UNDERSTANDING isn’t an option…

Understanding certain things in life just isn’t always possible… for me anyways. Like for instance, how do I still have a driver’s license? Most of the time I have no idea how I got from point A to point B because I was obviously day dreaming. It’s a miracle that I’m still alive!! I drive like a maniac. I have zero patience for other drivers; slow drivers, stupid drivers, reckless drivers… ALL OTHER DRIVERS!! I swear, and yell at other drivers, out loud, even though they can’t hear me, because I’m irritated by them. This is why I need a driver.

Then there is this little gem: how have I not been arrested for first degree murder, several times over, by now? Most of the time, and I do mean MOST OF THE TIME, with exceptions of course, I want to throat punch people, whack them upside the head with whatever is in my hand, punch them in the face, and sometimes I even want to kick them in the shins. Why? Because people, not all people, but some people, are just plain stupid, rude, inconsiderate, oblivious, callous, selfish, thoughtless, ignorant, and most of all just plain dumb. Does common sense, exist anymore? Does common courtesy exist today? Does common decency no longer exist in this world? What is wrong with people? It’s not that hard to use your brain. Just access that little cavern in the back that tells you how to not be a moron.

And then there was hate; this one I truly don’t understand. As a rule, I do not hate anyone. I may dislike them, I may despise them, but I don’t hate them. Hate, while technically meaning dislike and despise, is so much more of a negative connotation when it comes to feelings towards other people. When someone says they harbor hatred towards another person or group of persons, I feel sick inside for all parties involved. The word hate just feels so much more violent, and is the root of so much violence from one to another. For instance, I was skimming my Facebook feed, and came across a post where the mother, who was white, of a black 14-year-old child, was pleading for parents to educate their children on the importance of treating people with kindness and respect. Especially if you don’t know the other person. Apparently her son, and his white friend were at the town park ready to take a swim in the lake, when two other children, both white and of an unknown age, approached them and said some very vile, nasty, racist things to her son. In my opinion, these abhorrent little creatures are the product of their environment both at home and in the world.

First, interactions like this stem from hate, but how can you can hate someone who you don’t even know? How can you justify hating a person that you don’t know from a hole in the wall, because of their skin color? Or because of their religion? Or because of their sexual preference, Or because of their nationality? It makes zero sense to me. When I form an opinion of a person, it is based solely on their mannerisms, intellect or lack there of, and their sense of humor. Sometimes I judge to quickly, sometimes I take to long to judge, but I would never, even if I determined that this person and I will never be friends, judge and dislike based off of skin color, religion, sexual preference, or nationality. How can someone justify these types of negative feelings based solely off of something so trivial? It is a wast of time, effort, and your own existence to be so vile towards another human being that has done absolutely nothing to you. Someone that you don’t even know.

Second, what kind of parent lets their child act like this? The obvious answer is the parent who also acts like this towards other people, or… the parent who has no clue what their child is doing and how they are acting. Children are a product of their environment, if you, as a parent, act with hate then expect that your children are going to act with hate because that is what they see at home. If a child has absentee parents for any number of reasons, then it stands to reason that children who are not taught how to act decently, will not act like decent human beings. We need to do better for our children! Our children are our future! At the rate this world is going today, I’m afraid to see what it will be like in another forty years. I know that I have taught my daughter to be a good person, to treat others with kindness, and to treat people as she would want them to treat her. It’s not that hard. It’s an easy concept to grasp. Why are we as a society failing so miserable at it?

Lastly, it is easy to blame the current administration for the upsurge in public hate crimes, again we, not everyone but some, will inherently act the way we see our superiors act. For instance, if we see the POTUS getting away with sexual harassment, bribery, blackmail, racism, domestic abuse, child neglect, fraud, hatred, and general stupidity, then why not think it is okay for the little people to do it to. Well, NEWS FLASH AMERICA, IT. IS. NOT. OKAY. I’m sure that you have figured out that I am not a Trump supporter, but that does not mean that I do not respect the office to which he sits. While I think he is making a mockery of it, he is, at the end of the day, just another man. Albeit a man in a position of power, and therefore he should act accordingly, BUT… and this is a BIG one so pay attention… teach your children right from wrong. If they see it on TV, tell them it is not okay. If they see it on the streets or in school, tell them it is not okay. If they see it at home, reevaluate the way you act and tell your self and them, that it is not okay.

My parents always told me, I still always tell my daughter, and I’m going to say it again for you: TREAT OTHERS AS YOU WOULD WANT THEM TO TREAT YOU. Otherwise, don’t be surprised when you’re the one having hatred spewed at you for no reason, because didn’t you just do that to someone else that you didn’t know? For no reason at all except your own sick satisfaction?

Again… I have said it before, but we need to do better for the future of our children and this world.

Until next time…

P.S. I will still probably drive like a maniac, so be warned. And I will still swear out loud in the car at other drivers, but they can’t hear me. And I will still probably envision myself throat punching the person who wants to have a conversation BEFORE I have had caffeine, but I would never actually do it, so there is that.

 

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Me & Mr. Styles

IMG_2171Originally when I sat down to write this weeks blog post, it was going to be titled “Our children“, and it was going to be political. A harsh, sad, and passionate plea for a change in the way we treat refugee families seeking asylum in our country. Make no mistake, I will still share my feelings on this tragic subject however first, I want to talk about what I learned at the Harry Styles concert last night.

First, let me just say that Mr. Styles puts on one hell of a good show! I was worried that it was going to be another teen-pop fest, with boy band dancing, and bubblegum-pop music, the likes of which would rival his One Direction days. It was refreshing, to say the least, that I got more than expected and then some. Besides the obvious, and most important part, spending time with my daughter, and her bestie, listening to music that she loves, and listens to in “times of great distress”, teen speak for having a bad day, I got to experience the enigma that is Harry Styles.

As a forty-two year old woman, who by the way is single, I’m only slightly mortified by the fact that I think this man of only twenty-four, which is a smidgen less than half my age, is completely, and utterly handsome. Harry Styles is debonaire, suave, and he exudes an innocent charm. Please understand this opinion is formed purely based off of his mannerisms on stage, what I have seen in the media. Obviously I don’t know Harry Styles personally, otherwise there may be some conflict; with my robbing the cradle and him being my son-in-law…

Anyhow, if that wasn’t enough, something I didn’t expect was to find out that Mr. Styles only has one album out, and he actually had to work to get where he is today, BUT for me, I was impressed to see that he had partnered with Nalgene and Reverb to host a Green Tour. Concert goers are educated, to the extent they will retain, about the mission for, and importance of, a more ecologically sound environment by reducing the impact the tour will have on our environment; for the sum of $20.00, you can purchase a water bottle which can be filled, refilled, and refilled again at the portable Reverb water stations located around the stadium. As a parent, the $20.00 was worth the donation to avoid standing in lines at the concession stands, and paying $6.00 x 3 people, per bottle of water (that’s potentially $36.00 for 6 bottles of water). As an avid recycler, composter, water drinker, and shop local advocate, not throwing numerous plastic bottles in the recycling bin felt great. To take it one step further, by partnering with Reverb, Harry’s entire tour is “Green”; locally sourced foods for the catering room, biodiesel fueling, composting, recycling, carbon offsets, and more. After some research, I learned that this has been a regular thing with many touring artists since 2004. Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? Simple, none of the concerts I have been to in the past fourteen years have participated; Taylor Swift, Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake, One Direction, radio station sponsored concert festivals, etc… Why are more artists not participating in this “Green” initiative? But I digress.

Getting back to the subject of refugee children being separated from their parents, part of Harry’s concept is to “treat people with kindness”, and to voice his acceptance of ALL people; his concert being a safe place to express your self as an individual. This was refreshing to me, and this being Pride Month, there was a huge show of support for the LGBTQ community. What stuck with me was the message of treating people kindly. While I sat there observing the young people around me, I noticed the lack of adult supervision. Now I admit to being a helicopter mom, but realistically, is it a smart parental decision to let two seventeen year old girls, who have never drive into Boston alone before, or who have never ridden the commuter rail, attend a concert at the Garden by themselves? Not in my opinion. Granted, they will need to learn someday,  but for me, last night was not that day. It blew my mind at the number of teenaged girls running around Boston, the Garden, and on the commuter rail alone in only groups of two or three.

While parents are physically having their babies ripped out of their hands at the border, people who live here already, are voluntarily letting their children roam free hoping that they don’t get lost, mugged, rapped, murdered, and even kidnapped. It takes a lot of faith in humanity to let your children out into the world today. From April 19, 2018 thru May 31, 2018, 1,995 children were separated from 1, 940 adults at the U.S. – Mexico border by our own Homeland Security Agents. Every year, over 300,000 Americans under the age of 18 are lured into the commercial sex trade. Roughly 800,000 children are reported missing each year in America. If our current administration continues to allow this separation of refugee families, there will be an estimated 15,520 refugee children placed into the hands of DHHS this year alone. Lets not forget to mention the socioeconomic impact on our nation, its finances, and our overall belief in the political system.

To no fault of their own, these refugee parents are effectively shipped home and left to the agonizing task of trying to find their children. Wondering day and night, whether they are warm, clothed, fed… or even still alive. As a mother, this breaks my heart, and makes me want to hover even closer. As a mother, over my dead body, are they taking my child, and make no mistake, I would move heaven and earth, to find my baby, and God help the man or woman who gets in my way. For refugee parents who may not even speak english, and have no resources, this could all prove to be an insurmountable feat. Thanks to humanitarians at heart, people are willing to help because lets face it, what our President is mandating is beyond disgusting. There are so many other ways that the deportation process can be carried out, and being kind to our fellow humans who are fleeing persecution, is a start. There is a difference between doing your job, and doing your job with kindness, empathy, and compassion.

The Bible says, in Proverbs 22:6 “Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” There is always the potential for these displaced children to grow up hating our Nation because of the way our government has treated their families. Perhaps if we take a different, more humane approach, these children will grow to love our Nation instead of hate it. Heaven forbid we be responsible for creating our own destructors later.

Be kind to one another.

Until next time…

*Photo Cred: Me

Feelings of Inadequacy…

imagesEveryone has them even if they don’t want to admit it. Wether it’s in the bedroom, the workplace, in school, in your social life, and even when it comes to your own family.

This past Friday was T’s junior prom. Following tradition, all of the prom goers assemble at one central location within the town where their families and friends can go, and take pictures without having to go from house to house. It’s quite brilliant actually, and it gives the business who hosts it, a little extra shine on their name. In any case, it was so nice to see all of the young ladies dressed to the nines in flowing gowns, some less than others, and to see the young men looking so dapper in their tuxedos.

While playing photog to my little social butterfly, I was able to spend a few minutes here and there, people watching. This is one of my favorite things to do, not because I like to judge, but because I like to read people, and imagine what they are feeling, thinking, and even hiding. Sometimes you see some hysterical, and downright unbelievable stuff when people think no one is watching. Sometimes though, you see something that makes you sad, and this is the part of people watching that I don’t like so much.

After taking a series of pictures for T and some friends, we went back to where other friends of hers

were standing with their moms, one of whom I had noticed earlier looking to be uncomfortable, was now visibly upset, and trying to compose herself. At that moment I had no idea what was wrong with this mom, but internalized it as her possibly being overcome with emotions by seeing her daughter all dressed up for prom. The idea that in just over a years time, her daughter would be graduating high school and going off to college, weighing heavily on her mind. It wasn’t until later, after overhearing T and her friend talking, that I realized this mom was feeling inadequate.

As a matter of self preference, I choose to get dressed up in a nice, yet still casual manner  when I attend school functions, official or not. As a matter of parental pride, I am happy that T and me have the type of relationship that we do. One where she wanted me to follow her, and her friends around taking pictures, chatting with other parents, and just being together in this milestone moment for her, and lets face it, me to. Apparently this particular mother daughter relationship is a contentious one, and as a result left the mom standing lost in a sea of people, while her daughter flitted about taking photos. From what I understand, the mom thought it was because she showed up wearing a t-shirt and shorts, asking the daughter why she didn’t tell her she had to dress up.

Now I’m going to skip over my thoughts on why defers to her daughter for the occasions dress code, but who cares that she wore shorts and a t-shirt? I didn’t. There were plenty of other parents there wearing shorts and t-shirts, because let’s be real, it was a very humid ninety degrees. Of course if you just crawled out of the garden or out from under a car, then yeah, maybe a change of clothes is in order. Obviously the real problem here is the mother/daughter relationship.

I’m not a therapist, but it doesn’t take one to know that if your child is uncomfortable or embarrassed by any aspect of their home life, then that is going to affect the way they act around their parent when others are around. It was clear from the way she constantly tugged on it, that this friend was not comfortable in her dress, because it was not tailored to fit her exact measurements, and it was a little dated compared to other dresses. You then add in a mom who looks like she was cleaning house all day, and given underlying issues, you have two people who are left feeling inadequate compared to the people they are around. I would have gotten teary to. My heart goes out to this mom, and her daughter. I hope they are able to figure out their relationship, and build a more solid foundation for the future. No one should be made to feel inadequate by anyone, especially their family.

Which leads me back to… me. Very rarely do I have feelings of inadequacy, but when I do, it is usually because my family, unbeknownst to them, makes me feel this way. There isn’t anything that they do or even say to trigger these feelings within me. Feelings of inadequacy are just like feelings of anger, happiness, and even jealousy; they just exist. People go about their daily lives, make strides to be successful, have families, get married, become something, and there is always someone, like me, who feels inadequate in their own life, especially when they are in a situation to see whatever it is that makes them feel “less than”, face to face. For me, these feelings are popping up in light of the family reunion I have coming up this week.

For seven days, I will be surrounded by family members who are doctors among other accomplished professionals, married, living in beautiful homes they own, and living comfortable lives. In comparison; I am single; never having been married, “self-employed”; while I try to make a writing career take off full-time, living in my parents house; as a single parent it was hard financially, never owned my own home; I never made enough money to, and financially; things have been tough for a long time. While I tell myself that I have no reason to feel inadequate, I just published a book for gods sake, it doesn’t stop those feelings from surfacing, but instead of letting them drag me down, I plan to use them as motivation.

Motivators are always essential when you are trying to start out in any new aspect of life. For me, wanting to own my own home, live comfortably, and have a career I can love, are all motivators for me to write more, write better, and to write diversely. It is infinitely harder to sell your writing when you publish yourself, but it is possible. So this week while I ma surrounded by my family, who love me regardless and visa versa, I’m going to try to feel less inadequate and more motivated to have a life that not only I can be proud of, but so can T and the rest of my family.

Until next time…

Relevance…

Finding a subject for this week’s blog post has been quite arduous (I love that word), usually I have the post topic floating around in my head a couple of days prior to posting it on Monday morning. This week, not so much.

I have been watching the trends, how many people are reading which posts, and taking notes. It seems that the majority of people enjoy reading the posts that contain the more controversial and personal topics. While all of my posts are personal to a certain degree, some more than others, not all of them are necessarily “hot button” issues. So this week, in an effort to remain relevant, I decided to write about the two most recent societal focus’ and my thoughts on each.

  • Last week there was another school shooting which makes more than 18 so far in 2018, 22 to be exact. That’s an average of one per week, and we aren’t even half way through the year. It seems quite negative and callous to say it that way, but the fact of the matter is, its true. There are still roughly six months left in this year, and there is still nothing being done to prevent our children from being murdered senselessly while in, what is supposed to be a safe place, school. This 17-year-old child, Dimitrios Pagourtzis, who decided that it was his right to take the lives of his fellow students, will not be served the death penalty because it is against the law for a minor to be subjected to capital punishment. Instead he faces 40 years to life in prison. We all know what happens to child molesters in gen pop, but what happens to child murderers? Ones who are still children themselves? If it were my choice, I would delay proceedings as long as I had to, for him to turn 18, so he could then be served the death penalty. That is what murders deserve. If you intentionally and willfully go out into the world with the intent to take another human beings life, then you forfeit your own, assuming you are brought to justice, alive. From everything that I have seen and read about this tragedy, Dimitrios Pagourtzis was not ill, was not a social outcast, he was a football player on the honor roll, there is no sound proof to support his being bullied, and there was plenty of evidence to show that he wanted to commit this senseless act of violence, going as far as to basically advertise it on social media and in journals. Unfortunately he slipped through the cracks; now 8 students and 2 teachers are dead with 13 others having been injured. When is this going to stop? When will I be able to stop worrying about sending my 17-year-old daughter to school, fearing that the next school lock down due to a “threat” is going to be real, and not just a “threat”? We live in a scary time, and our politicians are saying the same thing that they have said after every one of the first 18 school shootings: “administration is determined to do everything in [their] power to protect our students” – President Trump, “we simply can not allow this trend to continue” – Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos. Actions speak louder than words. Gun control is, in part, key, and while I agree that private citizens have a right to own and bear fire arms, we need to set limits and regulations with more stringent background checks. How do children get their hands on killing machines? I am not naive enough to say or think that it’s the guns fault; It is most definitely the persons fault. Lets make it harder for people like Dimitrios Pagourtzis, Austin Wyatt Rollins, Nikolas Cruz, and Sky Bouche, just to name a few, to have the ability to take the lives of our nations future. Lets make it safer for children like mine, and yours to go to school, and live to make our country great again.
  • A Royal Wedding. Just to be clear, I did get up at 5am to start watching the pre wedding coverage. I did watch the entire wedding and post coverage. I watched intermittent coverage throughout the day, and yes, I did watch the 7pm news for coverage on their departure to Frogmore House, followed by a re-run of the wedding, which I also watched. In addition, I have been soaking up all of the social media posts, and pictures of the wedding in the days since the wedding. I understand that there are people out there who have no interest in the Royals, to them I say, to each their own. There are people out there who feel that we have more pressing issues in our country to worry about than watching a Royal Wedding, to them I say, there is nothing wrong with enjoying a small bright spot among the darkness. With that having been said, OMG… I am in love! I will proudly admit that I am an Anglophile; a person who admires Everything Britain. Ever since I can remember, I have always wanted to be there, in Britain, to live there, vacation there, and just be British. So far in my life, I have only been there once and it was amazing. My reason for being there was not so smart, but in the end, I found myself staying at the home of a close friend of mine, enjoying the country side and just being happy. Though I have never actually been to visit London, I will get back there at some point to do so. Watching the Royal Wedding makes all of my Anglophile tendencies bubble to the surface, and now I find myself looking for any reason, not that I need one, to hop on a plane, skip over the pond, and jump into the land of British society. But I digress, getting back to the wedding: critics say that the Duchess of Sussex’s’ dress was to boring and safe. I disagree, it was classic and timeless; perfect for the occasion. There was no, major, pomp and circumstance as Harry will never be king; they can have a more relaxed vibe. The ceremony its self was beautiful, and a touch political, with a masterful sermon delivered by Bishop Michael Curry, centering on “love” as a way to end poverty and war. Considering the new Duchess is biracial, a somewhat political feminist, a humanitarian, a divorcé, an actress and American, I felt that the ceremony was perfectly Harry & Meghan. Without the rigidity of Will & Kate’s ceremony, they were able to include their fun-loving, pizza ordering during the reception, friends to help them usher in a new season to their lives as man and wife. It all makes me hunger even more for the day, that I can walk down the aisle to my new husband. In fact, my Pinterest account has been put to work with “future wedding” prep ever since watching the Royal Wedding. Now I just need The Man to marry! Sounds easier than it really is. Alas, as the hopeless romantic that I am, the words “Love is Love is Love” resonate deeply within me, and I hope that if you are a Royal watcher like me, then you shed a tear or two in happiness for these two wonderful human beings.

With all of that, I say, Until next time…

To the Single Mom on Mother’s Day…

Technically Mother’s Day was yesterday, but… it is still a relevant subject. If you have been single for your child’s entire life, just a few years of it, if your child is older, younger, understands or maybe doesn’t understand; this is for you because we are all in the same boat. My boats seem to be accruing fast these days.

When I was younger, and thought about having my own kids, no where in those thoughts did it occur to me, that being a single parent was a thing. My parents were married before they had me, and are still married today. Having been raised in the eighties and nineties we saw the percentage of single mother homes recorded at 18% of the American single parent population, only growing to 24% by 2012. That’s 32 years with a small growth of only 6%. For some perspective on the situation, in 2017 there were a total of 11,667 single parent families in the United States, 81.4% of those households had single mothers. In a mere 5 year time frame, the percentage of American homes with single mother’s grew 57.4%. This is a staggering number, and the first statistic that I was lumped into as a woman.

Getting back to my younger thoughts; I had it all planned out, I would graduate from high school, go to college and graduate, start in my perfect job, meet the man of my dreams, get married, and by the time we were 30, we would own a house with the white picket fence, a dog and 3.5 kids. In reality, I graduated from high school and college, got an okay job, met a decent guy, and had a baby at 24 while still living at home with my parents. The guy turned out to suck, left, and for the most part, hasn’t been back, leaving me in the single mother household category for my entire adult life.

Mother’s day is one of those Hallmark holidays where we are meant to celebrate, the women who have sacrificed the integrity of their bodies, minds and hearts for the little peanuts who grow into tiny humans in their abdomens. The women who, to no fault of their own, can not or don’t want to, biologically have children, but have adopted them into their hearts, homes, and lives. The women who have taken in and raised, for one reason or another, their grandchildren. The foster mom’s, the step-moms, and the honorary moms. To all of you, I say Happy Mother’s Day, but understandably, I can sympathize, empathize and identify, with other women in my similar situation as a single mom, and the reasons why Mothers Day is awesome, but breaks your heart a little at the same time.

Raising one child on my own was hard enough, I don’t know what would have happened to me if I had, had more. When they say it takes a village, they definitely mean it. Without my village, my mom, dad, and brother, I would have never made it to daycare on-time, on more than one occasion, to pick T up, let alone pay for it; the daycare expense is like a mortgage payment without the house. When I went into labor, I wouldn’t have known what to do or how to get to the hospital. I wouldn’t have had a clean mattress to come home to. That second month when I was laid up for six weeks with a blood clot, we both would have been lost. The sleepless nights when I needed a break from the 2am feeding, and the 3am one too. All of the school and extra curricular functions they went to with me, because I didn’t want to be there alone. All of the diaper changes, bottle cleaning, meals fed while I was at work. All of those nights I worked until 11:30pm, and homework, bath time, and dinner got taken care of. Soccer practice runs, last-minute things forgotten by me before she got on the bus. Being home when she got off the bus. All of the past mothers day’s, Christmases, and birthdays when they made sure she had gifts to give me. All of those nights I wanted some adult time out with friends. Throwing my baby shower, housing birthday parties, sleepovers, and the endless other things in-between. Doing it alone would not have been impossible, but infinitely harder.

As mothers who co-parent under the same roof enjoy the spoils that Mothers day offers, I find myself, and image that other single moms do as well, thinking about the things that I have, and have not, been able to give my child throughout her life. Not just because I am a single mom, but because I am just that, a mom; I am not a dad.

Mothers and fathers offer two different perspectives when it comes to being a parent. A child from a single mother household, only receives that one perspective, and has to rely on other sources; mom, a relative, friends, in order to get the other side. Of course the same is true for single father households. Depending on the gender of the child, receiving only a moms perspective can, while proving to be effective, be detrimental or not helpful. For instance, if my child was a boy, I would have no idea where to begin when it comes to masturbation. Lucky for me, I have a father and brother, who would be able to help, but without that benefit, I would be floundering around in space without my helmet.

Households with two parents means that there are two people to share the decision-making, two people to share the rule setting, two people to share the handing out of punishments, two people to share the carpool duties, snack runs, diaper changing, middle of the night feedings, parent teacher conferences, two people, in most cases, to earn the household income, two people to support each other when times get frustrating, two people to share the household management, and two people to field the questions. Simple math says, 2-1=1; One parent doing all of that, and hopefully managing to beat the  statistics: suicide, homelessness, education, criminal activity, abuse, addiction, teen pregnancy, behavioral problems, and runaways.

So far, I think I’m doing pretty good. T is almost eighteen and headed to college once she graduates from high school, she hasn’t made me a grandmother yet (knock on wood), isn’t a convict, addict, and has beat all of the other statists, but by far the most amazing thing she has done, was to make me a mother; her mother.

I said it once before, and I will say it again; being a single mom is hard work, everyday, but at the end of everyday, we have the amazing knowledge that we have created someone beautiful, who is ours and ours alone. Wether you share custody or not, you are responsible for putting the best impression of yourself out into society for others to see and know. Congratulations on surviving, and don’t give up, it is hard, but it is worth it no matter what the trials that got you here.

Happy Mother’s Day and Until next time…

 

SNEAK PEAK… Always & Forever

My new book is going to be titled; Always & Forever. It is a modern-day love triangle with some twists and turns. Currently it is not finished, but in the works.

Here is a preview to get your appetite up…

I can feel Ian’s breath on my face, minty and warm… “I missed you today”

After one more deep breath I open my eyes and give a little smile “I know”

The first touch of his lips to mine is whisper soft, gentle and sweet. Then before I know it the pressure increases and his tongue glides along my lower lip asking before taking my mouth in a possessive, bruising, punishing kiss. Ian’s erection presses into my core causing a moan to escape my mouth. Even through the thin material of his boxers and my sleep shorts I can feel it hot and throbbing… Ian skims one of his hands under my tank top his palm warm against my cool skin until he is cupping one of my breasts in his hand, rolling and pinching the nipple. I can’t help it my treacherous body responds and my back arches, Ian chuckles lightly as he licks my lips and says “I know what my girl likes” before he returns to my lips grinding his erection into me harder.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that this shouldn’t be happening I know that I need to stop this because it’s not going to make what I will say to Ian tomorrow any easier. Dirty. I feel so dirty. But it feels so good. I find myself getting lost in the moment and just before I spiral out of control I see the most piercing blue eyes looking into my soul and that’s the clarity I need to put my hand over Ian’s, stilling his movements. “Ian…” god why couldn’t that have come out a little less breathy. “Please…” what can I say…. “I don’t want the girls to hear us.” I watch a few different emotions frustration, annoyance, anger, and understanding?  Cross his face before he smiles that heartbreakingly beautiful smile, smacks a playful kiss on my lips and says “that’s why we sleep at my place remember?” oh yes… I remember all right. With that Ian slides off of me and pulls me into his arms wrapping himself around me, my head on his chest.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep is thinking that I am going to miss having this at night; the feeling of contentment, with someone to cuddle up against.

Hot. Why am I so hot? Oh… Yes… The soft warm breathes on my neck and the vise like grip around my ribs and legs makes me remember. Ian. Slowly turning my head to look at the clock on my nightstand I sigh softly, it’s only six o’clock. Ian has practice at eight. I’m so tired. I had the worst dreams about how this would go down with Ian. I have to wake him up. We need to talk. This isn’t something I can just tell him right before he walks out of the door. What am I going to say? …. “Babe, why are you awake so early?” I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn’t even notice Ian had woken up. He places a soft kiss on my neck and it just makes me feel even more terrible than I already do.

“I was hot and couldn’t sleep any longer” it’s a flimsy excuse, I know.

He chuckles softly and pulls me tighter into his body, every inch of his hard male form is flush against my body….”Ian there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” as he loosens up on his grip he gives me a sleepy smile before kissing me on the lips “good morning beautiful.”

I can’t help but smile, a weak smile but a smile nonetheless “good morning.”

It takes me a few more heartbeats before I can bring myself to start. With reluctance, I pull myself away from Ian and slide out of the bed. Ian of course rolls onto his side and watches me pacing the room all of his nakedness, well practically naked, staring me in the face. Pull it together Georgina… You can do this… You have to do this.

 

“Ian…. I….” shit shit shit. I can’t do this…. “I love you. I know that you know this and I just want you to know that I will always love you…” Ian opens his mouth to say something but I put up my hand to stop him “… We have been here before and I wish more than anything that I could feel differently but I can’t…” before I can finish the next thought Ian is off of the bed standing in front of me, pissed off.

“No. No Georgina. I know what your about to say and the answer is no.” That one word Norings through my ears and bounces around in my brain, pinging off of every corner. I should have expected this, should have know this is what would happen.

Bracing my self for the wrath of Ian I say “Ian, please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. You and I have tried to make things work and while I appreciate all of your efforts and recognize that you are happy with where we are, I…” placing my hand on my chest to help drive the point home “…I am not… I…” moving faster than I have ever seen him move Ian has his hand around my upper arm squeezing so tightly, pulling me into the bathroom “ow, Ian your hurting me! Let go!”

Using his foot he pushes the bathroom door closed and then spins me around so my front is against the door and he pushes me harder against it using his body, his lips next to my ear “we seem to find ourselves in this position quite frequently these days G. Why is that?” Ian, who has both of my hands in his, raises them above my head clasping his right hand around both of mine, pinning them to the door. His left hand slowly skims down my left arm grazing the side of my breast his thumb gliding over my nipple through my thin tank top before moving lower to the hem of my top “You love me G, and the world knows that I love you. I will do anything G, anything to keep you” with that his hand slips under my top and slides down into the front hem of my shorts.

I know Ian would never do anything to intentionally hurt me but when he gets like this “Ian…” his name comes out on a sob, tears slip slowly down my cheeks. “Please Ian. I do love you but I need…” with a gasp my body reacts to Ian’s touch as his fingers slip into my folds, pressing deep….

“Me. Georgina you need me. No one will ever be able to give you what I can and do. No one will ever be as good for you as I am and you are for me.” Ian’s lips brush against my ear and glide down my neck softly nipping on my vein with his teeth “we belong togeth…”

“There’s someone else.” it slips out of my mouth on a breathy whimper, his hand goes still and before I can regret saying the words Ian has me turned around his hands retuning to my upper arms, squeezing so hard I can feel my hands starting to tingle. Waves of pure fury are pouring off of Ian, his face is cold stone and in this moment I am afraid of Ian like I have never been before.

A moment later my fear is validated when he slams me back against the door so hard that my head instantly starts to throb, oddly an eerie calm has come over Ian when he says “someone else?” his eyes are moving so fast searching my face, for what I’m not sure but my tears have sped up and my heart is racing.

“Ian, please… your hurting me.” I follow the movement of his eyes to his hands on my arms and as if an electric shock passed from me to him he practically throws himself away from me turning his back on me, I slide to my knees on the floor sobbing softly and rubbing some life back into my arms. The bathroom, which is small on a good day, seems suffocating in this moment. A million thoughts are racing through my mind right now “what am I doing. Am I truly making the right decision? Is he right? Oh god what have I done.”

Ian moves to kneel in front of me and without conscious thought; as he reaches for me I flinch away from him and for the first time ever I see tears sparkle in his eyes “Georgina.” Ian’s voice cracks on a soft whisper “I’m so sorry, baby I…” at that I let him pull me into his arms, he buries his face in my neck and we both sob softly.

I’m not really sure how long we sit there but at some point Ian’s tears have dried against my skin and my once frantically pounding heart has slowed my cheeks tight from my own dried tears, my nose stuffy. Ian breaks the silence first “I would never hurt you Georgina, I just. I lost my temper and I. I. I love you so much I can’t bear the thought of anyone else having what’s mine. Please tell me G, you don’t love him do you?”

Love him? I barely know him. With a resigned sigh I pull back from Ian as far as I can so I can look him in the eyes “no Ian I don’t love him. I barely know him.”

Something passes over his eyes so briefly that I’m not even sure I saw it but his arms stiffen slightly as he says “who Georgina? Who is it?”

Swallowing the lump in my stomach I try to steady my breathing but the onset of more tears makes that damn near impossible “Ian…”

“WHO?” Ian’s voice is so full of anger and hurt and his grip tightens on my waist causing me to jump in place. Dear god please let me get through this….

I respect Ian enough not to even try to make excuses or lie about what I did last night. For what I did when I knowingly brought Liam into this. For what I did when I crawled into bed with Ian after having spent an incredible night with another man. “I had dinner with Liam last night, that’s why I couldn’t see you and that’s why I didn’t call you back.”

To my utter horror and complete surprise, Ian laughs at this. “Oh Georgina… my sweet, sweet, naive Georgina. Do you really think Liam wants to get to know you? Do you really think Liam wants anything from you except a quick fuck and a blowjob? For gods sake Georgina, Liam is playing you for a fool…” his words are like a slap in the face. An ice-cold bucket of water dumped on my naked body. Like a razor blade, carving tiny lines, into my skin. I’m stunned speechless “… He probably has a girl in every town he visits. Did you honestly think he wanted to truly get to know you so you could what? What Georgina?” his words are coming harsh and biting, lashing against my already fragile nerves “did you think he would fall in love with you and the two of you could date each other while he is overseas women throwing themselves at him while your here, alone, watching from the sidelines? Did you honestly think you could have forever with a man who will use you when he wants to and set you aside when he doesn’t? Did you think maybe if your faithful and devoted to him while he is away that maybe he would marry you, oh and he will be away Georgina, this I can guarantee. Liam doesn’t play for the MLS or for the US national team. Liam plays in Europe but let me guess; he filled your head with all sorts of pretty images last night, didn’t he? He told you how beautiful you are and how much he wants to get to know you and because I know you, you were skeptical and he said…. He said you two could make it work, didn’t he?”

All I can do is nod my head. I feel like I want to vomit. I feel like I have crawled in my own personal version of hell. Liam has never spoken to me this way and quite honestly I know I should say something, stand up for myself, defend what little Liam and I have or could have but maybe Ian is right? Maybe I am being a fool but the fact of the matter remains. With that thought I find a little bit of strength, enough to say in my still small and slightly shaky voice “we may not have all of the details worked out and I may be all of what you just called me but I am not stupid Ian. I don’t expect anything from Liam, I barely know him.” with each word that comes out of my mouth my resolve strengthens and my words become a little less shaky “Liam isn’t the reason why I am putting a stop to this” motioning with my hand between the two of us “Us. You and I. That’s why I am putting an end to this. I am not happy and I haven’t been for a while. Last spring was only the beginning and it just keeps getting worse for me and instead of doing this a few months ago I just… I just let it go and now…” taking a deep breath for composure I continue “… Now it may be to late to salvage anything that we could have had. Look at what just happened Ian. It’s not the first time and I know it wont be the last time. This is toxic and I cant keep letting you…” on a broken sob I continue, “touch me physically this way.”

“Could have had?” Ian smiles at me and it’s one of those shit eating grins that means he has a plan and I’m one hundred percent certain I am not going to like what he says at all. Of course it doesn’t escape my notice that he ignored everything I just said about his physical contact words me.

“I beg to differ Georgina. There is a lot that you and I will have after this because Liam, you will get over him. You and I have more than any two people in love before us have ever had. You and I will be together again, of this I am positive.” With that last sentence Ian stands up and looks down at me, showing his tender loving side for the first time since his good morning kiss earlier by holding his hand out to help me up. I take it and once I’m standing Ian who is looking down at me directly in the eyes runs his finger tips across my left cheek bone before leaning in and placing the softest whisper of a kiss on my lips. “I love you Georgina and I am going to fight tooth and nail to keep you. Be prepared.” And with that Ian brushes past me and into my room.

I find myself standing there in the middle of my bathroom when the sudden urge to brush my teeth comes over me. Reaching for my toothbrush and the toothpaste I catch a glimpse of my self in the mirror. Swollen and puffy eyes ringed in red. Red tipped nose and flushed cheeks. My mother would have a fit if she saw me right now. My mother. I don’t even want to think about what is going to happen when my mother finds out about this. I end up brushing my teeth twice. By the time I make it back into my bedroom, Ian is gone and the sweet smell of bacon fills the air.

 

Follow-up to… (C)RUSH

This morning, after reading yesterdays blog about having a crush, and that crush being out of my league; so on and so forth, a very good friend of mine, from here on known as “S”, sent me a message.

The message that S sent, included a quote she had come across from a third-party source, reminding her of my blog post. It goes as follows:

“Stop for just one second. Think about all of the people you have secretly had a crush on. All of the people you’ve found attractive, but never said anything to. Every stranger you have temporarily fallen in love with on public transportation. All of the people you’ve dreamt of at night, and thought of in the early mornings. And now take a moment to realize, that you have been this person for so many people. And you have no idea.” 

This quote is everything! Especially the last two lines because, as much as we may speculate against them, they are true.

Honestly, it is hard to think of myself as someone else’s secret crush or thinking of someone else temporarily falling in love with me, but it doesn’t make it any less factual. I am that someone for someone else. I know that I am beautiful, inside and out, I know that I have a beautiful soul and heart. I know that I am deserving of love. Sometime it takes reminders from my family and friends, but at the end of the day, as much as I want happily ever after to happen as soon as humanly possible (I’m impatient that way), I was reminded last night, at “Margarita Monday” with another friend, “L”, that THE ONE, will come along at the right time and the right place. There is no forcing this meeting, and as “S” went on to tell me, by truly living my best life, for myself, and not just existing, the rest will follow.

Some food for thought on this cool Tuesday morning.

So next time we are temporarily falling in love with someone else from across the room, stop for just one second and remember, someone is temporarily falling in love with you from the other side of the room. And who knows, maybe the person you are falling in with, is the same person falling in love with you. Wouldn’t that be spectacular?

Until next time…

(C)rush…

I Imagine there is a boat for people like me. Maybe even an island, one where your every desire is met the instant you think it. It would be the universes way of “making it up to you“; the fact that your crush didn’t like you back.

People like me, are people who have or have had, a crush on someone who doesn’t know you exist. Or maybe they know you exist, but there isn’t a chance that this person would like you back, because they are way out of your league. Like the nerd who is in love with the super model, or the book-worm who is in love with the corporate CEO, or how about the chubby person in love with the gorgeous life of the party. So many different scenarios fall under the “out of my league” category, like we are talking football leagues or something. It all sounds stupid now that I am sitting here writing this, but let me tell you something; last week working in a hotel bar, and seeing all of the people walking around, and again the other day, sitting in close proximity to my own crush, it all makes sense in a socially unjust way. Or maybe it’s all in our own heads, and we just need to love ourselves more.

Last weeks blog post was about the solo traveler, which I was (kind of) last week. For a little background, I traveled to New Orleans with a friend who was there for a conference. While she was in conferences all day, I either walked the quarter for some sunshine and air, sat by the pool to work, or in one of the two hotel bars to work. Anyways, in my blog post last week, I mentioned that it would be nice if I bumped into “Mr. Right” while on the road, or something to that effect. Unfortunately, it did not happen, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t plenty to choose from, married men aside, except I kept telling myself that they were out of my league, and to stop looking.

It seems that most people (those I encountered), not born and raised in New England, are taller and thinner. To confirm I wasn’t just projecting, I asked a few of my fellow New England travelers, who confirmed that they noticed it to. It seems that New Englanders are build heartier in order to withstand the harsher winter conditions, whereas people from the South and West, are not. Upon my arrival home, I noticed that people I know personally, who were not born and raised here, are on average, taller and thinner than those who are second, third and even fourth, generation New Englanders. For the record, I was born in New England, raised in California from kindergarten to high school, moved back to New England in high school, and am still here (that’s another story for another day). My mom is a third(+) generation New Englander, and my dad, who was born in Africa, was raised in the South to parents from Nova Scotia, and the South (I think). No, I did not inherit my dads hight or body type, except my bone structure, which is smaller than my mom’s side. For your frame of reference, I am 5’1 in height, weigh about 226 lbs (I can’t believe I’m putting that on the internet), I am very fair-skinned (I invest in sunscreen), naturally have dark auburn hair and hazel eyes.

Now that you know what I’m working with, let me get to my point, So last week while I’m walking around and working, as a single heterosexual woman, I naturally paid attention to the men around me, and found more often than not, I was telling myself that they were out of my league. Thinking back on why I said this to myself, it could have been because they were mostly tall, handsome men, dressed in business suits. You know, the Christian Grey type (HA)… Some of the men were so tall that I could have been an arm rest for them. Some were so handsome, it hurt to look at their faces. Some were just plain gorgeous, and I couldn’t stop looking. From what I heard, having been in closer proximity, some were so intellectual and intelligent, I was lost and decided to focus on the sound of their voice.

What made me decide that they were out of my league, was when I pictured us standing next to each other in a mirror; they were just so much more. They were from the “beautiful people” group and I was not. I don’t have self-esteem issues. I know I am pretty, smart, funny, and would make a good catch for any guy. It wasn’t always like this though, and after a lot of self-improvement, loosing 130 lbs. (gaining 50 back), and realizing that I am a “beautiful people“, because we all are, I regained my self-esteem, but that doesn’t mean that old insecurities, don’t creep up from time to time. Which accounts for my thinking that these men are out of my league.

Which accounts for why I think that my current crush, is out of my league. Oh yes, I said it here folks; I have a crush on someone. This someone, who shall remain nameless, has no idea that I have a crush on them, to my knowledge, and isn’t a close friend, but more like an acquaintance. So the other day, I’m sitting in close proximity to this person, and thinking about all of the, rated (PG), things we would enjoy doing together, when I hear them say that their current love interest is on a date with someone else. Belatedly, I realize that my crush could be in the same boat, on the same island as me, however this is about me right now.

Once I hear this, I immediately revert into my “he’s out of my league” mantra, and start listing all of the reasons why; taller, cooler, smarter, handsome, not their type. Then I move onto thinking about who they would be interested in; taller, thinner, cooler, prettier, smarter. I should mention, that I have no clue what the other woman looks like, for all I know, she could look just like me, except not me. So now I’m left feeling jilted by a person who has no idea that they even jilted me, and wondering why “having a crush” is even a thing. It seems like a pointless waste of time designed to force us into self-examination, and introspection. We do this enough as it is. Maybe instead of “having a crush” on someone, we should come clean with them and say, “I like you. Would you be interested in seeing if you like me too?” Whats the worst that can happen? They say “no.” But what if they say “yes”?

I’m not nieve enough to understand that this tactic opens up a whole other can of proverbial “creepy crawlies” if they say “no” or if things don’t work out after the “yes.” I suppose I’m looking at it from a time management standpoint; as a single woman in my early forties, do I have time for a crush, time to pine over a guy who has no clue I’m even pining after him? Not exactly. I need to be out cultivating relationships with the hope that one of them will be “THE ONE“, and we can settle down into our happily ever after.

Obviously, I’m good at giving advice, but not taking my own advice. If I do decide to follow my “time management” route, I’ll let you know. If you decide to follow my advice, good luck, and please let me know.

Until next time…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The (Solo) Traveler

There is something to be said for traveling solo, or as my friend B says, “not having to carry her kids crap.” Not having to keep track of multiple people, and their belongings, you know making sure someone doesn’t slip something into your bag when you’re not looking (I had to put that in for all the TSA people out there). How about the lack of “travelers stress”; when you start freaking out because you have five minutes to get to a gate clear across the airport, and your toddler can’t keep up.

My favorite is, not having to argue about what we are doing, where we are eating, and when we will be there.

Of course as a solo traveler, you are on your own time frame as well. If you want to sleep until noon, and eat lunch by the pool, do it. If you want to sit on the beach all day, and then explore at night, do it. Perhaps the best part, is finding that amazing view from the mountaintop. You know the one that looks out over the crystal blue waters of the Balinese sea, lush green forests behind you, vibrantly colored flowers to the left, the smell of salt, and jasmine floating on the light, warm breeze? Yeah that’s the one. It’s here that you can sit for hours, taking it all in, silently reflecting on life or making decisions about your future. Without any companions, there is no need to rush this mental process. There is no need to worry about the other person being bored or making too much noise for you focus on you. There is no inherent curiosity about what the other person is thinking.

Not to forget about the social aspect of traveling solo verses with others. Depending on your personality, the solo traveler is more apt to engage in conversations with strangers around them (see below). In my years of knowing several people who like to travel solo, some of these random conversations at the dive bar in Mexico, have forged life long friendships that reconnect over a beer, at the local watering hole in Jamaica. Whereas travelers who have their spouses and/or kids with them, tend to be absorbed in their immediate goings on, and less likely to spark up a convo with the person at the table next to them.

Of course this is assuming that your solo travels are for pleasure and not business.

While there are many benefits to traveling solo, it can also be a lonely experience. If you are married or have a boy/girlfriend, you miss them. Maybe you don’t miss the relationship responsibilities, but I think everyone misses the companionship that comes with being in love.

For me, when I used to travel with my ex, there was nothing better than being squished into a three-person airplane row, snuggling up to him while he worked on his laptop (he always let me have the window seat). Walking around, holding hands, knowing that someone else was there to laugh with, share food with, take selfies with, enjoy moments like the mountain top with, sleep next to… and maybe “other stuff”, as B says. Of course my asking the question about what she misses about her husband, while traveling without him, prompted her to tell me a story (voice exaggeration and all (which she is famous for)), about this guy that her and her husband saw, during a connecting flight in NY. This guy looked like he had just stepped off of a yacht, and was on the phone talking to “Eduardo” about renovations, and louvers on his house. Now every time they hear the name “Eduardo” she thinks back on this moment, and the laughs her and her husband had over it.

FYI… I’m currently on a plane headed for New Orleans with my friend B. Not wanting to leave the guy sitting next to me out, (yes, I’m squished in the middle), I asked him the same question I asked B. His response was way better than, “and stuff”. He apparently also has three kids, and the worst part of traveling solo (for business) for him, was knowing that he will get to see, and experience things that they will not. Naturally, this makes me think about T, and all of the stuff she will not get to see this week. She is, of course in school, but this trip was also supposed to be for work, before I resigned. No sense in wasting an already paid for trip!

While there is a certain amount of happiness that can be found from traveling solo, I believe there is more happiness to be found in experiences shared with those you love. Like my friend B, later on when you reminisce on your travels, and tell the funny story about the guy from the yacht, your travel partner can lend credibility and content, to make the story funny for all, and not more of an “it was funny at the time” story. Disclaimer – I did laugh at B’s story because her voice imitations are hilarious!

On another note about traveling solo verses with your significant other, for me, it reminds me that I am solo, in the aspect of a love relationship, all the time. Which of course makes me think about my Matchprofile, which I haven’t touched in a month. Why? Maybe it’s because there hasn’t been any quality contact from prospective love interests. Maybe it’s because I have already resigned myself to the fact that Matchis clearly not going to give me a second chance at love. Or maybe, it’s because I haven’t been on there in a month to update anything or to swipe right, or left. In any case, I have already decided that it’s going to happen, but through more traditional means. I’m talking about the accidental “bumped into him” in the grocery store, or at the gym. Maybe this solo (with B) trip to NOLA, is going to yield some results. Wouldn’t that be fantastic? You will know either way when next weeks blog comes out. It will be titled either, Solo No More or Solo To The Max.

Safe travel to all, solo or not!

Until next time…

Losing mom…

You never expect that your mom. the woman who gave birth to you, will one day have to ask you where you were born.

Or that one day your roles will be reversed. Instead of her shuttling you back and forth to playdates, birthday parties, etc.., you would be driving her on errands, doctors appointments, etc..

What about how you thought dealing with child like attitudes ended when your own daughter grew out of “it”. Instead you now deal with those same, and sometimes worse, child like attitudes from your sixty-two year old mother.

When you watch your mom sometimes struggle to find the right words during a conversation.

What do you do when your mom tells you that she is afraid to be home alone? Or how about when your mom says everyone would just be better off if she killed herself?

What about when you are sitting in your mom’s doctors office and she tells you that there is a chance this is Familial Alzheimer’s disease; your maternal grandmother had it, your mom has it, and you and your daughter may have it; testing is difficult, but this would possibly explain the early on-set of the disease in your mom, and maybe for you.

This is my reality, this is my daughters reality, this is my brothers, and my fathers reality to. I suppose no one expected it, which is why we are all struggling in our own way to figure out how to deal with it, how to deal with her; kid gloves or no kid gloves.

Watching my dad struggle to find his own way to deal with my moms illness is sad, and frustrating at times. My dad is the type of person who has very little patience for certain attitudes, and behaviors. He obviously lacks that maternal care giver instinct, but he also expects common sense behavior from everyone, he doesn’t tolerate stupid behavior or pointless repeat conversations. All of which he is now forced to deal with from his wife, the woman he married forty-two years ago. He has now become the husband who is slowly losing the woman he married because she is slowly loosing her mind. It is inevitable that at some point, she won’t remember who he is. She won’t remember their wedding day, or the day they welcomed their first-born (me) into this world, or even their second born, or any of the other events they experienced together. What happens when he is forced to put her in a full-time care facility because her illness is beyond him, beyond my brother and I.

While my dad is experiencing his own heartache over my moms illness, my brother is doing what he always does; avoids and deflects. Don’t get me wrong, out of all of us, my brother has the most sympathy; minus the understanding, for what my mom is going through. He takes her to lunch a few times a month, watches her ridiculous reruns with her, but when push comes to shove and things start getting dicey, he avoids and placate’s. Does anyone really know how to deal with a parent who has early onset Alzheimer’s, especially if that person lacks empathy? My brother is many things, empathetic is not one of them. Again, don’t get me wrong, my brother is a good person, an awesome uncle, an infuriating but great brother, however I sometimes question whether, when shit gets really real, will he be able to hang tough and provide the proper support for my mom. Will he be able to control his own emotions, be rational and mature? I suppose only time will tell.

As a teenager preparing for college, and life as a growing individual, my daughter tends to do what teenagers do; avoid and redirect themselves. T has no problem hanging out with her Grammy, watching tv and just being there physically, however being mentally present is the missing element. Although my mom probably doesn’t even notice because she, like T, is absorbed in her phone playing games while the tv provides ambient background noise. In this way, they are more alike than they ever could have been before, and when things get tense, T removes herself from the situation, not because she wants to avoid the moment, but because she hasn’t figured out a way to internalize her feelings with the situation. It is heart breaking, on a whole new level, when you go from tough love with your mom, to emotional support and a shoulder to cry on with your daughter. All when you haven’t had time to process your own thoughts and emotions, but instead compartmentalized them; filing them away for review later.

Where my brother lacks empathy, I have it in spades. Spending as much time with my mom as I do, I’m fortunate that she will, sometimes, discuss her feelings with me, which gives me an insight into why she does and says the things, and behaves the way she does.  Which you would think makes me more sympathetic to her plight. On the contrary, while I am sympathetic, I am also angry. In previous posts I have mentioned that my mom and I never really had that traditional “mother/daughter” relationship. She didn’t teach me how to put make-up on, she didn’t talk to me about my first time having sex, she didn’t talk to me about love and what it means to love another person, she didn’t take me prom dress shopping or discuss the importance of a good pedicure, and we didn’t bond over my becoming a mother when I was pregnant. It is unclear to me exactly what I was expecting as I got older, but at some point I was hoping that things would change. That as we both got older, maybe we would bond more. Maybe she would someday help me plan my wedding, maybe we would someday have that relationship that we were missing for so long. To say that I feel slighted by life, in terms of my relationship with my mom, would be completely accurate. I am not nieve enough to realize or understand, that we are building a different type of relationship, but I want the other one to. Is that too much to ask for? Apparently it is.

As I read more and more about the three stages of Alzheimer’s, I realize more and more that the relationship I longed for, for so long, is gone and will never exist. This is one reason I always vowed to do things differently with T, and now, I’m more thankful for that than ever. Part of me is so happy that if, hopefully not when, I develop this stupid disease, T will have all of those memories I longed for with my mom, and will be able to share them with me, when I can no longer remember them for myself. On the other hand, it breaks my heart that someday my own daughter, may have to take care of, deal with the ups and downs, and handle me the way we are now with my mom.

Life isn’t fair, I know this. We are all dealt a certain lot in life, how we deal with that lot defines us as human beings. When I share my story, I’m not looking for sympathy, pity or anything of the sort, I’m just simply sharing my story.

Alzheimer’s is a terribly nasty disease that, every sixty-five seconds, takes over another Americans life. There is no cure for it, only methods to “slow” the progress of symptoms. Currently my mom is participating in a twelve month clinical trial to test a drug that could slow the progression, if not stop the disease altogether. We don’t know if she has the control or placebo, but if I had to guess, it’s not the control. Which adds to the sadness of her story, her life, and that of her family.

Hold them close and hope for the best, even on the bad days.

Until next time…