I'm helping? Really?

Two friends in as many weeks say that my positivity is helping them, that they're gaining something from it. I was shocked both times. This is notoriously a tough time of year for me. I'm crazy busy with The Kid's activities and this is a nutty time at work too. I'm too tired to expend lots of thought or energy on anything frivolous. But, there's always time for sharing something that works for me, someone else might be able to use the same thought or prayer or process to help themselves along a little bit.

It's not that I'm not happy. Generally, I am a happy person. I do sometimes get mired down in financial worries, or work-related stress, or answering The Kid's seemingly never-ending questions, but for the most part, being happy feels better than the alternative.

I have had a few dark moments: just today, I got paid, I paid my bills and I balanced my checkbook. I actually broke out in a cold sweat. I'm not broke, but I'm not wealthy. All the bills got paid, one even got paid 3 weeks ahead of schedule, but there's not a whole lot left over. Then there's the time when someone asked me what I was so tired about. My eyes crossed with anger and then with exasperation. Seriously? You need an explanation?!?  Ex doesn't take The Kid overnight all that often so I haven't had a weekend off in over 2 months, I do all the household chores, make all the decisions, work full-time, volunteer with The Kid's Girl Scout Troop, and have to keep a happy face on. You'd be tired too, but would you be as content as me? I doubt it.

As John Lennon once wrote, "Life is what happens when you're making other plans." Life can be bright and life can be dark. Sometimes it's shaded. Ok, enough metaphors. Honestly, I just want The Kid to grow up happy. I want to save a little money so I won't have to work until I'm 94. I want to wear clothes that don't look like they came from Good Will (although the top I have on now is from Good Will and I love it!). Although I like to cook, sometimes I want to eat Chinese take-out from the cartons and not get any grief about it.

We need to find that stuff that makes us happy and stick with that. For me, a major part of being happy is keeping in touch using Facebook. I'm lucky to have friends scattered across the US and a few in Europe that I converse with on an almost every-day basis. These people carry me through the dark times and on occasion, have unknowingly pointed to the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes, I only have enough in me to stare at that little twinkle. Other days, I'm doing the Snoopy Dance, pointing it out to others.

We all need to help one another out. We need not carry the burdens of someone else without rest, we need not apologize for our own feelings or beliefs, but we must help one another find that little light.

This little light of mine...I'm gonna let it shine...

It Could Have Been A Whole Lot Worse

I'm in a period of reflection. I've made it part of my "recovery;" that's the term AA and Al-Anon uses to describe the period after one realizes they are powerless over alcohol. It my case, it's as a person who is powerless over the alcohol use in someone else.

I've been journaling/blogging a lot (more journaling than blogging) about my experience as a single mother and what a challenge it's been. I realize that humans are born to 2 parents because parents really need to tag team one another at times. Well, I don't currently have a tag team partner. If Ex took being a parent seriously, we could still tag team one another even though we are divorced.

Things have been so hard over the last 5 years. There have been money crises, there's more than my share of physical and mental exhaustion, there have been times when all I wanted to do is curl up in a corner and cry.

When I look at Ex, I realize how much farther I could have fallen emotionally/mentally/financially if I had chosen to remain married to him. I realize that if I'd chosen to not return to the workforce, I wouldn't have had any choice but to remain married. I'm glad I finished college when I did, even though I really wanted to quit.

Honestly, things could be terrible, but they're not. I've got a decent job with security (a HUGE bonus in this economy). I've got 2 healthy parents who help with The Kid's care. I have enough money in the bank to pay my bills are have a little fun. I am about 1.5 years away from paying off the debts that have been weighing on my mind for over 6 years. I've got really smart and generous friends who love me and The Kid. The Kid has the sweetest little friends and I'm lucky enough to like and respect their parents. I still get to visit my 87 y/o grandmother whenever I want and I still get to enjoy her stories. My family is nuts, but loving and supportive. I'm healthy and I've got a healthy kid. I'm glad for the quality time I spend with The Kid and the quality time I spend with only myself.

I've been thinking that while things aren't perfect (I don't believe in perfection anyway), things could be a lot worse than they are.

What Does It Matter What Other People Think?

We all know it doesn't, especially when it's about our kids. I dare anyone to tell me that I am not doing my best for The Kid. You don't want to deal with that wrath, trust me.

The point is, when it comes to kids, people need to mind their own business. Sometimes I see mothers of 4 or 5 who have their shit together in ways I only dream about. My only child is happy, whether I have my shit together or not.

I have no interest in debating divorce with someone who a) hasn't been through it, particularly with kids in tow, or b) are close minded idiots.Divorce is a simple, yet ugly word that defines the worst about human nature. It means that someone stopped loving someone else and didn't even want to try anymore. At least that's how I define it. I permanently divided a family, yet I don't feel guilty. I deserve happiness too. Ex isn't the only one who didn't get what they wanted. Actually, since he went out and got hammered quite often, the way I look at it, he got what he wanted infinitely more often. I got to do all the work, and he had all the fun...and he had his laundry done for him.

But really, it doesn't even matter what Ex thinks. I have a theory, a mantra even, that we are all responsible for our own happiness. If one isn't happy, then one can't help others achieve happiness. If one is always feeling lonely, it doesn't matter if one is alone or in a room full of people, one will still be lonely. My happiness was paid for by my marriage, but I have no regrets. While I miss being married, I don't miss being married to Ex, which was a lesson in loneliness from start to finish. I am happy now, and although I am alone, I'm not lonely.

I have one person and one divine being to whom I need to make good...The Kid and God. I thank God for The Kid and The Kid defines the ultimate goodness of God. I'm not a church-going woman, but I have much faith. Faith has carried me through the darkest times of my life and has lit the most wonderful times of my life.

So what does it matter what others think? I think we all need validation. We need to fit in somewhere: in our families or or friends or our work or our communities, but essentially, the only one you really need to be true to is yourself. It really doesn't matter what other think. I think it was Dr. Seuss who once said, "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." That's the ultimate truth.

Fridays

Today is Friday. A simple, summer Friday. I don't have much planned for the weekend but I'm excited nonetheless.

Just the word Friday gets me worked up. There's is so much potential in those two syllables that I get downright giddy. I call Thursday, "Pre-Friday." Anything to get an extra Friday.

Fridays normally start with me pulling on jeans instead of the dress pants or dress that I wear Monday through Thursday. I have a little extra spring in my step. I take a little extra time doing my make-up so it's Friday-worthy.

Everyone at work has a different attitude on Friday too. Although my boss is wearing a suit, I can tell he's got one foot out the door to be with his children. My work friends all talk about what they'll do over the weekend, or what they won't be doing.

Dinner on Fridays is always something fun, like tacos or pizza...never something serious, like meatloaf.

I'm not afraid to have some coffee on Friday nights. I still need to get early to walk my dog on Saturday mornings, but I can be a rebel and go back to bed if I feel like it. I usually don't, though. i usually take my coffee out on the balcony and enjoy the quiet and the solitude before the crushing pressure of the average Saturday starts.

By the end of the average Friday, I'm usually exhausted. Being a single mother and working full-time is not good for having a wickedly exciting social life, but by Friday night, although I'm really tired, I also feel almost invincible. I've reinvented the wheel and slayed dragons all week and I want to enjoy some well-deserved rest.

How Dogs Affect Life

It all started with Terry, my wire fox terrier. I got him for Christmas the year I was 11. My parents and grandparents took me to a shop that was half pet store and half florist under the ruse of buying a poinsettia. The man in the shop yelled, "You are now the proud owner of a wire fox terrier" and I thought he was talking to the other girl. But he meant me!! This little white fluff came tear-assing out of the back of the shop and straight into my heart. Life was never quite the same.

Terry had to be put to sleep when I was 19. He was bitten by a pit bull and developed crippling arthritis at the puncture site. In hindsight, my parents were waiting for a cue from me that it was time to say goodbye. One morning, Terry was struggling to eat. I had to put his food bowl on an inverted soup pot so it was level with his mouth. I looked at my mom and said, "Tonight, we need to talk about this." When I came home that night, my parents weren't home and neither was Terry. I cried in private. He was the one I told all my secrets to and he never once betrayed me. He was silly and patient and obedient and proud and brave and even a little cuddly and affectionate when it was just me and him.

There were other dogs, but none affected me the way Terry did.

That is, until Rosie, The Wonder Poodle.

I adopted Rosie on January 31, 2009, when she was 16 months old. She was rescued from a livestock farm where the owner didn't feed any of his animals. Rosie was definitely neglected, and I convinced she was abused too. It took months before she would fathom the concept of trust. It took a full 18 months before any stranger on the street could touch her without her freaking out.

She's become playful and happy. Once in a while, I see the dark clouds in her eyes, but it's been happening less and less frequently.

Terry was aloof and majestic and Rosie is just trying to understand when love means. We got Terry when he was a puppy and he only knew love and having plenty of food and toys. Rosie was sold to that farmer when she was 5 months old and was confiscated when she was 16 months old. For that  11 months, she knew no love, no scratches on her chin (which she loves), not enough to eat, no grooming and no socialization.

Now, I hate to leave the house without my dog. I hate when the summer comes and she chooses to sleep on the cold bathroom floor and not on the end of my bed where I can feel the weight of her on my feet.. I never take her food away, even if she doesn't finish dinner until the next morning. I give her a piece of roast beef whenever I make a sandwich. I play "Go Get It," our version of fetch, long after my arm grows numb. When I go to the house of family members without her, they always ask me to bring her next time. I have friends who aren't necessarily fans of pets/animals say she's a nice, calm dog. I've had other friends photograph her and when they send me the pictures, they are just beautiful.

I tell my secrets to Rosie and she looks at me like she understands. She rests her head on my knee and lets me know that all will be well again in due time. When the pressures of being a single parent with a full-time job and an ass for an ex get to be too much, I cry on Rosie and she lets me. And when I pull myself together again, she nudges me hand for some scratches. Eye for an eye, dog version.

I grew up with mostly terriers because I can't have anything that sheds. I don't think I'd ever get a terrier again. I'd get another poodle, but I know I'll never get another Rosie.

Is this true canine love? I think it is...

Sometimes, Caregivers Need Care Too...

I've read the blogs of several friends in the last few weeks and it seems that the caregivers out there are all stressed out. It's summer and it's miserable here in the Northern Hemisphere (I don't think I have any readers from the Southern Hemisphere, but if there are any, just take my word for it). For the record, I hate summer; I haven't like summer since I stopped going to sleep away camp in 1989. When the summer of 1990 rolled around and I had to put my big girl undies on and go to work I realized, with a quickness, that I would have loved to have been a camp counselor for the rest of my life. Yeah, I know it's hard to earn a good living as a camp counselor, but I digress.

Anyway, back to the topic. I decided to try a different camp for The Kid this summer. Cost me a bloody fortune, and I truly expected her to come home exclaiming about what a great time she's having. She's not. I soooooo want to send her to work so I can go to camp in her place.

I just get tired of taking care of everyone all the time. I'm a single parent and as I've stated in previous posts, Ex is useless. He thinks The Kid's clothes are magically laundered by fairies and than Rumpelstiltskin cobbles her shoes for free. He has no idea what it takes to keep a child healthy, safe, fed properly and happy. He thinks it's perfectly ok to feed her something she hates because he was forced to eat stuff he hated as a child.I have to wash all the towels this camp demands The Kid pack everyday and I wash all those swimsuits by hand because the washer will ruin the material.. I have to pack a lunch that I know The Kid will eat and I have to make sure she packs enough to drink on those scorching days. I have to make sure she gets enough rest even though I haven't been fully rested in over 9 years myself.

I also "care" for about 14 people at work. I'm the administrative assistant in a clinical unit in a hospital and I constantly have someone barking their needs at me. Who needs to have a check cut for the publication fee for a journal article they've written, who needs a place to sleep when they are here in the middle of the night  for emergencies, who needs me to un-jam the printer, who needs me to organize meetings, who needs me to make the MD's do things we all know full well they are never going to do, who need me to be both a pee-on and an administrator...the list goes on and on. I'm really good at prioritizing and problem solving, but I'm not a miracle worker.

I need to run away for a while. I want to escape, to quote a beloved movie, "I want to be unattached."

But I know, deep in my heart, I'll never be unattached. I am the kind of person who is the rock for others, but who has a hard time asking for help. I have friends who really want to spend time with me, but things come up, and as a single parent, I don't always have a Plan B. These gals stick by me, they check on me, they genuinely enjoy my company and I'm thankful for them.

Love and respect come in many forms. I just wish that it sometimes came in the form of a housekeeper or a junior assistant...

Closets

I was a junk-purging mad woman this weekend. I went at The Kid's bedroom with a Take-No-Prisoners attitude. I threw out what seemed like 14 dozen headless nude Barbies, a million game pieces that lost their boxes, game boxes that lost their pieces (yet the pieces I found didn't go with any of the games, not sure how that happened), worn out fuzzy slippers, bits of construction paper, dried out markers, plastic bangle bracelets and other assorted "stuff."

I cleaned out my own bedroom closet and got rid of at least 25 tops and 10 pairs of pants that I have no intention of ever wearing again.I went through the plastic containers in my kitchen and threw out all the containers with no tops, and the tops that had no containers.I still haven't gotten to the load of junk on my dining room table, but I'll get to that tonight.

Sometimes you need to do more than pray and reflect and put forth positive energies to get what you want. Sometimes you need to move the physical mess out of the way too. At least that's what my mom says. I need to do this kind of purging more often. There's one bedroom that I've never set up properly because it's just got stuff in it. I've made it my summer project to clean out that room, no matter how much it haunts me. I'll get to that one day soon, I swear!!