Wonder Why

Every single day someone tells me how strange I am.
And if they don't say it, they give me "the eye" that says everything.
Fifteen years ago I may have developed a complex about it.
Today I just wonder what makes people think that my own behaviors are strange, but their own are perfectly acceptable.

Here is an example of how the conversations usually go:

"I went to Belle Isle over the weekend."
"Oh, I have never been there before."
"Do you live under a rock?"
"No, I just don't go to Belle Isle."
"Man, you are different aren't you?"

or

"Ooo, did someone bring in those cookies? That's gonna be hard to sit next to."
"No, I don't care for cookies."
"Is something wrong with you?"
"I don't like pie or cake either so I suppose there is."
"Sheesh...."

or even

"What are you doing this weekend?"
"Homework and then I intend to finish the book I am reading."
"You should probably do activities with other human beings rather than hit your GoodReads yearly goal."
"That would require me to leave the comfort of my house, put on real clothes, and NOT be snuggled up with my dog."
"Aaaand you wonder why you are single."
"I don't wonder. I know exactly why."

People astound me really.  Their judgement on my lifestyle is incredible. 
They ask me a question yet the answer is insufficient. 
Was there some other way I am supposed to answer? Something you would like me to say?

"Oh, this weekend.  I am going downtown in a party bus, going to see Wicked, and then get dinner in Greek Town."

As if catching a show and getting dinner (not to mention spending a couple hundred dollars) is superior to the exercise of my brain or the expansion of my vocabulary plus quality time with my daughter.  Don't get me wrong, I love theatre, but how is one person's activities any better than the next persons? I am not shooting up heroine. I am not getting hammered at the bar. I am not out sleeping with random people.  I am simply taking care of my house (which I love), reading books (which I love), and spending time with my daughter and my animals (which I love most of all). 
I see nothing wrong with my lifestyle.

Yet every day - it never fails - someone will ask me a question to which the answer is unsatisfactory.

I am a huge fan of the simple life.
Having a daughter at 19 stunted my ability to have a wild life, and honestly, after seeing the debauchery that my friends ensued, I am good without all of "that" being in my past.  I have no place for any of that in my life.

I also do not have room in my life for people who try to make me feel bad. So if you are one of those people, allow me to say sayonara to you now.

For those of you who support me and love me for the recluse that I am, thank you. I appreciate you. I don't even have to tell you that for you to know, but sometimes it is nice to hear.

Oh Canada.

This world has gone absolutely crazy. 

Every day it is something new and absurd and mystifying.   From scaling the White House fence (twice in a month) to the disappearance of 43 students in Mexico, or even shooting guards in the Capitol in Canada - it is always something new.  Terrorists posing threats, U.S. administering air-strikes on ISIS, deadly viruses sneaking their way from country to country, Russia being...well... Russia.  Everywhere seems to have something completely insane going on.  Maybe I am paying closer attention, but I don't think so.  I have listened to NPR every morning for two years.  I have never felt this anxious about "what is next?"

My complaints are small on the grand scale.  I whine that I don't make enough money or that I work multiple jobs and am still broke.  I complain that I want to make more of this life than I have already. Sometimes I forget the important things.  Sometimes I forget that something as simple as standing in the sun and feeling the warmth on my face is enough.  That breathing my lungs full of air and making myself feel refreshed and revived is satisfying.  I don't really need more than I am actually given.

Yesterday I got to make so many memories.  Alanna and I traveled to a new place and saw old things. We climbed the side of a flood plain and stuck our hands in natural clay that is 400 millions years old.
We ruined our shoes and got mud everywhere.
We peed in a stream - and on my sunglasses when they fell in.
We climbed a sand dune until our legs felt like jelly. Then we tumbled down the other side.
I had a very large spider run across my foot.
We ate Canadian White Cheddar popcorn which was somehow better than the American version.
We listened to a French radio station and pretended to sing-a-long like we knew the words.
We found nuggets of pyrite on the shore of Lake Huron on an Indian Reservation.
I never used my phone other than to take a few pictures.
I fell in love with nature.
I spent time with my girl.
I gave myself a break from the craziness of every day and found a little piece of peace.

This will happen more often because I will it so.

I am glad for my little moments, because they get to become great big moments... eventually.

My Birthday Reminder

Sometimes life gives us little reminders at the most perfect moments.

Today my reminder came in the form of a phone call.

My daughter's school called to inform me that my daughter was involved in an incident with a male student.  While in science class, he used his rubber glove to smack her ass. Twice.  After she asked him to stop the first time.  Once class ended she reported it to her counselor.  

If you think that is harsh then you are a moron.  My daughter is brave for not putting up with that kind of nonsense.  

The school counselor called to relay the incident to me and to commend Alanna for being wise enough to know that it needed to be reported.  I explained to the counselor that we have been having discussions on "proper behavior" a lot recently.  How boys at 12-years old act a lot more sexual than girls at 12-years old and they will do all kinds of things to get their kicks in.

Like "You can't leave til you give me a hug..."  I remember those hugs.  They were a cheap thrill for the boys to feel your boobs up against them.
Alanna had to give 4 different hugs out this past weekend. She knows now what that is all about. 

And then came my birthday present:

While I am paraphrasing, it went like something to the effect of "You are doing something right with your daughter." and "Kids just don't report things anymore and half the time we don't know when things like this happen."  and "The fact that your daughter still talks to you speaks volumes about what an amazing job you are doing with her. Most kids at 12 have stopped telling their parents things."  An amazing job.  On my own. Wow.

I was stunned.  And smiling.  My daughter had been sexually harassed and I knew she would have reacted perfectly.  I know because she doesn't take shit from men.
She has twice threatened the life of boys who have messed with her.  

I know when it comes to her heart, one day she will be the perfect amount of guarded and naive.  She will know exactly what she wants and how to obtain it.

I often hear people say that "broken kids come from broken homes" and that "a kid cannot be completely well raised by a single parent." Well fuck you to all those people.
My straight-A student has one of the best heads on her shoulders I have ever known. She is the perfect amount of funny, beautiful, wise, and temperamental to make her a dangerous force to be reckoned with one day.

My girl on her 12th birthday, heading off to school!

And at 32 years old, she has given me one hell of a compliment.

I Keep On

I keep on making it worse for myself.  If I doubt, I fear, and I wonder all too much for my own good.

Every single time I think I am strong enough to let go, I am swallowed back up again. Devoured.
And not only do I drown but my chest heaves with the inability to breathe right.

This bed still so warm.
My pillow still dappled with his scent.
My eyes sparkling with tears of years lost.
My lips still tingling from missing kisses.

My head spins, my heart doesn't understand.
How have I become so unfortunate.

Right Here! Direct from the Lamp!

It always takes a random death or shake up for people to remember what a terror depression is, but as soon as the fray begins to fade, people forget that there are still a large number of us who deal with depression every single day.  That there are still a large number of us who have been affected by depression's wrath, and our lives -while potentially decent now- have been altered eternally.

I've been at my new place of employment for a whopping 4 1/2 months people say to me all the time things like: "You are always so happy." or "Do you ever stop smiling?"
They are mostly right. I am always pretty happy and I do smile more than most people.  I even laugh so often that my abs are sore when I come home from work, but no one knows that I struggle with depression.  No one knows that every day I fight demons that I cannot escape - no matter how hard I try. 

We all fight demons. We all figure our shit out differently than the next guy - some of us never actually figure it out.  Some of us cannot deal with what we are dealt.  I usually have an okay time with my demons; they each have names and places where I keep them, but not everyone is so fortunate.

Perspective is the hardest thing to keep with us every day.  It isn't something we set on an alarm and at 12:30 every afternoon we are reminded to keep ourselves in check and to quit being so judgmental or harsh.  It isn't something we can put in our wallets and when we go to the store the cashier will ask "Do you have your Perspective Rewards card today?"  Perspective is one of those unsung heroes that rescues us sometimes when we least expect it.  Like during the tragic loss of Genie.  :(

I have always considered myself lucky to be someone who suffers from depression.  And not because I like the looming gray cloud over my head, but because it reminds me to keep my perspective in check.  It reminds me to appreciate a really good day.  It reminds me that when I have anger or hate in my heart that maybe someone else is suffering too and I should just let it go.

Yes, sometimes it takes someone else's tragedy to shake me back into reality for a moment, but when it takes my perspective to a whetstone and sharpens it up, I can be nothing but grateful. I suppose perspective is my phenomenal cosmic power. 

I will miss Robin Williams for a great many reasons.  At 31, I got to be alive for the heart and soul of that man's career.  He will forever be my Genie of the Lamp.

Right here direct from the lamp.  

Right here for my very much wish fulfillment. RIP Robin Williams.  My Genie.

Everything & More

When you are four until you are eighteen you are constantly asked: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

 At 31, I suppose people think you have your shit together. As if you should have decided what to be for the rest of your life.  Most people decide in high school or their first years of college what they want to do for the rest of their lives.  I feel bad for those people.  I have no desire to do one thing, in one attitude, for the rest of my working life.  Every single aptitude test I have taken in the last 5 years has come up inconclusive. Even the acclaimed Myers-Briggs test - that men & women put on their online dating profiles: ISFJ or whatever.  I was every single letter at a complete 50/50 split. 

Then I took a 2-credit college course that is designed to guide you toward your career path.  The course was a complete waste of time for me.  I left more confused than had I not taken the class.

So I came to my own conclusion: I want to do everything!

I want to help people and rescue animals. I want to see things I have never seen before, and do something that makes my anxiety on the verge of overload.  I want to be a teacher, a writer, an editor, a coach, a waitress, a secretary; an unlimited number of things- just because, well... I can.  I don't understand the limitations people set for themselves.  Or why they choose a career based on a paycheck rather than their own happiness. 

Of course, money is the "bff" of happiness in most instances, but realistically, I don't want my 9-5 to be so miserable that I have to drink when I get home or take it out on my kids or spouse.   I want to wake up each day and not only love what I do, but live for what I do.  And for me, there are not boundaries to what that contains.  Yes, I am in school for Journalism and Political Science, but does that mean those two aspects of my degree will define me?  Absolutely not, thankyouverymuch!

Maybe all of this makes me naive.  Or flippant.  Or even a bit flaky, but I honestly don't know that those things concern me.  If at the end of the day I can lay my head on my pillow and know that I am doing what I love, then what else is there?

Shoulder Jousting

I am currently at a mental standstill. Like when you get on the teeter-totter and your weight is the same on both sides. Neither of you can go up or down, yet your feet have lifted off the ground.  You just kind of sit there... in limbo.

I have a cartoon angel and devil sitting on each of my shoulders coaxing me into and out of a not-so-fun dilemma.  I can only consider myself completely human when I listen more intently to the devil.  He just has way better tips for being a bitch.  The angel is way too nice and wont do me any favors at the end of the day.

While I would love to indulge those of you who actually read this babble with the details of the said "dilemma," I cannot.  It wouldn't be appropriate to reveal intimate secrets on the internet.  I am a way classier girl than that.  At least I try to be.

What I can say is that I have made so many choices for my daughter that have only partially benefitted me, but were always with her best interests at heart.  I didn't neglect her certain things in this life to make her suffer or to rub it in other people's faces.  I did what I did, because it is what is best for her and I. 
I get to say "her and I" because this is a team effort. This life consists solely of her and I.  We have been doing it alone -together- for over 2/3 of her life. I am sorry if I think about her and not you.

People always think they know better than me what is best for the life I have created.  Most people lead incredibly selfish lives and don't stop to think that different people are in different situations. Or that while they might struggle, someone else's struggle is completely different - eventho they could be like a distant cousin.

I guess that what I mean most of all is that, while I listen to this battle of epic proportions going on atop my shoulders day in and day out, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much for people to take a step back, close their mouths, and stop judging me and my choices. 
I try my very best not to judge your decisions and your misgivings - knowing all good and well that you, too, have your fair share of cartoonistic spirits goading you into troublesome dealings.  Lord knows, it is quite a feat.