Community

 

     com·mu·ni·ty

         kəˈmyo͞onədē/

        noun

1. • 
     

     
     
   • 
     
   • 
     

     
     

     
     
   • 
     

     
     
2.    1.

      a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.

   
   

      "the sense of community that organized religion can provide"

 

A dear friend of mine, David, used to say "you build community wherever you go".  He was a world traveler with fascinating experiences to share and valuable life lessons to teach.  He was brilliant and undeniably left an indelible mark on this world before Cancer took him in 2013.

This phrase has always stuck with me...yet until this week I never fully understood its impact and power.

 

I got word on Tuesday that another lifelong friend, Jes, was moved to Hospice after an all too long and difficult fight with Cancer.  It has finally taken its toll on her amazingly strong body and spirit.  I sat there in a daze trying to figure out what to do, how to help, why any of this was happening.  I felt lost and confused and full of dread for what was to come.
 

As I walked into Hospice that first day after getting the news, my anxiety was at an all time high.  Here I was in a beautiful, yet somber building, in an unfamiliar town, not knowing what to expect and definitely not wanting to be there in the first place.  As I stepped through the doors of her room, I was greeted by a room full of faces, both familiar and new.  Some of these people I had known for a lifetime yet hadn't seen in years, some I knew more superficially, but most I had never even met until that moment.  

 

As the hours and days have worn on, I have spent a LOT of time in that room with these people.  I have learned their names, their stories, who they "belong" to/with. I have slowly figured out their connections.  And they have learned mine.  Each of them has welcomed me in with (literal) open arms.  As the only "past" person there in a room full of blood relatives, family, and friends who live richly in her "present", I haven't once felt like an outsider.  Instead, I have come to count on these people for strength, updates, and support.  I look forward to seeing them again every day.  Hospice has since become a place of love and camaraderie, jokes and playfulness (as odd as that sounds).  I have found solace there in this group of people feeling the same feelings and walking the same path.  We each have our role to play - caregiver, meal planner, information sharer, medical expert, shift scheduler, comic relief...Our contributions are all different but each part makes up a whole.  Each of us is a piece in the puzzle of community that we have built around Jes, her family and each other. 

 

We are no longer strangers from different towns, backgrounds and times in Jes's life.  We are suddenly a COMMUNITY of friends, united by a common love for this amazing woman and a shared sadness for the journey we were traveling with her.  This amazing community she has built around her makes me both proud and sad.  I am so proud (and not surprised in the least) that Jes has this rich group of amazing people that love and adore her as much as I do.  However, I am sad that I didn't know many of them until now.  I am also immensely relieved to know that her husband and three wonderful boys will continue to have the love and support of these fabulous people to carry them through the next few weeks, months and years.

 

Shortly after she was diagnosed with cancer, I was talking online with Jes and wrote, "We'll get through this, my dear. You're not alone. Now is when all your years of being wonderful to everyone else will come back to provide strength and support for you!  Because you have earned all the love that we will now shower on you :)".  These words were genuine and sincere at the time yet somehow I never quite knew just HOW true and genuine they would become. 

Our journey together is not yet over, though the end does appear to draw near.  Please pray for peace for my dear Jes.   

Size DOES Matter

At the "ripe old age" of (nearly) 35 I'm beginning to realize something.

Size really DOES matter.

Unfortunately, there isn't anything I can do about my size.  At my age, I'm pretty sure I missed that "growth spurt" boat (about 20 years ago!!).

At 4' 10", however, my size is starting to get to me.

It wasn't bad when I was little.  I was generally the "cute" one in school.  People would take me under their wing, protect me, give me adorable little pet names.  Of course it had its moments.  The "short" jokes quickly got a little old.

How's the weather down there?

or

Sorry, didn't see you way down there!

However, with a few well-timed, quippy comebacks, I maneuvered my way through adolescence with my head held high (as high as I could hold it at 4'10", that is!).

But lately, my size (or rather my SHORTNESS) has taken an ugly turn.

As if I needed one more thing to shake my confidence and make me question my adequacy...my height has raised a real issue for me.

The boys and I were on the playground the other night when some "big" girls (I mean big as in bigger than my boys at 2 & 5...so maybe 7-9?) started roughing up Alex.  It was the equivalent of mean girl bullying to a cute little boy they wanted to manhandle.  Seemingly innocent, but unnecessary and inappropriate at the same time.  This one girl in particular was trying to direct Alex, pick him up, drag him up the stairs, down the slide, through the tunnels.  And he was having nothing to do with it.  He just wanted to run free and she was trying to treat him like her personal rag doll.  I was none too happy.  

At first I intervened by making my presence known.  When I was a kid, knowing an adult was watching me was enough to steer me clear of naughtiness.  I quickly realized, however, that my watchful glare was bearing no effect.  So I tried encouraging Alex to speak up for himself...telling him to say "Put me down" or "No" or "I don't want to go down the slide"...that wasn't working either as she paid little heed to what her little "dolly" was saying and continued to manhandle him.  That's when I had to get all Mama Bear on her.  I mean, I didn't say anything mean or yell, I simply took my son away from her and told her to go play elsewhere. 

But then it occurred to me.  I've been overlooked and underestimated by ADULTS my whole life.  But here I was as an adult, not being taken seriously by a CHILD.  This will not do.  My presence was not in the least bit intimidating to her.  And I'm not trying to say I want to scare children or torment them in any way.  I just want to be seen.  That night on the playground, I was in a position of having to protect my baby and I was not being seen as a warning, a threat, or even a deterrent.

As a teenage babysitter (even today) I am used to the kids I'm "charged" with saying "I'm bigger than you" and taking pride in the inch(es) they have on me.  This realization isn't new.  It is, however, newly disheartening.

I'm not delusional enough to assume this has EVERYTHING to do with my height, of course.  I know if I were a stronger person, more confident, less wishy-washy, that I would somehow command the respect my taller counterparts have.  80% of my dilemma is probably more realistically rooted in personality than in physical traits.  But it's not easy to see that right now from where I stand.  Now the question is, where do I go with this?  I suppose there's nowhere to go, but UP.  So I shall take this tidbit, contemplate it, learn from it, and thusly GROW.

Checked Out

In a way I feel as though I have checked out from my job.  I spent weeks going back and forth with the powers-that-be trying to come to a mutually agreeable outcome for my schedule and even though we (finally) came to an agreement that essentially served both our needs, I feel a bit disgruntled about the whole process.  I find myself angry and feeling like I'd rather do anything than work for people whom I feel don’t really value me or my skills.

I’m sure a lot of this has to do with my well-documented inferiority complex and my on-going struggle against this disease I call Cellophane-itis, but nonetheless, it sucks.

So I continue trudging along, doing the best job I know how, following directions, meeting deadlines - all while secretly dreading even getting up in the morning and driving my butt in to work.  Everything there suddenly feels too politic-y and square.  They claim to be family-friendly, but for the first time, I don't really believe that.  Luckily I really like my boss and totally respect him, what he's taught me, and the work he does so I'd never leave him high and dry, but my heart just isn't in it these days.

It doesn't help that I spent three glorious weeks being a (part-time) stay-at-home-mom and saw what the other side of the coin looks like.   So, until some miracle happens I need to rally, put on my game face, dig deep and get the job done.  All while secretly hoping against all hopes that the job I want to be doing the most doesn't pass me by while I'm waiting.  

Struggling...

I really wasn't sure if I wanted to publish this post since the majority of my 20 or so readers are friends of mine and only a few really know of the struggles I've had (most prominently) in the last few years. However, as a "public service" message and in an effort to be forthright and honest with you all, I decided to go for it. Today will be anything but Wordless...

For years I battled issues in my head that made me feel like I was losing my grip. I felt unfocused, overwhelmed with even the simplest of things, and generally unhappy with a life that had all the makings for true bliss. In December of 2006, I decided I needed to talk to someone about it. It had begun to creep into my job as a Mom and I was not having it. I found myself getting easily frustrated, being short tempered, and losing my patience at the drop of a hat. I couldn't focus at work, felt like a miserable failure at home and lacked the motivation to just DO what I knew needed to be done (be it dishes, laundry, shopping, working out, or simply putting down that cookie that I knew was making and keeping me fat).

The day I made the phone call to EAP (Employee Assistance Program, a counseling service offered to employees of the company I worked for), I remember telling the woman on the other end of the phone that I just wanted to be a better Mom, wife, and employee. I was struggling in all areas. And I finally realized that I needed real help.

The verdict? Depression and Anxiety.

I waiver between thinking I'm a player in yet another all-too-often-diagnosed "trendy" illness of the moment and thinking "Yes, of course!". Looking back now it makes sense. Even still, some days I don't feel like I deserve the diagnosis. Like to be depressed I would have to have led a rough life or traveled a difficult road and since I haven't, I somehow haven't earned the right to "suffer" from depression. After all, what do I have to be depressed about? I grew up with the Cleavers, I have a great family, a roof over my head, a job that pays the bills and then some, two BEAUTIFUL and HEALTHY children. I just need to get over it. Change my perspective. Look on the bright side and focus on my blessings. Right? Shouldn't it just be that simple?

I wish.

Fast forward to today. I have been in and out of counseling, tried various medicinal supports, and have both good days and bad days.

Do I still struggle? Yes. Often.

Have I learned ways to cope? Yes. Many.

Does that make it easier? Yes. Sometimes.

It's hard to accept that this is my life. It's difficult to admit that I may always have to "deal" with this on some level. It's definitely not the worst hand life could have dealt me but it has its moments. I don't know if there's a stigma in society about it. I honestly never thought about it until just now. I guess (for once in my life!) I don't care if there is. This is who I am and what I live with.  I do the best I can.

...in a handbasket

There are days when I wonder what this world is coming to.  Days, like today, when I'm so fed up with the downward spiral society seems to be taking that I want to pack up my family and head to the mountains to raise them and protect them from all that we've become.  

When did doing the right thing get replaced by selfish, hurtful, lazy acts of UNkindness?  Why can't people seem to step outside of their bubbles or look beyond the ends of their noses to see that they're not the only ones in the world.  What ever happened to people realizing that their words and actions affect people around them?  It's as if people today are not raised with an empathy for anyone else.   Common courtesy is no longer taught and narcissism reigns supreme.

We've all been there.  You're walking two steps behind someone, with an infant car seat in one hand, a toddler in the other, and a diaper bag falling off your shoulder - only to have this "thoughtful" stranger ahead of you sneak through the door without a backward glance or even the slightest attempt to hold the door for you.  You get budged at the checkout line because you look away for a second as you reach out to redirect your wandering toddler.  Groups of kids at the mall hang with their buddies and drop f-bombs just as you walk by with your kids, as if this string of obscenities is natural or somehow vital to the oxygenation of their blood.

Today is worse for me than usual.  I feel duped.  Victimized.  I know that's melodramatic for the "tragic" events of my day, but it's the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  Assuming I was a camel, of course.

Today started as any other Tuesday.  I was running late, having had to celebrate the first full night Nathaniel slept without "Blue Paci-fighter"!!  (Yeah!)  I was having a bad hair day and had nothing to wear due to my gross negligence surrounding the gigantic laundry pile in my bedroom.

But I never saw this coming.  Rewind back a couple months and you would find me stumbling upon a blog for a young pregnant woman who was grieving the tragic diagnosis her unborn daughter had just received that did not bode well for her survival.  I have been riveted by this story.  She captivated me with her fascinating perspective on faith, her amazing way with words, her human like emotions, and her resounding strength against such incredible odds.  More recently, you would see me glued to my computer screen as updates were coming in on her blog about the arrival of sweet little April Rose - born alive and a true miracle!   Last night when I had gone to bed, this sweet baby girl was not doing well.  Just as was expected, she began to struggle and was seemingly losing her battle.  I awoke this morning to check her status....and the blog was gone.  Disappeared.  "Link not found".  I found a discussion thread asking for prayers for April Rose and her family and began to read (in horror!) as hundreds more were reeling from the news that this whole thing was a hoax - an elaborate "fictional" tale spun to lead us on.  For what reason, though?  Why would someone do that?  Money?  Glory?  Attention?  It's horrible.  She had thousands of people hanging on her every word.  Dare I say, MILLIONS, praying for her and "April Rose".  I had even told Nathaniel the story of a little girl who was sick and needed our prayers so we could pray for her at bedtime.  It's just sickening. I don't know what to think about the whole thing.  I just know I feel dumb and that people suck.  More accurately, people just can't be trusted, apparently.  

Then there's my new car.  I just got it on Sunday.  Brand spanking new.  I've literally driven it twice (three times if you count the test drive).  I refuse to put my kids in it just yet until I can get it scotch guarded and force-field protected.  I took special caution to park at the back of the parking lot at work, away from heavy traffic and flying baseballs from the field above.  Yet, what do I find when I get home from work today?  A two-feet long GASH along my back bumper.  What is WRONG with people?  What makes it ok to just HIT someone's car and not DO anything about it?  What happened to doing the right thing and leaving info?  And these are my CO-WORKERS.  People who by NATURE should be good people since they've chosen to help people for a living.  Ugh!  For those of you who know me, you know this is equally frustrating because this is the THIRD time in less than 4 months we've gone through car damage issues.  I guess the black cloud has been passed along.  

I'm just frustrated that people seem to disappoint me over and over.  (And when I say "people", I hope you know I'm speaking broadly.  I do realize this is quite general and that there are certainly exceptions.)  I can't tell you how many times just in the past week that I've sighed or been disgusted with someone's behavior or actions (or INACTION, at times!).  Nate notices things and will ask me, "What's the matter, Mommy?".  How many times can I explain to my 3-year-old that people aren't always nice?  That sometimes people do things they shouldn't do even when they know better?  

This brings me back to my hole.  The one I want to dig and live in.  The one in which I'd like to put my family and friends and bury us all away from the rest of this world.  It just seems like society is forcing us to be more skeptical, less trusting, more cynical and less giving.  Kind hearted people are taken advantage of.  Honestly good people are ridiculed or judged.  I was taught to be friendly and give people the benefit of the doubt.  I always believed good prevailed over evil.  But I'm not so sure about that anymore.  Don't get me wrong, I believe there is good in the world.  I also believe it's worth doing.  But I do believe it's getting harder and harder to make a difference against the strength of evil.  There's strength in numbers.  And the odds are not in our favor anymore.  

Spooked

Tonight is a perfect example of why I wish we could live in a perfect world...in a trusting and honest society with good people among us in mass quantity.

I'm sitting here, enjoying a nice glass of wine on a Friday evening and the doorbell rings.  It's an alarm company sales representative peddling his wares.  He seems innocent enough so I engage in conversation with him through the screen door and politely entertain his sales pitch (something my husband LOATHES me doing but I figure he's just doing his job so there's no sense in being rude or nasty).  The conversation shuffles along..."I see you currently have Brinks"..."How long have you been with them?"..."Are you happy with their service?", blah, blah, blah.  Before I know it (this guy's GOOD!), he's asking where my alarm sensors are in the door and where the main panel is located.  I'm trying desperately not to look dumb and sound knowledgeable about our system so when I have to turn him down it's for good solid reasons.  Suddenly he asks to see the system and I show him (STUPID ME!).  He asks me where I feel  the house is most vulnerable to intruders.  

Odd?  Slightly.  Bizarre?  Perhaps.  Dumb?  Absoloutely!  

I realize almost immediately that he shouldn't be in my house.   I'm instantly shocked and dismayed that he had just sales talked his way into my safe haven.  And that I LET him do so without a second thought.  Until this very moment.  At this point it's too late to go back and choose a different adventure.  Various possible scenarios - good, bad, and ridiculous (or so I hope) - are running through my head.  I'm doing my best to be polite while quickly shuffling him through to end the conversation.  Then it gets really weird.  He starts asking about my kids (Oh, no you DIDN'T!) and if it's just us the three of us that live here.  To which I reply - "and my husband" (my very LARGE, GUN TOTING husband, mind you!!!)  He asks if my husband is out.  Whoa!  Too many questions.  I flash back to the stranger danger lessons of decades past.  Never tell anyone you're home alone.  How do I NOT answer this question?  Saying "I'd rather not say" or "none of your business", as I'd no doubt like to, is a dead giveaway.  Telling him he's in the back yard or the other room is a lie that he'll surely see right through.  I realize right then and there how much I suck at this and I want out - NOW!  

Then the doorbell rings (I'm immediately thinking DISTRACTION - surely this must be a tag team con of sorts).   I ignore the doorbell and instead watch him for any sudden movement or attempt to swipe something while I'm looking the other way.   

Then the phone rings.  What on earth is going on here?!?  "You can get that" he says - UH, NO!  I'm not an idiot.  (Believe it or not...)  I was very uncomfortable at that point and feeling duped and dumb and unsafe so I hurried him back outside where the door thankfully separated us again and I comfortably resumed control.  Ugh!  

Why do I get myself into these situations?  Why do I not see these things coming before they smack me in the head?  How can I be so naive and dumb?  

He seemed safe enough at the beginning.  A young kid, clean cut and well mannered.  And once he was safely back outside on the other side of my locked door, he resumed that unthreatening status, but it left me horribly shaken.  How could I be so stupid?!?!  Why am I so darn gullible!?!?  Worse yet, why am I forced to feel this way in today's society?!?  I am obviously NOT cut out to live in this evil world.  I fall into these traps constantly.  My need to fit in, people-please, and be the polite and well-mannered person my parents raised me to be is not working out well for me.  But being short and mean and assertive is not in me (even when my safety and that of my kids is at stake - how ridiculous is that?!?!).

In retrospect I realize I could have totally been taken advantage of.  The situation could have gone very bad very quickly.  Looking back now I worry that he was scoping my house to come back later...and what's worse is that now he knows that I'm alone.  Great!!

As soon as he (finally!) took no for an answer, I watched him walk away up the street and then proceeded to lock all my doors and windows and set my Brinks alarm.  Ugh.  I am just not good at this.  My husband would KILL me for being so dumb.  He'd tell me a thousand different ways how I was lacking judgement and setting the scene for disaster (and he did tell me that numerous times, ultimately!).  I KNOW that.  I just don't know how to avoid it.  I trust everyone.  I give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  However, in a matter of seconds, trust and comfort becomes panic when I'm suddenly in over my head and the vibe instantly changes.  By then it could be too late.  It's scary.  It's frustrating, and it's disheartening.  Why do we live in a society where I can't be who I am and be trusting and nice without risking my safety or jeopardizing my well being.  I've never felt so alone.  I feel like I'm a minority in a world that's set out to take advantage of people like me.  If this is indeed survival of the fittest, I'm screwed.