A Day in the Life

I ventured out for a drive yesterday for the first time since March 22, 2020.  I thought I needed a change in scenery even if I would enjoy it alone.  I loaded up my arms with my Clorox wipes, my hand sanitizer and my camera and went to the Dog Park.  The picture above is of a man at the Dog Park.  He was dressed in his finest "hazmat" gear while taking his dog for a walk.  These are the times we are living in.  This is the fear that has become associated with Covid-19.

I got out of my car and kept far more than my 6 foot social distance from people.  I got to take pictures of people adhering to social distancing and some who had a complete lack of regard for the distancing order.  In fact, I saw a group of 6 teenagers at the park, shoulder to shoulder, eating McDonald's food.  It saddened me that they were blatantly disregarding the order.  Young people (teenagers) never think bad things will happen to them, but they do.

As I drove around Mosquito Park I couldn't help but notice that the place was virtually empty.  There were no boats docked at the marina and the Concessions were closed.  Everything was closed.  The park looked desolate except for the few fisherman who were enjoying their social distancing order.

We live in a different time right now and I'm not sure it will ever be the "way it was" again.  I think that we may be forever changed.  We are living a dreadful part of history that is bound to change the way we view things in the future; it's bound to change us.

Being at the park was wonderful.  It got me out to enjoy the fresh air and watch people interact under this Social Distancing order; but I had to get home after spending an hour and a half at the park.  I had a very important meeting at 5:00PM.  It was a date I couldn't miss; a date that I had been anticipating for 2 days.  I was meeting up with 3 friends for wine (lots of wine), cheese, crackers and grapes.  It would be a virtual meeting via Zoom, but a meeting where all four of us would be together.

The Zoom meeting was awesome!  We spend 4 1/2 hours together and it seemed like minutes.  We talked about good times and not so good times.  We talked about memories that this Covid-19 will never be able to rattle.  For a few hours, the novel Coronavirus was in the background and our friendship was in the forefront.  You see, we were all suppose to meet up in Colorado at the end of April because we all live in different states.  The plans were made and the itinerary was set, but those plans were thwarted by the evil enemy we now face.  It was a sad realization that we wouldn't be seeing each other as planned.

We did not grow up with computers and Face Time or Skype, we grew up with telephones and they weren't mobile either.  We stayed in touch by seeing each other face to face on almost a daily basis.  We kept in touch and knew almost everything about each other.  We shared good times and bad times.  We shared hopes and dreams and our future plans.  Never, did we think that we would be separated by circumstance but we were.  The Zoom meeting was just what all of us needed.

Yes, we may have drank a little too much wine, and we may have whined a little too much but for a brief period of time it felt like we were together in the same room enjoying the same food.  The only thing lacking was that human contact that I think we have all come to realize that we need so much.   

Does Social Isolation Lead to Social Distortion?

I can't remember the last day I was out of my house. I have my groceries delivered and my children go out and get the medication I need (or the dogs need).  I know for certain I have been home since the STAY AT HOME order delivered by Governor DeWine and Dr. Amy Acton.  That is my contribution to saving lives.  I do what I am told in this uncertain time of this pandemic.  I do get to watch out my window though and wonder where the lines of cars are going.  I imagine they are going to an essential job or to the grocery story to get needed items.  I can't imagine that these people are going out shopping for enjoyment's sake, are they?  I do wonder why these cars have two adults with multiple children in the cars.  Can't one parent stay at home while the other does the essential running?  I'm not in their particular circumstances so I don't really know what they are thinking so I'll just judge my own behavior and not other's behaviors. 

I have to admit, there has been more than one time I have thought that we may be facing a Microbe Armageddon.  This enemy has got us fighting a foe that can't be blasted with guns or weapons of mass destruction; it has to be fight with time and intelligence.  It has to be treated aggressively while not splattering it all over the universe.  Slowly but surely we must encapsulate this aggressor and get rid of the potential things that make it flourish.  Suffocating its lifeline can be accomplished by social distancing. The problem is that social distancing sounds too easy, until you actually try to do it.  Social distancing is not to be confused with social isolation.  Social distancing is keeping a safe, physical distance between people; social isolation is keeping an unhealthy distance mentally between you and those you interact with on a semi-regular basis.  Facetime, Skype, Zoom are just a few ways to stay in contact the best you can with those you care about.  Doing those types of social media helps break the solitude one feels when having to stay at home alone. The worst isolation is if you live alone and don't get to see ANY human contact because of social distancing.  This type of distancing without a virtual face can lead to extreme lonliness; maybe even social distortion.

In all of my 63 years, I have never seen our future so bleak in many ways but still with the hope that we will not succumb to this pandemic completely.  We have to be smart.  We have to do things we don't want to do.  We have to stay away from people we love and care about in an effort to keep them healthy and alive.  Currently there are over 2500 cases of Covid-19 in the state of Ohio with 18% not in the ICU and 8% in the ICU with 65 deaths in Ohio.  The CDC describes our co-morbidities as greater than 65, those that reside in nursing homes, lung and heart disease, diabetes, immunocompromised (including smokers), just to name a few.  Even if these things are controlled, you are at risk but if you don't care about yourself, you still are risking other lives even if you feel "great." 

I want to come on top of this a victor.  I will do my best to STAY AT HOME and do my life saving activities there.  I can do something to stop this pandemic.  We can flatten the curve like Dr. Amy Acton says we need to do.  We can make this pandemic less toxic than it is right now by STAYING AT HOME and keeping your social distance.  

Front Liners

I want to take this opportunity to give a shout out to all the healthcare men and women who are on the front line of this Covid-19 pandemic.  These men and women are fighting for OUR lives while they risk their own.  I am humbled before them.    

TMH - A thing of the Past

https://seemeye.com/2020/03/31/tmh-a-thing-of-the-past/

SHUT IN

I don't think I can take another day of being shut in my house; but the governor says it's the best thing I can do to contribute to the safety of Ohio.  While my friends in the Emergency Department and ICU are fighting on the front lines, I'm at home thinking up things to do to pass the time.  The Paramedics and EMT's fight through the lines of disease to care for people and I sit at home and watch Untold Stories of the ER on the television when I'm not watching updates about Covid-19.  I have to keep telling myself that I'm a front line defender by staying home and keeping my small part of Ohio safer by not spreading the disease.  But the thing is that I don't have the disease.  I don't have any of the symptoms but I self quarantine anyway.

I think of all the people in the ER, ICU, Paramedics, EMT's working without a fresh mask to cover their face.  They have to be content to cover their face with a week old surgical mask or a mask that has been cleaned.  It angers me that it has got this far.  Didn't we learn from China or Italy?  Didn't we watch as their PPE (Personal Protection Equipment) diminished.  Should we have started developing things to protect us before we got to this?  Why are we so far behind the 8 ball. Did we think that white privilege would be granted a reprieve from this illness?  Now we have a new name that's said so quietly it can barely be heard.  Shhhh, The United States has become the epicenter of the Covid -19 disease.  Don't say it too loud or some people might start to believe it.

My heart breaks for the first responders that have to put their life on the line every time they take care of a patient.  Covid -19 is so insidious that you can have the disease before you realize you have the disease.  Without the use of N95 masks, the spread of the disease will be high.  Just now, there is a plan in the future for health care workers to stay in hospitals/hotels/ etc. if they have been exposed to the Covid-19 virus.  Are they going to be quarantined their room? Will somebody that's able bring food to their room that they can cook in a microwave?  I don't know how that's going to work.  It looks like a mess to me, but it all looks like a mess to me. 

How did we get into this condition?  Didn't we learn anything from China, Italy, Hong Kong?  Didn't we hear their cries of ventilator shortages, mask shortages and health care workers in harms way?  Did we think that it would not happen to us.  Right now we are trading products for masks and gowns, couldn't that have happened before this pandemic caught hold of us completely. 

The president wants this "gone" by Easter.  He says the country should be back to working order by then.  I too, wish the government would have this gone by Easter, but with Ohio stating that we will have 10,000 new cases a day by the end of April, beginning of May it doesn't look like this Easter Dinner is no going to be like the ones of the past.

I keep thinking, right or wrong, that we expected the Covid-19 virus not to affect us.  Somehow, we expected it to stay on "that" side of the country which isn't as wealthy as we are.  The problem is it's here now and what do we do with it as a country?  What can we do to contain the spread of this disease.

I can tell you I am one of those "high risk person" who had been healthy but shut in my house for over 2 weeks.  I have my dogs to talk to but they really only talk about what they want to talk about.  They don't do any adult talking.  I look forward to face timing with my children (adults) and that brightens up my day for awhile. I enjoy walking around my yard when there isn't anyone else out.  I even like taking out the garbage when I have too.  But with the rain, that has even been limited.

I do get out and drive which is my only "big girl" thing I do and I was surprised to find how many golfers were at the golfing range and how many teenagers were playing basketball at the local playground.  It maddens me that I have to stay in while others can go about their business as if nothing is wrong.  Where is the crack down on that?

I wrote this because I felt sorry for myself.  I once was a front line responder and now I am retired and don't get to "save lives."  But I did learn something from writing this article.  I may not be the nurse or the doctor on the front lines, I may not be the EMT or Paramedic, I many not be one of a host of medical professionals who risk their lives everyday to thwart this Covid-19 disease.  I am a front line stay at home-er.  I follow the recommendations so that YOU don't get sick.  I hope you are doing the same.

Merlin Comes Home

This is my little grand-dog Merlin.  In this picture he is 8 weeks old and looks way bigger than he actually is.  He's a little petite Doberman Pinscher; no, he's not a Miniature Pinscher.  We got the opportunity to pick him up yesterday just under the Ohio order to Stay at Home.  He's so delightful, he's so playful and he's so sleepy; all rolled up into one.

While I could go on and on about how beautiful he is and how his breath smells like puppy breath and how his little paws are so soft, I'm not going to do that.  I'm going to talk about his ear cropping.

That "cone" on the top of his head is there to protect his ears since they were just cropped last Saturday.  Generally, the dogs ears are cropped around 7 weeks old and are put up in that cone to protect the ears and start them on their upward journey that makes a typical Doberman look like a Doberman.  Cropping a Doberman's ears have a purpose.  They are meant to increase hearing and decrease infection.  The cropping and the subsequent posting take time, but in the end it gives Doberman's the regal look that is known as the American Kennel Club (AKC) Breed Standard.

I know there is a lot of controversy when it comes to cropping the Doberman's ears and my daughter (who owns Merlin) catches a lot of flack for having a puppy that has been cropped and docked.  But, what most people don't realize is that the cropping and docking is done by the breeder before you physically get to see your new puppy.  The cropping is done under anesthesia and experiences very little pain if any.  How do I know that?  They are groggy from anesthesia but not crying after the procedure.

Now let's talk about what I consider to be the human counterpart of cropping (in a loose sense) and that would be circumcision.  The doctor takes a loose piece of skin around the penis (Doberman's loose skin is around the ears) and cuts it back to help decrease the incidence of infection.  This procedure is done about 1-3 days after birth and involves a lot of wailing. Truthfully, I can't see much difference except one is a dog and the other is a fragile human being.

Another thing I don't get is why is it anybody's business if she crops his ears and docks his tail?  Maybe she's going to show him which she would not be able to do if those things were not done.  If the cropping and docking is done humanly, like any other surgery, why would it bother people? 
We rip out the internal organs of dogs and cats when we spay and neuter them but that is for the "greater good."  Maybe cropping is for the greater good.

I can say these things because I have two Doberman Pinschers.  One is cropped and one is not.  The uncropped Dobie always has a field of dirt in his ears from digging outside; the cropped Dobie's ears are clean and yet she digs in the yard too.

My uncropped Dobie is sometimes thought to be a big ole' hound dog and people don't fear him until I let people know what kind of dog he is.  With my cropped Dobie, there is never a doubt.  I didn't buy a hound dog, I bought a Doberman Pinscher - a regal looking dog with ears that stand proud.  My uncropped Dobie came home when he was 12 weeks old; too late to crop, but we love him still.

Muddy Dogs

The pitter patter of the rain on my roof gently woke me up today followed by my Doberman Pinschers who were eager to start their day off with food and a run in my muddy fenced-in yard.  They got both food and a run and I got a mess on my kitchen floor.  I think they like to run in the mud because they know when they come in they get rubbed down with a big towel.  I used to get upset about all the mud but I don't anymore.  They live here, they make me happy and they let me rub them down to contain the mud.  What's a little mud between dogs you love? 

Dogs can sneak into your soul before you even know they are in the house.  They can love you unconditionally even while you are still deciding if they are a good fit for your home.  Once caught by a dog, they never let you go. 

Toilet Paper Blues

Supplies are flying off the shelves in the grocery stores.  People are stocking up on all the essentials they will need to survive a 14 day quarantine.  What are the essentials?  Apparently toilet paper is way up on the list.  Toilet paper is more rare than a bar of soap used to do basic hand washing.  But that's okay.  As long as I can wipe my behind, I don't really need to wash my hands, do I?

In some ways, hoarding has become more important than social distancing.  The consumer will fight long lines in a store to get that extra roll of toilet paper; sometimes standing shoulder to shoulder to get the desired item and then come home and tell themselves they are self quarantining.  "I just went out for a few items I needed then I can home and washed my hands real good."  I think we are confused as to what is essential and what is not.  If I have 20 rolls of toilet paper and live alone, toilet paper is not essential.

What we need to find essential is social distancing.  We need to maintain our distance from other people.  I understand that this may be hard because we are social people; but we have to start containing this illness and it has to start with us.  On a telephone call someone said, "I don't have to worry because I don't get sick. I'm going about my life as I usually do."  Well, how nice for you, but to how many other people are you carrying the illness?  How many other people will suffer because you don't get sick?

There is a definite spectrum when it comes to COVID-19.  On one end of the spectrum there are those people who believe that this illness is Armageddon and we are living in the end times.  On the other end of the spectrum are those who believe that this is nothing more than a hoax.  Both ends of the spectrum can be dangerous.  Armageddon hoards toilet paper, the hoax doesn't social distance.  Both are a threat to our way of life.

I understand that our way of life has changed since the COVID-19 virus has infected our nation; it really couldn't have done otherwise.  The threat is real.  The fear we feel is natural and a direct result of us being a "thinking" animal.  It's that "thinking" that's going to make us survive this pandemic outbreak.

Here is my question.  If you have 20 rolls of toilet paper and your neighbor needed a roll, would you give it to him?  Would you share your stockpile of hoarded items with others who had none?  If your answer is yes, why hoard?  If your answer is no, well then...........

Me and Martin and John

I am a dreamer

I dream that the color of my skin doesn't bother the person standing next to me.

I dream that my sexual preference doesn't makes a difference to you

I dream that people will realize that the God you serve and the God I serve are the same; the difference is when we worship.

I dream that there be no more people riddled with poverty.

I dream that all disease would be cured.

I dream of a world filled with love and serenity.

I dream that there is no more hate.

I dream that all the guns would cease and all flags would fly freely.

I dream how much the earth could carry if we all would dream....dream for something that makes a difference.

I dream

Do you?

Love is Love

https://seemeye.com/2020/03/07/love-is-love/

Rocking Chairs of Dreams

Today I woke early and Bill was on my mind, as he usually is.  I sat in the chair that I always sat in which was across from the chair Bill always sat in, but his chair was empty again.  He and I would sit in our chairs, pray, meditate and search God's will in our lives.  It was a wonderfully spiritual part of our lives and I miss that so badly.  At the end of our "session," he's smile and say, "That's it," and then he's lean over and kiss me. I'd stand and kiss his bald head.  I loved that part of our morning. 

After praying and meditating we'd discuss the world's problems and iron them all out before breakfast.  Mornings were great here and I'm so grateful to have had so many years of them with Bill before he died.  Bill and I had a "pack."  When we both retired we would buy two wooden rocking chairs and set them out on our porch and grow old together.  We'd sit on our rocking chairs and discuss our children, our grand dogs, and our life in general.  That never happened and we never bought those rocking chairs.  We were close, but life took a deadly turn and the dream ended. 
Now I go to Cracker Barrel and places like that and look at all the rocking chairs lined up on their porch and think of all the times Bill and I could have had solving the nation's problems on our own rocking chairs.  I imagine we would sit on the porch, rocking back and forth while the wind chimes surrounding us would catch a breeze and play music for us.  He'd take my hand holding it that special way that only he held my hand.  The dream now is only alive in my brain.  I will never own a rocking chair to put out on my porch.  It's just not meant to be; but I'm okay with that now because I have so many other "real" memories that no one can remove. 

Bill was a sensitive man; a tender man, who rarely raised his voice to his children or me.  He always tried to reason out problems or conflicts.  He was a peacemaker and a man God truly loved.  Bill loved life and found blessings in almost everything; but he was real with God, telling Him when he was upset with Him and when he wanted things to go in a different direction than God planned.  But Bill and I had a saying which we ended with each prayer, "Your will God, not mine."  We both believed that our Higher Power knew what was best for us and what was going to happen down the road.  He had all the blueprints, we had only a piece and we tried to draft the whole blueprint from the tiny piece we were given. 

This morning is one of those mornings when I look at his empty chair and wonder why.  After almost two years, if I close my eyes, I can still hear his voice whispering in my ear, I can feel his soft lips on mine and I feel our two hearts beating together, then I open my eyes and it's all gone, except for the memory which will remain with me forever.  My throat fills with a lump I can't swallow away but no tears flow from my eyes today.  Not today, maybe tomorrow.

Alcoholism and Beyond

So, I was affected by someone else's drinking.  I'm not sure, but I think that's the first time I've come out and said it like that.  My husband drank alcoholically for 12 years of our 44 years together; and the drinking came 24 years after we began our relationship together.  His drinking blind sighted me.  It creeped up on me.  At first, all I could tell is that I didn't like the way he behaved when he drank, then I didn't like the way I behaved when he drank.  Then, I didn't like the way I behaved whether he was drinking or not.  At the end of his drinking and at the beginning of his sobriety, I'd criticize my husband at the drop of a hat; almost like it was my job to do so.  I began to hate the person I was and I blamed it all on alcohol, except I didn't drink.

I believe that alcoholism is a disease.  If you were to research, you'd find out that many public health organizations and experts believe that alcoholism is a disease.  That's not why I believe it's a disease.  I believe it's a disease because I've seen the devastation alcoholism can bring all the while the alcoholic can seem to do nothing to stop the destruction of his own life.  Alcoholism also has a familiar pattern to it as well.  Why is it that you see, so often, whole families consumed by alcoholism?  I think it is because it's a disease.  I think that some have the genetics to become a potential alcoholic while others will never become an alcoholic.  I am one that will never be an alcoholic, although I have tried.  I tried drinking myself into oblivion but was never able to reach that point in my drinking that I blacked out or altered my personality.  My obsession wasn't the alcohol it was the alcoholic.

I've given you a rough outline of the alcoholic but I'm really here to talk about me.  When the alcoholic in my life drank (or didn't drink), my personality slowly began to change.  I stopped being the fun-loving, impulsive person I was to a person who constantly was on guard "in case" the alcoholic drank.  I'd badger him about the amount he drank, what he drank, what he said, and how he behaved.  I'd badger him about the way he looked, the way he combed his hair, and what he wore.  The alcoholic in my life couldn't wake up in the morning without me badgering him about something.  I was always "on alert" so I could hide our family disease of alcohol.  I made excuses for him when he couldn't attend an event.  "He's not feeling well tonight and he couldn't come," when the truth was that he was drunk.  I kept my secret for a long time, but the truth was is that more people knew than I realized.  I was working hard at keeping a secret that most people who loved me and the alcoholic already knew.

Eventually, the alcoholic got sober through AA, which I am forever grateful for, but my behavior didn't change.  In fact it got worse.  He was "working his program" and getting all calm and meditative and it made me angry.  He did not deserve to have peace and serenity after all he had put me through.  He deserved to be full of the antithesis of calm and serene.  It wasn't until I found Al-Anon that I started to revert back to the person I was; but it has taken a long time and I'm still working on me.

Al-Anon has taught me that the alcoholic didn't do things to me because he hated or wanted to get back at me, he did those things because he was an alcoholic.  He did what alcoholics do, go through life like a tornado destroying everything in its path.  The good thing is that the destruction of a tornado can be rebuilt.  Al-Anon did that for me, it helped me rebuild me - not change the alcoholic.  I owe my sanity today to Al-Anon.

Maybe one day I'll tell you my Al-Anon story, but today I just wanted to admit that alcoholism played a major role in my life and I didn't even drink. 

I do want to say that I loved the alcoholic in my life.  He brought me a great joy both before and after he drank alcoholically.  If the truth be told and I looked real hard, even during the drinking years there was times he made me smile.

Post Hiatus

It's been eight years since I've written in this blog.  For awhile I changed over to Wordpress but now I'm going to attempt to write here and refresh this blog.

So a lot of things have happened in the eight years I've been gone but the two most notable things have been the death of my father in 2016 and my husband in 2018.  The death of these two men nearly destroyed me.

My father died suddenly in the hospital.  One minute he was up walking around and talking to us and the next minute he fell to the floor and had a cardiac arrest.  He was 84 years old but he was a "good" 84.  His mind was in tip-top shape and his body was better than most 84-year olds.  The week he died he was fixing my daughter's swimming pool.  The loss of. my father was so great that I had a "mini" break-down after all the arrangements were made, after the funeral was over, and after I took care of business.  I survived, but it was a rough couple of months.

The death of my husband so close to the death of my father was incredibly worse.  I can't explain how broken my heart was and still is.  I had never before felt such deep emotional pain.  I walked around for days not believing he was gone.  Like my father, my husband died suddenly in the hospital.  We were talking in the morning.  He was alert and happy.  He died suddenly that evening of a myocardial infarction.  On Friday he was working for his company and on Sunday he died.  I couldn't believe it.  My husband had lung cancer.  He was diagnosed in July and died in April.  Nine months from diagnosis to death.  I thought we'd have more time but the time we did have was priceless.  We were together for 44 years.  Some people don't get to live with their soul mate that long. I was still devastated when he died.  I'm still devastated now, after almost 2 years.

So now I live with my two Doberman Pinschers and memories.  Sometimes, for no apparent reason, I'll hear my husband's voice and I have to turn around to be sure he's not there.  There are rare times when I feel his lips on my forehead.  If I close my eyes and really concentrate, I can feel his breath on my skin.  When I close my eyes I can see his face before me....sometimes.

I think of my father every time I use a plastic glass that I bought for him so when the glass fell through his fingers it wouldn't shatter.  He always said that I was probably embarrassed when my friends came over and I served them in plastic glasses. I said no, of course I wasn't embarassed.   He'd smile but I'm not sure he believed me.  I'd have paper and plastic all over my house if it made him more comfortable about losing his grip; but losing his grip was something he really didn't like.

I am grateful for these and a multitude of other memories but they sadden me as well.  I miss both of them so deeply.  I miss both of them which leads me to miss my mother who died in 2000.  Death can be so consuming to those of us who are left behind.  Death reminds us that life is short and we are not invincible.

My husband lived life to the fullest, even after he was given a "death sentence" when he was diagnosed with Small Cell Lung Cancer (SCLC).  I know he'd want me to live my life to the fullest too but I can't seem to attain that right now.  Even after 22 months, I have to take things one day at at time.  Maybe one day, I'll be able to live the life my husband always said I should live.  For me to do that, I think I'll need the help of my Higher Power to get me there.

Can You Hear Me Now?

About a week ago my two daughters wanted my opinion on whether or not they should allow a friend of my youngest daughter to move in to their home.  In the past, I would have jumped at giving my opinion; after all I thought I was the only one with the right answers and if everyone would do as I say every body's life would be perfect.  I hesitated in giving my opinion because I am working very hard at allowing my grown daughters to make their own decisions whether they be right or wrong.  I told them both that they are grown women and certainly capable of making their own decisions but they insisted they only wanted my opinion.

This young man in question is an ex-drug user or maybe I should say an on and off drug user.  My youngest daughter has known him quite a long time.  They are good friends when he is clean, and not so good friends when he is using.  Right now, he is not using.  For the most part, I like him.  He is respectful, friendly and has a good heart - when he is not using.  I don't know exactly what he is like when he is using because he doesn't come around to let me see that side of him.  I only know what most people are like when they are actively using - they are less than trustworthy.

So, my daughters asked for my opinion.  Hesitantly I gave them my opinion prefacing it by saying, "This is only my opinion, you both are old enough to do what you think is best."  I listed all the reasons why I thought that him sharing their home would be a bad idea.  I told them that he is not working a program of recovery and the chances that he will use again may be great.  I told them that if they gave him a key to their house and he did start to use again all the locks in the house would have to be changed because, for the most part, drug addicts can not be trusted when they are using.  I asked them how they would handle him bringing women they do not know into their house because he wants to have sex with them?  I asked them if they realized that if he lived there the freedom they have in the evening and morning wearing just their "nighties" would be over.  I even mentioned that when people who are friends move in together oftentimes that is the end of a friendship forever.  Ultimately I think they understood clearly that I thought the idea was not a very good one.

They told him he could move in.

They told me their decision today at dinner.  I nodded affirmatively.  My throat tightened as I choked down my meal; my scream stuck in my throat.  My heart felt so heavy in my chest.  I'm ashamed to say I couldn't wait until dinner was over and then I couldn't wait for them to leave.

As I watched them pull out of the driveway my tears welled up in my eyes and then rolled down my cheeks.  I couldn't stop them.  My throat hurt from suppressing the screams I wanted so badly to shout out.  I wanted to call them and say, "Please, don't do this.  Please, you are making a big mistake."  I had to do it.  I couldn't stop myself.  I picked up the phone and called...my sponsor.

An immediate relief rushed over my body as I heard my sponsor say hello at the other end of the line.  I didn't waste any time.  The tears were flowing as I relayed what had just happened.  I told her I was scared.  I told her I wanted to tell them not to let him move in.  I told her that they asked for my opinion, I gave it and they didn't take it.  I told her I had to do something but I didn't know what to do.

When I finally shut up the phone was silent.  I waited for a couple of seconds.  My sponsor always pauses before she speaks to me when I'm upset.  I waited a couple of more seconds before I said, "Are you there?"  I could almost feel her warm smile as she responded, "Yes, I'm here."

What words of wisdom did she give to me?  She told me, "it sucks but we are powerless over other people's actions".  She said, "we want to get in there and run other people's lives because we think we know better than our Higher Power. It's easy to revert back to things that are "comfortable" but that doesn't mean those things are right.  Now that we know better we can do better".  She said that "it's not always easy to do the right thing".

I started to laugh.  Those thoughts were the exact thoughts I had expressed to my sponseee earlier today.  I said them to my sponsee but I obviously didn't hear them for myself.  I was so overcome by fear that I couldn't hear the words I spoke to my sponsee until my sponsor said them to me.

I'm feeling better now.  I've once again allowed my Higher Power to be in control of my life and the lives of my daughters.  I thought for a minute there He might have needed my help but I think He can handle it all on His own.  I'm sure there is a lesson in all of this; I just pray it's not too painful.

As always, let me mean it when I say, "Thy will, not mine, be done."

The Box Car

This morning, as I was catching up on my blog reading, I ran across this post about The Holocaust that put me back a few years to when I visited the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC.  I only had an "intellectual" understanding of the Holocaust; it wasn't until I walked through the museum that I more fully understood what others had endured.

All the knowledge of the holocaust I had was obtained by books and history lessons.  I listened as teachers taught about the horrible atrocities and listened when others said that "it never really happened."  I researched the  Holocaust in college so I could write an "A" paper on it.  I thought I knew a lot about what happened in Germany during WWII when Hitler reigned supreme.   I knew absolutely nothing until I walked into the Holocaust Museum.  The museum took my breath and heart away.

Inside of the museum, the events of Hitler's rise to power, WWII and the Holocaust are etched into one's mind by words, pictures and sound.  The stories of the soldiers, the spies, the governments, and the every day people are told in vivid black and white photography; there are no shades of gray in the photos.  I walked through the rooms wearing my leather shoes while looking at the mounds of shoes that were taken from the dead for their leather worth.  I walked through the rooms lit by fluorescent bulbs while gazing upon the lamp shades made from human skin.  Looking through my own eyeglasses, I saw the heaps of spectacles from those who had been annihilated in the gas showers; the rims kept for the metal.  As I walked through the rooms in the museum I was overwhelmed by grief.  These "things," the leather, skin, eyeglasses, were more valuable than the human who wore them.  The museum was consumed by all those who gave their life to build this monument to an era of history that so many wish they could forget.

I walked into the room that held the "symbols" of all those who had to be marked by the beast.  I saw an actual yellow star that had been pinned to a Jew.  I saw an actual pink triangle that marked a human as a homosexual.  I saw other symbols that labeled people as less than human.  I wanted to scream but I remained silent.

The family photos on the wall, the linen tablecloths, the children's toys all took on a somber meaning.  Once items of joy to a family were now memories of things they would never see again once taken from the ghettos. Even seeing each other was a day to day luxury; removed not by death but by hatred which would ultimately lead to their death or a painful memory if they survived.

I walked silently through each room that told the story of human lives until I came upon the train car that transported the "less than humans" from the ghettos to the camps.  My hands trembled as I looked at the outside of the box car.  I read about these box cars.  The history books tell of "hundreds" of people packed into a single car; standing room only, as they rode to their new home in the death camps.  I didn't want to go into the box car but my mind and my feet had already carried me in.

I stood silently as I looked around the small train car.  How could "hundreds" of people have fit into an area that was no bigger than a small hospital room?  How could "hundreds" of people stood for days to reach their destination.  How could "hundreds" of people survived the foul smell of human excrement?  How could "hundreds" of people handled watching those they loved die while standing next to them?  Could I have survived holding the dead body of a loved on up with my own body?

I don't know how long I stood there.  I don't know when the tears started to flow from my eyes.  I don't know when I began to hear the screams of the children crying out for their mothers and fathers.  I don't know when I felt the heat of the ovens. I don't know when I started to smell the rotting flesh.  I don't know when I started to feel the ashes from those men, women and children who were burned in the ovens fall on my flesh.  I don't know when all those sensations started but they stopped when I opened my eyes.  By opening my eyes I could stop all those feelings but those that endured the reality could never open their eyes and make it all go away.

I know some would like never to hear of these atrocities.  I know that some wish they could forget.  Maybe I have the luxury of being able to remember because I would never have been told to wear a yellow star or another identifying mark that would separate me from others.  I would not have been herded into a box car to be driven to my death.  In that time era, I would have been safe from the harm these people endured.....but what about the future?

"God helps those....."

Do I believe in a Higher Power because I think he can make my life easier?  Do I pray and mediate only on the material things I want Him to provide for me?  When I go to my Higher Power in prayer, do I even ask for others?

I have always believed in God but I kept Him in a box.  I had a narrow view and understanding of God but thought I knew Him intimately.  Until the effects alcoholism brought me to my knees, I only had a slight understanding of the Him and His abilities.  I believed the miracles that God performed, but I worshiped the miracles and not the Deity who enabled them to be performed.  I began searching for the miracles and not the relationship with a Higher Power who cared for me.  I stopped to worship the "sign" but never attempted to continue on the journey. 

In times of trouble, I never rested in the arms of my Higher Power, I always helped Him do for me what He could not quite accomplish on His own.  After all, "God helps those who helps themselves."  When I could no longer help myself, when all of my strength in conquering a problem was exhausted, it was then that I "allowed" my Higher Power to take over without my interference.  It was only in utter defeat that I let go of my problem and "allowed" a Power greater than me to take over.  Did I do it because it was the right thing to do?  No.  I did it because it was the only avenue left for me to take.  Now I am more apt to believe that "God helps those who can't help themselves."

Today, I woke up very humbled.  I am once again unsure of my relationship with my Higher Power. Please don't get me wrong.  I am sure of the relationship my Higher Power has with me, I am unsure of mine with Him. I do not want to be the person who goes to prayer and meditation because I want "things."  I want to go to prayer and meditation to have a greater and more intimate relationship with a Power greater than myself.  I want to be able to say from deep within me, "Thy will be done."

Bingo!

Many years ago, my mother would go to the nearest charitable organization about once a week and play bingo.  I thought the allure of playing bingo was the prospect of winning large amounts of money which is what brought the players back week after week; and for some that probably is, in fact, just the case.  As I look back on why my mother played bingo, I'm not sure that was her motivation.  She never complained about not winning money and when she won, she used to call it a "bonus."  I've been thinking about my mother a lot as of late and for some reason I started thinking about her bingo practices.  What was the allure of bingo for her?  

Last Saturday I called my brother and asked him if he'd like to go to bingo with me.  He chuckled at first and made the reference to mom and her bingo days.  After reminiscing, he said he'd like to go but he was in the middle of painting and he couldn't go that day so we made a date to go on Thursday.  I was excited and I gleefully told my daughters who in turn playfully ridiculed me about playing bingo.  "What are you Mom, like 80 years old?"  

Thursday arrived and my brother picked me up a little early so we could buy the necessary equipment and hopefully find out what we were doing.  It had been over 30 years since either of us had gone with our mother (at her request) to play bingo.  While waiting for the games to start, we studied our cards and tried to figure out the complicated game of bingo.  The woman sitting next to us must have been able to tell that we were new to the intricate dynamics of playing bingo so she graced us with her knowledge happily.  She was so happy to enlighten us with her bingo knowledge that neither my brother nor I felt it necessary to tell her that we had played bingo before; besides, we did need a good refresher course.

My brother and I must have looked like little children playing in a sandbox for the first time because another woman who was sitting near asked us if this was the first time we have played bingo.  After some light conversation with her she finally said, "It's good clean fun."  I agreed.

The games finally started.  I watched my cards, I watched my brother's cards; he watched his cards, he watched my cards and the ladies on either side of us who were playing multiple cards themselves watched our cards too.  We didn't win.  We didn't come close to winning.  So, why do I want to go back?

I learned that my mother was right, winning money would have been a bonus.  I want to go back because bingo allowed my mind to stay in the now without cares or worries of the past or the future.  Hmm, is bingo a form of meditation to me?  Was it a form of meditation to my mother?  I wonder.........

The Blessing of Despair

A new mother sat looking down adoringly at her 5 month old baby girl.  The child squealed delightfully on her mother's lap and the mother met her squeals with smiles.  It was when the mother looked up from her innocent child that her eyes and face told the story of the pain and anguish she was enduring.  She was angry and hiding it relatively well.  I could feel the turmoil radiate from her.  I wanted to jump out of my chair and hold her until all her pain fled; but once again the realization that I am powerless over the disease of alcoholism rushed over me.  I sat in my chair, trying desperately not to stare.  

The members of the Al-Anon group shared their experience, strength and hope and the mother remained silent.  She didn't shed a tear.  She desperately clung to the illusion that she was "fine."  We let her cling.  

I listened as the group shared.  Their stories were different but the same.  The stories were painful but these members, through the miracle of Al-Anon, could relate their experiences with laughter and hope.  I remember how terribly resentful I was at my first Al-Anon meeting because of the laughter.  I didn't understand that people could laugh while living through the disease and consequences of alcoholism.  In my mind, "those Al-Anon lunatics" couldn't possibly know or have been through what I had been through or they certainly would not be laughing.  All of us "lunatic Al-Anons" probably felt that way in the beginning.  How else could we feel?  We had lost our laughter; we felt that our joy had been stolen from us as sure as any thief takes something valuable.  Alcoholism has robbed us of our serenity and joy and had left in it's place nothing but despair.  

There it was.  The blessing of despair.  The one thing that gets many of us insanely obsessed loved-ones of alcoholics into our first Al-Anon meeting.  The new mother had that blessing written all over her face, she just didn't know it was a blessing....yet.

As the meeting ended I made a quick plea to my Higher Power that he would give someone an intuitive thought for this new mother.  As the beautiful young woman wrapped her bundle of joy up to warm her against the temperature outside I touched her arm and said, "I remember my first Al-Anon meeting when I thought that all the people there were crazy because they could laugh about what I thought was a hopeless situation.  I remember thinking that they could not possibly know what I am going through or they would not be laughing.  I remember being angry because those "lunatics" were laughing at a serious situation that I could find no laughter in at all."  She looked at me as I spoke, I thought I saw her let her guard down for just one second as she seemed to relate to exactly what I was saying but her guard went back up quickly.  I smiled and asked her to please come back.  She nodded.

Dirty Dishes

Yesterday in the Al-Anon book Courage to Change, I read a story about dirty dishes.  I'm sure I've read that story more than once but yesterday it was as if I was reading it for the first time.  The story was about a woman who was ready to throw out someone she loved over some dirty dishes.

Sounds crazy right?

Well guess what?  I can so relate.

I can't tell you the multitude of times when I have come home after being away for a few hours to find my house in total disarray.  I have come home to find piles of dishes in the sink and on the counter when only a few hours earlier the sink and counter were empty.  I have come home to find not one single horizontal area free of clutter.  When I come home and find my house in such a state I can almost hear my deceased mother saying, "A dirty house is a disgrace to the woman of the house."  The thoughts that race through my mind will inevitably set the stage for disaster.  My serenity is lost and the monsters of self-pity and martyrdom take control.

In days of old, I would have spent several hours stomping about trying to clean up the mess that the people who professed they loved me had made.  I would, of course, make sure that my huffing and puffing could be heard for miles, especially by those who live in the same house.  My day would be ruined and I would try to make the rest of the day equally as miserable for those I professed to love.  "I'll fix them, they will never do this to me again.  I'll show them exactly how they make me feel."  Yeah, that didn't work.

Through the gift of Al-Anon, I don't perform as I did in days of old quite as often.  I have come to understand that I don't have to be everything to everybody and I don't have to be any body's live-in maid if I don't want to be.  When I stomped about cleaning everything up I didn't give the people who made the mess the ability to rectify what they had done.  Why would they if I was going to do it anyway?   A change had to be made and it had to begin with me because lord knows my loved ones weren't taking the great hints I was beating them over the head with.

Today, when I walk into my home and see the mess created by the ones I love, I can take a deep breath, close my eyes and say the Serenity Prayer to help ease my discomfort.  I can go to a quiet place and take a few minutes to pray and meditate so I don't give my peace of mind away.  I can even sit on the couch and play with my dogs and leave the dishes and clutter out of my mind.  Can I do this all the time?  No.  What I can say is that when I do "go there" I don't "stay there" for as long as I used to which in my mind is progress.

So, you might be thinking to yourself that I can now sit in a house filled with clutter and dirty dishes.  On some days I can and I live through it.  The more important blessing is that my husband has found an activity that he enjoys doing.  He tells me that when he does dishes he can totally remove himself from all outside interference and stay in the present moment . . . .  washing each dish at a time. . . . drying each dish at a time....living each minute at a time.

Maybe someday I will learn that trying to do everything robs others of finding what they need.

Laundry Blues

I went to the laundromat to wash two king size comforters

 and one king size blanket.

 I ate one bag of animal crackers and drank one can of coke.

I left the laundromat minus $20.00

Lord, how can people afford to stay clean?