Author Archives: lifeonwry.com

Never say never. Gratitude Experiment: Day 12

Sometimes it’s the people who you would never expect to surprise you that do just that.  I’m sure I used the word never more than a few times in high school, during my self-focused adolescent furies.  Mostly about my stepdad and how I thought we would never get along, much less like each other.

My stepdad entered my life in the early eighties. I was part of the package when he married my Mom – the youngest kid still at home, very bummed that big sis had moved on and left me there stranded. I think my stepdad and I both started counting down the days until my exit as soon as the vows were exchanged.

I wasn’t his biggest fan in those days and he certainly wasn’t mine (I shudder at the thought of what a jerk I probably was). For the most part, we managed to mutually exist in order to keep the peace for my Mom. I didn’t touch his stuff and he didn’t touch mine.  My mother had to pay the price if we did. And I’m still convinced that my cat’s disappearance wasn’t as random as it was said to be.  She had a way of throwing up on his bright white Buick Regal with a navy blue vinyl top at precisely the moment he finished waxing it and walked away.   I would have high-fived her little white paw if I could have.

Those were not fun days. And luckily I ended up with a boyfriend who was equally as thrilled about his new step parent situation as I was. It was a perfect match at the time and it got us both through high school relatively unscathed.

As the years went on and my mother faced her own struggles in the face of losing my sister, my stepdad was there for her like no other. I gained a whole new level of respect for this man and for the size of his heart as he stood beside her. Over the years we became part of team Mom, working together instead of against each other in support of my fragile and hard to understand mother.

Her Alzheimer’s diagnosis many years later launched our improved relationship into overdrive, forming a strategic alliance with the strength of a small army.  At my suggestion, we moved them closer to me so that I could help, and he has taken my lead on just about everything.  I try not to let that thought keep me up at night as I don’t feel grown up enough yet myself to have someone look to me for so many decisions.

I never understood what my mom saw in him back in the day, but now it’s quite clear. I witness it every time I help out with my Mom. Just Friday I noticed he had to remove all of the knobs from the stove.  He’s had to install all key locks on the doors.  And he’s had to get good at hiding things he doesn’t want to disappear (we’ve learned the hard way). He has adjusted to their new life without a complaint.

This man — who had most likely never cooked meals before, never cleaned a house, never handled organizing doctor and vet appointments, probably never dressed or bathed his own kids — now does all of these things for my mother.  I am in awe of his grace and strength.  We have a silent, understood mutual appreciation for each other.  We recognize each other’s capes and the irony of our new found closeness.

They say hard times can make people shine brighter than any star.   And for this I am grateful.

Persistence pays, if you can stomach it. Gratitude Experiment: Day 11

I think I’m an addict. Addicted to my XM radio news channels that is. I love my XM radio news channels almost more than salty snacks, crème brulee and dry martinis (clearly my dietary discipline is hard core).

So when my free six month trial subscription ended today and my channels were replaced with repetitive XM radio promotions, I was horrified. Almost like I had run out of water. Not proud of it, but it’s the truth.
I have been through this process before, and I dreaded the thought of making the XM activation call. I had to gear up. I learned from my days of disciplined mint.com budgeting that persistence pays when you want a lower rate for almost anything. If you can stomach it, that is. So I mustered up all the patience and fortitude that I could and I started the call in the car this morning. I knew this was going to take a while so I settled into the thought of it.

After a good ten minutes of strong accent assimilation and phone number/name combination spellings and respellings, Ms. XM was able to locate my account. We were on a roll. The monthly subscription “special savings” offer of the day she found ‘just for special customers like me’ was $18.99 per month. I knew this was a jump from my last subscription so I asked her to pull up my previous subscription and tell me how it compared. But, she explained, it wasn’t an active account. I pressed on, explaining that I realized it wasn’t active but I wanted to know what I previously paid (clearly this wasn’t part of her script and I think her head spun).

After respelling my name another fourteen times with ” C as in cat, D as in dog, B as in brain damage” she was able to locate it and tell me the lower amount I used to pay, very quickly moving on to the new deal of the day which was several dollars higher. She moved on briskly, pretending like I didn’t just learn that information. (By this time she was most likely reading a screen from her supervisor to “Move on. Clock is ticking. CLOSE THE SALE”). I wouldn’t budge and she knew it. I almost felt sorry for her as a robotic “does not compute, does not compute….” went through my mind.

After another sigh of desperation from Ms. XM, she started quickly typing again to look for even more extra special savings just for me today. (I picture her pressing a button to play sound bite of recorded clicking so it sounds like she is searching diligently.) She “found” a $17.99/month plan. I told her I only listened to three channels and that still wouldn’t work. She sighed with exasperation and asked me to respell the channel names several times more, thinking that would cause me to throw in the towel and accept the terms out of exhaustion. I battled on.

Next I got it to $14.99 for the extra special deal of the day – again ‘just for me’. She said it with a wince in her voice as if she knew I wasn’t going to quit. And by this time I think she had another supervisor message on her screen telling her “The time/revenue ratio on this call is REDLINING. GET IT DONE.”

Then she plays the prerecorded clicking sound bite some more and finds a $9.99 special per month (at the end of the script). I pushed for a prepay option that would bring it down further. (By now there are probably just exclamation points on her screen from her supervisor, “ABORT ABORT. GIVE HER ANYTHING.”

I ended up at $7.09 per month, prepaid at an annual amount. After taking my credit card she slipped in that this rate would only be for a year. Then after repeating my credit card number, she quickly and casually mentioned that I would be authorizing a recurring payment (gotta give a girl credit for determination). I let her know that I would like to be notified each year before renewals (so I can do all this fun over again).

By this time, she relinquished all hope. I had won. We both needed a nap. I think it was 30 minutes later but still, I felt that I had triumphed.

Tip of the day: Know that this only works only if a) the Wall Street Journal has been reporting that the company’s business model is in trouble and 2) for cable and phone companies you must have the details of the specific promotional offering of the competitor at the ready. And it certainly helps if you can mention that your spouse likes the competitor and wants you to switch.

But have the Tums at the ready, you’ve got to be able to stomach it. And today I was. For this small victory, I am grateful.

Give me a dam break. (And it’s not what you’re thinking.) Gratitude experiment: Day 10

I had an interesting conversation with someone today about exploring new interests and skills and what compels one to do so. I find it strange that I have decided to get serious about real writing and also learn to paint this year when both of these things have been on my bucket list for years with little to no action on my part.  Why would I would pick a phase of my life when I have so many stressful events happening to get serious about two pretty big line items on my list?  The timing just seems odd.

Is it because I really am less content with the work I do for a living?  Lately it does seem kind of silly and mundane. And I have a really hard time getting as fired up about things as much as my clients do. Actually as much as I used to back when I donned the corporate cloak and meeting an ad deadline was worth ruining everyone’s weekend for.

Or is it because I’ve read enough self help and positive energy books to fill a library (and provide much amusement to my relatives with my new age philosophies and hypotheses).  I truly am a firm believer in the laws of attraction and the power of visualization.

Maybe it’s because I keep getting reminded of how short life can be.  Or worse…what if I’m falling in line with the cliche of the the middle aged woman who wants to “find” herself? Luckily I’m not dressing like a hippie just yet and I can’t stand the smell of patchouli.

It’s probably more likely that it’s some form of self-soothing to escape and to find a different kind of release.

I’m really not sure what the answer is. But it does makes me wonder what else is possible and what could happen if I decided to open the throttle a little more.  Maybe I’ve had it on halfway for a while – following the path of least resistance and what’s expected. I think we all fall into that trap more often than we’d like to admit – building dams of resistance that maybe just have to break at some point.  The result can transform the slow trickling stream of content into a swollen river of possibilities.

One thing is for certain.  It feels right.  And for that, I’m grateful.

Coming Clean. Gratitude Experiment: Day 9.

Okay I have to come clean on something.  I’m starting to get a complex that every day I need to have something profound to write about on my blog.  However, I’m finding that it’s not always that easy.  And I have enough self imposed guilt trips that I am not going to feel guilty about this too.

So, some days I will just list a few things that I am grateful for while ideas for more profound posts percolate in my head (I promise some good ones are forming up there).

– I am grateful today that my family is safe and healthy – I have heard lots of stories this week in our community of those not as fortunate and they are in my thoughts.

-Also thankful that I have a career that is flexible with nice clients (although I really need to quit procrastinating on my work projects – this blog is way too good of a procrastination tool.)

-And grateful for my dear husband, who puts up with all my bad habits and neuroses, making him  the most patient and kind human being on the planet.  For real.

***Can you think of one or two things that you are grateful for right now?  Think about writing just one to three things down each night before you go to sleep on a notepad you keep under your bed.  Nothing fancy required.  Keep a pen by your clock to remind you.

Studies show that those who practice daily gratitude feel better about their lives overall, are more optimistic about the future, and report fewer health problems. Studies have also shown that those using daily gratitude  get more sleep.  With less time spent awake before falling asleep, they end up feeling more refreshed in the morning — and who couldn’t use that?  Other studies show that gratitude can even have a protective effect against heart attacks.

And… it’s cheaper than therapy by a long shot.  Try it tonight. You will thank me later, I promise.

Invisible Capes Unite. Gratitude Experiment: Day 8

I’ve seen these words about beautiful people crop up lately and I truly appreciate what they say.  It is this very concept that I’ve thought about for years – mine involves invisible capes.

We’ve all had friends or loved ones who have experienced traumatic loss or hardships.  And as most of us know, issues like death or divorce or hardship are truly uncomfortable concepts.  But there are those who really just don’t know how to process it at all.  In turn, many times they shy away from supporting those in need of support for fear of saying the wrong thing or being uncomfortable.  Or they put it on their list, and get busy and forget.

The remaining population, in my estimation, are usually members of the invisible cape club.  They wear an invisible cape which they have earned from evolving through whatever loss or hardship they have endured .  A cape  that can only be detected by others who are wearing one.  A cape that enables them to sense when someone might need support, and to know what to do and what to say (or at least be willing to take a shot at it).  A cape that makes them nicer to the Walmart checker who accidentally overcharges them or the waiter with the late food, at least most of the time. A cape that makes them a little more human.

Not all who experience  loss or hardship are lucky enough to get a cape.  Only those who have learned from their hardships, evolved as humans, and deepened their compassion for the human condition.   We all shut down after tragic events, it’s expected.  But those who choose to make it all the way over to the other side get the cape.

They’ve put aside anger and resentment (and I know from experience that part isn’t always easy).  And they’ve learned that each of us has a choice of what and how we want to be every minute of every day.  And that there is no time like the present to make positive changes, or to write that letter or pick up the phone.  Or volunteer for that committee they’ve been thinking about for years. Because life will always be busy and as a previous post of mine discussed, if it’s important, you make it happen.  Plain and simple.

I’ve made a new friend who has a very sick sister who she may have to lose to Cancer soon. She has the cape and we talk the cape language.  My niece who lost her mother at age 12  has a cape. My friend who lost her father has one, and my dad who lost his brother at a young age and then his own daughter has a big cape which offers me protection when I need it.   Many of my friends who have suffered through painful divorces have capes.  And my friend who lost his wife and whose children lost their mother to Cancer have them (the kids have junior capes for now but they are just as powerful).

Also my dear friend who suffers depression and my neighbor who lost her husband after years of suffering, but whose beautiful smile greets me each day.  And my second Mom (my stepmom) who is one of the most selfless people I know who has herself experienced pain and loss.   She is the epitomy of a card carrying cape member – a woman who sets aside her needs for others more times than I can count.  Who forgives, who doesn’t get angry or feel sorry for herself – who is there for you when you need her before you knew you needed her.   This is all part of the cape language.

Cape members can usually spot each other or at least recognize others of their kind when real conversations can take place.  And once you experience cape language, it’s hard to go back to surface level conversation and falsities except in short doses.  Afterall, we have to recharge our capes at some point.

Today I am ever so thankful for my cape.  And I think I’m going to throw it in the wash more often and remind myself of its powers.

Kids survive first day back to school unscathed. Gratitude Experiment: Day 7

I am grateful that my kids had a seemingly great first day back to school with no complaints.  Instead they told some pretty funny stories on the ride home.  And even mentioned a few teachers they thought they were going to really like.  I’ll take that, plus a bag of chips, any day.

It was hard to get up at 5:45 am after a lazy summer, but we conquered.  For that I am thankful!

Stick figure decals as sticky notes?

Image

This morning, on my first of 459 round-trips to and from my 8th and 10th graders’ schools for the coming year (different schools/different start times/bus route eliminated despite the impact of additional exhaust fumage multiplied by God knows how many families), I noticed a common sight.

It always provides driving entertainment as I see the many variations on the theme. And it is certainly not uncommon in my corner of the universe where my realtor told me people hock their wedding rings to move into this district with such highly rated public schools.  It was a back window decal on an SUV – taking up a large portion of the lower half of the window – with what appeared to be two parent stick figures (perhaps with career themed attire), three or four kid stick figures (with what looked like their respective sports apparatus) and what looked like a dog (not sure if he was holding a regular collar or harness to signal his preference).

I know there is a market out there for these stickers since I even saw a storm trooper version the other day.  And come to think of it, maybe they are a crime preventative measure (what car thief would be so bold as to take a large, active family’s mode of bulk transportation?).  And they do keep me amused on my routine jaunts to and fro.  But I think maybe I’ve finally figured out the real reason for them.

They seem to often depict larger families with three or more children  – all with different sports apparatus.  So maybe the real reason people have these stick figure decals is so that they can remember which kid plays what sport?  Or how high to count before they close the car door? Something to think about.

Note:  no stick figure decals were harmed in the writing of this post.

Back to school is a mixed bag. Gratitude experiment: day 6

Should I feel guilty for being grateful that school starts tomorrow? Everyone I have seen all month has lamented the end of summer.  My guilt is kind of a mute point since my mother was Catholic before she married my dad and 100% of her Catholic guilt was passed directly down to me.  If there is something to feel guilty about, I probably do.  So that’s settled.

On one hand, I am sad that summer flew by so quickly which means the kids are growing up far too fast.  And that our Florida trip was foiled by tropical storm Debbie.  And that we weren’t able to make our summer pilgrimage to Oklahoma to see family and the lake.  But on the other hand I am just plain relieved to get back to a regular schedule and routine.  And to get things back to some semblance of normal, whatever that is.

It has been a hectic and rough summer for our family.  Strike that – it has been an exhausting summer. Post concussion months for my oldest son were peppered with bad choices resulting from low self esteem and depression after being pulled from his sport in April and not released to play any sports all summer.  I’ve never seen him so down on himself  as these past months and felt so helpless at the same time.  The thought of it rattled in my head like a diesel engine many of these summer nights.

My younger son seemed to know it was best to take cover as the various storms erupted in our household these past few months, the poor guy.  I’m sure he’ll be in therapy over it when he is an adult.  Maybe we can get a family discount.  I wasn’t able to help out with my mom (who has Alzheimer’s in a big way) nearly as much as usual.  And my husband has had a less than fun summer at work.  All of this has helped fuel the idling diesel in my mind.

I have been the lifeguard of the group, throwing life preservers hither and yawn, only to quickly reel them back for relaunch.   But even as a weary lifeguard, I am starting to see past the rough waters.  I am grateful that these last couple of weeks have seemed more like our old life.  And that my oldest son’s sly smile is making a return, which sends a ripple effect of relief throughout the house.

So there you have it, I am ready for the close of summer and to move on to smoother sailing.  In fact, hot damn and hallelujah, let the school bell ring.

Hoarding, buried alive — or in my lamps

There they were again, or maybe there she was.  Staring me down as I pulled into my garage this morning.

These two lamps were given to me by my late sister probably 20 years ago, just seven years or so before she died in a car accident at 36.  She gave them to me when her budget allowed her to upgrade her lamp status and when my budget was in need of free lamps.

I probably thought they were way attractive at the time, but they’re really not.  Or at least not now after years of use and an inexpensive foundation to begin with.  My sister would almost suredly agree.  They’ve served us well as bedside lamps for many years.  I have wanted to change them out more times than I can count.  In the last few years in particular they’ve seemed a tad sketchy electrically speaking.  The one by my side of the bed even had a habit of turning on in the middle of the night sometimes.  Was it electrical?  Hmmmm.

I have just enough belief in what’s out there in the spiritual world to be swayed  by a psychic I once saw in an effort to communicate with my sister.  She told me that my sister tries to communicate with me through lights and at night, in my dreams.   I know you’re thinking – well sure, that’s a classic easy reach that anyone desperate to believe might make a connection with.  I even thought so.  Or did I?

As a true skeptic who even tries to set psychic types up to fail,  I also yearn to believe that maybe — just maybe — they really can help me talk to her.  There are just so many things I would ask her.  There are so many memories from my childhood when I lived with my mom and my sister (the Three Musketeers)  where  I can’t quite recall all of the details.  Who would have imagined my sister would be gone and my mother would end up with Alzheimer’s so advanced that she hardly even speaks?  Who would have thought I should have been taking notes for goodness sakes?   They say it is this kind of love — and love lost — that flames our endless desire to communicate with those who have passed on before us.  Especially those that weren’t supposed to.

Back to the lamps.  So, I religiously watch the Hoarding, Buried Alive television show, which to my family’s amusement is what causes me to go on mad purging binges – clothes, furniture, you name it.  My unneeded hoard finds its way to my donate bins and designated areas at least twice a month.  Afterall, it’s just stuff.  And if I’m not using it, someone could.  Plus, from what I witnessed in the homes of  my late grandparents on both sides,  I’m afraid I  just might have a tad bit of a hoarding gene in me somewhere.

So, finally I decided it was time to donate these lamps and get real “grownup” bedside lamps.  My husband appeased me and accompanied me to many stores in search of the perfect bedside lamps, which we found.  I still don’t feel like a grownup, but that’s beside the point.

But what to do with the lamps? I  regularly give most of my donation worthy items to my housekeepers – furniture and all.  They strike gold at my house at least monthly.  Or I like to think they do. I just wish I could understand what they were saying to each other whenever they bag up my donate bin that I keep next to the vacuum.  For all I know it could be “Look at this crap this lady thinks we want…”  But I like to think it’s not, especially since they take it enthusiastically. At any rate, I didn’t want to give them these lamps in case they really did have electrical problems.  That would keep me up worrying for sure.  And I knew that Goodwill probably has to test everything before they sell it.  Or that’s what I tell myself.

So, on three different occasions I have loaded these lamps in the back of my car to take them to the Goodwill donation center along with my other purge-fest prizes. It’s always right at the moment when the guys helping me unload my Hoarding Buried Alive load of treasures point to the lamps and say “these too?” when I freeze.  I tell them not to take the lamps, just everything else.  Then I carefully drive the lamps back to my house and set them at the front of my garage again until I can figure out what to do with them.

I also have a purse my sister gave me that I will never carry again because it’s such a bad luxury brand knock-off.  But I vividly remember how proud she was to buy it for me and how excited I was to have it (same spot in my budget timeline as the lamps).  I remember how much she smiled as I modeled it.  I will never donate it, even after a hoarding series marathon.  I also have a cheesy belt that she gave me that I will never wear, but that reminds me of us going through each other’s closets and making fun of clothes in need of purging. Both items hang inside my closet where I can see them and just know they are there.

Maybe these lamps are my sister’s way of staying in my busy life when I try so hard to keep her memory alive but life gets in the way. And for that I’m grateful.  I think I’ll find a place for them afterall.

Gratitude Experiment: Day 4

Today I am grateful that my writing coach is a fabulous cheerleader and quasi therapist. And also just a terrific and compassionate person. Despite all my best efforts to concoct many complicated and even compelling excuses not to write over these last few months (other than the usual mundane words I use to describe underground gasoline tank monitoring systems and electronic health records), she has been able to push me over my mental hurdles and hold me accountable.

Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that holding me accountable for something for which I think I have perfectly good excuses not to do is a TALL order. Some might even describe me as a stubborn procrastinor with undiagnosed attention deficit disorder who will alphabetically organize her entire pantry before performing the task at hand.  I’ve long convinced myself that my procrastination techniques are uber productive and help me produce better writing.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Despite this daunting duel of wills, my coach did not throw in the towel.  She has encouraged, prodded and even tried to trick me into writing by getting me to forget about my excuses.  As a result, I have submitted an article to a magazine (which is getting published next month) and I am writing this blog.  My list of articles, essays and books I want to write is extensive.  It’s been growing for years.

I have pushed through enough losses and obstacles in life to know that there is a reason for it.  And that reason is to help others face their own obstacles.  And to keep their eye on the gratitude all the while.

Best to be first born, second wife and third realtor

I just learned this saying from a real estate agent who was passing out flyers in my neighborhood the other day. He mentioned it to me after I asked about the house down the street that was taking a while to sell.

The house has a very taste specific exterior paint scheme and interior furnishings. And a less than desirable lot size and angle. I’m not thinking they obsessively watch as many “Get this Sold” HGTV episodes as I do. Not sure if that’s anything to be proud of.

Which is why today the house has a new listing agent and sign …. and a reduced price.

Gratitude Experiment: Day 3

Okay, so I think this gratitude experiment is definitely working because I can’t narrow this down to just one thing to be grateful for today.

Thoughts include:

A fortuitous and great conversation I had with a mother I barely knew at my sons’ haircut place yesterday which tipped me off on college coaches.  I seriously believe there are no accidents in life.

A wonderful call from my son’s tennis coach late yesterday. These tennis coaches continue to impress me with their genuine concern for the boys’ success.  And my son is making me proud.

The fact that my youngest son actually wanted to snuggle with me last night like old times (he is quickly getting way too cool for this so it was an unexpected treat).  And that he actually liked his haircut yesterday.

The fact that my kids can forgive me when I lose my temper sometimes and that I have the ability to apologize and help them realize that we are all human.

Gratitude Experiment Day: 2

I am thankful for my dear niece.  The one positive thing that resulted from losing my sister suddenly 13 years ago is the fact that I have the most wonderful relationship with my niece one could ever imagine.  She is not only my niece, but also my sister, my best friend and a daughter all rolled up into one human being.  Oh, and my doctor (she’s a med student who gets some wacky medical questions from her Aunt), my therapist and parenting counselor.

She is truly a treasure.  I am grateful that my sister gave birth to her and made me an Aunt in 1987.  I still vividly remember shouting to my friends that spring morning in my high school parking lot…. “I’m an Aunt! I’m an Aunt!”  My sister would be so proud of the woman she has become.

All clear on the concussion front

Gratitude experiment day 1 continues:

My oldest son was officially released to play sports after four months of concussion recovery!  Glad to have this chapter complete.

A few things about concussions I wish I had known:

Myth: A concussion only occurs as a result of a direct blow to the head. (My son’s was the neck) Fact: A concussion may be caused by a direct blow to the head, face, neck, or elsewhere on the body if the blow is transmitted to the head.

Myth: Only athletes in aggressive contact sports like football, hockey and lacrosse suffer concussions. Fact: While football has the highest number of concussions, and concussions are common in hockey, lacrosse and wrestling, concussions also occur frequently in boys’ and girls’ basketball and soccer.

Myth: A concussion occurs only when an athlete experiences a loss of consciousness (LOC). (My son was never knocked out) Fact: Concussions can occur with or without LOC. In fact, the vast majority of concussions (more than 95% in a recent study of concussion among high school athletes)5 do not result in LOC.

Myth:The signs and symptoms of concussion are always apparent immediately after injury. (In my son’s case it was two days later) Fact: While signs of concussion (those characteristics that can be observed by people other than the athlete) and symptoms (experienced by the athlete him or herself) are often present or observable at the time of injury, they may not appear until several hours later. In fact, delayed onset of signs and symptoms is more likely in younger athletes.
5. Meehan W, d’Hemecourt P, Comstock D, High School Concussions in the 2008-2009 Academic Year: Mechanism, Symptoms, and Management. Am. J. Sports. Med. 2010;38(12):2405-2409 (accessed December 2, 2010 at http://ajs.sagepub.com/content/38/12/2405.abstract?etoc).
11. Mickalide AD, Hansen LM. Coaching Our Kids to Fewer Injuries: A Report on Youth Sports Safety. Washington, DC: Safe Kids Worldwide, April 2012
Read more: http://www.momsteam.com/health-safety/debunking-common-sports-concussion-myths?page=0%2C1#ixzz23Y4D6Pb4