Friday's Child Redux

Last week’s post elicited some interesting responses. Apparently I didn’t express myself very well, if you got from that post that I was advocating being “good” or that I believe that I am leading a “good” life. Nothing could be further from what I was trying to say, and I apologize if you felt I was holding myself up as an example of anything other than a person like everyone else on this planet: just trying to do my best, and missing the mark on a regular basis.

How would we even define “good?” Angelic? Saintly? What?

Is anyone really like that? We’re human. Of this earth. I know a lot of good people, but I don’t know any saints or angels. When I use the word good to describe something or someone, I mean valuable, or worthwhile. Not that everything about that person or that thing is perfect, or even close to it.

Especially humans. We are complex beings. We learn by our failures and our mistakes, not from the things we get right. I’ve made 100s of mistakes in my life, and I’ve failed at most things society feels says are important. However, some of those errors have been “good” in that they taught me something and helped me become more skillful at life.

Ditto failure. One of the best things that ever happened to me was losing a business I put heart and soul into for 5 years. Did it seem like that at the time? Heavens, NO. I was a mess for a long time. I was forced to file for bankruptcy. It was awful.

Looking back, though, I see it as a good thing, all the way around. It forced me to get a “real” job again, and that job changed my life in so many ways for the better. It also made me far less gullible, and more protective of myself, and led me to believe finally, that I have value worth protecting.

The same is true of this time with my mother. It sucks, frankly, in more ways than I can count. It’s a good thing, however, in that it has ripped me out of my comfort zone and forced me to grow up finally, and take responsibility for myself and someone else. Most people have that experience when they are in their 20s and 30s, raising children. I was almost 50 when I moved in with mom. Pretty late to start growing up, but that’s what has happened in the 14 years I’ve been in this situation, and in the bargain my relationship with my mother, rocky throughout my whole life to that point, has been repaired.

Bonus.

Life is a process. All lives are worthwhile, even the smallest, seemingly non-impactful in the big scheme of things. We’re all part of the story of the world, no matter what we contribute to it.

That’s what I was trying to say, and 100% what I believe about every single person on this planet, now and all who came before us and those who follow us.

Just by being alive, we each contribute to and further the story, and have an effect on the people around us. The world is big, but we are not. Still, we have an impact, making every single one of us valuable and worthwhile.

Good.

We all matter, and we’re all “good.” None more than anyone else.

We all belong to the human family and help write the story of the world while we’re here. No exceptions.

And, that’s all good. 😇

I recently heard someone online say something about each of us contributing to the story of the world, and though that’s not a new concept or expression of it, it has stuck with me for several days. I heard it in a way I hadn’t before.

My life is now, and has always been, small. Low impact in the big scheme of things. I would venture that’s true of most people, really, though most people have children, and if nothing else, that will ensure their legacy over time. Life happens and nothing is guaranteed, so not a given that their genes will carry on, but usually.

Some people have lived big lives and may have contributed more, but small lives – most of us, and most of the folks throughout history – are part of the story, too, no matter how small the role they played. Even people like me, who have contributed very little – in fact, nothing, probably – that will live beyond us.

Each of us is unique, as are our lives, and the ways in which we choose to live them. I’ve made choices others have not, and vice versa. I’ve experienced things others have not, and vice versa. Our differences are to be celebrated, as is our sameness, our humanity.

The thing I like about thinking of contributing to the story of the world is that it recognizes that the story would not be complete without each and every contribution to it. Every single life matters, just as every word, every letter, matters in the whole of a story. Throughout all of human history, this has been true.

Everyone matters and everyone makes a contribution, for better or worse.

We matter to the people we know. Our families, our friends, co-workers and casual acquaintances, even. We may influence them in a way that causes them to do or not do something that affects someone or something else, thereby becoming part of their story.

We matter to the pets we have, the piece of the planet that we have cared for, and the people the work we do makes a difference for. We are good stewards and neighbors, or we aren’t. Either way, we matter.

In most cases, we have no idea how we influence other people, through our actions, or lack of action, our example. Family members have a profound effect on children, as do teachers, and even people who write children’s books.

I have learned something from every single person I have ever known.

Even sitting in my house, all by myself, sending these missives out into the world, I may have an impact on someone’s way of thinking, for better or worse. Even for just the short time it takes to read this, I’m part of the reader’s story.

Part of the world’s story.

Everyone matters. Everything matters, in my way of thinking. Even the smallest organisms on this planet are as important as I am, with just as much potential to change the story for one person or for many. If you doubt that, think about COVID-19. That little germ changed the whole world, and added to the story of every single person alive in 2020.

The fruit flies, tiny as they are, were part of my story this summer. Clare, Grace, Jonah, Jordan, Toby, Molly and Meg, and all of the other animals I have known, have contributed as much or more to my life than many of the people I have known. I changed Clare’s story when I picked her out of all the cats at the humane society the day I went there. My first cat, Jordan, changed my story when she picked me at the humane society and stuck around for 19 years.

The story continues everyday. It will continue beyond everyone reading this right now. While we were here, though, we contributed to that story, the story of us.

The whole wide world.

So the question, then, for me, is what is my contribution? In every moment of everyday I have the opportunity to choose my contributions to the world’s story, my own, and others’ stories, as well. Do I attempt to make the story better or not?

That’s a question I ask myself every day. How’d I do today? I focus now on being kind, on acknowledging our shared humanity when I encounter other people anywhere, and on being of use. Those are my goal contributions. I don’t always hit the mark, but I try, and I keep trying.

I’m conscious of my impact in my small world, my tiny life, in a way that helps determine my actions. I have a situation in my life with my mother and my role in her life that tests my ability to achieve those goals every single day. I’m grateful for that, because it gives me the opportunity everyday to be a better person, to write a better story.

I have a way to go to get there, but I believe it’s worth the effort.

By the way, I apply those goals to myself, too. I try to be kind and patient with myself, remember that I’m human and I have human needs, and I try to be of use to myself and my own life by taking care of my health. I intend to be here a while, so that’s part of the deal.

This human life is not easy, ever. It’s lots of things that are really great, but alongside those things, it’s hard. For everyone. The best thing about our lives, though, especially in the US and other free countries, is that at least most of the time, we have a choice in the way we behave and the actions we take.

We become part of the story, no matter what we do. I choose to add a “good” word, or at least the best one I can.

What about you?

✍️

It’s interesting to me how sometimes life seems to organize itself around themes. For instance, the theme for me this week has been integrity. I’ve encountered it in a book I’m reading, and in a YouTube video by a woman I watch weekly. It’s come up in conversations, and in the news. All of a sudden, I’m being schooled in integrity, which, I admit freely, hasn’t always been my best thing.

I am a conscientious person. I care about doing things correctly and helping where I can, and being responsible. I don’t always hit the mark, but I try really hard. The highest praise I ever received at work in 48 years came from a supervisor who said that she valued me because she always knew if she asked me to do something, it would be done.

Yep.

That’s me. I’m responsible, reliable, and capable. I was a Girl Scout, after all, and I took it seriously, I guess. I had good role models in my father and my grandmother, too, and believed that those qualities were what mattered in life and that they would carry me far. But integrity?

Harder.

Part of integrity requires that your actions match your thoughts and words. I exited a friendship this past year because that person had let me down one too many times; saying they would do something and then not doing it. Repeatedly. She’s a good person and I enjoyed our conversations, but I’d had enough.

The current hypocrisy in our government is hard to take, too. Politicians are known for that – being chameleon-like when campaigning depending on who they are speaking to, and then when elected, not doing what they say they would do. The current administration has taken that to new heights, but it’s mostly always been the nature of the game, to some degree, with a few notable exceptions.

Integrity matters.

It goes beyond politics and relationships, though. If you’re letting other people down, you are probably letting yourself down, too. If you say you really believe in something, and then do the opposite, that’s not integrity. Even if you really believe what you say, if your actions say something else, that’s hypocrisy, any way you slice it.

Actions have to match words, or there’s no real point to saying them. Just so much hot air.

Though I think of myself as being conscientious, I am well aware that I don’t always act with integrity. I advocate kindness, but I am not always kind. When I am struggling with depression, I lie easily. Mostly so I don’t commit to something I know I might not do, and so people don’t lose faith in me, but it’s still lying. I’m thankful that doesn’t happen as much as it used to, because I don’t go through those periods as frequently these days, and I’m more likely to be honest about it now, anyway.

Integrity is hard. I know I’ve let people down at times in my life. For me it was simply putting what I felt I needed at a particular time before what someone else expected from me. That’s self-care sometimes, but most often I shouldn’t have committed to do whatever it was, or allowed them to have that expectation, in the first place. That’s where integrity breaks down.

I lost my business because someone used my services for a long time without paying me, even though he made many promises along the way. He was a good salesman and I kept believing him. Actually, he did pay me everything he owed me years later, but by then the damage was done.

He believed he was a good person and a good businessman. I did the work he asked me to do, on time, and in full, and he expected to be able to pay me for that work when he asked me to do it, presumably, but then was unable to. Instead of being honest and telling me what happened and how he planned to fix it so that I could make a decision about whether I would continue to work for him, he lied. That was where his integrity and my trust in and respect for him ended.

Most people are not habitual liars or con artists. They’re just folks who have lost their sense of integrity, because they’re in a tight spot and can’t figure out the right way to get out of it, or even how to be honest about it. I’ve been there.

Sometimes it’s because they can’t see themselves as they really are, and can’t accept the reality that they are hurting someone else.

Life happens. Sometimes we just don’t or can’t live up to the promises we make to other people, or to the things we believe about ourselves, for whatever reason. When you lie about it, though, and end up letting someone down, or hurting another person, that’s where it all falls apart.

I try very hard not to let myself, or others, down now. I recognize my limitations in a way I didn’t as a younger person, and I have lower expectations and make fewer commitments to others, and to myself.

That experience with my client over 25 years ago actually convinced me to be more honest, to pay more attention to doing what I said I would do. The cool thing about humans is that we are not cast in cement. We can learn and change.

Caregiving has challenged my integrity, and I’ve gotten better at meeting the challenge as time has gone on. I show up for my mom and do what she needs me to do everyday, no matter what. There’s no one to fill in the gaps, even if I feel I need a break, and her needs do not diminish. They have increased dramatically over time, in fact. It’s not easy, but it is worthwhile and it means something to her to know she can count on me. It means something to me, too.

And then there are the times she drives me completely nuts, and I totally lose my cool.

So, there’s that. 🤦‍♀️

All we can do in any given situation is our best. I’m better than I used to be, and as long as I can say that everyday until I exit the planet, I’m good with that.

Contrary to Yoda, there is try and it matters. Do is wonderful, but not always possible; that’s just how it works out sometimes. As long as we keep trying to be our best, though, we get better, and happier, and more useful.

Striving everyday for integrity is one way to get there. ❤️

I like genealogy, and I’ve been researching family history for a long time now. I’m lucky enough to know who my birth parents are, so I’m able to research both my adoptive and birth families, and get the whole picture of who they were, and in doing so, who I am.

Plus, it’s fun!

Over the last weekend, Ancestry.com granted free access to Newspapers.com, so I spent some time searching for articles referencing my families. There was a time when I had a subscription to an online news clipping service like Newspapers.com, and I found a lot of relevant articles then, so I was excited to see what new stuff was online now. I found quite a bit this time, too, and made good use of the free period.

One of the things I particularly like about tracing family history is the perspective it gives me on my life, including how easy I’ve had it. Good reminder that for our ancestors, especially women, life was much more challenging in a lot of ways. It also gives me perspective on the flow of life in general, the way in which day-to-day events turn into a complete life, and how one life affects others.

One of the things I found over the weekend were court reports about the divorces of two of my mother’s relatives. Her grandfather, James, left her grandmother, early in her mother’s life, leaving her mother, my grandmother, and her sister, behind at a very young age. This was 1916, and there was no alimony or child support and my great-grandmother didn’t work. She started taking in sewing to pay the bills. I’m sure things seemed pretty dire.

In stepped my mother’s great-grandfather, Edward, James’ father. Ed’s wife had divorced him years earlier, so he was alone, and he moved in with his daughter-in-law and 2 granddaughters left behind by his irresponsible son (by Ed’s reckoning). The family thrived, thanks to Edward, and my grandmother grew up, got married and had my mother.

My mother’s father fell prey to a bad business deal, however, and their little family moved in with Edward and mom’s grandmother to ease financial pressure. My mother speaks about this time as one of the best of her life. She adored her grandmother, and was able to have a very close relationship with her, and her great-grandad, Ed, was her buddy for the time they were there. (He died shortly after they left). Mom was quite small, but she remembers that time very well, and it shaped who she was in a lot of ways.

So.

“Bad” things becoming good things. Things don’t always work out so neatly, but in my experience, they do pretty often. Enough not to lose hope when everything falls apart every now and again.

One decision can change everything, for better or worse.

That one moment reverberates throughout, not only the decider’s life, but also in everyone around that life, usually. Sometimes there are dire consequences, others much smaller impacts, but there are points in everyone’s life they can look back at and see the effects of key decisions, and the ripples in others’ lives that carried them in a new direction, too.

This week I also learned of a high school classmate’s death. He was not someone I knew well, but we had a small graduating class, 152 kids, so we all knew everybody on some level. Turns out he had a difficult life after high school, mostly because of addiction, which was a decision he made a long time ago. It shaped his whole life, costing him his marriage, his house, and apparently, his health. So sad. RIP Mike. Rest easy now.

My father’s decision not to quit smoking cost him his life, ultimately, but also 30 years of surgeries and treatments. My birthmother’s decision to relinquish me for adoption shaped me and my life profoundly. My birth-grandfather’s decision to move to northern Michigan for his career, brought my birthmother to this area, where she met my birthfather in school…

Certainly things happen that are outside our control, and many things that change us were not as a result of a decision we made. There are those life-changing moments, though, that we can look back to and see a direct line from there to here.

I think history is fascinating. I think family history is enlightening and is a concrete connection to human and world history. That’s why I love genealogy and why I do it. We stand on the shoulders of those here before us, and look ahead for those to come after. What decisions made now will affect us and the children to come?

This includes decisions in the voting booth, incidentally. Governments can have a profound effect on citizens’ lives, certainly.

It’s never just about me. I’m very aware of that. My life affects others as I have been affected by my parents, teachers, friends, extended family. Everyone is connected. Our decisions as humans affect the planet and the other walks of life here. It’s a web. Everything and everyone is connected. Touch one part of the web and it reverberates throughout the whole. One decision, one change, can affect many lives, and generations to come.

Families matter.

Family history matters.

Human history matters.

I am a part of it all. So are you.

What decision made today will carry us from here to there? Choose wisely, friends. Your very life, or someone else’s, may depend on it.

Sunday the toilet was almost overflowing. Tuesday night the power went out for 3 1/2 hours. Both those things sent me into a tailspin. Complete and total meltdown each time.

I plunged the toilet and it appears to be fine now. It might not be – time will tell – we’ve had a long history of drain problems with that house, but I’m hoping. There are usually other signs if it’s the drain, and a year and a half ago I spent ALOT of money to have it repaired, so I think we have a fair shot that it was just a clog.

The power thing on Tuesday night happened to the whole north side of town, so it wasn’t just about us. It lasted 3 1/2 hours, and ended before the estimated time we were originally told. It was the warmest night we’ve had in weeks, so that wasn’t an issue, and the elderly furnace and refrigerator restarted without any problems. The internet even came back online very quickly.

So it all ended happily. Most things do. I know that. Did that knowledge stop my meltdown?

Nope.

This has been a difficult summer. At turns challenging, at others, merely disappointing, but the result is that I’m worn out. My nervous system is on constant alert, as the challenging situations have been popping up rather regularly since May, and I haven’t been riding much – my usual defense against anxiety – since the weather has been less than amenable, and it’s been hard to align my mother’s schedule, my schedule, and good weather all summer.

Then there’s this other thing. In Buddhist literature, they refer to it as “the second arrow.” I don’t know when I started doing it, but it’s become increasingly a hindrance to my coping abilities, and it’s gotten worse over time.

When something challenging happens, that’s the first arrow. It’s something I have no control over, even something small, like the two things that happened this week. Just the normal slings and arrows of life that happen to all of us.

The second arrow, which I do have control over, is the story I tell myself as the anxiety and anger build.

The story is that it’s not FAIR that I should have to deal with whatever it is. After all, I’m a good person. I follow the rules. I try hard to live a good life. I’ve given up 14 years of my life to be a caregiver to my mother, for heaven’s sake, a woman who made my life miserable for most of it. What more do I have to do?

THIS SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING TO ME.

So, not only do I have to deal with whatever the problem is, I also have to deal with my brain conjuring up all the anger and resentment of 64 years on this planet.

The second arrow is the real challenge, and it’s completely voluntary and unnecessary. It’s not the thing itself, so much, it’s how I feel about having to deal with the thing. Almost immediately I draw back the arrow and let ‘er rip. Every. Single. Time. Mostly.

Not like a grown up. Not like a reasonably intelligent, capable, human being.

Like a spoiled child, and I know better.

Do I do better? No. I’m human, and life is hard sometimes.

Is it crap to think that way? Absolutely! I have it really good. I know that. Fair is a place with rides and games, not a realistic expectation for life on this planet. I know that, too.

However, I’m still launching that second arrow straight into my head when confronted with almost every challenging situation. Over and over again. It’s not helpful, and it makes everything so much worse, but I do it almost every time.

Not every time, I’m happy to say, and that makes me feel like there will come a point at which I get over myself and just get on with things always, but I’m not there yet, obviously.

My path through this life has been one step forward, two steps back, from the beginning. I get where I’m headed eventually, but I take the longest possible route to get there. I make things harder than they need to be. I have no clue why. Just the way I’m made, I guess. I’ve been carrying that quiver full of arrows for a long time, and I hope someday I can just leave it by the side of the road and walk on.

Someday soon.

I love to think about the future. I wrote a post recently about some possibilities I’m thinking about for my life after my mother is not a part of it anymore, and some of that seems really interesting, even exciting, to me. I like to think about possibility. Some of it seems scary, but that’s okay, too.

What I do mostly, though, is worry about the future, and about possibility. Anything can, and does, happen in this world. Good and bad, enlightening, enlivening, crushing or challenging. I don’t worry about the good, but I do think about the bad.

A lot.

Not surprisingly, this causes anxiety, and sometimes it completely hijacks my brain and my nervous system, and I find myself stuck in a loop of doom. What if…one of the things on the very long list of potential problems happens in my life, with my mom, or Grace, or my health, or one of our houses, or with the insane current government in this country, or the weather, or…

On and on. So many things can go wrong, and in fact, have in the last few months, that I can spin for hours in the dark, murky waters of what if, and drive myself nuts. In fact, the last 2 years have been very challenging for me in a number of ways. (Other people, too, where the weather is concerned, especially.)

The only thing that has any chance of bringing me out of that spiral into the depts, is reminding myself that I only have to do today. And today, right now, is most likely fine.

Fundamentally, today it is the ONLY day.

Yesterday is gone, and tomorrow is not promised, and unknowable. I try to just enjoy the day. Do the things that are required today, and some things that are not required, but enjoyable and comfortable.

Think about and deal with tomorrow when it comes. Good things happen just as often as bad things, usually, and there is every chance that it will all work out just fine. My mother’s Yoda perspective on everything (except her own health) these days, is it will all work out somehow. (Work out it will.) 😉

She’s right, of course. I’m starting to have that long view, also. I have a 100% success record of getting through things at this point, and there’s no reason to believe that will change. I’m smart and capable and I’ll figure out what to do when it happens. Worrying about it is not helpful.

So, I just need to convince the 7 year-old in my brain and chest, who is panicking all the time. She remembers a time in this house, with this particular woman, in which she had to be vigilant all the time, on alert for trouble every moment of every day.

She’s just trying to keep us safe, and I get that, but really, I wish she’d just relax. I’m not 7 anymore, and I really don’t need to be on constant alert. There is plenty of time to panic when something is actually happening. I don’t need to rehearse.

I talk to her, and feed her sugary treats, and try hard to convince her, but she’s just as stubborn as she was then and I don’t seem to be getting through. The anxiety shows up in my dreams even if I don’t acknowledge it during the day.

I could take medication, but been there, done that. Don’t want to do it again now, for lots of reasons. I meditate. I journal. I exercise and feed all those helpful little endorphins to my weary brain. Most of the time, I’m fine. I stop the unhelpful worrying in its tracks, with a gentle reminder that TODAY is the only day, the only thing I have to worry about right now.

And then something challenging happens, and my nervous system gets all ramped up again, and here we go. On alert for a while. Until I remember and do the things that help, and remind myself of what today is.

It’s all good. I’m lucky in so many ways, and the challenges I face are so small compared to those others deal with everyday all over the world. Mostly I laugh at how crazy I am and just get on with it. I know that I’m all right no matter what, and that it’ll all work out in the end. I have perspective now that I didn’t have when I was a little girl, and someday she’ll trust me and life, and we’ll just get on with it together.

Someday…after all, anything is possible!

🤭

In the last couple of weeks, we have lost 2 of my favorite authors and two women I admire. Dolly Parton, Gloria Steinem, Wendell Berry, and now, just this week, Annie Dillard. What will we do without all those good people to sing to us, care for us, fight for us, and tell us who we are in the scheme of things on this beautiful planet? Others will fill those gaps, no doubt at some point, if not now, and we will go on, of course. It won’t be the same, though. Nothing stays the same. Everything changes, and though it’s difficult to come to terms with sometimes, it’s a “feature,” of this life, not a design flaw, as it turns out.

Grace is filling the “Clare” gap, in her way, by essentially becoming the “downstairs cat.” She has been exploring her new domain, and has decided that the downstairs, especially the living room, where mom is most of the time, has it all over the upstairs. This is a good thing, and mom is pretty happy about this particular adjustment. We both miss Clare, but Grace is filling that hole in our hearts, whether she intends to, or not.

I have had to adjust my belief that “everything on this earth has as much right to exist as I do,” by adding, “but not necessarily in my house”. I have been overrun with fruit flies for a few weeks. They are certainly annoying little buggers and they multiply rapidly, exponentially, in fact. I have eaten a banana for breakfast most every day of my adult life, and I’ve always just thrown the peels in the garbage. Suddenly this summer, that’s a problem.

For a while, my guests were just in the trash, then they branched out. They were, quite literally everywhere, pretty quickly, and I had to take action or move out. I chose to put out an apple cider trap, which was very effective. I really had to consider it, though. I didn’t want to kill them. I just didn’t want to live with them. They were not convinced to leave voluntarily, however, and they are impossible to catch – gee, they’re quick! – so the trap was the only answer. At least they had a last taste of something sweet in this life before being dispatched to the great beyond.

So, as Annie Dillard suggests in the quote above, I NOTICED them. Then I killed them. Sorry. Yes, they have a right to “be,” but not in my house unless they’re contributing to the mortgage. The spiders, the flies, the bees, and other bugs that find their way inside are given a reprieve and either just allowed to hang out (spiders), or gently guided to the outdoors in a Dixie cup.

I’m adjusting to Autumn, and life without Clare, and the challenges and gifts of aging. Life is always a dance with change, with loss, especially. I’m not a great dancer, but I’ve gotten better over the years, with plenty of practice.

Change is not always easy, but in my experience, it is mostly good. I have certainly changed in 64 years, and I celebrate that whole-heartedly. (I look at our President and am stumped that someone could be 80 years old and still reacting to life and people in the way he did as a 9-year old child.)

When I look back at all the adjustments I’ve made in the way I see and react to life over the years, thanks in part to writers like Annie Dillard and Wendell Berry, and role models like Gloria Steinem and Dolly Parton, and so many others, I am grateful for change, and the life I’ve lived.

As it turns out, it’s all good, no matter how it seems when it’s happening. I don’t believe in fate or that there’s a plan, or a god who administers that plan, but I do believe in flow. Of being in tune with the planet and with the stream of life we’re all navigating, making adjustments for the wind and the current as we go.

🚣‍♂️

I didn’t post last week. There are no rules to this blogging thing, really, but I do try to post regularly, for my own sense of continuity and responsibility, as well as furthering the hope of having regular readers. Last week, though, was really difficult and I didn’t have the energy or words to write a post.

Clare died at 5:04 on Thursday, September 3rd. She had taken a sudden and dramatic turn for the worse at the beginning of the week, and by Wednesday night, it became really obvious that she was in pain. She wandered the house crying all night. None of us got any sleep. I called first thing Thursday morning and the vet ended her life at the end of the day.

So now it’s just mom, me, and Grace. Mom and I are missing Clare terribly, but Grace, though a little confused, is relieved, I think. Clare was very territorial about mom and the whole downstairs, and she was confrontational with Grace whenever she entered “her” realm. So, for the better part of the last 13 years or so, Grace came down only occasionally to eat, and usually at night. She spent most of her time upstairs alone in my room.

So now she’s spending time downstairs with mom and me, and that makes me happy. I’m also relieved to know that there was nothing more I could do to help Clare, and that she hadn’t suffered long. The vet said she had lymphoma, but it had probably not been around long, and he said she probably had not suffered much discomfort until she made it obvious to us Wednesday night. She had the best summer of her life, eating all the canned food (fish!) and having all the treats she wanted.

My sweet, snuggly little girl. I miss her awful. Rest well, my sweet. ❤️

I recently became aware of an emotional regulation exercise that I’ve been using lately to help keep me focused on the good, and to avoid wallowing in the depths, as I’m inclined to do, especially after a loss. I read about it in a book by Jenny Lawson, but it originated with Neil Pasricha. It’s called Rose, Rose, Thorn, Bud, and it’s works exactly as you might imagine from the name. Anytime, but especially when things are tough, he suggests naming two good things that have come into your awareness, one challenge you’re facing, and something on the horizon that you can look forward to.

So…

Rose: Grace is healthy, and much happier, plus mom and I get to spend more time with her.

Rose: I was finally able yesterday to correct a problem with my computer that had rendered it a very expensive doorstop for the better part of a week.

Thorn: Clare is gone, and I miss her. but she’s no longer in pain and she had a good, long life.

Bud: Autumn bike rides!

Not every thorn can be turned into a rose – I get that, and some take longer to get past than others, for sure. When I look for the good, though, I find it, and that helps dull the sting a bit. Changing grief to gratitude is not easy and will take time, but I believe it’s worthy effort. Clare overcame a lot in her life, and she never gave up. She loved treats and feathered toys and her people without reservation, and I loved her.

Love is always a good thing, no matter what.

CLARE

June 2011 – September 2026. Rest in Peace, Angel Girl.

Most mornings my first thought upon waking is I don’t have to go to work today. 2 1/2 years into retirement, that still feels like a gift.

Most everyone I have known in my life enjoyed a long retirement, so it was not something unknown to me. I just never thought I would experience it. I didn’t think I would live long enough to retire. From the time I was small, I thought I would die young.

My grandma was my best person, and we had neighbors across the street, Sally and Carl, who were also like grandparents to me, though they were not related. I always felt safe and loved with elders. Not so much with younger people, including my mother, and certainly not with my peers.

That feeling has held through all of my life. I’ve always valued elders, but I never thought I’d be one.

I’m infinitely pleased and grateful that I was wrong about that, though I’m not really that old. Just older than I thought I’d be. I hope to be around a LOT longer, but I know that there is no guarantee. I do what I can to maintain my health, and hope for the best. Try to focus on each day as it comes, rather than the longterm.

There have always been guardrails on my life: my family and work, primarily. Now that work is gone (I hope forever), the only remaining limitation is my family. Currently, my mother is really the only thing holding me back from doing whatever I want. Longevity runs in her family, but she won’t live forever.

That is exciting and scary at the same time. If I’m not staying in this town because of my family, will I remain here after my mother’s gone? I never intended to live here after college. I came back because my mother had a breakdown and couldn’t be alone during the day while my father worked.

After that year, I had a job lined up in another state, and was planning my move, when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. I got a job here and stayed to help. 40+ years later I’m still here. It’s been fine, and I have no regrets, but if I have the chance to move somewhere else, will I?

There are a few other questions like that:

1. Will I travel? I would like to.
2. Who will I spend time with? I like to be alone, but not all the time. How do you make friends when you don’t work, especially in a new town?
3. What else do I want to do that hasn’t been possible before?
4. What will I do if my health fails? Who do I want to be with and where?

I don’t have any other family. I have a few friends here now, and I love them, but I don’t hear from or see them often, and that’s less than ideal if I’m living alone again. My mom provides a lot of company. I lived alone for 35 years, but the last 14 have been spent with her.

So the big question is: am I going to go out and find a new life or sit in my house here alone and continue with the status quo? I know which is easier and less terrifying, and I know I scare easy. 😳 I also know that the only thing I’ve ever really longed for that I haven’t had much of a chance at, is complete freedom..

There is a part of me that wants to just get in the car and go. It’s always been there, encouraging me to let go of everything and start over. I think that part is about 7 years old. She’s always just wanted more. I disappoint her daily. 😌

She’s still there now, though, planning the future. Hoping for her chance to run the show. I feel ready to let her. I feel like I have everything to gain, including my whole and happy self, and nothing to lose, really. Nothing that really matters to me after my mom’s gone, except maybe safety, but I feel ready to let that go, too. It doesn’t really exist, no matter where you are, who you are, or what you’re doing.

I love this quote by Helen Keller: “Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.”

Helen Keller. Unable to see or hear, and felt that life was a daring adventure. Here I sit, perfectly healthy and whole, with every advantage in life, and I’m afraid to leave my comfortable, easy existence behind, in search of something better, or at least more interesting. If that isn’t a reality check, I don’t know what is.

So the big question: Will I?

Will I live as I imagine, as the 7-year old me advocates daily, or will I just hang on here? I don’t know the answer to that question now. I will, at some point in the next couple of years, and I hope it’s the right one. I think both answers are fine: life finds you wherever you are and whatever you think you’re doing.

Ultimately, of course, this is not about right or wrong. it’s about having a choice, and making it, Not just going with the flow. And…it’s about fear. Fear of the unknown, and also fear of regret. It’s also about living for myself and living for others; being of use in the world, or being free not to be. Both are desires of my heart.

I don’t regret the past, and I look forward to the future. No matter what it brings, or what choices I may face. I’m just excited to be here, To have a choice. It’s pretty exciting to think about, for sure.

The reality right now, though, is that I have to stop writing because I have to make lunch for my mom. Life is still right here, right now, and still requires me to be fully present to what is.

So I will, to the best of my ability, I will do what needs to be done. That’s an easy decision to make.

For now.

RIP Dolly Parton. You were a gift to this world. A shining star illuminating our path through darkness. We will miss you. ❤️

I have lived a small life, by some standards. Sometimes I think I could have lived differently—had more “success” in the world, as the world defines it – and I wonder what would have happened if I’d made even one different choice at some point. Would I have ended up here, now, in this house, in this town, in this life?

When I look back, though, I know that I’m right where I was always going; right where the path was taking me. I made the choices I made because at the time, they were the only choices I could make. If I could have done it all differently, I would have.

I made the choices that were right for me, at the time. At every turn, if I had made another choice, it would have been someone else’s life, not mine. I would have been living a lie. I chose what was right for me, what made sense to me, what my heart told me was the right way to go.

Now, I look at where I am and what I’m doing, and I know it’s all as it should be. I chose well. Maybe not by someone else’s standards or way of thinking, but I’m not living someone else’s life. Lots of things could have been different, but they weren’t, because I am me, and this is my life, my path, my choices.

My life would not be right for someone else, and that’s okay. They have their own thing. I don’t judge their choices, and I don’t care what they may think about mine. That’s what FREEDOM is all about.

Curiously, people online are VERY judgmental lately about how people should live, and our politics in this country has been dominated by a party for the past couple of years that has lots of ideas about how people should think and behave.

It makes me sad. It’s not the America I believe in. My philosophy of life can be summed up very succinctly: live and let live. I’m on my path, you’re on yours. Wave at me, wish me well as you pass, and then shut up and move on. I’ll do the same. I trust that you know where you’re going, and that you’re on the correct path for you, and I expect you to trust me in the same way.

That’s freedom.

We’ve lost that in this country—some of us—for a while. We’ll get it back, though. America is the land of the free and the brave. You can’t keep us—the majority—down for long. We don’t abide kings, or being lied to, or taken advantage of. Democracy works because if you make a mistake, you can correct it. We made this particular mistake twice, unfortunately, but we can still make amends.

Some lessons are harder to learn than others, but we’ll get there. I believe that. People are suffering and that’s not okay. We have to fix it–get back to thinking that we’re all equal, deserving of respect, and that we’re all due the same opportunities to succeed in our lives, in whatever way we define success.

That’s what America stands for. This is the land of opportunity. Free to be, you and me. Change is in the air, and I’m all for it.

Let’s go!

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