What Matters Most

Tonight we were the only car on the road. Everyone else was tucked safely in their homes, positioned in front of the television watching the Superbowl. ½ tuned into the frenzy of 2008 and ½ tuned out. By the time I sat down during the 4th quarter and watched the end of the game – I had claimed the team I was rooting for. It didn’t really matter this year, other things, real things mattered more.

I spent Friday night at home with my daughter and Saturday morning running errands with my sister. Put my feet up for a few minutes in the afternoon before visiting with and kissing my sweet grandmother. Saturday evening we celebrated the 40th birthday of a good friend. Sunday morning my mom stopped by on her walk and we all acted silly with the dog. Went to church, talked on the phone with one of my best friends to check in on each other and asked how to make her special casserole. Cooked dinner for a sick friend, delivered it with a smile, but cried a few prayerful tears for her on the way home. Ended the evening writing in my journal to yellow lamp light and finished an assignment with snoring puppy and snoozing 8 year old wonder lying sweetly beside me.

I am so blessed and my life is so full - the Superbowl seems so inconsequential

Disclaimer: (However, I must admit I am THRILLED that Eli Manning and the New York Giants beat the Patriots!!!! – SEC baby)! Belichick is a baby - sad to see a grown man be SUCH a poor loser.

Throw in a Little Hope for Good Measure

"Don't you see, Hook? You will never win. Not as long as there's faith, trust, and pixie dust."

-- Jane, Return to Neverland

Is it the lack of sunlight touching my face? Or is it the January doldrums? For whatever reason I have hit the negative wall face first. I feel so much anxiety I could scream silently in the midst of this cube farm I sit in each day. I trolled through my pictures looking for something to bring me up into the blue and I found this photo I took in the Smokies at Elkmont Campground - a monarch butterfly about to take flight.

This week my daughter got sick - nothing serious - but enough to warrant being home and resting for a few days. When I returned to work - I felt like the worst mom ever. Why is it when she gets sick do I feel like a failure as a mom? It's not that I can't protect her from catching a germ. It's that I feel so alone - really like KK and me against the world - I have help and I have support and my girlfriends all call to check on her, but when you are up at 4:00am and you cannot go back to sleep for fear you will sleep through your alarm - it is so isolating.

I've been called a Pollyanna - sometimes it makes me smile and be happy that I can gloss through life without being bogged down and other times it makes me angry that someone would make fun of me for that. Maybe the Lost Boys of Neverland have got something there...Maybe being Pollyanna is how I have survived - it's hard for me to hear negative things - it stresses me out. I have to put it out of my mind like a child putting her hands over her ears for things she doesn't want to hear.

The past few days have been hard - I've beat up A LOT on myself for my failings in life - and today I can't shake it - I've simply prayed for God to put his arms around us both and provide his guidance and protection - that simple faith is all that has given me hope today - and if pixie dust works - I wish someone would sprinkle some of that on me too.

Good Tidings

fortune(fôr'chen)

noun

1.
a. The chance happening of fortunate or adverse events; luck.
b. fortune(s) The turns of luck in the course of one's life.
c. Success, especially when at least partially resulting from luck.

2.
a. Fate; destiny: told my fortune with tarot cards.
b. A foretelling of one's destiny.

Someone tossed me a fortune cookie today and hidden inside was this lovely message. I jumped on the good tidings it brought to me. It could mean many things - a new friend, boyfriend, co-worker - instead of jump to conclusions I'm just going to keep it in my pocket - think positive and see who the relationship brings to my acquaintance.

For full disclosure - I got this fortune too - but it didn't get my hopes up quite like the one above - but it did make me giggle.

It's like totally Scrabulous!

So a friend on Facebook got me hooked on this online scrabble game and I'm totally hooked. It's highly addictive. I can totally understand how people get hooked onto the online betting schemes; however, scrabble is so not worth losing cold, hard $$ over. I haven't been into a computer game like since I played Tetris on a Mac during lunch break while working at DuPont as a technical writer. It's fun - try it- I may even be gaining back some lost brain cells that have been obliterated through parenthood. It's Scrabulous. I actually feel intelligent again. Who knew scrabble could be so fun??!!??

My Must See TV

My TV viewing habits - PBS, Reality, High School Drama, Comedy - What does this say about me?

Sunday - Masterpiece Theatre - The Complete Jane Austen - Masterpiece Theatre - always a favorite since my days working Master Control at a local PBS station. But now to celebrate my favorite writer with her own series. My heart is happy on Sunday nights.

Monday - Nothing There is nothing I MUST see on Monday nights - I would rather read but this semester I will be finishing my reading assignments on Monday evenings for my Tuesday evening class.

Tuesday - The Real Housewives of Orange County This show is almost like watching a trainwreck but I can't look away. Now after 3 season I even care about what happens to some of them. It's fun to see how the other half lives and see that reality underscores money not being able to buy your happiness.

Wednesday - Project Runway 4 - This is one reality show where you actually have to have mad skills to advance. No America voted, but really talented judges who do have something to say. For me it's not even about the fashion - it's being wowed by the creativity that walks down the runway. My mom used to sew everything for us - we had the most beautiful clothes you could imagine all for under $1.99.

Thursday - ER - I love this show. Period. Abby. Luca. Pratt. Nuff said.

Friday - Friday Night Lights - Great acting by all involved. Riggins, Coach Eric, his wife, these characters remind me of people who really do exist and live for the big lights on Friday Night.

Saturday - Saturday Night Live (if I can stay awake) - when I was a little girl I got to stay awake for the opening scene and a few following skits with my sister Dawn and her boyfriend Billy, I thought I was a big shot. I saw the Killer Bees, Rosanne Roseanna Danna up close and personal. This show will always be special because of that memory.

I Lost My Man, Cause I'm a Titans Fan (Inspired by a true story)

When we started dating
You could find him in the front row.
He escorted me every week to O'Charley's
So I could attend the Jeff Fisher Show.

To win my hand he became a fan too.
He learned all the plays.
He wore Titans merchandise proudly.
And He never missed a game.

But I quickly found out it was only a ruse.
So he could win my heart.
He found out that he was at the end of the line.
Of Vince, Kyle, and Keith whose stats I could impart.

Chorus:

He bought me a headset so I could listen
To Mike Keith pre, during and post game.
But he drew the line on Wednesdays
When I listened to 104.5 the Zone and John McClain.

Yes, I lost my Man, `Cause I'm a Tennessee Titans Fan.

He only lasted through two seasons.

He began grumbling on the Titans shuttle.

He lost his spark and soon.

His high step faded from doing the Cupid Shuffle.

No one comes between me and the Titans
I thought as I watch Coach Fisher with glee.

I love seeing the players expressions.

Through the binoculars my ex-boyfriend gave me.

Our love affair ended last January.

He packed up and moved away.

We might still be together.

But I tune in to Plaster, Willy and Darren every day.

Chorus:
He bought me a headset so I could listen
To Mike Keith pre, during and post game.
But he drew the line on Wednesdays
When I listened to 104.5 the Zone and John McClain.
Yes, I lost my Man, `Cause I'm a Tennessee Titans Fan.

I wrote this song in honor of mom, Linda "Jazzy" Langley - a huge Tennessee Titans fan, whose boyfriend upon breaking up with her - gave her love of the game and the Titans as one of the reasons for the break-up - before he moved out of state. He also couldn't believe that she - "A woman" would listen to sports talk radio "every day."

What a waste of a whole season of tickets taking HIM to the game.

The Christmas Letter

You know those cheery Christmas letters (CL) you receive in the mail each year? I actually received less this year than normal.

The ones I did receive did have their usual, to be expected highlights. For example, I have been following with interest the news each year of a former college roommate's children's struggle with peanut allergies. Year 1 of the discovery they gave away their cats while trying to get to the bottom of the trouble. The next year found them ripping up their carpets and putting in hardwood floors. Year 3 they moved out of the allergy prone house. Year 6 finds them (with a dog in the photo) attending a national peanut allergy convention in Washington D.C. this spring... you get (long pause) the picture.

One CL is a pictograph of all the events one family has attended in the calendar year. Including 25 miniscule photos of said family with virtual strangers - they do include a key so you can keep up and try to guess who is who in said photo.

A friend at church launched into her CL with an entire paragraph filled with a detailed account of every GI bug her side of the family had, a cousin's illness and a remembrance of a death 11 years before and ended the paragraph with parentheses stating (enough heavy stuff). I'm glad she realized it too.

An extremely quiet and unassuming niece surprised everyone with the CL bombshell that she eloped to Viva Las Vegas. Now that is some NEWS! Best ever read in a CL and her mom included emails for everyone in the family -which I found very helpful. I can email quiet niece and exclaim my good wishes to the happy bride and groom.

Joking aside - the CLs are always welcome - I'm glad to be on the list and get the unabridged version of the modern day town crier. I got my cards out so late this year - I changed the photo card to one bearing a Happy New Year message. I didn't have any returned either and patted myself on the back until I realized that oh yeah, I didn't have time to put my return address on them.

Tonight I returned home after a festive New Year's Eve dinner with my mom and daughter and was tickled to notice a handwritten letter addressed to me (that always means - NO BILLS!).

I didn't recognize the return address. I opened the letter and a slim newspaper clipping slipped out. The letter started out as an introduction from the sister-in-law of an older couple I always send a Christmas card to... .

It seems this couple, who really stood by me during my parents lengthy separation and divorce, did not receive my card this year. Vera is in an Alzheimer's unit in Florida and Gil died seemingly of a broken heart six months later after she could no longer remember him. Some sad news to reflect on this New Year's Eve and the regret that I didn't stand by them and keep in better touch when they may have needed me the most. They forever touched my life that's for sure and I hope I stressed to both of them they had done that for me.

And their seemingly duel passing has touched me as well - thank God I will forever be the hopeless romantic who still hopes I will find a man that loves me that much who can no longer bear to live when my memory fails me.

These Christmas letters bring the moments that are important in people's lives - and why shouldn't they be able to brag about being successful as a family, a new union, pet or grandchild, European travels, raise health concerns, reflect on fun places visited in the past year and most importantly, deliver a simple message in a white envelope of that special kind of love that we all seek.

Things to Do in 2008

A new year has arrived and so much to do...no resolutions for me, but instead lofty goals worth giving serious thought to... .

1. Take more walks.
2. Listen more.
3. Talk less.
4. Set aside five minutes every day to be quiet and still.
5. Read.
6. Cook a new recipe.
7. Learn a new stitch (knitting).
8. Write a real letter.
9. Slow down.
10. Pray for what I really want out of life.

2008 is going to be great!

Someone to Watch Over Me

I was recently questioned by X (ex-husband to those who do not know) as to if I was seeing anyone. After insisting numerous times that it was none of his business, I broke down and told him yes. I was seeing someone. That simple answer shut him up. He seemed satisfied and hopefully he will leave the topic alone.

... What I failed to tell him that the man in my life is Orion the constellation of the nighttime winter sky whom I make direct eye contact with every night while walking Heidi. The three stars in his belt are a constant reminder of what his strengths are to me. Every night it's easy to find him. He's always there unless the clouds get in the way. Strangely, I find his presence comforting. From my front doorstep and my Eastward facing car window I can always find him up there in the sky waiting for me to notice him.

Calmly watching over me - it gives me pause and quiet reflection. After the latest admonissions from X. A very good friend told me she was going to pray for a strong and protective man to come into my life and make me feel safe. Kind of sounds like Orion.

I told her to please add to the list of attributes kind and financially stable. But for now Orion can be my main man. Tall, quiet, strong, safe and always there watching over me.

Discovering A Different Kind of Soul Mate

A soul mate sometimes enters our life as someone to stir us up ... To hold up the mirror so that we can see ourselves more clearly and antagonize us and make us so uncomfortable that we have to change because we can't continue to look at the same thing because we're looking at it clearly now." "The encounter is so intense and so clarifying that we burn through those things quickly."

-- Richard from Texas

Eat, Pray, Love

Michigan State Study: Divorce Isn't Eco-Friendly

Give me a break - to add to the pain and guilt of divorce - now I have to worry my divorce causing causing more than my unfair share of my ecological footprint. I read this recent study in Monday's Washington Post: "Divorce Isn't Eco-Friendly" and felt even more of the literal weight of the world shift on my tired and sore shoulders. The article has its merits and it's facts ring true, but picking on the divorced is laughable in this instance.

After all, the unmarried single women have had enough dumped on them over the past four decades Why don't they go ahead and praise the unmarried single men still living at home in their parents basement for saving the earth. White men would rejoice everywhere and the Republicans could use them as their poster boys on the global warming stage (even though its not happening). They could even trot them out on the Convention floor and allow them to tell their story with their photos projected on the big screen and a patriotic balloon drop in their honor.

Go ahead, pick on the divorced, to hear the experts tell it we are also contributing to the juvenile delinquency rate and the Christian conservatives label us as single moms like we are akin to road whores. As a divorcee does everything have to be blamed on me? I'm wondering if I'm off the hook now. Does that theory change when when one of the spouses remarry, because my ex-husband remarried last May and combined a household of 6 people - so that must mean for the past 7 months - I will take none of the blame this study places on me. They can take that to the dump along with the scarlet letter I removed from my right shoulder. Or maybe I should just recycle it.

The Musicians In Me

After working on a presentation for my "Music, Gender and Sexuality" course and breaching my own "is nothing sacred" cry (after some beloved composers and songs were presented to me in a different light ...and even beloved fairy tales dissected and showcased in a way that was shocking to me) I am working on my final presentation.

After this course, I have been enlightened, embarrassed, labelled a Pollyanna by a friend in class, and shocked. So I'm borrowing from the title of a song in the movie "You are the Music in Me" and composing my own little diddy... it goes something like this.

The Musicians in Me

Boston, Donna Summer, The Eagles
and Frampton Comes Alive
the music of my older sisters
became by 70s vibe.

In the early 80s it was Prince, The Gloved One,
Duran Duran and Loverboy,
Adam Ant in concert, Culture Club, REM,
our Material Girl slash Boy Toy.

Androgynous Annie became a Diva in the 90s
Springsteen, Bon Jovi and Aerosmith kept on rockin'
Garth became Chris Gaines, Nirvana gave us Grunge
and the college kids started moshing.

At the millenium, the Boy Bands faltered,
the Spice Girls lost their Grrrll Power
The Metal Bands joined AARP, rehabbed
and went on another Farewell Tour.

After taking this class now I ask myself?

• Will a gender bender make it to the American Idol stage? (they already have)
• Will Britney get her shit together and once again be all the rage? (probably not)
• Scissor sisters as a position? Am I really that naive? (yes!)
• And, what does it mean if I fancy the Sinatra-like swing of crooner Michael Buble?
• I sit in church and wonder what would the elders think if they knew Messiah's Handel was gay? (not too much probably)
• And finally, through caring about all this I wonder...does it chip my newfound radical feminism away?

My iTunes are my secret
But I'll listen to the musicians in me more carefully now
I've been enlightened, empowered, labelled a Pollyanna
and all I can say after taking this course -WOW!

A Final Step in Setting Myself Free

I just told a very close friend this morning that until she ends a floundering relationship that she will never be open to accepting a new one. She agreed, we said our goodbyes, I hung up and didn't think another thing of it.

As I trolled through my daily work of gathering and collecting news and announcements from med schools & centers across the country I came across the sweetest story: Two Dogs Spend 26 Days With Owner Who Died In The Wilderness and immediately thought of the person who I wanted to share it with.

So I took a deep breath, googled his email on the internet, put his address in the TO: box, wrote a brief note and clicked the Send button.

In sending it I discovered the biggest feeling of relief that washed over me. Why had I been afraid of sending an email to a terrific guy that I had shared so many wonderful moments and memories (of a special dog too!) with? We have both moved on with our lives - married other people, had the careers we planned on?? Was I afraid of being rejected again? I think so.

But I was able to send this before all that other stuff in the thought process got in the way. The words I told my close friend this morning came back to me albeit a tad differently. I haven't pined for this sweetheart since my divorce, while maybe I have, and I didn't unrealisticly think that he would come back and rescue me from my divorce distress but perhaps someone like him. Of course I wonder if I cross his mind? Isn't that normal?

Over the years, I've walked on many a beach and thrown countless but invisible good-bye messages in a bottle to this man, hoping to let that part of my heart go... . I have not been able to do so successfully.

But this morning, by clicking send - I confronted what I was afraid of with a friendly hi (after 15 years but who's counting?) and I'm gleefully discovering that I alone held the power to set myself FREE!!

Waking Up

Every morning when my erratic alarm clock starts it's annoying beeping sound, I wake up half exhausted from the dreams that filled my slumber. I have envisioned emails where I could see the names in the sent box, seen colors so vivid in the darkness of my dreams and heard voices that I still trembled upon hearing.

For the past two months, it's been either a technicolor nightmare of relationships past or psychadelic mindtrip of crazy classroom assignments of dressing like a punk rocker or outrageous conversations that I'm having with people.

In the quiet of my day, I silently snicker to myself that no one in my office has any idea of how I spend my nights.

What has awakened inside of me? Is it me finally breaking away and moving forward? Dare I type it outloud? I feel happy most of the time!! Could it be "the big D" is finally behind me? Let me pinch myself and make sure? But it's true - I'm starting to feel alive again.

If I'm lucky maybe it will catch on to all aspects of my life.

I Am Tennessee (Author Unknown)

I am Tennessee. I am the 30 year old couple coming back to campus for thefirst time with both little ones in tow. One wears her orange and white cheerleader outfit; the other wears #16 even though he's too young to understand why.

I am the 50 year old man who hoped no one saw tears in his eyes when the T wasformed by the band. I was too choked even to sing "Rocky Top". For a moment I felt foolish and then I didn't care. God, I love this place.

I am the 60 year old woman meeting her freshman grand-daughter who is now the3rd generation of UT students in our family. Despite my age, I'd strap it onSaturday and hit someone if it weren't for my gender and this blasted arthritis.

I am Tennessee and I have always believed I was different. You can see it whenyou look up into the stands. My orange is not the same as Florida's or Auburn's . But the differences go much deeper than my colors.

Read my creed. What other school has one? I genuinely believe in these things.To be a real Tennessee man or woman speaks of character, not of geography. All are welcome to walk though my gates, not just the wealthy or the elite.

Georgia and Alabama may have their nations, but we have always been family. Make no mistake, we loathe defeat, but even in defeat, we would rather be aTennessee Vol than anything else.

We are family and you are the sons of Heisman, the sons of Majors and Neyland.You come from a long line of brothers who names include White, Gault, Wilson,Manning, Shuler, Nash and Mahelona. It is a great heritage.

So this Saturday, when the warm ups are over and the prayers and amen spoken,when you hear my thunder growing in the stands above you, when you stand inthe tunnel and the smoke begins to form, listen for my voice when you run on to my field.

Behind the frenzy of the shakers and deafening roar, I will tell you something in a whisper you may miss. I will be telling you that you are my sons and I am proud of you for the way you wear the orange and white. I am telling you that you are my sons and I love you.

Tennessee is so much more than a state or a school or a team or a degree. It is something that, once you have experienced it, will live inside of you forever and become a part of what makes up who you are. It is driving into town on a game day.

You may have come from hundreds of miles away and as you get closer and closer to the city limits, you feel it rising inside of you. Other cars on the highway proudly display their Orange and White flags or magnets or car tags, and you honk and wave at them, because, for that one day, you are all on the same team.

It is the smell in the air and the ritualistic act of tailgating...catching up with old friends, making new ones, and invitations from perfect strangers totry their ribs or watch their satellite TV showing all of the day's important match-ups...of course, all being secondary to the one that will occur in thegreat cathedral of Neyland Stadium later that day.

It is the Vol Walk...where you might just see 300 pound men overcome withemotion and weeping with pride, because you have come there to cheer them on. As they walk by, you might exchange a glance with one or two of them, and youcan see it in their eyes...it is going to be their day.

It is the students...dressed in their best, because going to a Tennessee game is like going to church for Tennessee people....you show the same respect as you would if you were in God's house. Those students remind you of the dayswhen you were walking in their shoes and Tennessee was your home...but thenyou realize, in many ways, it is still and always will be HOME.

It is that lump that rises in your throat when the band plays Rocky Top as the"T" is formed.

It is walking around on a "foreign" and sometimes hostile campus. You are easily identified (Tennessee people always are) and the enemy jeers and shoutsthings at you to mask their feelings of intimidation. But just then you happen upon a friend you have never met before. You know they are your friend by the colors they wear or the shaker in their hand. You exchange a "Go Vols" and a confident grin, because he/she knows what you know.

It is when your heart leaps with every touchdown, field goal, sack, andinterception...because those are our boys. And win or lose, they will alwayshave our un-dying support. After all, it is those boys that you are really there for and not a coach or a logo or a trustee or a president.

It is the complete and utter exhilaration of walking away victorious over a worthy opponent...that feeling of pride and accomplishment as if it were your own feet that had crossed the goal line scoring the last points yourself...that feeling of wanting to scream "Go Big Orange" at the top of your lungs and hug complete strangers...and then there is the ultimate high of defeating your most hated foes from across the state.

No words can describe what this feels like, but you know because you have experienced it. It is the sheer agony of defeat as the last minutes tick off of the clock andyou realize that all hope of a victory is gone.

You feel like crying and maybe you do...then you hear the faint sounds of a cheer that grows louder and louder...."Its Great To Be A Tennessee Vol."

It is knowing that year after year, no matter how things change in our hecticlives, you can always come back to "the Loveliest Place on the River"... theplace where you came from...your home.

It will probably look a little different and there will be new names on the backs of the jerseys, but deepdown, no matter what, it is still the same. You still love it as much as you always have, because Tennessee is as much a part of you as your arms and your legs and the orange blood that runs through your veins.

And, finally, it is the feeling you have right now as you read theselines....the anticipation inside of you, because you know its almost time....Its about to start all over again...but then it really never goes away, does it?

GO BIG ORANGE!

Viva Las Vegas, Part Deux

In honor of my Viva Las Vegas buddy, I am writing installment two today of our trip to VLV! To say that even the shuttle drive to the hotel was totally exciting would be an understatement, I guess that is what happens even when a 40 something country girl goes to the big city. The lights we saw from the airplane were overwhelming, inviting and exhilarating.

I'm sure the other riders en route to their hotels thought there was a Vegas newbie on board, because I vascillated between sharp intakes of breath and little squeals especially when I saw Paris Las Vegas and the Golden Nugget! Also cool to behold was the skyscraper size billboards for Celine, Toni Braxton and other celebs playing the crowded rooms on the Vegas strip.

We threw our bags into our rooms and didn't return until daybreak. This would set the schedule for the rest of the week. Leave the room at 10 return at 5 or 6 and sleep ALL DAY! A luxury for someone who gets little downtime. We agreed to stay in the safe confines of our hotel and venture out the next day into the wild world of VLV.

After being dissed at the all-night restuarant that was not serving the Prime-Rib sandwich we had hungered for across the country we descended into the pits of the casino and lo and behold we ran into Little Richard, Shania, Dolly, Elvis, Tina Turner, The Blues Brothers and Ricky Martin Living Las Vida Loca above the black jack tables. It wasn't the real deal but the dealertainers of Imperial Palace - who needed Celine when this was going on 24/7 in our home casino.

OMG, I Have Become My Mother

Throughout this life, my mom has been my hero, my mentor, my role model to follow as an example as the woman I have most wanted to be like. We have always called her "Miss Stewart County High School" because simply put - she was. Valedictorian, President of the Beta Club, Captain of the Cheerleaders, Editor of the school yearbook and columnist in the local newspaper, were all titles attached to our mother's name. Andy Holt himself promised her a four-year scholarship to the University of Tennessee when he witnessed her commencement speech that she recited from memory.

It's an understatement to say how proud she made her parents. Another still to her three daughters and how it felt to grow up with an academic "rock star mom" who was not only brilliant, but fun and beautiful and strong. Upon "going into town" while visiting our grandparents, her former classmates would stop us on the streets, introduce themselves and say "I went to school with your mother... I'm (fill in the blank) and we had so much fun together, she was so smart, she helped me so much." To hear them speak of her impact on their lives, you would have thought she was the first woman to orbit in space.


The wonderful thing about our mom is that not only did she cheer on the Stewart Co. Rebels, but she was personal cheerleader, advice lender, and a positive reinforcement to everyone she knew, especially her three daughters and now her granddaughter. As her children, we blessedly were the direct recipients of these accolades. She has always looked for the best in people, never allowed us to gossip and always stressed to us to be the bigger person, to take the high road in life.

Words cannot even speak of the sacrifices she made for us before and after our father left - but she she took the high road, did not become bitter, remained beautiful, fun and entered the workforce. She excelled at every position she accepted. She never met a pair of high heels she didn't like. She met the career of her dreams when she became a real estate agent. It was the perfect fit for her positive personality, her intelligence and her cheerleader personality. We began calling her cyber-mom when her prowess on the computer became evident.


After Granddaddy died, her sweet mother remained at home growing even prouder and even getting our mom a few real estate clients. When I got married, it was she who walked me down the aisle.

What I'm trying to say in this post but taking too long to get there is that I understand now and am trying to be forgiving when the cheerleader has a bad day. Always expecting her to be the positive one and cheer us on her way, it's hard for me when she is down. But I have to say now in light of being a divorced mother myself and forging onward each and every day for my daughter, I'll change places with you mom and give you a break. It's okay to have a bad day, a bad week, a bad month even, I will not give you the "pep talk". Mainly because I tried and it didn't work.

My sweet grandmother can no longer be the proud anchor for my mom that she once was so we try to fill her shoes not as a mother, but daughter anchors. I hope she'll use us and let us be her cheerleader for once.

When September Returns

Let the autumn leaves fall,

Let go, let go,
it's time to face the winter.

I miss you most

when the August skies

shine blue
the way your eyes do.

Let the brown leaves fall,
Let go, let go,
do not fear.

Spring - and love -
are so near.

I miss you Chris
when September returns,
for I'm always
thinking of you.

--SHK

Abyss Walking

Working at a medical center has its pluses and minuses. Every time I'm having a bad day, feeling sorry for myself, I simply walk across the courtyard of the medical plaza and I change my mind. You see everything you can imagine and things you never want to. The sick kids are the worst and the saddest have to be the folks hooked up to their IV poles dragging on a cigarette on the smoking porch.

My job entails tracking med school appointments and teaching hospital news, so from the clips I glean these headlines from I also read the reports on the latest research study. So I read the symptoms and do a lot of self-diagnosing - enough to be dangerous a doctor would probably say.


I've convinced that I have PMMD - a disorder that mainly effects me emotionally more than physically. Perhaps my male ob/gyn would laugh it off - but he has never sunk to the depths that I have - self-doubt, low self-worth, hostility, feeling unloved and unloveable and the hopeless blanket that weighs me down. It comes on quickly - something that normal wouldn't bother me makes me terribly irritable and I feel out of control. A simple comment is twisted and I inadvertently jump on an innocent person. Sometimes I panic, sometimes I can recognize it, but other times I feel as if an alien has invaded my body and I'm sure my family, friends and co-workers feel as if they have encountered a counter-culture sub-species. If my one gal pal isn't available to talk to I wait for her call to back because her calmness and patience with me seems to be the one thing that make me feel like I'm not crazy.

The dictionary defines an abyss, as "an immeasurably deep chasm, depth, or void." James Cameron even made a movie called "The Abyss" (pre-Titanic). An American nuclear submarine is attacked (during the cold war) and crashes underwater. A team of deep water divers from an oil rig are sent to examine it - what they encounter is terrifying. When I find myself in this bad place each month I feel as if I'm walking on the edge of an abyss that I could easily slip off of - but something holds me upright on the edge and when I'm there it is a very scary place to be in. When it's over I'm relieved, I feel safe.


Today, I felt the first breeze of fall on my face. It was a welcome touch but it also made me feel melancholy. Abyss walking only makes me want to disappear so no one will notice me. Make me invisible until I'm through feeling this way.

The Importance of Being Ernest

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.

--Ernest Hemingway