Political Manifesto of a Moderate with Conservative Leanings (and a few Liberal ones too)

I have never really been inclined to engage in a great deal of political discussion. I basically know what I believe, vote for the individual instead of the party, have defined myself as a Moderate, and am a registered Independent.  I have never been fully Conservative or fully Liberal. Typically more on the Conservative side than the Liberal. The reason I don't engage in a lot of political debate is not because I don't have firm convictions about my beliefs, but because my relationships with my friends have a basis which has nothing to do with politics. I have friends and loved ones who are extreme Liberals, friends and loved ones who are extreme Conservatives, and most who fall in the broad range between the two extremes. If you are my friend, I welcome you and love you whether I agree with your political position or not. In addition, I simply don't care to put such divisions between myself and others who are wonderful individuals, but who don't share my political views. We don't have to agree, I'm not the best debater, usually don't have enough facts to fully support my views, and don't feel the need to convert others. I'm the same way with the other big divisive issue . . . religion. In that, I try to live my Christian beliefs and believe in influence by example.

This whole topic arises because I have been told that I am unwilling to share my political views out of fear that I would alienate my more Liberal friends. In that sense, I could just as easily alienate my more Conservative friends. However, I believe that those who disagree with me will love me anyway, no matter how misguided they may think I am. I could be wrong, so if my "Friends" number drops on Facebook, I suppose I'll know. I don't think I'm wrong though.

So what is it that I believe? I'm not very good at articulating such things, but I'm willing to give it a try.

• National Defense/Security: I believe in complete military support! Our troops are of the utmost importance, they risk their lives for us on a daily basis, and they must be completely supported and praised. I believe that our military must remain strong, and this requires a firm military defense budget. There is never justification for sending our troops into harm's way without the proper training and equipment. I would like to see the waste in the defense budget cut but would not endorse military spending cuts in general. I believe that we need to do a more adequate job of securing our borders, especially in Mexico, but I'm not completely sure what the answer there is. I believe that diplomacy should generally be the first line of defense in an international situation, but that we should always be ready and willing to retaliate when our national interests are threatened. I do not believe that we need to police and democratize the world. However, I do believe it is necessary to have military bases throughout the world so we are better able to address issues if needed. I believe that international support is almost always optimal. I believe our international reputation and image has been badly damaged, and needs repair. I believe terrorism is an ongoing threat and we must seriously improve our "intelligence" community.
• Health Care: I believe Obamacare is a disaster!!! I do not believe in government-run health care. I believe in health care reform, primarily by reducing the waste of malpractice law suits, that dramatically raises the overall cost of health care. I believe that Medicare and Medicaid fraud must be clamped down on. I believe there are better solutions to our health care crisis than universal health care. I'm not completely sure what the best option is, but I am sure that Obama's plan is only going to make things worse. I can attest to this from my own experience. The government bureaucracy will only multiply the problems astronomically. 
• Energy: I believe that we must become energy independent! We must continue to explore energy forms such as nuclear power, clean coal, natural gas, solar, wind, geothermal, hydroelectric, and yes, drilling. While we must do this in an ecologically sound way, we also need to be reasonable in regulations. Too many unnecessary regulations limit development, and are keeping the country from being able to create new jobs and develop new industry. Cap and trade legislation will keep us from developing in these areas.
• Education: Do away with "No Child Left Behind"!!!!!!! What a freaking disaster! Eliminate the Department of Education! Funnel all of those monies to the states, and allow the states to control their education programs. There should be some national standards, certainly, but the federal government bureaucracy should not be running the show. This is one political topic that I actually am, and have been, vocal about, so I won't go on too much here. I can say that one of our biggest problems is the notion that every kid should go to college. We MUST begin to encourage students to learn technical and mechanical trades or our jobs will continue to go overseas. 
• Economy: What a mess! I am NOT better off now than I was three years ago. In fact, I'm much worse off. Legislation has limited our free-market economy and there is far from adequate growth. Consumer confidence is gone. The economy was doing much better when it was allowing capitalism to function. We must have tax incentives to promote small business and stimulate job growth, but we don't need to go back to the New Deal of FDR and put job creation in the hands of the government. The government can't afford it and can't run such programs efficiently   .
• Judicially: The role of the judge is to interpret the law, not make law. (That one is pretty simple.)
• Pro-Life or Pro-Choice: Both. Yes, I know, how can I be both? I DO NOT believe that women should be able to use abortion as a birth control method. However, I do believe that a woman should have the right to have the choice. I would never encourage it. I am for life, not in the radical Pro-Life sense, but I would always encourage life first. 

Ok, I think that's all I'm going to get into for now. I've covered some of the biggies. I realize that many on both sides will think I am horribly misguided, and that's OK. Please don't feel the need to enlighten me. I approach politics at my own pace and in my own way. I watch both Fox News AND CNN, but I avoid MSNBC. I have watched every Republican debate in an effort to understand the candidates better, one of whom, I believe, will be our next president. I drank the Kool-aid in 2008 and supported Obama. I simply couldn't have supported McCain, but may have voted Republican if it had been a different candidate. I had great hope for change with Obama. I didn't agree with everything he stood for but hoped my support would be rewarded with positive change. My world at that time, as for many others, was falling apart financially, etc., and I thought there had to be something different. Well, different is what we got, but not for the better. I am not speaking of Obama on a personal level here when I say I am unbelievably disappointed in what we got. The change has not been good, we are not better off, etc. I will be voting Republican in 2012. 

So there you have it. My very, very generally spelled-out views. I am not afraid to express them, and as I said before, I don't believe others will judge our friendship on my views. If they do, then we probably don't need each other. More than anything, I pray for a return to confidence for our nation, better education for our children, stronger financial status, a more positive international  presence and image, and peace. We have an amazing nation which can never be replicated. It is the best nation in the world, but we need to preserve it. 

A bra by any other name . . .

If you've never worn one, you're lucky! I have never found a woman who considered wearing one to be comfortable. Personally, I would rather wear a corset (we used to call those a Merry Widow. I always thought that was strange.). What is this medieval torture contraption? A bra!!

I have shared many a Facebook status in which I complained about my bra. The bras I currently have were at one time almost comfortable, but that was several years ago. In the last couple of years they have lost their shape. I suppose there are some women who have little trouble shopping for one, but I was never one of those people. To begin with, I have always had a very broad back. It would be great if I was an Olympic swimmer in the butterfly relay, but since I'm not, it hasn't been very useful. On top of that, no pun intended, I've always had boobs, sometimes more boob than others, and sometimes a lot more boob on one side than the other. And they're boobs that go all the way up to the collar bone. The bottom line is that my upper back and my boobs have always taken up too much of my body. With all that in mind, you can imagine the difficulty in finding a bra, especially one that is comfortable.

I think I got my first bra in 5th grade. Like many girls that age, I was kind of proud to actually have one. Of course the boys had fun popping the strap, but you know how they are. I never really figured out how that was fun for them. Perhaps it was the first step in learning how to unhook one with one hand in later years. Even in my teenage years, it wasn't that bad having boobs. The trouble started in my early 20s. That's when my back started to ache, and the bra straps started leaving indentations in my shoulders.

By the time I was 25, it was just all out of control. The boobs were just too big, and difficult to contain. I worked part-time with a chiropractor friend of mine when I lived in Atlanta, Ga., and he explained to me that some breasts are light weight, but some are dense. Of course mine are dense. In an effort to demonstrate the weight I was carrying in my breasts alone, we weighed them. . . . 22 pounds!!! Imagine having two 10 pound bags of cat litter strapped to the front of your chest. That's what it's like! Ugh! My back hurts just thinking about it!

Then, by the time I got married, and then got pregnant, it got just plain stupid!! When my ex-husband was working on his doctorate and I was teaching school, I finally had good enough health insurance to take care of the boob problem. Because of the back trouble, insurance would fully cover a breast reduction! Hallelujah!! Unfortunately, two days before I got that word, I found out that I was pregnant, so it would have to wait. During my pregnancy, I was one giant breast on one side, and a twice as giant breast on the other side. Misery!! No such thing as a bra to fit those crazy gelatinous things. Two months after giving birth, I was able to have the breast reduction. I won't go into detail about that little surgery, but I can say I have NEVER regretted it. I only wish they would have removed more. To be honest, the most disturbing part about it was the fact that people kept saying to me, "You mean you're husband is going to LET you do that?" Hello??? They're MY boobs, not his. Anyway, I thought all my boob problems would now be over.  . . . I was wrong.

One advantage of the reduction was that everything was a little perkier, except for the side, bra fat part. This began the next stage of bra discomfort. With my second pregnancy, the boobs grew back some. Between the larger boobs, the bra fat, and the broad back, it's been a road of discomfort. Since then, it's the same routine, bend over, adjust the boobs into the cups. Once you do that, of course, you have to adjust the shoulder straps and then pull the sides and back down. As long as you stay perfectly still, you'll be fine. However, if you reach for something, if you turn in any direction, bend over, or even cough, it's all over. If you're in public, you can't adjust the girls to put them back in the cups, then they start sliding out of the bottom. If you move the shoulder straps, you mess up the back. If you pull the back, it messes the cups up again. As a teacher, who stands in front of teenage boys all day long, there's only so much adjustment you can stealthily accomplish.

The bottom line is that bras simply aren't comfortable! We are constantly adjusting them, pulling at them, tucking everything into them, only to have it all fall out within minutes. Can't we just stop the insanity? Isn't there someone out there who can actually make one that works??? We have sent men to the moon, but we can't have a bra that doesn't drive us to drink?? There must be an answer. Sports bras aren't it. They cut off circulation, smash the boobs into one giant roll across the front of the chest, and aren't very sexy. If you have small enough of breasts, you might be able to get away with wearing an undershirt, but I'm too warm natured for that. Couldn't stand 2 layers of clothes. So then comes the Genie Bra, which is what inspired me to write this piece. I've never bought one, I have no faith in the bra makers, but I know a couple of people who have. The general report is that the Genie Bra does nothing magical and doesn't grant any wishes. By their reports, it rolls up, causes back pain, cuts off circulation, etc. I give up. Perhaps one day I will have enough money to have one custom made, until then, what are they good for . . . .

• The other day, one of my fellow teachers, a male, came around passing out mints. The mints were held in the cups of a lovely magenta bra. Now, on the surface, some might see that as inappropriate, bordering on sexual harassment. However, if you knew the guy, it wouldn't bother you a bit.
• Another good use for the bra is as a double sling shot. Potential military use here!
• They could be used as a hammock for small animals.
• Knee or elbow pads --- the lacy ones would look lovely
• Ear muffs
• Face mask
• Storage --- I actually use this method all the time! It's great for holding my cell phone if I don't have pockets. Also when doing little tasks, and you just need another place to hold something.
• Filter water from a stream
• One of my favorite jokes: A Catholic bra holds up the masses...
  A Salvation Army bra lifts up the fallen...
  A Baptist bra makes mountains out of molehills...
  
• I have even read that they can be used for growing tomatoes

In the end though, a bra by any other name, is still a modern torture device. 

Defining a woman . . .

I think we all sometimes wonder how others see us, both inwardly and out. For instance, if you were telling another person about me, what would you say? Would you begin with my physical characteristics? If so, what would you point out? If you began with my personality characteristics, what would stand out in your head? (These are rhetorical questions, mind you, I'm not sure I'd really want to know the answers.)

So, as a single, middle-aged woman, who occasionally contemplates the dating world, I wonder how I would be defined to someone else. How would I even define myself?

Let's touch (and I mean ever so lightly!) on the hard part first . . . I've never been one of those women who everyone turns to see when she walks into the room, or who is secretly despised by other women for my physical beauty. Nope. Not me. But that's perfectly fine. I don't really like to draw attention to myself, and certainly don't want to be despised by anyone. I'm too much of a people pleaser for that! I guess I would say, I'm kind of short, brown hair (sadly thinning), brown eyes,  --- here's the hard part --- not exactly in athletic shape (ok, I'm overweight, but the other sounded a little better), I don't wear a lot of make-up, basically, just kind of average looking. However, I have been told several times in my life that I can be elegant, and even sexy sometimes.

This is actually kind of hard to do . . . perhaps a different strategy. Let's think about what I'm NOT.

I will never appear on any episode of The Real Housewives of anything! I have no fake or added body features. I admit to a breast augmentation, but it was reduction, not an addition, so nothing fake. I do have a chest, but don't think any amount of tight clothing would make it look like those ladies. I do not like to wear shoes with any kind of heels, so that would knock me off the show. I'm not interested in breaking my ankle or killing my feet for vanity. Some women actually find heels comfortable, and that's great, I'm just not one of them. I have tried hair extensions once, but that was because of the thinning hair issue, not because I was going for the long, perfectly coiffed hair look. I couldn't stand it though, just wanted to pick at the glue the whole time. As mentioned earlier, I don't wear a lot of make-up, so that would be another strike against me. As for the tight clothes . . .  I HATE wearing tight fitting clothes. I loved the leggings and big shirts of the 1980s!! That was perfect for me!! The big shirt could hide my belly, while the leggings would show my much more attractive and smaller legs. On top of that, it was all stretchy, and roomy, and COMFORTABLE! To be honest, I can't even tell you the last time I actually tucked anything in, and I'm not ashamed of that. Another "Housewives" quality I lack is the big, gaudy, ridiculously show-off jewelry they wear. I was regularly wearing silver before silver was cool. Even in the days when we all wore gold, I didn't mind a diamond or two, but I never wanted anything BIG! I never wanted a giant rock for my engagement ring. If I were to ever get married again, I don't think I'd even want a diamond at all. The ring isn't the part I want, it's the partnership. THAT is priceless. So, no fake parts, no heels, no perfect hair, no perfect make-up, no tight clothing, no big rocks dripping from me. Oh, and I wouldn't televise my life. So, I'm not a "Real Housewives" sort of woman.

How about more typical women? After all, those women aren't very typical.

I'm thinking of the various women I saw while dining out with my 12 year old son tonight at a popular local restaurant.

1) Women with bling: I have many friends who look great with bling all over them! Bling on the purse, bling on the shirt, bling jewelry, bling in the hair, even bling on the butt of their jeans. Well, I'm not one of them either. I've tried, but it just doesn't work on me. Maybe it's that whole not wanting to draw attention to myself thing.

2) Arm Candy: We've all seen those women who always look perfect, and their husbands like to show them off. Ok, some women are just naturally that way (damn them!), but some women accept that it's the expected practice. This is not an insult, mind you. My own grandmother was an absolutely beautiful woman! She was always dressed perfectly. Everything about her outfits went together perfectly from top to bottom. She never left the house without her "face on" and her  hair fixed. I can't say she was really arm candy, but Grandaddy was sure proud to be seen with her and have other men notice how beautiful she was. (Wait, don't we all kind of want that? Anyway, you get the point.) I'll never forget a defining conversation with Grandmother. We had just gotten into London on the night before flying back home, at the end of a few very busy weeks having attended my sister's wedding in northern England and then traveling around for the next couple of weeks. We were tired, on each other's nerves, both hungry, and needed to just go have a bite and go to bed for the night. As I rather impatiently waited for her to "put on her face," I said, "Why can't you just go like that? Who cares whether you have all of your make up on or not?" She looked at me rather incredulously and said, "People who love me care how I look. Your Grandaddy would be appalled if he knew I went out in public like that." I guess my point here is that I'm a woman who likes to look nice, but I don't want it to be a condition of any relationship.

3) The whole country/Nascar/redneck thing isn't me either. Now, I don't mean to offend anyone by that label;  I'm totally generalizing here. I only like a small selection of country music, not a big fan of Southern Rock, would rather have wine than beer, and have no interest in watching cars drive around in circles. Just not me.

4) The nagging loud-mouth or the no conversation woman: I saw several of these tonight. First of all, I'm not very loud. Yes, I've had my nagging moments, but I really don't think I'd be defined by that. I felt so sorry for some of the men who were on the receiving end of the nagging, that I almost wanted to go hug them and invite them to join me and Asa at our table. Then there were the women who just sat, staring off at nothing while engaging in absolutely NO conversation with their dining partner.

5) The flirt: Admit it, we all flirt, but the kind I'm not is the one who can sit at the bar and hang on every man within a mile radius. You know, the ever so charming, slightly silly and air headed type. I like to flirt too, but not quite so blatantly. Sometimes, just a little dab will do ya.

Let's face it, there are so many different kinds of women out there. I only mentioned a few here, and most women wouldn't fit into any ONE category. Is it possible to really define a woman then, to really give an accurate description of one? I don't think so; we are multi-layered beings. I like to look nice, but I also like to not have to. I like to be outdoors and do outdoor things (like my archery), but I don't want to live in the country. I have moments of sophistication and class, but I have just as many moments where I don't. I love to travel, but I also love to be in the comfort of my own home. I'm not stunningly beautiful, but I'm not unattractive. I don't have the perfect body, but my body can do many things incredibly, perfectly well. I'm educated, but sometimes you wouldn't know it. I'm strong, but not overbearing (I don't think.) I'm tough, but very soft. I'm gentle, understanding, loving, and kind. I love to do for others, usually at the expense of myself. I deeply value the people I love, and the relationships I've made through my life. I love music, but have zilch musical talent. I was raised Episcopalian, but have Catholic leanings. I love art, but have no artistic talent. I can handle a multitude of stresses without completely falling apart, but when I fall apart, I do it well. I could go on, but the point is.  . . how does any of that fit into a type of woman? What type of woman would you describe me as if you were asked? (again, rhetorical) So, if you ever get a notion to tell some wonderful single man about this friend of yours, how would you define a woman?

Rebel Without a Cause?

The other day, I watched a brief documentary on juvenile delinquency in the 1950s, and followed this with the great 1955 movie "Rebel Without a Cause." With each generation, we hear things like, "Kids today are just trouble," "what do kids have to be so depressed about," " WE never acted like that when WE were young," etc. Well, thinking about teenagers in the 50s, and teenagers today, I'm inclined to think that although the symptoms of the problems may indeed be different, the roots of the problem are still the same.

The documentary on the problem of juvenile delinquency in the 1950s was very stereotypical. I took issue with the fact that they portrayed it in racial terms, but wasn't at all surprised considering the time it was made. The delinquents they showed were both black and white, but when they said, "Delinquents come from neighborhoods such as this," they showed a poor black, urban community. Then, when they showed a town meeting to discuss the problem, the audience was primarily white middle class. I believe I saw one black man in the crowd. This didn't surprise me because there's been generations of such brainwashing, and isn't it still done today? Anyway, aside from all that, the delinquent kids were shown bullying others, drinking, smoking cigarettes, hanging around in intimidating gangs, dressing out of the norm, arguing with parents, misbehaving in class, etc. Sound familiar? Oh yes, and it mentioned smoking marijuana, and other "illegal mind altering substances."

We look back at the days 50 years ago as more ideal, more simple, more family oriented, and certainly more behaved! What did those kids have to be rebellious about? Most kids had a mom at home when they left for, and came home from school. Families supposedly did more together. Everyone was so much more proper and spoke in a more civil manner to each other. They didn't have the pressure of drugs, sex, technology, etc which are present for the youth of today. Right? We've heard all of that, but the reality is a little different. And, the root problems are the same. Teenagers then felt the same things teenagers now feel.

So what's the root of the problem? I'll give a disclaimer here that there are many, many roots, which are unique to each individual, but there are some common threads. The overriding problems are lack of acceptance, feeling misunderstood, a disconnection between parent and child, and a desire for love.  Watch the trailer for "Rebel Without a Cause," and see what you think:
"Rebel Without a Cause" trailer

So, the point? What you see in "Rebel Without a Cause" is nothing new. There is a young man, Jim, whose parents are dysfunctional, and completely misunderstand the needs of their son. All he really wants is a man to teach him how to be a man, not to run away from his problems and fears. His father is incapable of this. His mother's idea of handling problems is moving, and running away from them. There is another young man, Plato, who wants his absent parents to be there, and to have a real family. He's essentially abandoned by his parents, and he has nobody. Then there's Judy, who doesn't understand why her father is suddenly so distant from her. She feels unloved. Finally, there's Buzz, the leader of the little group of delinquents. He challenges Jim to a "chickie" race to the edge of the cliff. Whoever jumps from the stolen car first, before it goes over the cliff, is the chicken. Unfortunately, Buzz gets a strap on his leather jacket caught on the door and can't jump. Just before the race, we find out that he only acts so tough because he thinks he needs to keep up appearances, but he's really not a bad guy.

The death of their friend makes all the characters do a little self-exploration. They ponder those root questions I mentioned above, they deal with two losses, and somehow they come through it, bringing at least one of two of the parents along. In the trailer, you see the scene where Jim tells his parents they're tearing him apart. All that is evident in this film is still evident today. Somehow, that makes me sad, but it also makes me realize that we can come through it all too. Listen. Talk. Be patient.

Fences

As I sit here listening to the wonderfully strong winds blowing through the opening of my downed fence, it hits me that it's not really just my literal fence which seems hopelessly irreparable, but some of my figurative fences keep falling down too.

The fence around my back yard is ridiculously pathetic. It's rotten, it has holes from the dog of previous tenants, and I my neighbor and I keep trying to nail it back together. When the Property Owners Association complained enough about the gate, the owners finally replaced it, but nothing on the rest of the fence. My neighbor has confronted the property management company, and the actual owners, but they don't seem to get along too well.  According to each side, the other has been "threatening." I stay out of that. I just pay my rent, and try not to be a problem tenant. But the winds have been crazy around here the last few days, well, last few months really, and it has finally taken down a section between me and my neighbor which will finally bring the fence issue to an end. At least that's my hope, and at least for that one side of the fence.

So, it's been a tenuous fence from the start when I moved in 2 years ago. It has done it's best to protect me and to give me a certain amount of privacy, but it just hasn't got any staying power left now.

The same thing keeps happening with my figurative fences, and I'm trying to look at it with the same positive light. When I moved down to Texas a couple of years ago, I was shedding some of the stress, toxic people, and crap which had invaded my life like a soul eating parasite! It was a new beginning for me and the boys, but it was scary, really scary. No job, no home, no money, and 2 boys to take care of, but also a firm belief that it would all work. Well, it did, and it was the right thing to do, but although I really felt the fresh start, the leaving behind a lot of toxicisity, the return to people and places I love, etc.  . . . I also brought some of my own "fences" with me. As I think about those fences I brought, they are very similar to the physical one around my backyard.

The figurative fences I've built have provided me with protection from some of the dangers in my life. They've kept the "bad" out, but sometimes they don't let the "good" in either. I left some of them behind when I started over here, but the really strong ones were carefully packed in the car with me. You have to have really special permission to get beyond those walls, and few people do. But it's the weaker, rotten, patched fences I've been taking down lately. Turns out, they've done more harm than good. They hid , in a feeble way, some of the mess I've been living with. I can't hide the big messes from the world anymore. Surprise! I'm a mess! Everyone knows about the mess that we're dealing with regarding Ethan, everyone knows much of the mess that was my "marriage," the mess that it is dealing with my ex-husband, the mess that is often my financial world, etc. The reality is, we're all a mess, every single one of us out here in the world. Some just have stronger fences to hid the mess. But guess what, they don't last forever. Over the last two years, I've learned to let the rotten fences, which hid the messes, just erode on their own. Certain people have been helpful by giving me an ax to use to aid in that destruction. Now that they're crumbling, I realize how badly damaged they are. They weren't really doing much good in shielding me. It was a very thin veil. I want them gone; the maintenance on an eroding, rotten structure is more than I'm willing to give anymore. Wasted energy.

I guess I'm simply not ashamed to let my figurative yard be visible to the world anymore. It's not very attractive. I have a black thumb, the beds are a little wild, but they also grow some beautiful roses which require no care from me. The basics are taken care of. The grass is cut regularly, and the edges are trimmed. The weeds are there, but are in control enough to no longer get notices from the POA.  There is no sprinkler system, so the grass is a little dry, but it's there. It's patient with my rare watering. I would like for it all to "look" better, but most of the time, I really don't care.

When whatever portion of new fence is installed in my backyard, I'll look at it differently now. It'll be a nice addition to the yard, not a barrier to hide things.

And those other, really solid walls I carefully packed up and moved with me? Well, I'm working on those. They're pretty darn hefty though. Perhaps when I figure out the proper medieval siege instrument needed to completely penetrate them, I'll attack them more. The reality is, they protect some deep scars, and they'll take longer. For now, at least I'm ridding myself of the rotten fences. A start . . .

How Facebook saved my life . . . well, sort of

I started this a couple of days ago . . .

Today I made contact with a friend I taught with during the dark time that was . . . teaching in Atlanta! Janie was one of my favorite people there, and I don't know what I would have done without her. I was thinking about her last night and took a gamble that I was FBing the correct person. I was! It was wonderful to hear from her today. It's been 22, gulp, years since I saw her last. So this makes me ponder the gift of Facebook.

I was a reluctant joiner. Lots of kids at the college were getting on it and talking about it, but it seemed like a kid thing, and I was too crazy in my own life to spend time on anything else. What finally forced me to join was my 25th high school reunion -- but not until after the reunion. When I was helping to notify people of the reunion plans, I relied on Classmates, and thought that was pretty cool. It was a difficult reunion to find people for because it was only 2 years after Katrina, and everyone was scattered to the winds (I graduated from Riverdale High School in New Orleans, for those of you who were wondering what my reunion had to do with Katrina.) It was hard to get the word out, and anyone not on Classmates had to hear it by word of mouth. In the end, there were people still in town who never knew about it because that word of mouth hadn't gotten to them. That was a shame.

The reunion fell at a good time in my life, when I really needed it. I was still digging myself out of my divorce, and had stabilized just enough to realize that I no longer had any idea who I was anymore. My identity had been lost in wife, mother, worker. In my marriage, I had been kept distant from my friends without really realizing the extent of the distance. When I began to get MY life back, I wanted my friends back. I had missed them all terribly! I've always been a social person, and the friendships I've made over the years are one the most important things in my life. I rely on the kindness, support, laughter, fun, etc. I was always good about writing  (yes, actual letters) to people and visiting whenever I could, but all of that had been lost over the years when I was in Ohio and the "ex" was using his psychological manipulation to control my ability to keep the lines open. So, going to my 25th reunion was a HUGE way to rediscover myself. It truly shocked me as I heard the way people referred to me and described me. It was like they were talking about someone I hadn't seen in a long time! Oh wait, I hadn't seen that person in a long time. I kept having fleeting thoughts along the lines of, "She sounds like a pretty nice person," only to realize I was thinking that about myself. I was relearning the things I liked and valued, what was meaningful to me, what my goals had been in the past, and most importantly, what I still had to offer and give in my life. What an awakening it was!!! Had I not gone to that reunion, rediscovered these friends, and accepted the person they seemed to know, I think I wouldn't have been able to get off of the path I was on, which wasn't my true path.

When I returned home from the reunion, I wanted to stay in touch with everyone, and that's when I gave in to the FB addiction. When I fell, I fell hard. I would come home after a long, hard day at work, get the kids fed and in bed, and somewhere around midnight, I'd hop on FB and feel much less alone reading what others had done with the day and what they had to say, joking about silly stuff, etc. How I needed that company, virtual as it was, it was soooo real to me! I thought it was a great blessing to have the contact, but I didn't realize how much more was going to come with it. I had found high school and middle school friends, and I was happy.

Then one day, a friend called. She was a fellow little sister in my college fraternity (Sigma Alpha Mu aka Sammys), and one of the very few people I had managed to stay in touch with from that group of friends. She was as diligent as I was about contact, otherwise I'm sure I would have lost her too. My ex NEVER would have fit in with my Sammy brothers and sisters!! (Of course that should have been my first sign, right! He also didn't like New Orleans! Ding, ding, ding, ding!) Anyway, she had just discovered her daughter reading a book by the fantastic young adult author, Libba Bray! Libba was one of our pledge sisters! Cool! We had to find her. We did, not through FB though, but when she called to catch up, she mentioned finding one of the Sammy brothers on FB the night before.  . . . It had never even occurred to me to look people from other groups of my life up on FB! Why hadn't it???? So I sent him a friend request that night, completely sure he wouldn't even remember who I was. Fortunately he did, and within 24 hours, I had reconnected with nearly 30 people I thought I had completely lost forever!!! That number grew quickly, and huge! I couldn't believe it! I said to one of them that I thought I had lost them all, to which she responded, "We've been here all along,it was you who left. Glad you're back." She was right. Most of these folks I hadn't seen in about 20+years. By this point, the boys and I had already decided to move back to Texas, but that was when we were still planning to move to San Antonio. I couldn't wait to get down to see everyone, and I came as quickly as possible. It helped me realize that I needed to come back to Denton , where I felt at home, and be with people who knew the real ME again. What an amazing comfort!!

Last summer, another piece of my life was put in place when I found my elementary school class, through FB of course, and went to the class of 1976 reunion down in Houston. How anyone from that long ago could possibly remember me after all this time was so strange, but it was consistent with what I had already been discovering about myself. The bottom line was that when all the pieces of my childhood, middle school, high school, and college days were put together, they formed a mosaic of a person I enjoyed rediscovering. I did matter to other people. I was valued. I was worth it. I was ok. I was still in there, and slowly peeling back the layers of defense, hurt, struggle, and fear. I was there, and I was going to be ok because I was now on my way back. I had the pieces of my life repainted, I was back in the classroom where I belonged, I was closer to family and friends, I was in a much better state of mind to raise my boys and set the example of living a full life. It's still a work in progress, but I'm making forward movement pretty regularly.

I guess my point then is that Facebook did save my life in a way. Through it, I found all the people who played a part in various stages of my life. In each person, there was a little piece of me which they had unknowingly preserved, and gave back to me when I resurfaced. Ten or twenty years ago, I don't know how this would have been possible. I now know people I didn't know very well a long time ago, but have grown to dearly love. I know people I've never met, but are a perfect connection for my sense of humor, and I dearly love them. I have connected with friends I only knew for 10 days on a tour of Italy back in 1987, and although we have written each other regularly for all of these years, I have them at my fingertips now. The wonderful woman who used to do my hair in Denton remembered me even. Now think about how many heads she had seen? (Love you Jana!) And I now have Janie, from the Atlanta years. I love putting this puzzle together. I love my life, all of it, the good, the bad, and the ugly. It all makes the picture of me more complete, and that feels good.

In my Sammy days, we had a frat house with a great front porch where we would gather daily, laugh, talk, have a drink, give a hug, sometimes even do homework (nah!), and generally enjoy each other. It was a happy place to be, and I knew that if I was having a bad day, I could go sit on the porch for a while and feel better soon. When my Sammy friends are on FB, we have referred to sitting on the virtual porch. My porch has grown, and now my friends from different groups are making friends with my other friends. (I think you get it.) My virtual porch is big, it can hold lots of people, it offers plenty of love, support, humor, advice, and encouragement, and it's a very happy place to sit with ALL of my friends. :) I thank Facebook for bringing me the preservers of my life so I could have them back again.

A priceless Ethan moment from 2009

I ran across this when finding the other two posts about moving, and it gave me a happy giggle. I like giggling about Ethan, so I thought I'd share it too. Boys!

When is a rack not a rack?

by Leigh Range on Wednesday, February 11, 2009 at 1:11pm

This is one of those moments that I wanted to remember about my dear, sweet 13 year old son when he is older and complaining about his own children doing stupid things.

Ethan is home sick from school today, and actually wanted to do some science homework on the computer. Unfortunately, he's grounded from everything in life, so I had to break down and tell him where my laptop was hidden.

I told him to go into my closet and look on top of the lower rack on the left. Not too hard, right? For some reason he was struggling with these directions. After several rounds of, "I don't see it!" followed by me saying, "ok, there's a top rack, and a bottom rack. It's on top of the bottom rack." We each kept repeating these responses, and I'm wondering what part of his brain Ethan had actually damaged in his sleep somehow. I mean, the closet isn't THAT big, and we did determine that he was actually looking on the left side of the closet as instructed, what could the problem possibly be? Finally, after I rather forcefully repeated the top rack, bottom rack line again. He found it. Whew! Good lord! So I say, "Why on earth couldn't you find it before?" To which he responded, "Well, when you say RACK, I think BOOBS!" What???????

I proceeded to inform him that he was a complete idiot! His response to that was, "No, I'm just a 13 year old boy! To me, that's what a rack is." Oh I get it now, I'm thinking, because surely it would have made sense that I'd tell him to go to the closet and look on top of the lower BOOBS on the left side! Right?

When did we go from this:

Ethan at 6 months

to this?

Who, me?

Oh if he were only this easy now!!! I miss those days, but now know that he had already been exposed to ugliness and evil. Bless him. That sweet child is still in there, but he's scared and hurt. I pray daily that he will fieel the confidence to come back out.

Repost: Update on Move (2009)

Figured I might as well finish up the story of the great migration from Ohio to Texas in 2009. As you know already, we didn't move to San Antonio. Instead, we came back to Denton. Soooooo glad I did. I'm happy here. :)

Update on the Texas move!

by Leigh Range on Wednesday, June 3, 2009 at 1:13pm

I've gotten bunches of questions and notes from many of you asking what the hell I'm doing regarding the move to San Antonio, so I thought I'd write the answers in a note here to make it easier for all.

What the hell am I doing?
Apparently not exactly what I THOUGHT I was doing, but still basic plan in place. I've spent the last 10 days down in TX looking for a house, trying to make plans, etc. As I went about San Antonio looking for housing, schools and all, it just kept feeling more and more like this wasn't the right thing afterall. Moving back to Texas was definitely the right thing, but San Antonio was not feeling the right place to be within Texas. After a few days, I had a little breakdown and knew for sure that it wasn't where we were supposed to be. But now what? I've quit my job, sold my house, and have to go somewhere!AND have two kids in tow who can't know how incredibly confused I am or they will start to worry. Crap! Time to rethink this venture.

Many of you asked why San Antonio in the first place, and while my sister and dad were much of the reason, I also just figured I'd try some place new. That question was usually followed by the why not back up north to the D/FW area, and the best answer I could ever give to that one was because I'd already done that twice. However, in my frustration with the search in SA, all I wanted to do was head up north where I felt at home, and be with my friends. BELLS GOING OFF HERE! LIGHT BULB GOING ON! Duh! Maybe that's where I should be looking in the first place? Time for a gut check, so the next day I hop in the car and head up to Denton/DFW for the weekend, just to see. As I got closer, I felt more and more at home. I was also able to get in touch with some old friends at the former school district I worked for last, and even had a really productive day meeting people and talking on Monday. Everything seemed so much more "right." Housing --- well there's tons of it. School districts --- several good ones to choose from. Job opportunities --- more. Seems like a no brainer doesn't it? The other requirements of friends and family are more than met as well. And finally, I discovered I'm really not any farther away from family in Huntsville, Houston, and College Station than I was in SA. That was the last puzzle piece.

So, as I am almost always a "glass half full" kind of person, I've decided to look at this as a "third time's the charm situation." I think I just fought it for a few reasons that really don't hold up, and I have had many happy times up there both times I've lived there before. It all feels right, and that goes a long way.

While I was gone over the 10 days, all hell was breaking loose back in Ohio. Ethan and his father had a rather bad fight which led to Ethan (at 13) staying at the house by himself for most of the time I was gone. Fortunately, the house is still standing, and basically he did very well and was very responsible, but that whole common sense thing is still a bit of a missing link in the 13 year old brain. The other tragedy was that one of our cats died, and it was hard for me and the boys not to be together. We will miss our Gulu Gulu very much :( !!! It was a big surprise.

Now, over the next four weeks, I've got to finish up my job, pack up, sell up what I'm not packing up, make all the PODS arrangements, ship the kids off, and then on July 1st, Gertie (the remaining cat) and I will head down to the Denton area. For those of you who haven't been there for many years, it's not at all how you remember it, and yet it is. It is probably 3 times the size it was back in the old days, and the whole area has grown up so unbelievably that you just simply have to see it to believe it. Not really the small college town it used to be, but still maintains those characteristics as well.

I'll let you know when I have a final "planting" location after I get down there in July. All I can say is that life is weird, and sometimes those winds of change blow you in a direction you weren't expecting. The great bit of wisdom I've learned through many difficult and trying times over the last several year is, what happens as the unexpected is usually what the best answer is in the end. Sometimes you have to learn how to shut and listen, and pay attention to the signs in front of you. My stubborn nature has some difficulty in that area, but I'm getting better. The basic plan is still in place, just a new locale.

That's what's up with the move. If any of you out there are sitting around with absolutely nothing to do and think it would be fun to pack boxes, have a yard sale, and drive 1,200 miles with me and a cat, let me know! LOL

I love each and every one of you and can't tell you how much I've needed and appreciated all of your support. You guys do a great job of encouraging me and telling me I can do it. Thanks!

Repost: My Catch Up Story

This is something I posted a couple of years ago (2009) when I first started finding everyone on Facebook. I got tired of explaining the chaos every time, so wrote it up. Imagine that? Lol. Decided to archive it here.

My catch up story . . .

by Leigh Range on Monday, January 19, 2009 at 10:03pm

Chapter 1: I was born. (oh wait, that would be plagiarism!)

Seriously, I left off with some of you at high school and some of you in college, so skip around:

1982-88 The Denton, TX years:
went to college at what is now UNT --- joind Sigma Alpha Mu Fraternity (Sammy's) as a little sister --- loved it and made wonderful friends who I'm happy to have found again --- moved across town to TWU and finished my degree in education & reading --- taught at Grapevine Middle School --- great job! --- decided I needed a change so moved to Atlanta, GA

1988-89 the brief Atlanta years: taught 6th grade, loved the kids, but really bad teaching situation--- got very ill with Epstein-Barr Virus and couldn't continue --- came back to Texas

1990-92 the Huntsville, TX years:
got better --- went to grad school at Sam Houston State and earned a Master's in History -- certified in secondary history & English (just in case I needed. This was before I fully realized that you rarely get to teach history or social studies unless you can also coach something!) ---- really happy time --- studied mainly medieval and British history through Tudor period. Really, is there anything else? --- met future husband and moved on with him while he did his doctorate

1992-96 the Denton, TX years Part II:
married --- taught at Northwest HS in Justin, TX while husband goes to school --- loved this job! --- still miss some of those kids! --- had Ethan in 1995 !!!!! --- happy, happy, happy baby! --- got to stay home with him and loved it --- husband gets PhD in English from UNT and then gets a job

1996-2004 the Ohio years:
Move to Ohio for husband to teach at Muskingum College --- after first year, finally back in the classroom teaching at the College too as part-time and loving it!!! --- 1999 Asa is born!!!!! --- another sweet boy! --- Life seems pretty good

2004- present, still Ohio, but everything changes:
ooops, just thought life was pretty good, apparently we didn't all feel that way! --- need full-time job, husband leaving --- accepted offer of Asst. to VPAA for Student Services at Muskingum --- life of official single parenting begins --- learn tons of new skills in education programming, etc, but work too much, always worn out, too much time away from kids ---- hard to switch to no summers off after all these years! --- 2005 divorce is final --- boys and I move on --- lots of health issues --- I'll get over it --- stay positive, more out there for me yet!

Currently: realized in the last few years how much I miss my "old" self and working hard to get back there --- friends are priceless! --- been up here almost 13 years without family and couldn't have made it without my friends --- making some changes in my life, my kids and I are moving back to Texas, to San Antonio to be exact, and I'm going to go back to public school teaching--- I miss the classroom terribly and although I've enjoyed some aspects of administration, it's not for me forever --- looking forward to having more time with my own kids, and doing what I love and am best at--- know exactly what I need to do for me and the boys --- just a bit frightening making such a big move and change with kids in tow -- wish us luck!

Life may change, but some things, many of the best things, don't. My mantra is, "It is what it is." Live it, learn from it, and keep going. More to see, do, and experience. Don't want to miss out on anything. Love to travel!! In the course of all these years squeezed in a few trips to England, Ireland, and Italy, some of my favorite places. Art, history, beauty, peacefulness, and love make me feel alive. Adore Ethan and Asa! They suck the life out of me, but I wouldn't trade them for anything! Hope to get out into the world again in the coming year, maybe even go on a date . . . no, that might be going a bit too far.

Anyway, I'm happy and excited about life still. Hard not to be. I'm even more glad to have so many of you back in my life!

What's in a name?

So, I've been asked why I called my blog Dunbeg Dreaming: Thoughts from the cliff. Here's why . . .

Have you ever been somewhere that had an incredible, indescribable hold on you? A place where you're sure you've been before? I can't say that I believe in reincarnation in the traditional Hindu sense, I'm quite the Episcopalian in my thinking (Episcopalian aka almost a Catholic.) However, knowing that energy never dies, I have to believe that there are aspects of our souls which do pass through time, and since "time" is a human creation, who knows when anything is actually "happening" in the universe?!

All that being said, what does it have to do with Dunbeg Dreaming? Well, I've been to several places in my travels where I've had the overwhelming sensation I had been there before, in some other place and time. One example was my first trip to Rome, Italy, in 1987. I creeped out a friend I was wandering with for the day from our tour group, by never once referring to a map of the city, and yet getting us where we wanted to go with complete ease. After touring St. Peter's, we headed toward the Pantheon. I said to her, rather matter of factly, "Just follow me. I know how to get there." Off we went, and I was right. I hadn't even realized that I had done it. My friend pointed it out to me as we were wandering through the Forum and I was giving her a not-so-mini history lesson. Finally, she just stopped dead in her tracks and said, "Leigh, you are completely giving me the creeps! Stop knowing it like you were here yesterday!" Then I realized what she was talking about. Wow! Kind of creeped myself out after that. So when I went back in 2008, I thought I'd test myself to see if I still had it. Yep! As long as I was in the "old" section, I could go anywhere, know exactly where I was, and never get lost or confused. In the Forum, I had the same sense of recognition I felt 20 years earlier. Then, in order to test a little more, I ventured into the more modern sections, and I was completely lost. Ended up taking a taxi back to my hotel because I was totally disoriented, and that had nothing to do with the wine. :)

There are places in England where I've felt similar experiences, like in York, or the far north of Scotland. But the place I felt it the strongest ever was at the little Iron Age fort on the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland. It's Fort Dunbeg. That is a picture of it I'm using as my thumbnail here. I'll never forget the first time I was there. My sister, Katharine, and I were on a trip to Ireland together (2003, we think). It was my first time over, and I was loving every minute. My family history is pretty purely Irish, Scottish, English, and Welsh, so I always feel a strong connection to that part of the world. The Irish music sinks deeeep into my soul, as if I can feel it moving through my blood. I love the ancient history of the variety of peoples who inhabited Ireland, and I find it fascinating that there are no indigenous people of Ireland. Anyway, we were driving out on the Dingle Peninsula, and had seen Fort Dunbeg listed in one of the guide books, so decided to look for it. It's so small, and everything is blessedly not touristified there, so we almost drove past it. As soon as we got out of the car though, I took a deep breath of that cold, crisp, ancient sea air. As I went closer to the fort, I felt more and more "at home." I almost wanted to run to it like the Prodigal Son who hadn't been home for many years. It was an overwhelming feeling. The waves were crashing around the cliffs and rocks, the cold wind was blowing, and I have never felt more at home anywhere, at any time in my life. I walked through the doorway opening to the interior, and could just "see" all the activity and life that had been there. That fullness of soul is something so unusual. My mind felt crystal clear and at peace. I watched the waves crash, the sheep eating grass right up to the edge of the cliff, and just stood on that cliff --- thinking. I could have stayed there, watching the waves, feeling the air, etc. forever.

It's safe to say that Katharine didn't quite have the same experience. I believe her response was something like, "Yea, this is cool. Ok, it's too fucking cold! Let's go!" Not that she didn't appreciate it, but it wasn't the same. You crack me up Katharine!

In 2007, I had the priviledge of co-leading a group of students from our college in Ohio on a trip to Ireland. As my friend Meri Linn and I planned the agenda, I insisted that we make a stop at Fort Dunbeg. She was game for anything. We had a great group of kids for this trip, and it was clearly obvious on the day we did our Dingle trip. That morning is was cold, VERY windy, and light drizzle. The tour guide and bus driver had never even heard of Fort Dunbeg (and yes, they were from Ireland), and when the driver finally found it, the tour director looked at me as if I was a little crazy. It was just a little stone compound. Even worse, the wind was now GALE FORCE, with a driving rain that felt like needles!! So she says to me as I start to get up to leave the bus, "You don't actually want to go out there in this, on the cliff, do you?" Of course I do! I said that anybody who wanted to join me was welcome to, but it was optional. I just needed about 15 minutes and I'd be happy. Well, every single one of those kids went out there!! I was so proud of them! They didn't want to miss out on anything, even this little pile of stones. The wind was so strong we could barely stand up. Those kids ventured out to the cliff, climbed the rocks, and loved it! Fortunately, we didn't find out until that night just how strong the winds were, and thank goodness they were blowing inland! We didn't lose anyone off the cliff, and in the end, it was the favorite day for most of them.

So Dunbeg . . . . it's my home. Some part of me was there a very, very long time ago, and it is still part of my soul. I long for another trip back, but until then, I like to visualize the cliffs when I need to relax and think, and I'm dunbeg dreaming :)

A youtube video that someone took:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJ4cc6qOhKI

Mother's Day: the naked truth

Ok, now that we've all given our mothers the proper, and completely appropriate adulation for Mother's Day, let's look at the reality of it . . . . the whole motherhood thing is really pretty weird, from the very beginning!

I guess I should back up to the first parents. (I'm going to go with the creationist theory here for the fun of it.) First, God made Adam. Now think about that whole process. If the original plan was just for Adam, why did He give Adam a penis? God: "oh yes, the new creation is beautiful and handsome, but he seems to be missing something. How 'bout we give him a little permanently attached play thing? Hmmm . . . now he'll always have something to keep himself occupied." Poof! Penis attached! Apparently it wasn't enough for Adam though, and he needed a companion. So God made Eve.

Now, imagine the making of Eve. "Well, that attached play toy I gave Adam didn't quite keep him occupied, so I think we'll skip it on Eve, but maybe she can make use of that penis thing. Hmmm . . . while we're at it, let's make use of it productively. (pun intended)" So there ya go, sex was created, and procreation through the act. So, humans are different from the animal kingdom when we mate (I guess), but when you think about it, isn't the whole sex act to produce a new human being kind of strange? Just ponder it for a moment. It's ever so complicated for that one special sperm to win the race to the egg, and there can be all kinds of interference along the way to keep it from reaching it's goal. Uncomplicated physical act, but complicated fertilization. Then those two little microscopic entities join up, and an entirely new human being begins to form, INSIDE the woman, Eve. God: "I know, let's do this!!! Let Adam and Eve do the sex thing thinking that they're just having some fun, but then we'll give them a real surprise! He, he, he. And let's make sure Eve is the one to have the new being in the belly because Adam, although tough in his own way, couldn't quite deal with what would happen next."

What happens next? Morning sickness, swelling limbs, an unbelievably growing belly, lots of discomfort . . . and the wonderful feeling when you feel that being move for the first time, the joy when you literally watch a foot move across your belly, and that reassuring heartbeat. You wait for what sometimes seems like an eternity. Hey, this might be fun! After all, babies are so sweet, and it takes nothing at all to make us go silly over the slightest movement or facial motion. Yep, this'll be fun! And then . . . it has to come out of WHAT????????? Seriously? Childbirth . . . what can I say? It's one of the most natural, unnatural things in the world. Sex. Lucky sperm meets egg. Growth of a human being, floating around, growing all the parts, waiting to end it's physical parasite existence and enter the world. Bringing that little life out through a ridiculous place, the strangest pain you'll ever feel, and very quickly forget. Then boom!! The baby is here!

As mom, we have grown a parasite, which has become a new human being, and WE are responsible for it! Yikes!!! Then, the REAL journey begins! Every little thing is amazing to us. All the things they learn. Did you ever think you'd be cheering when someone was able to roll over? It's all so exciting that we suddenly have no problem handling lots of pee and poop all day. In fact, it's the most common topic of conversation. We don't mind at all being barfed on. When that little baby cries in the middle of the night, we hate to get out of bed, but are somehow relieved that it's crying, then equally relieved when that stops. We can handle all of it, until we hear the much dreaded word come from that adorable mouth . . . no! Gasp!! Did that sweet baby I carried for 9 months just tell me NO? Where did he learn that word?? Oh, from me. Ooops.

That's the point where it all changes. From "no" on, it's a different ball game. From that point, although there are many bright spots, there are many, many challenges. We have the moments where we think, "And we thought this would be fun?" And then we see the real miracle. Yes, the whole creation of life from the basic act of sex, the growth of a fetus, child birth, etc., all that is a miracle. Pure miracle! But the real miracle is the unbelievable love we feel for that child. There is nothing like it in the universe. It's there for mothers who have given birth, and those who have adopted. It's a switch that goes off in our hearts when we have the first awareness of this new life. No matter what they do, it never goes away. It causes us to react in ways we didn't know we could. It gives us unbelievable joy, and it can bring unbelievable pain. But in that miracle, the joy of the child always outweighs any pain. There is nothing like the love of a mother, and blessedly, nothing like the love of the child for his mom. There are lots of physical miracles, but it's the miracle of the heart that is most astounding.

I love you Ethan and Asa! :)

Is it hope, or faith?

I believe that I have basically spent the last year in fear. There were more years of fear before this, but they weren't quite as full of it as this one. On April 29, 2010, Ethan entered the hospital for the first time, in an attempt to deal with his substance abuse and any related mental health issues. He was 14. That day, as I walked out to the parking lot with his enormous shoes (he couldn't have them in there) and a stack of papers, I thought it could never get any worse. I felt alone, scared, anxious, sad, guilty, and about a million other things. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. I cried, and cried, and cried. I was leaving my baby there, and I had no idea what was going to happen. The only thing that kept me going was hope, and I had that because he voluntarily allowed himself to be admitted. I was proud of him for that, and it gave me hope that he would benefit from this.

From that point, I had to switch over to faith. Faith that he would get better. Faith that whatever it was going to take, it would be best in the end. Faith and prayer.

20 days later, he was sent home with 10 medications, a million diagnoses, and a very nervous mother. He had also picked up some bad habits while in there. However, what could I do but have hope that it would be an improvement and we could get on with life. Unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of faith that was going to be the case. So, five days later, Ethan came to me and said, "Mom, I don't think I was finished yet. I need to go back." The next day we checked him back in. Turns out he just wanted a few days off so he could get high for a while and had every intention of going back in the first place. Less faith, less hope. But here we go again because . . . what else are we supposed to do?

With every visit ,I felt like things weren't getting better, but were instead slipping away and out of control. What the hell was going on??? I was concerned about the massive amount of medications he was on, but how would I know if he was really suffering from bipolar disorder, ADHD, anxiety, OCD, etc. Can't even remember all the things they listed. After all, the doctors and staff there were supposed to be the ones in the know. I had to just HOPE that they were right. A couple of weeks back in, he revealed some things that he had experienced and been exposed to when we lived in Ohio. Without going into much detail, I can tell you that at the age of 12, he was exposed to evil, violence, and an inescapable obligation . . . oh, and drugs, lots of drugs. I didn't have a clue. He was well trained to appear to be a normal suburban kid. He dressed right, got in trouble for the right things like smoking cigars, ringing doorbells, etc. all so that I wouldn't suspect there was anything worse going on. And I didn't suspect. I knew he had other issues such as a father who had basically never been much of a father, insecurities about his appearance, struggling with math, and all the usual middle school issues.

This information was exposed on Friday, June 4. I went through the weekend trying to process it all and dredge up the hope that maybe we could now get to the root of the problem and begin to correct things. The following Monday night, just 3 days later, I received a call from the hospital checking to make sure I was going to be present at Ethan's mental health hearing Wednesday morning and his discharge to the state hospital in Wichita Falls. What?????????????????? "Do you mean you weren't notified that we had filed on Ethan?" No!!! What the hell does that even mean?????????? What mental health hearing? What discharge? What? What? What? The next 36 hours, if that long, was filled with anxiety, fear, false information, false documents, and a day I thought was most certainly the worst day I would ever experience as a mother. What kept me going over that 36 hours was Ethan. He kept reassuring me, constantly saying, "Mom, you know I need to do this. I'm ok." At the end of that day, I was a complete blubbering ball of mush. There isn't enough space here to write what all I felt, but what picked me up off the ground was faith. I didn't even know what to hope for, and I couldn't focus it, but faith, that was absolutely ALL I had to lean on. And off went Ethan to 3 months in the state hospital.

I remained faithful, but somewhat hopeless throughout that summer. All of the treatment he'd received was for mental health, and once in Wichita Falls, I discovered that that campus didn't have an adolescent substance abuse program. Navigating the mental health system is a nightmare!! I was a complete rookie and had many misfires. Throughout, I only had faith. I had lost a lot of hope. I knew he wasn't getting all of the right kind of help that he needed, but there did seem to be a little progress in dealing with the PTSD related to the Ohio stuff. The plan was that when he was released from the state hospital, Ethan would enter a substance abuse program to work on that component. Sounds logical, right? Only one problem, on top of the complete lack of adolescent treatment programs, especially dual-diagnosis programs, the ones that are out there wouldn't take him because he hadn't "used" in the last 30 days and therefore, insurance wouldn't likely cover it for them. No shit he hasn't used in the last 30 days!!! He's been in the fucking state hospital you idiots!!! At one point, my frustration was so high that I asked one of the intake people if I should just go buy him some pot so he would qualify. That's how crazy it was. In the end, he was released and came home, with no program in place. This couldn't be the right thing, I thought, and lost a lot of faith. Instead, I could only hope.

It didn't take him long to go back to the lifestyle he felt most comfortable in. From September, when he came home, until Thanksgiving, things got steadily worse. By the week after Thanksgiving, it had reached a dangerous point and I was downright scared. Scared to death! That was when I discovered he had been hoarding his medication to take as he pleased in the amounts and when he wanted, and was also using it to get what he wanted instead from others. When confronted with this, and told we were going to have to find a treatment program, he became violent. He was high, and remembers very little of what happened, but he threw things at me, broke things, trashed what he could before the police arrived. Once again, I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. Ethan was back in the hospital. Ok, have to dredge up some more faith and hope if I can find them.

Needless to say, that hospitalization didn't help either. Same story, diagnose him immediately and throw a bunch of meds at him. The incredibly arrogant ass of a doctor even told me he had "cured" Ethan in the first day or two. Right . . . . Two weeks later, he was home. I was scared. I knew it wasn't right, but wasn't given any choices. Ethan had now been in the hospital 4 times, but none had dealt with the substance abuse issue. He'd been hospitalized, but not rehabed. Things went downhill again by January, and kept spiraling downward more and more rapidly. After 4 hospitalizations, two psychiatrists outside of the hospital, incredibly thorough psychological and brain testing, and about $30k, Ethan didn't seem to be any better, and was possibly even worse. I was terrified that he would not survive himself, but there seemed to be nothing else I could do to help him if he wasn't going to help himself. Natural consequences were going to have to catch up with him, but I was so very afraid it might be too late. I had no way to control him at all. It was horrible, frustrating, frightening, every anxious moment was rooted in fear. I rapidly lost hope and faith. I prayed a lot through this last year, but in the last couple of months, I was actually praying for him to get arrested. Probation was the only thing I thought might save him.

Then finally, it happened. He was truant, as usual, and when he was picked up, he had some prescription meds on him, but they weren't his. Bingo!!! They brought him up to my school to bring me in and confirm his story, and he was arrested. As odd as it may sound unless you've been there, I was greatly relieved! When the court decided to keep him for 2 weeks, I was hopeful. Probation! Yea!!! Perhaps that, and a couple of weeks in juvenile detention, would scare him into soberness. The judge even sent Ethan's father a summons to appear at the next hearing. I admit to some satisfaction at seeing him have to finally act a little responsible for his son. Then, 2 more weeks while they did the evaluations, etc. Finally, people were listening to me. They were shocked at what all we had tried to do and what had happened. The probation officer completely "got it" and began the process of keeping him safe! I found hope again, and my faith grew. I actually trusted that these people were going to get him the help he needed. This meeting with the probation officer was exactly a year to the day, April 29th, of Ethan's first hospitalization.

So, here we are today. At today's hearing, he was ordered detained until a space opens at the program. That placement is typically a minimum 45-60 day placement. If he needs more beyond that, he will go to additional long term care for 6-9 months. It's hard to think of him away for so long, but I'd rather have him away for a long time, and maybe even angry at me for years to come, than not here at all. I need Ethan alive, and I have faith and hope that he can do this, no matter how long it takes. That wonderful child many of us remember is still in there. He will be scarred, but he can come back.

So what is hope? What is faith? They are two different things. In this case, faith has been when I have little else to lean on and need to believe that what is happening is right for the purpose it serves, whether I like it or understand it, or not. Hope is when you believe there is a future, and it will be good. Tonight, with the blessing of Ethan's cooperation, I have both. I have faith that our journey together is serving a purpose, and I so want to help any other family going through something similar. It's the worst nightmare. I have faith that Ethan can come through this and put all of these experiences to good use. I also have hope for the future, and for happiness for all of us. I also pray . . . . a lot!

It' not your mama's prom . . . but not much different either.

Yep, that was MY senior prom back in 1982. Let me just say, it wasn't the highlight of my high school years. Nobody asked me, so I asked a guy  I worked with. All I can remember is that his name was Steve, he wasn't a lot of fun, and he didn't bring me flowers. (That is now a long running joke, the whole flowers thing.) The best part of the evening was partying with all my friends at Pat O'Briens and at the Marriott. That was fun, and I'm glad I went.

The next proms I went to were with my ex-husband, when I was a teacher at Northwest HS. For the first one, I had a great time seeing the kids enjoying themselves, etc. The second one, I was VERY pregnant, and just wanted to go home and get off my feet. I should also mention that my "date" to those two was actually less fun than the one I had in 1982. Not trying to be mean, just the truth.

So last night I went to the prom at my current high school. I really, seriously loved seeing those kids looking all dressed up, grown up, and having fun! They looked beautiful and handsome, and they danced like crazy people. They just went for it!!! There were other things that were quite different from any other prom I've attended before, and it said a lot to me about how the world has changed. It used to be that you HAD to have a date to go to the prom. Going with a group was ok to the other dances, but not prom. Now though, it was perfectly ok to go with a group, all girls, all boys, or mixed. I loved that! They had the right attitude to not miss out on the experience just because they didn't have a date. Bravo! Another difference, I have a couple of girls who are an openly lesbian couple. They had their nice dinner out, took their "couple" pictures, and had a wonderful time. Nobody whispered and talked badly about it. It was just them. The ability of the young to be more tolerant about at least some things, is comforting to me. Yes, they still have some areas of tolerance to work on, but there's progress. There are also some "mixed race" couples. That NEVER would have been accepted in New Orleans in 1982!! No freak out about it now. Bravo again! There was also the couple who came in the fantastic duct tape tuxedo and dress! (When I get an ok from him to put a picture on here, I'll post one.) He is an incredible artist, and it shows in the amazing creativity. 

I suppose the final observation is that it was formal and informal; it was traditional and non-traditional. It was a great celebration. The students displayed their own unique identities in what they wore, what they did, and how they enjoyed themselves. It was wonderful to see, and I'm very glad I went. I needed the hope and happiness I saw there for a couple of hours. I'm not trying to over dramatize a simple prom, but I felt happy for them and with them when I left. I appreciate my students. They drive me crazy often, but they also give me hope.

 

Here is the duct tape tuxedo (complete with accessories) and prom dress! Amazing! All strips of duct tape.

Oh, and here's the other thing that hasn't changed about prom . . . .

Things I mourn . . .

As we move through life, our dreams, expectations, and hopes are constantly changing. Some are lost completely, some are fulfilled beyond our wildest dreams, and some are adjusted as we go --- sometimes over and over again. The anxiety I've dealt with over the last year regarding my son, Ethan, is heavy on my mind now, and it makes me realize what I have forever lost with him.

It's possible, of course, that he will survive the turmoil of his life, but regardless, it will never be the same. That happy, smiling, bright hearted, child is now scarred. All of those qualities may return some day, but the scars will now always be there. My dreams of his high school days are shattered. I don't care about the grades or anything like that. What's to be mourned here is the fun, joy, silliness, and typicality of being a high school student. Yes, it's hell for a lot of people, but because Ethan was the way he was, I always thought he would just revel in the little parts of it all. I saw him as an active kid who stayed involved, I thought about the girlfriends he would have, the homecomings he would celebrate, his prom, getting his driver's license, picking colleges, and graduating. At this point, I just want Ethan to survive himself. If he manages to get a GED, I'd be thrilled. If he is able to go on with his life in a productive, happy, or even contented manner, I'll be beyond thrilled. Survival, not graduation announcements are the goal here.

I mourn the loss of a marriage, even though I'm grateful to no longer be in it. When a marriage ends, even if it is a good thing to end, you think of all those things you'll never have with that person you hoped to spend your life with. Gone is the growing old together. Gone is the two parent, unified front. Gone is being the stability for your children. Gone are all those future scenes you've created in your head: the ones where the two of you are at the wedding of your child, the ones where you two are at the birth of your grandchild, the "Grandparents", etc. It's not that I won't still have the opportunities to experience these things, it's just that the images are now adjusted. Instead of growing old together, it's possible I may just grow old alone. Instead of being a two parent unified front, it's just me, and that's all there is. Instead of giving your kids the ability to say, "My parents have set a beautiful example of stability in life" they will get to say, "My mom has always been there for me." I know that I'll be there for all the big occasions of my kids lives, but I may very well be there alone. I may also have someone else with me, but if I don't, I won't let it hold me back. Adjustment, figure it out as you go.

I mourn the loss of time with people I miss. I miss my grandparents, especially my grandmother. I don't think I'll ever fully "adjust" to that loss. I miss the time I should have insisted on with my step-father. I shouldn't have allowed myself to be manipulated into not spending time with him and having my kids know him better. We can't get this time back, and the "should-haves" will drive you crazy. Just mourn it.

I even mourn the financial losses. Not that I want to be swimming in money, but I will most likely never be able to retire as I would have liked, nor will I be able to leave "something" behind for my kids, as my ancestors tried to do for me. About 10 years ago, the whole family was on a good financial ride, thanks to Walter my step-father. We all benefited, we all enjoyed it, we all thought it would last. But it didn't. Walter's illness, bad investments, bad stock market, etc. took it all away. Oh well.

I don't mourn all of these things in a mood of doom and gloom. I'm just making note of it. I'm airing it. I'm putting it out there so perhaps I can let it go. I blame myself for lots of things in my life and the lives of my kids, but it does little good. I'm continually trying to stay on the positive path. I'm constantly reciting Walter's favorite saying, "Leigh, it is what it is. Now, what are you going to do with it?"

Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to pray and hope for the best for Ethan, and be joyous in the small accomplishments of survival he gives me. I'm going to hope and pray that Asa continues to grow in the healthy, relatively happy, wonderful path he's on. I'm going to adjust all the dreams I once had about my marriage, be glad that I'm no longer in the pain and hurt of it, and I'm going to be open to anything and everything that may come my way along those lines. I'm going to remember all the happy memories with the people who are no longer here. The money? Who cares! It'll all work out in the end.

I mourn, but I also can't wait to see how my life will turn out. I have no idea what will come, good or bad. I will continue to adjust, acclimate, assimilate, etc. After all, it is what it is; now, what am I going to do with it?

Gorgeously beautiful, adorable, and ever so loving. Diana was clearly present. There's been so much misery in the world lately with earthquakes, tsunamis, wild fires, tornadoes, etc. I think we needed a little love and joy for a day! Aside from all of that, it's wonderful to see William and Harry grow up into these great young men.

The Royal Wedding . . .

So yes, I'll be tuning in at 4 a.m. in the morning to watch William and Kate get married. I almost feel obligated. I'll always remember watching Charles and Diana back in 1981. It was only about a week or so before my sister and I went to London for the first time. It was so exciting. Diana was just a charmer, and she drew you in with her innocence and naivety. She seemed to embody the whole "princess" image, and we all wanted only happiness for her. Let's face it, she was willing to marry Charles, and he never really struck anyone as the "handsome prince who comes along to sweep you off your feet" kind of guy, right?

Just look at the body language in both of these engagement pictures. In the one of Charles and Diana, Charles is sitting with his arms crossed while she is hugging him. Charles isn't exactly exuding warmth, and he looks quite uncomfortable in such a casual shirt, pose, etc. Diana is the one doing all the loving in that picture. Then look at William and Kate. What a difference! He is holding her in a very protective and loving manner, while she happily melts into his arms, yet also shows her own strength. Their smiles are beaming and mutual. She knows what she's getting into, and they've been together long enough to know each other well. So very different from his beautiful, young mother 30 years ago.

I am a registered Anglophile (if there is such a thing), and anything of an historic nature like these royal weddings, excites me. I'm glad William and Kate are getting married at Westminster Abbey! It's so beautiful, and IS a quentissential part of British history. When we went to the Abbey back in 1981, it wasn't very crowded. You could really wander around, take your time, and enjoy every tiny historic millimeter of it. You could just feel the experiences there over the centuries. It was wonderful! Then, the last time I was there, 1998 I think, it was a completely different experience. I had to wait in line forever to get in. Then, was herded through along the designated path at a designated pace. In addition, every 15 minutes, a chime would ring indicating that we were all supposed to be quiet and still for a moment. It was the oddest experience in any cathedral I've ever had! It didn't even feel like the same place I'd been to on my previous visits. Very little time to soak up all the great dead folk and their tombs. In the end, I couldn't wait to get out of the cattle chute. Of course that was all a result of Diana's funeral there. Tragedy upon tragedy.

So in the early morning hours, let's bring some happiness back into the Abbey with a happy wedding! We watched William as he was brought out of the hospital for the first time, watched him as he toddled around the grounds at Buckingham Palace, watched him welcome his new little brother, watched as he went off to kindergarten, off to Eton, off to St. Andrews, the military, etc. We watched as William and Harry walked so bravely behind Diana's coffin. We've watched him for his entire life. Let's watch him as he and Kate enter their new lives together officially. Can't you feel Diana there already?