Tag: acceptance

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First, My Hair. Then The Real Stuff.

Augh! My hair is too short!

That’s my great frustration of the moment. Actually, I have many more frustrations, but that’s the one I’m focusing on. My hair is thick and has a lot of natural wave, which sounds good until I get into some humid weather, which I’m swathed in right now. 

Haircut

It’s not a huge problem. My hair will grow. But the other problems in my life overwhelm me at times, and I don’t have simple answers for them. Planning for the future has become paramount in my mind, and I need to take some action to help things go more smoothly when the time comes, for example, to move. But it isn’t easy.

So I focus on my hair. If I could get it under control, I’d feel a lot more control over other things in my life as well. But every step I take backfires on me.

Some problems I have been able to solve. W couldn’t get my mom’s free phone set up, but we did get her (not free) cable tv in place. This done from hundreds of miles away and with the help of a very gracious staff at the assisted living facility my mom is living in. I feel a sense of accomplishment there.

The phone situation remains unresolved. She has a phone she’s paying for, but because she’s on Medicaid, she’s eligible for a free phone through a government program. We got her signed up and the phone was delivered, but she couldn’t figure out how to set it up. There’s a time limit and we actually got an extension on that, but it still didn’t work out.

Caring for an aging  parent long distance is a challenge. I’ve written about this before, but it’s constantly a part of my life, so I’m writing about it again.

My mom has frustrations with her hair as well, so we swap stories. Her woes are different than mine–I inherited my hair from my dad. Besides the hair, the other difference between my mom and me is she’s being taken care of, while I’m responsible for what goes on in my life.

So I’m back to fixing my hair–or trying to fix it. Then I’ll try tackling the real problems again.

Image Credits: Bad Hair © nicoletaionescu–stock.adobe.com; telephone © martialred–stock.adobe.com

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What to Say, What Not to Say

As some of you know, I’ve been trying to write a novel. Originally when I joined my writer’s group, I had planned to write a memoir, and had gotten pretty far in outlining my efforts. I was going to focus on some of the mental health issues I’ve faced and their consequences, among other things.

Problem is, my mental health issues are tame compared to what many people face. I’ve struggled with depression and was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder not otherwise specified. In my case that meant there were identifiable episodes of bipolar depression, but it didn’t appear to be an ongoing problem. I do take medication, but for many years now there’s been no sign of anything resembling bipolar disorder.

A lot of my problems come from family issues when I was growing up. I struggled with these all through my 20s and 30s, but now I’ve gotten past them (for the most part) and have healed several of the relationships that brought me down previously.

AdobeStock_563786899I’ve watched young women I know fairly well deal with-or not deal with–many of the same sort of issues I faced at their age, and at least one of them is notorious for saying, “you have no idea what I’m going through.” Those of us who are older and wiser just shake our heads and say to each other, “yeah, right. Like we didn’t go through the same thing.”

If I had a better recall of the specifics of what I went through, it probably would make for some good essays, but I’ve moved past that era of my life and I simply don’t remember the day-to-day struggles. Either that, or I don’t want to.

And here’s the other thing about writing a memoir: in order for it to be any good, I have to be painfully honest, and I have no desire to do that. There’s no healing value in it for me anymore, and other people in my life don’t need to see that part of my life. I’m a fairly private person and I’d like to keep it that way.

Beautiful daisy isolated on white background

Many people I know, in fact, think I had an idyllic childhood. I don’t necessarily want to let them keep believing that, but I don’t really want to go into any detail about why that isn’t true. It’s not that I want to keep secrets, mind you. There’s a difference between secrets and private matters.

Which leads me back to where I began with this post. I’ve been trying to write a novel. I think I’ll stick with that.

Image Credits: Daisy © Leonid Ikan–stock.adobe.com; Both line images © OneLineStock–stock.adobe.com;

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The Cream Always Rises

“The cream always rises,” a favorite college professor of mine used to tell his classes, and like fools, we thought he meant if ever you were unemployed, or underemployed, you’d end up getting a great job. If you were top-notch, that is, and we all thought we were. Or at least hoped we were.

While there may be some truth to our naïve beliefs, having a superlative job isn’t everything. And it certainly wasn’t what our professor was referring to. He was close to retirement himself and had seen a long line of promising students fall victim to family tragedy, mental illness, physical illness and the like, compromising their ability to get the superior job they believed they were capable of tackling.

Still, they were cream, and they rose.

Closeup of yellow blooming daffodils on blurred green backgroundI have a friend, also from college, whose husband has ALS. Her honesty about the heartbreak and her integrity toward her family is a shining example of rising. Another college friend went through a series of tragedies, too much to detail here, and in her darkest moments she told me this just wasn’t what she expected out of life. Both women have persevered and are role models for me of how life will change you, one way or the other, and it’s up to you how you handle it.

Of course this isn’t a new thought and I’ve heard it, time and again. I’ve hoped that I’ve met life head on and come out ahead, even if my job is less than I expected, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose my car to an accident or whatever. But until now that’s just been hope.

I was discouraged the other day by disparaging words from yet another friend from college, someone who couched her thoughts in what I call God talk. Now, I’m a woman of faith, but not her kind of faith, which she believes is the only kind to have. She smiled while she spoke to me and basically questioned whether or not I had ever truly been a Christian.

Crying–yet also quite angry–I texted the friend who’d had the series of tragedies in her life. She amazed me. She told me I had been an example to her. Me? I was shocked. Now, I’ve been through my fair share (haven’t we all) but I never thought of myself as Cream That Rises. When I told her about that saying, she laughed and said, “I think we’re both cream.”

You just never know. I can tell you this, those who sit in judgment are not cream. 

Image Credits: Boy raising hands ©beerphotographer–stock.adobe.com; Daffodils ©Aul Zitzke–stock.adobe.com

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Listen and Cheer

We all like recognition, some more than others. Some crave recognition from certain people while shying away from it in unfamiliar situations. Others will take it wherever they can get it. Whatever our wants, there is a basic fact of human experience: we all have a need for respect and recognition.

It starts by having our existence acknowledged, when others simply listen to what one has to say. On a higher level there are accolades, acknowledging work well done. That doesn’t necessarily begin and end with our jobs, although that’s important. It could be noting the sweater someone knit or the good behavior of a friend’s child.

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Understanding another’s life challenges can help us hone in on what kind of recognition they need. Parents, of course, love to have their children acknowledged in meaningful ways (and might I add, those of us with cats and dogs will take the praise due them). It takes listening and paying attention to know how best to respect others, even those closest to us.

Today I saw a group of truck drivers at work (I work for J. B. Hunt, a transportation company) cheered on in the Million Mile March, recognizing them for driving two, three and four million miles for the company without a preventable accident. There were quite a few walking the red carpet in the home offices as the local high school band played and the office employees cheered and whooped.

Not only were these men and women proud, but their family members walking beside them beamed as well. It was quite an experience. I should add, J. B. Hunt rewards them in multiple ways for this achievement. It’s a big deal.

That’s an extreme example, but a fun one. I hope you take the time to recognize others in simple ways. Not out of guilt, of course, but love and respect for those around you. People are valuable, and it’s a good idea to let them know it.

Image Credits: Balloons and Confetti © beerfan–stock.adobe.com; Children Jumping © Bigstock

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moving slowly

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”
― Confucius

I’ve been moving slowly for a very long time. But, I’ve been moving.

The clock dawdles, or so it seems, when you’re waiting for change. If you’re watching and waiting, it may be times are hard and you’re looking for a better situation. Something that makes you happy to wake up in the morning.

At times the challenges may be so overwhelming you need time to recuperate. Recovering from an unfamiliar and frightening situation can be difficult, to say the least. We seek safety and comfort first, and change second.

That’s what happened to me a few years ago. I found myself overwhelmed by circumstances over which I truly had no control. I wasn’t sure who my friends were, and out of fear they’d all deserted me, I avoided everyone.

Eventually things began to right themselves.

A close friend reached out to me and told me the truth about what others were thinking. It was good. I found new friends, a new job, and for the first time in 15 years, I bought a new car.

I learned something through all of this. Before we can truly move forward, we need a level of security. Simply finding that solid strength within ourselves can be moving forward, despite how a lack of change in circumstances may appear to others.

There were those in my life frustrated by my slow recovery. Thankfully, others recognized how lost I was and how much healing I really needed.

If you’re struggling,

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whatever your situation, allow time to restore your energies, and forgive yourself for not bouncing back like a child’s punching toy clown. Some things aren’t meant to be rushed. The smallest step is enough.

When times are hard, our hope is in anticipation of a promising future. It’s there, waiting for us. Life works that way. Can I guarantee that for everyone? No, that’s not within my power. But it’s what I’ve seen in the lives of those closest to me, especially friends I’ve known for decades.

Every move forward, now matter how slow, is taking you where you want to go. And really, we don’t always know how far we’re going to have to go anyway. The next step may surprise us with unexpected joy.

Image Credit:(top) hourglass © Alexey Klementiev; sky © Pakhnyushchyy; lights © mehmetcanturkei; background © averroe — All, stock.adobe.com. (Bottom) © GraphicStock.com