Sunday, September 11, 2016

15 years

Every year on 9/11 I struggle with my ability to express the feelings that I have on this day. Every year I think about what happened in the days following that godawful morning. I can't believe that it has been 15 years. And I cannot believe what we, as a nation, have become in that time. In the weeks that followed 9/11/2001 I was so proud of the love and unity that we all felt and shared. It was breathtaking. 

In the span of 15 years, our society has changed dramatically. And that was foreseeable. When I spoke with my mother on the phone that morning, she told me that our lives would never be the same again. I knew that she was right, but I didn't see the path that we would traverse. I didn't see that our unity would turn into something so deeply ugly; So full of suspicion and hate for people who merely resemble the ones who did this to us. I didn't foresee the division that would occur amongst our citizens, who had so thoroughly come together and loved one another in their grief in the aftermath. I should have, and I'm sure that some did. I'm sure that many knew that our leaders would gain advantage from the situation. That it would be twisted for their own purposes, and that so many of us would fall in line with their rhetoric and do their dirty jobs for them. I had no idea that these terrorists would win so spectacularly.  And they have. They have won. Like a playground bully who has egged you on until you lose your cool and just start beating the crap out of him. You may win the fight, but you're never the same. We are never going to be the same. For better AND for worse. 

So on the 15th anniversary of this unfathomable tragedy, I encourage you to join me in extending love to those with whom you disagree. Let them know that their politics or religion do not define them for you. That, deep down, we are all human. I really believe that the future of our country and our children depends on this small, yet very important concept. 

Wednesday, August 3, 2016


I want to inscribe an image onto your mind.
Placing the words, with a #2's precision,
On the surface of your psyche. 
Witness it's slow absorption into your consciousness. 

I'd like to breathe words into the emptiness of the hard morning air 
before the sun burns the chill from the streets and millions begin the day across the city. 

I want to hum a melody to entrance you. 
One that will slide it's way into the crevices of your mind, 
on a string of repeating notes and syllables.  

But I am paralyzed by the threat of failure
And sleep overtakes me far too easily instead. 

Monday, August 1, 2016

I Am A Mother

I am a mother. 

That really eclipses most everything else about me. Should it? No, not necessarily. It does, nonetheless. 

What else am I?

I am an artist. 
I am a writer. 
I am a lover of theater. 
I am a pacifist. 
I am a music lover. 
I am a reader. 
I am a communicator. 

Davis begins the first grade of school on August 17th. I am going to miss his shenanigans. I am going to miss his love of cuddling. I am going to miss his bright morning smile, which will slowly be replaced by a reluctance to rise and get on with the work of being a student. 

I am looking forward to renewing my relationship with myself. It HAS been 6 years. Let's see what kind of trouble I can get into...

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

"Good Christians" and the assumption that I must be one as well

So, this has bothered me for quite some time.  It happens most frequently with older people, and I'm always hesitant to challenge an older person.  Grandma and grandpa types will talk, in passing (but with obvious passion and pride), about their faith in god.  They do it in a way that makes it clear that they assume that I am ALSO a "Good Christian".  I'm often tempted to say "I'm a "Good Agnostic Person", but I'm not one to debate elderly strangers.  I'm just not clear on the reason behind the assumptions.  It FEELS like they believe that a good person must, obviously, be Christian.  I don't know if that is what they are thinking, but it is how I feel when the assumption is made.  I also feel like, when someone says "God bless you" because I do something kind, I SHOULD speak up.  They SHOULD know that just because a person doesn't share their faith doesn't mean that they are not capable of being a good person who does good things.  Is that crazy?

Just as "Christian" does not equal "Good", "Good" does not equal "Christian".

While I'm on the subject, why is it that religious people would rather that you believe ANY religion so long as you believe in SOME religion.  Why is disbelief so difficult for them to accept?  I'm actually seeking genuine answers here, so feel free to comment.

So this is short and poorly written.  Sorry folks, it's all I've got for tonight.  Have a good one :)


Sunday, June 26, 2016

Coming Out

This time last year "gay marriage" took one BIG step toward becoming just plain old marriage. This year the Orlando massacre has inspired some people to "come out", and it has started me thinking about some things. Things that I've never spoken to anyone about. Not my best friends, not my husband, not my family. 

I truly view sexuality on a spectrum. Let's say that "preference for men" is red, "preference for women" is blue, and there is a beautiful, wide band of varying shades of purple in between. 

My first crush was a girl. Kindergarten. Her name was Mindy, but that is one of the only things that I remember about her. She had long, dark hair. She was petite, and wore dresses a lot. I was crazy about her. I wanted to be around her all of the time. It wasn't sexual in any way, but it was different than I felt about anyone else. She made me feel shy, awkward, and clumsy. 

I knew that I loved girls when I was 13. It worried me. A lot. I knew that I also loved boys though, so I pushed the confusing thoughts aside and focused on the feelings that made sense to our society. The feelings that reassured me that I was "normal". 

Throughout my life I have had, roughly, half as many "crushes" on women as I have on men.  And as vocal as I am about LGBT rights for OTHER people, I never pursued any of those feelings for those women. They were "cans of worms" best left unopened. To be clear,  I am happy with the way that things turned out for me in terms of the man that I chose to marry. If I'm honest though, I shortchanged myself by allowing society to dictate the people with whom it was acceptable to explore a relationship. 

Believe it or not, this has been VERY difficult to write. Because in order to write it, I've been forced to admit it fully and (semi) openly (let's face it, I don't have or want a huge following lol). My immediate family will not stop speaking to me over this. I won't say they wouldn't judge me, but the ones who don't necessarily support equality will just ignore it. My point is this: I am not being "brave" by sharing this with you. I have little to nothing to lose in doing so. At the MOST I will find out which of my friends (any who actually read this lol) have closed minds. 

Every day, there are millions of people out there who come out to their friends and family members. People whose families WON'T support them or, worse, will outright condemn them (ask me again why organized religion is a bad thing in my eyes).  People who literally risk their safety and their lives to just BE who they are around other people. So try your best to support them. Try your best to understand them. Most importantly, treat them with the same respect that you would give your best friend if he or she confided in you. 

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

The "F" Word

After picking my little guy up from camp today we stopped at Aldi to buy Half & Half. We are heading to the checkout and pass a VERY large woman. I would estimate that she weighed 500 lbs. Davis says (and believe me when I say that I have been fearful of this moment since the day of his birth) "Mama, that lady is FAT!"

Now, I have serious body image issues. I grew up listening to my mother degrade her appearance and her weight. I learned a lot. I learned that she was "disgusting", that FAT was "disgusting", that her face was round and THAT was unappealing. I also learned that her value was based on these things. Every time someone said "You look so much like your mother" I cringed. I hated it. I didn't want to be "disgusting", but I must be. As a result of this upbringing I have been determined to not even USE the word Fat around Davis. I do not want to give it any sort of negative connotation. I talk about losing weight to be HEALTHIER, not smaller. I have been EXTREMELY careful to avoid painting myself as damaged just because I weigh more than I should in order to be healthy.

At first I was unsure about whether or not this woman heard him. I couldn't very well make him apologize if she hadn't heard him. Then I heard her say to the 6 or 7 year old girl with her that "Some people choose to use their manners and some do not". I brought him over to apologize to her. I said that I hadn't known whether or not she heard him, and she said that she did. She said that she wasn't criticizing my parenting, only letting her daughter know that it is up to the individual whether or not they use manners. This actually upset me, because what she was missing was the fact that six year olds, at least mine, comment on things that they see that are unfamiliar to them. If she had been seven feet tall he would have said "Mama, that lady is TALL!". If she had been a dwarf he would have said "That lady is SHORT!" and so on.

I tried to explain (I am forever an explainer) that because I used to weigh nearly 100 lbs more than I do now, I am very sensitive about the usage of the word "fat" and that we do not use it in our home. That he should apologize because it hurt her feelings, but that he really has no negative connotation associated with the word "fat". She wouldn't look me in the eye, and she didn't really seem to be listening. It made me incredibly sad. Because after we left I realized that by addressing the situation I probably made it worse for her. It likely sounded like I was making excuses for my son, which is NOT what I intended. It likely attracted attention, as I demanded that he apologize to her. I realized that forcing him to apologize was actually a selfish act. One performed to make me feel better and to teach Davis a lesson. I VERY much wanted her to feel better. I VERY much wanted to somehow repair the situation, and to show her that my son was NOT being rude. He had no IDEA that what he said could hurt her feelings. I didn't even think of how she would react. How it would feel to be confronted, publicly, with the mother of the child who had just hurt her feelings. None of that occurred to me. I wish that it had. I wish that I had let her think that my son was rude, because I think that would have been easier for her.

On the way home I explained to my innocent, confused child that it really isn't a good idea to talk about ANYONE'S appearance in public. Tall, short, pretty, ugly, big, or small... not everyone likes the things that make them different. Pointing them out can hurt their feelings, and that's not a good thing to do. I hope that he understood.

Monday, June 13, 2016

You are being "sensitive". Overreacting.

Many men do not understand this.  They cannot comprehend that many women do not appreciate the attention because THEY wouldn't mind the attention, providing that it came from another woman.  But, men, what would you think if it came from another man?  Would it freak you out? Would it make you uncomfortable? Would it flatter you, as so many men say that they are doing when they whistle at a woman, or cat call, brush up against us or grab our asses? Somehow I don't think so. 

When I was in the 8th grade, a football player laughed when he pulled my tube top (which was beneath an unbuttoned, and tied, button-up shirt) down to expose my breasts while we stood in line.  I was horrified.  I felt violated.  I WAS violated.  I reported it to a teacher.  My mother reported it to the principal.  She had to fight for the guy to be given one day of suspension.  It left me feeling like I was less of a person than he was. 

In my twenties I had a doctor, an older gentleman, who was very empathetic of my back pain due to my... over-endowment.  At every visit he would pull the table out from the wall, stand behind me, and adjust my back.  Well, the first time.  Looking back, each time he came a little closer. Lingered a little longer with his hands.  It became less of an "adjustment" and more of a back rub.  He was such a kind man that even when I became uncomfortable with it I didn't say anything because I wasn't certain that I wasn't just being "sensitive" and overreacting.  Then one day (and mind you this all took place over the course of a couple of years) I realized that he was leaning against me, from behind.  So many women, SO MANY of us, are afraid of offending a man.  Afraid of appearing "sensitive", of overreacting, of falsely accusing.  Knowing that if we confront you on your behavior we will be accused of making it up, or of "flattering ourselves".  So we are silent.  I was silent.  I struggled with the problem.  How could I get out of the situation?  How could I say "no, I don't want you to "adjust" my back, which actually so desperately needs it."  Instead I convinced myself that I was overreacting.  He was a doctor, I told myself.  I was "flattering" myself.  I actually heard my inner voice tell me that.  Then, abruptly, I received a letter in the mail.  His practice was closing.  I was sad, as he was a great doctor, but also relieved. 

Now, why didn't I simply change doctors?  Good question.  A question that I have asked myself repeatedly.  The answer is interesting.  Because I couldn't convince myself that I wasn't just overreacting.  Women have been told, for as long as we each remember, that we are "sensitive", "emotional", and that we "overreact".  Sexual misconduct, as any man will tell you (with shock in his voice) is a "serious accusation".  How many times have we all heard that, spoken in a tone that says "You better be 100% certain that you are a) right and b) able to prove it.  I know that most men who read this won't get that.  I also know that many women will. 

Many years later I began to wonder about his

Years later I looked him up on a physician rating site.  I needed to know if other women had similar experiences.  He lost his license due to sexual misconduct.  Many women, braver than I, had come together and told their stories (which were shockingly similar to mine, and sometimes far WORSE than mine) and fought so that no other women would go through it again.  I was relieved to know that I hadn't overreacted, but I was also disappointed in myself for not having had the ability to do it myself. 

Friday, May 27, 2016

The "down" side to dramatic weight loss (that no one talks about).

So far, I have lost 87 lbs. people say that I should be "proud". I've worked hard, so yes. I am proud of myself for continuing to put one foot in front of the other on this journey to reclaim myself. This relatively new way of eating (8 months down, the rest of my life to go) has been far easier than anything else that I've tried. Cutting calories left me hungry ALL OF THE TIME. I suck at routines, so any exercise routines that I've ever tried to maintain have always fallen to the wayside fairly early in the game. Replacing carbs with healthy fats though, for some reason my body really responded to that (after two weeks of"adjustment"). So I'm left feeling like it has been easy, even though I KNOW that it hasn't. The cravings are pretty much non-existent, but the fear of falling face-first into a vat of Hagen Daz is ever present. I literally have nightmares about it. Old habits die hard, and this is going to be a lifelong struggle for me in every sense of the term. But I'm supposed to be talking about the big negative of weight loss. Sorry. Ok, here we go. 

Self image. The image of yourself that you carry around with you, 24/7. Once you've been obese for so long, fat becomes part of your identity. People will tell you that your weight isn't who you are. These people are only partly correct. Although it is not ALL that you are, it is PART of who you are. "What does she look like?" "Oh, she has brown hair, big boobs, glasses. She's a big girl." Or "she's overweight". Or "she's fat", depending upon your commitment to politically correct terminology. It is part of your image. More deeply, though, it is part of your SELF image. 

Other people's image of you can change fairly easily. When someone sees you every day, a dramatic weight loss may be shocking at first but no one literally doesn't believe that you've lost the weight. They can see it with their own eyes, and they have no reason to disbelieve it. What a person who goes through a dramatic weight loss is faced with, in contrast, is a disconnect between their internal image of themselves and reality. 

In reality, I am 87 lbs lighter. In reality I have decreased my "dress" size by five sizes (or ten, depending on how you count women's dress sizes. I'm not sure). When I see a photo of myself, though, I see a stranger. My features do not look like my own. They are too...comical, almost. Exaggerated. Without the padding, my mouth looks too big. My nose, my eyes, every one of my features looks foreign to me. My breasts, although still enormous by standard measure, are no longer my breasts. They are shaped differently, and they require considerably more support, if ya know what I mean. 

Do I like my new image? I think so. More than that, I love that I can move more easily; That I don't get winded chasing after my son or taking a flight of stairs; That my knees aren't at risk of giving out on those stairs. 

What I DON'T like is the disconnect. It's disconcerting to see a photo of yourself and have to take a moment to recognize the person staring back. It's weird to see clothing on a rack and not be able to tell whether or not they will fit you because you are completely out of touch with the size of your body. 

It's worth getting to know myself again. Losing weight has been like getting a new toy, winning the lottery, and Christmas all rolled into one. But there is a lot of emotional baggage that takes the place of that physical baggage. Stuff to work through. I was obese for seven years; Overweight for nearly 20. I don't know how long it will take before my self image syncs up with reality. Maybe it won't. I guess I'll find out. 


Thursday, May 26, 2016

Opinions are like...

well, you know. But I've got a bunch. Unlike assholes. Let me be clear: I do NOT have a bunch of assholes. Just the one. Two, if you count my dog, Rupert 😂. 

So I keep hearing about how I should write a blog. I don't know that people will read it, but I guess I'll give it a go. So this is my official "yeah yeah, I'll write some stuff down for you to read" post. Question is, about what should I blog? Current events? Personal stories? Mental illness? Autism? Weight loss? All of these things are within my personal sphere right now, so I guess you'll get a bit of everything. 

So if you find yourself enjoying what you read, say so in a comment. If you hate it, also say so. I'll either tell you that you are right and that my writing is shoddy and unfit for consumption, or I'll tell you where to go (and it ain't gonna be Dairy Queen). 

Be good to one another, and for crap's sake don't vote Trump.