Shame, Shame, I Know Your Name

As a child, I was conditioned to think that being a girl was almost like being a lesser human.

I grew up with three older brothers who were the epitome of men.  They skateboarded, played in the woods til dark, they smoked, drank with their friends, always had girl friends, they played football, basketball, and baseball, they went off to college, and traveled the world.

When I came along, I was, of course, dressed in head-to-toe pink, which I soon came do despise.  My brothers criticized me for being a girl so I dressed down, got dirty, and became one of the boys (with the exception that I cried a lot!). 

I had to play baseball like my brothers, throw a football like my brothers, I stopped dressing like a little girl, and could be regularly found myself in an over-sized t-shirt, jeans, and a ball cap.

And I never saw limitations, but they were often times thrown in my face!

A spider would crawl on me and I would scream.  What a sissy!

I would throw the ball half the distance as my brother who was four years older than me. You throw like a girl.

I took a baseball to the eye and would cry. Man up. Quit crying like a little girl!

I could sit here and list all of the now horrifying things I heard then, but you get my drift.

Heading into high school with a body that as turning into a woman no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I found myself lost in a sea of girls who definitely owned their femininity.  I had no idea what femininity even was.  I had spent the better part of 15 years trying to be one of my brothers, that I didn't even know how to be a girl.

When I made the varsity dance team, I remember the girls laughing because I had no idea how to wear makeup.  They would put it on for me because I didn't know how. You're such a disaster.  Even looking back to my senior pictures, I was wearing zero makeup, while my friends looked like they had Glamour Shots.

I had my daughter two years after high school.  At this point I had obviously recognized some of my femininity, but not all of it. I am not sure I know now what it is all about, but I am learning.

My daughter is a whole package of things I am not, mixed in with a handful of things that are just like me. 

She is only in 8th grade and wears a pretty fair amount of makeup.  Not every day, but a good number of them.

She dresses to show off her femininity. She loves to match and show off her athletic & thin body.

She plays sports, and gets dirty, but she also takes care of her appearance even in uniform.

She never has a day where she looks like she hasn't tried to put her appearance together.

She squees at bugs and spiders.

She cries when she hurts.



But what astounds me most, is even as a dancer, a softball player, a theater tech kid, a choir singer, a track runner, an honors student, and an art aficionado, she still gets made fun of for being a girl.  Her cousins poke fun if she doesn't hit their 55 mph baseball; she can hit the hell out of a 60 mph softball. They tell her anyone can play softball when you swing a bat at a grapefruit.  Its just a ribbing. All in good fun, right?  We take it with a grain of salt, but what is so wrong with playing like a girl?  I know some fine female athletes!  Some are dear friend, while some of whom I have had the privilege of coaching for the last 2 years.  Not one of them makes me giggle or laugh at how girly they are or how they throw or how they catch.  It makes



When did "being a girl" become such a bad thing? And who is still teaching their children that women aren't as capable as men are?  Humanity wouldn't even be here if it weren't for our ability to create life inside of us.  Giving birth is one of the most incredible and painful feats the human body could ever experience, yet we are still considered weak. Is it because we nurture? Or because we are inherently kind?  I haven't figured it out.


And then there is the way that women treat other women.  Judging their legging choices or hairstyles. Did you see her outfit today? or I cannot believe she would wear something like that!  When we should be commending bravery to take on bold style choices or complimenting her confidence instead of saying "What was she thinking?" or "She is way too fat to wear that!"  I work in an office filled with women who constantly cut each other for their style decisions and I find it sad that we are so concerned with other people's appearances.
But the 30, 40, and 50 year old women do not concern me even a fraction of as much as it concerns me when I hear teenagers doing to each other.  Most of the time, they aren't slamming other girls, but they are wishing they were thinner, or taller, or had so-and-so's legs, or what's-her-name's hair.  What they have been given isn't good enough for them. And I can't help but think it has so much to do with how we, their mothers, were conditioned as children.

Women should look a certain way. I have never looked that way.
Women should speak a certain way. I use expletives in most sentences.
Women should always sweet and nurturing. I am kind, but I am rarely sweet.
Women shouldn't be loud or vulgar.  I am not sure that I have been anything but loud since birth.
Women should raise the children. Can't we raise our children and be bread-winners?

This random list of five "should" sentences are not even a fraction of the things women are expected to be.  We couldn't possibly live up to all of the world's expectations.  Especially when majority of the population over 60 years old, comes from an era where women were inferior to men - on the ball field, in the workplace, and especially at home.



Everywhere I turn my friends and family are saying to stop judging for religion, stop judging for sexuality, stop judging for political decisions, but then we all judge each other on things like a hairdo or a cleavage-y top or ugly sneakers as if those decisions are the ones which define us; they are not.


If it doesn't affect you waking up each day, being successful, providing for your family, bettering yourself, the health and welfare of your family, and going to bed each night, then please, by all means, shut up.

Fire and Ice

In this life, I was given the gift of independence. A word that is very important to me for a great many reasons, if you know me well.

I can remember not feeling very independent. I used to rely heavily on others to make me happy; bending over backward to please those around me.  I wasn't an actual person with a legitimate personality of substance.  I may have been entertaining to be around or a butt of jokes, but I wasn't actually me.

I was in therapy for the entirety of my teenage years, and in therapy I was given a book about co-dependence.  And while I wasn't dependent on drugs or alcohol, I was dependent on others to create my happiness.  The book listed ways you could be co-dependent and I wrote down every single one that I resonated with.
And then I changed every single item I wrote down.
The book literally changed me.

As a woman who has been broken down about as much as a person can be, I have learned even more exactly what it means to me to be independent and strong.
Until I was told to dial it back.

Every day for the last near fourteen years, I have battled with myself to balance motherhood and fatherhood in the most gentle of ways.  I do not always excel at either and ofttimes find that fatherhood comes easier to me than motherhood.  I am tough, I fight, I am hard, I am no nonsense, and I don't give in almost ever.  And this is not just as a parent, but as a friend and even a lover.  I cannot exactly pin-point the reasoning as to why I am as impenetrable as I am, but I do know that it has cost me a lot in my life.

Tonight, I was told in the most respectful of ways, that my daughter needs me to be her mother.  It was quite difficult to hear because I immediately became defensive.  But that friend was right.  I need to be what a "mother" embodies. Care, concern, softness, delicacy, and tenderness are qualities I have suppressed for a long time.  While I do care, have concern, have moments of tenderness, I do not often exude those qualities.

But when I was reminded tonight that I need to incorporate other traits into my current palate, I was disconcerted. I usually pride myself on my intelligence, but I can't even recognize my lack of empathy for my child.

So I will begin, again, to challenge myself and try to round out some of my square edges.  To take a stab at becoming more warm and less frigid.  I do not want to shape my daughter into a version of me, she should be herself. But I want her to take the best of me: my kindness, independence, and wit, yet blend it with her own tenderness, effervescence, and intellect.  She is growing so fast and I need to be sure I show her the world from all angles.

To Give Love.

Grief is brutal.

Monday night I found myself laying in bed, sobbing all over the pages of my journal which I was finding myself hard-pressed to write in, with wads of Kleenex strewn everywhere, and the prayer card with my dead friend's face looming in the candlelight.  I was setting myself up for this misery, but I couldn't help it.  I kept thinking about the would have/could have/should have situations that we all punish ourselves with when something doesn't go the way we'd hoped.  I couldn't shake myself out of it which is unlike me.  Usually I can fight my own brain with logic and win!  I can tell myself I am being ridiculous and go run outside or drag myself to the shower to shake off the bad vibes. Monday night won the battle - and I broke.

My head was filled with regret and disdain.  I should have reached out to my friend sooner. I should have been a better friend over all.  I wasn't.  I was MaryAnne the Recluse.  I pushed myself away from my friend as I did with most of the relationships in my life. Its easier that way right?  Oh was I so wrong.  Instead of feeling detached and callous, I felt ruined.

There have been upwards of 3 trillion times that I have passed by a name in my phone or just hit like on FaceBook and never stopped for a minute to say "Hi."  And not "How are you?" No one cares about that; most people deliver a generic response anyway.  Sometimes I think, oh, I should text him/her - and never do.
With my friend that passed away, it was his birthday two weeks before he died.  I saw it come up on my notifications, eventhough I have always remembered his birthday, and I said "I am going to text him. Not message him on FaceBook." And then I forgot.
Today I am filled with so much sadness about it.
I wish I could have told my friend that I loved him one more time.

Tonight, I text 30 people that I don't text or speak to on a regular basis.
 Some not even at all. I simply put it in to the universe that I was thinking about them, I missed them, or I loved them. In some cases, it was all three.  I was legitimately thinking of most of them.  I have been all week.  But I really just needed to tell some people in my life that I care about them.  Caring for people comes easy to me; however, telling people I care does not.

I had three people respond with a "Thank you. I needed that tonight."  Each of those three responses brought me to tears.  I couldn't help but think of my friend and if maybe he would have needed something like that. I am glad, though, that I, in my small insignificant text, can mean something to someone.

No one didn't respond.

Most people replied back right way.  Telling me they loved me too or missed me.  A few wanted to get together.  A few wanted to catch up right then with foot-long texts back and forth. It was so nice to catch up and make plans; To give love out and to receive it right back.


Normally when I grieve, I want to push everyone away, build a blanket fort, and watch Little Women or Anne of Green Gables and be alone.  This time has been severely different. I don't know why Brandon's death has made this impact on me, but I am glad I was able to reach out to some people that I truly care for and tell them I love them or I miss them.


And I will do it again. Because it has to be done.

Rubber Soul, Broken Heart

"There are places I remember, all my life though some have changed.
Some forever not for better; Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments with lovers and friends, I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living.  In my life, I've loved them all."

Some people listen to music for the beat.  I have never been one of those people.  I have always listened to music to hear the poetry in the lyrics.  Each word a piece of a story that would capture me.  I used to sit at my cassette player with a notepad for hours, pressing play/stop/rewind over and over to learn lyrics. I had notepads full of different song lyrics that spoke to me and made me feel.  Music was never about tapping my toes or swaying to the beat, it was a language that I understood on a different level than other people.

The first album I wore into oblivion was The Beatles Rubber Soul.  I can remember rifling through my brother's cassettes and seeing this one.  Having heard most of the songs many times due to the wonderful musical education of my mom and dad, I listened so intently. Scribbling every lyric and thinking my life had some connection to the words.  Hands down, my favorite Beatles song is "In My Life." And playing Rubber Soul upwards of a thousand times helped to solidify that.  I cannot hear it today without nostalgia soaring through me and my eyes welling with tears.

To this day, I still connect moments of my life to songs.  I can't remember what I did yesterday or the day before, but I can remember 3 months ago sitting on a bench in the rain with my best friend listening to Sara Bareilles "She Used To Be Mine."  I can remember driving to Lansing to an Army base listening to Eminem's Marshall Mather's LP, rapping our brains out and thinking we were invincible. Or driving to a deli in Miami, Florida with a childhood friend while her dad played Jay and The Americans; I can still remember every word.  Sitting in a bowling alley parking lot while OneRepublic's "Stop and Stare" came on.  Or reading the lyrics to my therapist of Bob Dylan's To Make You Feel My Love when I was 15 and thought my love for a boy was endless. Or even the first time I heard City and Colour, which is now one of my all-time favorite artists. Music has left it's mark on so many moments.
Music is so much more than something to listen to for me.  Music is the basis of my existence and is behind every single thing I have done.  It speaks to me in ways I cannot explain and it makes me feel...well... everything.  Do I drum to the beat of songs? Sure. I also sing them, harmonize them, and do background vocals.  I adore music for all it has to offer.

So now I will circle back to my story about The Beatles:

A friend of mine and I tried dating for a while.  We flirted a lot at work and one day he finally asked me out.  We didn't date very long as we were in very different places in our life, but we never held our failed relationship against each other.  I was I was 26 with a 6 year old at home and he was 22 and living the life that most 22-year olds live: wild abandon.  We didn't have a lot in common in regard to life and leisure, but what we lacked in commonality, we made up for in a general respect for each other.

One night, after working a seemingly endless shift, we decided to sit in the empty parking lot at our work for a while and just talk.  We smoked cigarettes and played loud music. And then a song came on: In My Life.  He reached over and grabbed my hand, "This is one of the ultimates right here." I recognized the look on his face, which took him to another place, because when I heard the song, it did the same to me. We had both been through a lot in our lives, but in many different ways.  Yet somehow, this song brought us together.  He proceeded after to play Don McLean's American Pie and tell me how much that song meant to him as well.  Another night I will never forget.

My friend passed away yesterday.  And as I sift through the emotions I cannot fully understand, I have to listen to the song that takes me back to that night in his car in the Lowe's parking lot.  While life was still moving outside, life inside that car slowed as we enjoyed a wonderful song.  I will always love my friend for giving me a nickname I adored, for keeping me from fighting a girl at a party one drunken night, for giving me awful Valentine's Day memories, for understanding my love of music, and for always being himself around me.

"Though I know I'll never lose affection for people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them.
In my life, I love you more."

My 2015

'Tis that time for reflection again, and whilst I like to reflect after each event happens, I figure I would give a more general account here.


1) I grew some roots.

I am 18 months in to this job and it feels like I have been there for 10 years and it is still my first day wrapped in one.  I was promoted in May, now it is December, and I have hardly ever done the same thing twice; therefore, I retain next to nothing, but I seem to be pretty decent at it so onward we go. I look forward to coming into work (most days) and my co-workers and I seem to have quite a bit of fun together.  They are one of the best and most cohesive groups of people I have ever met.  They want me to step ahead and start solidifying my future there, so I suppose that is in the cards for me for 2016.  Series 7 or bust? 


2) I remembered how horrendous Junior High could be.

My girl, Lou, has had one hell of a year.  At first I wasn't sure if I was going to pull her out of her current school.  The lack of attention by administrators was disheartening, her friends were rotten, bullying was running rampant, and my heart was breaking.  I would come home from work and go directly to school, so I was seeing less of her.  But when I would come home after a 15-hour day and find her in bed, defeated, and crying, I wasn't sure where our road would take us at all.  I would sit at my desk at work and weep for her.  Knowing that from two cities away I couldn't rescue her on demand or save her from one of the worst rites of passage.  If I remember anything from Junior High at all, it was that it was one of the worst times I ever had.  And this, for me, was the whole of 7th grade.  Friends abandoned me, new friends came and went, I had to drop classes due to bullying, I stopped showering for a few months (uhm, ew!). Junior High was a disaster!  Yet here I am doing it all over again. You want to know what my sage advice was? I'm sorry, but "we all have to go through the horrible to not only find respect for ourselves but respect for the things we want most."
I can't go into school and beat children up for you.
I can't kick down every mother's door and tell them to parent better.  Maybe they work and go to school, too?
We only have 6 months left and then it is off to high school *barf* where the bullying and judgement from friends is on steroids, but I am sure after all this we will be fine.

My girl has a thickness to her skin now, that she will use going forward.  She sees people differently.  She understands more clearly that a lot of people are rotten, but the good ones are worth holding tighter.


3)  I graduated.
When I was pregnant with my daughter and about a year after I had her, I had been taking a class here and a class there.  Never with any real intention to go on and become a scientist or a sonographer or a journalist.  In 2004, I chose work over school.  For the next nine years, I would choose raising a well-rounded child who wanted for nothing over going to school. I would always say "When she needs me less, I will go back."  Getting fired from Lowes gave me that gift.  I suddenly had a surplus of time on my hands and was able to enroll back in school full time for two semesters, which got a large portion of my credits out of the way.  When my year of unemployment was over, I went back to working full-time, being a parent 365 days a year, coached softball, and also went to school 2 or 3 nights a week.  My kid could finally stay home alone, where necessary, and I was in a place in my life where I was able to juggle many tasks at once.  It all just worked.  3 years later, I graduated with honors.  Role model? Check.

Oh and with no tutor, pulled off an A and then a B+ in Algebra.


4) My big brother got married and I was his best man?

Toes in the sand and one beautiful sunrise.

After a half a dozen Xanex, one book, and two boxes of Good N' Plentys, we finally settled into our ocean-front resort hotel in beautiful Virginia Beach.  My brother, at 39 years old finally was able to say his vows to the woman of his dreams and the whole family got to be there for it.  I had been asked to be the best man and I loved every minute of it (with the exception of the Bachelors Party; being the only girl kinda sucked!)!  Either way, I prepared a wonderful speech, we took lots of freezing cold pictures on the beach, and we celebrated with total strangers the way families do. 



 

Guys and girls on both sides.  Beautiful new family and friends. <3

 Everything was right out of a fairy tale.  The dress was to die for, the food was wonderful, the people were fantastic, the DJ wasn't awful. The weather was crappy that day and we had to shiver outside, but amidst the cold I got to witness two people who make each other incandescently happy. 

We went to Jamestown and Washington DC afterward.  I rode the subway for my first time. I ate at a food truck for my first time.  I went to Arlington for my first time.  I got lost on the DC Highway system for the first... and then second time.  My 6th trip to Virginia Beach (and elsewhere) proved to be a lovely adventure.


5) My Bird and I went on some new adventures.

I don't have a spouse or even a significant other.  I haven't actually been in a relationship in many years now, but what I have been missing in companionship with a spouse, I find (for the most part) with my Bird.  We coexist in perfect harmony.  We don't often yell, we do what the other expects, we like most of the same things, we use a lot of the same products, and we share this innate longing for adventure.  I live and breath for taking in new sights and sounds; my girl shares my affinity for life in that same special way.  I don't have to explain to her why things are the way they are, why we just went to this new place, or why I am silent or why I am crying - she just gets it.  13 years of someone every single day will get you that way I suppose. 

My girl and my man!

This year, we adventured to Traverse City, Glenn Arbor, Ann Arbor, Virginia Beach, Arlington, and Sarnia, Ontario.  Each adventure was different and each adventure left us with unmistakable and unforgettable memories.

To my Bird, I dedicate a song that is as beautiful as you are.  Songbird


6) I found forgiveness.

I am not a fan of forgiveness or any of the feelings that come along with it.  I find it stressfull and my breath quickens just thinking about having to forgive someone when they were wrong. Hell, even if I was wrong.  I don't believe you should be "let off the hook" for a great many things, but then I guess I should decide whether I would like to be the pot or the kettle. 
This year, I forgave one of my biggest offenders for their past transgressions.
I even thanked them for being a part of my life and contributing what they did while they were in it.
As cliché as it sounds, I slept better that night.  I think I will always sleep a little better knowing that weight is gone forever.


7) I fell in love with some music.
For whatever reason I never fell in love with The Lumineers at the start; however, in 2015, they became a part of my soul.  Yes, The Lumineers are a horcrux.
The song She Used to Be Mine by Sara Bareilles was like opening a window into my own soul.  I know it is from the musical, The Waitress, but it is so MaryAnne and it moves me.  I hear it and I have to sing, but then my voice cracks and my eyes water. Ugh. Love.




If you care, here are my favorites from this year (whether they are actually from this year, I don't care):
Sara Bareilles - She Used to Be Mine
Gregory Alan Isakov - That Moon Song
The Lumineers - Slow It Down
Sam Smith - The Writing's On the Wall
James Bay - Let It Go
Hello - Adele
Like Real People Do - Hozier




2015 was really quiet in all the ways that matter.  There was loss and heartache like every year before, but there was also growth and understanding.  There were moments where I went a wee bit crazy, but there were moments where I found peace, too. 




I am hoping 2016 can exhibit more growth and solace.  I am looking forward to learning more and going on even cooler adventures than before.  I am looking to get out of my comfort-zone a little (high school, wahhhhh!), and I am anticipating finding out more about what I want and need from life. So bring it on 2016.  Universe, I am ready for you.







Slightly less...

Over not any one in particular, but everyone as a whole.  And not for any one particular reason, but maybe for every reason combined.

I used to have some pretty selfish friends, then I had some boyfriends who cheated, and then it was feeling ostracized from my friends whom I had little-to-nothing in common with.  While my friends hung out at bars and met people, found new friends, went new places, I stayed home, alone, with my child.  While my friends moved forward in life, got married, began to have their own children, I continued to push myself further and further away from the human race.  After all, pushing away is what I do best.

After a while I realized that when I am in a relationship, I am toxic anyway.  And not just my significant other, but even, sometimes, with friends.  Perhaps it is a great number of years of my "friends" using me, betraying me, or leaving; same as my significant other.  I never devote myself to anyone anymore.  I used to be that friend that came running for any reason, but now you can't rely using me in that way.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, "I'm broken."  It is so much further beyond that now.  Whereas I once was broken, now I am conditioned to have no feelings at all.  Still being betrayed and hurt by the people I love, yet no longer standing up for myself and pushing you away, just letting it happen and being abused. All the while, my attitude is quite callous.

In the past month, I have seen some kind of... reflection... of myself.  Like an out of body experience?  I have been hearing people talk about things of concern and where others console and are "there for people."  I am not.  I even think, "I should say something nice, but I really really don't care."  When people talk about their newest whatever, I feel more inclined to leave the room than I do to stay and listen.  And I know this is so wrong.

This is not to say I do not do kind things.  That I do not hold the door for people, because I do.  That I do not feed the homeless, because I do.  That I do not donate money to the abandoned pet center in my area, because I do.  Or even have two cats that I'd prefer not to have whom one of has been ill for the better part of 3 years, but I keep him and pet him and love him. Even though I say I don't. This is not to say that I don't do kind, nice, thoughtful, and considerate things, because I do.
But somewhere deep inside. Somewhere in my heart of hearts, I am not sure if I can be repaired anymore.  I am not sure if my too-rational thinking and unfailing ability to reason everything can ever overcome what is in going on inside of me.

So instead of making a bunch of New Years Resolutions about how I am going to get in shape or use Facebook less (which I fully intend to do as a part of a new life resolution), I plan to work more on MaryAnne.  Learning to stand up for myself in appropriate ways, trying not to use my words as a scare tactic that really works well, attempting to say the kind things I think, but can't bring myself to utter.

Does this mean I am changing? No. Not yet.
What it does mean is that I would like to be slightly less broken than I am currently.

Slip Through Your Fingers

I find it hard to believe that destiny is carved out for us.  That each decision we make was predetermined and our fate was decided before we even make those choices. Doesn't that quite ruin the notion of free will and the entirety of the decision-making process?

I would like to think that the decisions I have made for myself were my own and not charted out somewhere in the stars while some deity sits back and says "Yep, she is par for the course."

I was supposed to go to college straight out of high school.
I was supposed to be 19, wild, and free.  I was supposed to be 21 and go to bars and have little-to-no responsibility.
I was supposed to be married after my 2, then 3, then 4 year engagement.
I was supposed to live and die in retail.
I was supposed to write children's literature professionally.
I was supposed to move to California.
I was supposed to go see Europe and never come back.
I was supposed to have between two and four children, because I always imagined myself with a nice-sized family.

None of my plans have happened.  A lot of other people's plans happened.  But my plans took a shit.

I have now been a student since January 2013 consistently.
Three non-stop years of a life of total chaos.
The plan wasn't to work for 15 years after high school, then go to college.
The plan wasn't to have a child at 19 by myself.
The plan was not to be single for a decade.
The plan was not to buy a house and live in it alone (okay, minus the dog and cats).
So is this the real plan?  Is this what "destiny" set out for me?
A general malaise of real plans and hey, you get what's left over?

I am feeling quite whiny and pathetic right now.  It is finals week so perhaps it is my disdain for all things having to do with a thought process.
The gears are whirring and I am pretty sure you can see smoke.

I am tired of being tested. I am tired of my ideas not even being taken into consideration.