Silhouette of a Beautiful Girl

Shortly after my mom passed away, the family and I took a trip to San Diego to visit my mom's brother and his wife. When I walked in to the room where we were staying, I noticed a photograph leaning up against the mirror. It was a picture of me, that was taken during my family's first visit to California, when I was about 13. I instantly remembered the trip, and even the day it was taken. It was the first time I'd ever been to the beach. I flipped the photo over, and on the back, in my mother's handwriting was written "Silhouette of a Beautiful Girl". I sobbed like a baby.

Two nights ago, I was on the beach in South Florida with my husband, my kids, Kitty and her husband. We had walked down for one last look at the ocean before we ended our visit with them. I was feeling very emotional, as I had a couple of times during this trip. While we were there, I heard Kitty instruct my daughter to turn around for a photo. It was dark, but when the flash lit up the night I saw my own beautiful young daughter standing there in the exact same pose as the photo of me. "Silhouette of a Beautiful Girl" was all I could think of.

Tears began to stream down my face, just as they are right now. I was praying that no one would be able to see me since it was dark. I just couldn't understand how everyone else was so happy, and I was standing there on the dark beach with big wet tears gathering in a pool on my throat.

I'm still not completely sure what emotions I was feeling. Grief for my mother? Sadness at leaving Kitty? Hormones? Returning to the real world? Work? I'm only sure of two things--Looking at this photo, I KNOW I have everything in the world to be grateful for, and I'm so tired of these random bursts of sadness.

Different But The Same

Our lives are all so different.

My house is busy and often chaotic. Kids running in and out, school papers littering the kitchen counter, barely having time to get in the door from working all day before I have to start cooking dinner. Then, if I'm lucky, throw in a load of laundry and wipe up the kitchen before I have to do it all over again tomorrow.

Sally's life is similar to mine, except throw in the fact that she has to be mother AND father, and has very little help with her busy family.

Madison and Scarlett are single, and can come and go as they please, right? No, not really. They both live with other people (at least right now), and have to plan around their schedules too. Both have been known to check in to a hotel to get some peace and quiet.

Miss Pamela, Kitty, and Mystical would appear to have quieter, more serene lives. But there's animals to take care of, and jobs are very demanding and often extremely stressful.

I guess my point is that all of us have our struggles in life. They just aren't all the same. Some of us struggle with money, some don't. Some of us have clean and tidy houses, some don't. Some of us have challenging marriages, some don't. Some of us have high stress jobs, some don't. Some of us have self esteem and body image problems, some don't. Some of us battle anxiety and depression, some don't. There are challenges with children and other family members. Many of us deal with addicts in our lives and sometimes in our homes. There are secrets that are locked away in rooms that will never be opened. Some of us are codependent; well most of us are codependent, to some degree and in some ways, whether we realize it or not.

We all have challenges in this life. They aren't always the same, but we all have them.

I know that whatever the challenge, and whoever the friend, it is imperative we stick together. I've said it before, I'll say it again. There's nothing a group of strong women can't handle. Men may come and go, and they have. But in my life, my network of friends is what keeps me sane.

If you've ever walked me through a crisis, or talked me down from an anxiety attack--thank you. If you've loved me unconditionally on one of my crazy days--thank you. If you've listened to me, even though you didn't know what to say to make it better--thank you. I hope I'm able to do the same for you.

Just Listen For A Minute

I have a terrible habit of changing a conversation around and making it about me. In my mind, I believe I do it to show the person I'm conversing with that I'm relating to their story--it happened to me too! It may go something like this:

Friend: I'm really down today. Something terrible happened at work and it's really affected me.
Me: Oh no! What happened?
Friend: I had to fire one of my employees for consistently being late.
Me: I know what you mean...that exact same thing happened to me once. This girl was so sweet, and I know she was only late because she's a single mom and had trouble getting her kids to day care on time, but rules are rules, and it's not fair to everyone else....blah, blah, blah, blah blah.

But I'm learning that when you are conversing with someone and constantly change the dialog to be about yourself, what you are really saying is "What I have to say is more important that what you have to say". "Enough about you, let's talk about me", or "Frankly, I'm not interested in your problems, so I'm going to change the subject and talk about mine".

I really hate it when people do that to me, but I know I sometimes do it too.

How do you become a better listener? I guess like anything else, it takes practice. Practice, and the patience to relax your mind and listen. I think that's why I'd never be a good therapist. I'd want to do all the talking.

Random Sunday Thoughts

Just some of the stuff rolling through my head this quiet Sunday morning...

A line from the book "Eat, Pray, Love" keeps sticking in my head. "Search for God like a man with his head on fire searches for water". I've mentioned this a few times lately, but more and more, I feel this life is a test. A test for getting closer to God. I've never believed in reincarnation, but I am beginning to wonder if we are sent back again to continue our journey. To redo the things we failed at the other times. It's a controversial subject, and I don't want to go "Shirley McClain" on my readers, but it is a thought that has been heavy on my mind. You keep taking the test until you get it right. Until you really, truly understand what it's all about; because the more I'm around different people, the more I know there are a lot of us that just don't get it.

I'm thinking of my friend Marty-Marr today. This week will mark one year since he lost his mother. Marty-Marr, you are in my heart.

A friend came to me a couple of days ago with the problem of beating herself up over a mistake. Something I just wrote about in this journal. Funny how I could see so clearly how she needed to let it go and forgive herself, but I have such a problem doing it myself. Friend, if you are reading this, I hope you have moved on and put it out of your mind.

I saw a little girl the other day, who was probably about 11 years old, and probably about 200 lbs. Her face was as red as a beet and she was huffing and puffing walking across the parking lot to the store. This would have been a relatively rare sight when I was a kid, but today it's almost the norm. The other day in the hair dressers, I saw a dad, around 400 lbs (Biggest Loser size), with his little son of about two years old. While they were waiting, he gave the baby pink Hostess Snow Balls, a full size bag of Dorito chips, and a Bug Juice drink. We are shortening our kids lives with Cheap, Convenient, pre-packaged, processed foods. We are killing them with fast food, and unhealthy school lunches. White milk and water have been replaced with sugary flavored milk and soda pop. And I really don't see any end in sight. I feel like it's being laid upon my heart to do something about this, but I don't know what.

My head is full today and thoughts are swirling more than they have in awhile. I want my mind to be still and quiet today to sort them out. I have a lot of work to do, so maybe that will help.

Have a peaceful Sunday, readers. Take time today to breathe.

What Are You Afraid Of: Part Four

Yesterday I made a time consuming and expensive attempt at cooking ribs for the first time. I thought I knew what I was doing, and I just knew the ribs would turn out perfect; falling off the bone delicious. They did not.

I tried something new and failed at it. Then, I beat myself up for hours. I criticized myself, I questioned where I went wrong. Did I buy the wrong cut of ribs? Did I mess up the recipe? Did I cook them too long? I could not let it go. My family was very forgiving. They ate as much they could of the tough pieces of leather, but filled up on the various side dishes, and then off they went. But me--I was relentless with my beating. My husband even said "You'll do better next time", to that I quickly replied "There won't be a next time!!".

If someone else had cooked the ribs and they didn't turn out, I wouldn't have batted an eye. Live and learn--better luck next time. But when I made the mistake--no let up. No forgiveness.

Reason #3 I fear change: I don't know how to forgive myself when something goes wrong.

What Are You Afraid Of: Part Three

Remember Stella? The one who hasn't changed her clothes, hair, or make up since the 70's? Well I hate to keep picking on her, but I'm realizing this stuff is all connected. Not only does Stella fight, kick, and scream to resist change in her life, but she also doesn't like to make decisions. Stella is bright, and she knows what's going on at work, but if there's any way at all to avoid it, Stella absolutely will not make a decision on her own. Even if she knows the answer, she'd rather shoot the question past someone....ANYONE, and have them make the call. What causes this? Fear. Fear of making a wrong decision. Fear of being responsible if something goes wrong. After all, if someone else made the call, then it's not Stella's fault. She's off the hook. I believe this is directly related to the resistance of change in her life. "What if I make a change and don't like it? What if I make a change, and something goes wrong? There's no one else to blame then, but me".

I'll be the first to admit when I've made a mistake. I take responsibility for my actions, and don't try to push my bad decisions off on others. But the fear of failure mortifies me. It always has. When I was little, I never wanted to try new things because I was convinced all the other kids already knew how to do things and I would look stupid because I was new at it. I'm still that way. I'm terrified of being out of control, or trying something new and failing. After all, failing means you didn't have control over the situation; right? And we all know I have serious control issues (as do many of my readers), so feeling, or appearing to be out of control is not an option for me.

I think this fear of failure keeps many of us from making decisions or making big changes in our lives. I'm quite sure it simply paralyzes me.

Reason #2 I fear change: What if I make a bad decision? What if I....fail?

What Are You Afraid Of: Part Two

Growing up, things were always pretty consistent at my house. The alarm went off at the same time every morning. My mother got up first and started the coffee. Then Dad would get up and they would sit at the kitchen table for a bit, then Dad would get ready for work. While he did, Mom would make his lunch and fill his Thermos with coffee. A kiss, and Dad was gone for the day. Next, Mom got me up, made my breakfast, and then, off to school for me. When we returned home later that day, the house was tidy and dinner was cooking. I could go play with my friends, but I knew that Dad would be home, and dinner would be on the table promptly at 5:00. Fried meat, a potato, a vegetable and ice water. This was the way it was every weeknight of my life.

We watched the same shows every week. The Carol Burnett Show, The Flip Wilson Show, Sanford & Son, Good Times....my Dad liked to laugh. He didn't enjoy watching sad or serious television shows. It was always light and clean during television time at our house. We watched a lot of baseball, and we watched boxing.

We took vacations, but they were calm, and low key. My dad liked "scenery". We ate at restaurants, but never where alcohol, or even beer was served. Mostly the Ponderosa.

We moved only once in my life, at the end of third grade. Once we got to the new house (where my Dad still lives to this day), there were three other girls my age, and me. We played every day. I still keep in contact with one of them. Their lives were just as consistent as mine. Or at least they appeared to be.

Because of the move, I went to two different elementary schools. After that, middle school for two years, and then to a private school where I stayed through 12th grade. My Dad worked at the same place from the late 1950's until the early 1990's, when he retired. My mother worked before I was born, but other than one short stint at a part time job which I ruined for her with my whining and complaining (I didn't like the change), my Mom stayed home.

Routine, consistency, safety. That's how I grew up. There wasn't a lot of change going on in the Hatch household. So.....

Reason #1 I fear change: It wasn't part of my life growing up. I wasn't accustomed to it.