Happy Birthday to Me

In two more days I will be 39 years old. Thirty-nine years old! This is it, I'm reaching the pinnacle of the hill! This is my last year to fool myself into thinking I'm still young.

I really am quite young, relatively. I am much younger than many of my children's friend's parents. Guess that's something.

I don't feel like I'm pushing 40, but when I look in the mirror I am becoming less and less shocked by a line around my eye, or a gray hair poking out of my head. My husband says I don't have these, but I do.

I have devised a plan to cheat middle age, though. I have decided to live to 100, so for me middle age is still 10 years away!

For Pete's Sake

My dear husband is seeing a therapist. I've been after him for years to go, but he had a major distrust of mental health services. Actually, Randy has trust issues in general, which is one of the reasons he's seeing a therapist.

So, today, Randy's therapist started Gestalt Therapy with DH. The therapist had Randy make up a name for the side of himself that causes conflict. Randy named his alter-ego Pete. Then Randy conversed with Pete. The conversation went something like this:

Randy: Pete, we need to talk. You've been causing a lot of problems between Lily and me. You're holding on to things that I've let go of, putting negative thoughts in my head.

Pete: Hey buddy, I've always been there for you; I've gotten you through a lot of bad times.

Randy: I know you have, Pete, and I still feel like I need you sometimes, but as far as Lily goes, I need you to back off a little.


And so on and so forth.

Personally, I think I have a word or two for Pete.

I think this Gestalt Therapy is a good thing. Randy has obviously found a good therapist. Many of the therapists I've been to did little more than just sit there and have me talk on and on. When Randy is done with this guy, I think I'll give it a go. There's still some unresolved issues I could deal with.

Heart on a Sleeve

A heart on a sleeve

is a sensitive thing

It beats

for all the world to see

It bares and breaks

again and again

It aches; it aches

it can not mend

It bleeds; it disturbs

a discomfort to all

Cringes back with the pain

of all it can't solve

It wonders; it ponders

It braces itself

While others are safe

tucked away on a shelf

It waits; it longs

It reaches out

"Is anyone out there?",

one hears it shout.

A heart tucked away

is safe and secure

It hurts no longer

but loves

no more

It withers

and shrinks

away from malaise

The cavernous body

No longer ablaze

I'm Not Good With Ghosts

Yes, that's right; I'm not good with ghosts. This is because I get very attached to people, too attached for my own good. It's just too painful for me to let go of people, so I don't. Yes, I know how "psycho" this is. It's clingy, neurotic, maybe even "stalkerish". It can't be helped, once my complicated mind connects with another person's mind, the bond is hard for me to break, no matter how big the chasm in the relationship. What can I say? It's not that often that I click with someone in the first place!

This is why I know the wherabouts of, and have general information about what's going on in the lives of every person I've had any sort of close relationship with (It's a really short list, so it's not that incredible) I'd explain this further, but then I'd have to kill you.

Anyways, I can handle the whole "Lets be friends" thing. Shoot, I can handle "Let's be enemies." I could even handle, "Lily, would you just go fuck off, already!"

But I can not handle ghosts, people that just slip away for no apparent reason, or explanation, or without letting me explain myself. I have an intense fear about this. I could speculate on what's caused this fear. There's the best friend that dated my brother, broke up with him, and then stopped talking to me. And of course there's the fact that the same brother died very suddenly in a car accident, and disappeared from my life forever. But, whatever it is, the lingering memory of a person who brought joy to my life at one time or another, is just too hard to shake.

So you ghosts out there, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, can you try and work things out with me? I am extremely forgiving and non-judgemental. I'm big on recycling, rather than "dumping".

If not, could ya'll just be meaner? Could you just say, "Hey Lily, you're a fucking psycho. I don't like you, and I don't know why I ever did. Go away, crawl in a hole, and die!",

....if it wouldn't be too much trouble.


And yes, I am on medication, and I have seen a therapist!

Charlie Brown and the Football

If you grew up in the 70's, you probably watched a few Peanuts cartoons. Remember those scenes with Lucy, Charlie Brown and the football? It always started with Lucy telling Charlie Brown that she'd hold the football, while Charlie Brown kicked. Of course Charlie was always skeptical, as Lucy time and time again had pulled that football away just before the moment of impact. But sure enough, old Charlie would fall for it again, and end up flat on his back.

Why did Charlie Brown keep trying to kick the football every time? Why did he trust a girl who hurt him over and over?

Maybe it's because Charlie Brown was an optomist, and believed there was some goodness in everyone. If he only showed faith, that person would come through.

Or maybe Charlie Brown was just so genuine a person that he couldn't believe anyone would lie to him, especially when he expressed his doubts. Lucy would assure him every time that she was not going to pull the football away, and Charlie kept believing her.

Maybe Charlie was just such a pathetic looser that he had no choice but to try and kick the ball. Maybe it's the only interaction he could get with Lucy. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. He knew he might as well get it over with and take his humiliation, and pain.

For whatever reason the Charlie Brown's of the world, including me, keep running full force, with foolish optimism, thinking each time it will be different. The hurt won't happen this time. This time I'm going to kick that ball poised before me into the air, and feel good about myself.

But each time, I land flat on my back, staring at the sky, and wondering what happened.

Burying Friendship

I've known Mo since freshman year of high school. We've had an on again, off again friendship for the past 24 years. She's one of those quirky people, that I've always admired. I always thought it was geeks like us vs. the rest of the world. And I always thought that every time she strayed away from me, she'd come back. The longest was a 3 year period, during which time, she moved in with a guy, got pregnant, broke up with the guy, moved back home, and had a son.

A mutual friend from high school brought us back together. After that, we became very tight. We'd bitch and moan to each other about mothers, kids, husbands. Oh, by the way, Mo snagged another guy, a real nice one, and got married. I was her matron of honor.

Then my "issues" kept creeping up. I've been through 6 years of non-stop "challenges"since about the year 2000. Mo's had her own issues, but sorry, they pale in comparision. After-all, the biggest problem she has with her son is lying. The biggest problem I've had with my kids have involved hospitalizations and chronic illness. Still, I listened and was always there for her.

Now I'm coming to the sad conclusion that this person that I've called one of my best friends for the last 24 years is not really my friend. A friend supports you when you're down. A friend accepts you for who you are. Mo's done neither, particularly in the past year. So, I feel it's time to bury the friendship, mourn, and move on.

You have no idea how hard that is for me to do.

Life Resolutions

It's a little late for New Year's Resolutions, but I'm thinking some Life Resolutions are in order.

1. I will no longer try to maintain relationships with people that don't care about me, or accept me for who I am.
2. I will no longer do favors for people who never say thank you, or return the favors.
3. I will not seek attention by being flirty, or shocking people.
4. I will appreciate every single day of my life, and not keep thinking about tomorrow, or next week, or this summer.
5. I will stop worrying about the things I can not change, and focus on the things I can.
6. I will stop blaming myself for the bad decisions my grown, and almost grown children make, and the imperfections in their lives.
7. I will shut out the nagging voice of my mother, the guilt of having a messy house, and the impulse to compare what my house looks like to anyone else's. I have made my own choices, established my own priorities, and no one here is upset because things are not all in order.
9. I will stop trying to do everything for everyone in my family, and delegate to those perfectly capable of doing for themselves, and helping out the family.
10. I will stop worrying what could happen in a relationship, and just enjoy what is happening.
11. I will stop regarding feedback from others as proof of my self-worth, or that I have done something well.
12. I will stop beating myself up daily for the mistakes I've made in the past.
13. I will take what I can from those mistakes and learn from them.
14. I will be true to myself and to hell with anyone who doesn't like it.
15. I will make myself a better person by setting and following my own path.

The Mental Health Care System

You know how hard it is to find a good hairdresser? Imagine that you need your hair done, but you can only go to a select group of hairdressers. You're "hairdressing provider", who is paying for your hair care, gives you a list of names and numbers of hairdressers that you may go to with their approval.

You call these hairdressers, and a quarter of them say they are not taking new clients. Another quarter say they do not cut or color hair on people your age. Maybe another quarter say they are not in your "hairdressing network", and that they don't know why they are on the list that your hairdressing provider has given you.

Before getting down to the last quarter of potential hairdressers, you've been put on hold, told you've got the wrong number, and to call their "hairdressing intake number", or you were greeted with a voice mail, swearing they'd call you back soon.

Now imagine you're down to your last quarter of potential hairdressers whose names and numbers you've been given. Imagine that those hairdressers tell you it will be a month before they can see you, and you have to take whatever time they have available. "What?", you say, "But, I've got work, school, a family to take care of...and my hair looks terrible now!" Doesn't matter, take it or leave it.

Finally the day comes for your hairdressing appointment. You sit down with the hairdresser, and she proceeds to ask you for a whole history of your familly's hair. A whole hour is spent on that, and then the hairdresser recommends you see a "hair product specialist" as well. So, it's back to square one with setting another appointment which will take you another month or so to schedule.

Your hair product specialist says your hair is dry, and gives you some conditioner to fix this. You use the conditioner, but your hair is still dry. When you tell the specialist this, he says you need to use more of the conditioner. Then when you go back and tell the specialist your hair is still dry, he suggests a whole new conditioner, and the next time, to combine two conditioners to fix your dry hair.

Meanwhile, back at the hairdressers, you meet your stylist. You may or may not like her personality, but at this point you're desperate. She says you will have to come to her about every other week so she can attempt to fix all your hair woes. After weeks of this you may or may not like your hair. Then one day on an appointment, your stylist regrets to inform you that she is going to another salon, and it is either an hour away from you, or not on your approved list of hairdressers.

So now the merry-go-round starts all over again.

One one desperate night, your hair suddenly starts falling out! You rush to the phone to call the salon, only to be told that they can't help you. "Try the hair emergency clinic." they tell you. You call the hair emergency clinic and they tell you to sit and wait till they can pre-approve you for emergency hair care. You sit for hours, watching your hair falling out, not knowing what else you can do.

You are admitted to the emergency hair care center, and they quadruple your conditioner in the hopes that that will fix your problem. 2 weeks later, your hair's pretty weighted down from all the product, and you have no idea how to keep your hair from falling out in the future.

And oh, by the way, turns out the salon you've been going to is not really in your hairdresser network, so you now owe 50% of all the charges you've incurred there.

Now imagine that we are not talking about something so trivial as hair. Hair grows back, afterall. Imagine we are talking about your mental health, or your child's. The mental health care system in this country is a living nightmare, frustrating to no end, extremely frightening, and confusing.

How can this happen? Most people do not care if they don't have to go through this hell; they don't even think about it. Many people don't want to talk about mental health, mental disorders and disabilities, even in a country where you can't open a women's magazine without seeing half a dozen ads for anti-depressants, anti-anxiety pills, sleeping pills.....where your primary care doctor will prescribe you these pills just on your say so that you aren't feeling quite right.

And so the nightmare continues.....

The Lifeboat

The ship went down a long time ago. I'm not quite sure when, or what exactly happened, or who, if anyone's fault it was. All I know is that I found myself one day in a lifeboat, a small rubber raft, floating in the sea and not knowing in which direction I would find my harbor.

This lifeboat, this woefully inadequate vessel was slowly taking on water, and I and my children were sinking. I tried desperately to plug the holes, and paddle to shore, while bailing bucketfuls of water out of the boat. My bucket was too small, and there was so much water. I paddled in circles, exhausted, with the uneasy feeling that the childen were popping more pin holes in the raft.

I'd gain distance some days, and float back with the tide on others. Sometimes along the rocks, I'd hear the Sirens call and drift off in the wrong direction. Sometimes I'd just get too overtaxed and give up. Then I'd jolt back to my senses because the waves had taken over the boat, stinging my eyes with salt water and rousing me to my senses.

This is it, I thought, we're all going to drown. Maybe if I jumped overboard, my weight would stop dragging us down, and the kids would make it? I was hallucinating; I'd see dry land, but it was just a mirage. Pirhannas and sharks swirled around us, waiting to devour the remains of defeat.

Then one day, one blessed, unsupsecting day, I turned around, and there was another person in the boat with me. It was my captain. He could not stop the water from coming in the boat either, but he grabbed another paddle, and another bucket. He paddled with all his might, which encouraged me to paddle with all my might. He swooped up bucketfuls of water, till the water was almost gone. Then we looked into each other's eyes and said, "Let's do our best to get this thing in the right direction."