Fierce.
May 14, 2010
Google is a winding path of sorts.
You start off at one subject and end up someplace completely unexpected.
Most of these journeys are fruitless, some teach you a little something.
I following a meandering Lish path not too long ago and ran across this gorgeous couple, Karen and Todd Andrews from Minneapolis.
The path leading me there is not important at the moment, but when I arrived there I ‘met’ 2 gorgeous people on CaringBridge – folks about my age (though a million times better looking), successful young people with a strong relationship with each other, supportive family and friends, and a really horseshit road to travel.
Todd’s got cancer.
And not just cancer, he’s got Cancer. With a capital C. But he’s also got a supportive wife, a supportive job, a good outlook and this willpower that keeps him going when the Cancer keeps trying to kick his ass.
Had this bastard disease not jumped him, he’d have beautiful kids and a long life ahead of him.
But the first has been rendered impossible biologically with the chemo treatments. The second is up in the air.
And his beautiful wife – she’s the one that gets to me the most. She’s sunny and sparkly and so fierce. I think she would literally kick Cancer’s ass if she could just get her hands on it. Just by sheer will. You can tell she’s one step away from screaming it out of him… dear heavens, I wish that would work, too.
Together they have taught me, without even realizing it – because they don’t know who the hell I am, a little bit about marriage and the unexpected and how it changes you – but not what your marriage is.
It’s a bigger word than I thought originally.
And they get up in the morning (or afternoon) when I’m not sure I could. And they go to the park and to baseball games and they keep LIVING because this damned cancer isn’t going to take that away from them if they can help it…
They’re just simply beautiful.
And I PRAY, so hard, that there is a treatment that can help Todd.
Life is so precious.
Learning can come from a very short amount of living as well.
February 26, 2010
I wrote a bit ago about Layla Grace and how she has touched my heart.
The amazing thing to me is not that she could, really, but that so many people feel the same way.
Following tweets regarding her lead you through big names like Kevin Smith, Ryan Seacrest, Jenny McCarthy and Lance Armstrong.
Amazing.
Amazing the power of this electronic world, that between blogs and tweets and facebook news of Layla has spread around the world.
Being a parent means that you want the absolute best for your children. You want to leave a legacy for them to remember. You want them to remain in good health. You want every happiness for them.
In this case, it’s Layla that’s leaving a legacy. Layla that will look down and wish her parents and sisters every happiness.
Her mom has said on her blog many times that Layla has accomplished so much in her short life - that obviously God had a plan for her.
And she’s right.
Because there are other people out there like me, people that find themselves waking up in the middle of the night to check twitter for updates. People with prayers on their lips and in their hearts. Even non-believers with fingers crossed and hopes and well wishes.
Before I never knew anything about childhood cancer. Now I know that there are strange names and strange cancers that I’ve never heard of whose victims make up such a small part of the cancer community.
But small isn’t less important. In any way.
These are cancers with small cure rates and long memories.
Small amounts of press and large amounts of suffered.
How many of you have walked a 5k in honor of Neuroblastoma recently? Exactly.
In the past few months I’ve read blogs and news articles and science bits and learned more than I ever wanted to know about the things that can twist and warp inside our bodies.
I’ve learned to value myself and my health more – a blessing I’ve been given that I take for granted.
And I’ve been growing this knot inside of me that says that my life needs to mean more.
You see?
Layla’s even leaving a legacy to me. A total stranger. A friend of a friend.
My life has changed for the better simply because she has existed.
I love her for that.
And wish like hell there was something I could do to make this easier on her family. But especially on her.
God bless her sweet little heart.
A bullet point kind of Monday.
February 1, 2010
- From Marisa on www.notquitebettycrocker.com: “My mom once told me that I’d know I was a grown up when I didn’t see anything but gray. I thought she meant hair, but no, she meant life.”
- On Carolyn Hax’s column in response to a father that feels the need (and right) to comment on his daughter’s weight gainto try to “help”: “Does this college-educated 22-year-old need you to tell her that most fast food has a lot of calories and bad fat? That without exercise, her body probably won’t burn all that energy? Does she need you to tell her that unburned food will be stored in her body as fat? Does she — or anyone, for that matter, with even semi-fitted clothing and a mirror — need you to tell her she’s getting fatter?
At face value, you’re calling her fat. If she digs, she’ll see you’re calling her stupid.” - “At fourteen you don’t need sickness or death for tragedy.”
– Jessamyn West
The same for 13, I’m learning. - From the ShopGhoulieGirls Etsy shop:
I don't know either.
When you don’t have much to say.
January 14, 2010
A less than endearing comment on my character:
I have had the thought, over the past day or so, that I am VERY glad not to be honeymooning in Haiti at this time. Not that it was ever a possibility, but what a strange thankfulness to have in the midst of so many others’ suffering.
I will say, my mind cannot even comprehend what the photos emerging from Haiti are showing. I keep looking around Memphis trying to imagine the various buildings around me in pieces and cannot.
Or trying to imagine the shock of the building collapsing around me or the weight of concrete on me and cannot.
That sounds morbid, but for those of you that know me, you know that my first reaction is almost invariably to put myself in the shoes of others and my inability to do so now tells you just how my mind runs from the idea and exactly how far out of my privileged realm of reality this situation falls.
I’ve been reading Anderson Cooper – whom I love dearly, can I say? I find his words always seem to echo a levity that people ought to feel and so often don’t, and so I feel that I get a more realistic picture from his words – and at the same time a form of protection from ever having to see those things.
And it hurts.
The children, the absolute confusion.
How does he see so many of the things he sees and still function?
And.
What are these people going to do?
How does a country move past something like this?
Prayers and hopes and worries and finger-crossing heading their way.
I hope they’re enough to make a difference.
Help Wanted: Self Confidence Locator needed.
January 7, 2010
Part of the pain of being a plus-sized woman is how others view you.
You’re unhealthy for being big.
You’re lazy.
You eat too much.
Sometimes that’s true. Sometimes it’s not.
Either way – none of the plus-sized folks I know need that information pointed out to them.
Having people coat it with a healthy dose of “I’m just worried about your health” is merely icing to try to cover the concrete cake they handed you with their unspoken judgements.
You can HEAR the unsaid.
It’s worse when the unsaid is coming from your spouse.
Because then the healthy comment becomes valid.
Then the saying something becomes valid because like it or not, your looks and behavior will affect their lives as well.
If you develop diabetes, they’re going to adjust their life and food habits with you.
If you become unable to take care of your children, they’ll pick up the slack.
Us fatties GET that.
We really do.
But when you add a loss of sexual interest on top of that, it’s a rejection that becomes overwhelming to bear.
Simply put, there is not a lot you can do to take that back – that feeling and loss of self worth in the relationship in which we’re supposed to feel the most accepted and comfortable.
Sure, I get that you start dating Barbie and end up with Roseanne that’s going to change a few things.
But what if you marry Roseanne in the first place – and then decide she’s too icky to touch?
Where’s the fairness in that?
There was an article today on plus-sized models.
Gorgeous, sexy plus-sized models that I just dropped my jaw at.
Lemme Link.
HERE.
You see?
They’re beautiful.
They’re sexy.
They’re not perfect… and sure, parts of them are airbrushed – their dimples don’t show and I get that mine do.
But, they’re amazing looking.
So much sexier to me than any of the sticks that get pictured today and I wish – how I wish – that we could combine an acceptance of looks like that and health at the same time.
That it’s okay to be healthy AND be curvy – that plus-sized doesn’t mean gross.
What if those had been the examples in the magazines when I was growing up?
Would men look at me differently now? Would my ugly years have been my skinny years? Would my husband chase me around the furniture again? Would men turn to watch me on the streets?
And more than that…
Would my daughter realize she doesn’t have to stuff herself into clothes that are too small just to give a smaller numerical answer when people ask her what size she wears?
Would I be able to somehow help empower her sense of self?
Makes me wonder.
How would my life be different right now if that type of women were the definition of beauty rather than the ‘fatties’ that disgust those around us?
My advice to Amanda.
December 29, 2009
As stated by Greg Howard at www.greghoward.net:
“Truth in Advertising
I’ve seen a lot of ads and articles lately for tips on getting in shape prior to one’s wedding day. And I guess I just think that’s a really awful idea. When you stand up there and make your vows, you’re vowing to accept and love the other person as they are. So the last thing you want to do is lose weight or get plastic surgery or something. Rather, you want to look the way that you’re likely be during the marriage itself, because that’s only fair.
If I were to get married, I would get all method actor about it. I’d gain fifty pounds, lose my job, and drag my James Bond DVD collection around with me in a backpack. I’d greet my fiancee at the altar: ‘Hey babe, this is gonna be fun! And after we’re done with this vow thing, do you think you can loan me a hundred bucks? I need to finish paying the caterer.’”
Link, to CMA.
Re: Constructive Criticism.
November 17, 2009
Bits and pieces of thought for the day from today’s discussion on Carolyn Hax:
“If you take someone else on as a “project” you are essentially rejecting part of who they actually are, and that will generate resentment, too. We need to learn how to live with the person we fell in love with, and we sandpaper each other’s rough edges in the process, but that isn’t criticism. That is adjustment. You shouldn’t mistake the two. You don’t love who a person *might* be, you love who a person *is*. Criticism is not an expression of love, it is an expression of dissatisfaction, and thus it’s a serious problem requiring some serious communication.”
“My personal take is that constant “constructive criticism” can be soul-killing. Treating every person as “work in progress,” in constant need of improvement can be demeaning to that person…At some point, you started to feel that it wasn’t worth trying because no matter how hard you tried, it wasn’t going to be good enough anyway, so why bother?”
“I dated someone who offered a lot of “advice,” always well-meaning of course. Problem was, it was soul killing to hear, day after day, how I just didn’t quite measure up. I told him that it was hurtful and he needed to stop. He “explained” that he couldn’t help it or that he didn’t mean to be hurtful. And then he kept right on doing it, even after I said to him that hurtful intentions or not, he WAS hurting me. So I left him, and never looked back.
To people who do this: If someone makes you that unhappy that you have to improve them, don’t waste your time or theirs. Just end it. And if you truly don’t mean anything mean by it, then shut up. Seriously. How would you like to be picked at all the time? It’s horrible. Stop, or you’ll end up alone.”
“It’s not “help” if he’s taking charge and imposing the improvements on her. It’s “help” if she’s wanting to improve in some area and she appreciates his assistance. “Help” is when you assist someone in a task that they are doing. It’s not “help” if you take charge.”
“I think the reason it is so fraught is that you want your marriage to be a safe place, a kind of sanctuary from the slings and arrows of the outside world, and if your spouse is critical of you, it really undermines that. Before I criticize my husband for anything, I try to ask myself: Is it really important? Does it really matter? Is it just something I disagree with, or is it something that could actually cause harm?”
HMMMmmmm.
If this doesn’t spark a mental reflection of how you communicate with your spouse over disagreements, I don’t know what will.
It certainly did with me.
How I jumpstarted communication with my conscience.
November 12, 2009
I’m going to put the wedding recaps on hold for a day or two.
For several reasons.
This week has been shaping up to be a hard one and it’s hard to give the recaps the joy and love that I felt during those days.
And still feel – when I have my prescriptions.
I let them lapse – an idiotic thing to do, and with the two insurances being switched around, I’m in med hiatus until that has been completed and I get confirmation of the change.
So, needless to say, I’m emotional in a way that I haven’t been for a while.
Being off the medicine doesn’t make anything any clearer. It doesn’t make me less thankful. It just makes it harder for me to compartmentalize things and so I thought we might talk about a few things that have come up this week.
I’ve been packing at the apartment – planning to move back in with mom and dad and save up some money for a down payment on a house. Nick is saving on his side of the country and we should have a hefty little sum of money put back after a year or so.
And while that’s awesome and logically the best decision, with giving up my name and giving up my insurance, giving up the apartment is crossing a line of independence I didn’t realize I wasn’t yet comfortable with doing.
When I’m on my medicine I remember that I’m doing this because it’s the best thing for my family. It’s a choice I can make – I don’t NEED to make it. I can afford to live on my own. I’m good with money now and balancing life and bills is a lot easier than it used to be for me.
So this is a choice, a temporary decision with an end date in sight and I need to embrace the chance to have a little more money in the bank.
Our savings were cut by the wedding and this is a good chance to fix that.
Off the meds it seems as though my independence is being cut off at the knees.
And it’s a combination of things.
So I’ve been rather melancholy – which is slightly ridiculous.
Driving to work this morning I heard a song by Carrie Underwood – one of my shameful girl crushes – and it brought to a head so many of the things I’ve been going back and forth on.
The song is “Wasted” and it’s one of those first album songs that never would have been released as a single and that most people probably forward through during a listen. As a snapshot, I’ll tell you that it’s about getting out of a bad situation so that you don’t one day look back and realize you wasted all those years in between.
And it hit home.
I worry constantly about what to do with Abbey, feeling like my moving to MSP with her would be the best thing, but if I just had a little more time here…
And I’m missing the point. Minneapolis might not happen with both of us, I realize this. But it represents opportunity for both of us that can’t simply be ignored.
I only have one life. I can’t wait for the right time to do everything I want to do – because there isn’t a right time for change or leaping for opportunity.
A friend of mine is having a hard time in her marriage at the moment. She gets constant advice on whether to stay or go and I try to avoid doing either. Not that I don’t have an opinion some days – I’m human. But I’m also well aware that I cannot fathom the pain and confusion that goes along with other people’s marriages and that basically… unless asked… I need to keep my big mouth shut.
That said. I thought of her during the song too. I don’t want her to feel like she wasted her life either – I want her to be happy and I wish life would shine a big “DUH!” sign whenver you finally come across the thing that will make you happy. Hindsight really isn’t all that helpful.
And so. If you’re out there, lady, whatever you do, think about where you want your life to end up and walk that path.
If it’s with him, if it’s not – I want you to be happy. And I want you to spend these years of your life working towards that. Okay?
Which brings me to another point. The biggest point.
Gay marriage.
I watched Ellen and Portia on Oprah recaps. And am struck again by just how much I love Ellen as a role model. And just what beautiful and eloquent these two women are.
Having just gotten married myself, and realizing what a difference it has made in ways I couldn’t have fathomed before, I hurt even more for the people that are unable to take this step forward in their relationships.
It’s hard to remember, when you take a right like this for granted, the little nuances that mark the change from committed relationship to marriage. Calling her wife, him husband. People in hetero relationships use those terms automatically, but many gay people cannot.
“‘The thing about being a gay couple is that in the past you referred to your wife and there was quotation marks around it. There was always that chance that people would kind of snicker about it,’ Portia says. ‘Now it’s fact. It’s law. She’s my wife. I get to say that she’s my wife, and that’s just the way it is.’”
I use the term husband these days and stand strong when I do so. There is no argument from those around me. He is what he is. I have pictures, rings and a certificate to prove it.
The casual dismissal that Portia speaks about would rock me to the core. Because I can’t imagine what ever gave people the notion that we have the right to take that solidarity away from other human beings.
“Ellen says that being married does feel different than dating. ‘It feels like you’re home. There’s an anchor. There’s a safety,’ she says. ‘We are all equal citizens, and we should have the same right that anybody else on this earth has.’”
She’s right. I don’t vote based upon my religious convictions – I LIVE according to my convictions. There’s a difference. And I’m not against gay marriage on either front.
And this fits the theme because I don’t want to look into another human’s eyes and tell them that because of my beliefs that BY LAW they do not have to believe in, I have left them longing for the same solidarity that I carry around with me in my heart and head every single day now.
Because marriage IS different.
It feels different.
There’s a knowledge that this won’t be easy, but that you’re in it for the long haul. You’re not keeping one foot out the door, you’re not keeping your life separate. When you come home cranky, that directly impacts the other and yet, they’re there for the long run.
So. I hope when the time comes that you’ll all vote FOR people. Not against them. Choosing to allow someone to take advantage of their RIGHTS is not the same as condoning something you don’t believe in. It’s just letting them take advantage of something God granted us long ago. Free will.
One of the battles…
October 20, 2009
I think this article pretty much sums up the difficulty that I see before Nick and me in our marriage: “It took me a long time to accept that Ellen’s way is legitimate…”
Legitimate.
Not that I think it’s the best way, but that it is a legitimate and capable way of doing something that I would otherwise have handled differently but that he has chosen to handle in this instance.
And vice versa.
That’s a battle for me, being so in charge of many decisions in my life as I am, and accepting that he disagrees with me on some.
How can he disagree? It works!!!
But he can and does and he’s right.
Not that I’m wrong, but right in the manner that his way of doing things is a perfectly legitimate way of handling things.
What a neat concept, summed up in a sentence.
I hope I retain the idea – my stubbornness is sure to try and erase it from my memory.
What living in Memphis means.
September 23, 2009
I keep telling you folks that living here means a whole ‘nother kind of folk to get used to.
But you keep thinking I’m exaggerating.
Well. I have proof! It was documented on the news! Actual proof!
An excerpt from a wmctv.com news story:
“His Holiness the Dalai Lama arrived in Memphis Tuesday to receive the National Civil Rights Museum’s Freedom Award.
It is his first visit to Memphis and will be remembered for many reasons including the way he was greeted by the city’s mayor – complete with fist bumps.
It seemed like an ordinary walk in the park, but this walk was taken by an extraordinary man, requiring extra security from the air, water, and on the ground.
Both Shelby County Mayor Wharton and Memphis Mayor Pro Tem Lowery were on hand to greet His Holiness. Mayor Lowery told the Dalai Lama, ‘Here we also have a tradition,’ as he showed His Holiness how to fist bump. ‘You say you’ve got a sense of humor,’ Lowery said, ‘I’ve always wanted to say Hello Dalai.’”
Yes.
Fist bumps and Hello Dalai.
