It never fails. Every time I meet a new USMC spouse here, the conversation goes something like this:
Me: Hi! It's so nice to meet you!
Her: And you as well! Isn't your daughter about the same age as mine? We should definitely have a playdate!
Me: Yes!!! We would love that! I think so-and-so mentioned that you live in ________ neighborhood, too! That is where we live. Just down the street.
Her: That is amazing! I walk every Wednesday morning with a few other USMC spouses, you should join us. They are so much fun!
Me: I'd really like that. I'd just love to meet some more neighbors. I feel like after 2 years, I don't know many at all.
Her: Absolutely. You've been here 2 years? What does your husband fly? What squadron is he with?
Me: Oh, he's actually a Comm-O. He's with (insert unit here).
Her (with blank stare and growing disinterest written all over her face): Well, give me your number, I'll call you next week.
I give her my number and never ever ever hear from her again.
Yup. Every single time.
I get it: we're at a Marine Corps Air Station; most of the spouses I meet will be pilot wives. But I have never felt so isolated in my life, even in a city the size of San Diego. I'm sure that most of them don't do it on purpose, but the few of us I do know who are not pilot wives (we're all members of the Officers' Wives' Club together), are excluded from a lot of things on base and socially. It sucks feeling left out all the time. And with the USMC Ball this weekend, I am a little apprehensive because I know that maybe 2 of the women I know will be there, while all the the squadrons have their own ridiculously fun balls and other social events all the time. Yes, I'm jealous. Our unit has basically nothing. (And while technically a squadron, it's not, as far as I'm concerned. The spouses don't do anything. There is no social function other than the annual holiday party, which is for about 400 families...not a very good place to meet new people, either.)
Case in point: a few weeks ago, there was a Flight Suit Formal. All the guys and gals gathered at the O-Club, and the gals spiffed up their hubby's old flight suit. It looked like a BLAST. But wait...my husband doesn't have a flight suit. So I asked about that...was told they welcome all variations on cammies, but who wants to be the only one there NOT in a flight suit? I was actually pretty bummed that I had to miss one of the few social events that I might know a few people at. :( Even at our OWC meetings, the squadrons tend to group together, and those of us not married to a pilot are kind of scattered around the table like clingons. It's embarrassing to not fit into any of the cliques.
I admit, and I know others feel this way, too: Sometimes we're made to feel inferior because our husbands don't fly. Well, the USMC has kept my hubby around for 12 years for some good reason, and though I agree he is ridiculously good looking, I don't think that is why. Just because you married a pilot does NOT make you a better person. That whole "I don't wear his rank thing" should be amended to include MOS. I know not all pilot spouses are like that, but the ones who are ruin it for everyone else. I'm made to feel like an interloper just because my husband has a different job. It's not like he cleans toilets for a living.
I guess what I would tell those spouses is this: Be kind. Be welcoming. Include others, regardless of what squadron they are with. We are all walking the same walk. We all deal with deployments, PCSing every few years (although it's much easier for pilots to homestead...lucky bastards), and especially remember that other spouses are making new friends (or trying to) every few years as well.
It has been two years, and I still don't have that "mil spouse buddy" I can call up and go grab a beer with, or go to the winery, or just go hang out. I miss that terribly. I am a social creature, and I crave those connections, especially with women who understand this crazy, beautiful life. I would love to have a peer who I can grab and say, "Hey, you and I are going ball gown shopping NOW." Even through the deployment, unless it was a unit-sponsored function, or I was in the hospital, I never saw any of the other spouses or families. :-( This really makes me sad, because I am such an outgoing person, and so is Moose.
And a special THANK YOU to the new friend I met on Facebook recently, though not in person yet, who graciously invited me to attend any unofficial squadron get-togethers. That meant the world to me, that you would include someone you barely know. I will be taking you up on that offer!!! And for the handful of ladies that I know fairly well here, we need to spend more time together!!
And on that note, I wish everyone a wonderful night at their Ball this weekend! Happy Birthday to the United States Marine Corps!!!!!!
Friday, November 9, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Coming Together
Well, finally I am able to share Sunday's experience. I think the common thread on Sunday was that we were all exhausted. The Seminar had a little less structure on the second day, but it was easy to see why: everyone was just out of emotional resources. We started the day with a remembrance service, which I admittedly skipped. I decided to explore the Rita Art Project instead. If you get a chance to check out the work this group is doing, please do. After that it was time to choose a workshop. Along with about 20 other suicide loss survivors, I sat down with Jackie Garrick, Acting Director of the Defense Suicide Prevention Office.
Jackie is AMAZING! Her office is only about a year old, and yet they are making REAL efforts to prevent suicide in our DoD community. And she wanted real feedback from us, the survivors, about how we can support our military and other survivors. Can I tell you how wonderful it is to actually have someone listen? I think as survivors we often feel like our stories and needs fall on deaf ears, which is tremendously frustrating. In an already emotional situation, being brushed off is another injury to our hearts. Anyway, I think we made some great points, and I know Jackie is going back to her office armed with some excellent ideas. THANK YOU for taking the time to listen to us!!!
We then had lunch, and returned to our Peer Groups. It was small again, of course, but I think it was wonderful, as we were able to really connect and dive in deep. I love those ladies I was in a group with (and our facilitator, Franklin). I hope to connect with them often. We talked about how in 5, 10, 20 years, all those young kids will be us. We are a growing group, and that is just heartbreaking. I hope that in the years to come, more resources will be made for adult child survivors, as we, as a population, are about to explode.
By the afternoon, most of us were pretty much tapped out. It's a fabulous program the TAPS staff puts together for us, but all of it is hard work. Work experiencing our own grief, and supporting others in theirs. We had a moderated peer panel, on which I represented the adult child survivors, and I think we succeeded in sharing a message of hope. That there IS life after suicide loss. We can go on and find things that make us happy again, we can celebrate again, and we can remember the love. The motto for the weekend sums it up:
Remember the love, Celebrate the life, Share the journey.
Anyway, I am rambling again. I am so glad I went. Next year, I want Moose and my husband to go with me. I think it will help him to help me (though he already does an amazing job of supporting me), and to help her cope with the loss of a man she never knew, but loves because I love him. If you are a survivor of military suicide loss, I strongly encourage getting involved.
Jackie is AMAZING! Her office is only about a year old, and yet they are making REAL efforts to prevent suicide in our DoD community. And she wanted real feedback from us, the survivors, about how we can support our military and other survivors. Can I tell you how wonderful it is to actually have someone listen? I think as survivors we often feel like our stories and needs fall on deaf ears, which is tremendously frustrating. In an already emotional situation, being brushed off is another injury to our hearts. Anyway, I think we made some great points, and I know Jackie is going back to her office armed with some excellent ideas. THANK YOU for taking the time to listen to us!!!
We then had lunch, and returned to our Peer Groups. It was small again, of course, but I think it was wonderful, as we were able to really connect and dive in deep. I love those ladies I was in a group with (and our facilitator, Franklin). I hope to connect with them often. We talked about how in 5, 10, 20 years, all those young kids will be us. We are a growing group, and that is just heartbreaking. I hope that in the years to come, more resources will be made for adult child survivors, as we, as a population, are about to explode.
By the afternoon, most of us were pretty much tapped out. It's a fabulous program the TAPS staff puts together for us, but all of it is hard work. Work experiencing our own grief, and supporting others in theirs. We had a moderated peer panel, on which I represented the adult child survivors, and I think we succeeded in sharing a message of hope. That there IS life after suicide loss. We can go on and find things that make us happy again, we can celebrate again, and we can remember the love. The motto for the weekend sums it up:
Remember the love, Celebrate the life, Share the journey.
Anyway, I am rambling again. I am so glad I went. Next year, I want Moose and my husband to go with me. I think it will help him to help me (though he already does an amazing job of supporting me), and to help her cope with the loss of a man she never knew, but loves because I love him. If you are a survivor of military suicide loss, I strongly encourage getting involved.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
While It is Fresh
If you read my last update, you know that this weekend I am at the TAPS Military Suicide Survivor Seminar being held in San Diego. Yesterday, I attended Peer Mentor training, and today was the first official day of the events. It was a long day, starting at 0700, and I just returned to my room at approximately 2130. I knew it would be a hard day. I knew I would be immersed in a culture to which I did want to belong, but here I was, nonetheless. I knew that as a group, we are unique, with even more unique subsets. I came here hoping to connect with someone who can really understand where I've been, and maybe where I'm going. I did that. I also came so I could test the benchmark. Am I so abnormal that even 8 years later, I feel like this? Of course, now it's not everyday, but I do have my days. Is that normal? And what I learned: absolutely. I am normal. I'm not the only one who cries...I probably cry a lot less than some, and more than others. I'm not the only one in pain and just trying to take it a day at a time.
There were a few things I took with me today. The first is a little piece of the pain of everyone there (I think we have about 700 people here, so that's a lot of pain.) To some who know me, they may think I am cold, or distant, or that I keep people at arm's length. It is true to some extent. Who wants to set themselves up for pain again? Anyway, I'm rambling. But the truth of the matter is, every single person I've met, I take a piece of their hurt. I hurt because they are hurting, and that is just so damn unfair that ANYONE else has to hurt like I have.
The second thing I took with me, was from my peer group session. There were only 5 of us in the Adult Child Survivor group. I was the oldest of us, except the facilitator. And as such, I am in a very different place in my life now, but it wasn't so long ago that I was wondering would I ever meet a man who accepted me, my faults, and my pain, and take me for who I am. I wondered, who would walk me down the aisle? Who was going to make the Thanksgiving pies? What I learned today, was that I was not alone. These young women were going through the exact same things I had experienced. And while I felt so alone at those times, now I can make sure they don't have to go it alone. And I feel as if a weight or burden has been removed, just knowing that I'm not the only one to have those thoughts.
Thirdly, the children....oh god, the children. Moose is 4. There were many kids her age, who had lost a parent. There were some who were younger, and many who were older. They were all so brave, and amazing. But my heart hurts so badly. No child should know this pain. It would absolutely destroy me to know that anything had caused my daughter this kind of hurt and grief, and here I am surrounded by these kids who are living. I talked to a lot of moms today who lost their husbands to suicide, and they have young children at home. Some of these children don't remember Daddy, or maybe never knew him. To me, it is unfathomable, but here they are.
There were several wonderful speakers today (all were just amazing), and so many powerful messages, words of strength, and also the undercurrent of support just knowing you are surrounded by someone you could turn to and tell your story. I managed to keep it together, until after dinner. The memorial slideshow, with photos of each attendee's loved one who died by suicide, was my undoing. All that was bubbling just under the surface. I was sitting next to one of my new friends, whose son had taken his own life, and his photograph was the first one. I didn't even have to think. I just leaned over and held her the entire time (maybe about 10 minutes), it was definitely what she needed then, and I think it might have been what I needed. My tears slowly started coming with that first photo. And I cried quietly with her. I cried for her, for every mom, dad, wife, husband, brother, sister, son, daughter and friend who was seeing their own photograph. And when it was my turn, I cried more. And still I held on to her.
By the time our honored guest speakers had finished, we'd all cried some more. And I was grateful at that point for the laughter we'd also experienced today. And the companionship we all gave to one another. This weekend is more than crying, and hurting. It's also about finding new ways to take care of ourselves, help others, and find our way down a very rocky path. I'm raw, stripped to the bone. It's exhausting work like I've never experienced before. Hell, I've never allowed myself to feel this much. And I'm also coming away with a lot of things I want to share. Things I think will help my friends and family, just knowing what to say when I'm having a bad day, or when you just don't know what to say. Things that I hope will help someone who has lost. Things I hope will help my daughter as she navigates her own way through her Poppy's story of life and love.
I'm sure I will write again tomorrow night. It helps to do it while some of this is so fresh. And maybe in a few days, I will take some of my notes to make a more coherent post. But for now, I am going to crawl into my bed, dig deep down under the extra blankets (I set the hotel a/c to 60* so I can pretend I'm having an East Coast fall), and hopefully fall asleep quickly. There's more work to be done tomorrow. And hopefully I am little more prepared for it now.
There were a few things I took with me today. The first is a little piece of the pain of everyone there (I think we have about 700 people here, so that's a lot of pain.) To some who know me, they may think I am cold, or distant, or that I keep people at arm's length. It is true to some extent. Who wants to set themselves up for pain again? Anyway, I'm rambling. But the truth of the matter is, every single person I've met, I take a piece of their hurt. I hurt because they are hurting, and that is just so damn unfair that ANYONE else has to hurt like I have.
The second thing I took with me, was from my peer group session. There were only 5 of us in the Adult Child Survivor group. I was the oldest of us, except the facilitator. And as such, I am in a very different place in my life now, but it wasn't so long ago that I was wondering would I ever meet a man who accepted me, my faults, and my pain, and take me for who I am. I wondered, who would walk me down the aisle? Who was going to make the Thanksgiving pies? What I learned today, was that I was not alone. These young women were going through the exact same things I had experienced. And while I felt so alone at those times, now I can make sure they don't have to go it alone. And I feel as if a weight or burden has been removed, just knowing that I'm not the only one to have those thoughts.
Thirdly, the children....oh god, the children. Moose is 4. There were many kids her age, who had lost a parent. There were some who were younger, and many who were older. They were all so brave, and amazing. But my heart hurts so badly. No child should know this pain. It would absolutely destroy me to know that anything had caused my daughter this kind of hurt and grief, and here I am surrounded by these kids who are living. I talked to a lot of moms today who lost their husbands to suicide, and they have young children at home. Some of these children don't remember Daddy, or maybe never knew him. To me, it is unfathomable, but here they are.
There were several wonderful speakers today (all were just amazing), and so many powerful messages, words of strength, and also the undercurrent of support just knowing you are surrounded by someone you could turn to and tell your story. I managed to keep it together, until after dinner. The memorial slideshow, with photos of each attendee's loved one who died by suicide, was my undoing. All that was bubbling just under the surface. I was sitting next to one of my new friends, whose son had taken his own life, and his photograph was the first one. I didn't even have to think. I just leaned over and held her the entire time (maybe about 10 minutes), it was definitely what she needed then, and I think it might have been what I needed. My tears slowly started coming with that first photo. And I cried quietly with her. I cried for her, for every mom, dad, wife, husband, brother, sister, son, daughter and friend who was seeing their own photograph. And when it was my turn, I cried more. And still I held on to her.
By the time our honored guest speakers had finished, we'd all cried some more. And I was grateful at that point for the laughter we'd also experienced today. And the companionship we all gave to one another. This weekend is more than crying, and hurting. It's also about finding new ways to take care of ourselves, help others, and find our way down a very rocky path. I'm raw, stripped to the bone. It's exhausting work like I've never experienced before. Hell, I've never allowed myself to feel this much. And I'm also coming away with a lot of things I want to share. Things I think will help my friends and family, just knowing what to say when I'm having a bad day, or when you just don't know what to say. Things that I hope will help someone who has lost. Things I hope will help my daughter as she navigates her own way through her Poppy's story of life and love.
I'm sure I will write again tomorrow night. It helps to do it while some of this is so fresh. And maybe in a few days, I will take some of my notes to make a more coherent post. But for now, I am going to crawl into my bed, dig deep down under the extra blankets (I set the hotel a/c to 60* so I can pretend I'm having an East Coast fall), and hopefully fall asleep quickly. There's more work to be done tomorrow. And hopefully I am little more prepared for it now.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
October - Not Sure I'm Ready for You
Well it has definitely been a whirlwind here since the hubs came home. We went to Hawaii (more to come on that in a future blog post), he went to Colorado on an elk hunting trip, my busiest time of the year for work started, I also started working on my Certified Personal Trainer course, and now this weekend I am attending a Suicide Survivor Seminar. (Oh. and the big AFSP San Diego Out of the Darkness Walk is in just over 2 weeks.) Of all the things I have going on, it's this weekend that is stressing me out the most.
About 500 people will be attending the TAPS Military Suicide Survivor Seminar in San Diego. As you all know, my father died by suicide just over 8 years ago, shortly after his retirement from his civilian and military careers. Among other problems, he suffered from PTSD. I still wonder daily if I'd known then what I know now, would he still be here? Would the Moose know him? Would they be the best of buddies? (I have a feeling they would be, because they are just far too much alike. I'm reminded everyday that he lives on in her.)
But anyway, back to this weekend. For the last few days, I've felt this increasing anxiety and dread. I am attending the Peer Mentor training on Friday, then the seminar lasts Saturday and Sunday. This is not my first large scale suicide survivor event, but it IS my first that caters only to military survivors. The topics covered include prevention and PTSD, moving on and building new relationships (something I suck at, as I still cannot bring myself to connect with my hubby's family). There will be children there - young children, Moose's age - and it breaks my heart that ANY child has to know this pain. It's so fucking unfair. I'm 35 years old and it cripples me sometimes. Imagine being 4 or 5, and living with that your entire life. I just can't.
I know the emotions of the weekend are going to be raw, and right there in my face, which is easy for me to deal with for short periods of time, or with smaller groups of people. But 500+ people, for 48+ hours? It's freaking me out. I don't DO public emotion. In our family, it just wasn't acceptable. After my dad died, I didn't cry in public for years. Hell, I didn't cry in private for a year. It just isn't done. You suck it up and move on, soldier!
And, I will be there alone. I didn't think it was fair to Moose to take her and make her sit through the pain and healing cycle. She knows how her Poppy died, but we don't talk about it in casual conversation. She knows how much it hurts me. Sometimes, she is my rock. But I just couldn't be selfish and take her away for the weekend just so I can wallow. (And yes, sometimes I need to wallow.) So I'm facing this alone. And I suspect it will be completely draining, and I'll cry myself to sleep at least once.
On the other hand, I know that in a lot of ways, this weekend will be exactly what I need. I'll be around people who understand this pain (as much as my hubby tries, I don't think he quite gets it, but I still love him). I'll be learning how to support others experiencing this pain. I'm sure that the rewards will be plentiful, but just getting there is going to suck. I've been a million miles away in my head the last few days. I'm scared. I'm not sleeping well. I feel like there is a weight on my chest.
TAPS does amazing work for our military and their families. I encourage everyone to check it out at TAPS.org. Even if you are not in need of their services, mentally file it away for the day you might need it. Already, they have been there in ways I didn't imagine I would ever need. And I'm sure this weekend will be no exception.
Here's hoping the hotel has margaritas on the room service menu!!!
About 500 people will be attending the TAPS Military Suicide Survivor Seminar in San Diego. As you all know, my father died by suicide just over 8 years ago, shortly after his retirement from his civilian and military careers. Among other problems, he suffered from PTSD. I still wonder daily if I'd known then what I know now, would he still be here? Would the Moose know him? Would they be the best of buddies? (I have a feeling they would be, because they are just far too much alike. I'm reminded everyday that he lives on in her.)
But anyway, back to this weekend. For the last few days, I've felt this increasing anxiety and dread. I am attending the Peer Mentor training on Friday, then the seminar lasts Saturday and Sunday. This is not my first large scale suicide survivor event, but it IS my first that caters only to military survivors. The topics covered include prevention and PTSD, moving on and building new relationships (something I suck at, as I still cannot bring myself to connect with my hubby's family). There will be children there - young children, Moose's age - and it breaks my heart that ANY child has to know this pain. It's so fucking unfair. I'm 35 years old and it cripples me sometimes. Imagine being 4 or 5, and living with that your entire life. I just can't.
I know the emotions of the weekend are going to be raw, and right there in my face, which is easy for me to deal with for short periods of time, or with smaller groups of people. But 500+ people, for 48+ hours? It's freaking me out. I don't DO public emotion. In our family, it just wasn't acceptable. After my dad died, I didn't cry in public for years. Hell, I didn't cry in private for a year. It just isn't done. You suck it up and move on, soldier!
And, I will be there alone. I didn't think it was fair to Moose to take her and make her sit through the pain and healing cycle. She knows how her Poppy died, but we don't talk about it in casual conversation. She knows how much it hurts me. Sometimes, she is my rock. But I just couldn't be selfish and take her away for the weekend just so I can wallow. (And yes, sometimes I need to wallow.) So I'm facing this alone. And I suspect it will be completely draining, and I'll cry myself to sleep at least once.
On the other hand, I know that in a lot of ways, this weekend will be exactly what I need. I'll be around people who understand this pain (as much as my hubby tries, I don't think he quite gets it, but I still love him). I'll be learning how to support others experiencing this pain. I'm sure that the rewards will be plentiful, but just getting there is going to suck. I've been a million miles away in my head the last few days. I'm scared. I'm not sleeping well. I feel like there is a weight on my chest.
TAPS does amazing work for our military and their families. I encourage everyone to check it out at TAPS.org. Even if you are not in need of their services, mentally file it away for the day you might need it. Already, they have been there in ways I didn't imagine I would ever need. And I'm sure this weekend will be no exception.
Here's hoping the hotel has margaritas on the room service menu!!!
Sunday, August 26, 2012
My House is Filthy, But I Don't Care
...because it means my hubby is HOME!!! Yes, he's leaving dirty laundry everywhere, and the sink is FULL of dishes. The floors look gross and I'm constantly reminding him to close the screen door, but he is home. He came home last week, and I've just been enjoying having my family of three back together again. I haven't touched the computer, or pulled up my work email, or anything. I'm just basking. ♥
It wasn't an easy 207 days and nights, but it wasn't nearly as difficult as I might have expected. It seems like it passed quickly, despite the fact that I had a few more challenges to overcome than your average deployed spouse. I was lucky, though. I made it through the surgeries on my kidneys on my own. Time just kept moving, not dragging. I think I can credit my work for that. I just had too much to do to be thinking about "time". I didn't accomplish everything on my Bucket List, but I also accomplished things I never dreamed I could have. Overall, I'm pretty happy with the way things worked out.
So, what's it like having him home? Of course it has been a readjustment for all of us. Moose doesn't want to let Daddy out of her sight. She begs him to "Stay home forever." That is heartbreaking, because I know there will be more goodbyes eventually. But more or less, he's fit right back into our life as a family. I have to cook for three now, but that's not such an adjustment (as we've eaten quite a few meals out the last few days). Really, we could not have asked for a more perfect reunion. We are so very lucky, because I know it isn't so easy or perfect for everyone. But we have the fairytale.
Our nights have been spent cuddling and watching movies as a complete family again. Long talks. Planning for the future. I hope to have photos to share in the near future (I had another professional photog come and cover it for us). But here's one of Moose and Daddy when we got home.
Lots of great things are going to be happening in the next few months, and I hope to share them all here. I'm heading in a new direction (but also will keep up as a full-time photographer), we are expecting orders in the Spring, so that will be interesting. (Fingers crossed we can stay in SoCal.) A big family vacay is in the works. Lots happening. So while the last seven months have come to an end, we know the journey doesn't end there!
It wasn't an easy 207 days and nights, but it wasn't nearly as difficult as I might have expected. It seems like it passed quickly, despite the fact that I had a few more challenges to overcome than your average deployed spouse. I was lucky, though. I made it through the surgeries on my kidneys on my own. Time just kept moving, not dragging. I think I can credit my work for that. I just had too much to do to be thinking about "time". I didn't accomplish everything on my Bucket List, but I also accomplished things I never dreamed I could have. Overall, I'm pretty happy with the way things worked out.
So, what's it like having him home? Of course it has been a readjustment for all of us. Moose doesn't want to let Daddy out of her sight. She begs him to "Stay home forever." That is heartbreaking, because I know there will be more goodbyes eventually. But more or less, he's fit right back into our life as a family. I have to cook for three now, but that's not such an adjustment (as we've eaten quite a few meals out the last few days). Really, we could not have asked for a more perfect reunion. We are so very lucky, because I know it isn't so easy or perfect for everyone. But we have the fairytale.
Our nights have been spent cuddling and watching movies as a complete family again. Long talks. Planning for the future. I hope to have photos to share in the near future (I had another professional photog come and cover it for us). But here's one of Moose and Daddy when we got home.Lots of great things are going to be happening in the next few months, and I hope to share them all here. I'm heading in a new direction (but also will keep up as a full-time photographer), we are expecting orders in the Spring, so that will be interesting. (Fingers crossed we can stay in SoCal.) A big family vacay is in the works. Lots happening. So while the last seven months have come to an end, we know the journey doesn't end there!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
The Catch-22
Scene: The television is on the other side of the room, blaring "We did it!" and the rest of Dora the Explorer. The author is sitting in the most uncomfortable chair she owns: one of the dining room set with a wicker seat, just grateful to have 10 feet of space between herself and her offspring and 5 minutes in which to form a somewhat coherent thought. Enter: crabby blog post.
It's been one of those days. The kind in which I get nothing accomplished, despite a growing "to-do" list. Technically, I am on a month-long hiatus from work, but that doesn't mean the work started before I went on "break" just magically disappeared. In fact, I've been trying frantically to wrap some things up so that I can enjoy the time off, including a family vacation in a few weeks. But no....not happening today. Moose is home from Grandma's house, and is alternating between clinging to me and whining one moment, and bouncing off the walls the next. Oh how I wish it wasn't 100 degrees outside, and that I didn't have a ton of things to get done right now. My stress levels are higher than usual, and a migraine is throwing in a little helping hand.
So now, I look at the clock, rub my throbbing temples, and contemplate all that I have to do tomorrow that I didn't even touch today. Oh sure, I got two things done today. Out of two thousand. And I'm dreading the bedtime battle (which is back). Of course, many people will say I work myself too hard. (But why work if you're going to do it half-assed?) Some of those same people, as well as others, will say I should just relax and focus on being a parent and not a careerwoman. And yet, there it is: The Career Catch-22.
For all those people that say, "Oh, you don't have to work.": Yes, I very much do. I am not just a mom and a wife; I have a brain and talent and a career that define me every bit as much as anything else. In fact, if you asked me to describe myself, being a mom or a wife isn't even in the first 5 bits of information I would volunteer. And before you tell me my priorities are messed up, just stop right there. Why should my defining qualities be that I am someone else's property??? (i.e. Husband's Wife, Moose's Mother.) Hell no. I am my own person, who has needs and ambitions and a LIFE.
Here's the funny part: a good portion of those same people who say I shouldn't work would immediately pass judgment on me if I just sat home all day and did nothing. So what is up with that? I'd be criticized for allowing my husband to bear the burden of ALL of the household expenses. (He already makes a lot more than I do and contributes much more, and that makes me feel like shit anyway. I don't like not having equality between our incomes, but he supports me in growing my career and finding satisfaction in my work.) They'd say I am lazy, and that I'm setting a poor example for Moose.
Oh, and let me rant on about something else...many "people" see my career as a joke. Because I work from home mostly, or as a photographer, I'm not taken seriously. I call 40-60+ hours a week of hard work, dedication, and my SOUL a serious career. I've poured everything I have into building my business. I think my husband can testify to that. It's not as easy as just "taking pictures". If I could only educate the world on what the photography business is really about, and that we're not all making huge incomes....well, I'm already short on time in my day. I'm fortunate enough to have a job I love, most of the time. If that means I don't have a real job, then I feel sorry for all the people in the world who claim to have "real jobs".
Well, Dora is over, so I guess it's back to reality for me. Is it time for school to start yet?
It's been one of those days. The kind in which I get nothing accomplished, despite a growing "to-do" list. Technically, I am on a month-long hiatus from work, but that doesn't mean the work started before I went on "break" just magically disappeared. In fact, I've been trying frantically to wrap some things up so that I can enjoy the time off, including a family vacation in a few weeks. But no....not happening today. Moose is home from Grandma's house, and is alternating between clinging to me and whining one moment, and bouncing off the walls the next. Oh how I wish it wasn't 100 degrees outside, and that I didn't have a ton of things to get done right now. My stress levels are higher than usual, and a migraine is throwing in a little helping hand.
So now, I look at the clock, rub my throbbing temples, and contemplate all that I have to do tomorrow that I didn't even touch today. Oh sure, I got two things done today. Out of two thousand. And I'm dreading the bedtime battle (which is back). Of course, many people will say I work myself too hard. (But why work if you're going to do it half-assed?) Some of those same people, as well as others, will say I should just relax and focus on being a parent and not a careerwoman. And yet, there it is: The Career Catch-22.
For all those people that say, "Oh, you don't have to work.": Yes, I very much do. I am not just a mom and a wife; I have a brain and talent and a career that define me every bit as much as anything else. In fact, if you asked me to describe myself, being a mom or a wife isn't even in the first 5 bits of information I would volunteer. And before you tell me my priorities are messed up, just stop right there. Why should my defining qualities be that I am someone else's property??? (i.e. Husband's Wife, Moose's Mother.) Hell no. I am my own person, who has needs and ambitions and a LIFE.
Here's the funny part: a good portion of those same people who say I shouldn't work would immediately pass judgment on me if I just sat home all day and did nothing. So what is up with that? I'd be criticized for allowing my husband to bear the burden of ALL of the household expenses. (He already makes a lot more than I do and contributes much more, and that makes me feel like shit anyway. I don't like not having equality between our incomes, but he supports me in growing my career and finding satisfaction in my work.) They'd say I am lazy, and that I'm setting a poor example for Moose.
Oh, and let me rant on about something else...many "people" see my career as a joke. Because I work from home mostly, or as a photographer, I'm not taken seriously. I call 40-60+ hours a week of hard work, dedication, and my SOUL a serious career. I've poured everything I have into building my business. I think my husband can testify to that. It's not as easy as just "taking pictures". If I could only educate the world on what the photography business is really about, and that we're not all making huge incomes....well, I'm already short on time in my day. I'm fortunate enough to have a job I love, most of the time. If that means I don't have a real job, then I feel sorry for all the people in the world who claim to have "real jobs".
Well, Dora is over, so I guess it's back to reality for me. Is it time for school to start yet?
Monday, July 30, 2012
Root Canals are a Hard Limit
Alternate Title: How my Dentist taught me about Sex or How I nearly safeworded on my Dentist
Got your attention did I? It's not what you think, you dirty minded fools. Today, I was scheduled to have my temporary crown replaced with the permanent crown, which was supposed to make my mouth feel all better, and allow me to resume a normal diet. (I haven't eaten real food in a month.) Instead, I was subjected to more pain, and the temporary has been left in place while I wait to see if the bruised ligament will heal or if I need to see the Endodontist.
So anyway, back to the title of this post. I'm sure you've at least heard of the book series Fifty Shades of Grey , in which new college graduate, Anastasia Steele, is seduced into a BDSM lifestyle by super-hot megabillionaire Christian Grey. Christian is young, rich, philanthropic, and devastatingly handsome. And yet, he wants to punish poor, innocent Ana. Despite the pain and fear, she manages to fall in love with him, and they live out a tortuous and seriously screwed up relationship. Enter: my dentist.
My dentist runs a primarily cosmetic practice in SoCal. The parking lot is filled with BMWs, Lexus, Range Rovers and Mercedes. Needless to say, the man is probably making some serious cash. And, he's pretty easy on the eyes. Dr. Grey would appear to be the total package: rich, handsome, kind, gainfully employed...and yet, I still hate him. I'm certain that most of his female patients probably have a minor (or major) crush on Dr. Grey, but not this girl. Not for all the money in the world.
I cannot stand going to the dentist. I avoid it at pretty much any cost. I know he doesn't mean to cause me pain, but just the thought of the drill or novacaine, and I get ill. To add insult to injury, take one look at the bill I'll get. So in some way, yes, I suppose he is deriving pleasure from my pain (or at the very least, I'm making this month's payment on his sportscar). Anyway, I about came unglued when he started drilling on my crown to reshape it. Despite his promises to be gentle, I felt abused. Needless to say, I was not thrilled while making my next appointment for two weeks from now while simultaneously getting a referral to the endodontist. The prognosis: either the bruising will heal on its own in the next several days, or I will need even more extensive work on that tooth, including a root canal.
This morning, on the drive home, feeling violated, I was thinking about poor little Ana Steele. I know she's a fictional character, but how does she do it? I just can't imagine. There is no way I could combine sex and pain. No way, uh uh. Don't get me wrong, I rather enjoyed the books in the series. But I guess that is what fiction is for...to allow us to escape the reality of life a few moments at a time. Maybe if my dentist bought me an Audi, I wouldn't complain as much., but I'm guessing our screwed up "relationship" won't get that far. ;-)
Got your attention did I? It's not what you think, you dirty minded fools. Today, I was scheduled to have my temporary crown replaced with the permanent crown, which was supposed to make my mouth feel all better, and allow me to resume a normal diet. (I haven't eaten real food in a month.) Instead, I was subjected to more pain, and the temporary has been left in place while I wait to see if the bruised ligament will heal or if I need to see the Endodontist.
So anyway, back to the title of this post. I'm sure you've at least heard of the book series Fifty Shades of Grey , in which new college graduate, Anastasia Steele, is seduced into a BDSM lifestyle by super-hot megabillionaire Christian Grey. Christian is young, rich, philanthropic, and devastatingly handsome. And yet, he wants to punish poor, innocent Ana. Despite the pain and fear, she manages to fall in love with him, and they live out a tortuous and seriously screwed up relationship. Enter: my dentist.
My dentist runs a primarily cosmetic practice in SoCal. The parking lot is filled with BMWs, Lexus, Range Rovers and Mercedes. Needless to say, the man is probably making some serious cash. And, he's pretty easy on the eyes. Dr. Grey would appear to be the total package: rich, handsome, kind, gainfully employed...and yet, I still hate him. I'm certain that most of his female patients probably have a minor (or major) crush on Dr. Grey, but not this girl. Not for all the money in the world.
I cannot stand going to the dentist. I avoid it at pretty much any cost. I know he doesn't mean to cause me pain, but just the thought of the drill or novacaine, and I get ill. To add insult to injury, take one look at the bill I'll get. So in some way, yes, I suppose he is deriving pleasure from my pain (or at the very least, I'm making this month's payment on his sportscar). Anyway, I about came unglued when he started drilling on my crown to reshape it. Despite his promises to be gentle, I felt abused. Needless to say, I was not thrilled while making my next appointment for two weeks from now while simultaneously getting a referral to the endodontist. The prognosis: either the bruising will heal on its own in the next several days, or I will need even more extensive work on that tooth, including a root canal.
This morning, on the drive home, feeling violated, I was thinking about poor little Ana Steele. I know she's a fictional character, but how does she do it? I just can't imagine. There is no way I could combine sex and pain. No way, uh uh. Don't get me wrong, I rather enjoyed the books in the series. But I guess that is what fiction is for...to allow us to escape the reality of life a few moments at a time. Maybe if my dentist bought me an Audi, I wouldn't complain as much., but I'm guessing our screwed up "relationship" won't get that far. ;-)
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