I wanted to share my experiences with trying to achieve being High School Skinny (HSS) again.
If you were heavy in high school (or middle school) then I feel for you also because I know kids can be very mean and cruel. :( And I also know you can possibly be dramatized the rest of your life because you are consumed with trying to never go back to that very bad emotional time physically. My Mom was this way - she was affected deeply her entire life because she was chubby as a child. She was consumed about her weight, even when she was thin.
Then there are the skinny girls who the chubby girls can't figure out how in the world they can remain so skinny with all the crap they eat all dang day, every day! In High School, most females are super thin. We wear size zero jeans easily throughout the entire years, maybe growing into a size 1, or 3. Either way, still HSS.
We eat gobs and gobs of any type of food and never seem to gain weight. We are like baby birds - eat all day! And brag that we eat a lot, even junk food and fast food, with no weight gain.
Come college years, and we are less active and gain the "Freshman Fifteen" as is widely known throughout the campuses. We gain some weight. But - we actually look GOOD for our size (finally, we aren't a toothpick like HHS), but us women, tho, feel we look terrible and fat and unattractive. While this isn't the start of the miserable stage, it's getting close. And unfortunately, some women start to resort to shameful bad habits of throwing up to try to get back to HSS. Or, most of us try to exercise. Exercise seems to help lose a little weight, but we still aren't HSS. And we start to obsess about it.
At about 30, our metabolism REALLY changes. This is about the time we really, really gain more weight. Unimaginable weight. Sickening, keeping-ourselves-up-every-night worry weight.
This is the time in our lives that we try diet fads, try to work out, try anything to lose weight, only to feel like a failure because we can't keep up the routine. We are fat. And we hate it. We hate ourselves and we are miserable. We waste thousands and thousands of hours worrying and obsessing about our weight. We think of our HSS-selves and wonder how to get her back.
We may work out and we may be successful at losing weight, but I am your older voice speaking to you right now: You will never get back to HSS. I only know about 2 out of 500 women who are back (or still) at HSS. They either work out every single day, honestly know how to eat right and are extremely conscientious, have lucky genes, or are starving themselves (and anorexia is NOT pretty NOR HSS).
If you are the 2 in 500, God Bless You.
But if you aren't - and I'm prolly speaking to you - let me tell you right here and now to please stop the endless, wasted hours of wishing you were HSS again. Enjoy life and be glad you are even alive. Sure - be upset you are overweight and unhappy - but don't dwell on a fact that will never happen - being HSS again.
Trust me when I tell you it wont happen. Trust me when I tell you to yes exercise and yes enjoy eating, but also try and learn to be happy with yourself. Try to stop obsessing that you aren't HSS - it wont happen. I wasted so many damn freaking time/months/years/ thinking about how thin I want to be like I used to be.
Even if you work out and eat right, you will lose unwanted weight, but you wont be HSS.
When you are close to 40 (like late 30s or so), you will finally, finally realize you wont ever be HSS. And it's a relief! It really is! It's a relief to finally stop obsessing and spending so many stupid hours worrying about something that wont happen.
When you stop obsessing about becoming HSS, you actually become happier. You aren't fighting with your own thoughts and spending countless hours upset.
I hope you try and learn from my years of torture (yes, I call it torture) and stop obsessing and worrying about something that just wont happen.
Accept you wont be HSS.
It's okay, I promise.
(---- this timelime is based on my experience. your timeline may be different, or you may have a had children and this timeline is all messed up. either way, still not HSS. sorry. :( ---)
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Goals Versus Resolutions
Every year so many people list resolutions for the next year. I am of the opinion that resolutions aren't usually successful. I, instead, feel strongly that Goals are the proper way to go.
Resolutions are generally habits that people will try to do every day, or habits they will try to avoid for as long as they can. Unfortunately, many resolutions are forgotten in just a couple of months (or less).
While resolution shows a wonderful sense of positive intent, a truly believe a better alternative is to develop new goals for the future.
Even the definition between the two are pretty distinct, imo:
I love goals. I started to enjoy them even more after reading Dare to Win many years ago (by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen).
The key with goals is to make them realistic. I remember one year I had a goal to get Most Improved Player on a tour in the 90s. Boy, I learned my lesson! I had no control over that - someone else decided that "title" (and no, I did not win it, even though I came close).
Goals are important because they give you that something extra to strive for, to look forward to, to plan for, etc.
An important key for goals is to ensure you are specific about how to reach your goals. I don't always do this well, but as an example, if someone says, "my goal is to lose weight," the person will be more successful if they list specifically how to achieve that goal.
Goals are a better plan than resolutions for a few key reasons that I found searching the Internet:
Now that you've read some of why resolutions could fail and why goals are a more realistic route, here are some tips I found for setting goals:
Rewards.
Reward yourself with something small for continuing to stick with it, until you make enough progress toward your goals that the progress becomes its own reward.
And remember that change doesn’t come overnight, but as you work toward developing what is important to you, the change will come, and it will be lasting. Remember this, and enjoy building the life you were meant to live!
(excerpts from About.com)
Resolutions are generally habits that people will try to do every day, or habits they will try to avoid for as long as they can. Unfortunately, many resolutions are forgotten in just a couple of months (or less).
While resolution shows a wonderful sense of positive intent, a truly believe a better alternative is to develop new goals for the future.
Even the definition between the two are pretty distinct, imo:
Resolution:
a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.
Goal:
the result or achievement toward which effort is directed; aim; end.
I love goals. I started to enjoy them even more after reading Dare to Win many years ago (by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen).
The key with goals is to make them realistic. I remember one year I had a goal to get Most Improved Player on a tour in the 90s. Boy, I learned my lesson! I had no control over that - someone else decided that "title" (and no, I did not win it, even though I came close).
Goals are important because they give you that something extra to strive for, to look forward to, to plan for, etc.
An important key for goals is to ensure you are specific about how to reach your goals. I don't always do this well, but as an example, if someone says, "my goal is to lose weight," the person will be more successful if they list specifically how to achieve that goal.
Goals are a better plan than resolutions for a few key reasons that I found searching the Internet:
Rigid vs. Fluid:
Resolutions seem to have the same flavor every year, like: “I will go to bed by 10pm.” “I will stop eating junk food.” “I will go to the gym five times a week.” If these are somewhat big changes, it may feel like a huge change with no buildup. Goals, however, can be tackled in steps, beginning with baby steps and increasing in difficulty as you become more accustomed to the change. This makes goals more realistic for lasting change.
Sense of Accomplishment vs. Sense of Failure:
Goals give you a direction to aspire to, but with the baby steps you may be taking toward your goal, you can still feel like you’ve accomplished something and are on the right track. Once you’ve broken a rigid resolution, however, it’s easier to feel like a failure and give up.
The Scope of the Change:
Resolutions are usually a means to a goal, but if you find a resolution too difficult to stick to, it’s usually dropped and forgotten. With goals, if you find a change too difficult to carry out, you can drop that plan, but pick a different new behavior to try that will still lead to the same end result. For example, imagine you want to get in the habit of exercising to be in better shape. You might make a resolution to go to the gym five times a week. But if you find that you just hate the gym, you probably won’t stick to your resolution, and you’ll be no closer to your goal. However, if you make ‘getting more exercise’ the goal, you may drop the gym, but switch to walking through your neighborhood each morning, and still meet your goal.Now that you've read some of why resolutions could fail and why goals are a more realistic route, here are some tips I found for setting goals:
Think in terms of broad changes rather than specific behaviors.
For instance, resolving to “Develop A Stress Management Practice” gives more room for growth and change than “Do Yoga Every Morning”. While you’ll want to put your broad goals into specific behaviors, deciding to Develop a Stress Management Practice gives you room to experiment, and allows you to change course if you find that Yoga isn’t working for you.
Think in terms of what you’d like to add to your life, rather than what you’d like to take away.
For example, instead of making the goal to “Eat Less Unhealthy Food”, focus on trying to “Eat More Healthy Food”. You may subconsciously feel more deprived if you think of taking something away rather than adding something good, and if you replace unhealthy food in your diet with healthy food, the same goal is accomplished. Also, it’s usually easier to add a behavior than to stop a behavior.
Keep goals in the forefront of your mind.
Keep them listed in your day-planner, have them as part of your screen saver, or post-it them in prominent places around your house for a while.Rewards.
Reward yourself with something small for continuing to stick with it, until you make enough progress toward your goals that the progress becomes its own reward.
And remember that change doesn’t come overnight, but as you work toward developing what is important to you, the change will come, and it will be lasting. Remember this, and enjoy building the life you were meant to live!
(excerpts from About.com)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
If A Man Wants You - link
This article (If a Man Wants You) was posted on FaceBook by a few friends. The author says: This advice was passed along to me from a counselor; it was great to hear so I wanted to share it.
I liked this so much, I'm sharing it, also. :) You can check out the entire article (it's not very long), but here are a few lines I like best:
I liked this so much, I'm sharing it, also. :) You can check out the entire article (it's not very long), but here are a few lines I like best:
- If a man wants you, nothing can keep him away.
- If he doesn’t want you, nothing can make him stay.
- Stop making excuses for a man and his behavior.
- Never live your life for a man before you find what makes you truly happy.
- The only person you can control in a relationship is you.
- If something bothers you, speak up.
- Never let a man know everything. He will use it against you later.
- You cannot change a man’s behavior. Change comes from within
- Never let a man define who you are.
- A man will only treat you the way you allow him to treat you.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Birds Frolicking!
These birds were frolicking one day in a little puddle they found. They were so cute trying to bathe themselves with friends, even with cars driving by.
This intersection was located two blocks from the Heart Hospital that my Mom was in at the time. I love the outdoors because of my Mom!
This intersection was located two blocks from the Heart Hospital that my Mom was in at the time. I love the outdoors because of my Mom!
Friday, December 16, 2011
People In Our Lives to Become Who We Are Meant to Be
God doesn't give you the people you want; He gives you the people you NEED... to help you, to hurt you, to leave you, to love you, and to make you into the person you were meant to be.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Forgiveness
I'm learning a lot lately.
One thing I'm learning about is Forgiveness.
I honestly don't think I realized how powerful this word was, what it does, how it helps.
Sometimes I think, "How can I forgive when it hurts so much?"
But what I've recently learned is this: In the end, we are the ones who suffer most when we choose not to forgive.
Seriously.
A lot of time is spent crying over being hurt, huh? While mourning over hurt is necessary and healing in itself, I've learned that forgiveness helps:
And forgiveness HAS allowed me to grow.
I have also recently learned to forgive myself. And it was hard! In order to forgive oneself, it means you did something wrong. It means I didn't like who I saw in the mirror and what I did. I hurt for days, but then I finally forgave myself. It was hard; difficult; it hurt.
But to forgive others means we can stop obsessing over things. We can move on. Take acceptance to what happened and that helps OURSELVES. Forgiveness, while sometimes difficult to to, allows us to stop consuming ourselves with paralyzing thoughts and raw emotions that drag through our minds endlessly all the time; keep us awake all night, ruin our sleep, deprive us of having a good day.
I am actually liking forgiveness. For whatever reason, it allows me to move past the hurt faster (which I for one will easily take!).
Wish I would have known about it sooner in life. I probably did, just didn't realize how powerful it truly was until recently because of some things I have gone through. Talking about forgiveness has really opened my eyes.
One thing I'm learning about is Forgiveness.
I honestly don't think I realized how powerful this word was, what it does, how it helps.
Sometimes I think, "How can I forgive when it hurts so much?"
But what I've recently learned is this: In the end, we are the ones who suffer most when we choose not to forgive.
Seriously.
A lot of time is spent crying over being hurt, huh? While mourning over hurt is necessary and healing in itself, I've learned that forgiveness helps:
There may well be memories we are unable to put out of our minds, but we choose not to allow them to control our attitudes and behavior in the future, even toward those who may be responsible for those memories.Forgiveness is not excusing!
Forgiveness is not denying that the one who has caused the hurt is responsible for their actions. There is a place for making allowances for people’s behavior.I now truly and faithfully believe in this from Mahatma Gandhi:
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."Forgiving is not easy. But when it can be accomplished, it really does make us stronger. WE are taking control. We aren't letting emotions or others ruin our spirit.
And forgiveness HAS allowed me to grow.
I have also recently learned to forgive myself. And it was hard! In order to forgive oneself, it means you did something wrong. It means I didn't like who I saw in the mirror and what I did. I hurt for days, but then I finally forgave myself. It was hard; difficult; it hurt.
But to forgive others means we can stop obsessing over things. We can move on. Take acceptance to what happened and that helps OURSELVES. Forgiveness, while sometimes difficult to to, allows us to stop consuming ourselves with paralyzing thoughts and raw emotions that drag through our minds endlessly all the time; keep us awake all night, ruin our sleep, deprive us of having a good day.
I am actually liking forgiveness. For whatever reason, it allows me to move past the hurt faster (which I for one will easily take!).
Wish I would have known about it sooner in life. I probably did, just didn't realize how powerful it truly was until recently because of some things I have gone through. Talking about forgiveness has really opened my eyes.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Apologies
Why do people think saying "I'm Sorry" is a magic pill to stop pain and hurt?
Although saying "I'm Sorry" means more than never saying it, it still takes time to get over being hurt.
And what about when people say "I didn't mean to hurt you" or "It wasn't intentional."
While I might appreciate the reminder that no one intended to hurt me, the bottom line is I still am hurt and that doesn't go away so easily.
I don't think I've ever in my life told someone, "I didn't meant to hurt you."
The point is, I hurt them (no matter intentionally or not) and I would apologize and then feel very badly along with them, in hopes for fogiveness.
It seems to me people use that as an excuse. "I didn't mean to hurt you, so move on." It doesn't work that way. It's still pain, no matter if you meant it or not.
Others think the words "I'm sorry" means it's an indication you should be feeling better now that they've apologized. "Okay, move on now. I've apologized, we're cool right?"
I can't judge when the pain will leave. The words are not a magic pill. It takes time to get over being hurt.
And every time I get hurt, it seems it takes longer to get over.
Although saying "I'm Sorry" means more than never saying it, it still takes time to get over being hurt.
And what about when people say "I didn't mean to hurt you" or "It wasn't intentional."
While I might appreciate the reminder that no one intended to hurt me, the bottom line is I still am hurt and that doesn't go away so easily.
I don't think I've ever in my life told someone, "I didn't meant to hurt you."
The point is, I hurt them (no matter intentionally or not) and I would apologize and then feel very badly along with them, in hopes for fogiveness.
It seems to me people use that as an excuse. "I didn't mean to hurt you, so move on." It doesn't work that way. It's still pain, no matter if you meant it or not.
Others think the words "I'm sorry" means it's an indication you should be feeling better now that they've apologized. "Okay, move on now. I've apologized, we're cool right?"
I can't judge when the pain will leave. The words are not a magic pill. It takes time to get over being hurt.
And every time I get hurt, it seems it takes longer to get over.
Friday, November 18, 2011
My Emotional Switzerland Trip
I saw a note on FaceBook in late September. "Anyone want to be a travel buddy and help me fly to Switzerland?" one of my friends posted.
My girlfriend, Cristina, had an 8-month old son and Little Marco's Dad lives in Switzerland and she was moving her and Little Marco there from Texas.
I saw the post, went about my day, had dinner, got in bed, phone starts to vibrate.
It's Cristina asking me if I want to help her fly to Switzerland. I was like, "uh, I dunno about that." She suggests maybe I could use the break (because of my Mom's recent passing), along with helping her with her move.
Turns out she has trouble flying. To the point she has to take motion-sickness meds which causes her to sleep and also not be able to eat (which means no energy). Since she would be traveling so far with many layovers with a baby and extra bags (because she was moving there), her and Little Marco would need definitely need some help.
Cristina and Marco had budgeted for a travel companion when they saved up money for the move, but I still felt guilty about that part. But Marco couldn't fly there and back AND get the apartment ready for the move all the while trying to work.
Here's the kicker about me, tho, lol: I hate long flights, despise international travel, have never been around a baby before, and the trip was only about 2-3 weeks away.
But, the next day, I researched my vacation time, checked if my passport was up-to-date, and debated, "should I even go? Really? This would be crazy."
Then I talked to my boss about the dates, remembered there was a holiday on that Monday we would be traveling, and thought, "I actually, could feasibly go on this trip."
So I told her yes.
And then a funny thing happened.
I got excited!
OMG, I was going to Switzerland! I hate long flights and international travel but hey, I was going to Switzerland! I hear it's so beautiful there and who could pass up this opportunity anyway??
So, why was this trip so emotional for me, you are asking yourself?
Well, it moved me to tears throughout the entire trip because I was able to go because sadly, my Mom passed. Although she would have loved for me to go and have this experience, it's because of her passing I could go at all, because otherwise I would be home taking care of her (for the last 1 1/2 years I haven't traveled).
Further, every flight I ever took (I used to travel quite often), I would always call my Mom before take off. She would tell me every time, "Pass on to the pilot he has precious cargo - he better fly safe!" And I also called her each time I landed, "I made it, Mom." "Oh good," she would reply with an always added "I love you."
"I love you, too, Mom."
So, flying to Austin the night before to meet Cristina was brutal. And then the next day EACH leg of the trip to and from Switzerland was brutal.
I cried, every single take off and landing.
When Cristina's parents dropped us off at the airport, I lost it! I'm crying and crying as I see parents trying to say goodbye to their daughter and grandson. I cried more than they did because they were all trying to keep it together, but I was so moved and torn up about what I was witnessing because I know how much Cristina is going to miss her family and I know how much the Grandparents are going to miss Little Marco and his Mom (their beloved daughter).
Then when we finally get to Switzerland, Marco's sisters met us at the airport at 730 in the morning to welcome their new family members (and the first grand baby/nephew of the family). I lost it again as Marco finally got to hold Cristina and Little Marco after being apart for the last few months, while at the same time his sisters were enamored with joy and tears about finally meeting Little Marco for the first time. Luckily I finally wasn't the only one crying hard, lol.
But it was very moving for me to see both spectrum's in a 24-hour time period, all the while trying to fly without hearing my Mom's voice.
As the 5 days in Switzerland progressed, many friends back home asked me how the scenery was and was it beautiful there. The answer was yes. Because I saw the most amazing thing I have prolly ever witnessed: the undying love between a Mother and Child.
I don't think anyone would have ever guessed this was Cristina's first child, because she is a such a great Mother to Little Marco - caring, empathized, loved, cherished, nurtured, etc.
Little Marco warmed up to me and he and I became fast friends. You would never have guessed I hadn't EVER been around a baby before. But it was Marco that allowed me to be his friend and within only a few days, he and I would have long talks and spend quality time together as I wanted Cristina and Marco to be able to get things for their new apartment. Little Marco was charming and alluring all at the same time to me. For an 8-month-old, he stole my heart!
But it was the love between Mother and Child that moved me.
I loved the times I overheard Cristina laugh when Little Marco would smile at her. I loved seeing Little Marco light up a room when his Mom would walk in. I loved how Cristina could make Little Marco stop crying or start to laugh and giggle. I loved how she helped Little Marco transition from Texas with Grandparents to Switzerland with Mom and Dad. And I loved that I was able to witness for 5 full days the boundless, tremendous, immeasurable love between a Mother and her Child.
I am so extremely grateful beyond words I was able to witness such a thing. I honestly don't think I would have ever seen the bond like this between a Mother and Child if I didn't go on this trip. While maybe in the future I might see friends with their babies, nothing will compare to this. It was for 5 entire, full, amazing, moving days. The timing was beautiful, although exponentially emotional, but so amazingly wonderful to be a part of. I now truly understand just how much my Mom loved me and had love for me. And why we were so beautifully close. Even as I write this, I'm crying.
I admire Cristina and Marco. This was a huge step but the right step, but it wasn't easy. Cristina left her entire family, her friends, and job to do what was right for Little Marco and give him am amazing country to grow up in with both his parents.
Mourning the loss of the most important person in your life is very difficult to describe and to also overcome. And although Cristina and Marco thought the trip to Switzerland would take my mind off things (i.e., my Mom's passing), it reinforced just how much I love my Mom with all my might.
I will never be able to explain just how moving, emotional, sentimental, and therapeutic this trip was for me and my heart.
I'm so very grateful Cristina thought of little 'ole me to help her move. She told me she thought the trip would distract me from my sorrow and she also expressed she knew what a helpful person I was and thought I could be a big help to her.
I am so glad she thought of me!
Because Cristina and Little Marco needed my help, and instead, they helped me.
My girlfriend, Cristina, had an 8-month old son and Little Marco's Dad lives in Switzerland and she was moving her and Little Marco there from Texas.
I saw the post, went about my day, had dinner, got in bed, phone starts to vibrate.
It's Cristina asking me if I want to help her fly to Switzerland. I was like, "uh, I dunno about that." She suggests maybe I could use the break (because of my Mom's recent passing), along with helping her with her move.
Turns out she has trouble flying. To the point she has to take motion-sickness meds which causes her to sleep and also not be able to eat (which means no energy). Since she would be traveling so far with many layovers with a baby and extra bags (because she was moving there), her and Little Marco would need definitely need some help.
Cristina and Marco had budgeted for a travel companion when they saved up money for the move, but I still felt guilty about that part. But Marco couldn't fly there and back AND get the apartment ready for the move all the while trying to work.
Here's the kicker about me, tho, lol: I hate long flights, despise international travel, have never been around a baby before, and the trip was only about 2-3 weeks away.
But, the next day, I researched my vacation time, checked if my passport was up-to-date, and debated, "should I even go? Really? This would be crazy."
Then I talked to my boss about the dates, remembered there was a holiday on that Monday we would be traveling, and thought, "I actually, could feasibly go on this trip."
So I told her yes.
And then a funny thing happened.
I got excited!
OMG, I was going to Switzerland! I hate long flights and international travel but hey, I was going to Switzerland! I hear it's so beautiful there and who could pass up this opportunity anyway??
So, why was this trip so emotional for me, you are asking yourself?
Well, it moved me to tears throughout the entire trip because I was able to go because sadly, my Mom passed. Although she would have loved for me to go and have this experience, it's because of her passing I could go at all, because otherwise I would be home taking care of her (for the last 1 1/2 years I haven't traveled).
Further, every flight I ever took (I used to travel quite often), I would always call my Mom before take off. She would tell me every time, "Pass on to the pilot he has precious cargo - he better fly safe!" And I also called her each time I landed, "I made it, Mom." "Oh good," she would reply with an always added "I love you."
"I love you, too, Mom."
So, flying to Austin the night before to meet Cristina was brutal. And then the next day EACH leg of the trip to and from Switzerland was brutal.
I cried, every single take off and landing.
When Cristina's parents dropped us off at the airport, I lost it! I'm crying and crying as I see parents trying to say goodbye to their daughter and grandson. I cried more than they did because they were all trying to keep it together, but I was so moved and torn up about what I was witnessing because I know how much Cristina is going to miss her family and I know how much the Grandparents are going to miss Little Marco and his Mom (their beloved daughter).
Then when we finally get to Switzerland, Marco's sisters met us at the airport at 730 in the morning to welcome their new family members (and the first grand baby/nephew of the family). I lost it again as Marco finally got to hold Cristina and Little Marco after being apart for the last few months, while at the same time his sisters were enamored with joy and tears about finally meeting Little Marco for the first time. Luckily I finally wasn't the only one crying hard, lol.
But it was very moving for me to see both spectrum's in a 24-hour time period, all the while trying to fly without hearing my Mom's voice.
As the 5 days in Switzerland progressed, many friends back home asked me how the scenery was and was it beautiful there. The answer was yes. Because I saw the most amazing thing I have prolly ever witnessed: the undying love between a Mother and Child.
I don't think anyone would have ever guessed this was Cristina's first child, because she is a such a great Mother to Little Marco - caring, empathized, loved, cherished, nurtured, etc.
Little Marco warmed up to me and he and I became fast friends. You would never have guessed I hadn't EVER been around a baby before. But it was Marco that allowed me to be his friend and within only a few days, he and I would have long talks and spend quality time together as I wanted Cristina and Marco to be able to get things for their new apartment. Little Marco was charming and alluring all at the same time to me. For an 8-month-old, he stole my heart!
But it was the love between Mother and Child that moved me.
I loved the times I overheard Cristina laugh when Little Marco would smile at her. I loved seeing Little Marco light up a room when his Mom would walk in. I loved how Cristina could make Little Marco stop crying or start to laugh and giggle. I loved how she helped Little Marco transition from Texas with Grandparents to Switzerland with Mom and Dad. And I loved that I was able to witness for 5 full days the boundless, tremendous, immeasurable love between a Mother and her Child.
I am so extremely grateful beyond words I was able to witness such a thing. I honestly don't think I would have ever seen the bond like this between a Mother and Child if I didn't go on this trip. While maybe in the future I might see friends with their babies, nothing will compare to this. It was for 5 entire, full, amazing, moving days. The timing was beautiful, although exponentially emotional, but so amazingly wonderful to be a part of. I now truly understand just how much my Mom loved me and had love for me. And why we were so beautifully close. Even as I write this, I'm crying.
I admire Cristina and Marco. This was a huge step but the right step, but it wasn't easy. Cristina left her entire family, her friends, and job to do what was right for Little Marco and give him am amazing country to grow up in with both his parents.
Mourning the loss of the most important person in your life is very difficult to describe and to also overcome. And although Cristina and Marco thought the trip to Switzerland would take my mind off things (i.e., my Mom's passing), it reinforced just how much I love my Mom with all my might.
I will never be able to explain just how moving, emotional, sentimental, and therapeutic this trip was for me and my heart.
I'm so very grateful Cristina thought of little 'ole me to help her move. She told me she thought the trip would distract me from my sorrow and she also expressed she knew what a helpful person I was and thought I could be a big help to her.
I am so glad she thought of me!
Because Cristina and Little Marco needed my help, and instead, they helped me.
Pic I took in Switzerland
My Mom and I, when we traveled from Japan to the States (I was about 1 1/2).
Grandma, Little Marco, and all the luggage, at the Austin, Texas Airport
Welcome balloons in English and German
Little Marco and I
Cristina and Little Marco
Dad and Little Marco
My first stamp in my passport
The Cutey Pie!!
Monday, October 24, 2011
My Mom's Cute Butt
As most women, my Mom was very proud. She would insist on wearing her wig to the Emergency Room, or tell me, "Can we go to the ER tomorrow? I want to take a bath before we go in." Putting off the inevitable for another day, but at least she felt better after I bathed her. She was a silly woman but I loved her with all my might.
One day I will be that same woman who wants to ensure I look and feel clean before I hobble with a my walking cane into the hospital.
One of my Mom's greatest fears was to be in a nursing home. I tried to keep that promise to her but a year ago she was in the hospital for 50 days and she therefore did not get out of bed a lot. This meant she could no longer walk on her own, not even to just the bathroom. Her legs just stopped working well because they had no muscle/strength from lack of use. She hadn't used them in so long and she was already very frail and weak.
So, when she was "well enough" to leave the hospital, she had to go to a rehab place to get therapy to learn to walk again. This thing is, rehab places are really another way to say "nursing home."
I looked at a few places (the insurance company gave us choices) and I was repulsed by most of them. Almost nightmare-ish type of places that I would kill myself before letting her stay in a place like that. Luckily I finally found a decent one near our house and that allowed me to visit her in the morning before work and also easily after work.
She HATED the place. But I tried to remind her that this place was a palace compared to the others I saw.
She ate in her room and stayed in her room for about 45 days she was there, because she couldn't walk on her own. She was there for physical therapy and so once a day (but not on weekends) she was wheeled down the hall to a room to work on her arm and leg exercises. There were other older folks there for physical rehab, too, and she liked most of the people who helped her try to get better.
However, the workers, the aides, the butt-wipers, she did NOT like. The ladies who treated her like an object and not a human, she despised. She hated when she would have to push the nurse button and wait for anywhere from 5-15 mins before someone came back in to remove the pee pan from her bottom while she laid on it in her bed.
She also hated the food. I would actually bring her things to eat from the house because she wouldn't eat the food. I don't blame her. It was crappy.
I would make her sandwiches or bring her favorite pudding, yogurt, or pineapple chunks.
My Mom hated for anyone to see her naked, but she didn't mind the nurses who helped her go to the bathroom in the hospital, or the nurses' aides in the hospital who bathed her in bed. But the "aides" in the nursing home made her feel degraded. They would wipe her hard, or not clean her enough. She was ashamed she was at this state in her life where she couldn't take care of herself. Humiliated and degraded.
My Mom wanted to come home so badly, but I could not take care of her and also work. It broke my heart. :( But we both had no choice.
It was a brutal time.
So, our goal was for her to get strong enough just to be able to get out of the bed and use the bedside commode. If she could do that, she could come home!
In the meantime of her doing her daily exercises during the week, she mostly watched tv and savored the few visits of her favorite neighbor (okay, the only neighbor to visit) and the two physical therapists that made her feel like a human.
My Mom was so embarrassed of her butt and nakedness, that I finally figured out that it was no coincidence that she needed to go number two almost every time I visited. I honestly feel she would hold her potty each day until I got there, because she despised the "aides" wiping her. Seeing her. Treating her with no respect.
She would say shyly, "I think I have to go." I would grab two latex gloves from the box next to the door, get out the butt wipes and grab the bed pan.
She also had impeccable timing during my evening visits. I would bring us dinner and as I'm biting into my hamburger or taco, she would say, "uh oh," lol.
I never minded helping her. And although she hated me seeing her butt more than anyone else, she trusted me more than anyone else.
She knew I would be gentle and yet also wipe til she was completely clean. I took care of my Mom. Like she took care of me when I was a baby. :)
She would always say so dang embarrassed and frustrated, "don't look at me" which meant, "don't look at my naked butt."
How do you not look past butt cheeks when you are trying to clean down there, lol?
She was in her mid to late 60s and at this point in life, her butt was not tight anymore and she despised her whole entire body and what it now looked like. What I saw was a very cute butt though. It was my Moms butt, and it was cute!
I would check her sore (she always got one at the bottom of her spine from laying in bed for so long) and I would change her bandages after I wiped her.
In Tuesdays With Morrie, Morrie states when he can no longer wipe his butt, he knows he has lost all dignity. It's the thing he dreaded most - the day he can no longer wipe his own a$$.
Eventually, I would make her laugh during her, "uh, oh, I gotta go #2," episodes. I would put the latex gloves on, and hold my hands up acting all sanitary like I was preparing for surgery. She would laugh and laugh at me as I asked an imaginary nurse for a scalpel, lol.
I was SO proud of my Mom - she worked so hard to get out of "that place" and she did! About 45 days later, she was able to come back home and use the bedside commode. And yes, wipe her own butt again. :)
Only a few more weeks she worked with the visiting physical therapist and was able to walk through the house with her cute walker with wheels and walk into her bathroom on her own, for her own privacy for once.
She would be able to do this on her own for 8 months, until the day she slipped and broke her hip, which led to her death after surgery complications.
I miss her cute butt!
One day I will be that same woman who wants to ensure I look and feel clean before I hobble with a my walking cane into the hospital.
One of my Mom's greatest fears was to be in a nursing home. I tried to keep that promise to her but a year ago she was in the hospital for 50 days and she therefore did not get out of bed a lot. This meant she could no longer walk on her own, not even to just the bathroom. Her legs just stopped working well because they had no muscle/strength from lack of use. She hadn't used them in so long and she was already very frail and weak.
So, when she was "well enough" to leave the hospital, she had to go to a rehab place to get therapy to learn to walk again. This thing is, rehab places are really another way to say "nursing home."
I looked at a few places (the insurance company gave us choices) and I was repulsed by most of them. Almost nightmare-ish type of places that I would kill myself before letting her stay in a place like that. Luckily I finally found a decent one near our house and that allowed me to visit her in the morning before work and also easily after work.
She HATED the place. But I tried to remind her that this place was a palace compared to the others I saw.
She ate in her room and stayed in her room for about 45 days she was there, because she couldn't walk on her own. She was there for physical therapy and so once a day (but not on weekends) she was wheeled down the hall to a room to work on her arm and leg exercises. There were other older folks there for physical rehab, too, and she liked most of the people who helped her try to get better.
However, the workers, the aides, the butt-wipers, she did NOT like. The ladies who treated her like an object and not a human, she despised. She hated when she would have to push the nurse button and wait for anywhere from 5-15 mins before someone came back in to remove the pee pan from her bottom while she laid on it in her bed.
She also hated the food. I would actually bring her things to eat from the house because she wouldn't eat the food. I don't blame her. It was crappy.
I would make her sandwiches or bring her favorite pudding, yogurt, or pineapple chunks.
My Mom hated for anyone to see her naked, but she didn't mind the nurses who helped her go to the bathroom in the hospital, or the nurses' aides in the hospital who bathed her in bed. But the "aides" in the nursing home made her feel degraded. They would wipe her hard, or not clean her enough. She was ashamed she was at this state in her life where she couldn't take care of herself. Humiliated and degraded.
My Mom wanted to come home so badly, but I could not take care of her and also work. It broke my heart. :( But we both had no choice.
It was a brutal time.
So, our goal was for her to get strong enough just to be able to get out of the bed and use the bedside commode. If she could do that, she could come home!
In the meantime of her doing her daily exercises during the week, she mostly watched tv and savored the few visits of her favorite neighbor (okay, the only neighbor to visit) and the two physical therapists that made her feel like a human.
My Mom was so embarrassed of her butt and nakedness, that I finally figured out that it was no coincidence that she needed to go number two almost every time I visited. I honestly feel she would hold her potty each day until I got there, because she despised the "aides" wiping her. Seeing her. Treating her with no respect.
She would say shyly, "I think I have to go." I would grab two latex gloves from the box next to the door, get out the butt wipes and grab the bed pan.
She also had impeccable timing during my evening visits. I would bring us dinner and as I'm biting into my hamburger or taco, she would say, "uh oh," lol.
I never minded helping her. And although she hated me seeing her butt more than anyone else, she trusted me more than anyone else.
She knew I would be gentle and yet also wipe til she was completely clean. I took care of my Mom. Like she took care of me when I was a baby. :)
She would always say so dang embarrassed and frustrated, "don't look at me" which meant, "don't look at my naked butt."
How do you not look past butt cheeks when you are trying to clean down there, lol?
She was in her mid to late 60s and at this point in life, her butt was not tight anymore and she despised her whole entire body and what it now looked like. What I saw was a very cute butt though. It was my Moms butt, and it was cute!
I would check her sore (she always got one at the bottom of her spine from laying in bed for so long) and I would change her bandages after I wiped her.
In Tuesdays With Morrie, Morrie states when he can no longer wipe his butt, he knows he has lost all dignity. It's the thing he dreaded most - the day he can no longer wipe his own a$$.
Eventually, I would make her laugh during her, "uh, oh, I gotta go #2," episodes. I would put the latex gloves on, and hold my hands up acting all sanitary like I was preparing for surgery. She would laugh and laugh at me as I asked an imaginary nurse for a scalpel, lol.
I was SO proud of my Mom - she worked so hard to get out of "that place" and she did! About 45 days later, she was able to come back home and use the bedside commode. And yes, wipe her own butt again. :)
Only a few more weeks she worked with the visiting physical therapist and was able to walk through the house with her cute walker with wheels and walk into her bathroom on her own, for her own privacy for once.
She would be able to do this on her own for 8 months, until the day she slipped and broke her hip, which led to her death after surgery complications.
I miss her cute butt!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
So Proud!
Went to AA.com today to print out my Itinerary, and this is what I saw!
(click to enlarge)
I swear, I teared up I was so impressed!
Breast Cancer Awareness Month. You rock!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Quote of Thursday
From one of my many prices of paper on my desk from my Chicken Soup for the Soul calendar:
When you're busy comparing one person to another or one experience to something else, you often miss out on what's right before you.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Lying
Lying is that cruel word that when it hits you in the face, you feel so low and hurt, that you can barely think of anything else.
When caught in a lie, your heart races and you get very nervous. You wonder if the person you lied to will ever forgive you.
The lies that are never found out cause no harm, unless you let the guilt riddle your insides.
If you lie to deceive, that's obviously much more hurtful.
However, even if you tell a little white lie so that your loved ones wont hurt over something stupid, though, it is still very hurtful if the person finds out.
I have an intuition about something and I think I was lied to. I think they are trying to "protect" me from getting upset over nothing. But I can tell you that I would prefer to be that judge. Because instead, I'm infuriated that I was lied to. I spend waking hours in bed thinking about it. Yes, I'm consumed.
But then I have to remember - I've told little lies, too. I don't like to hurt people and also don't want friends or loves ones to over react and so I, myself, have made choices and the decisions when to fib and not tell the truth.
The truth is not just a reflection of the person you are trying to protect, it sometimes a reflection of yourself. Sometimes we fib to save face, or can't bear to show our true colors.
I have to rationalize that when people lie to me, they are thinking they are looking out for me; they don't want me to hurt or overreact over something menial... TO THEM.
But I admit I struggle. Intuition is a very strong feeling. My intuition radar has allowed me to spot lies. And you know what? It sucks! Having an intuition about danger is a good thing. But having this gut feeling you have been lied to over something you deserve to be told the truth about is painful. And excruciating.
But, if I rationalize (which I have to do over and over and over), what I was lied about was menial. Yes, it was a lie, but the lie could have been over something much worse. That's honestly the only thing keeping my mind from going crazy with obsessing about the lie. It could be worse.
I still wish I was told the truth.
I have a friend who never admits to lies. He says once a lie has been admitted to, a woman will forever bring it up and also always wonder if he is lying again.
And now, I will always wonder.
When caught in a lie, your heart races and you get very nervous. You wonder if the person you lied to will ever forgive you.
The lies that are never found out cause no harm, unless you let the guilt riddle your insides.
If you lie to deceive, that's obviously much more hurtful.
However, even if you tell a little white lie so that your loved ones wont hurt over something stupid, though, it is still very hurtful if the person finds out.
I have an intuition about something and I think I was lied to. I think they are trying to "protect" me from getting upset over nothing. But I can tell you that I would prefer to be that judge. Because instead, I'm infuriated that I was lied to. I spend waking hours in bed thinking about it. Yes, I'm consumed.
But then I have to remember - I've told little lies, too. I don't like to hurt people and also don't want friends or loves ones to over react and so I, myself, have made choices and the decisions when to fib and not tell the truth.
The truth is not just a reflection of the person you are trying to protect, it sometimes a reflection of yourself. Sometimes we fib to save face, or can't bear to show our true colors.
I have to rationalize that when people lie to me, they are thinking they are looking out for me; they don't want me to hurt or overreact over something menial... TO THEM.
But I admit I struggle. Intuition is a very strong feeling. My intuition radar has allowed me to spot lies. And you know what? It sucks! Having an intuition about danger is a good thing. But having this gut feeling you have been lied to over something you deserve to be told the truth about is painful. And excruciating.
But, if I rationalize (which I have to do over and over and over), what I was lied about was menial. Yes, it was a lie, but the lie could have been over something much worse. That's honestly the only thing keeping my mind from going crazy with obsessing about the lie. It could be worse.
I still wish I was told the truth.
I have a friend who never admits to lies. He says once a lie has been admitted to, a woman will forever bring it up and also always wonder if he is lying again.
And now, I will always wonder.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
TV Anchorman gets Scare of Lizard!!
Check out his reaction. OMG! This is hysterical. Yep, this is my local tv station!
Monday, August 29, 2011
Speech for My Mom
Although my Mom did not want a service, my friends and neighbors wanted to hold a Celebration of Life for my Mom, Toni. I obliged. And, although it was a very, very emotionally tough day, I am glad I agreed.
I wanted to say some words about my Mom. And here is the speech I wrote a few days before the Celebration of Life, and no, I did not make it through without crying. :(
I read it slow, and deliberate.
I read it slow, and deliberate.
-------------
Toni Bailey, My Mom
The past week has been brutal. Every song on the radio is about death, love, missing someone, etc. I turned to another station on the drive over here, and Sweet Child of Mine was playing. Ugh. I was hoping Baby Got Back would come on or something.
I want to start off by first thanking my dear neighbor, David. It was no accident that out of all the houses in Fort Worth, Mom and I picked a house next to a Chaplin. God was watching over us. David would visit Mom EVERY SINGLE time she was in the hospital. Even sometimes every other day. Mom cherished his prayers and visits more than I can say.
I want to thank everyone for being here. I hate to impose on anyone and it feels real weird you all are here, but at the same time I SO appreciate the love and support I feel.
I’m not sure if Mom would be honored or ticked off right now to see you all here. haha
Mom was born in Up State New York and lived there until she went to college. As a child and growing up, she was surrounded by beautiful mountains, amazing scenery, snow-filled winters, and nature galore. I remember as a child when we would visit my Grandfather (her beloved Dad) that we would get sap from maple trees for syrup.
My Mom was THE most important person in my life. She took care of me on her own when my real father had to leave back in 1976. Yes, I know, some of you weren’t even born yet.
Back then, it wasn’t easy to take care of a child on your own – my Mom couldn’t even buy a car without being married back in the 1970s. She met my Dad (Tom Bailey) in 1980 or so, and shortly thereafter they got married.
I was born in Okinawa, Japan (I know, I don’t look Japanese) but Mom and I moved to San Antonio in 1972, and she lived there til 2008. She lived in San Antonio for Thirty Six years.
My Mom owned some land in the Texas Hill Country (only about an hour and 15 minutes from our house in San Antonio) and we would go there almost every single weekend from when I was 8 to about 16 years old. You know, 16, that’s about the age we don’t want to go on family vacations anymore.
My Mom used to check the weather starting on Wednesdays to see if the weather was good enough for us to go to The River for the upcoming weekend. I finally told her one day, "Mom, I'll just become a meteorologist and tell you the weather." And as many of you know, that is my now profession and has been for 20 years.
I “grew up” along the Frio River. Beautiful country side filled with awesome oak trees, lots of deer and other animals, and a great river to swim and tube in. I love and desire nature so much now because I grew up in such a beautiful place with my Mom. I have so many fond, amazing memories of Mom and I tubing, cooking out, knocking over deer blinds, and wandering the country side together looking for cool rocks or cool animals.
When my Mom sent me off to college at Texas A&M, it was harder on her than me. She cried for days. Her little girl was gone. But after college I moved back to San Antonio for my job and lived there til about 1998. I saw my parents often and spoke to them on the phone every other day.
When I moved to Fort Worth in 2000, I had been in Jacksonville, FL for 2 years for work. I flew my Mom to Florida so she could help me drive back to Texas. We had walkie talkies and would talk back and forth while she had the dog in the car and I had the cats in my truck. Yes, cell phones weren't common yet even back in 2000. We had a great time taking three leisurely days back to Texas. Yes, I said three days, lol.
Mom had her first long stay in a San Antonio hospital back in 2007. My Dad passed 5 months later.
Mom and I bought a house together in Fort Worth and moved there in March 2008. It was the first time she had a house with central air and carpet. I was a very proud daughter. :)
Mom had advance emphysema and she struggled through it very proudly and with a lot of strength. She HATED the hospital and wanted to be home so badly every time she had to go in.
Mom didn’t get out much because she had to wear oxygen 24/hours a day, and she didn’t want people to see her like that. But one of our last trips outside the home was to Macy’s and Carrabbas just in July. At Macy’s she bought some make-up and loafers. She also wanted a new purse. She only wanted the best (she wouldn’t listen to me that we could find a cheaper purse at Target or Walmart). I pushed her around the store in her little wheel chair and we got all of her goodies. As I got her in the car, and all of our things, I realized we had not paid for her new purse! Yep, Mom and Daughter clepto-team. Now you know the truth about us! We were so scared people would come running out to arrest us, that we fled the scene! But, admittedly, she loved that purse.
Mom’s wishes were not to be in a nursing home, not to pass away in a hospital, have me by her side, and to pass away peacefully and not in pain. She got every wish.
While we sat together in Hospice, I put sunglasses on her. She looked like a rock star! I held her hand, cried, described the pictures on the wall to her, cried, talked about The River, told her over and over again how much I loved her. I sure wish she could have responded to me. :(
She means more to me than anything and I will never be the same.
My Mom gave up a lot of sacrifices for me. I only saw the best Mom in the world who loved her daughter with all her might. She also loved animals. She worked at the humane society after she retired and she would get angry at the customers when they treated their pets badly. Mom was ”talked to” several times for her attitude, lol. But, she cared for animals deeply.
In the hospital she would tell all the nurses I was her favorite daughter. Then I would have to add, “I’m her only daughter” and we would all laugh.
My Mom had a huge heart, was very caring, loved people with all her might, cherished that I had such great friends, and we were best friends. I could talk to her about anything. Yep, even sex. Right, Brian?
Her unconditional love for me is something I will treasure the rest of my life. She told me on many occasions I was the love of her life. And I would hug her tightly and say, “you too.”
If you got to meet my lovely Mom, I think you are truly blessed. She was one in a million. And this has been the hardest week of my life.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Funeral Home Blues
The hospice place where my Mom had her final hours (August 19) recommended a place for cremation (Mom's wishes).
I called the funeral home Saturday morning, as I was told to call them the next morning following Mom's passing.
The funeral guy on the phone bluntly said he couldn't meet that day and "he was going out of town anyway."
What?
But I want my Mom cremated!
The day my Dad passed, we went to the funeral home and he was cremated right away. Granted that was 4 years ago and in a different city, but we were able to meet and make arrangements right away.
So, I expected to meet with this funeral home asap so they could cremate my Mom right away.
He said they had to get county and city permits anyway and those offices weren't open til Monday.
He said he could make me an appt for 11am Monday. I asked it be sooner in the morning and he said he had a viewing t 10 and couldn't do it before 11. So I relinquished.
Then the donation bank called me. The lovely lady offered her genuine condolences right away for my loss. She asked if she could record our convo and I said I wasn't ready and started to bawl.
I shared with her my convo with the funeral home guy and she told me cremation takes two days by law, and that indeed he was right: they had to wait for the permits only.
She also assured me Mom was being taken care of.
"Are you sure she's okay?" I asked through tears.
"Yes, the M. E.'s office has her in a fridge and are taking care of her."
"Promise?" I ask bawling and shaking.
"I promise" she said softly and assuring.
I also shared with her the guy never said he was sorry or offered his condolences. She suggested I call another funeral home who could meet with me today but I was too emotionally exhausted to start calling around.
When I arrived Monday morning at 11am at the funeral home, I had a friend in tow so I wasn't alone. I met with a lady (not the guy who was on the phone from Saturday) and she handled all the paperwork.
At the very beginning she asked, "What is his birthday?"
What?
"His?"
"It's my Mom" I said with an raised agitated voice. She replied quickly, "Oh, I was given the wrong info. I'm sorry," as she crossed out "male" and marks "female" on the form.
"How is her name spelled?" I inquired.
"T O N I."
Okay, so they got that right and you think a TONI is a male??
Half way through the "meeting," I recognized she had yet to offer her condolences either, just like the other guy on the phone call from Saturday.
I waited til the very end. I waited til the final hand shake to see if she would say anything.
Instead, she simply ended the meeting with, "I'll call you when she's ready. Thank you." And shook my hand.
As we walked down the hall to leave, I turned to her and told her I had something to say about the phone call on Saturday.
"He never offered his condolences. As a matter of fact, you haven't either."
She stood there and replied, "I am so sorry."
Hmm... was she sorry for my Mom's passing or that she didn't say she was sorry?
She stopped me again and said she would take my words of advice into consideration and thanked me for saying something.
I turned to her and told her, "This is one of the the most difficult times in my life and I can't believe I have to offer your business such obvious advice."
She thanked me again and said she appreciated the feedback.
I go home and look up how to submit an obituary. The funeral home has to do it.
What??
I send the newspaper an email asking if I can do it myself. They tell me via email Tuesday morning I have to go through the funeral home.
Why didn't the funeral home tell me this? Why would they not bring this up? I had no idea I had to go through them. We were able to email my Dad's obit, so I guess things have changed, but how was I to know that?
The lady from the funeral home calls me just a couple of hours later and tells me Mom is ready. Still no condolences. I tell her I will TRY to pick her up later that day (Tuesday). I know it's going to be very difficult for me to pick up her ashes. I also mention I would like to submit an obit. She replies, "okay."
I call the newspaper on Tuesday afternoon and explain to the lady I simply can't pick up my Mom (which is also where I'm suppose to submit an obit) and therefore I would like to come in to the newspaper place and submit an obit in person. She seems very agitated with me and snips, "The funeral home has the program to do this online. You'd have to open an account, and it would take 20 minutes or more, and you'd have to do it by noon to get it in the next days paper."
I reply exhausted, "I just want to submit her obit."
Realizing I'm in a no-win situation and knowing I have to submit an obit soon for Mom's Celebration on Life on Sunday, I somehow manage to drive to the funeral home on Wednesday to pick up Mom.
A guy is there and also the lady who helped me Monday. I do not know if the guy is the same one I spoke to on the phone Saturday or not.
He helps me with the obit, him and his dry tone and careless attitude. I felt like I was a bother.
I told the lady it was tough to pick up my Mom and she replies, "I know."
Still no condolences.
REALLY?
Then I mention, "is it common practice for people to do obits?"
"Only if the family wants to."
She didn't see what I was getting at. I should have been more clear. Like, "Then why didn't you mention it to me on Monday?? I had no idea funeral homes had to submit obits."
She brought out Mom, I cried. No hug, of course. No words of encouragement.
I realize they do this day in and day out but really? Isn't of obvious out of everyone we deal with after a death that the funeral home would show the most compassion?
After paying for the obit (yep, it's cost by letter/word) I got in my car somehow with Mom and bawled my little eyes out.
I called my friend who had joined me on Monday because I needed to talk to someone. I told her I picked up Mom and submitted her obit. She says so sweetly, "which picture did you use?"
Huh?
What?
OMG, REALLY?
The funeral home didn't mention I could use a photo! I know as I type this it makes total sense, but I am in shock about my Mom's death and barely surviving, so of course I hadn't thought of a photo.
So, why the !#@$%^&! wouldn't the funeral home mention it to me??
Why couldn't they simply ask "have a photo, Honey?"
Really????
To say I am stunned and pissed is a an understatement. I am shocked that I had to deal with such a crappy funeral home experience.
Yes, they did their job - cremated Mom. But I would rather be telling you how they took care of me and Mom, and were comforting in my time in need. Instead, I had a horrible experience.
So badly, I'm going to share with you the name of the funeral home, because I don't want anyone else to go through this unprofessionalism during a rough time.
Alpine Funeral Home on Sylvania Avenue in Fort Worth, Texas.
I called the funeral home Saturday morning, as I was told to call them the next morning following Mom's passing.
The funeral guy on the phone bluntly said he couldn't meet that day and "he was going out of town anyway."
What?
But I want my Mom cremated!
The day my Dad passed, we went to the funeral home and he was cremated right away. Granted that was 4 years ago and in a different city, but we were able to meet and make arrangements right away.
So, I expected to meet with this funeral home asap so they could cremate my Mom right away.
He said they had to get county and city permits anyway and those offices weren't open til Monday.
He said he could make me an appt for 11am Monday. I asked it be sooner in the morning and he said he had a viewing t 10 and couldn't do it before 11. So I relinquished.
Then the donation bank called me. The lovely lady offered her genuine condolences right away for my loss. She asked if she could record our convo and I said I wasn't ready and started to bawl.
I shared with her my convo with the funeral home guy and she told me cremation takes two days by law, and that indeed he was right: they had to wait for the permits only.
She also assured me Mom was being taken care of.
"Are you sure she's okay?" I asked through tears.
"Yes, the M. E.'s office has her in a fridge and are taking care of her."
"Promise?" I ask bawling and shaking.
"I promise" she said softly and assuring.
I also shared with her the guy never said he was sorry or offered his condolences. She suggested I call another funeral home who could meet with me today but I was too emotionally exhausted to start calling around.
When I arrived Monday morning at 11am at the funeral home, I had a friend in tow so I wasn't alone. I met with a lady (not the guy who was on the phone from Saturday) and she handled all the paperwork.
At the very beginning she asked, "What is his birthday?"
What?
"His?"
"It's my Mom" I said with an raised agitated voice. She replied quickly, "Oh, I was given the wrong info. I'm sorry," as she crossed out "male" and marks "female" on the form.
"How is her name spelled?" I inquired.
"T O N I."
Okay, so they got that right and you think a TONI is a male??
Half way through the "meeting," I recognized she had yet to offer her condolences either, just like the other guy on the phone call from Saturday.
I waited til the very end. I waited til the final hand shake to see if she would say anything.
Instead, she simply ended the meeting with, "I'll call you when she's ready. Thank you." And shook my hand.
As we walked down the hall to leave, I turned to her and told her I had something to say about the phone call on Saturday.
"He never offered his condolences. As a matter of fact, you haven't either."
She stood there and replied, "I am so sorry."
Hmm... was she sorry for my Mom's passing or that she didn't say she was sorry?
She stopped me again and said she would take my words of advice into consideration and thanked me for saying something.
I turned to her and told her, "This is one of the the most difficult times in my life and I can't believe I have to offer your business such obvious advice."
She thanked me again and said she appreciated the feedback.
I go home and look up how to submit an obituary. The funeral home has to do it.
What??
I send the newspaper an email asking if I can do it myself. They tell me via email Tuesday morning I have to go through the funeral home.
Why didn't the funeral home tell me this? Why would they not bring this up? I had no idea I had to go through them. We were able to email my Dad's obit, so I guess things have changed, but how was I to know that?
The lady from the funeral home calls me just a couple of hours later and tells me Mom is ready. Still no condolences. I tell her I will TRY to pick her up later that day (Tuesday). I know it's going to be very difficult for me to pick up her ashes. I also mention I would like to submit an obit. She replies, "okay."
I call the newspaper on Tuesday afternoon and explain to the lady I simply can't pick up my Mom (which is also where I'm suppose to submit an obit) and therefore I would like to come in to the newspaper place and submit an obit in person. She seems very agitated with me and snips, "The funeral home has the program to do this online. You'd have to open an account, and it would take 20 minutes or more, and you'd have to do it by noon to get it in the next days paper."
I reply exhausted, "I just want to submit her obit."
Realizing I'm in a no-win situation and knowing I have to submit an obit soon for Mom's Celebration on Life on Sunday, I somehow manage to drive to the funeral home on Wednesday to pick up Mom.
A guy is there and also the lady who helped me Monday. I do not know if the guy is the same one I spoke to on the phone Saturday or not.
He helps me with the obit, him and his dry tone and careless attitude. I felt like I was a bother.
I told the lady it was tough to pick up my Mom and she replies, "I know."
Still no condolences.
REALLY?
Then I mention, "is it common practice for people to do obits?"
"Only if the family wants to."
She didn't see what I was getting at. I should have been more clear. Like, "Then why didn't you mention it to me on Monday?? I had no idea funeral homes had to submit obits."
She brought out Mom, I cried. No hug, of course. No words of encouragement.
I realize they do this day in and day out but really? Isn't of obvious out of everyone we deal with after a death that the funeral home would show the most compassion?
After paying for the obit (yep, it's cost by letter/word) I got in my car somehow with Mom and bawled my little eyes out.
I called my friend who had joined me on Monday because I needed to talk to someone. I told her I picked up Mom and submitted her obit. She says so sweetly, "which picture did you use?"
Huh?
What?
OMG, REALLY?
The funeral home didn't mention I could use a photo! I know as I type this it makes total sense, but I am in shock about my Mom's death and barely surviving, so of course I hadn't thought of a photo.
So, why the !#@$%^&! wouldn't the funeral home mention it to me??
Why couldn't they simply ask "have a photo, Honey?"
Really????
To say I am stunned and pissed is a an understatement. I am shocked that I had to deal with such a crappy funeral home experience.
Yes, they did their job - cremated Mom. But I would rather be telling you how they took care of me and Mom, and were comforting in my time in need. Instead, I had a horrible experience.
So badly, I'm going to share with you the name of the funeral home, because I don't want anyone else to go through this unprofessionalism during a rough time.
Alpine Funeral Home on Sylvania Avenue in Fort Worth, Texas.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Only Child or Siblings?
Being an only child has its benefits. You always get a car first, you don't get hand me downs, you don't hear "your brother/sister never did that when they were young," and more importantly, you get spoiled.
There's no other siblings to fight for affection and you come first. You also never have to worry about favorites. (I have heard one of the worst things about having siblings is when you have thought your whole life that for some reason another was "the favorite." )
I'm sure there are benefits to having siblings. I don't have any siblings, but I bet they had fun playing games with each other (I never had a board game opponent), and they could go shopping together and share items. They could also offer advice to their younger siblings and also have someone look after them at school when they got in trouble.
When us "children" get older, it means our parents get older. It means we have choices to make at difficult times. It means when they get ill, you have to make decisions. Whatever the decision is, it's not easy.
One of my coworkers told me I was lucky to be an only child. I was surprised he would say that. But he said when it was time to make the "decision" about his Dad, the siblings did not agree and it caused a huge emotional fight and caused rifts that may never be sealed back. He said I was lucky that it was just me who had to make decisions about my Mom.
Really?
Come sit with me in the hospital by myself. Come spend countless hours being the only one here. There are no "taking shifts," like siblings share. There is no one else. There is no one to hug, no one to lean on.
Really? I'm lucky?
I do understand what he meant. He meant that I have no one to argue with about decisions; about what is best for my Mom. He meant that he has clashed so many times with his siblings during important life decisions, it's caused immense pain and emotional suffering between them. He meant that when they couldn't agree what to do on his Dad's final days, it was brutal.
However, one way to resolve this is to find out ahead of time what the final wishes are for your parents. What do they want? Haven't talked about it with them? Maybe your parents know, but haven't told you. Maybe they don't realize how old they really are, and YOU need to bring it up (for the betterment of your entire family).
However, don't congratulate me for being an only child.
The one thing I can say that I do NOT have to deal with is sibling animosity. I have seen this a lot through simple comments from friends and coworkers. Usually one sibling always sticks near the nest. The other siblings move away. For whatever reason this seems to happen. And even if one or more do no stay near the nest, when the parents get old enough, the parents have to move near to one of the siblings (usually near the sibling who could help them most).
Don't get me wrong - I haven't found a parent yet that WANTS help from their child or who WANTS their child to care for them or help them every day. It's a very difficult thing for anyone to accept they are too old and need help.
My point is, though - the close siblings who take care of the parents get frustrated, exhausted, tired, stressed, and...... resentful. They resent their other siblings who are far away and not dealing with the day to day health problems and issues and concerns. They see you come visit, but get to leave. They see you come visit and then try to offer advice. Really? Where have YOU been?
To be a caretaker causes one to be emotionally overextended and exhausted with both physical fatigue and a sense of feeling psychologically and emotionally drained. So, the caretaker gets jealous and resentful they have to feel like that all the time.
Even a few of my friends used to tell me, "I can't handle being there."
Wow, really?
Because your siblings have no choice. Ever think of that?
That's one of the major things I can say I enjoy about being an only child - I have no resentment over or against anyone. I feel it's my right and duty to be my Mom's caretaker. She took care of me, I take care of her.
Do I feel extremely desolate because I'm all alone handling everything? Sure, who wouldn't. Do I cry uncontrollably because I have no one to hug and no one here for me? Of course. But I don't feel bad for myself that I'm in this position to be able to help the woman who created me and brought me up. I love her with all my heart.
And I wish today more than anything she was out of this hospital and back in her own bed at our house watching her favorite shows on tv.
There's no other siblings to fight for affection and you come first. You also never have to worry about favorites. (I have heard one of the worst things about having siblings is when you have thought your whole life that for some reason another was "the favorite." )
I'm sure there are benefits to having siblings. I don't have any siblings, but I bet they had fun playing games with each other (I never had a board game opponent), and they could go shopping together and share items. They could also offer advice to their younger siblings and also have someone look after them at school when they got in trouble.
When us "children" get older, it means our parents get older. It means we have choices to make at difficult times. It means when they get ill, you have to make decisions. Whatever the decision is, it's not easy.
One of my coworkers told me I was lucky to be an only child. I was surprised he would say that. But he said when it was time to make the "decision" about his Dad, the siblings did not agree and it caused a huge emotional fight and caused rifts that may never be sealed back. He said I was lucky that it was just me who had to make decisions about my Mom.
Really?
Come sit with me in the hospital by myself. Come spend countless hours being the only one here. There are no "taking shifts," like siblings share. There is no one else. There is no one to hug, no one to lean on.
Really? I'm lucky?
I do understand what he meant. He meant that I have no one to argue with about decisions; about what is best for my Mom. He meant that he has clashed so many times with his siblings during important life decisions, it's caused immense pain and emotional suffering between them. He meant that when they couldn't agree what to do on his Dad's final days, it was brutal.
However, one way to resolve this is to find out ahead of time what the final wishes are for your parents. What do they want? Haven't talked about it with them? Maybe your parents know, but haven't told you. Maybe they don't realize how old they really are, and YOU need to bring it up (for the betterment of your entire family).
However, don't congratulate me for being an only child.
The one thing I can say that I do NOT have to deal with is sibling animosity. I have seen this a lot through simple comments from friends and coworkers. Usually one sibling always sticks near the nest. The other siblings move away. For whatever reason this seems to happen. And even if one or more do no stay near the nest, when the parents get old enough, the parents have to move near to one of the siblings (usually near the sibling who could help them most).
Don't get me wrong - I haven't found a parent yet that WANTS help from their child or who WANTS their child to care for them or help them every day. It's a very difficult thing for anyone to accept they are too old and need help.
My point is, though - the close siblings who take care of the parents get frustrated, exhausted, tired, stressed, and...... resentful. They resent their other siblings who are far away and not dealing with the day to day health problems and issues and concerns. They see you come visit, but get to leave. They see you come visit and then try to offer advice. Really? Where have YOU been?
To be a caretaker causes one to be emotionally overextended and exhausted with both physical fatigue and a sense of feeling psychologically and emotionally drained. So, the caretaker gets jealous and resentful they have to feel like that all the time.
Even a few of my friends used to tell me, "I can't handle being there."
Wow, really?
Because your siblings have no choice. Ever think of that?
That's one of the major things I can say I enjoy about being an only child - I have no resentment over or against anyone. I feel it's my right and duty to be my Mom's caretaker. She took care of me, I take care of her.
Do I feel extremely desolate because I'm all alone handling everything? Sure, who wouldn't. Do I cry uncontrollably because I have no one to hug and no one here for me? Of course. But I don't feel bad for myself that I'm in this position to be able to help the woman who created me and brought me up. I love her with all my heart.
And I wish today more than anything she was out of this hospital and back in her own bed at our house watching her favorite shows on tv.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Living Room Mini Make-Over
My Before and After living room. From drab to fab. I'm proud of my little mini make over because I hardly ever do things like this, so I thought I would share. :)
BEFORE (above) - the missing saddle chair, now seen below:
AFTER (above) new saddle chair. I think it adds quite nicely.
BEFORE (above) - Blah pictures on the wall, no colors except brown and tan.
After - blue pillows on couch and chair, blue accessories on table next to TV, and a cute blue table next to the couch. And two new pics with some blue in them!
Close up of the blue accessories, blue pic, and blue pillows on the antique chair.
BEFORE - kinda drab. Not ugly, just drab.
AFTER - Much much prettier, imo. The blue and brown and different shades of each really make the room so much pleasant on the eyes.
BEFORE (above) - Very pretty mantel and pieces on it, but with the blue pieces added (see below,) it really brightens up the area!
AFTER - You can't really tell in the pic (unless you click to enlarge) but the glass vases have blue potpourri in them. And the VERY pretty small blue bird really stands out. The blue flowers in the vase are nice, but that can be even better (will do that when I find better flowers).
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Selfishness
Being selfish is a tough road to travel on.
Although I am selfish, I would still do anything for my loved ones. I actually think of them first whenever I decide to do something, or when I'm at the store and see things they may want.
(hmm... maybe I'm not that selfish after all?)
However, because I'm selfish, this means when someone doesn't think of me in certain situations, it affects me more. Twisted thing, huh? A weird catch 22.
But more so, it hurts when a loved is a certain kind of selfish. I put them first, but yet I don't even rank high on their list. I don't even cross their mind when (to me) it's obvious I should at certain times.
I admit that no one can know what selfish acts hurt me. I admit it's my own mind (and heart) deciding what selfish acts hurt the most. Others may not even be thinking their actions are selfish.
But it hurts when my world revolves around them and yet they barely even think of me and my needs.
This hurts deep; deep to the core.
It hurts deep enough to make me cry myself to sleep at night.
I try to rationalize - Do I just give too much? Are my expectations too high? What?
If my loved ones don't think of me or put me first, it can bother me, yea. But it's when I see the times it's so obvious I should have been considered or included that hurt the most. Those are the times it hurts my heart.
I guess because no matter how selfish I am, I would still never do those type of things.
Although my loved ones are selfish, I can relate to their selfish actions because I too am selfish. I don't judge them or get upset at them. I understand, because I can be the same way. Selfish people understand when others do certain daily selfish things.
But I canNOT relate to hurting others so deeply when they make certain selfish choices.
I guess we all have our own thermometer.
What level of selfishness can we handle?
I know mine -
Those are the ones that hurt the most.
Although I am selfish, I would still do anything for my loved ones. I actually think of them first whenever I decide to do something, or when I'm at the store and see things they may want.
(hmm... maybe I'm not that selfish after all?)
However, because I'm selfish, this means when someone doesn't think of me in certain situations, it affects me more. Twisted thing, huh? A weird catch 22.
But more so, it hurts when a loved is a certain kind of selfish. I put them first, but yet I don't even rank high on their list. I don't even cross their mind when (to me) it's obvious I should at certain times.
I admit that no one can know what selfish acts hurt me. I admit it's my own mind (and heart) deciding what selfish acts hurt the most. Others may not even be thinking their actions are selfish.
But it hurts when my world revolves around them and yet they barely even think of me and my needs.
This hurts deep; deep to the core.
It hurts deep enough to make me cry myself to sleep at night.
I try to rationalize - Do I just give too much? Are my expectations too high? What?
If my loved ones don't think of me or put me first, it can bother me, yea. But it's when I see the times it's so obvious I should have been considered or included that hurt the most. Those are the times it hurts my heart.
I guess because no matter how selfish I am, I would still never do those type of things.
Although my loved ones are selfish, I can relate to their selfish actions because I too am selfish. I don't judge them or get upset at them. I understand, because I can be the same way. Selfish people understand when others do certain daily selfish things.
But I canNOT relate to hurting others so deeply when they make certain selfish choices.
I guess we all have our own thermometer.
What level of selfishness can we handle?
I know mine -
- when I personally feel I was neglected, or
- not thought of during certain decisions they made, or
- when they choose to do something that I should have been included, or
- not considered when it's so obvious I should have been
Those are the ones that hurt the most.
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