People automatically assume that, because I don't have kids, that I hate kids. Not true at all. In fact there was a time when I thought I wanted to have kids. And yes, I said it that way purposefully. I thought I wanted kids. When I was young(er) and just married, the subject came up often. Having kids, what would we name them when we have them (I wanted Zoe Angelina for a girl - at the time, neither name was popular. I always loved the name Zoe and Angelina would be after my Grandmother... now? Yikes, there's probably 3 or 4 of each in every classroom in the country!). But I wanted time. Time to see what I wanted to do before my life became centered around a little one or two.
When you have an Italian family, you have to be prepared for all the "when are you getting married's" and "when are you going to have kids" and my personal fave, "why don't you have a baby for your mother." And the more these things were said to me, the more I resented the fact that this was expected. And I'd get angry and lash out at whichever old Italian relative was saying it to me. Why did I have to have a baby? Why did I have to put my body through that torture and give myself up to the screaming, eating poop machine all for the sake of my mom's happiness at being a grandma? Isn't this my life after all? Don't I get to make that call? More and more it became very clear to me over these years that this was not what I wanted at all.
When I was younger, I never had dreams of being a mommy. Sure I played with dolls and stuff when I was little. But when I got my first Barbie, it was game over. Barbie was hip and stylish and she did not drive a mini van and take kids to soccer practice, she drove a Corvette and went out on dates with Ken (and sometimes the tramp cheated on Ken with GI Joe. What can I say, my Barbie loved a man in uniform). Barbie was cool. She had the life. I identified with her way more than little girls who were still playing with Baby Alive (if you don't recall this doll, she moved her mouth like she was eating and you fed her the baby food that came with the doll and then she'd poop it out). Barbie's life was way more on par with what I saw myself wanting.
The thought of pregnancy, childbirth and taking care of an infant were terrifying. The idea that this little helpless being was going to depend on me for everything brought on the panic. Is it what I want? Is it something I feel I need to be fulfilled? The answer kept coming back, No. No, it's not what I want. No, I don't need a baby to feel fulfilled. No, I'm not going to have a baby just for the sake of having one or because it's expected. No, I'm not going to do this so my mom can be a grandma. The decision was made. My decision. The one that felt right for me.
And then I reached 40. And more panic set in. Up until then, even though I knew the decision was made, there was still a little crack in the door that made it still a possibility. But 40 shut that door and locked it. Oh sure, I know many woman have babies after 40, but I did not want to be one of them. I shut that door and threw away the key all on my own, and then I went into a kind of freak out mode.... what if I made the wrong decision! That's the thing about decisions I guess, you have to trust it to be right or you will always wonder if it's wrong. I was able to make peace with my decision, again, and have never looked back. No regrets. I have two nieces I adore. My BFF has three girls (one is my Goddaughter) that are like three more nieces. Other friends and family members have kids and I love them all. I'm glad I can be cool (or crazy, depending on your perspective) Aunt Lalia. I would be there for any of those kids in a heartbeat.
When I meet new people and they ask me if I have kids, I reply "No, by choice" because just saying "No" was always met with a sad look of sympathy. Not having kids does not mean I can't take care of child nor does it mean I hate kids. Just as having kids doesn't automatically make one a great parent.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
What the? An Award? For me!?
Blog awards are so fun! They arrive out the blue, sometimes when you're feeling you've lost your way. Sometimes when it feels like you have nothing more to say, someone sends you a blogger award to remind you that you do, or that what you have said means something. So for that, I thank Muriel at 40blogSpot. She has bestowed on me the Liebster Blog Award. If you haven't checked out her blog yet, you should. She gets straight to the heart of the matter and pulls no punches. It's what I love about it.
The Liebster Blog Award is given to bloggers with less than 200 followers, all in the spirit of fostering new connections. And here are the rules:
1) Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
2) Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment in their blog.
3) Post the award on your blog.
4) Bask in the love from the most supportive people on the internet - other writers.
5) And best of all, have fun and spread the karma.
And so, without further ado, my 5 blog picks and now Liebster recipients.
1) Adventures of the Hope Warriors - Written mostly by Dale, but sometimes by Jackie, this blog is about Jackie's journey with lung cancer. She happens to be one of my best friends and I'm proud to day I am a Hope Warrior.
2) The Underwear Chronicles - Judy is just starting out, she only has two posts so far. But what I've seen I have liked. She's also a dear friend and one of the most supportive people I know.
3) Catharsis - Joy's blog is sweet and fun and refreshing and she's a doll. Love this blog.
4) Don't Hang Up - Pennie's blog is inspirational, informative and just plain interesting. Plus she herself is the best commenter ever. When she comments on your blog, it is always thoughtful, meaningful and I just get happy whenever I see one from her.
5) Reflections from a Red Head - Janine's blog is always great but I urge you to go now more than ever. She has started a new series called "The Beauty of Difference" that I love. As someone who has felt different from others for most of my life for one reason or another, I love how this series embraces those differences.
So there they are. Enjoy, read, comment and write.
The Liebster Blog Award is given to bloggers with less than 200 followers, all in the spirit of fostering new connections. And here are the rules:
1) Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
2) Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment in their blog.
3) Post the award on your blog.
4) Bask in the love from the most supportive people on the internet - other writers.
5) And best of all, have fun and spread the karma.
And so, without further ado, my 5 blog picks and now Liebster recipients.
1) Adventures of the Hope Warriors - Written mostly by Dale, but sometimes by Jackie, this blog is about Jackie's journey with lung cancer. She happens to be one of my best friends and I'm proud to day I am a Hope Warrior.
2) The Underwear Chronicles - Judy is just starting out, she only has two posts so far. But what I've seen I have liked. She's also a dear friend and one of the most supportive people I know.
3) Catharsis - Joy's blog is sweet and fun and refreshing and she's a doll. Love this blog.
4) Don't Hang Up - Pennie's blog is inspirational, informative and just plain interesting. Plus she herself is the best commenter ever. When she comments on your blog, it is always thoughtful, meaningful and I just get happy whenever I see one from her.
5) Reflections from a Red Head - Janine's blog is always great but I urge you to go now more than ever. She has started a new series called "The Beauty of Difference" that I love. As someone who has felt different from others for most of my life for one reason or another, I love how this series embraces those differences.
So there they are. Enjoy, read, comment and write.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Anxious
I have a confession to make. It might not be a big revelation because I think I've either eluded to it or mentioned it before. I suffer from anxiety. It's not crippling. It's not severe. But it is enough that I need medication (as needed) for it.
I did not make my First Communion with my class because I was so riddled with fear about it. As if making it by myself was any better. No one could figure out what was wrong with me. They just didn't have a name for it back then. But I knew when one of these attacks was going to hit. I could feel it. It's a tingly sensation in my head, then I'd get really hot and sweaty even if it was freezing. And then I couldn't think of anything but having to leave. The words, "I want to go home" were all that would go through my mind. And once home, I was fine. Like nothing ever happened.
It started when I was about 7 or 8 years old and back then there wasn't a name for it. I was just a high strung kid, afraid of her own shadow. I so clearly remember my fears really coming to light. I didn't know what the fears were specifically but I felt fear. I would get nervous with my stomach in knots. My mom had to pick me up from school so many times that eventually she refused and told them that she would not come and to send me back to my classroom. I guess I can't blame her for that. It had to be frustrating as hell. Here I was, absolutely fine whenever I was at home. But when I had to go to school I suddenly became a mass of nerves so tight that sometimes I even threw up from the stress of it.
Eventually I grew out of it. And it didn't come back again until I was an adult. My first adult panic attack happened in 1993 when I was planning my wedding. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, I was driving to work when all of a sudden it hit. Well I take that back, kind of. Nothing happened at that moment but my mom was giving me a lot of grief during the planning. She hated my dress, she hated the things I wanted (not a mass, a ceremony), she was mad I didn't ask my sister to be my maid of honor. Was it really such a problem that I wanted a rip away dress and mosh pit at my wedding? I promised to not get that going until all the old Italians left. It went on and on, everything was a problem and I didn't realize how much it was all getting to me until that one day, driving to work. It had been so long since I had a panic attack that I didn't even know I was having one. I thought I was having a heart attack or a stroke. I detoured myself from driving to work and instead went to my parents house and they rushed me to the ER, where we found out what was really going on. Then it all clicked into place. This is what was happening to me as a kid. Panic attacks!
Knowing what it is was kind of a relief. After that one in '93, they stopped again. It would be years before I would have another. And that happened in 2006. I had been thinking a lot about how my parents were aging. How things were going to change. How my grandma was not going to be around forever. How a lot of their care would fall on me. And it hit. It hit like a ton of bricks. Fear, panic. What would I do? How would I handle it? What's going to happen? Why was I in this alone even though I have two brothers and a sister? But I would be, pretty much. One brother lives in Florida, my sister lives in Alabama. My other brother is local but he and his wife both work and they have two kids, so my reliance on them for help was going to be minimal. I will say however, that when it's really really counted, he's been there.
It was only a year later that the shit really hit the fan and I was put to the test. My father became ill. And through it all not once did I have a panic attack. I fell right into control mode. I took over and did what had to be done. I took care of my mother while my father was laid up in a hospital in a strange city in a far away state for weeks and weeks. I questioned the doctors about everything while my mom remained in kind of semi-shock. I took notes on every single thing every doctor said. I was at that hospital day and night. I put cold compresses on his brow when he was feeling anxious himself. And when his anxiety really kicked about all that was happening to him, I got the doctor to give him the same medication I use (Ativan, the wonder drug). And when they moved him to a horrible facility for his rehab, I got him out and had him placed somewhere better. And it felt natural to me to be in this role because I am such a control freak.
Generally speaking there is no rhyme or reason anymore, at least for me, as to when one will hit. It's these two strange aspects to my make up that I don't understand and maybe never will. How can the thought, whether conscious or unconscious about something terrible happening send me into physical panic but the actual event taking place does not. It's times like that the weakness I feel for having panic attacks morphs into a strength I never new I had.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Take Your Misery Somewhere Else
I've known and still know people who seem to live in misery. Everything is horrible. They constantly bitch. Nothing good ever happens. There are no laughs. It's just a long life of nothing but drudgery. Why live that way? Granted I have my moments, but in general I have a lot of joy.
Take my in laws for example, mother in law and sister in law. Two peas in a pod they are. They live in misery, and by that I mean that they truly seem to hate their lives, everyone around them, and everything they do. Mother in law is the worst. She is never happy. She constantly, and I do mean constantly, bitches at father in law. If he said the sky was blue, she would argue with him that it's green just to argue. Does that sound like I'm exaggerating the issue? Because I'm not. She hates him. And her misery at never having left, never having changed her life, never doing a damn thing about it, filters over onto everyone. She is mean and hateful, as I've written about here. And the funny thing is, I always noticed it. I've known this family since 1987 and I noticed it immediately, but no one else did. Or they were immune to it. When I asked the man what was up with his parents way back in those early days, he didn't know what I was talking about. It never dawned on him that it was a little odd that his parents had separate bedrooms. Now I know people have separate bedrooms for a variety of reasons, not the least of which are snoring problems, but this was not for any other reason than their relationship was over. And it's been over. And yet they stay together I guess because neither knows what else to do. It's sad. An existence that is merely that, an existence. No laughs, no love, no sex, no conversations that aren't arguments. Who would want to live like that?
Which brings me to sister in law. She who had a front row seat to this behavior and has adopted it for herself. She barks at her husband every chance she gets, which is whenever they speak. Very often I've wondered why things like that aren't kept private. I mean if you want to bitch out your husband, does it have to be at a family function? Can we not have our 5 fucking 30 cake in peace without all this drama because he doesn't hold the fucking fork the way you do?
Like I said, I've had my moments. But I could write a blog like the one previous to this one, which was introspective, kind of sad and depressing, and then the minute I hit post something could happen that will make me laugh, a real laugh. Not a polite one. It could be something someone says, something I read, or most likely something stupid that I do myself. And most of that sour mood will vanish. It won't make the issue go away, but it will lift the mood. And then I'm back. I'm back to being the same 45 year old purple haired, tattooed horn dog who can't seem to get enough sex, enough laughs, enough music, enough love, and enough of life to suit me. I don't ever want to be one of these miserable people. I want to experience everything. I want to cook the greatest meal. I want to fuck my brains out. I want to see the best live music. I want to have a lifetime of joy and laughter. And no one will stop me from having it.
Take my in laws for example, mother in law and sister in law. Two peas in a pod they are. They live in misery, and by that I mean that they truly seem to hate their lives, everyone around them, and everything they do. Mother in law is the worst. She is never happy. She constantly, and I do mean constantly, bitches at father in law. If he said the sky was blue, she would argue with him that it's green just to argue. Does that sound like I'm exaggerating the issue? Because I'm not. She hates him. And her misery at never having left, never having changed her life, never doing a damn thing about it, filters over onto everyone. She is mean and hateful, as I've written about here. And the funny thing is, I always noticed it. I've known this family since 1987 and I noticed it immediately, but no one else did. Or they were immune to it. When I asked the man what was up with his parents way back in those early days, he didn't know what I was talking about. It never dawned on him that it was a little odd that his parents had separate bedrooms. Now I know people have separate bedrooms for a variety of reasons, not the least of which are snoring problems, but this was not for any other reason than their relationship was over. And it's been over. And yet they stay together I guess because neither knows what else to do. It's sad. An existence that is merely that, an existence. No laughs, no love, no sex, no conversations that aren't arguments. Who would want to live like that?
Which brings me to sister in law. She who had a front row seat to this behavior and has adopted it for herself. She barks at her husband every chance she gets, which is whenever they speak. Very often I've wondered why things like that aren't kept private. I mean if you want to bitch out your husband, does it have to be at a family function? Can we not have our 5 fucking 30 cake in peace without all this drama because he doesn't hold the fucking fork the way you do?
Like I said, I've had my moments. But I could write a blog like the one previous to this one, which was introspective, kind of sad and depressing, and then the minute I hit post something could happen that will make me laugh, a real laugh. Not a polite one. It could be something someone says, something I read, or most likely something stupid that I do myself. And most of that sour mood will vanish. It won't make the issue go away, but it will lift the mood. And then I'm back. I'm back to being the same 45 year old purple haired, tattooed horn dog who can't seem to get enough sex, enough laughs, enough music, enough love, and enough of life to suit me. I don't ever want to be one of these miserable people. I want to experience everything. I want to cook the greatest meal. I want to fuck my brains out. I want to see the best live music. I want to have a lifetime of joy and laughter. And no one will stop me from having it.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Wonder
Over the past couple of weeks I haven't had much to say. It's a first I assure you. I know I'm not done telling you my goofy stories. I know there are things going on my life I'd like to write about. So why can't I just sit down and do it? I don't know. Have I completely lost my mojo? My ability to express myself? My humor? My bawdiness? Nah. I'm just in a rut because nothing really good has happened lately. The man is still out of work. Six months now. My business is slow, very slow. Things kind of blow right now and I'm tired. Really really tired. A lot.
But I have a fantasy world that I escape to. Where money isn't a concern, it's just there when needed. In fact, in my fantasy world I never think of money at all. I can spend it if needed or not. I can shop or not. I can go out to eat or cook for myself. It's a happy place, my fantasy world, where I'm thin and happy. When I'm there I think about sex. A lot of sex, which I guess makes it a lot like my real world in that way. But my fantasy world takes me to a place where all I have to think about is happiness and pleasure and none of the day to day drudgery that I seem to be facing lately. It sounds like a pretty great place to go. And he's there. The one I dream about. The one who dreams about me. And we're living, loving and fucking. It's an amazing dream that gives me moments of happiness hope when so often lately I feel hopeless.
I don't know where the fantasy world is but it's not Akron, Ohio. In my dream of dreams, I don't dream of living here. It's not that I dislike it, it's that it's not a place I feel I belong. At times I think I'm destined for greatness. And whether or not that sounds egotistical, is not a concern to me. Greatness doesn't come from Akron, unless you're Chrissie Hynde or Lebron James. Do I have a destiny really? Or do I have delusions of grandeur. At 45 years old, is this my mid-life crisis? A crisis where I'm just sick of my life and want to leave it all behind and start over? Can't I just be like a guy and buy a fucking motorcycle and be done with it? Why the introspection? Why the feelings of utter failure? Where do I go from here?
I have no doubt that I am loved by the people in my life. And yet, there's always something missing. Something that is just out of my reach. Something I want to achieve. Somewhere I want to be. And it aches deep inside that I cannot get to it. I don't know where to go to find it. I don't know how to make it happen. And I feel helpless and weak. I feel failure. I feel like I'll never know what it is and wonder. Wonder what it could be that I'm missing. Will I always wonder?
But I have a fantasy world that I escape to. Where money isn't a concern, it's just there when needed. In fact, in my fantasy world I never think of money at all. I can spend it if needed or not. I can shop or not. I can go out to eat or cook for myself. It's a happy place, my fantasy world, where I'm thin and happy. When I'm there I think about sex. A lot of sex, which I guess makes it a lot like my real world in that way. But my fantasy world takes me to a place where all I have to think about is happiness and pleasure and none of the day to day drudgery that I seem to be facing lately. It sounds like a pretty great place to go. And he's there. The one I dream about. The one who dreams about me. And we're living, loving and fucking. It's an amazing dream that gives me moments of happiness hope when so often lately I feel hopeless.
I don't know where the fantasy world is but it's not Akron, Ohio. In my dream of dreams, I don't dream of living here. It's not that I dislike it, it's that it's not a place I feel I belong. At times I think I'm destined for greatness. And whether or not that sounds egotistical, is not a concern to me. Greatness doesn't come from Akron, unless you're Chrissie Hynde or Lebron James. Do I have a destiny really? Or do I have delusions of grandeur. At 45 years old, is this my mid-life crisis? A crisis where I'm just sick of my life and want to leave it all behind and start over? Can't I just be like a guy and buy a fucking motorcycle and be done with it? Why the introspection? Why the feelings of utter failure? Where do I go from here?
I have no doubt that I am loved by the people in my life. And yet, there's always something missing. Something that is just out of my reach. Something I want to achieve. Somewhere I want to be. And it aches deep inside that I cannot get to it. I don't know where to go to find it. I don't know how to make it happen. And I feel helpless and weak. I feel failure. I feel like I'll never know what it is and wonder. Wonder what it could be that I'm missing. Will I always wonder?
Monday, August 15, 2011
My 7 Links - Be Afraid!
Thank you to Janine at Reflections From a Redhead, for nominating me for the #My7Links project. Like her, I guess I was living under a rock because I never heard of this but I'm here and ready to give it a go. Why the hell not. My blog is one year old today and instead of having a party, I will look back at all the dirt I've spilled, stories I've told, insanity I've experienced, and all the stuff I've blabbed about in my goofy life.
Most Beautiful Post: Interesting. I don't often write of beauty. I write what moves me, what compels me. I may start out with a clear idea in mind of something I want to write about but then when I sit down to write it, it ends up going in a completely different direction. When that kept happening I decided that it's better for me to just sit down and see where my fingers go on the keyboard. But this one, Sold, holds a lot of importance to me. It's full of memories of growing up and being in my Grandmother's house. I love this post and I think it conveys the beauty and the love I had for one of the most important women in my life.
Most Popular Post of All Time: This was easy, and in truth I think that this post fits into almost every category I'll be covering today. You Are Beautiful is about my niece and the troubles she's experienced throughout her days in school from grades 1-8. Fittingly, today is her first day of high school and I hope it's a new beginning for her. This post struck a cord with many and got me the most hits out of any post I had ever written. It made me cry when I wrote it and makes me cry every time I read it.
Most Controversial Post: This was also an easy one to pick. It was chosen for a very good reason since it could very easily offend a lot of people. So fair warning if you do click the link for Turning a Corner. It's about words, certain words that we give power to offend and overcoming that. It will probably still offend but I guess it wouldn't be considered controversial if it didn't offend at least someone. At certain times I've thought about removing it, then I read it again and the truth is, I really like it. So it stays. A friend of mine told me once that it's my blog and I should say whatever I want. And she's right. And well, I sure as hell have said whatever I want!
Most Helpful Post: Now we're getting into a spot where I'm not really sure what post of mine could be considered helpful. But then it hit me like a ton of bricks, Screw Guilt should be considered helpful. It helped me look past the circumstances going on in my life and towards something else. It helped me to realize that I can't always be everything to everyone and that sometimes you just have to do the things that make you happy. In the big scheme when I'm old and in adult diapers, mind wandering aimlessly from butterflies to pudding cups, the thought, "dammit, I should have paid more than the minimum monthly requirement on that bill back in 2011" probably won't cross my mind. So fucking screw guilt! Live.
A Post Whose Success Surprises Me: I think the part that surprises me most is how many women, like myself, don't know their bra size. And hell, after a trilogy of posts on the subject, starting with Embracing the Third D, I still don't know if mine is accurate! But I persevered through it and lived to tell Embracing the Third D Part II and Embracing the Third D Epilogue. I guess that's technically three posts, which will make this my 9 links, but once a rebel always a rebel.
A Post I Feel Didn't Get the Attention it Deserves: All of them! Eh, OK. Not really. But Realizing My Worth is one that I guess for me embodies a lot of emotion for me and might have actually been the first time I really opened up about myself and my life on the blog. It was written only a week or so after I started the blog but it showed me what I can achieve with it, how I can express myself and how this blog could really be the outlet that I've been looking for, for so long.
The Post I'm Most Proud Of: This was an exercise in #PBAU, the bloggers group I am privileged to be a part of just a few weeks ago. Seven and Seven was a very difficult blog to write but it is one that I am the most proud of. Proud of it in many ways. The fact that I was able to write it at all. This was the first time I ever wrote it down. I'm proud that I was able to share it. And I'm very proud that I never let it rule me, confine me, or define me.
Damn, that was tough, but interesting and kind of fun too. Thanks again for nominating me Janine. I feel truly honored. And now it's my turn to bestow the honor on a few other unsuspecting fools =)
I chose Aaron at Aaron Outward
Eric at I've Become My Parents
And Joy at Catharsis
Good luck!
Most Beautiful Post: Interesting. I don't often write of beauty. I write what moves me, what compels me. I may start out with a clear idea in mind of something I want to write about but then when I sit down to write it, it ends up going in a completely different direction. When that kept happening I decided that it's better for me to just sit down and see where my fingers go on the keyboard. But this one, Sold, holds a lot of importance to me. It's full of memories of growing up and being in my Grandmother's house. I love this post and I think it conveys the beauty and the love I had for one of the most important women in my life.
Most Popular Post of All Time: This was easy, and in truth I think that this post fits into almost every category I'll be covering today. You Are Beautiful is about my niece and the troubles she's experienced throughout her days in school from grades 1-8. Fittingly, today is her first day of high school and I hope it's a new beginning for her. This post struck a cord with many and got me the most hits out of any post I had ever written. It made me cry when I wrote it and makes me cry every time I read it.
Most Controversial Post: This was also an easy one to pick. It was chosen for a very good reason since it could very easily offend a lot of people. So fair warning if you do click the link for Turning a Corner. It's about words, certain words that we give power to offend and overcoming that. It will probably still offend but I guess it wouldn't be considered controversial if it didn't offend at least someone. At certain times I've thought about removing it, then I read it again and the truth is, I really like it. So it stays. A friend of mine told me once that it's my blog and I should say whatever I want. And she's right. And well, I sure as hell have said whatever I want!
Most Helpful Post: Now we're getting into a spot where I'm not really sure what post of mine could be considered helpful. But then it hit me like a ton of bricks, Screw Guilt should be considered helpful. It helped me look past the circumstances going on in my life and towards something else. It helped me to realize that I can't always be everything to everyone and that sometimes you just have to do the things that make you happy. In the big scheme when I'm old and in adult diapers, mind wandering aimlessly from butterflies to pudding cups, the thought, "dammit, I should have paid more than the minimum monthly requirement on that bill back in 2011" probably won't cross my mind. So fucking screw guilt! Live.
A Post Whose Success Surprises Me: I think the part that surprises me most is how many women, like myself, don't know their bra size. And hell, after a trilogy of posts on the subject, starting with Embracing the Third D, I still don't know if mine is accurate! But I persevered through it and lived to tell Embracing the Third D Part II and Embracing the Third D Epilogue. I guess that's technically three posts, which will make this my 9 links, but once a rebel always a rebel.
A Post I Feel Didn't Get the Attention it Deserves: All of them! Eh, OK. Not really. But Realizing My Worth is one that I guess for me embodies a lot of emotion for me and might have actually been the first time I really opened up about myself and my life on the blog. It was written only a week or so after I started the blog but it showed me what I can achieve with it, how I can express myself and how this blog could really be the outlet that I've been looking for, for so long.
The Post I'm Most Proud Of: This was an exercise in #PBAU, the bloggers group I am privileged to be a part of just a few weeks ago. Seven and Seven was a very difficult blog to write but it is one that I am the most proud of. Proud of it in many ways. The fact that I was able to write it at all. This was the first time I ever wrote it down. I'm proud that I was able to share it. And I'm very proud that I never let it rule me, confine me, or define me.
Damn, that was tough, but interesting and kind of fun too. Thanks again for nominating me Janine. I feel truly honored. And now it's my turn to bestow the honor on a few other unsuspecting fools =)
I chose Aaron at Aaron Outward
Eric at I've Become My Parents
And Joy at Catharsis
Good luck!
Monday, August 1, 2011
Answer the Phone Neil
23 years had gone by. 23 years since I had seen TM. It's hard to believe really. How could I be old enough to have known someone long enough to have not seen them in 23 years? Getting old fucking blows. Anyway, TM was a really good friend who I'd had a falling out with. It doesn't matter why. We were young and stupid and it's in the past. But all those years had gone by and I never forgot him. I still told TM and (his friend) JJ stories. I never stopped laughing at the antics of the crazy punk rock kids that we were. I never really stopped missing him.
We met at a church carnival. Seriously. It was probably the summer of 1985. Everyone went to that carnival for whatever reason. Thinking about it now, I can't really fathom why although I do remember winning an Adam Ant baseball hat and then walking around and filling said hat up with all the disgustingly fried deliciousness that is carnival food. It was there that my BFF and I met TM and JJ. It was the beginning of a wild ride and I'm not talking about the Tilt-o-Whirl. I remember thinking then that they were so much younger than BFF and I. But the reality is, they weren't. They were in fact only 2 years younger than us. We went to the same high school but we didn't know each other from there. In 1985, BFF and I were out for a year and TM and JJ were just about to enter their senior year. We all hit it off immediately and started hanging out together a lot. We went to concerts, movies... many of which we got kicked out of because were such damn nuisances and always causing trouble. We had TV parties and watched rented movies like Repo Man and Rude Boy and Suburbia and watched The Young Ones over and over and over. And damn did we have fun. SO much fun.
JJ was a big goofy oaf who annoyed the shit out of all of us, all the time. Which is not to say he wasn't our friend, he was just an annoying friend. It was different with TM. Like me and BFF, he had a rather strained relationship with his parents, his father in particular and spent most of his time living with this grandparents. It was a bond the three of us had, but I'm not really sure how aware we were of that back then. JJ was more concerned with himself than he was with cultivating a bond of friendship. But with TM I felt all at the same time like a mother, a friend, a big sister, a confidant. We probably rarely spoke of seriously issues, family related or otherwise, but with some people you just have a bond. And I like to think I was there for him when he needed it most and I know whether he knew it or not, he was there for me. So when we parted ways, it hurt. A lot.
In all those years, even though neither of us left the area, we never ran into each other. Not once. I still can't grasp that. We were in the same scene, hung out at the same places and not once did we run into each other. So weird. It took this crazy thing called Facebook to get us back in touch after all those years. I had been trying to find him off and on before we found each other on FB, but it always ended up in a dead end. I worried that he may not want to be back in touch with me even if I did find him. You really just never know. So much time had passed. Would there still be animosity? Would he even remember me? FB to the rescue. Friend requests were sent and accepted and we fell right back into that easy friendship we always had. It was amazing. Our falling out came up briefly and was forgotten. It didn't matter anymore. We have both been through times, good and bad. We've grown and matured (somewhat, kind of).
And then it happened. We made plans to see each other. I was nervous and self conscious, of course, about all the weight I had put on since he had last seen me. I'm a girl, what can I say! We worry about that shit. But most of all I was excited. So excited to see TM after all this time. He arrived at my house and he looked as adorable as he did 23 years ago. And all that time vanished. It was gone. We talked for hours, caught up on each others lives and what we had been doing all those years. And memories... oh yes the memories came flooding back of the crazy times and the crazy things we did. Lots of crazy things. From driving down a winding dark parkway without my headlights on to see if I could do it without crashing (I could), to getting kicked out of movies, concerts, malls, restaurants, you name it! We probably got kicked out of every kind of venue possible. Sometimes there was a valid reason, other times there wasn't. Back in those days, if you looked a little bit different (and we looked a lot bit different) life wasn't too easy for you. We didn't care though. We were who we were and liked it that way. And we're still who we are. That was the amazing thing. We were different but the same.
People come and go in our lives, for good reasons and sometimes not so good reasons. It's just the way things are. There are people you want to remain in your life and you do everything to keep them there. And there are people you lose along the way. Some you forgot, some you want to forget and some you can't forget. TM was one of those I could never forget. One that I thought about from time to time, wondered about, wished things could have been different and hoped to see again. I was about to say that we wasted too much time. But we didn't. It wasn't time wasted. It was just time that went on and now, we're here. Again. I think this is the re-beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)