Tag: life

How a Celebrity Can Make a Lady Cry

A year ago, I sat crying, absolutely stunned to hear that Robin Williams had taken his life. It was surreal. I had never cried over a celebrity before. I mean, there were others I had felt heartbroken about passing, and even ones that stopped me in my tracks with the shock of the news. But tears of grief, to me, we’re saved for losing my loved ones. Robin Williams. Dead. It shook me. I felt like he WAS one of my loved ones. I sat with my (then) fiancé, and talked about him for hours. I kept saying, “He wouldn’t have done this if he knew how much he was loved! How could he not know? How could someone that amazing not see all he did for people??”

Here’s the thing. I saw so much of myself in him, I KNEW I was going to meet him. I knew he would get me. I’m not delusional, I know I’m a single mom of 3 kids. But there was a part of me that thought, the universe will definitely throw us together at some point. It had to! People like us are magnets. We find eachother.

I was surprised with myself. All the stages of grief so prevalent. I have never met this man, and I am by no means a superfan. I haven’t seen half the movies he was in. I wanted to write about him. I wanted to write about all the inspiration he gave me, all the wisdom, all the life changing things he did for me. But I had nothing to say. So many others could articulate who he was, what he did, and what he left behind, so much better than I ever could. He was just a guy I heard about, liked, admired, and was excited for the day I would be able to meet him.

“Wow Bethy. This is a great post about someone you didn’t know dying, and how you were sad.” Of course, there is more. (C’mon, there is always more.)

Robin Williams dying was months before my dad and brother died. I was in a wonderfully awesome point in life. Work was great. Summer was spectacular. Life was good. His death stopped me in my tracks. I knew depression. I had felt hopelessness. My stomach turned at the thought of how he felt in his last moments. I thought about when I was that low. When I planned my own suicide. I knew how I was going to do it. I knew when I wanted to do it. I even had written a few notes. Do you want to know why I didn’t do it? It wasn’t for me. It wasn’t that I woke up one day and got motivated to “improve my life”. It was because I knew I was needed. I knew I was all my daughters had. I couldn’t give them that grief on top of everything else. So, I made an agreement with myself. I would raise them, and then have an accident. I would just wait it out.

Who thinks like that? My mind was made up. I was a shell of a person. People would tell me what a great mother I was. How strong I was. What an inspiration I was. I would smile and say thanks. They were empty words. My life was a waste. I had no purpose. My vision of myself had turned from passion and excitement, to despair and regret.  There were no words that could snap me out of it. I was a joke to most, and a burden to the rest. Then, my mom looked at me and said, “You need to get your shit together. You have 3 little girls looking to you. You cannot abandon them.”

That’s when I realized, I can’t just survive long enough. They are watching me. While I sit on the couch, staring at the wall. While I cry and just let them run around the house making messes. When I say no to going to the park because I’m too tired to even move. They are watching, and waiting to know what to do. So, I went to my doctor.

So back to Robin Williams. He took his life. Something in him said, “All those people that are telling you that you are great are lying. No one needs you. You are wasting space. You’re just surviving life, and you are a shell of a person.” Because that’s what depression tells you. You see the life you live. You think about how you got there. You wonder how different it could be “if…” And then you realize this isn’t the life you’d thought you would have and give up.

I went to my doctor. I was open to antidepressants, and asked my doctor to just fix me. My doctor decided to check my vitamin levels and found I was completely deficient on D3. Within a week of taking her recommend dose, I was feeling like me again. I almost killed myself because Michigan doesn’t get enough sunlight. My kids almost lost their mother, because I didn’t want to bother a doctor with my problems. My parents almost had to bury their daughter, because I was missing a vitamin….a VITAMIN. I owe my life to that woman.

If you know anyone that is depressed, your “positive words” won’t help. Your avoiding them, will make it worse. You need to tell them, “You are needed. You need to get your shit together. Let’s get you help.” I am thankful for my mom, my daughters, and for the doctor who helped me. We all hear that suicide is the most selfish thing you can do. But that’s the thing, when you’re faced with it, it seems like the most generous thing you can do.

Choosing to Look at the Guillotine

I have been reading my girls Les Misérables every night before bed. My middle daughter says it’s boring. My oldest says it’s long and confusing. My youngest couldn’t care less.  I read it anyways. I struggle with all the French words, and stop every paragraph or so and explain what it means. I think it’s good for all of us.

We are still reading about the bishop right now. A few days ago, we read about a man sentenced to death for creating counterfeit money. They explain about the shock of seeing the guillotine. “The guillotine is the law made concrete; it is called the Avenger. It is not neutral and does not permit you to remain neutral. Whoever sees it quakes, mysteriously shaken to the core.” This has sat with me. Many things in life, we have no opinion of, or think we do, but don’t know until the moment we see it in front of us. Then, we cannot remain neutral. You know, the moment it is front of you, where you stand and what you believe.

Abortion. (Oh shit Beth. Don’t make this THIS kind of post. I know, I know.) I have heard the debate on both sides. I know people who have had abortions, and I know others who chose not to (myself included). I would like to share my experience, my views, and my thoughts on it.

I knew I could never have an abortion. I made that decision long before I was faced with an unexpected pregnancy. When I saw those 2 lines on that stick, I chucked it in the trash and collapsed to the ground. I sobbed as my roommate tried to comfort me. How could I have been so stupid? What do I say to the dad? I bet he won’t want to be involved.  How do I tell my family? My parents are going to be so pissed. Do I stay in the Air Force? I mean, I would have healthcare, but I would have to put it in daycare at 6 weeks…and what if I deployed? What will it be like to be a mom? I am good with kids…I wonder if it’s a boy or girl.

My mind raced. So, I walked into the doctors, took the blood test, and waited. Still with tears running down my, now very swollen, face. The doctor walked in with a smile. “Congratulations Mama! It was positive!  You’re going to have a baby!” His overly enthusiastic response caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Why was he so freaking happy about it? I’m NINETEEN. I should be looking forward to keggers, not diapers. Then it hit me. I am growing a baby. Holy shit. I have a little me just floating around in there. I took the paper with the results on it and just stared at it.

Well, anyone that has ever been to Tech school in the AF knows, it took about 3 min before everyone found out. Then, I was faced with something I wasn’t prepared for. The unsolicited advice. “That sucks so much! Did you find a clinic to take care of it?” Or “Well, you better get in soon, the bigger it is, the more expensive.” And a lot of, “Do you need me to drive you?” It was expected that I was going to have an abortion. And when I said I wasn’t, I was told I was making a huge mistake. That I would regret it. It was going to ruin my life. I would never find a guy that wanted to take on a woman with a kid. I was throwing away my youth.

Pause. This was my choice. I chose to have the baby. I considered adoption, but chose to keep her. My choice. Do any of you know how hard it was to stand firm in my choice? I had a few select people that supported me. The rest, felt I was making the wrong choice and we’re unsupportive. I kept thinking, if this is my choice, then why aren’t people supportive either way? Then I realized, that at 19, it wasn’t really a choice for most people. They had never sat and made this decision in advance. It was that thing that “would never happen” to them, so when it did, they were so scared and lost that they just did what was expected. And how can you blame them? I was there. I was faced with it. It is fucking scary as hell. I knew I was alone with this. Our society isn’t set up for my choice, only the other choice. If I had to make that decision without any thought about it before hand, I most likely would have had an abortion. Then I got mad. Why the hell aren’t we set up for both choices? Why is it, that having this child means my “life is over”? Why am I treated as if I should be punished for having this child? I’m not saying I thought someone should do all the hard work of parenting for me, but why are things set up to make it impossible? If I were in college, what would I have done? They don’t  allow babies in the dorms. I doubt there is childcare on campus. Shouldn’t we want to educate and help these mothers? Not make things impossible for them?

Abortion will never be illegal. I want to point something out that I didn’t realize until well into my adulthood. An abortion is aborting the pregnancy, not the fetus. You end the pregnancy, which results in the fetus dying if too young to live outside the womb. It needs to stay legal for the fact that some pregnancies become toxic to the mother and child, and without an early delivery, both would die. So we’re not even going to get into that debate if it should be legal or not. I am 100% opposed to partial birth abortion. That is killing. And I do believe doctors should be obligated to try to help a fetus that is born preterm due to an abortion. Aborting pregnancies should be used in cases of fatal risk to the mothers, and the fetus should be treated medically if possible.

So, Prolifers. Here are words for you, from someone who chose life. Being Prolife is more than just making sure someone pops out a kid. Prolife is supporting that life after it is born. Prolife is saying, I am happy you chose to have this baby, and I know it will be hard, but I want to help you. I want to help you find childcare so you can get a degree and support your child. I want to help you find a family to adopt, because you are not in a place to raise a child. I want to give myself, where I can, so you know you are supported. I want to come help you clean, or watch your baby for an hour so you can take a nap. Would you like someone to go with you to the doctors? What do you need?

Prochoicers. You need to educate yourself. If you have sex, you could be faced with this. You need to research embryonic and fetal development. You need to understand what procedures they use. You need to talk to those who have had, and have chose not to have abortions. You need to know the long term risks of cancer, infertility, and infections. I hear so much, it is just a medical procedure. Ok, then know it. You need to research the long term emotional effects. Then, after you have all the medical info, and you understand what will happen, long and short term, you need to imagine yourself looking at 2 lines on a stick. What would you do? Make that choice. You need to make an educated decision now. Not when your hormones and emotions are flying. Not when your girlfriend comes to you in tears, feeling lost and scared. You need to be able to know, that if that time ever came, you don’t have to feel panic or pressure with your choice.

I am Prolife. I am Prowoman. I am not naive. It is legal, and it is a huge money maker. I feel that instead of focusing on making it illegal, we should be instead focusing on educating woman. I have had MANY friends that felt it wasn’t a choice, and they were trapped. They were ignorant to all of it. They had never thought about it before, and their regret was not knowing what to do before hand. They felt conned and lied to about it. We need to be letting these woman actually have a choice. Face the guillotine face on, and refuse to be neutral. We need to know what we would say if a friend came to us and asked us what to do. We need to stop with the hate and judgment, and work on letting to woman in crisis know, she does have a choice. She doesn’t have to feel like her life is over. That this is just a different path, or a speed bump in life that she has to slow down for. And we need our men to know what woman would have to face. We need them to be able to sit with the woman and be able to have an opinion when asked. To not put the burden on the woman to make this decision alone. We need to just take a small amount of time out of our lives, and just know, so we can carry on with life with at least one of the many “guillotines” that we will face, has been seen, and we are no longer neutral.

The Freedom of Being Stuck

Growing up, there were two types of vacations. Going to some sort of amusement park, such as Cedar Point, Disney, or Six Flags, or the family road trip. Most times, it was the family road trip. There was always someone getting married, graduating, or we just hadn’t been to visit in a long time. I absolutely LOVED a fun filled, constant stimulating, amusement park type vacation. To me, THAT was what a vacation should be.

Then, my dad remarried when I was 15. My step mom’s family had a small place on the lake in Ludington, MI. I love the lake, and I love fishing. So I was pretty excited about this. So we all packed up on a hot July day, and headed to spend the week as a family. It was by far, the most uncomfortable vacation that I ever had. Not uncomfortable because of our new family, we all got along quite well. Uncomfortable because I didn’t know what to do. There was nothing planned. We literally were just stuck there. I was going out of my mind with boredom. I fished, went to the beach, took walks and found that I did everything there was to do in the first day we were there. For a teenager, this was TORTURE.

So, I picked up the book I brought, put my bikini on, and sat outside and read the whole thing. Then proceeded to read all the books my sisters brought as well. When was there going to be something fun to do?? Then it hit me, I’m stuck here, so I mine as well enjoy it. I started noticing the sounds, smells, and beauty all over. My hyper, over stimulated self left, and a new relaxed Beth took over. It ended up being one of the best vacations I’ve ever had. I felt recharged and peaceful. After that, I looked forward to our Ludington trips. I knew it was a week that there was no phone, no computer, no schedule. It was just quiet, slow paced peace.

I’m going to jump to another topic now. Have you ever lost or broke your phone? It’s the WORST. It makes you feel lost, helpless, and disconnected. And to all those, “How did we ever l survive without phones? Back in my day…” people, I get it. I remember only having a house phone. I didn’t have a phone as teenager either. But the reality is, a cell phone is a NEED for me. My job, my kids, and yes, (don’t downplay the importance of) my social outlet. Losing/breaking your phone can make your life come to holt.

This has happened to me MANY times. Usually, it would mean I would be without a phone for 1-3 days. My response is usually the same. Anger, frustration, and sadness, which I definitely share with anyone that will listen to me. Then, like with my trip to Ludington, I have a moment where I realize I am stuck. It’s not going to get here any faster because I’m pissed off about it. So I just go with it.

There is a certain amount of freedom in not having a phone. Instead of reading my FB news feed, I would read a book. Instead of playing a phone game, I would play a board game. Once I accepted there wasn’t constant stimulation, I enjoyed all the other things I never had time for before.

This last week I wanted to leave. My kids were gone, and I wanted to take a trip sonewhere…anywhere. It didn’t happen. I spent the first half of my vacation helping my mom after surgery, and the second half, I am now stuck at home. I cried, threw an adult version of a temper tantrum, and finally came to accept that you know what, I can’t change it. Now that I’ve let go of the expectation of what my vacation week was supposed to look like, I can enjoy it.

After 30 years on this planet, you think that I would be able to have this realization a little quicker. But you know what? It’s hard to let go of what we think we need or want and take life, with all it’s obstacles, and decide to enjoy an alternative. We all know to “make the best” of any situation, but sometimes it takes being stuck with no way out to finally be able to have peace with the fact that we don’t have control. Maybe other’s don’t need to be completely cornered in life to finally slow themselves down, but I do. I want to do everything. I want to go everywhere. I want to constantly be on the go and be around people.

I honestly believe that I NEED to be alone with nothing and no one to be preparing for. No to-do list or itinerary. Nothing to take up my thoughts or time. No plans made, and no expectations. Now I can work on my personal stuff I always put off. I can let my mind wander and my creativity progress uninterrupted. I am free, if only for a few days. I need to appreciate that.

This One Time, I was Homeless. It was Great.

I was homeless for almost 2 months. Very recently actually. Like, up until a couple weeks ago. Let me clarify that I was NOT living on the streets as one might assume by the word “homeless”. I was living in the basement of dear friends of mine. Let me back up a bit. In March 2015, for reasons that I consider large enough to warrant a quick decision, I left my fiance. Said incident happened on a Friday, I was gone by Sunday, with kids in tow. And yes, I am purposely leaving out the juicy “why” of the sudden split, because frankly, it doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to make a judgement call or weigh in on whether it was the right thing to do. If you know me, you know I always aim to make the best decisions for my children. Even if hard or heartbreaking.

My sister was going to be out of town for a week, and offered her place to stay. I shoved all of our clothes into trash bags and loaded up my car and headed to her place. I spent the next week in a mild haze. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? How am I going to afford to live on my own? I cannot believe I have to start over AGAIN. There was no place to go. No houses to rent, and no way I could buy my own house. I was stuck. Then I got a text that changed everything. My friend Kris messaged me teasing, “David says he will barter a haircut for our “basement suite” for you guys.” Phew. I have the next week covered.

Well, one week turned into over 6 weeks. How many of you just cringed a bit? We know what they say about house guests right? If I heard that, I would assume someone was taking advantage of hospitality. I could not imagine how any family would willingly take in a single mother with three kids for THAT long. That sounds like a situation where a friendship ends and there is a lot of emotion and tension.

As the receiver of this hospitality, I worried that the stress and anxiety of being in someone else’s house was going to push me over the edge. We all clean better, act nicer, are more polite, organized, etc, when we’re guests. I know myself. This was going to stress me out to the max. I knew I would only be able to maintain the “guest Beth” persona for a week, two max. So panic set in about the urgency of finding a place before disorganized, emotional, spastic Beth would come out. I loved this family and REALLY didn’t want them to regret their decision to let us live here.

Hands down, the BEST homeless situation I could have possibly asked for. These last couple months have been so full of love, compassion, kindness, and contentment. No judgement, no guilt, no manipulation, no animosity, just peace. Moving into my own place, while exciting, brought a certain amount of sorrow with it. I didn’t want to leave this family. I saw my children thrive here. I hadn’t had an anxiety attack the entire time I lived here. I could just state my needs, or ask for what they needed and there was a completely open line of communication. I wasn’t made to feel bad if I needed to cry and vent. I was NEVER made to feel like a burden. I felt accepted and appreciated. Is this family perfect? Absolutely not, none of us are. But there is a self awareness they have, that freed me to just be my loud, flighty, imperfect, self right with them.

So what do I do with this experience? What have I learned from all this? First off, I’ve learned how important it is to be grateful for the sacrifice others give to you. Seems like a pretty obvious lesson. But I feel it needs to be stated. Gratitude is something we MUST hold on to. My existing doesn’t entitle me to anything except the space my physical body takes up. How many woman DON’T leave because they have no where to go? What would I have done if I didn’t have anyone to take me in?

I would say, the biggest lesson I have learned from all this is from the other side of the situation. How completely selfless of this family to take in my family, no questions asked. Would you do that? Think about it. How many excuses do we make because we wouldn’t want the inconvenience of someone else’s problems. I was desperate. I was HOMELESS, with three kids. Did I choose it? Yes, I chose to respond to a situation the only way I could. I have actually had people say, “You chose this. You’re going to have to figure it out.” (We’ve come so far haven’t we….I should probably just put up with it. I probably deserved whatever happened, right?….I asked for it.)

We HAVE to change this “not my problem” approach to life. And this, “You didn’t do it the way I would have, so you deserve to suffer.” Yes, these were MY problems. Whether due to the fact that life just took a shit on me, or I made bad choices, the reality was, I needed help. My kids needed a stable place. And I needed one person to have compassion and say, “I care about you. So this IS my problem too.” I needed someone to say, “We don’t want you or your children to suffer.” That’s what Dave and Kris did. They said, we love you, so if you’re hurting, we’re hurting. If you need, and we can provide, we will.  It brings me to tears to think about how rare this is to find people like this. They are a treasure. I am I different, better, person because of them. To watch them parent their children, and include mine like family, to not ONCE feel like I needed to make myself scarce or that I was somehow intruding in their personal life, they were inclusive and sincere.

Does this mean you need to take in any person wandering around looking for a place? No way. That would be unsafe. What I mean by all this is, if I’m ever in a position where someone is in need, and I can give them what they need (not what I THINK they need) I will to just do. Don’t ask how they got there. Don’t explain what they did wrong. Just simply, see the need, and lighten the burden. To just love and know I AM responsible for other people. We can’t help every person, every time. Sometimes, we have to say no. But if we can, then we need to.

Matthew Stutz Thought I Was Cool

My brother Matthew was kind of an asshole. Now, I’m aloud to say that. Because I’m his sister. You are not. I would say that to him quite often. “Matt, you are such an ass.” He would do this small laugh, a half smile, and a small shrug. “Yup. I am.” See, he wasn’t really an asshole. He was actually a good guy. But he had this way about him that could make you just want to smack him. Such a cocky guy. SO good with people. He could walk into a room, and anyone there would want him to like them. He seemed so calm and put together all the time. Nothing intimidated him, he could take on the world with that smirk and laid back nature. See, I’m the opposite. I am usually a frantic mess and quite flighty. I always have a guilty look on my face, and people would assume I was up to no good. So, his natural ability to take any situation and make it work for him would make me give him that look of, “are you effing serious” and he would give one back of, “Well, I’m Matt. Jealous much?” Which would result in the, “You’re such an asshole.”

My brother was one of my best friends growing up. Since his death, I’ve done a lot of thinking and reminiscing, like most do after a loss. I remembered this one time we were teenagers at the mall. We were being obnoxious, and we were confronted by a sales lady. Of course, I looked like I was up to no good. She immediately started the lecture and verbal reprimand. Then Matt spoke. He made small joke and like a freaking Jedi mind trick, had the lady laughing and telling us to have a nice day. I wanted to look at him in disbelief, but it happened so often, that I just said, “You’re an ass” to which he replied, “You’re welcome.” Everyone liked Matt. You couldn’t help it. He always had a witty comeback, a funny joke, the perfect movie quote, and could say more with his facial expression than his words. I had the coolest big brother ever.

I now know why losing a sibling is such a horrid thing. It’s because they are one of the few people in the world who really know YOU. Not the you the world sees, but the REAL you. They see you when you’re trying out new styles and look like an idiot. They sit with you listening to Eminem on repeat so you can memorize Real Slim Shady. They are the ones who you don’t care if they see you pick your nose or hear you fart or see you picking at your zits in the mirror. They are the ones you cry with when Mom and Dad are just so unfair, or cover for because they didn’t do their chore. They’re the ones you ask stuff to when you don’t want to look like an idiot to your friends for not knowing. I mean, they may make fun of you for all that stuff, but it doesn’t matter. They would never rat you out for being uncool, because you saw their insecure, nerdy, real selves as well. The sibling bond is like no other. And it doesn’t go away. When you sit by that adult that is so put together, you can still see that kid, that teen, that friend.

It hurts. To know someone to the core of who they are, and them know you, and then they’re just gone. I wish I could go back and just be that kid, or teen again for awhile. I want to argue about who gets the last of the Lucky charms and tell him he cheated at battleship. I want to build a fort outside and pretend we are being invaded. I want to go hang out at the movie theater and get mad at him for hitting on my friends. I want to drive around in his Olds with music on, and ask him what THAT line was, because I couldn’t understand it. I want to yell for him to throw the football to me and then him yell at me for dropping it like I always do. I want to watch Loony Toons on Saturday morning and hear him bust out laughing that incredibly loud Matt laugh, while dad makes french toast and eggs.

My big brother. That super cool guy that was actually a huge nerd. The one that I could make bust out laughing, and was always excited to tell me about this “cool new” thing. We did mission work in Mexico together. We went to Steubenville every summer. We argued over lyrics of songs (that I was always right on because I saw it on “Say What Karaoke” so I knew). We hid CDs like Limp Bizkit from mom so we could tape them (which she found and snapped in half) and then sat up talking about how unfair parents were.

Losing my brother sucks. So much. Even as an adult I wanted him to think I was cool. The last time I saw him was after my dads funeral. We talked about bullshit. It was great. We watched our kids play together at DQ and went to the movies. The last time we talked to eachother was on Facebook. We talked about art. He was telling me how much he loved my comic I was doing. He told me he loved how extroverted I was and that he would never have the balls to draw a comic, let alone post it online. And you know what? I was a 30 year old 7 year old. Super excited that my big brother was impressed by me. That was Matt though. You wanted him to like you. It meant the world when he noticed you. Not because he didn’t notice people, he did. He noticed a lot and had a big heart. But because he had a gift of charisma that made him like a magnet to those around him.

I love you Matthew. Thank you so much for being in my life and for being my best friends through all those tough years. I’m so glad I got to see you again one last time. I will miss you. You are a part of who I’ve become, and I’m so proud I was able to be part of who you became.

Yeah, Yeah, I’m so Stong. Like I Have a Choice

Oh, death. We have become far too familiar.  For any of you that didn’t know, my brother died tragically in an accident on February 24, 2015. I sat in my car, reading and rereading the message. I HAVE to be reading this wrong. there is no way. I just saw him at our dad’s funeral just a couple months before. We had just talked on Facebook. This can’t be real. I started shaking and called my mom. We sat together sobbing and holding each other. Is this some kind of sick joke? How much can one family handle? When can the sorrow and pain stop?

I would say, across the board, the response from those in our lives was a pretty consistent, “You have got to be shitting me” followed by, “Are you fucking serious?” with a few, “What. The. Actual. Fuck.” Even our more uptight, conservative friends and family found themselves only able to convey their complete shock without the added profanity. Which I was actually quite grateful for, because seriously. What the fuck.

After the denial was unable to stay, and the overwhelming sadness took a brief break, I found myself angry. Very, very angry. At Matthew, at my dad, at death, and at the world in general. How could they just die? How could they leave us? It’s kind of ridiculous to be angry at the deceased. They didn’t choose it. But I still was. I wanted to yell at my dad for not being here. For leaving right before something so tragic happened. I wanted to yell at him for leaving my mom without her rock. For her to have to grieve this without him. I wanted to yell at my brother for leaving his children. I wanted to scream at him that he was such a jerk for talking with me about coming to Germany to see him and the kids and then leaving before I could. I wanted to cry and yell at them both for dying so close together. I wasn’t done grieving dad, Matthew! He’s suppose to have my grief right now! Not you! I want to be able to grieve Matt, Dad! Why did you have to die first? Now he won’t get the grief he deserves!

Stupid, huh? To be so mad at them? Well, I know it’s not really anger. It’s immense sadness. These were two people I loved dearly. I want their lives to be seen, thought of, and missed individually. I don’t want their deaths to be lumped together. I don’t want them to have to share in this time, even if it’s a horrible time. It SHOULD be separate.

So, after I had my internal emotional temper tantrum, I just accepted it. I say just, but in all reality, this is not an “I just..” type thing. What other choice to you have but to accept it? It’s not like it’s a decision you make. Well, I guess I could opt for going completely crazy, but that being the only alternative kind of decides that acceptance is really the only choice in the matter. So now what? Time to start the grief process over again.

I would like to share with any of you readers a little insight to multiple losses. This is something I was not aware of until the last couple weeks. You are only aloud one large loss a year. More than that, and you will be treated as if you have an infectious disease. For all of my loved ones reading this, please do not take this personal. I do appreciate the support, but it is different. And, I too am guilty of avoidance in similar situations. It just is what it is.

The first loss, you will have an outpouring of support. People will send flowers. They will cook meals. They will accommodate you missing work. They will hold you and tell you, “You grieve however you need to. There is no wrong way.” Then, a small amount of time goes by, and BAM. You’re hit with another death in your family. But this time it’s different. You receive texts, Facebook messages, encouraging photos, and then it’s done. You’re expected to snap back quicker this time. You put a smile on you face, and respond with a well rehearsed, “We’re hanging in there.” or “Yeah, our family has had a lot thrown at us, but we’ll get through.” While you’re really thinking, “I’m not ok and I hate that I have to pretend that we’re all so fucking strong all the time.”

I started wondering why this was. I was very honest about things after my dad died. I would just say, “My kids are late to school because I can’t sleep at night, and when I finally do fall asleep at 3am, my body doesn’t wake up.” and “I can barely remember to brush my teeth in the morning, so I’m sorry I forgot her permission slip, can I have another one?” and “No, I haven’t checked my email. I am overwhelmed and have no desire for human interaction at the moment. Please be patient with me, I am trying to function normally again.” No one want’s to hear that after the second death. Because life goes on. People keep living, and the time allotted to you for grief has expired.

I don’t want people to avoid me. That’s what it comes down to. We hear SO much to “cut the negative out of our life”. I don’t want to be cut out of people’s lives. What a line of horse shit. All those who are “cutting the negative” are cutting out my family and me. We need to cut out the toxic people in our life, yes, but not the negative. Life is so full of positive and negative. People feel uncomfortable around someone who is wounded. I do. I am such a coward. I do not deal well with death, divorce, illness, etc. And it’s not because I don’t care. On the contrary. I hate seeing someone I love or care about hurt, and not know how to fix it. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. So I avoid. And I’m here to tell you, now being on the receiving end of the avoidance, it freaking sucks. So, I act. I change the subject when I can tell my sadness is making the other person uncomfortable. I laugh, and smile, and make jokes as much as I can, so people can feel at ease. It let’s them take a deep breathe and not feel like they need to walk on eggshells around me, and avoid being with me.

People keep saying, “If you need anything, let me know!” Well folks, even though I know that’s just what you say whether you mean it or not, I am going to tell you what I need. I need people to take charge for me. I feel alone, and I want to be with people. I just can’t seem to get my shit together. I need people to let me say stupid stuff without feeling offended. I need to be able to say overly depressing things and not be met with a subject change or you leaving. Most the time, I’ve just been holding it in too long, and it comes out all wrong. I need people to treat me the same as before. For god’s sake. Make jokes with me. Plan things with me and then harass me to death about remembering it, because I will forget. I need you to cut me some slack with, well, everything. I know this is a temporary state I’m in. I’m just trying figure out what and how much I am able to handle. You see, I do like to help. I do like to do things, be in charge of things, and be counted on for things. The problem is, I will be fine one min, and then it all just hits me. I will drop the ball, please just pick it up for me and do not make me feel like a failure. I do not know my limits, and I’m trying so hard to figure them out.

My brother’s death has hit me in a different way than my dad. My dad was involved in my day to day life. My brother was not. So, in that aspect, a lot of my issues have to do with the things my dad did for me that I have to figure out without him. With Matthew, I am able to do my daily duties without the need for him. But I’m still not ok. I now have anxiety attacks almost every day. I get a panic feeling in my stomach when my phone rings. I worry about the other people in my life. What would I do if they died? They could. At any moment. How does everyone else not feel completely helpless about this? Now, logically, I know this is a silly thing to spend time worrying about. 99% of the time, things happen, and we’re ok. How many times do we say, “Whoa! That was close!” It makes me wonder how many times I’ve almost died, and just missed it. I know I cannot live my life with these lingering fears. We can’t dwell on death all the time. None of us would ever get anything done. It is just so prominent in my life right now.

One last thing I would like anyone reading this to do. Just stop. Feel the air around you. Look at your world. Notice the colors, feel the temperature, take a deep breathe, and let yourself just exist for a second. Watch your loved ones move around. Notice their quirks. Memorize their facial expressions. Because you never know when “That was close!” will turn into, “I can’t believe they’re gone.”

Your Shame is a Good Thing

Growing up, my mom had a lot of “catch phrases” we would hear on a regular basis. “Don’t pet an elephant and expect it to purr”, she would say if you were upset at how someone reacted differently than you would. “Do you have to burn all ten fingers before you know the stove is hot?” She would ask if you repeatedly made the same mistakes. She had one for almost every conversation. Which, for this girl, painted a very detailed picture of what she was saying. Of course, as a teenager, it was met with eye rolls and irritation. I mean come on. MY life was something special, and those broad brushed statements didn’t apply. (Yeah yeah. You’re unique. Just like everyone else.)

One of these gems I very quickly dismissed, or even possibly blamed for some life long scarring, was: “I don’t care about your self-esteem.” Not as witty as the other ones, and even sounds a bit harsh. So let me explain the original conversation that she would be referring to. She told us, “I don’t want you to have high self-esteem. You know who has the highest self-esteem? Inmates. They think pretty high of themselves. So high, they think they’re above the law. You should have self-confidence. Be confident in your self. But never think so highly of yourself that you think you are above another person or a rule.” That is paraphrased, but you get the idea.

Quick! Time to shift gears. Back to present day. I have been working at Benton Harbor public schools for the last few months. The program I work for is awesome. I meet with the kids once a week (a second grade class and a third grade class). We work on writing, listening to stories, acting them out, and discuss what we learn from them. I love it. That being said, these kids can be little shits. Anyone who has ever worked in an intercity public school knows, this is probably the nicest way I can put it. (Quick shout out to all the teachers out there. You are saints.)

My lesson plan last week for my third graders had “shame/humiliation” as the focus. So my mind starts going through all the ways this could play out with the kids. In the hopes of trying to avoid these kids going down the rabbit hole of anger about personal embarrassment, I decided to take it a different direction. I started with the Grammys.

“Anyone here know what the Grammys are? Do you know who Beck is?”

Nothing.

“Do you know who Kanye West is?”
-Oooh! Ooh! I know I know! I heard about that!

“Well, let me tell you a little about it. In case you don’t know what happened. There is a musician named Beck. Most of you don’t know who he is. He was very well known in the 90s. He has won many awards. He still plays and performs. He LOVES music. He won at the Grammys. Now, we all know Kanye and Beyonce. They are also amazing musicians. Well, Kanye got on stage while Beck was giving his “thank you’s”. Everyone thought he was just being silly, since he’s done it before. Until after….when he started saying mean things about Beck. He wanted Beck to give his award to Beyonce. He said Beck didn’t deserve it…. So, how do you think Beck felt after he heard what Kanye said?

-Sad! Mad! Embarrassed!

“Ah. Embarrassed. Do you think he should feel embarrassed? I mean, he won best album. He IS an amazing musician. Who cares what Kanye thinks?”

-Cuz he was happy and stuff and then Kanye tried to make him think he shouldn’t.
-Cuz he got interrupted on stage
-Cuz people like Beyonce more.

“Do they? He won not Beyonce. Record sales would say they do, so maybe people do like her more. Now imagine being Beck, and someone taking your moment from you…You get on stage, all surprised and excited. Even YOU thought Beyonce was going to win. But it was YOU! Your album that you worked so hard on, just WON….. That was pretty mean of Kanye wasn’t it. Now how do you think Beyonce felt? Besides disappointed after losing. How do you think she felt after Kanye did what he did?”

-I bet she felt bad for that guy.
-She probably told Kanye that wasn’t nice.
-I bet she was embarrassed for him.

“Again. Embarrassed. I bet Beyonce felt a bit embarrassed that first, she didn’t win, and THEN, Kanye had to bring all that attention to it. So here is Kanye West. Decides to get up and try to take away from something someone earned. And then, embarrass a friend of his, who was probably already feeling disappointed. Do you think Kanye felt embarrassed?

-umm…maybe?
-he should
-I bet he did later.

“I don’t think he did. Based on how he’s acted in the past, I bet he feels he did nothing wrong. You guys, sometimes we SHOULD feel ashamed of ourselves. Sometimes we SHOULD feel embarrassed. When you start acting and living as if only your feelings matter, you will hurt other people.”

I explained my moms views on self-esteem. I told the kids I have see them act just like Kanye. When I choose someone else to read, you are allowed to feel disappointed. But you do NOT throw a fit. Do not take away from one of your peers moments. We learn self control, and hope for our chance to shine the next time. If we do not feel shame or embarrassment of our actions when they are out of line, we need to ask ourselves why. Why do we feel OUR opinion is somehow more important than someone elses? Why do we feel OUR actions are justified when they hurt someone else?

Do I think these kids understood what I was saying? Probably not. Do I think any of them will take this to heart? Who knows. Most were fiddling around or talking. The first child I chose to read was met with “uhhh. That’s not fair! I want to read! Why do they get to?” I stopped the class and said, “listen to yourselves! How do you think they feel right now? Would you want to get in front of a class and read if that’s what people were saying when you got up? How about feeling happy for them? Letting them be excited for their moment to share?” After I chose the next reader, the teacher and I exchanged looks in response to the kids sighs and comments. I’m not sure this lesson stuck with them.

Parents. Your kid is NOT that great. Yes, to you they are, but to the outside world, they are just another person. They are not superior to other humans. If they excel in something, they need to earn that recognition themselves. Quit with the self-esteem. Your child should feel sad, embarrassed, disappointed, and even unseen. It helps them form desire for improvement. Humbles them when facing someone who is better. Teaches them self control over their feelings. And above all, gives them more joy and happiness during success they earned. Teach your child to be confident. To love themselves, but teach them to understand other people have gifts, talents, and will surpass them at times. And that’s ok. Otherwise, you are raising another Kanye. Who will throw a tantrum when they don’t get what they want, and lack the ability to understand exactly what is wrong with their actions.

I’m Content Missing the Sunrise

I have had posted and talked about this many times before. The whole, “Morning Birds” vs. “Night Owls” conversation is usually met with huge support from my fellow Owls, even if it will never change a thing. Of course, the Birds usually cannot relate, and assume Owls are just lazy.

So this is directed toward you Birds, on behalf of us Owls. You are not better because you can wake up at 5am. There is no award for it. What is this pride from you Birds? “Oh, I wake up before 6am every day!” Good for you? You win? Why the heck do we have this underlying superiority for the Birds out there?

I hate mornings. I always wake up late, and I’m not ready for human interaction for a couple hours. BUT. If you would like me to complete a task at 10pm, I will be all over that. I would love, so much, if I was allowed to sleep in until 10 every day. You think I’m lazy, don’t you? WHY? Why the heck is it assumed that someone who wants to sleep until 9 or 10 is lazy? If I stay up until 2 am, wouldn’t that be the same as someone going to bed at 10pm and waking up at 5 or 6 am? If I were to make all the Birds stay up until 1am, I would be considered cruel! There is no way that would be acceptable. I could say, “Just let your body adjust. You’ll get used to it eventually. Just drink some coffee, you should be able to be productive that late. Otherwise, you’re just being lazy.”

This last summer was amazing for me. My youngest was 4, so, for the first time on over a decade, I wasn’t woke by a child. She could (with the help of siblings) dress herself and get breakfast. Also, I am self employed. So I set my own schedule. You follow me here? I was able to be a Night Owl! I, for the first time since I can remember, was allowed to let myself go to sleep when I was tired, and wake when my body wanted to. I was up until 2 or 3 am every night.  IT WAS AMAZING. I was happy, rested, productive, and absolutely loving life. I did receive a lot of “Oh it must be nice to be able to sleep the day away” or “I could never sleep in that late, I have way too much to get done during the day.” Guess what Birds, I had a lot to do too. And I actually got them done! Not being in a constant state of fatigue and exhaustion allowed me to make the most of my hours in the day.

The school started for the kids. I was so sad to have to say goodbye to that beautiful, wonderful, summer. I cried. Then, I sucked it up, like we Owls have to, and just hold on to knowing next summer is just a few more months away. Two of my 3 kids are also Owls. They also cannot wait until the summer.

Unfortunately, this will not change the world. I would love to have the kids school go from 10-5 instead of 8-3. I would be happy if we could adjust meals, banks, schools, sports, etc, for us Owls. I live in a constant state of exhaustion. Because I don’t get to decide these things. I can tell my body it needs to go to sleep at 10, it doesn’t mean it’s going to listen. So you Birds out there, cut us some slack. Because our entire society is set up for you. We have to conform. There is no award for your body’s desire to be up early, and you are not better than us. Your “I wake up at…” brags are wasted on me. Because I am not impressed, just irritated.

Doug Stutz Wouldn’t Regret Stuff, So You Shouldn’t Either

Very unexpectedly, my step father passed on November 23. He was 55 years old, and had a day of Christmas decorating and grandchildren planned. He was at the store, had a heart attack, and was gone. Just like that. Ripped from our lives.

I was very close to him. I called him Dad, and I’ve been his baby girl since I can remember. We talked almost every day, and saw each other multiple times a week. These last 12 days have felt like the longest days of my life.

So, I’ve been wanting to write about him. Memories flooding my mind. Writing about him seems impossible. I can’t put him in words. When I try, I find myself frustrated with the lack of depth in my writing. My vocabulary feels so limited in describing him. So I end up with just the simplistic, “this fucking sucks” or “it’s not fair”. I cannot articulate him or my feelings in the fullest sense, so I just resort to the most basic. I am sad. I miss him. He was a great dad. So that’s all you guys get from me right now.

I decided instead of trying to come up with some thought provoking, emotionally touching, in depth post, I would instead focus on grief. Because, well, it is a very real thing for me right now.

Sitting on my bed, sobbing like a child, my fiancé, Ryan, held me and kissed my head. “It’s just not fair!” I managed to get out. “He would be so mad at himself right now.” Ryan’s response was a simple, “You’re right. It’s not fair. He is still needed. We all still need him. And we need to remember him, the good and the bad. Because that’s what makes him him. If we just remember the good, he is a myth of a man.”

So I focused on trying to remember some bad stuff. We, as humans, tend to forget the bad stuff when someone dies. And I wanted to remember my Daddy as he was exactly. I didn’t want to lose any part of him. Have you ever done this? Try to remember the bad stuff after someone dies? It is way harder than you think. Why? Because those quirks and irritations seem so insignificant after the person is gone.

My Dad was kind of a stubborn man. He was very punctual, my tardiness and flighty ways drove him nuts. He was also easily irritated by the chaos of all the small children. I can here him saying “Don’t forget the bag of your kids stuff!” And “When will you be here? I have things to do today.” He was a very patient man, but I have a unique talent of pushing even the most easy going person to their limit. So, I discounted these memories, since his “negatives” were actually provoked by some of my flaws.

The I remembered a time he got snappy with me, unprovoked. He was stressed about work, tired, and worried about bills. I asked him something, and he snapped and yelled at me. It actually made me cry, mostly out of shock and a little embarrassment. But, he did come to me later and give me a big hug and apologize. He told me he loved me and the girls, and told me he would always help and be there for me. So I don’t know if that would even count as a negative. Since he did talk to me about it. I mean we’re all human.

BAM. There it is. Remembering the bad, had actually opened me to noticing even more of the good. It allowed me to see him as human. One that had flaws, but loved above all. One that forgave my quirks and even just downright rudeness. He was someone I forgave without hesitation. We were able to be our human selves with each other. We didn’t have to act, or hold back. Good day, bad day, or just a boring day, we experienced life as it was in the moment.

After these thoughts, I realized I didn’t have regret. I kept wanting to grasp onto something I would have done differently. Something to say, do, or whatever. Why was I LOOKING for regret? Regret is an awful thing! Why? Because I am hurting so bad. To the core of myself. And I need something to blame. There was absolutely nothing I would have done differently. How many people can say that about someone? Yet, it doesn’t seem to ease the pain knowing that. It actually makes it even more painful, because I know how rare it is to find someone like this.

For all those who are grieving. Those of you out there feeling you could have done something differently, or told them something. I am here to tell you, you’re holding on to regret as a defense against the shitty reality that sometimes, life just sucks. We have very little control of so much that happens. So it’s ok to let go of the regrets (that we are seeking out and clinging to) and just be sad. Our anger doesn’t need to be directed at ourselves. This doesn’t help our grief. I can honestly say, for those who play the “if only I just…” game, nothing you could have said or done would change the way you feel now.

I told my dad I loved him and thanked him for his help with my kids the day before he passed. What if I would have yelled at him the last time I saw him instead? I would most likely cling to that and be mad at myself. In reality though, that should be a fine last conversation as well, because that’s what life is! Happiness, sadness, anger, all of it. He was someone I experienced all of this with, and knew at the end of the day, he loved his family, his Lord, his work, and his friends.

All that being said, I am sad. This isn’t fair. It sucks.

You Taste so Sweet…er…Sour?

I tell my children that they should always retry foods they dislike. Because our taste buds change as we grow, and something we thought was gross, could actually taste great now, and we’d be missing out if we didn’t revisit it after some time. So Audrey now likes cucumbers. Nadia now dislikes mustard, and Genevieve likes ranch more than ketchup.

That being said, multiple times a week, I will get on my Facebook account and see a notification for a “like” from someone I forgot was on my friends list. Usually, my first thought is, “oh sweet, they didn’t hide me on their news feed”. I guess I just assume all those people I added years ago, that I attended high school with, worked with, etc, have no interest in my constant posts. The second thing I think, usually pertains to how I knew them, and what I was going through in my life at the time I knew them. Which, a lot of times, leads to some facebook creeping to see what they’re up to.

The other day, I got on and had one of these occurrences. In my, “reminiscent” moment, I had a brief, almost panicked, feeling come over me. Not because of who this person was, or any feelings I have or have had towards her. It was the realization of who I was during our time as friends, and the potential of her not having a very positive opinion of me. Just by sheer timing, this girl encountered me during one of the lowest points in my life. I’m sure a lot of our time spent together was filled with me struggling with hopelessness, depression, anxiety, and a general negative outlook on life. I will admit, I do not try to hide my emotions, even if negative, and my overly obsessive nature makes it impossible to think or talk about anything else when things in my life are so extreme. They consume my life in that respect. 

So why does it matter? Why would this moment inspire me to write about it? And what does it have to do with your taste buds? Well, I liked this girl. I enjoyed her company. I had even tried to invite her out to lunch on a few occasions, with the hopes she would become a close friends. I was denied access to the friendship. I was a bitter taste for her. Not only bitter, I would leave people with an after taste that would make most want to immediately find some mouthwash.  Again, this was purely out of timing in life. If this had been an established relationship, my pessimism would have been approached with the assumption I was in a temporary state. With a new person, how you originally meet them will most likely always be how you view as the “real” them.

Everyone knows how important first impressions are. But I believe we are skewed in what exactly that means. In some regards, it is exactly what we think it is. The very first time we see someone. But in most occurrences, that impression is changeable. It’s like we have set up an impression mulligan in life. “I really thought they were kind of bitchy the first time we met. But the next time I saw them they were great! They must have been having a bad day.” Bam. Opinion changed. First occurrence forgiven. New perception established and accepted. The second taste was a lot better than the first.

But first impressions are more than just those first couple times. If your life is a state of chaos, grief, anger, etc, that will now be your label from that person. It’s not their fault or yours. We all make assessments and judgements in the first stage of getting to know someone, and tend to hold on to it. We have to. It protects us from toxic people, and helps us learn and enjoy to sweet ones.

So, you meet someone who is a Debbie Downer, and you move on and decide that person is too negative for your life. The taste is too strong, overwhelming, or even bland. Good for you! That is a very positive thing to do for yourself. Now what if you encounter this person later in life, only this time, they are happy and cheerful? You will most likely be glad to see their doing well, but be skeptical on whether or not it is a “permanent” state. You may be more willing to associate with them, but you will be waiting for the “real” them to reappear eventually. Small tastes, but always remembering the acidity they left you with before.

Now take it on the other side of things. You meet this awesome, amazing, fun, happy person. Sweet and smooth. As time goes on, you find them in a low point. “You’ve changed! This is not the person you really are!” But what if it is? Some people ARE just miserable people. So we wait. And wait. And WAIT. For that fun loving person to come back to us, but that was not who they are. We put ourselves through bad taste after bad taste, just waiting for that moment it’s sweet again. And we may even have one or two times with hints of a more palatable version of them. But that doesn’t make them a rich dessert. That was a time in their life. Why do you think so many people hold on to failing relationships? We hold on to an ideal of who that person is, and then get mad at them for not maintaining it.

So, I’ve decided to try to let go of preconceived notions about others. Good or bad. And try to see the person for who they are. Because we do change. Sometimes for good, sometimes for bad, and I could be missing out on a great friendship because of timing in life. Or on the other side of it, I could be holding on to a friendship that I don’t need in my life. Humans move through life in a constant state of change. We do not need to waste time and frustrations on holding on to what we think we know. Our palates may have changed on what we can handle. Or their “ingredients” of who they are may have changed or increased. That’s just life. So if I give someone another shot, and they still leave me with a bitter taste in my mouth, I will move on, and be open to trying again in the future. And if this person is a long time friend, then I will know and work with them to get their sweetness back. Because I know they would (or did) do the same for me.

So, happy eating all! Know your palate, and be ok if it changes. You’ll miss out in life if you’re holding on to what you experienced before, and don’t try what you may now love and enjoy.