Death

These are not my words, but words that spoke to me some years ago. I thought I would share them with you today.

Death. 

The thought of dying consumed me when I was younger. Not in some misguided goth vampire oh-isn't-death-cool kind of way. No, death scared the stuffing out of me. 

In many ways death paralyzed me. I couldn't think straight knowing I would die. This was starting when I was about 10 years old. Imagine that. I was going to worry for the next 65 years about dying. What kind of life would that be? It's like I was on the dance floor with everyone else, but rather than moving to the beat and enjoying the moment, I stood there perfectly still, consumed with the idea that the music would evetually stop. It was like I was already dead. 

There is a rational side of me that saw the irony. I was wasting away while living, because I feared wasting away and dying. As if worrying about the inevitable could somehow change the outcome. 

It reminds me of airplanes. I hate flying. So you know what I do? I try to sit lightly in my seat. I try to not press down too hard for fear the extra weight will be too much and the plane will plummet to the ground. How ridiculous. You should see me walk down the aisle of the plane to the bathroom. I am extra careful not to press my feet too hard into the carpet. So I do this sort of tiptoe thing. LOL! You want a laugh? If you watch closely on a plane, other people do it too. 

I think we are all the same. Maybe we are not willing to admit it, but we are. We are all the same. Our desire for sex. Our insecurity about how others view us. Concerns over our looks. Guilt over being selfish. On and on. All people. All cultures. We are all the same. With one strong common denominator being this overpowering fear of death. 

But young people, listen up, let me lighten your load a little. 

You know what happens? Death seems all consuming when you are a teen and you can't fathom how you will cope with the anxiety of impending doom when you turn 50 or 60 or 70. OMG right? How can an old person possibly ever smile knowing the grim reaper is around the corner?? But you know what? Here is the one thing I have learned in life: The fear of death goes away. 

As you get older, as you wander through your own trials of life, as you embarrass yourself at party, or screw up something at work, or feel guilty about yelling at your children - interestingly the fear of death subsides. It's as if your brain reconciles. Your brain says hey, you know what, you aren't perfect. You've messed up plenty. It is not a total loss if death puts you out of your misery. It would ease your guilt and suffering. 

It is like the difference between getting a dent in a new car versus an old car. With the new car, you get a dent and you flip out. But a shopping cart bumps into your old car and you don't even think twice. In fact, it makes me chuckle when I get a dent in the old car. I feel I won somehow. I feel it was a wasted effort on karma's part. Because I don't care anymore. Go ahead, dent my old car all you want. It doesn't bother me. It's old. Ha ha. 

And that's what happens with death. Take my life away when I am young and I am devastated. Take my life away when I am old and in a wheelchair and on medication, with a lifetime of troubling thoughts regurgitating in head about how I once puked in a bar and how I let down a friend by not showing up at his birthday party and how I ran over my neighbor's dog because I was too lazy to check before backing up. Fill your head with these dents over 50 years, and the thought that you only have 20 years left doesn't seem so bad anymore. 

The fear of death is self correcting. 

That's how old people cope. That's why sometimes we even smile. 

So live your life young people. Dance to the music. Don't fret about what's to come. It will be okay. Really, it will be okay. 

----71, male

The bond of brothers

 

The life of a United States Marine is a perplexing one to many who have never served with a Marine. Most will never understand the bond of Marines without actually experiencing it first hand. And although I am simply a spectator of the life of a Marine, I have some understanding of the strings that tie them together. I only wish I had that type of bond in my own life.

The statement 'once a Marine, always a Marine' is in fact the truth. People come and go in your life. Some are meant to be there by your side for life and some are just passing by. It's hard to judge whether someone will forever be in your life or eventually turn into a distant memory at the onset of a friendship. The connection of two Marine's is for life. Their dedication to God and country strengthens their dedication to the Corps. It doesn't matter how much time has come between hellos, the brotherhood of the Marine Corps will weigh heavy on the heart and keep that connection alive.

Recently my husband was contacted by an old friends sister. The sister and my husband are Facebook friends and although his old friend never joined the league of social networkers; the sister was there to speak for her brother in his time of need.

My husband has known Scott since middle/high school. Scott is a few years younger than my husband, but his out going personality won over both under and upper classmen giving him a wide social circle. A few years after high school both Scott and my husband joined the Marine Corps. Scott was first to enlist, but at this point the two had lost touch and my husband, Chad, was unaware of his old friends future plans. Ironically Scott joined up with another fellow that I went to high school with me before I knew Chad.

Soon Chad enlisted and was off to boot camp. Both Scott and his friend John found out Chad was at boot camp and tracked him down. The two offered some semblance of home to Chad and in some aspect to themselves as well. The personal connection in a time of such uncertainty while joining the armed forces made the time away from family and friends a little easier. Those guys have no idea what those few moments, those simple hellos did for Chad during that time in his life.

I'm quite certain not one of those guys were aware this was the beginning of a brotherhood, a bond that  can't and won't be broken despite time or distance.

And here we are today, Chad is in his car driving north to visit Scott, his fellow Marine, his former classmate. The unfortunate news Scotts' sister shared with my husband recently is that Scott is dying of cancer. His days are soon going to end.

For the past couple of weeks Chad has contemplated going up to see Scott in Georgia. He worried he would be in the way of a family trying to absorb as much time as possible left in this young man's life. But that Marine Corps bond, a sense of duty to a fellow Marine has persuaded him to take time out of his own busy life and go see his friend. And his time with Scott this weekend sharing old high school memories, trading Marine Corps stories may be short, but only proves the dedication to the end of a brother.

I really can't completely express my pride in my husband at this very moment. While many would say the drive is too far, the relationship is too distant, my husband looked within himself to give a couple of days of his life to this man before it's too late. Even after driving for many hours only to sit with Scott for just a short time, my husband is giving his time to Scott in honor of the Marine Corps brotherhood. The weekend lost, the cost of gas and the unfathomable heartache that will result from this trip is minor compared to what Scott is going through. It's that connection that those guys back in boot camp never knew would occur that makes this type of dedication possible.

This act is the essence of what makes up the brotherhood of a Marine.

If you are reading this and you are a Marine, I empower you to reach out to your brothers. Don't ever let that connection fade.

Climbing the ladder to success

 

 

I've been quietly lately. Life seems to get in the way of life at times. My thoughts have continued to grow as my existence has changed in great ways. I won't rehash the last months of my life, but I will continue on my stream of consciousness for today - the ladder to success.

My mind will forever focus on the ladder to success. While this colloquial phrase has been over used and become somewhat passé, I am constantly reminded of it and see it more of a hindrance than a process. Where does this path end? I am an ambitious climber working in an entirely new field and grasping at straws at how to get to the next level. Living within the onset of a new company, that path hasn't quite been written out and has made for a short, but bumpy journey. My small existence has taken me down a road of few missteps, promises that are given along with ill-will. But for unknown reasons, this has not dissuaded me from my path; I jump, go around and even create greener pastures in my mind with the ultimate goal of reaching the top of my ladder.  

I know myself; I know when I reach that rung on the ladder I will not be at the top, but at a point that brings me to a new goal, more steps to take. I have reached the top of the ladder before and it wasn’t enough. The top will never be enough. My journey will continue, from this point I want more, from that point I will want more. I simply can’t be satisfied.

I find it difficult to understand people who are satisfied in their jobs. Those who merrily do the same job day after day, year after year are a total mystery to me. Why don’t they desire more? I suppose comfort is important to some. They are likely masters of a sort of their own trade. I don’t find complete mastery important, I find that conquering and moving on the highlight of existence. Without a new goal to work towards, what is the point? I have so much more inside to offer and I make no bones about sharing that with those I feel deserve to know. Those who potentially will offer me a place on that path are the ones I play my game.

I have settled into a new professional home. It felt very foreign at first after spending more than eight years at my last. I took this huge leap of faith moving from a comfortable existence to one that is ambiguous at best. Upon my departure of my former home the anger flowed through the mouths of my previous family. Failure, disappointment and unhappiness were the language used to stab my back. Yet I held my head high; I didn’t blink or allow them to see anything but confidence as I continued to climb my ladder on my journey.

My life will forever be embroiled in the game. The teammates and gamers are those I analyze and eventually attempt to conquer. My strategy is forever evolving. The end of the game is not at the top of the ladder because the top does not exist. The ladder is an endless dream, a constant challenge in my mind.

Climbing the ladder to success gives me motivation to get up each day, to make it through another challenge fraught with road blocks, and to allow my mind to continue learning in an effort to finally feel success.

Living with an alcoholic

It's not easy living with someone in denial.  The daily grind becomes quite tedious when chasing after an alcoholic.  My mom has always been a drinker.  I never quite understood the impact alcohol has on a persons life until I was an adult.  Alcohol had always been a regular part of both my parents life.  Tipsy and drunk was normal behavior in my house.  And until that behavior began to affect my own children I really was clueless of the situation. 

It's been several years since my dad passed away from lung, pancreatic and liver cancer.  As far as we knew he had no clue he was sick until the last two weeks of his life.  His cancers were directly related to his long term smoking and drinking habits.  Any of the three cancers could have killed him.  I still don't know which cancer actually took him, but in reality it doesn't matter.

My mom still doesn't believe that my fathers bad habits of smoking and drinking contributed to his death.  I guess denial is easier than reality.  And so she continues smoking and drinking daily herself.  Along with denial comes invincibilty.  She has luckily recovered from several of her own alcohol/smoking related scares. I have attempted to talk to her about both addictions several times to only be met with anger and ultimate dismissal. 

Alcohol seems to be eating my mother's brain.  Besides the loss of short term memory she is forgetting how to do normal tasks such has how to pay the bill at a restaurant or how to add numbers.   My family normally tries to just get through the moment without causing a stir with her.  Getting angry or upset with her while she is drunk won't fix anything.  It's sad, it's embarrassing and it's a tough situation.

Sometimes we make jokes to mask the discontent in our hearts.  In reality we (myself, my husband and children) have grown tired of the situation.  We have cut back on family dinners out to avoid any uncomfortable situations or we attempt to sneak out without her knowing.  I'm not sure where life is going with this issue always hanging out.  I toss and turn if I should seek help for myself; maybe a support group.  I would imagine those types of groups will listen, but what I really want is an answer.  How do I fix this?  What can I do to make this all better?  There aren't answers to those questions.  I know if someone doesn't want to help themselves that it isn't going to happen.  If only she could realize the impact of her actions. 

She has lost my fathers family because of alcohol.  She has lost friends because of alcohol.  All those people have told me they only stuck around because of my dad and no longer feel the need.   Unfortunately I feel all the burden is left on my shoulders, on my immediate families shoulders.  All those people who were there have dropped out of sight.  I can call them, they listen, but it's only sympathy I hear in return and the stern statement that they are done with dealing.   Dealing is the only thing I have left.  My emotions are are constant roller coaster, the stress and anxiety over it takes a toll on a person, on me.  Living with an alcoholic is not fun.

Punished for trying to do the 'right' thing

Whoever heard of punishment for trying to cover your debts?  Several years ago my husband and I decided it was time to move to a bigger house.  We knew we might be housing my parents sometime down the road and were searching for a place with more space. 

With the fall of the economy it was a good time to purchase a home, but a bad time to sell one.  We decided to keep our current family home as a rental property and move into a bigger home better suited for our future needs.  Additionally, I thought the rental property could eventually be sold to fund our lives during retirement.

It wasn't hard to qualify for two mortgages.  Turns out that banks were giving mortgages to people who could not afford them.  According to the mortgage company we cold afford two mortgages as long as we had renters or as it turns out not eat.  There was no discussion or thought if we could afford the two mortgages if we didn't have a renter.  Feeling liberated and set on being grand landlords we set out on our new adventure. 

We later found out later that our mortgage on our first home was written in less than legal terms.   The mortgage company refinanced our first house and then gave us a new loan for the second house.  The type of mortgage for our first house was meant for a homesteaded home and not a rental property. The mortgage company was fully aware of our intentions to rent the first home and live in the second.  This bit of information would create problems down the road.

We started out on our landlord journey learning that there are tons of unscrupulous people in the world.  We had several tenants over the course of a two plus years.  The first tenant signed a lease and then failed to move in.  We had to scramble to find someone new.  This left us two months to cover the mortgage of that house.  The second tenant moved in and out within six months, breaking the lease and destroying the house.

We decided the 'right' thing (or what we felt was the only answer) and fix the house, keep paying the mortgage and find another renter.   The lack of rental income was a huge strain on our finances.  The decision was made to cash out most of my husbands retirement fund to purchase materials to fix the house and keep the mortgage up on the property.  It took three months to fix the house and re-rent.  The cost was thousands of dollars.   The third tenant moved in and paid the rent on time for two months.  Things started going downhill from there.  She stopped paying rent and for two months I called, left notes on the door and mailed her letters regarding the rent.  When I finally spoke with her she said times were tough, etc.  I was forced to file the paperwork to have her legally evicted through the courts.  She continued to live in the house without paying rent for two additonal months.  The day before the Sheriff was to arrive to evict her from my house she left.  This left us with four months of unpaid rent. 

Tax time was upon us by now and since we had cashed out my husbands retirement we learned that even though we paid penalties and taxes at the time, the money pushed our combined income into a new tax bracket. We now owe the IRS $11,000.  We had to set up monthly payments to pay off our debt.

It was a couple of months before we could find another renter.  By this point we had fallen far behind on the mortgage of the rental and our family home in an effort to juggle the debt.  We could not possiby catch up and cover both mortgages.  The renter moved out as the house went into foreclosure, but we were luckily able to save our family home.

Even during foreclosure we attempted to right our issue the best we could.  We contacted a realitor to short sale the house to ease the loss of money.  The house was worth much less than what we owed and figured that we would fair better from a short sale than an out right foreclosure.  Neither foreclosure or short sale were routes either of use felt comfortable with, but there were no options left.  Both of us are honest people to a fault and have always been responsible for our own debt. In past times when money was tight and we were short on paying our bills one of us would get a second job to make ends meet or sell something of value.  Many birthday and Christmas presents made their way to the pawn shop.

But at this point they money owed is far more than either of us could generate in a reasonable amoutn of time.  We received a total of three offers on the house.  Each offer was considered and denied by the mortgage company.  It was determined by the third offer that our mortgage was not eligible to short sale because of the type of mortgage.  We were foreced to give up.

The house went into total foreclosure.  It sat for more than two years as the government and the banking industry fought over the fradulant mortgage market.  Eventually the house sold at auction January of 2012.    We have been lucky that the remainder of the loan has been forgiven, but we did not escape the IRS charging us income tax on that money since the house was not our primary residence. 

Just as we are close to paying off our tax debt for cashing out a 401k and being bumped into a higher tax bracket we are saddled again with a tax debt of $19,000 for the 'forgiven' loan.

Over the past four years I have had multiple people steal money from me by living in my home for free or breaking a rental contract, destroy my property; unexpected tax on money intended to pay off my debt and then taxed again on my poor real estate decision.

My intentions in the beginning were to provide a space for my parents who were facing foreclosure themselves and rent a home with the hopes of one day selling for retirement, but my hopes have fallen way short. 

Many people have purposely let their homes go into foreclosure.  I have seen those same people buy new cars, go on expensive vacations and do pretty much to their hearts content from money that should have been paying the mortgage, property taxes and insurance.  It is true that eventually those people move out of their almost free home and into a rental property and are saddled with a poor credit score.  I too have a poor credit score, but I attempted to pay my mortgage and got taxed only to further tighten my budget.  And just when I see the light at the end of the tunnel I am hit again by more taxes. 

My family vacations are trips to visit family.  There are no extravagant vacations or brand new cars for every family member.  Our monthly payments will continue for several more years to the IRS and once that is finally finished I will begin to dig out of my student loans that have had to sit untouched for years until the budget allows for payment.

While I am dismayed by the way society has ignored their responsibilites since it has directly impacted my life substantially.  I still feel doing the 'right' thing is the 'right' decision even if it will take years to 'right'.

.

Parenting and Heartbreak

Motherhood

I had spent months planning for my first child.   Every moment was planned out from conception to birth.   I remember looking at the empty crib unable to imagine what it would be like for a little person to occupy that space.  I was so excited to begin the part of my life I had dreamed of since I was a small child.  All I ever wanted was to be a mom.  I never had any other aspiration for a career besides parenting. 

At the age of 21 my first child was born.  A son.  It felt so unreal that I walked into the hospital as just me and then suddenly I had a baby.  They just handed him over to me like it was nothing.  He was mine to care for, to teach.  I had some much love for him.  I never thought I could be this in love with another human being.  Even now I tear up over thinking about those feelings.

I miss that dependence from those years.  The overwhelming need that a baby places on you.  You are their everything and they offer unconditional love.  Infancy is a wonderful time of life.

Here I am years upon years later and my baby is no more.  I'm not sure what happened to the time between then and now.  It seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye.  I feel like I did my best as a parent.  Sure, I have regrets about how I handled some things, but there is no handbook on how to be a parent.  You have to learn as you go. 

I spent years fighting for my way to raise my children.  I wanted them to be open minded, accepting, generous and loving.  I wanted my children to be individuals and if they didn't want to be like everyone else, that would be ok. 

You can't predict how your children will grow up.  You must provide a supporting environment as best you can, the rest is up to them.  A mother's love is unending in my book.  No matter what they do or don't do you keep pushing them to try harder, to get to that next mile in life.

Unfortunately life changes, those miles come faster than expected, people grow up and for that I feel utterly heartbroken.  Some may say that is a strong emotion for something many will think is a normal part of life, but it has been my feeling as of late.  Children grow up, they love others, it's all part of life.  But when a mother feels her son loves someone else more than her its a tough pill to swallow.  The tears have been a regular visitor to my face.

Revelation

At 18 I was engaged to my husband.  One day my mother-in-law pulled me aside and said she was not happy I was taking him away from her.  At the time I didn't understand why she was saying this to me and felt hurt by her comment.  After all, I wasn't taking him, he was growing up and moving on.  Isn't that a normal part of life?  I finally understand her statement, her emotion and while she didn't convey it to me in a very pleasant way, I now know too the heartbreak that goes along with this part of life.  The rocky transition into adulthood.

Suddenly you are no longer the center of your child's world.  Whether they are engaged, dating or whatnot, someone else's world will seem so much better than his own.  My son's focus is elsewhere, his mind is preoccupied.  Yet the fact is that he is still the center of mine, the biggest part of my heart.  He was my first giant love.  And no matter what he does or doesn't do, he will always be that to me.

Somehow I must reconcile these feelings, but that seems an uneasy task.  Emotions are a huge part of my personality and no matter how much I try to quell them they keep jumping out of me.
 

Sold an Education I May Never Need

Everyone has been hit by the bad economy in some manner over the past few years.  We've struggled to make ends meet losing jobs, homes and even relationships in the process.  I am not a stranger to the reach of the poor state of the economy.  I haven't had a raise in a few years, lost a home to foreclosure, and added a new member to my household to add to my financial strain.

In an effort to think ahead, to build a career that would be capable of supporting my family for years I finished my college education.  I began school back in 2005 while still working full time and caring for two children still in school also.  I studied day and night to earn my Bachelor's degree.  Upon completion in 2009 the state of the economy was poor.  I kept hearing that education is the key to a long and prosperous career.  I have my Bachelor's degree, but would it be enough to compete in this ever shrinking job market?

I was easily sold on the theory that eduction will set me apart from every other average Joe attempting to find a progressive job.  I decided investing in more eduction would be my ticket to financial freedom down the road.  Already in debt with student loans, I deferred my loans and continued my education with the current educator.  My new goal was a Master of Business Administration.

I must admit that nearly six years of college along with a full time job was tiresome.  Those last few classes were loathsome.  In time I finished my second degree and became a proud owner of an MBA.  With high GPA's and new found knowledge I was proud of my hard work.  Additionally I was certain with this new acronym attached to my name that the offers would come rolling in along with the salary to make paying off those loans a little less painful.   This has not happened.

I am currently in a position of over educated and under employed like many.  As the economy grows I wonder what my future potential may hold. Do I need to add a few certifications to my educational repertoire?  Have I only succeeded in making myself feel smarter, but in reality played a pretty bad hand of cards?

Private universities and colleges are running campaigns on national television selling prospective students on the fictitious ladder of success.  Commercials tell the story of offices moving up to the next level; success is waiting for them to finish that degree.  I played that game and invested in an education I simply can't pay back at this time.  Unfortunately the longer I wait the more my education will cost me. 

I still believe in education.  I want to keep learning something new every day for the rest of my life.  I am dedicated to continue growing in my career.  And as I sit at the top of my game in my current situation, banging my head on the perpetual glass ceiling, I wonder if I will even utilize the knowledge I gained from all the years of studying.  I fear I was sold an education that I may never need.

The Sandwich Generation

I'm nothing new.  I'm nothing ironic.  I'm just another person stuck in the middle.  I am the peanut butter and jelly between two slices of white bread.  I have my children and husband on one side of me and my mother on the other.  I'm stuck in the sandwich generation.

My kids are teenagers going through the usual teenage stuff.  I'm helping them the best I can to get them to that next phase of life - which I can only describe at this point as a semi-independent adult.  For most kids it takes a few tries and sometimes many years to achieve complete and total independence.  I guess you could say my husband and I were a special breed who were able to walk away from home early on and do it on our own without coming back time and time again.  I don't mind that my kids might still live at home into their 20s.  After all, I'm not ready for them to grow up and move out just yet anyway.

My mom has been here now four plus years.  So much has changed over that time and so much has stayed the same.  I admit to have gained some resentment for the situation, but in the end I am glad she is here, that she is safe.  Life at my house is tricky at times.  It's a delicate balance, walking a thin line trying to stay neutral in most all situations.  Even with that I feel stuck, stuck in the middle of my mom and my husband.  Both will tell me, ask me, and complain to me about the other.  I know that both try to keep most of their opinions and thoughts to themselves, but some will always sneak out.  I'm left to listen and try to understand both sides - without taking sides.  Sometimes I wonder how full I can become before I burst at the seams.

My mom is incredibly lonely since the passing of my father in 2008.  We never expect someone to pass, we are never prepared no matter what, but I think the suddenness of my fathers passing made it more difficult to comprehend.  Both my parents were alcoholics.  Mom has continued at her breakneck pace of drinking wine by the gallons.  She doesn't see her drinking as a problem so she doesn't understand what it does to those around her.  It's a sad way to live and a bad wrong way to deal with death.  It's made my position ever so difficult at times.

It's a tough position to be in.  Some days I want to come home from work and go straight to bed.  I don't want to deal with the avoidance of one person and the neediness of the other.  Instead I do what needs to be done. I'm always there to sit at the dinner table with mom even when no one else will.  I know that sometimes that is the only conversation she has all day.  And while I can't be held responsible for all of her happiness, all of her companionship, I still feel the obligation to do what I can to make life a little better for her, no matter the ramifications in my own.  I don't expect anyone else to do this, do these things I do for her.

Being both peanut butter and jelly isn't always fun.  In fact sometimes its downright unpleasant, but like everyone else stuck in the middle caring for two generations of family, I will continue on doing what I do in hopes it's making a difference in their lives.  I don't know any other way to do it.

Birthday Blues

I have to admit that I'm no longer sympathetic.  I've lost my patience.  I no longer feel empathy for a drunken cry.  The words she says, the stories she tells speaks volumes of who she is.  And even though I never knew these things about my mom all of my life, I am learning that she just isn't or wasn't who I ever thought.

My dad was a very patient man.  He loved who he loved and he stood behind them without fail.  In some aspects I am that exact same person.  I've stood behind her all these years woefully unaware of the feelings that swirled around her.  The hurt that she caused.  She was never popular, she was never even well liked.  And in the absense of my father these last four years have proved that matter of factly.

It's my mom's birthday today.  She is 69 years old.  My father lived 71 years.  She is bitter that he is gone.  She is sad that he is gone. I have those same feelings, but for different reasons.  I miss my dad terribly.  I miss that I can't listen to his long stories over and over again; I miss that I can't call him when I have a question about a home repairs anymore.  I miss hearing him call me Kat.  And I'm angry I am left here to deal with the misery my mother has become. 

She says tonight that my dad let his family down.  He didn't take care of himself and died.  He was 71 years old and he had cancer, a lot of cancer.  He wasn't outwardly sick for years, he didn't complain of pain.  He was still working full time barely functioning, but somehow keeping it a secret to everyone.  He was diagnosed with cancer on or around the first couple days of August and he died August 11th.  He didn't complain, he didn't cry, he just quickly slipped away.

I remember one day in the hospital after we found out he was really that sick and it was just the two of us in the room.  I cuddled up next to my dad on his bed.  He held onto my wrist tightly as I put around his chest.  I cried just then, laying next to him knowing what was next to come. 

My family was never particularly affectionate.  We didn't hug and kiss too much while I was growing up.  It felt and still feels awkward to hug my mom.  It's just not there, not in me.  But that day it felt right.  I needed my dad to know I loved him.  He told he should have taken better care of himself.  But my dad took care of himself as best he knew how.   And even if he made mistakes, he drank too much, he smoked too much he still took care of his family best he could and never expected a handout.

Hearing my mom say that tonight was hurtful.  I know she is upset that dad isn't here for another birthday.  The alcohol doesn't help the mood either.  Alcohol played a part in killing my father and it will surely play a role in eventual end of my mothers life.  I guess she can't or won't see that connection.  The fact that she is following the same path. 

I can't get past this wall I have put up.  I can't let myself feel bad for her anymore.  Maybe I am being selfish myself.  Alcoholism makes life kinda tough.

Will I ever be thin enough?

Trapped by a society who thinks thin is the only 'in', I have lived on a roller coaster of weight.  I grew up in a household with a mother who was on a perpetual diet.  Both she and my father maintained slender, if not underweight, bodies.  Even as they aged the notion that they must be thin remained.  When my father passed away almost four years ago I would bet he didn't weigh much more than 90lbs.  He had probably been sick for years, contributing to his frail body, but only admitting and succombing to his illness right at the end of his life.  A few days before my father passed away he said to me 'I should have taken better care of myself'.  Besides the alcohol abuse and the 50+ years of smoking, my father never over indulged in food, he probably never ate an adequate amount of food either.

The fear of becoming overweight prevented both my parents from a healthy lifestyle.  Alcohol and cigarettes became the main staple of their lives.  Many times it was their food.  My mother continues on with that premise giving her an aged beyond her years look and an unhealthy body.  She is oblivious to reality.

I've always tried to keep myself thin.   My average dress size was somewhere between a 4 and 6.  If I crossed over to that hated size 8 I would exercise and starve myself back to where I felt I should be.  That routine has been difficult to maintain as I have aged my life responsibilities have changed.  I'm no longer that skinny size 4 and I don't believe I will ever be again.  I've tried to come to terms with my size 10 pants, but it's difficult in a world of skinny pressures.  I can't say that I will ever be happy at this size, but my will to be that thin has faded.

My mother's continuous commentary on the size of everyone makes me wonder how I ever escaped a life of anexoria.  Her comments on myself and my daughter, while thought to be either meaningless or complimentary, awkwardly turn out to be hurtful.  I can easily stand up for my own child, but I can't seem to find the words to tell her how it hurts me.  I wonder at times how long will I be able to tolerate listening to her on-going tale of being a size 0 before I burst at the seams.

My son's girlfriend confided in me about her families issues with anexoria and the impact it has had on her and her life.  I can't imagine how she must really feel inside.  Conquering your issues with weight is diffiuclt enough, but to add in family who choose to live with anexoria as a lifestyle and continually push it on others must be unbareable.  I hope that she is able to overcome her issues with food and live a happy, healthy life.  It takes a strong mind and heart to stop listening to how others think you should live and live your own life.

I had to make that choice in my life to be who I am no matter what anyone else thinks.  I was a late bloomer in life.  I really didn't grow up until my late 20s.  My shy personality kept me from so many wonderful things in life.  My first hurdle was to become independent and confident.  With both of those traits I learned to love myself for who I am.  I learned to not question myself and be brave.  I don't have to be the thinnest girl in the room anymore.  I can be whoever I want to be and if people don't like me for who I am, no matter what my size, then they are not worth knowing. 

Will I ever be thin enough?  Probably not, but I will be happy with what I am anyway.

Why do high heels have to hurt so much?

Like most women I love shoes.  I have a closet full of high heels for every type of occassion imaginable.  I've been wearing high heels for about eight years now with an average of five days a week.  That's a lot of pressure on my feet.

Before I became a slave to my desk I was an aerobics instructor.  My footwear consisted of sneakers or sandals.  I put a lot of wear on my feet during those years.  I taught many high impact classes and as a result I had a stress fracture in my foot.  But even that didn't stop me from teaching.  I learned to hop around on one foot or land just right so I didn't feel pain.  I'm quite certain the doctor would not have agreed with the abuse I gave that foot, but it's hard to stop someone dedicated to fitness.

As that part of my life phased out and I transitioned into office work I found a penchant for high heels.  Following true to my mother, I have developed bad feet.  Bunions and blisters have been my primary enemy.  And while the pain is quite bad at times I still can't break the habit of wearing heels. 

High heels make me feel thin.  There I said it.  Since I no longer spend hours upon hours exercising I have developed what I call chair butt.  I'm certain the combination of a slower metobolism that comes with age, a more sedentary lifestyle and the unfortunate need for drugs to control my heart I don't have that rail thin body anymore.  I am very aware that wearing a pair of heels doesn't change the size of my back side anymore than it would change the number on the scale.  They just make me feel better about myself.

My mom's feet are awful.  Her bunions are huge and her toes are permanently bent and overlapping.  I don't want those feet when I get older.  I realize exactly that is potentially on the horizon for me if I don't make a change. 

I would estimate my feet hurt about 75% of the time now.  It doesn't matter if I am barefoot, wearing sandals  or heels the pain is non stop.  I consider having surgery to take care of the bunion issue which is likely the cause of most of the pain, but mentally I'm not prepared to give up my heels. 

Life is a balancing act

It's been a little over a week since the teenager moved in and it's been more of a challenge than I imaged.  He isn't our first house guest as such.  A few summers ago one of my daughters friends stayed with us for nearly a month.  It wasn't because she wasn't able to go home, but her home was a small two bedroom duplex that housed two adults and four children.  She was just looking for a place to stretch out for a bit and our home fit her need at the moment.  She didn't expect anything from us and was never a problem to have around.  She was happy to have a family around such as mine.

This young man staying with us comes from a difficult home and a lot of baggage.  He needs help getting himself on the right track to adulthood, but I'm unsure if we are the right people to help him get there.  Some of the issue is basic distrust.  We haven't known him long enough to feel really comfortable with him in our home.  Maybe something we should have considered before we agreed to the situation.  Hindsight is always 20/20.  I have tried to encourage him to look for a part time work and scolded him when he skipped school.  Rules are present wherever you go, something he fails to grasp.  I've treated him like one of my own this past week hoping he will feel at home. 

Life is a difficult balancing act.  There doesn't seem to be any directions to take you from point A to point B.  Some days I wish I knew exactly what to expect and where life was headed, because then I would be prepared for each step ahead. I would brace myself for the impact of uncertain events with prepared reactions and emotions or be ready to celebrate in the event of unexpected triumph.

I envy people who say their lives are in balance. People who live an existence without the rolling turmoil of an unbalanced life.  But does that truly exist anyway?  So many life with a false facade surrounding their beings.

In our daily balancing act, what we can predict is how we will react to the situations that arise in our lives.  In this journey I call life I hope to share who I am and what I have, but I can only stretch so far.  Life is not predictable, it's not going to be easy no matter which path you take.  And sometimes doing what you feel is the right thing isn't always the best thing. 

Teaching your children altruism

I grew up in a household that was giving.  We lived in a medium sized college town.  The local school is small and private, but was directly across the street from my childhood home.  Over the years college aged kids would come through our house as frequent dinner guests.  My parents acted as their surrogate parents while they finished growing up in the 80s.  And even though we were quite poor my parents always made it a point to share what we had.

As an adult I have tried to instill that lesson within my own children.  I am happy to say that they are the most generous, caring and giving children I have ever met. This brings me back to my last blog, Who will love your children?  My son's friend moved into our home last night.  He brought with him very little simply because he has very little.  After learning that my son had been buying him dinner almost every night after school and even took it upon himself to buy the kid shoes when he needed it I was beaming with pride.  He didn't do these things for the recognition, he didn't even tell me until yesterday; he did it because he saw someone struggling, someone in need. 

In the past he has come home from school and asked if he could give another kid a pair of his black dress pants.  After all, he as a couple pairs and the kid had none to wear for an upcoming band concert.  A teacher once told us that he is such a nice kid that she believed he would literally give another child the shirt off his back.  My son just cares about others.

My only concern with my son's generosity is being taken advantage of.  If I think back to my parents, my father in particular, he did what was necessary to make others happy.  He worked in a family business and when it was time to sell the business and move on, he gave all of his proceeds/earnings to his parents for their retirement.  While this left us in bad situation, he felt that was his duty, his obligation. 

I have opened my home to my mother since my father's passing in 2008.  She doesn't pay rent, utilities, phone, cable.  She isn't asked to do anything.  I somehow feel this is my duty, my obligation following closely in my fathers footsteps.  Here in lies my personal battle.  Am I being taken advantage of?  I have spoke about my trials and tribulations with my situation and I often times wonder if my generosity and how I have taught my children to follow is going to lead them down the same path.

My son asked me yesterday if I think it would be ok for him to buy his friend a laptop.  He has been working full time for a couple of months now and earns a decent salary for a teen.   I told him that I think everything he has done is great and I am proud of how he is stepping up to help someone in need, but also that he has to draw the line somewhere.  He can't be this kids mother, he can't do it all for him.  This kid has to grow up a little too, he has to become responsible for himself.  Those perks aren't something that he should be buying for him.  And while my son understands this I know that he will continue to give to this kid and I worry he will over do it. 

My children see me giving everyday by trying to keep the peace at home.  I attempt to always sit with mom for dinner even if it means skipping a night out with friends or hurrying through work obligations. I try to make it a point to take her places on the weekends and I feel I've gone the extra mile to make her feel at home.  But in reality, my  mother, while in her late 60s, is perfectly capable of caring for herself, supporting herself.  She is fully able to work a part time job for a few extra bucks to pay for her own cell phone or just to have something to do.  Instead, just as my father, she has left all financial burdens and social interactions on me and my family and expecting for the same care she received from my father. 

Have I made a mistake by showing my children what altruism means?  Have I rendered them to a position where they sometimes will forget about themselves too often?  I want my children to give, I want them to recognize that they are fortunate for what they have, but I don't want them to suffer in the end and give up too much. 

Who will love your children?

I constantly amazed by the number of children who are homeless.  My children have several friends each who do not live in their own homes, with their own family.  Some were kicked out of their homes for getting pregnant and others just can't seem to get along with their parents so they either left or were forced to leave.  Tonight my son asked us if his friend could live with us.  His friend currently lives with his father and stepmother.  Tomorrow he turns 18 which means he is apparently no longer welcome in his home.

It's heart breaking the disfunction these kids live with.  Our children make mistakes.  Some are worse than others, but kicking them out doesn't teach any life lessons.  It's not breaking the cycle of misfortune, it's adding to it.  And who is left to pick up the pieces for these children?  It's parents like us that must take on the task of raising someone else's child. 

I have taken leftovers to the homes of my children's friends so that they could have a hot meal for dinner.  I have given clothing, purchased extra at the grocery store and offered my couch on more than one occasion to kids in need.  I have soft spot for kids, even kids in crisis because I believe every child deserves a chance.
When we decided to have children it was a life-long commitment.  Our children will be part of our lives forever.  I would never consider telling them they are no longer welcome in this house.  It's their house too.  I'm heart broken thinking about how these children must feel. 

Starting tomorrow I will open my home up indefinetly to another child.  While he may be a legal adult in the eyes of the law, he is still a child that needs guidance, needs shelter and needs love.  My story of a multi-generational family is growing to include more than my own family.

What's for dinner?

Every day is a new challenge living in a household of five.  The biggest issue we face on a daily basis is dinner.  My family lives in a fast paced, busy household.  It seems everyone is going in six different directions at any given time.  I'm quite certain this is normal for most households today, but in my mom's lifetime things have never been so chaotic.  Life moves at a slow, even pace and everything is done the same almost daily.  She has a lot of time to think about what she has to do next and included in that is dinner. 

I asked Mom a couple of years ago if she would like to help out by cooking dinner.  At that time I was planning the menu, doing the shopping and she was preparing the meal.  Since then she started buying some of the food and still cooking.  The problem is that I have a very picky family and our schedules are so that it makes it difficult for all of us to be home for dinner daily.  Both hubby and I work more than 40  hours per week making it difficult to always be home and ready to eat by 6:00 PM.  Additionally, my daughter recently started a job a few evenings a week and my son goes to night school.  Needless to say, these implications don't play out well in the scheme of a nightly family dinner.

I feel guilty when I can't make it home on time or have to cancel dinner because of conflicting schedules.  I understand that she is home alone all day and this is her time to be with the family and that is the main reason for my guilt.  The other side of this is that the rest of the family would rather not eat what she cooks so many times when they are available for dinner they find other reasons to stay away.

I carry a lot of guilt when it pertains to my mother.  A better description might contain the word conflicted.  I am conflicted between trying to keep her happy, keep the peace between my family, filling my work obligations and still maintaining a life outside of all of that.  I don't believe there is a true balance for any of that.  It's simply too much.  And while those I have confinded in for advice or just as a relief to get it off my chest will say you need to stand up for yourself and put things into perspective for her, I just can't.  Just as my brother says 'it's just easier this way'.  But in reality, easier for who?

I'm certain I can't possibly be alone in this type of situation/lifestyle.  I know there are others out there caring for aging parents or even living with alcoholics, but where are you?

Sometimes sad

I was a little sad this morning.  I got into  mom's car to drive to work (we sometimes must play musical cars to get everyone to where they need to be) and as usual the belt is squeeling.  While this isn't the end of the world it made me think about something.  In the past this is something my dad would have taken care of, but since dad isn't here anymore this task has fallen on my husband.  He has tried to fix the issue several times and can't seem to figure it out.  Further he has told mom on at least four occassions that she needs to take the car to the shop to get it fixed.  Again, this would have been dad's job and this makes me a little frustrated.  Subsequently the problem has fallen on me.  Why did my dad do everything and why did he leave my family to take over his responsibilities?  I have a husband, two teenage children and a full time job.  Now I have another responsibility because she was so spoiled all those years with dad she expects everyone else to take care of her problems; everyone but herself.

I texted my brother expressing my feelings which equated to losing my mind.  He responded back with something to the effect of "it's too early for this foolishness".  It was enough to make me smile and I felt a little better.  He was right, it was too early in the morning, too much to do today to be out of sorts.  I had to get on with my day.

I spoke mom about taking care of the problem on the way to dinner tonight.  She was less than receptive, a bit curt even, noting that dad usually took care of the car and she knows she has to now.  Then she started to cry and I felt bad. 

Everyone was out tonight so when I decided to take mom to dinner I was thinking about a little shoe shopping after, but as usual alcohol affected the evening.  I didn't even mention the shoe shopping because she clearly had too much to drink by the end of dinner.  That really makes me sad. 

I feel like its been years since I had a mom.  There was a short time she stopped drinking and I really felt like I had my mom back.  That was around 4-5 years ago and it was very short lived.  I'm the mother in this relationship.  That makes me sad too.  It's not supposed to be how life is when you are only 40 years old.

Life in a multi-generation house

My life is a reality tv show.  I mean seriously where are those cameras hidden?  If you had told me 10 years ago that I would have a parent living with me I would have laughed at you.  That could never happen, but guess what, it did.  And here I am 3 1/2 years into this living arrangement that has no forseen end.

The other night was hubby's birthday and we all went to dinner.  Now on most occasions our family dinners out end with some type of turmoil.  Daughter argues with son, father argues with daughter.  We are your typical American family with teenagers that know everything and parents struggling to handle it. 

Tonight was different - abeit something that I have seen coming over the past year.  This time it was mom's turn.  We arrived at the Hard Rock Cafe for hubby's birthday meal.  It's always loud in the Hard Rock, but there is so much to look at that really it just adds to the atmosphere.  Service is always slow at this place, but we are out to have a nice evening so it doesn't really bother most of us.  Actually it only bothers mom.  She has become quite impatient over the past years.  It seems life just doesn't happen fast enough for her. I would think most people her age (68) would want it to slow down because it's all happening too fast. 

Quick question.  Why do older people think that with age you earn pure unfiltered verbiage?  Seriously, just because you are 68 doesn't mean you can say anything at anytime.  The people around you still have feelings no matter what your age is.

Anyway, meals start coming out and low and behold the waiter forgot to put in mom's order.  Yes, I agree a little frustrating, but really not the end of the world.  But to my mom, this is unforgiveable.  Aided by mulitple glasses of wine that day, my mother starts to rip the waiter apart.  I felt so bad for the guy.  His big eyes were crushed.  The slip of the order was purely an accident.  We are all human and accidents happen, but not to my mom, not to her dinner.  The waiter is off to the kitchen to crank up the order and we are left sitting with a pissed off lady.  She begins ranting on about how she isn't paying for dinner now (she had volunteered to cover the bill since it was hubby's birthday). 

At this point I am very fortunate to have a patient husband.  He says to her 'don't let this ruin  your evening.'  Mom is ready to stand her ground and let it ruin her life if necessary.  I follow up with 'you aren't going to ruin our evening'.  With that said she sits.  Her dinner arrives and she still sits.  No eating, not talking, just sitting, arms crossed like a 5 year old.

We finish dinner and I escort her outside with daughter while hubby pays the bill.  I decide we should take some pictures in front of the Hard Rock sign.  Mom slowly stumbles behind us as we walk up the sidewalk.  This is when I realize that she is really drunk.  She is having a hard time walking. 

As we turn to walk to the car she latches on to my arm to keep herself upright.  I'm not well versed at guiding a drunken person anywhere so this is a challenge for me.  I'm being pulled in every which direction.

I don't know how to deal with this. 

It must be tough to be a teenager

We've all been there - the teenage years.  When I was a teenager and deep in the throws of adolesant relationships I would pour my heart out to my diary.  Each page was filled with emotions of joy, happiness, sadness and despair.  The hormonal rollercoaster teenage girls go through add to the drama of their lives.

I filled several books with my life during my teenage years.  I seldom wrote about fights with friends or discontent with my parents.  My diary was full of my latest love and how I don't think I could ever live without him.  Two pages later I would be on to a new love followed by more heartbreak.

Teens today take to the internet to express their feelings and emotions.  Facebook seems to be an open board to share every last detail in various acronyms and codes.  How the world has changed.  I could never have imagined telling the world about my angst over a boy.  Yet many teens are insistant on spreading their drama far and wide.  Skeletons in the closet?  Never in 2011.  There are no closets to hide your embarrassing secrets.  Everything you say and do is recorded forever on the web. 

They say employers now look at your Facebook, Twitter and any other social network before considering hiring you for a job.  Background investigations now encompass far more than just an arrest history.  Where will these kids be in ten years when their words come back to haunt them?

I participate in social networking and firmly believe it has a lot to offer, but I am cautious of what I say.  I don't use social media as a platform to spread my business.  It's there purely for entertainment for me. 

It must be tough to be a teenager with no place to hide your problems because they will forever be written in air.