ever. This first and subsequent puzzle boards are more commonly known as plywood-pieces big enough that I could easily fit two 1,000-piece or one 2,500-piece puzzle on-as I got older, so did the piece count of my puzzles as my dad tried to make them more challenging for me. Despite being nothing more than plywood, we always called them puzzle boards.
As I grew older, I never outgrew my love of puzzles. To this day, I am drawn to them like a magnet. If I see one in progress, it is so incredibly hard not to go over and work on it-which not everyone appreciates! Friends and family fully support this habit. My friend and I occasionally get together and catch up while putting one together. She gives me hers when she is done with them. Her mother also picks them up at garage sales for me. It does make me easy to shop for and allows for a little mischief-a few years ago for Christmas, my brother and nephews sent me a three-pack of puzzles in which they mixed all the pieces together. They were pretty distinct and easy to sort out so for my birthday they sent me a 10-pack. Again they mixed all the pieces together, in effect giving me a puzzle with over 7,000 pieces, which I accused James of doing. To this day, I am still not 100% convinced it really was Mike and the boys who did it. This took me a bit longer to sort out. And yes, they have been a source of contention. James’ only complaint was I came with too many puzzles. When we moved back from Arizona, he told me anything that was not unpacked within 6 months was going to be given away. Knowing how he felt about the puzzles, I unpacked them first.
I don’t remember a time in which puzzles were not a part of my life. I love how finding one piece can change the entire look of what’s already been put together. I love the challenge of finding that one piece. I love the calming effect they tend to have on me. I love the sense of completion and satisfaction that comes with snapping in the last piece. I love that no matter how many I do there’s always one waiting-that I will never run out of them. I love that I have this hobby to help me when I need an escape to take my mind off of other things or when I need a distraction so my mind can quietly work out things it is trying to process.
The puzzles stay.
My friend has told me he's going to be a Nazi about the purge process and I get one bye but anything else needs justification in the form of a research paper. Knowing there's a good chance he's serious and that my puzzle collection could be a source of disagreement, I have written the following. No, it's not the scientific research he had in mind; rather, it's research of my heart and soul:
I was five years old when my grandmother gave me my first jigsaw puzzle. As I was younger than the recommended age on the box, my mom wanted to put it away until I was older. Knowing that I was an inquisitive and determined child, however, Grandma did not see any harm in letting me try to put it together.
I wasn’t sure about this at first wondering why Grandma had given me a broken toy. Mom had to show me what this puzzle business was all about-how all the pieces were supposed to fit together to make the picture on the box. I was skeptical but I gave it a shot. Mom was skeptical as well, convinced I would never finish it.
Naturally, I finished the puzzle. And then I took it apart, turned the pieces over and put it together face down. And then I put it together again the correct way. So I was given a second puzzle. Again, I put it together correctly and then face down.
After this, puzzles were a given on my birthday and Christmas wish lists and my collection began to grow, with my preference for those picturing houses and/or boats. We had a spare room in our house in Davenport, and it was not uncommon for me to have one puzzle in progress on the floor of that room or my bedroom and several put together. I like to admire them after they are completed before I tear them apart and put them away. The back room was very cold and drafty (possibly haunted, though that’s another story), however, and my bedroom wasn’t much warmer, so Dad brought home a “puzzle board” for me so I could work on my puzzles in a more heated (but carpeted) part of the house, which I thought was the greatest thing ever. This first and subsequent puzzle boards are more commonly known as plywood-pieces big enough that I could easily fit two 1,000-piece or one 2,500-piece puzzle on-as I got older, so did the piece count of my puzzles as my dad tried to make them more challenging for me. Despite being nothing more than plywood, we always called them puzzle boards.
As I grew older, I never outgrew my love of puzzles. To this day, I am drawn to them like a magnet. If I see one in progress, it is so incredibly hard not to go over and work on it-which not everyone appreciates! Friends and family fully support this habit. My friend and I occasionally get together and catch up while putting one together. She gives me hers when she is done with them. Her mother also picks them up at garage sales for me. It does make me easy to shop for and allows for a little mischief-a few years ago for Christmas, my brother and nephews sent me a three-pack of puzzles in which they mixed all the pieces together. They were pretty distinct and easy to sort out so for my birthday they sent me a 10-pack. Again they mixed all the pieces together, in effect giving me a puzzle with over 7,000 pieces, which I accused James of doing. To this day, I am still not 100% convinced it really was Mike and the boys who did it. This took me a bit longer to sort out. And yes, they have been a source of contention. James’ only complaint was I came with too many puzzles. When we moved back from Arizona, he told me anything that was not unpacked within 6 months was going to be given away. Knowing how he felt about the puzzles, I unpacked them first.
I don’t remember a time in which puzzles were not a part of my life. I love how finding one piece can change the entire look of what’s already been put together. I love the challenge of finding that one piece. I love the calming effect they tend to have on me. I love the sense of completion and satisfaction that comes with snapping in the last piece. I love that no matter how many I do there’s always one waiting-that I will never run out of them. I love that I have this hobby to help me when I need an escape to take my mind off of other things or when I need a distraction so my mind can quietly work out things it is trying to process.
The puzzles stay.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Unwritten-Natasha Bedingfield
My latest theme song:
I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Oh, oh, oh
I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
Oh, yeah, yeah
I'm anxiously awaiting to see how my next chapter is meant to be written.
I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Oh, oh, oh
I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
Oh, yeah, yeah
I'm anxiously awaiting to see how my next chapter is meant to be written.
Collision
A few months after James died, I started a Meetup group for young widows and widowers. Around the same time, I joined Facebook. I did that because my Canadian friend "made" me. He did it in the form of a riddle-if I wanted to know what he looked like, that's what I had to do. Ironically, he's not a Facebook fan.
At first, I only accepted friend requests on Facebook from people I've known for a long time-close friends, family, classmates, etc. Facebook, for me, was a place where not everyone knew my story. For most people, I was just Heather. I was the girl they remembered from grade school, high school, college, our time in Arizona, etc. I was me again. And I liked it.
And then my widower friend sent me a friend request. I didn't know what to do about that; it would be an intersection of two parts of my life I was keeping separate-that I was compartmentalizing. I accepted the friend request; I then allowed other members of my widow/ers group become my Facebook friends as well. As I became close to the members of the fun Meetup group, I slowly started to "friend" them on Facebook as well. I let those two parts of my world collide. It's handy if I want to plan an event for just my friends instead of posting the event through Meetup. I have them all in the same place.
My widowed peeps group knows about my fun Meetup group; most of my friends in the fun group know about the other group. But they've always been two separate entities. Until now. At our last dinner, my widower friend, another member of the group and I decided we should have a karaoke night. We decided it should be posted for our group but also through Facebook to open it up to our other friends as well. We set it up for Friday night. I didn't know how this would turn out. Not everyone is comfortable hanging out with a group of grieving people. (They don't know our group!) On Facebook, I just said it was a night for friends.
The turnout consisted of myself and three others from the widowed peeps group, two friends of my widower friend and six friends from the fun Meetup group. We had a great time; I was happily surrounded by some of my favorite people.
I told my friend who helped create the fun group I never thought my Meetup worlds would collide. We've discussed my compartmentalizing my life. He gave me a kiss and said he didn't think he'd see it either. I'm glad it did. After all, we're all just people. Awesome ones at that.
At first, I only accepted friend requests on Facebook from people I've known for a long time-close friends, family, classmates, etc. Facebook, for me, was a place where not everyone knew my story. For most people, I was just Heather. I was the girl they remembered from grade school, high school, college, our time in Arizona, etc. I was me again. And I liked it.
And then my widower friend sent me a friend request. I didn't know what to do about that; it would be an intersection of two parts of my life I was keeping separate-that I was compartmentalizing. I accepted the friend request; I then allowed other members of my widow/ers group become my Facebook friends as well. As I became close to the members of the fun Meetup group, I slowly started to "friend" them on Facebook as well. I let those two parts of my world collide. It's handy if I want to plan an event for just my friends instead of posting the event through Meetup. I have them all in the same place.
My widowed peeps group knows about my fun Meetup group; most of my friends in the fun group know about the other group. But they've always been two separate entities. Until now. At our last dinner, my widower friend, another member of the group and I decided we should have a karaoke night. We decided it should be posted for our group but also through Facebook to open it up to our other friends as well. We set it up for Friday night. I didn't know how this would turn out. Not everyone is comfortable hanging out with a group of grieving people. (They don't know our group!) On Facebook, I just said it was a night for friends.
The turnout consisted of myself and three others from the widowed peeps group, two friends of my widower friend and six friends from the fun Meetup group. We had a great time; I was happily surrounded by some of my favorite people.
I told my friend who helped create the fun group I never thought my Meetup worlds would collide. We've discussed my compartmentalizing my life. He gave me a kiss and said he didn't think he'd see it either. I'm glad it did. After all, we're all just people. Awesome ones at that.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Cleaning out the back room
When we moved into this house, one of the bedrooms (the "back bedroom") was designated as the exercise room/library. Yeah, it's a weird combination but it just worked out that way in terms of where the furniture would fit. After James died, I gave my desk to a friend so now all the books are in the office, which makes a lot more sense.
Last November when I decided to paint my bedroom, I packed up all the knick-knacks and whatnot from the bedroom and put it in the back bedroom. This was the start of that room slowly becoming used for storage. (Which has been great because I hate to exercise and couldn't get to the exercise equipment anymore). But I'm starting to have more social events at my house and as a result bought a second folding table and a bunch of chairs and I need somewhere to store them. I don't want to keep them in the garage so I decided it was time to clean out the back bedroom. I hadn't committed myself to doing anything yesterday, so I decided that would be a good time to get it done.
It took a couple of hours of sorting and several trips to the recycling bin for me to get to the last of the boxes, and as I did, I found myself filled with the desire to just not finish. So I took a break and went to get a pizza. I think the fine folks at Papa Murphy's would appreciate it if I'd either actually order the Veggie Delight as is or stop telling them I want the Veggie Delight and then creating something that in no way resembles their idea of the Veggie Delight.
It felt so weird and so final to pack up all these things which seems silly. For one thing, they were already boxed up. For another thing, it's not like I took them to a storage facility far away. They are in the closet in the back bedroom-I can go open the box whenever I feel like it. I think what it boils down to is when I packed them up the first time, it was intended to be temporary, but packing them up this time was meant so I could have closure so I can continue to move forward with my life. Life, I have decided, would be so much easier if death came with an instructional manual.
Overall, I feel good about having the room cleaned out. It's nice to have at least one room in this house tidy and organized! The downside is I now have no excuse not to exercise. I really didn't think that part through.
Last November when I decided to paint my bedroom, I packed up all the knick-knacks and whatnot from the bedroom and put it in the back bedroom. This was the start of that room slowly becoming used for storage. (Which has been great because I hate to exercise and couldn't get to the exercise equipment anymore). But I'm starting to have more social events at my house and as a result bought a second folding table and a bunch of chairs and I need somewhere to store them. I don't want to keep them in the garage so I decided it was time to clean out the back bedroom. I hadn't committed myself to doing anything yesterday, so I decided that would be a good time to get it done.
The starting point!
Some of it was pretty easy: the magazines I've been planning to get around to reading for up to 5 years now have been put in the recycling bin. The magazines that aren't quite that old that I'm still deluding myself I am going to read someday are now in neat stacks in the closet instead of strewn out on the floor. The magazine rack has been dismantled; the dowels are now in the craft/guest room and the rest is in the recycle bin (you never know when you are going to need a bunch of dowels). The stack of boxes I had accumulated because they might be the perfect size to mail something in someday are now either nicely shelved in the closet or in the recycling bin. The "Sweet Valley High" books my brother brought over (they had been at Dad's) last summer are now on my bookshelves and the other books I enjoyed in junior high are in a stack to go to Schoolhouse Supplies for another young girl to enjoy. Dad's trumpet is in the closet; the paperwork that was in the box is filed. (And now the large box my brother and I keep pawning off on each other is empty and can go back to him...ha ha ha...) The shoe cabinet that was only effective until the dogs figured out they could get into it is ready to go to Goodwill, as is the first ever laptop bag ever made and a bunch of old cassette tapes that belonged to James. The box of a bazillion keys that belonged to my father-in-law that no one will ever know what they go to, nor has anyone asked about in the 5 years since he passed away have been tossed. A lot of the stuff was in the craft/guest room to begin with but had been relocated when I actually had guests, so a lot of cleaning out the back room translated to moving it all back into the craft/guest room. I will not be having guests in there anytime soon!
Progress!
After lunch, I still didn't want to finish but I knew I had to. I was down to the hard part: the box of things from James' desk that were given to me by his employer after he died and the boxes of knick-knacks that I had put in the back bedroom so I could paint. What to do with these things?! I started with the box of things from his desk. Some was obvious: the lint roller and dental floss I put away in the bathroom. The bubbles, the Barrel of Monkeys and the Yo-Yo I put with the rest of the games. The clock radio, fake bling, Sumi-e board and the Santa that I'm assuming sings and dances when it has batteries I put in the box for Goodwill. The miscellaneous information about benefits I recycled. That left his nameplate, the birthday card my mom sent him that plays "You Can't Touch This" and the Transformers I gave him for what turned out to be his last birthday.
The boxes from the bedroom were not as easy. They mostly contained memorabilia from the cruise we took in 2007, and other small gifts we had given each other over the years. My plan had been to put a shelf up in the bedroom and put these things on it, but because I excel at procrastination, this never happened. And now I had a decision to make. The leftover items from his desk went into the box, except for the Transformers. I might take those to work. So did the vase of fake carnations he got me early on in our relationship that he would occasionally spray with his aftershave. The stuffed dog I got him early on went into the box as well. He wanted a dog and was having a bad day so I got him one. The poems we wrote to each other for Valentine's Day 2000-a little over a month after we started dating are in the box. I laughed when he handed me the poem-it actually hurt his feelings a bit, but what he didn't know was I was laughing because we had come up with the same gift for each other and I was relieved because I was afraid he'd think my writing him a poem was lame. The blown glass paperweight we saw being made that I went back to get him is also in the box. The paper from Sacramento that has his obituary is in the box; so is "Casino"-the stuffed rabbit I won at Circus Circus in Reno. The Ziplock bag with his PJ top is in there-I had just done laundry a few days before he died so I didn't really have anything that smelled like him. Most of the things we picked up on the cruise are in there too; the magnets are on the fridge and the pottery is going on a shelf in the craft/guest room. I decided to start collecting small pieces whenever I travel so while that started with him, it isn't exclusive to him. I added to my collection when I went to Mexico in 2009. The doll I bought in Haiti will go in there too, as will the Phoenix Suns rally monkey he bought me because he had to go to a game to schmooze prospective clients and felt bad I didn't get to go. The plastic cup we swiped from the ship, our Sea Passes and the little souvenir cup James got from trying the drink special the one night we ate in the formal dining room are also in the box. On the very top of the box is the picture that was taken of us on the cruise in our formal wear the night he proposed; it's the closest thing we ever had to an engagement picture.
It felt so weird and so final to pack up all these things which seems silly. For one thing, they were already boxed up. For another thing, it's not like I took them to a storage facility far away. They are in the closet in the back bedroom-I can go open the box whenever I feel like it. I think what it boils down to is when I packed them up the first time, it was intended to be temporary, but packing them up this time was meant so I could have closure so I can continue to move forward with my life. Life, I have decided, would be so much easier if death came with an instructional manual.
Overall, I feel good about having the room cleaned out. It's nice to have at least one room in this house tidy and organized! The downside is I now have no excuse not to exercise. I really didn't think that part through.
Wow! I can take a picture from the other side of the room!
The box my brother WILL see again. (Sammy not included).
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
"Ready to Love Again" by Lady Antebellum
I kept hearing the following lyrics on the radio, but never the whole song: "It's a quarter after 1:00. I'm a little drunk and I need you now. I said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now." I didn't know the title or artist of this song and wanted to hear the rest of it.
The night I signed my life away on the house in California (note to self: your mother-in-law's birthday is tomorrow), I stopped in to Baskin Robbins to take comfort in a double scoop of Baseball Nut (my absolute favorite non-chocolate seasonal ice cream flavor). The song was playing so I asked the gal helping me if she knew the name of it and who sang it. She told me it is "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. It's an awesome song I have played on YouTube so many times the dogs probably have it memorized.
I subscribe to Rhapsody so I added it to my playlist. I also decided to see if they had any other songs I like and found one whose lyrics are so perfect for where I feel I am right now. The song is called "Ready to Love Again," and the lyrics are:
Seems like I was walking in the wrong direction
I barely recognized my own reflection, no
Scared of love, but scared of life alone.
Seems I've been playing on the safe side baby
Building walls around my heart to save me, oh
But it's time for me to let it go.
Yeah, I'm ready to feel now
No longer am I 'fraid of the fall down
It must be time to move on now
Without the fear of how it might end
I guess I'm ready to love again.
Just when you think love will never find you
You run away and it's right behind you, oh
It's just something that we can't control.
Yeah, I'm ready to feel now
No longer am I 'fraid of the fall down
It must be time to move on now
Without the fear of how it might end
I guess I'm ready to love again.
So come and find me
I'll be waiting up for you
I'll be holding out for you tonight.
Yeah, I'm ready to feel now
No longer am I 'fraid of the fall down
It must be time to move on now
Without the fear of how it might end
I guess I'm ready, ready to love again.
Okay, Universe. Bring it on.
The night I signed my life away on the house in California (note to self: your mother-in-law's birthday is tomorrow), I stopped in to Baskin Robbins to take comfort in a double scoop of Baseball Nut (my absolute favorite non-chocolate seasonal ice cream flavor). The song was playing so I asked the gal helping me if she knew the name of it and who sang it. She told me it is "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. It's an awesome song I have played on YouTube so many times the dogs probably have it memorized.
I subscribe to Rhapsody so I added it to my playlist. I also decided to see if they had any other songs I like and found one whose lyrics are so perfect for where I feel I am right now. The song is called "Ready to Love Again," and the lyrics are:
Seems like I was walking in the wrong direction
I barely recognized my own reflection, no
Scared of love, but scared of life alone.
Seems I've been playing on the safe side baby
Building walls around my heart to save me, oh
But it's time for me to let it go.
Yeah, I'm ready to feel now
No longer am I 'fraid of the fall down
It must be time to move on now
Without the fear of how it might end
I guess I'm ready to love again.
Just when you think love will never find you
You run away and it's right behind you, oh
It's just something that we can't control.
Yeah, I'm ready to feel now
No longer am I 'fraid of the fall down
It must be time to move on now
Without the fear of how it might end
I guess I'm ready to love again.
So come and find me
I'll be waiting up for you
I'll be holding out for you tonight.
Yeah, I'm ready to feel now
No longer am I 'fraid of the fall down
It must be time to move on now
Without the fear of how it might end
I guess I'm ready, ready to love again.
Okay, Universe. Bring it on.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The Rules
Apparently, somewhere along the way someone decided there needed to be rules for dating. I don't know who came up with them or when they even came along but I do know that James did not follow them. Maybe he didn't get the memo. Or maybe he knew what he wanted and went for it. (That would be more his style). Either way, I liked that about him. I knew where I stood from Day 1. With James, everything was so easy. I miss that. I miss how easy it was with him and I miss the sure thing I had with him.
Now it would seem I need to educate myself on these so-called rules. There is a set for men to follow and a set for women to follow. They are contradictory and it amazes me that people (in general) can actually follow these and still end up in a relationship.
The rules for men:
Rule #1: After getting a girl's number, you are to wait a minimum of 3 days to call and you never make that first call on the weekend. On the weekend, you are supposed to be out whooping it up while she is sitting at home waiting for you to call.
Rule #2: When you do finally get around to calling, don't make the first date for Friday or Saturday. Those are the "big" date nights and therefore too much pressure.
Rule #3: After the first date, say you'll call. But then wait 7-10 days before doing so so by the time you do call, she's spent so much time wondering why you haven't called she will have forgotten if she even liked you in the first place and will agree to just about anything.
I'm pretty sure these rules were written by someone who secretly hates women.
The rules for women:
Rule #1: Never, ever under any circumstances whatsoever make the first move. Play hard to get. When he calls after his requisite 3 days, let it go to voice mail and then wait 2 days to call him back. You don't want him to know you were sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring.
Rule #2: After the first date, respond enthusiastically when he says he will call even if you have heard this on the last 20 dates and none of them ever called so you think he is just giving you a line of B.S.
Rule #3: Do not under any circumstances call, text, e-mail, sky-write or anything else. If he likes you, he will call (rule #1 of "He's Just Not That Into You": he's just not that into you if he isn't calling you). Be patient. Watch a bunch of chick flicks to pass time. And don't act all pissed off when he finally does call 2 weeks later. Just smile so he will hear it in your voice and fall at his feet.
I have a few problems with the rules. First, I don't have a complete copy of them and can't seem to find one, despite my bathroom reading materials consisting of "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Finding Mr. Right," "He's Just Not That Into You" and "Dating for Dummies" (which is really outdated). Second, I really hate to be told what to do. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of experience in this area, so I'm not really sure how this is all supposed to go down and I'm afraid of doing something "wrong." And I'm more than slightly impatient. I don't want to wait 7-10 days to know if someone wants to see me again. I want to know he does or doesn't upfront-especially if he doesn't so I don't get my hopes up for nothing and can just move forward with the hope of meeting someone who does want to see me again (call me crazy). Plus I don't really have time to sit and watch a bunch of chick flicks.
I broke one of the rules when I didn't respond at all to New Guy saying he would call me after I saw him last weekend. Whoops. Of course it took me until Thursday to figure that one out. So, after an e-mail to my Male Perspective Friend (who is probably wondering how I managed to get myself past the first date with James at this point) and a text to my brother, I decided to send New Guy a very simple text message on Thursday night. I thought it through and decided that he had already made up his mind whether or not he wanted to see me again. Apparently, guys decide this fairly quickly and women decide it after about an hour. What if he wanted to see me, but didn't think I wanted to see him?
The result of sending the text was he called. We made plans for Sunday as I am going to see Nickelback tonight (woo-hoo!!). He was to call last night to firm things up-he played the new in town card so it was up to me to come up with a plan (not as easy as guys make it seem!). I decided if he didn't call, I was spending tomorrow doing much needed yard work. I convinced myself he wasn't going to call. So when he did, I didn't have a concrete plan in place yet (still don't, truth be told). He then asked if I was doing anything last night (it's against the rules to ask for a date last minute). I wasn't having decided not to go to '80's Prom Night after all because curling up on the couch sounded more what I needed with as much as I have been doing lately. We decided to go see a movie (romantic comedy-also against the rules because it can be awkward and suggestive). We had a good time. I'm looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow.
Sometimes it's worth it to break the rules.
Now it would seem I need to educate myself on these so-called rules. There is a set for men to follow and a set for women to follow. They are contradictory and it amazes me that people (in general) can actually follow these and still end up in a relationship.
The rules for men:
Rule #1: After getting a girl's number, you are to wait a minimum of 3 days to call and you never make that first call on the weekend. On the weekend, you are supposed to be out whooping it up while she is sitting at home waiting for you to call.
Rule #2: When you do finally get around to calling, don't make the first date for Friday or Saturday. Those are the "big" date nights and therefore too much pressure.
Rule #3: After the first date, say you'll call. But then wait 7-10 days before doing so so by the time you do call, she's spent so much time wondering why you haven't called she will have forgotten if she even liked you in the first place and will agree to just about anything.
I'm pretty sure these rules were written by someone who secretly hates women.
The rules for women:
Rule #1: Never, ever under any circumstances whatsoever make the first move. Play hard to get. When he calls after his requisite 3 days, let it go to voice mail and then wait 2 days to call him back. You don't want him to know you were sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring.
Rule #2: After the first date, respond enthusiastically when he says he will call even if you have heard this on the last 20 dates and none of them ever called so you think he is just giving you a line of B.S.
Rule #3: Do not under any circumstances call, text, e-mail, sky-write or anything else. If he likes you, he will call (rule #1 of "He's Just Not That Into You": he's just not that into you if he isn't calling you). Be patient. Watch a bunch of chick flicks to pass time. And don't act all pissed off when he finally does call 2 weeks later. Just smile so he will hear it in your voice and fall at his feet.
I have a few problems with the rules. First, I don't have a complete copy of them and can't seem to find one, despite my bathroom reading materials consisting of "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Finding Mr. Right," "He's Just Not That Into You" and "Dating for Dummies" (which is really outdated). Second, I really hate to be told what to do. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of experience in this area, so I'm not really sure how this is all supposed to go down and I'm afraid of doing something "wrong." And I'm more than slightly impatient. I don't want to wait 7-10 days to know if someone wants to see me again. I want to know he does or doesn't upfront-especially if he doesn't so I don't get my hopes up for nothing and can just move forward with the hope of meeting someone who does want to see me again (call me crazy). Plus I don't really have time to sit and watch a bunch of chick flicks.
I broke one of the rules when I didn't respond at all to New Guy saying he would call me after I saw him last weekend. Whoops. Of course it took me until Thursday to figure that one out. So, after an e-mail to my Male Perspective Friend (who is probably wondering how I managed to get myself past the first date with James at this point) and a text to my brother, I decided to send New Guy a very simple text message on Thursday night. I thought it through and decided that he had already made up his mind whether or not he wanted to see me again. Apparently, guys decide this fairly quickly and women decide it after about an hour. What if he wanted to see me, but didn't think I wanted to see him?
The result of sending the text was he called. We made plans for Sunday as I am going to see Nickelback tonight (woo-hoo!!). He was to call last night to firm things up-he played the new in town card so it was up to me to come up with a plan (not as easy as guys make it seem!). I decided if he didn't call, I was spending tomorrow doing much needed yard work. I convinced myself he wasn't going to call. So when he did, I didn't have a concrete plan in place yet (still don't, truth be told). He then asked if I was doing anything last night (it's against the rules to ask for a date last minute). I wasn't having decided not to go to '80's Prom Night after all because curling up on the couch sounded more what I needed with as much as I have been doing lately. We decided to go see a movie (romantic comedy-also against the rules because it can be awkward and suggestive). We had a good time. I'm looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow.
Sometimes it's worth it to break the rules.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
There is light
I had a much needed appointment with the therapist today. As she was out of the office for two weeks last month, I have not been in to see her since mid-January-seven weeks ago. I told her I think I can handle 6 weeks between appointments but seven is too many. She agreed.
I had two concerns I wanted to discuss with her today. The first was how not to let the feeling I have nothing to look forward to in life not spiral into full-blown depression. I knew this was not something she could give me a step-by-step answer to, but I figured any answer was better than nothing. She told me that after her husband passed away, she spent a lot of time telling everyone her life was like a straight line, that before it had peaks and valleys along the way and now there was nothing but a straight line. That makes sense; I can relate to that. She also said I need to find something to look forward to-not necessarily a long-term plan but something simple, like taking a trip. Something that I have to plan which will allow me to build up excitement in my mind. A trip would be nice, but it is not really in the cards financially now. So what do I want to plan-what is something that I would look forward to doing (that I can afford)? hmm...I'll have to think about that.
The other concern I had was about something I have been processing lately that relates to the internal struggle I have been dealing with, which is the realization that I am getting to a point where my life in no way resembles the life I had with James. And I kind of like it. But at the same time I feel guilty. I told the therapist that his death has enabled me to do things I wouldn't have done if he was still alive that I have enjoyed doing but I feel that by starting to enjoy this new life, I am betraying the one I had with him. I feel like by feeling this way, I didn't love him enough. I told her that I feel like I have been in a tunnel for the last 25 months and 3 days and now I am starting to see bits of light at one end of it, but James is still standing in the dark at the other end. That I want to go towards the light and emerge on the other side, but at the same time, there is a pull to stay in the tunnel with James.
She told me this meant I was healing. And with that healing it is normal to feel a tremendous amount of betrayal and guilt. That at times, almost 15 years after her husband's death, she still has moments where she feels that guilt for moving forward with and rebuilding her life. It is always such a relief to be told I am normal by someone who not only is a trained professional but who has also unfortunately walked this road. And she reminded me this is what James would want for me. I know it is. I know he would want me to be happy again and I want that too. And I will get there. Slowly but surely I will find my way to the light at the end of this tunnel and emerge on the other side.
I had two concerns I wanted to discuss with her today. The first was how not to let the feeling I have nothing to look forward to in life not spiral into full-blown depression. I knew this was not something she could give me a step-by-step answer to, but I figured any answer was better than nothing. She told me that after her husband passed away, she spent a lot of time telling everyone her life was like a straight line, that before it had peaks and valleys along the way and now there was nothing but a straight line. That makes sense; I can relate to that. She also said I need to find something to look forward to-not necessarily a long-term plan but something simple, like taking a trip. Something that I have to plan which will allow me to build up excitement in my mind. A trip would be nice, but it is not really in the cards financially now. So what do I want to plan-what is something that I would look forward to doing (that I can afford)? hmm...I'll have to think about that.
The other concern I had was about something I have been processing lately that relates to the internal struggle I have been dealing with, which is the realization that I am getting to a point where my life in no way resembles the life I had with James. And I kind of like it. But at the same time I feel guilty. I told the therapist that his death has enabled me to do things I wouldn't have done if he was still alive that I have enjoyed doing but I feel that by starting to enjoy this new life, I am betraying the one I had with him. I feel like by feeling this way, I didn't love him enough. I told her that I feel like I have been in a tunnel for the last 25 months and 3 days and now I am starting to see bits of light at one end of it, but James is still standing in the dark at the other end. That I want to go towards the light and emerge on the other side, but at the same time, there is a pull to stay in the tunnel with James.
She told me this meant I was healing. And with that healing it is normal to feel a tremendous amount of betrayal and guilt. That at times, almost 15 years after her husband's death, she still has moments where she feels that guilt for moving forward with and rebuilding her life. It is always such a relief to be told I am normal by someone who not only is a trained professional but who has also unfortunately walked this road. And she reminded me this is what James would want for me. I know it is. I know he would want me to be happy again and I want that too. And I will get there. Slowly but surely I will find my way to the light at the end of this tunnel and emerge on the other side.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The people in my path
On July 4, 2008, I started a Meetup group for young widows and widowers. In November, a widower joined the group. Not long after we met, we started "talking" in a chatroom associated with a website for young widows and widowers. It did not take long for a friendship to form.
Around the same time my widower friend joined our group, he also joined a hiking group. It is an "urban" hiking group, with walks around the Portland area. Once a month, the organizer of the group plans a very easy hike and my widower friend invited me to join him for the easy walk in January 2009. I wasn't sure about this whole hiking business, so I went as a guest of my friend. It was a nice walk around a neighborhood I hadn't explored and I enjoyed it. I ended up going on a more strenuous walk with the group a few weeks later, also as a guest of my friend, and ultimately ended up joining the group.
Not long after I joined, I went on my first hike alone-meaning I didn't have my friend there; I didn't have the comfort of having the one person I knew from the group there with me. It was a night hike-another first for me. I ended up meeting a guy on the hike who seemed nice enough and in one of my "finer" moments, felt the need to tell him my life story. That was in May 2009 and the last time our paths crossed on a hike, but not the last time our paths were meant to cross.
In September 2009, the guy I met on that night hike started the "fun" Meetup group. Nine days after he created it, I was browsing the groups in my area and thought the description of his group was exactly what I was looking for (it was) and I joined the group. I didn't run into him again until we did a volunteer project together at the end of October. I was nervous wondering if he would remember me and was relieved when he saw me and asked if I remembered him.
As I have become more active in this group over the last couple of months, I have met a lot of new people and am getting to the point where I am starting to see some of the same faces again and again. I have also been doing a bit too much and am a bit burnt out at work, so I have been thinking about taking a day off. (I also thought if I had a day off to look forward to, I would be more inclined to actually do my job as I have been totally unmotivated lately). I thought if it was a nice day that I took off, I might see if I could find someone who might be interested in going on a short hike with me.
Since I have a hike in mind, I was looking through the past events on the calendar for the hiking group to see if I could find the information for it. When I pulled it up, I was surprised to see a couple of members of the "fun" group on the list of people who had attended. This got me wondering, so I went back and looked at all the hikes I have done with the hiking group and sure enough, each one of them had at least one member of the "fun" group in the attendee list; people I didn't know from Adam (Eve?) at the time but now see on a regular basis.
I guess these are people who I was meant to meet or our paths wouldn't keep crossing. And it makes me wonder-who else have I already crossed paths with and just don't realize it (yeah, I know) and who else has yet to cross my path?
Around the same time my widower friend joined our group, he also joined a hiking group. It is an "urban" hiking group, with walks around the Portland area. Once a month, the organizer of the group plans a very easy hike and my widower friend invited me to join him for the easy walk in January 2009. I wasn't sure about this whole hiking business, so I went as a guest of my friend. It was a nice walk around a neighborhood I hadn't explored and I enjoyed it. I ended up going on a more strenuous walk with the group a few weeks later, also as a guest of my friend, and ultimately ended up joining the group.
Not long after I joined, I went on my first hike alone-meaning I didn't have my friend there; I didn't have the comfort of having the one person I knew from the group there with me. It was a night hike-another first for me. I ended up meeting a guy on the hike who seemed nice enough and in one of my "finer" moments, felt the need to tell him my life story. That was in May 2009 and the last time our paths crossed on a hike, but not the last time our paths were meant to cross.
In September 2009, the guy I met on that night hike started the "fun" Meetup group. Nine days after he created it, I was browsing the groups in my area and thought the description of his group was exactly what I was looking for (it was) and I joined the group. I didn't run into him again until we did a volunteer project together at the end of October. I was nervous wondering if he would remember me and was relieved when he saw me and asked if I remembered him.
As I have become more active in this group over the last couple of months, I have met a lot of new people and am getting to the point where I am starting to see some of the same faces again and again. I have also been doing a bit too much and am a bit burnt out at work, so I have been thinking about taking a day off. (I also thought if I had a day off to look forward to, I would be more inclined to actually do my job as I have been totally unmotivated lately). I thought if it was a nice day that I took off, I might see if I could find someone who might be interested in going on a short hike with me.
Since I have a hike in mind, I was looking through the past events on the calendar for the hiking group to see if I could find the information for it. When I pulled it up, I was surprised to see a couple of members of the "fun" group on the list of people who had attended. This got me wondering, so I went back and looked at all the hikes I have done with the hiking group and sure enough, each one of them had at least one member of the "fun" group in the attendee list; people I didn't know from Adam (Eve?) at the time but now see on a regular basis.
I guess these are people who I was meant to meet or our paths wouldn't keep crossing. And it makes me wonder-who else have I already crossed paths with and just don't realize it (yeah, I know) and who else has yet to cross my path?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Dancing Queen? Not so much.
The song playing was "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" by The Police. She was at the bar getting a drink when he walked in and spotted her. She looked over and caught his eye. He smiled, glad to have found someone in the group he was there to meet. She smiled back, glad to see someone from the group she recognized as well and glad to see him in particular. Though she would never admit it, he was the reason she decided to go to the dance at the last minute when she could have just as easily stayed home. Now she just had to figure out how to stay close and dance the night away with him without looking obvious...
That's how it would have gone if I ruled the universe and it would have ended well. The song playing was "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" and I was getting a drink. Two of them actually-cranberry juice and water. And cute Meetup Guy was supposed to be there, but if he was, I never saw him. We are a hard group to miss and he's met several of us more than once so he knew who to look for. I was a little disappointed he never showed up but I still had fun, which was really the point of my going in the first place.
I am not a dancer. I have no sense of rhythm but for once I didn't let that stop me from going out and dancing the night away. It was 80's night at the Crystal Ballroom. You can't go wrong with 80's music and seeing all the music videos from my youth was such a fun trip down memory lane. This group I belong to states it is about inclusion and everyone is there to have fun so I had plenty of people to dance with-namely my buddy who is in his 60's and who recently (unknowingly) told me just what I needed to hear: that I am one of the fun ones. He was also sweet enough to walk me to my car at the end of the night so I wouldn't have to brave the scary parking garage alone. And then there was a newcomer to the group who is a lot closer to my age and who is not hard to look at.
The co-founder of the group was hard to watch. His energy and dancing style reminded me so much of James that it about knocked my breath away. I didn't want to watch him, yet I couldn't take my eyes off him either. But he left early. Last year at this time, I think it would have been I that left early because I wouldn't have been able to handle that without breaking down.
The night reminded me of my high school dances except there were a lot more people, no curfew and alcohol wasn't available for purchase at those dances. (Though I wouldn't be surprised if it was available). I was watching the college kids (they weren't from our group) having a great time together and realized that if I had given birth at 15, one of them could have been my child. That was a very disturbing and creepy thought. Though it could have been funny too-me going out for a night on the town, hoping to connect with a cute boy. On the other side of town, my college-aged daughter wants to blow off steam and she and her friends decide to go dancing because the cute boy from her math class and his friends are going to be there...(I'm not really sure why she doesn't live at home; I'm going to go with her living on campus for the full college experience. I'm still trying to get over the shock that I could conceivably have a 21-year-old).
Throughout the night, I noticed a couple from our group dancing and having a great time together. I have seen him at events before but they have been larger events and I haven't really met him. I met her at a movie event, which was a small gathering and she is really nice. As the night wore on, I realized they were together. I asked her at one point if they were a couple before or if they met through the group. She said that they met through the group-that neither of them were looking but he is absolutely perfect for her and she has never been happier (there is a picture of her on the website taken last night and she looks absolutely radiant). That gave me hope. Maybe MH #2 is someone I will meet through this group. Maybe I already have and just don't know it. Yet.
That's how it would have gone if I ruled the universe and it would have ended well. The song playing was "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" and I was getting a drink. Two of them actually-cranberry juice and water. And cute Meetup Guy was supposed to be there, but if he was, I never saw him. We are a hard group to miss and he's met several of us more than once so he knew who to look for. I was a little disappointed he never showed up but I still had fun, which was really the point of my going in the first place.
I am not a dancer. I have no sense of rhythm but for once I didn't let that stop me from going out and dancing the night away. It was 80's night at the Crystal Ballroom. You can't go wrong with 80's music and seeing all the music videos from my youth was such a fun trip down memory lane. This group I belong to states it is about inclusion and everyone is there to have fun so I had plenty of people to dance with-namely my buddy who is in his 60's and who recently (unknowingly) told me just what I needed to hear: that I am one of the fun ones. He was also sweet enough to walk me to my car at the end of the night so I wouldn't have to brave the scary parking garage alone. And then there was a newcomer to the group who is a lot closer to my age and who is not hard to look at.
The co-founder of the group was hard to watch. His energy and dancing style reminded me so much of James that it about knocked my breath away. I didn't want to watch him, yet I couldn't take my eyes off him either. But he left early. Last year at this time, I think it would have been I that left early because I wouldn't have been able to handle that without breaking down.
The night reminded me of my high school dances except there were a lot more people, no curfew and alcohol wasn't available for purchase at those dances. (Though I wouldn't be surprised if it was available). I was watching the college kids (they weren't from our group) having a great time together and realized that if I had given birth at 15, one of them could have been my child. That was a very disturbing and creepy thought. Though it could have been funny too-me going out for a night on the town, hoping to connect with a cute boy. On the other side of town, my college-aged daughter wants to blow off steam and she and her friends decide to go dancing because the cute boy from her math class and his friends are going to be there...(I'm not really sure why she doesn't live at home; I'm going to go with her living on campus for the full college experience. I'm still trying to get over the shock that I could conceivably have a 21-year-old).
Throughout the night, I noticed a couple from our group dancing and having a great time together. I have seen him at events before but they have been larger events and I haven't really met him. I met her at a movie event, which was a small gathering and she is really nice. As the night wore on, I realized they were together. I asked her at one point if they were a couple before or if they met through the group. She said that they met through the group-that neither of them were looking but he is absolutely perfect for her and she has never been happier (there is a picture of her on the website taken last night and she looks absolutely radiant). That gave me hope. Maybe MH #2 is someone I will meet through this group. Maybe I already have and just don't know it. Yet.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Save the date no more
This has been a big couple of days for me in terms of moving forward. Monday morning, I had to stop and get gas on the way to work. I got back in the car and thought about how cold it was and how long my car takes to heat up.
"The BMW has heated seats." Inner Heather reminded me. Inner Heather doesn't like the cold either.
I looked up the number to the BMW dealership last week but managed to not get around to calling them to find out what it is going to take to get James' car running again after it has been just sitting in the garage for over a year now. It is being towed to the dealership Sunday and hopefully, will be up and running again by the end of the day Monday. My boss has said he will take me over there when it is finished so I can drive it home. I should probably put the tags on it. I have valid ones; the ones currently on there expired in June of last year. And at some point, I should probably start thinking of it as my car since it is now in my name and has been since January. I wonder if I will ever start to think of his things as mine?
Today, I had an even bigger moment, at least emotionally. One of the things I have wondered for the last 20 months is what was I supposed to do with 100 save the date cards? Not long before James died, we received the save the date cards for our wedding. James had seen my hastily thrown together mock-up of how I wanted them to look and was very skeptical of how the finished product was going to look. He was so impressed when he saw the finished product. We did not have them made by a professional. My best friend made them for us. 100 hand-stamped 3-layer cards. And for almost 2 years, they have been just sitting on my filing cabinet. James died on a Wednesday; I had planned to mail them out that weekend.
Today was trash day and my recycling cart was full enough to justify wheeling it out to the curb. This morning before I left the house, I set aside several of the cards for safe keeping. On my way out this morning, I put the rest of the cards in the recycling bin. And then I quickly got in my car and drove off before I could change my mind. I resisted the urge to turn around and pull them back out. I forced myself to just keep going.
And now they are gone, with the exception of the few I kept. My simple yet absolutely perfect save the date cards. My best friend's loving handiwork literally tossed out like yesterday's trash. I think that has been my hesitation. It's not from hanging on to the hope that I would still get to use them but that no one will get to see her labor of love. (I am not going to scan and post them due to the personal information they contain).
I do feel it was a big step though. It was a huge acknowledgment to myself that he really isn't going to come home. I wonder if that will ever cease to amaze me?
"The BMW has heated seats." Inner Heather reminded me. Inner Heather doesn't like the cold either.
I looked up the number to the BMW dealership last week but managed to not get around to calling them to find out what it is going to take to get James' car running again after it has been just sitting in the garage for over a year now. It is being towed to the dealership Sunday and hopefully, will be up and running again by the end of the day Monday. My boss has said he will take me over there when it is finished so I can drive it home. I should probably put the tags on it. I have valid ones; the ones currently on there expired in June of last year. And at some point, I should probably start thinking of it as my car since it is now in my name and has been since January. I wonder if I will ever start to think of his things as mine?
Today, I had an even bigger moment, at least emotionally. One of the things I have wondered for the last 20 months is what was I supposed to do with 100 save the date cards? Not long before James died, we received the save the date cards for our wedding. James had seen my hastily thrown together mock-up of how I wanted them to look and was very skeptical of how the finished product was going to look. He was so impressed when he saw the finished product. We did not have them made by a professional. My best friend made them for us. 100 hand-stamped 3-layer cards. And for almost 2 years, they have been just sitting on my filing cabinet. James died on a Wednesday; I had planned to mail them out that weekend.
Today was trash day and my recycling cart was full enough to justify wheeling it out to the curb. This morning before I left the house, I set aside several of the cards for safe keeping. On my way out this morning, I put the rest of the cards in the recycling bin. And then I quickly got in my car and drove off before I could change my mind. I resisted the urge to turn around and pull them back out. I forced myself to just keep going.
And now they are gone, with the exception of the few I kept. My simple yet absolutely perfect save the date cards. My best friend's loving handiwork literally tossed out like yesterday's trash. I think that has been my hesitation. It's not from hanging on to the hope that I would still get to use them but that no one will get to see her labor of love. (I am not going to scan and post them due to the personal information they contain).
I do feel it was a big step though. It was a huge acknowledgment to myself that he really isn't going to come home. I wonder if that will ever cease to amaze me?
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