Goodbye 2012 You Were A Great Year

We just finished our traditional New year's Eve dinner of lobster and steak.  Dinner with family and friends is a great way to finish a year, especially the dinner we just finished.  I decided this morning, after my shower, that I was going to spend the last day of the year in my comfy housecoat; just watching TV, reading a book and playing on my computer.  It is somewhat of a hedonistic feeling just lounging all day.  December 31st, 2012 will be a happy memory.

This year has had its share of winning and losing, although I think the winning has been bigger than the losing; at least it feels that way.  There have no deaths in my immediate family and strangely no births.  We did lose our beloved Poppy and we gained a little, blond Labradoddle puppy named Luna.  I call her Tic, which makes her name Lunatic.  That name seems to suit her right now.  I feel a little strange as I start loving her, kind of like I am disloyal to Poppy.  Then I think that Poppy would love her.  She would have played with her and enjoyed her.  I miss you Poppy and sometimes think I see you outside or in the house.  Six, our German Shepherd, was not at all thrilled by a new puppy.  Six is a really serious dog and definitely has the pack mentality.  We, the family, are Six's pack and she takes her job of looking after us very seriously.  I think she is beginning to accept Tic as part of the family or her pack, she's not liking it much yet but the process has started.

There are 3 babies expected in 2013 in my immediate family.  Two will be greatgrandchildren of mine and the other will a great niece.  One of the really good things that happened this year was that I reconnected with one my sister's children.  She was here in August with her husband and 3 children.  The week before they arrived for the visit my niece found out she is pregnant with 4th child.  Her visit was one of the highlights of my year.  I was fairly busy, at least as busy as I want to be with my little business.  I am a pet/house sitter.  What a great job that is.  Spending my time with people's adored pets in their homes.

All in all 2012 has been a good, happy year, spent in a loving warm home, with my warm and loving family.  Does it get any better than this??  I don't think so.

Monday, December 31st, 2012...........10:57p.m.
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"The Bad News Is Time Flies. The Good News Is You're The Pilot" Michael Altshuler

My friend Karen sent me this quote.  She finds the most interesting quotes and the apropos to me.  In an earlier post I mentioned that as we age it may seem that days are long but years go so quickly.

The encouraging part of this quote for me is that I am the pilot of this flying machine we call life.  This is something that I believe most of forget a lot of the time.  I belong to an organization where we acknowledge we are powerless over many things in our lives.  However, we are not helpless.  I can choose how I spend my time.  I can choose what I read, what I watch on TV and who I spend time with.

I can't seem to choose how much pain my knees are giving me, but I can choose to see a Dr, which I did.  Now I have to choose whether I want to pursue surgery or whether I wish to avoid the risks that go with that.  I can choose to give into the "Poor Me's" or be grateful that I still have reasonable mobility and that I have access to medication that eases the pain when I really need it.

When I am living the life that I am living it is hard not be grateful for all the things I have.  If I could give the world a gift for Christmas; it would be a family as loving as mine, friends as caring and a past that has taught me to value the present and appreciate it.

Thank you Karen for the quote, as usual you sent it right time.

Thursday, December 13th, 2012......12:24p.m.

"Love Is Really The Only Legacy Worth Having"

My last post was about the death of our beloved dog Poppy.  I received a comment from a woman in the UK who I only know as "Dreaming In Stitches", the quote above was part of her comment to me and I thank her so much.

Probably the scariest thing about dying to me and perhaps to most of us is that we will be forgotten, that we really haven't left anything of significance.  Saying that money isn't important is fine, especially for those who have a lot (they are usually the ones saying that). However, if you have lots of money you can leave a great monument that bears your name and perhaps you won't be forgotten as quickly.  I would leave a huge Library with all of the amenities.  A Library that was open 24 hours, for those who can't sleep and the TV just doesn't do it for them, a safe place, a haven, where you could be part of a group or alone but know others are there.  A place full of books.

But I don't have that much money, so I will probably leave "The Only Legacy Worth Having".  I have resigned myself to the fact that when I die no one will say "Her house was always spotless, you could eat off her floor", all though I have eaten off my floors a few times when I dropped something.  I hope that people will say "she was always welcoming, she always had time for me, she always listened, I always knew she really cared".  That is the legacy I would like to leave.

Afternoon Thoughts

Thursday, November 29th, 2012.............1:12p.m.

Poppy Died Today

This afternoon at 1:37p.m. we lost possibly the most loving, caring and forgiving member of our family.  Poppy was 6 or 7 years old.  I remember Tami got her after her Father died; she needed something else to love.

It has been an emotional day for all of us.  Poppy is buried under the white birch tree that I got Tami and Dennis for their birthdays over a year ago.  It is the remembrance tree.  I think that is such a good idea, having a remembrance tree.  Fergie, a previous dog is buried there and there is a picture of her dad buried there.  Someday I hope to be buried there, even though I have bought a plot in Fenelon Falls.  My tombstone is even in Fenelon Falls, it may be that I have some control issues, I had the inscription done the way I wanted it.  However, now I think I want to be under the tree with the beloved animals and my children's father.

While watching a Documentary on TV last night I heard something that caught my attention, this is a quote from Joe Hutto "When we live in the abstraction of the future we betray the reality of the moment".  I was going to do a blog on these words, but it seems so appropriate now.  Poppy had the great gift of living in the moment, she never betrayed the moment with the abstraction of the past or future.  She taught us all many lessons, perhaps the biggest lesson for me was to forgive, immediately if possible, that is what she did.

I was aware of Poppy's spirit leaving her body.  I am so glad that I got to experience that.  She died surrounded by love.  May we all have that much love when we die.

Thursday,  November 22nd, 2012.........5:16p.m.

I Mean It...I Really Don't Care

The 70er I get the less I care about many things.  At this moment I don't give a rat's ass about who Generals, Movie Stars, Politicians, Sports Figures, Co Workers, Neighbors and everyone else on the planet copulate with.  I am trying to think of something that I care less about but for the life of me I can't.

There are so many things in this life that I do care about.  I don't watch the news to see and hear about who's doing who. One thing does come to mind; if I ever need a serious operation, I would like the best surgeon possible.  I don't care who or how many people they are or have fornicated with, I don't think that makes a difference to their surgical skills.  And if I ever need a really good lawyer I don't care with who and or how often Mr. Greenspan has sex.  The same applys to plumbers, carpenters, electricians etc etc.

There are so many important, some terrible, some wonderful things to care about in this life.  How about world hunger, famine, war, disease etc etc?  How about seniors living below the poverty level.  I care so much more about 70 something people being forced to live in conditions they have no say in, than who is screwing who.....Just Saying

Tuesday, November 13th, 2012...........4:32p.m.

The Advantages Of Aging

I think all to often I dwell on the disadvantages of getting older.  There really are some good things about being 70 something.  For one thing I don't care as much; I am not sure that I ever cared a lot, probably not, at least not as much as most people seem to care, or perhaps I just care about things that most people don't...whatever.

I can remember the years and years and years that I went to work every morning.  Many of those mornings I would think, "I would love to sleep in this morning".  Now I make a point of sleeping in almost every day.  For as far back as I can remember, at least 65 years, reading has been my favorite thing to do.  Now I bring about 6 books home from the library every week and sometimes I get 5 of them read.  I used to always say "One of my greatest regrets is that I will never live long enough to read the books in the world'.  I still won't but at least I am working on it.  I also very much enjoy writing, now I at least write a blog.  I have had a book in my head for many years, it is called "Living In Other People's Houses", a series of short stories that would be mostly autobiographical.

What I wear has never been of great importance to me, now I can definitely live by my clothing motto.
"Is It Clean And Does It Fit?"

There have been times in my life when I would be concerned that I enjoyed observing life more than participating in it; now I just let myself enjoy observing.  I don't have to work, so when I do I make sure I am doing something I enjoy; I spend time caring for animals and "Living In Other People's Houses".  No one expects me to do a lot of housework, which I never did do anyway, only now I don't feel guilty about it.

Afternoon Thoughts

Saturday Afternoon, October 27th, 2012......4:21 p.m.

Gratitude

I have been wanting to write this blog for at least a week.  During that time I have been more aware of all that I have to be grateful for than usual.  I think, I hope that never a day goes by that I don't have moments of gratitude for all the good things in my life.

I live the most wonderful family in the world, and everyone who knows them even slightly agrees with me.  There is much love in this household.  Jonathon, my youngest grandchild, has a  friend  who lived with us for awhile.  After a couple of weeks of living with us, he told me one day "I have never lived in a house where everyone likes each other".  Those words have stuck with me, I thought at the time how very sad, then I remembered that in the house where I grew up, not everyone liked each other and we all spent a lot of time dealing with our negative emotions.  Mine was fear, fear of my Mother and almost everyone else. It wasn't a home, it was a house, and a scary one most of the time.

My health is not perfect but it is good.  For the past 2 years I have suffered, and suffered is the right word, with pain in my knees.  Last week I went to my Dr and he told me that I didn't need a knee operation but I did need relief from the pain.  Now I have pain relief available when I need it.  What a relief that is.  I have been walking around for months fearing an operation, now, not only do I not need one but I have medication for the pain.  I am grateful that I have a new Dr. who seems to really care about me being comfortable.  Now when I wake up in the morning with a lot of pain in my knees I know that I don't face the entire day and night with that pain.

My youngest son, Rusty, has been working for a friend of  mine for the past 10 or 11 days.  I have spent three of those days and nights with him and my friend. I love spending time with my children.  I still marvel at the wonderful, unique, and talented people that came from my body.

I have family, friends, interests, and I am loved and able to love in return.  Life has given me so many gifts and I am truly grateful.

Afternoon Thoughts

Tuesday, October 23rd, 2012................2:22p.m/

"Pain Is Inevitable, Suffering Is Optional"

I am not exactly sure who first said this, but I do know it comes from a Zen Master.  I like the word, I agree with the words, it is just that at the time of being in pain the words don't help a whole lot.  When the pain first arrives, be it physical or emotional, I am to immersed in the pain to even remember the words.  There are some pains that only an anethesetic or time, lots of time, can heal.  Even then it isn't really healed, possibly it is numbed or dulled but not healed, at least not for me.

Sometimes I find physical much easier to deal with than emotional pain.  I do not have a high pain tolerance, so I usually deal with physical pain quite fast.  I will show up at an emergency room or my Doctors pretty quickly with physical pain and I will loudly proclaim my discomfort.  I will seek relief from my physical pain almost immediately.  My emotional pain I seem to deal with quite differently.  I live in my emotional pain for long periods.  I can almost get comfortable there.  I can withdraw, cocoon, eat myself fat, sleep myself silly and do all kinds of self medicating.  The best remedy for emotional pain for me is to talk about it, in fact for me that is probably the only remedy.  And for some reason I find talking about it very difficult.  I quite often feel shame for having emotional pain.  Sometimes I feel like it is my own fault, and no doubt sometimes it is.  That doesn't make it any easier to live with, just more difficult to talk about it.

Sometimes I make mistakes, now how easy is that to talk about?  Sometimes I am betrayed by people I care for and trust.  That is also not easy to talk about.  Because I have a strong belief in Karma, there are times I believe that I have done something wrong and what went around is now coming around.  For me when it hurts enough I finally do something about it, be that therapy or talking to a friend or a family member.
You would think that A 70 Something Woman would have learned this lesson a long time ago, wouldn't you?

Afternoon Thoughts

Thursday, October 4, 2012.........6:45p.m.

The Terminology Of Death

For quite a while I have wanted to write about the words that so often are so often used around death and dying..  Some times these words make me want to laugh and sometimes they make me angry.  As a 70 something woman I don't understand why we avoid the words "death, dying and dead". All these words are in the dictionary yet we seem to treat them like we used to treat bad or dirty words.

When someone is ill, terminally ill, we are so reluctant to use the word dying.  It amazes me and even amuses me the lengths we go to to avoid using these words.  When a person is that ill we like to use different words and phrases, like he/she is doing poorly, after a week or so we move from poor and poorly to failing.  Now the dying person is failing, that always makes me think that the dying person isn't trying hard enough, if they would just try a little harder they wouldn't be failing, would they?  Most of learned in about grade 4 or 5 that if we were failing we should work harder, study harder then we wouldn't be failing.  After usually a length of time failing they "PASS".  Apparently in the end everyone passes, no matter how long they were failing.

Even then people don't die apparently.  After 'passing" they enter into rest, go to their reward, I guess the reward is for passing.  There are a lot of ways that we have found to avoid using the words dead and death.  I have found that the 70er I get the stranger this seems.  I would like to get my great reward while I am still alive.............just saying.

Afternoon thoughts

Wednesday, October 3rd, 2012...........4:18p.m.

My Mother's Birthday/Deathday

My Mother was born on August 24th, 1920, she died August 25th 1986, one day past her 66th birthday. I can never think of her Birthday without thinking of her deathday.

I have written about my Mother's death before but I feel a need to write about it again.  I had many feelings when my Mother died; loss, relief, a feeling of a lot unfinished business, but most of all a feeling of "disbelief".  On some level I could not believe that she allow it, dying I mean.  I always saw my Mother as overpowering, over bearing and dominant, and not in a good way.  My teacher from years ago used the best descriptive word for my Mother "formidable".

At the time of my Mother's death we had the same Doctor.  He had told me weeks earlier that my Mother was terminal and had weeks to live.  I heard what he said, but I didn't really believe it, or if I did I had buried that information so deep down that I didn't think about it.

Yet I knew the day of her birthday that year that she was dying and she was dying that night.  I stayed at the hospital all night that night.  The night started like the many others that I was at the hospital.  My Mother was not on any medication for pain because up until then she had experienced little to no pain.  Between 10 and 11p.m. that was all to change.  She had pain, a lot of pain.  There was a state of confusion at that point. (The state of confusion is one of my if not favorite states, at least it is one of one of my most familiar).  our Dr was moving from a rented house into the new house he had just had built.  Apparently he was unreachable.  This was 1986, pre cell phone days, it seems now that no one is unreachable anywhere, anytime.

Anyway, my Mother's pain was intensifying and there was nothing on her chart about pain medication...It now was 1:a.m. on the 25th of August.  I asked the nurse nicely at first, then I asked her not so nicely, then I demanded that she give my Mother something for the pain.  She explained again and again about the being nothing "on her chart" for pain medication and about being unable to reach our Dr to get his permission for pain medication.  Finally I exploded, I rarely if ever do this.  I told the nurse that I could find the Dr., his new house was just a mile from where I lived at that time.  I told her that I would throw rocks or bricks throught every window of his new house until I got some attention.  At this point she found another Dr in the hospital who ordered pain medication for my Mother, amazing what threats will do, especially when you really mean it.  My Mother was given morphine by needle at this point.  The nurse knew she dying, the blood clots that were in her leg were moving to her heart and lungs.  The nurse told me that the norphine would hasten her death by perhaps hours. Like who the hell cares, you can can live 6 hours in excruiating pain or die with no pain in 4 hours,  Duh............

My Mother died at 4:20 a.m. that morning.  I missed it.  I was in the lounge having a cup of tea and a cigarette at that time, you still could smoke in hospitals at that time.  9 out of 10 Drs had stopped smoking Camels, but smoking was still allowed.  When I walked into my Mother's room a nurse met me, she told me my Mother had passed, (I hate the term, what is the alternative? failing)  I was left alone in the room with my Mother.  I looked at her face.  My Mother had mentioned once to me about the hairs that grew out of face, I always remember her with a pair of tweezers pulling out hairs.
She had asked me if anything ever happened to her would I do this for her.  I frantically looked for her tweezers, found them in a makeup bag and straddled my Mother's body on the hospital bed and began pulling out hairs from her face.  This is how the nurse found me when she returned to the room.
She looked at me, said nothing and returned in a minute with a valium.  I climbed off my Mother's body and made phone calls to the family.  This all happened 26 years ago today.  I needed to revisit that time.  Thank You.

Saturday, August 25th, 2012..........3:51 p.m.

Feelings And Actions

Many times in my life there has been a real conflict surrounding my feelings.  Early in my life it seemed I wasn't allowed to have feeling, I certainly wasn't allowed to voice them; so my feelings were secrets that I carried inside me.  Like most secrets they began to fester and often left my sick.  It was a kind of soul sickness, one that was always left untreated.  Worse yet, I began to deny my feelings to others, and what was really bad to myself.  In time I no longer really knew what I actually was feeling.

It took almost 70 years for me to fully realize that it is O.K. to have my feelings, all of them, anger, guilt, hurt, fear and love.  It is O.K. to voice my feelings, in fact it is necessary that I do; necessary for my emotional, spiritual and physical health.  If I don't speak my fear, and anger out loud then I can't voice my love out loud either.

I don't have to act on my feelings, but it is essential that I acknowledge them.  I think that was the part where I got stuck; perhaps I was afraid that if I ever voiced my feelings I would act on them.  In reality it works the other way round, if I give a voice to my feelings they dissipate, they become less and they are manageable.

"It is O.K. to be angry but it is not O.K. to be cruel".  I already knew that, I just didn't know that I knew it.

Afternoon Thoughts

Thursday, August 2nd, 2012.......... 5:03p.m.

Candle

Ten days ago my niece Candle and her family arrived for a visit.  This was a real event for myself and my family.  Candle is my sister's child.  I had only met her twice before, once when she was a very young child and again at her Mother's funeral.  Obviously we did not know each other very well.
Candle was the second child of sister's marriage to an African American and my sister's first daughter. Daughter's are so important, well, so are sons, but a daughter to a woman is special.  This is someone who we feel we will always relate to and have a special relationship with.  Unfortunately it doesn't always work out that way.

After Candle's birth my sister and her husband had problems in their marriage and soon split up.  My sister Peggy, Candle's Mother, carried with her a lot of unsolved issues from her childhood, as did I, and at that time neither one of us knew were to look for help out of the frightening wilds of our childhood.  Candle's father was given custody of the two children of that marriage and Candle lost touch with her mother when my sister moved to Florida.

Candle arrived here with her beautiful family.  They got to know her cousins, both my daughter Tami and my eldest son Michael.  We were all so happy to see her.  It was the first time the cousins had met.  Her time with me was bittersweet.  It was necessary to discuss her Mother; the good, the bad and the ugly.  We spent a couple of hours each day alone with each other as we talked.  I hope that Candle left here knowing that we all have a good, a bad and an ugly. her Mother, Myself and even Candle.  I also hope that she took home knowledge that her Mother loved her and did the best she could with the knowledge and experience that she had at the time.

Thank you Candle, Aireil, Nathaniel, Noah, Alexia, Xia and the new life yet to come.  Please continue to be a part of our lives.

Tuesday, July 24th, 2012............1:17p.m.

Equine Therapy

I havn't posted in a couple of weeks, mainly because my computer was on holidays, or least crawled down to a sanil pace, possibly a work to rule thing.

I have started a new venture.  I am volunteering at a local horse therapy operation.  This organization is called PRANCE.  I am quite sure what this acronym stands for, but I am sure I will find out.  This organization recently recieved a Govt grant and in order to run this program it is nessesary that they have a person with a mental health background on staff.  I recieved a telephone call a couple of weeks ago and agreed to have an interview with the Executive Director.  Now I am volunteering 3 hours a week on Tuesday afternoons.

For anybody who doesn't know me I am 73 years old, overweight and have arthritis in both knees.  So if you imagine me working in a paddock with mostly young women and very large horses, you will have something to smile about.  I am also continuing my pet/house sitting jobs.  It is good to being using my therpist skills on someone other than dogs and cats.  I fear losing my skills and I always, as long as my health permits, want to do something that helps myself and others.

We have four horses on the property that my daughter and her family live on.  I have never had a real relationship with a horse.  I have always thought that were attractive and that they give the property a certain ambiance that I enjoy, but their care and feeding has never been my concern.  Not that I will responsible for their care at work either, but I will be working with them as partners in the therapy course I am involved in.  This is a form of therapy I am not familiar with but even after two weeks I can see the value these beautiful animals bring to this exercise.

Afternoon Thoughts

Wednesday, June 27th, 2012..........3;58p.m.

"All It Takes For Evil to Triumph Is For Good People To Do Nothing" ...Edmund Burke

It is none of my business, I don't want to get involved, etc etc.  How many times have we stood and watched someone being abused?  That doesn't always mean being punched or kicked, sometimes it means being screamed at or cursed at, or sometimes even being quietly threatened or demeaned.

Sometimes it is an adult displaying their authority to a child or a young adult.  Sometimes it is a man bullying a woman, occasionally it will be a woman abusing a man; I say occasionally because even if the woman is bigger the man is inevitably stronger.

Their seems to be be something in the nature of human beings that makes us want to impose our views and our will on others.  It is there as far back as recorded history goes.  Let's be mean to anyone who isn't like us; to anyone who looks different, sounds different, worships different or is different in any way.

I wasn't always innocent of observing, even inflicting pain on others.  I have said and done unkind and hurtful things.  I realize now I was most often guilty of hurting others when I was hurting and frightened myself.  Sometimes being unkind to others made me part of a group that I thought I wanted to belong to, you know "the in group".

I have observed that one person on their own is usually pretty harmless but put a group together and very quickly a "mob mentality" develops.  Most of the reading I have done tells me that one person didn't  usually lynch a person of a different color, there was usually a group.  We seem to feed off of each other.  Even with children bullying it is so seldom a one on one thing.  If you take the time to observe there will be a group of kids picking on one or two.

I live in a home where we all like each other and we have each others backs.  Where no one has to point someone Else's weakness's to show their own strengths.  I am so grateful for that.

Afternoon Thoughts

Thursday, June 14th, 2012.............3:39p.m.

Words From An Italian Grandmother

"It is only tomorrow that we understand the why of today"

Last Saturday evening while my family was in Hamilton I was watching TV, looking for something interesting and real.  I found a show that interviewing grandmother's from other cultures.  It always amazes me how much the same women are, no matter what part of the world they are from and how much we can all learn from each other. 

When I am alone at home or at work I will go through all the channels on the TV looking for something different and I usually find some documentaries that are informative and educational.  This one was especially so.  They interviewed women and their grandmother's.  Al the grandmother's were women who had integrated to Canada from counties all over the world.  These women had passed their knowledge, their culture and their language to their daughters and granddaughters.

I never knew my Mother's mother, she died when my Mother was 10.  I did know my Father's mother, but not well enough.  I realize now what a fascinating woman she was.  She had 5 husbands and at the end of her life she lived alone.  She had a wonderful sense of humor and she had a good sense of money.  I hope I inherited a lot of her genes.  She taught me much and could have taught me more.

Afternoon Thoughts

Wednesday, June 6th, 2012.............1:11p.m.

Words From An Italian Grandmother

A Quote By Nikita Ivanovich Panin

"In Youth Our Days Are Short And Our Years Are Long, With Age Our Days Are Long And Our Years Are Short".

The first time I read this I thought how very true this was for me. I can recall as a child thinking "ah, it is getting dark, the day is over already".  And when I had my Birthday I would think "darn, it will be a whole year before I have another birthday, that is such a long, long time.  The year I was 11 was at least 3 years long, at least that is how it felt to me.  I wanted to be 12 so bad, I wanted to grown up, I wanted things to change,

The first time I was aware how fast a year could go was when my first child had his first birthday.  The 7 lb infant I had delivered and held was now walking, running actually, he had a developed a definite personality of his own and he was already beginning to let go of my hand.

As a senior citizen I now sometimes have long days, but wow the years are getting shorter.  I try to keep myself very aware in the spring when the leaves are that brand new green, that pale green that disappears in a week.  The new green of leaves is probably my favorite color.  And I make myself very aware when the leaves are beginning to change color because I know in the blink of an eye the leaves will gone from the trees.

My daughter was reminding the other day about when my grandson when 3 years old.  She was taking him to a circus where there was a real live elephant.  She had been talking to him about it for days.  The day of the circus when he first seen the elephant he said "Oh my dod, I am so ecited".  This child is now in high school, has a girlfriend and is getting his driver's licence.  Time goes by.  I think I am wise enough now to get the most out of each day.  Time is to precious to spend it dwelling on hurt feelings and real or imagined sleights.  I would rather dwell on the kindness's of those I know and those who I meet on the street and may never see again.  I have become hyper vigilant now for the goodness in my life and the pleasures that are all around me.

Afternoon Thoughts.

Saturday, June 2nd, 2012...........6:12p..

A Quote From Havelock Ellis

"All The Art Of Living Lies In A Fine Mingling Of Letting Go And Hanging On".

What a balancing act living is.  Sometimes I let go when I should be hanging on and hang on when I should be letting go.  I don't always know when it is time to let go.  The 70er I get the letting go usually gets easier and the hanging on harder.

There are many things that I don't want to let go of, yet no longer have the mental or physical energy to hang on to.  In those cases letting go although it bring pain, it also beings relief.  I have held to so many things long past the time that I should have let go.  Big things like real estate, relationships, furniture, even clothing.  I wanted so badly to hang on to my youth, I probably still do, even now that I know the advantages of letting go.

I was visiting my old home in Fenelon Falls last weekend, it is now my son's and his families home.  After 2 years of this house becoming my son's. I was really able to let of it.  In doing so I was able to enjoy it so much more.  The responsibility of owning something is now heavy for me.  I am much lighter and freer when I let go.

Hanging on to the illusion of being in control was a really difficult one for me, until I realized that it was that, an illusion.  My life is controlled by the fates just as everyone else's is.  Sometimes life is kind and warm and there will be times when it will be cold and cruel; time is a great leveler.  The longer I am here the more I see that everyone of us goes through our times of hanging on and letting go.

Afternoon Thoughts

Thursday, May 24th, 2012...............1:27p.m.

Whats Bugging Me Today

Sometimes little things really make me crazy.  I was at Walmart today to get fresh fruit and vegetables.  I normally go there 2 or 3 times a week.  The reason I shop there is because pears are 79 cents a pound instead in $1.49 and apples are apples are considerably less than in my neighborhood grocery chain.

When I checked out today I was asked if I would like to donate a dollar to some children's charity, I was asked the same question the last few times I have shopped there...I find it really frustrating when I say NO, mostly it is frustrating because there is no point in in talking to the cashier, she is told what to do and say, her pay cheque depends on following orders.

I would like the opportunity to speak with someone in authority in Walmarts huge chain of command.  This is what I would tell them.  " I shop at Walmart because I have a limited income, not because I am so wealthy; if I had unlimited money I would probably be at some gourmet organic shop buying my fruits and vegetables. I realize that your approach at intimidating people by asking for donations while there are people all around me p5robably works on many but it doesn't work on me so PISS OFF".

I am a generous woman and I decide where and when I help people.  For many years I have helped people, both financially and through other means.  I have invested thousands of dollars in women.  A lot of those dollars going to Dentists and Denturists, because women living at the poverty level have such a difficult time affording any kind of oral health and when a woman is deprived of teeth it does something terrible to her self esteem.  I have never mentioned the money I have invested in women, that was something between the women involved, myself and the dentists and denturists.  I don't give to charities who's CEOs make more than most us ever will.

There that is off my chest.

Thursday, May 17th, 2012..........3:49p.m

Rabbi Rami Shapiro

Here is a quote from a man that I admire.

"To me religions are like languages' no language is true or false; all languages are of human origin, each language reflects and shapes the mindset of the civilization that speaks it; there are things you can say one language that you cannot say, or say as well in another, and the more languages you know the more nuanced your understanding of life.

Judaism is my mother tongue, yet in matters of the spirit I strive to be multi lingual.  In the end, however, the deepest language of the soul is silence."

Amen Rabbi.  You have a new fan.

Monday, may 14th, 2012..........11:21p.m.

"Is The Universe Friendly" Albert Einstein

I think this may be one of the most important questions, if not the most important question ever asked.  And the fact that Einstein didn't know either makes it even more so.

Sometimes I think it is like asking is water wet?  Or more importantly is it good or bad that water is usually, but not always wet?

There have been ties in my 70 something years that I have felt that the Universe was friendly.  When I heard my small children laughing and playing.  And recently when my two youngest children, now very much adults, singing and whistling.  Over a year ago my youngest son was visiting my daughter and helping with some household renovations.  I was sitting here on the computer, when I heard my daughter singing as she prepared dinner in the kitchen, as I sat and listened I became aware of my son whistling in the part of the upstairs that was under renovation.  My whole body was smiling and I was sure that the Universe was friendly.  However, I have witnessed my daughter in distress with anxiety and my son in great distress with addictions battleing addictions.  At those times I wasn't at all sure that the Universe was friendly.  I have pictures of my first born smiling happily with his wife and children and I have listened to his words when something unexpected and unpleasant happens in his life.

I have been present when a healthy new born child entered the world and I was there when a baby was born with only hours to live.  I know people who are ready, more than ready to die, and I have sat at the deathbed of those who were full of fear and in agonizing pain.

Like Einstein, I don't know.  It is still a question: "Is The Universe Friendly'?

But For The Grace Of God???

I am part of an organization where this slogan is used a lot.  It is considered considered a wonderful thing to say, to believe.  I am sure that it has brought relief and good feelings to many and that's a good thing I guess.  I am a firm believer in whatever gets you through the day.

For me personally I admit I do not know if there is a God or not.  Many times I have wished that I had a strong conviction one way or the other, but really I don't know.

Sunday while driving home from a convention of this self help program, I was listening to CBC as usual and I heard an interview with Michael Shermer.  Mr Shermer is involved with his own organization having to do with skepticism. He brought up his own thoughts on this often used phrase
"But for The Grace Of God".  Here is a scenario; If a hurricane swept though my community and the houses on either side of me were destroyed and mine was untouched by the storm, many may say the God was watching out for me and I guess that is good, except that when I or anyone else says that what we are saying is that God obviously wasn't watching out for the other people.  Apparently I mean more to God than they do, and that doesn't put Him/Her/It in a very good light.

Quite often I find myself embracing the dogma of this program and mouthing their words, mostly because I want to belong, I want to be a part of and I am a part of.  Yet my mind continue to ask the question and to doubt.  On many levels I think doubt is a good thing, it keeps my mind open and I keep learning and searching out new ideas.

Afternoon Thoughts

Tuesday May 8th, 2012.........1:20p.m.

Spending Your Days On The End Of Strings Somebody Else Is Pulling

Yesterdays quote was by Howard Thurman.  He was an influential author and the first minister of a fully integrated church in the American South.  He was a descendant of slaves in the U.S. 

About his his quote "Spending your days on the ends of strings somebody else is pulling"; this is something that I have done for a lot of my life, probably a lot of us have.  We all do it as children, we really don't have a lot of choice and during those young years we need someone to meet our needs and keep us safe.  As life goes on we do it with schools, teachers, peer groups and the entire social system.

After that a lot of us do it for our employers.  We justify and rationalize our actions and our boring, repetitive days while we make enough money to keep our families.  We become part of our communities through Church's and other organizations.  We adopt these policies and beliefs, even when we disagree with the dogma of these organizations we usually don't voice our own beliefs.  We don't "rock the boat".  Rocking the boat can have serious, scary consequences; we can be ostracized and shunned by the peer group we have embraced.

As someone who has rocked the boat quite often, but not nearly as often as I should have; I know the feeling of being shunned and avoided by others.  One of the advantages of being A 70 Something Woman is that it really doesn't matter that much anymore, not that it ever mattered that much to me, but I played nice most of the time and conformed when it felt like I had no choice.

I spent to much time: "Spending My Days On The End Of Strings Someone Else Was Pulling".

Thank you Karen for sending me this quote.

Afternoon Thoughts

Friday, May 4th, 2012....1:08 p.m.

- Howard Thurman (1900-1981)

"There is something in every one of you that waits and listens
for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide
you will ever have. And if you cannot hear it, you will all of your life
spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls."

- Howard Thurman (1900-1981) 

You Will Only Want Most Things Once

Again a line I heard on CBC while driving home from Mildmay and my stint with Lois.  Most of my blog titles are an out of context line from some interview I hear on that station.  The person being interviewed was talking about Edith Wharton, an authour that I am familiar with but will be doing more reading from her.  Apparently this line came from her father.  I tried to research the quote but couldn't find it's origin. However, the line got inside my head and hasn't left, so here it is in a blog.

There were so many things that I once longed for, that most of us wanted until we got them.  In my case this particular symptom decreased with age and time and experience.  I can still recall the fervent, fevered wanting that I experienced as a very young woman.  These longings were usually associated with another person, at that time I still believed my happiness lie in hands of others, that this man or this friendship would complete me.  I hadn't learned that I was already complete and until I learned this, which in my case took a very long time, could I ever have a real relationship with anyone.  I recall the feeling of letdown once I had "conquered" the object of affection, then discarding and going on a quest for the next person who would give my meaning, who could make me real.  Obviously at that time I believed that I had no meaning and that without that "other" person I wasn't real.  There are some advantages of being 70 something, a couple of them are knowing that my life has meaning and I am real whether I am in a relationship or not.  I also believed at that time that marriage and happy ever after was the ultimate goal, yet both times I married I "knew" while walking down the aisle that I should run, right now.  And as soon as I was married I felt trapped and began sabotaging the marriage.

I also recall lusting after a certain car or house.  In most cases after the first weeks or months of owning a vehicle I would think "well that is thirty or forty grand I could have done something else with, and I wish I had gotten a smaller/larger vehicle and this one really shows the dirt and I just lost $6000 when I drove it off the lot. With houses it was kind of the same; it could be that the house was located to close to town, therefore all the traffic , or it was to far out of town and inconvenient to get to town.  If my house was large I would go to someone who had a cottage and think this is so homey and cute. These were just some of my experiences.  I wasn't always unhappy with what I had, in fact I wasn't usually unhappy with my vehicle or my house.  It is just that none of things made me feel complete, whole or safe.  I had to become a 70 something woman to really appreciate the things I have and not to need something else to complete me.  I realize today that I am complete, I have everything I need and want and "IT'S ALL GOOD"

Afternoon thoughts

Wednesday, April 25th, 2012.....1:14p.m.

Leaving Lois

I arrived home yesterday about 7:00p.m.  It is nice to be home again, but I surprised myself that I enjoyed my stay in Mildmay so much.  I did enjoy the alone time, some times that worries me, perhaps I was meant to be a hermit.  Yet I was pleased with myself, I am glad that I don't need outside stimulus to much.  I don't think I am unique but perhaps a little bit different.  I find that when I am alone structure becomes more important, it gives my day more form.  Checking for E Mails and looking at Facebook account was something I did every morning while drinking my coffee,  Watching the View at 11:00 a.m. was another, then reading and playing on the computer until 3:00p.m. when the television is back on for afternoon shows.  Of course there was letting Lois out for her pees and other business and cleaning up after myself is in there somewhere.  TV off at 11:00p.m. and one last one the computer, then bed by midnight, where I do my nighttime routine, which is a blog in itself.

Being alone makes me conscious of myself and my idiosyncrasies, of which I seem to have quite a few.
One of those being that when I have been alone for about 48 hours I begin to not want to go out, even telephone calls start to annoy me, perhaps annoy isn't the right word, it is more like they interrupt my own strict structure that I seem to impose upon myself during those times.  Because I am aware of the dangers of this I make myself go out everyday, even if it just to the store and I make telephone calls.  I fear that I could easily become agoraphobic, perhaps I already am. hopefully not, hopefully I have finally learned to be comfortable with myself as company.  Geez I analyze everything to death.  Anyway it was good to spend 18 days with Lois and it is good to be home.  IT'S ALL GOOD.

Afternoon Thoughts

Tuesday, April 24th, 2012.........2:00p.m.

Life With Lois

For the past 5 days I have been enjoying life in Mildmay.  My work (looking after people's homes and pets) takes me to many different little towns and Hamlets in Bruce township and surrounding areas.  Since the 5th and through the the 24th of this month I am living in and taking care of a beautiful, old red brick home on the main street of Mildmay.  I am also caring for a loveable 3 year old Chocolate Lab names Lois.

Lois is like most Labs that I have known.  She is lovable, playful and a real delight to be with.  In the last two years since I started my new venture, house/petsitting I have worked in Paisley where I live, Port Elgin where I shop, Walkerton and Hanover, now I have added Mildmay to my list.

It seems to be important to me that I have something to do, something that I can make a little money at and enjoy doing at the same time..  I like animals.  Animals seldom have ulterior motives, unless it is for a dog biscuit, and they don't hold grudges.

A little bit about this home; it was built in 1925.  At one time, possibly in the beginning it was a funeral home, or at least the place where viewing took place.  The lady of the home, Sharon, asked me if this would bother me.  I answered honestly, "not at all, a dead person has never hurt me.  It was always living people who dealt me whatever pain I have suffered".

Possibly there is something strange about me, but I am good at being alone.  I am not saying that I want to be a hermit, but if I know that the job is 3 days or 3 weeks, I could stay, probably without ever going out for that period of time.  As long as I have a good supply of books I am good.  I don't seem to need the company of people, although I enjoy it when it happens..

This time spent alone is good for reflection.  I know a lot of people who would dread this much time alone and probably I was one of them at one time, but not anymore and not for a longtime.

I miss my daughter and her husband and my grandson.  I have to prepare my own coffee for morning, of all the things my child does for me, and she does so much, I seem to miss this the most.  I have the telephone at my disposal and of course the computer, including E Mails and Facebook so I still feel linked to the outside world even while feeling wrapped inside my cocoon of warmth and safety.  So here I will be for 2 more weeks enjoying every minute of it.

Afternoon thoughts

Tuesday, April 10th, 2012..................3:33p.m.

The Kahn Academy

I heard Herman Kahn interviewed last Sunday on 60 Minutes.  This is a quote taken out of context from that interview: "Innovation never comes from established Institutions but always from some unconventional or crazy person".
I have been digesting thos words from Sunday until now.  And I have to agree.  Most of the people who make real changes in our world are "different".  They don't go along with the status quo.  A few I can think of right away are Bill Gated, Steve Jobs, and Mark Zuckerburg.

I think that when we have been in the job, church or culture for to long we come to believe that the way things are can't or shouldn't be changed.  For us even if it is not working it is something we are familiar with and we reach a certain comfort level.  I have stayed in jobs, relationships and groups that were no longer working for me.  Mostly because it was easier to stay than to leave.  I try not to do that anymore,
Everytime I hear the phrase :If It's Not Broken Don't Fix It", I think of the book title I mentioned a month or more back called "If It's Not Broken Break It".  I think that the word break in this case is a synonym for change.  It will be either the quite young or the quite old who will break the establishments rules.  Particularly the young who havn't heard "That Can't Be Done or That Will Never Work" often enough to get their brain drenched with the message.  Thank the Universe for the unconventional or crazy people.

Wednesday Night, March 14th, 2012........9:00p.m.

"No One Ever Choked To Death While Swallowing Their Pride"

Once again I heard this while driving, on my favorite source CBC radio, another 10 word sentence that got into my brain and began to take root there.  Because words get in my head and won't leave until I talk/write about them I though I should do that right away.

For me Pride is such a two headed emotion.  The good side of pride gets me out of bed, into the shower, out to get my hair done and good things like that.  It also gets in my way, makes me trip over it, sometimes injuring myself quite badly.  With me what usually happens is fear says I can't and pride says I won't.

Asking for help, telling you what you are doing or saying is hurting/frightening me, are just a couple of things that pride inerferes with.  Saying I am sorry or wrong are other things that pride interferes with.  When I say I am sorry, it is admitting I made a mistake, and admitting I made made a mistake leaves me in a vulnerable position.  Sometimes I carry this pain for a long, long time.  But I don't carry it nearly as long as I used to.  Swallowing my pride, or better yet spitting out my truths, is sometimes a scary thing, yet it is like a really bad electrical storm; after it is over the air around me is so fresh and clean.

Afternoon Thoughts

Saturday, March 10th, 2012..........3:22p.m.

"I Am For Truth No Matter Who Tells It" Malcolm X

This is only part of a quote by Malcolm X.  I like this quote, I like it when I hear it, I like it in print.  The 70er I get the more I realize that life is seldom, if ever made up of straight lines.  There are so many bends and twists and circles.  I seldom make adamant, absolute statements anymore.  This was something I did a lot as a younger woman.  I was so sure then what was right and what was wrong.  I was sure about black and white, I didn't entertain any shades of gray.  Really life is mostly made up of shades of gray.  Black and white was so much easier, right and wrong was easier, and don't confuse me with extenuating circumstances or shades of grey. When two people are fighting or disagreeing it is seldom if ever that one is totally right and one is totally wrong.

Whoa, that wasn't what I wanted to write and I am not sure where it came from, but it is down and I think I will make the deal with myself that I made with the granddaughter of my soul..."We Don't Delete".  So it is here to stay.

I am for truth because I need to be.  I can't really understand many things until I know the truth.  I have a difficult time forgiving people if I don't know the truth.  And I am sure that is true for others as well as myself.
That is why I always try to be honest, without being hurtful.  Because it works for me.

Wednesday, February 22nd, 2012............11:16p.m.

Branches Of My Family

My children are spread out over southern and western Ontario.  On Saturday I am going to Hamilton to look after my ex daughter in law's dog for a week.  My eldest son, his wife and their 5 children, as well as the granddaughter of my soul, live in the Hamilton area.  Besides making a little money I will get a chance to see the Hamilton branch of my family.  This is something I am really looking forward to.  I see this branch fairly regularly but during that week I hope to spend some time with them individually.  Usually they come here together to my home now.  That is a family visit with my daughter and her family here too.  Sometimes I feel that a couple of hours one on one with my children and/or grandchildren is worth a day or two as a family visit.  When the entire family is present I find myself sort of editing myself or trying to include everyone in the conversation.  For me there is an intimacy missing in that kind of a visit.  Next week I hope to spend time with my son and his family on an individual basis and hopefully a family visit too.

I also have a daughter in Hamilton.  I don't speak of her much, as we havn't spoken for 12 years or more.  She is a born again christian, which is fine with me, however, she told me if I wanted to see her 4 children I would attend their church whenever I was in town.  I don't blackmail, not even for my children, not even for christians, especially not for christians.  So I don't know those 4 now adult children and that is a loss for me and for them.

Linda, my eldest daughter. my step daughter really, but I consider her my daughter, lives in London with her partner Ann.  I love both these women and don't see them often enough, but we see each other as often we can.  Linda has a son and daughter, so that is two more grandchildren.  Her son lives in Quebec and her daughter in Waterdown.  This summer I want to go to London and spend some time with Linda and Ann and the London Branch of the MacCharles clan.

Then their is the Fenelon Falls branch of the family.  My son Rusty and his partner Lieghann.  I love spending time there.  I have probably the best conversations with this son, perhaps because we both lived in Fenelon Falls for so many years.  I love to listen to him.  Rusty has retained  his childlike enthusiasm and for some reason we find each other interesting.  I find his words and idea so interesting.  I seem to connect with each one of children on a different level.  Rusty has my last remaining cat Willie Nelson.  Last week he E mailed me a picture of his dog, Stanley and Willie Nelson laying on his couch together.  I thought that was such a kind and thoughtful thing to do.  Lieghann is one of the kindest people I know.  She has shown kindness and love under the worst of conditions.  I won't go into the diarreah story again.

I also have a Kitchener/Waterloo branch of the family.  Rusty first wife, Patti and his three adult children live there.  Tami and Dennis's three adult sons live there too.  What beautiful, strong, and talented people these are.  I get kind of sad that I don't see these grandchildren as often as I should and hopefully will see more them soon.

Then I have the Paisley branch of my family.  My baby girl Tami and her husband Dennis and Jonathon, their youngest child.  We live together in a beautiful, old, large farm house, with 2 dogs and 4 horses.  We have people coming and going every day.  People who are real friends, people who we help and who help us.

After writing this I am even more aware of how very lucky I am.  All these wonderful people in my life.  So much love and so much caring.  I know people my age and older and even younger who are lonely and feeling uncared for.........and I say THANK YOU TO THE UNIVERSE for what I have.

Tuesday, February 21st, 2012.........11:38p.m.

Intelligance And Maturity

"Grades don't measure intelligence and age doesn't define maturity".  Not sure where this quote originated but I like it.  I have always disliked the grading system used in our schools; it holds back so many people and worse than that it is shaming.  What about a person who didn't achieve the standards (I would like to know who sets these standards and how they how they decide this should be the critera used) set by our educational system; so they drop out before finishing high school.  This person can fix a machine, build a house or write a book, yet they were so shamed and discarded by our educational system that they are considered not to smart by some system that I believe no one understands.  I wonder how well a CEO or member of Parliment would survive in the wilderness.  What  real coping skills do they have?

And age definately doesn't define maturity.  I am 70 something and the accumulation of years hasn't always made me wise or mature.  I know some really "unsmart" (I wanted to say stupid, but that didn't seem nice) old people.  What the 70 something accumulated years did give me was experience, enough experience to not make asolute statements anymore.  When I have to ask a 15 year old, who has been diagnosed ADHD to show me how to put a picture on my blog, it is a humbling experience and one that is good for me.  This same teenager has given me lessons in  forgiveness and honesty.

Afternoon Thoughts

Saturday, Feruary 18th, 2012.........1:42p.m.

Feeling Fragile

I am not feeling fragile tonight, so it safe for me to write about it.  Dictionaries are almost my favorite book; right up there with "The Language Of Letting Of Letting Go".  And according to my dictionary here are a couple examples of what fragile means:  easily broken, shattered, or damaged; delicate; brittle or frail.  Lacking in substance or force.

This could be such a long blog but because it is late it won't be.  When I was a young woman, even a girl, I thought fragile applied mostly to old people and perhaps babies.  Yet as a 70 something woman I don't feel as fragile as I did years ago.  In many ways I am tougher ( I think perhaps "tough" is the opposite of "fragile")
at least it is for me tonight.  I am looking at the words from the dictionary. "Easily broken"....... bones maybe are more easily broken but more important things like my feelings, my heart, and my spirit are not nearly so easily broken.  Shattered; I was shattered in my teens, my 20s and possibly early 30s, it takes a lot more to shatter me today. Damaged: whatever damage was done to me so many years ago, I don't damage as easily today. Delicate: not sure about that one, possiblily I was never delicate.  Brittle or frail:  Like I said earlier, possibly my bones.

"Lacking In Substance Or Force"  I don't  #$%^ing think so.  I have much less to lose today than I did 30 years, even 10 years ago.  I no doubt am more discriminating about what and where I put my substance or force into.  But I have substance and force and I have it in abundance.

Midnight Thoughts

Wednesday, February 15th, 11:58p.m.

"Unfinished Business Doesn't Go Away"

"It keeps repeating itself, until it gets our attention, until we feel it, deal with it, and heal".  This is a sentence from Melody Beattie's book The Language Of Letting Go.  This is the book I read every morning, the book that has given me the courage to look at my past, to feel it, deal with it and heal.

I forced so many things down when I was young, very young, from the time I can remember.  I swallowed fear, hurt, guilt and anger.  I mean I literally swallowed them.  This was before I found drugs, food, alcohol sex, work and other things to help me swallow my feelings. At age 4 or 5 many of these things arn't available to you, so you work with what you have; dissociation, make believe and denial.  Finding drugs and alcohol may have saved my life before they almost killed me,  With enough substance abuse I was able to really look at my pain and be numb enough not to totally feel it.  I was able to rationalize that I had survived it, it happened a long time ago and with another drink, another pill, it wouldn't seem that important.

However, Unfinished business doesn't go away, it comes back it dreams. in your daily relationships with others and more importantly in your relationship with yourself.  So, if you can, if you are ready, please feel it, deal with it and heal from it.

Afternoon Thoughts

Sunday, February 12th, 2012.......2:03p.m.

"If You Can't Say Anything Nice...... We Are Probably Related" My Sister/Friend Susan

I guess it is offbeat sense of humour but when I recieved this from my friend I laughed in a way that I seldom do.  Because I know so Susan so well and have for so many years, she knew this was something I would find very funny.

I have been fortunate since I stared life anew at age 68.  I was with my daughter and son in law and grandson, but I was in a place I had never been before.  I knew no one besides my little family here.  I also didn't know how to get anywhere.  I didn't know where the library was, the grocery store, the post office, hospital or anything.

When I was considerably younger I did move a number of times.  I recall when I moved someplace new that one of the first things I would do, probably the very first thing I would do, was get a phone book and look up the nearest Library and Liquor Store, luckily they were both under the Ls in the yellow pages.  I was much younger then and adjusting just seemed easier, making friends seemed to come more naturally and I was usually, not always, travelling with a husand; I was always always travelling with children.  This time it was a much older me and it was a frightened, hurt, sad me.  In spite of all that I have managed to make friends here, real friends, and I am so grateful for that.  I have also kept a few friends from my past.  When you live life like I did, like most of us do, you learn who your real friends are and how valuable they are.  So, to Susan my friend for over 15 years, Lorraine my friend for almost 20 years, Carol for over 10 years and Joy, wow Joy we really go back over 40 years, thank you for staying in my life and being the friends you are.  And to the new friends I have made in Bruce County "Thank you" I needed you so much.

Friday, February 10th, 2012............11:50p.m.

Hypocrisy

Hypocrisy is something I really, really dislike.  Yet it is something that I am guilty of.  According to one dictionary definition this is what a hyprocite is:  "A person who acts in contradiction with their stated beliefs and feelings".  I do that, not often, but there is one topic where I catch myself doing it all the time.

I believe in "Freedom of Choice" when it comes to child bearing.  I believe that the woman should make the choice to carry a child or not.  It is not my business and I would support her whatever that choice would be.
EXCEPT, when it is one of children or now grandchildren.  If it is my daughter or granddaughter then I would like to see that child born and I want to hold and know him/her,  I justify and rationalize this desire all the time.  Things like "we are a large family and if the pregnant woman/girl can't or isn't ready to care for a child at this time we will help you, or do it for you".

This doesn't change the fact that what I am doing/saying/feeling is hyprocritical.  I was watching "The View". one of my favorite shows on TV this morning.  The topic comes up quite often there, usually concerning politics; some Congressman or other person is always trying to impose his view, or his Party's view on everyone else.  As soon as that happens I can feel my body and brain go into fight mode.  Under my breath I mutter "who the hell gives you the right to tell women what they can and can't do".  Then when the anger subsides a little,
I reinstate "EXCEPT for my family, all our children should be born".

I am sure that my perception is coloured by becoming a Mother at age 16.  When I first found out that I was pregnant I would have wished away the pregnancy if I could have.  I so much wanted to finish school.  But had that happened then Michael wouldn't be here.  And anyone that knows Michael, or even knows of him, knows what a loss that would be.  The world would be without "First Born".  So, sorry I am pro choice just not for my family........and that probably does make me a hyprocrite.

Wednesday, February 8th, 2012........10:53p.m.

Telephones And Party Lines

If you are a 70 something woman or man for that matter you will probably remember the time of the party line.  This meant you were sharing your line with up to 6 oher households.  I must have been close to 10 years old when we got our first telephone in the house.  I was familiar with telephones, well kind of.  I knew Drs. and police and rich people had them and that was about all I knew about them.  I kind of thought that probably people who lived in cities had them, but I wasn't sure, as I didn't really know any people who lived in cities.  As a small child I always remember us living in old farm houses with long laneways, the kind of places with fields surrounding us.  Also the kind of place that you could cry or scream and nobody would ever hear you.  Lonely scary places.  Strange I live in exactly that kind of location today and for the past 4 years and it is wonderful.  It is filled with warmth, comfort and love, the same yet totally different.

Anyway, back to our first telephone;  it was black, there were no other colour telephones at that time, at least I never saw one.  Our phone number was Victory 6024.  I never understood the Victory part and don't remember what numbers we used before the 6024.  At that time if you were calling anyone in the area you just used the last 4 numbers.  Our ring was one long and two short.  If any one of the six other households got a phone call you knew about it because it rang at your house too. Sometimes it would ring two longs or one long and and one short.  I can't remember all of the combinations of rings for the six households.

I do remember sometimes picking up the phone and hearing other people talk.  Sometimes I recognized the voices but most times I didn't.  As a child I took words very literally, I think all young children do, so the term "party line" was confusing to me.  I knew about Birthday parties, Card parties etc I even remember being invited and going to Birthday Party, but what did a Party line have to do with  a Party?  Was all six households supposed to get the line and have a party over the telephone?  What a strange child I must have been.  I never asked these questions, I knew better, I just carried these questions inside my young head.

Afternoon Thoughts

Wednesday, February 1st, 2012.............4:30p.m.

"Do Not Limit The Future By The Past".. Melody Beattie

This is a quote from my favorite book "The Language Of Letting Go".  I talk of this book often, I guess because I read it everyday and it has been so helpfull to me.

It is difficult for most of us to "Not Limit The Future By The Past".  To me it seems kind of counter intuitive to not base furure events on past ones.  As usual I take this theory to the extreme; example "I have never had a working relationship with the opposite sex.  What makes me think this will be any different?"

If you were to know my whole story, you would know my Father abandoned the family when I was 3 years old.  I had an elder step brother who was abusive in everyway, including sexually and there were other abusive males in my life before age 7, as well as a Mother was didn't stop this abuse, in fact inflicted her own.  So, who in hell would expect me to excel in intimate relationships?

This same thing can be and often is carried over to other area of our lives.  Like I tried making a pie 37 years ago and it was terrible and everyone told me so, therefore why would I put myself through that again?  What I don't take into consideration is that I have probably learned a lot more aout baking than I knew 37 years ago.  Because I was told repeatedly as a child that I was stupid, I spent more years in schools than the average person just to prove, mostly to me that I wasn't stupid anymore.  The fact is that I was never stupid.  I was frightened, hypervigilant and legally blind for the first 10 years of my life.  I wasn't stupid.  I was tramatized and suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I was not stupid.  It took professional help for me to realize this and even with that help the voices from my childhood can still make me question myself and others.  I can still limit my present and my future by my past.

Afternoon Thoughts

Thursday, January 26th, 2012............3:05p.m.

Radio Shows I Remember

I was born in 1938.  It was 1952 before I saw my first Television.  I was 12 years old and babysitting for a couple who had a little girl.  They purchased the first television that I was aware of.  I would have babysat for free when they got a TV. I already had a love affair with radio that continues to this day.

Listening to radio shows seemed a lot like being read to, not that I can ever remember being read to, but I know I would have loved it.  I remember my Mother ironing in the afternoon and listening to radio soap operas.  I even remember a couple of titles.  Stellas Dallas and Pepper Young's Family are two that come mind immediately.  I seem to remember something about Young Widow Brown, although I am not sure if that was a title or a character in one of the other shows.  I have no idea what the plot lines were now, but at the time I listened every chance I got.

I remember listening to hockey games on Saturday night.  At that time I found them really boring and have to admit I still can't get excited about sports, although I do remember the the sound of Foster Hewitt's voice.  Many years later I would meet his granddaughter and get to know a lot more about this man and the foundation that he left.  There is a web site called "He Shoots, He Scores" dedicated to this man for anyone who is interested.

I rememer listening to a creaking door, I think that was "The Shadow Knows".  I remember "Our Miss Brooks" and I especially remember the Happy Gang.  Our teacher at that time would let us listen to it during school, as I look back now, I think she did that for herself as much as for us.  I even remember a song from the Happy Gang it is called "I'm Looking Over A Four Leaf Clover".  I wasn't a really happy child but these are happy memories.

Afternoon thoughts

Wednesday, January 25th, 2012............2:58p.m.

Snowy, Snowy Bruce Peninsula

Yesterday, January 18th was the first day we were snowed in.  Today we are really snowed in.  During the daylight hours it was difficult to see beyond the field in front of our house to the road.  There is something cozy about about this situation in this house.  I can remember not so many years ago when being snowed in anywhere would have been a very uncomfortable feeling.  I remember pacing floors and trying to find a way, any way to get out.  Perhaps it is because the house is large and the people in it are so loving and easy to be with.  Also I no longer have that feeling that I have to be some where for work.  I don't take any jobs during the bad weather months, unless they are right in the village where I live.

In some ways I was looking forward to winter.  When the weather is like this it is easier for me to give myself permission to do what I enjoy.  I can spend hours reading, watching TV and playing/working on my computer without the usual guilt I feel about not being busy.  Hopefully I am erasing the old tapes in my heads, the tapes placed there by parents and employers and even myself; the ones that say "what are you doing, what have you done and when are you going to get this done".  I have answers for these questions now; nothing, nothing and when I bloody well feel like it.  Ahhh, just a few of the many benefits of age.

Thursday, January 19th, 2012............9:01p.m.

From Daily Om Via The Granddaughter Of My Soul

Women's SupportBecoming Our Own Role Models

There was a time where women stood together in a bond of sisterhood, women supporting women.

As women embrace the fullness of who they are as individuals, they may find themselves supporting other women, helping others to reach the level of inner comfort and outer freedom that they themselves have found. Among those who are less sure of themselves and their place in the world, it may be more common to criticize other women than to seek their help. But there are things that a woman can only learn from another woman, as there are things about being a man that can only be learned from other men. We all recognize that we have much to learn from each other regardless of gender, but sometimes we could use a supportive role model that gives us a more precise example of what and who we can become.

There was a time where women stood together in a bond of sisterhood, women supporting women. It is only natural that the pendulum swings out of balance for a while so that we may have the experience of what we do not want. It is up to women to bring the pendulum back into balance and bring back the sacred sisterhood we yearn for at our core.

If we envision a world where women support each other and help each other find their place in an ever-changing world, then we can become the change we want to see. Jealousy, envy, criticism, and judgment are refuges for the insecure. As we help others to become self-assured, we create a world in which all people help each other, regardless of gender. Only women can make the change in how women are seen and understood, not just by other women but by the world at large. The way we speak about each other to other women and to the men in our lives informs everyone to treat us with the respect that all women, and all people, deserve.

Wednesday, January18th, 2012..........9:13p.m.

This Picture Pretty Much Says It All

This dog looks like Bummer.  Thank you Cindy P for posting it on Facebook.

Monday, January 16th, 2012..........10:02p.m.

Willie Nelson

When Willie arrived at my doorstep I definately wasn't looking and didn't particularly want another animal, and Willie wasn't a baby kitten.  He was a starving, straggly, grey tabby, about a year old and already a little feral.  I guess it was the starving part that I couldn't ignore.  I knew that feeding him made him made mine forever and I broke down and fed him.

I did decide that if I was keeping him, this time I was naming him.  I am a Willie Nelson fan and had a new CD of his.  I was playing this CD the first time Willie came into the house and I thought male or female your name is Willie Nelson.  Bummer was already a quite mature dog by then and Tigger and Large were no longer kittens.  All of them welcomed Willie or at least tolerated him.  It was Willie who was a little unfriendly for a while.  I had the usual big bowl of cat food on the kitchen floor that first day, all the cats headed for the bowl at the same time, that was when Willie spazzed out.  He hissed and growled at Tigger and Large, I think Willie believed that all the food there was on earth.  The other two cats just looked at each other and backed away, they believed there was an endless supply of catfood available.  This behaviour went on for sometime.  I used to wonder why the other two, who were bigger and stronger didn't just turn on him and beat the shit out of him, but they never did, they just looked at him and let him eat first.  Willie had become the dominant cat.

I have no idea where Willie came from and what his background had been but I would bet it wasn't good.  He did like Bummer, in fact wanted to nurse off of  Bummer and often I would hear Bummer yelp when Willie was trying to nurse and he bit Bummer. He slowly found his place in the family.

After I had Willie for a week I took him to the vet for shots and to make an appointment for neutering.  I had noticed that Willie had a couple of strange teeth. I don't know if he was naturally snaggle toothed or if he had been kicked in the teeth as a kitten, but he had one tooth in the top that stuck straight out and one in the bottom that went sideways.  The vet told me that for about $300 to $500 he would attempt to straighten his teeth.  I thought his snaggled tooth look gave him personality and they are still that way.

In 2007, I think it was February, it was cold anyway, Willie jumped up on bed early in the morning.  I was having coffee in bed before going to work, Willie sat on my chest and looked directly into my eyes and told me he was dying.  I don't care if anyone believes this or not, this is what happened.  He didn't meow, he didn't make a sound but he told me.  I called Rusty, grabbed a blanket and waited for Rusty to come to my house.  He drove my car and I held Willie Nelson all the way to the vets.  by this time the vet and everyone in his office were on a first name basis, I am sure I paid for a couple of all inclusive vactions for a couple who worked there.  Anyway as I walked in with Willie wrapped in a blanket, the receptionist got up and I handed her Willie.  I told her this cat is dying, she took him immediately into the back.  I waited about 10 minutes, the Vet came out and said that Willie had Kidney stones and needed an operation immediately.  He began to tell me about the cost, I already had my credit card in my hand.  I realized in that moment how much a part of my family Willie Nelson was.  The next day I picked him up from the vet.  I was back in the car when I started to laugh, with relief I think, the receptionist had brought him from the back and said "Willie Nelson MacCharles".

When I came to my daughter's James was looking after Large and Willie, as I mentioned in my last blog.  When my son took possession of my house, James moved out and Willie was left.  Rusty, my son with the beautiful soul, agreed to take Willie, actually they are a perfect match; neither are your average man/cat.  As far as I know Willie is still there.  When he was first taken there he kept returning home, although now the house was empty except for when my first born or his family are there.  I feel like I abandoned Willie sometimes, yet of all the animals I have owned Willie is my survivor.

There I have talked/written about a very important element of my created family.  These animals comforted me, made me laugh and made me cry.  They made that chapter of my life more pleasant and certainly more interesting.

Sunday, January 15th, 2012.......2:29p.m.

Something I Liked

This was on Facebook.  It was put there by my nephew Lorenzo.  I hope you enjoy.

Friday, January 13th, 2012.................9:55p.m.

Large

Large wasn't always her name.  In fact she was smallest of all the cats I had ever had, or perhaps the cats that had me would be more appropriate.  This is the story of large:  She belonged to a client I had.  The woman's is Bev, at least it is for this blog.  Bev was "schizoid affected" ( that is a term that Psychiatrists use when they can't come up with a real diagnosis) she also occasionally had seizures of unkown origin (another one of my favorite non diagnosis) before, during and after one of these seizures this woman was probably the most psychic person I had ever met, sorry got off topic.  Anyway Bev decided to get a kitten.  She lived alone and felt that a kitten would be good company.  I agreed and within a week Bev had gone to the pet shop and purchased this kitten.  The next week her psychiatrist told her "No, a pet was not a good idea and she should return it".  When she told me what she was doing, (returning the kitten) I told her I would take the kitten home for the weekend and she would miss it so much that I would bring it back to her on Monday. The cat was mine until she died.

Large was a tortoise shell, multi colured kitten with a white belly.  I learned something the next week when I took her to the vet.  Once again I didn't know I didn't know the sex of the kitten.  When I took her to vet for shots etc, I asked the vet what sex the cat was, without touching her he said female.  Apparently any cat with 3 or more colours are always female, (more semi uselss information).

Having Bummer and Tigger I thought my family was already complete, however after a weekend with this kitten I was in love and decided to keep her.  Paul also named this tiny kitten.  He called her Shautzie. Paul's parents were from the Ukraine and probably that meant something in that language.

Having Shotz (that is what I called her) seemed to bring new life to Bummer and Tigger.  Tigger was now 2 years old and over the kittenish stage, or least he was until Shotz arrived.  With the kittens arrival Bummer seemed to get young again and Tigger returned to the playful kitten.

When this cat was about 5 years old she started getting bigger and bigger, I thought she ate to much and got diet cat food for her.  That plan didn't last long as Tigger ate hers and she ate Tiggers and very soon I was back to just pouring a large bowl of cat food twice a day and they ate as they wanted. That year I took the animals to the vet for their shots and the vet said "she is to F-A-T".  I was really angry and told him we never used the F word in my house.  Then he said "well she is large".  And from that day on her name was Large.

When my job was terminated and I had my meltdown I rented my house to James, who had a cat of his own.  The conditions of the rent was that he look after Large and Willie Nelson for me.  I was here with my daughter for over a year before I was well enough to return to my house.  I went with the Granddaughter of My Soul, I needed her strength and company just to return to my home.  When we got there I saw this skinny Large.  I was worried that James wasn't feeding her, after being home for a couple of days, I realized he was feeding her and she was eating like a pig.  I was so worried about leaving her that Luisa said she would take her to her home in Oakville and make sure she was looked after.  After a week Luisa took her to her Vet, this guy did blood tests etc and found out that Large had a thyroid condition.  He gave her pills and Large stayed with Luisa.  I went to visit Luisa and that night Large slept in my bed.  I somehow knew that that was the last time I would see Large.  She was happy, she purred and lay beside me for the night, but I knew.  Large died about 10 days later.  She died wirh the Grandaughter of My Soul and my Grandson.  She died loved and cherished.  There is good place in heavon for Luisa and Chad for the love they gave Large.

Friday, January 13th, 2012..........4:05p.m.

Tigger

Tigger came into my life and home in 1996.  I guess you could call him a rescue cat.  I rescued him from a 6 or 7 month old Jonathon.  We  had gone to visit my daughter Tami in Hanilton and when we arrived Jon was sitting on the floor pulling the hair out of this white with orange spots cat.  The really nutty thing was the cat was letting him.  At that time the cat looked to be 4 or 5 months old.  I took the kitten away from Jon and held him.  I felt he needed protection.  One of the first things I noticed about Tigger was the orange spots on him were very close to same colour as Bummer.  I didn't know if Tigger was a male or female and at that time it didn't matter much.

When Tami asked me if I would like to take the kitten home it was a spontanious yes from me.  Paul was with me and he was a real sucker for animals.  I don't know if Tigger had a name but if he did it was about to be changed.  I let Paul name Tigger, names are something I don't take lightly and it might have taken me a few days to find an appropriate name, you know, a name that really fit the cat.  However, Paul said Tigger almost immediately and I let it be at that.  Tigger was in a cat carrier for the ride home, but after about 20 minutes I took him out and held him for the rest of the 2 hour trip.  Tigger was quite passive on the trip home and seemed to enjoy the car ride, unfortunately this didn't last, perhaps the car trips to the vet changed his mind.

When we got home I carried Tigger in the house.  Bummer was home, at this time I think Bummer would have been about 4 years old.  Tigger was frightened and found his way under my bed.  Bummer was very excited about having a cat, he laid down on the floor beside my bed and used his paw to try to scoop Tigger out.  Within the hour Tigger was out and eating and drinking milk.  It only took an other hour before the two animals were playing.  They became best friends.  It was almost love at first sight for these two animals.  I wish I had videos of these two playing.  Eventually Bummer would fall asleep and then Tigger would get up on the back of a chair and pounce on him.  I guess Bummer had a strong heart.

Tigger turned out to be the most affectionate cat I have ever owned or even known.  Even as a grown cat he would get so excited when he was being held that he couldn't contain himself, he would give you little love nips with his teeth, he never bit anyone but he was so happy being held and loved that couldn't contain his enthusiasm,  He purred so loud that I think my neighbors could hear him and gave little love bites to let you know how happy he was.

Tigger only lived 10 years.  He died suddenly of a heart attack in the fall of 2006.  I came home from work and couldn't find him.  The next day I was concerned enough that Leighann and my friend James went looking for him.  He was under the Bar B Q in the garage and he was dead.  I asked the vet the next time I took the animals to the vet for their shots what could have happened.  The vet asked me if the cats eyes were open, his were.  The vet said if the eyes were open then he no doubt had a heart attack.  Leighann and James dug a hole in the back yard and buried Tigger,  Then Leighann made a little cross as a maker for his grave, with his name and the date it. (I love Leighann for this) Tigger lies buried in the back yard at 41 Sturgeon Glen Road in Fenelon Falls.
I loved Tigger and he loved me unconditionally.

Bummer

Bummer was a mixed breed, mostly Irish Setter and I would guess some Collie.  Bummer was also an American, which I never held against him seeing as I was born with duel citizenship.He had beautiful, long red blonde hair which he shed all of time.  I am sure that somewhere in the house on Sturgeon Glen you could find some bummer feathers if you really looked.

Bummer came into my life when a man I had known 40 years previously came back into my life.  His name was Paul.  Paul had cancer and had a two year life expectancy, I accepted an engagement ring from Paul because I knew he was dying, (I don't do marriage).  However Paul outlived his life expectancy by over 3 years and died in 2002.  Probably the greatest gift Paul gave me was Bummer.  This was not the smartest dog I had ever known or owned but he was the sweetest.  Three cats were to eventually join the family and Bummer loved them all.

This dog had been raised in a fenced in yard in Elmhurst, Illinois.  He didn't have a clue about traffic. My house at R.R. 3 Fenelon Falls must have seemed like heavon to him.  There were no fences and when he got to the road he would walk right down the middle.  He never did learn about traffic, how he kept from being run over I have no idea.  Bummer lost  his virginity with a German Shepherd 4 houses up the road.  After that I convinced Paul that Bummer should be neutered, this was far more traumatic to Paul than it was for Bummer.  I told Paul that Bummer was in the gene pool now, the Shepherd up the road had 6 puppies, 5 of them were reddish blonde, so Bummer go fixed and didn't run away quite so often.

Paul died in the fall of 2002 and Bummer went into his own kind of depression.  The cats seemed to be the only things that made Bummer happy.  Within a year it was clear that Bummer had some kind of dementia.
Befiore I went to Arizona that winter I signed a paper for the vet in case Bummer needed care while I was gone, that care included euthanasia.  My son Russ and his partner Leighann looked after Bummer for me while I was away.  Bummer had stopped eating almost completely and wanted to lay on the steps outside of the house in the cold and the snow all of the time.  He was waiting for Paul to come back, I knew that.  While I was gone my son with the beautiful soul took Bummer to the Vet and had him put to sleep.  I was so glad it was Rusty who did this because Bummer loved him.  I am glad it was Rusty who held him when he died and shed the tear after.  I loved Bummer and I still think of him with love and affection.

Afternoon Thoughts

Wednesday, January 11th, 2012............1:03p.m.

Dogs And Cats And Others I have Loved

I can't remember my life without a pet and I can't imagine living without one.  Right now besides my life with my daughter and her family there are two dogs in the home.  There is Six (I call her Lady) and a cross Boxer and Lab named Poppy.  They are very much a part of the family.  But this isn't about Poppy and Six, this is about the animals that were in my life before I started life anew with my daughter, son in law and grandson over 3 years ago in 2008.

There were three cats and one dog in my life from 1996 to 2008.  The dog was called Bummer and the cats were/are Tigger, Large and Willie Nelson.  These animals shared my life through the good times and the bad.
The dog, Bummer, licked tears from eyes during some of the most emotionally painful times in my life; I can't think of a more intimate relationship than that.

Three of these animals are gone now, they died but they certainly are not forgotten.  My next four blogs will be about theses animals who came into my life and enriched it.  I don't recall ever going to look for a pet, the animals seemed to find me, making it more of a serendipitous event.  Tomorrow you will get to know Bummer.

Afternoon Thoughts

Tuesday, January 10, 2012........6:25p.m.

Happy Birthday First Born and Thank You For Sharing 57 Years Of My Life

An Interesting And Informative Blog

Depression: It’s Spiritually Incorrect

posted by Beyond Blue | 6:30am Wednesday January 4, 2012

A favorite from my archives …
I’ve been politically incorrect for as long as I can remember. I really should wear a sign around my neck that says “I apologize if I say something offensive,” because it feels like I am eating the soles of my shoes a few times a day.
But when it comes to my mood disorder, I think that “spiritually incorrect” is the better term.
There are lots of “spiritual” approaches to treating depression, each of which has a devoted following. There are “The Secret“-loving folks (and half of Oprah’s viewers) telling me that all I have to do to feel good is think positive thoughts–to throw the intention of personal sanity and well-being into the universe and fetch it when it returns to me. Then there are the Tom Cruise disciples warning me about those toxic pharmaceuticals I’m putting into my body (they say fish oil and vitamins are enough). Then there are the New-Agers claiming that mental health is only one yoga class, acupuncture session, or hour of Tibetan meditation away. (FYI: I believe in all these things–positive thinking, fish oil, vitamins, yoga, acupuncture, and meditation–but they alone could not treat my clinical, suicidal depression.)
And then, even more dangerous (in my opinion), I have intelligent, theologically-trained pastors, priests, and ministers of every denomination advising me that God alone is what I need–that if I read the Word, and lay my head on Jesus, then I can stop seeing both my psychiatrist and therapist.
Because prayer alone will be enough heal me.
In the face of such ignorance I say this, a prayer a priest friend recently taught me: “Jesus, save me from your followers.” (Or, my secular version: “I’m sorry. My fault. I forgot you were an idiot.”)
If I sound angry, it’s for a good reason. These attitudes not only perpetuate the stigma of mental illness–they worsen the depression of millions of people around the globe because, in addition to their other symptoms, the depressives now feel responsible and guilty for having brought on the pain themselves. And in trying to overcome it by themselves (with the help of their prayer beads), they stay stuck in the Black Hole, or resort to suicide.
I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that religious leaders who are uninformed about mental health are plentiful.
Back when I was a sophomore in college, a priest preached in his homily that “the world needs God, not Valium, and that the place to go with problems is the confessional, not a psychologist’s office.” I stood up and walked out. Every now and then I’ll hear a variation of it, and I’m tempted again to walk out again (but with kids, that’s not so easy).
In the psych ward–where I thought I was free of judgmental, evangelical lunatics–I was accosted by an ignorant pastor. After the chapel service, where we read psalms and sang “Amazing Grace,” he told me to stay put (because I couldn’t stop crying?).
Pointing his holy finger at me he said, “Honey, all you need is the Word. I was right where you are. I was down and out too, and then I picked up the Bible and God cured me. Praise the Lord! All you have to do is believe.” I was so doped up on sedatives at the time that I don’t remember what I said to him, but I don’t think it was nice.


The other day I found another warm fuzzy when (what was I thinking?) I Googled my name. It was a response to an article about depression I wrote for Catholic News Service. I have no idea who this guy is, and I’m not anxious to meet him, but this is what he said on his blog:

It wasn’t easy dealing with crazy people a hundred years ago, and it still isn’t. Medication helps a lot of people and it is kind of an “Oh, crap what do I do now” kind of solution. But here’s the kicker: melancholy is a gift that this culture desperately needs. Those of melancholic temperament tend to be a little bit deeper than the average person. It is a gift and a cross that the depressive has to bear. So what do you do on the days that you just can’t do anything at all? When you are so damn sick that you can’t get out of bed? You ask for the strength to go on. Look at Jesus, who is on the next cross over, and cry to Him. Tell Him this really sucks and you don’t want to do it. Maybe He will tell you to stay in bed. He’s really cool like that and He won’t push you too hard. But maybe His love will give you the strength to go on. And that’s what makes a hero.

I hope his heroes stay alive longer than the ones I know. Because plenty of folk–like Holocaust survivor Primo Levi–have perished on their knees.
Somehow Christians and God-fearers of all religions are programmed to believe they are “above” mental illness and depression. Faith conquers all.
Even though these devout individuals don’t feel morally weak when coming down with a stomach bug, or something more serious like a viral pneumonia or arthritis, they absolutely do feel morally bereft if anything (genes, stress, illness, trauma) disrupts the structure and function of brain cells, destroying nerve cell connections–resulting in neural roadblock to the processing of information (which happens with depression).
Thank God for the few examples, like Archbishop Raymond Roussin of Vancouver, British Columbia, who have gone public with their struggles.
I remember the afternoon my guardian angel Ann forwarded me the news clip stating that Roussin was taking six months off in order to treat his depression. I was buried in the Black Hole myself, and, empowered by his courage, asked for a six-month leave myself from my writing responsibilities–especially from the regular column I write for Catholic News Service.
I felt as though I had another believer in this with me, and we were going to rest and get well together, even maybe using this horrible pain to teach and instruct others who may experience it later in their lives.
The spiritual bond I felt with Roussin has deepened as I’ve seen him emerge publicly as an unbelievable honest, vulnerable, caring, and brave religious leader. Because of him (and others like him), I am proud to be Catholic.
Roussin’s recovery from depression reminds me of the wisdom of that joke about the guy who dies in a flood despite his prayers for God’s rescue.
As the floodwaters rise, a man named Sam calls for God’s help.
First a neighbor offers him a ladder.
“Nope, my God is coming,” Sam replies.
Then the police arrive with a rescue boat. “Hop on board!” they instruct him.
“Thanks but no thanks,” Sam says, “God will save me.”
And finally the national guard provide a helicopter, and he tells them to go away, too.
Sam dies, goes to heaven, and asks God, “Why didn’t you rescue me?”
“I sent a ladder, a lifeboat, and a helicopter…what more could I do?” says God.
Today it seems to me that anyone who suffers from depression (and admits it) is a tad spiritually incorrect. And especially if she accepts the help of the ladder, lifeboat, and helicopter (medication, psychotherapy, cognitive-behavioral therapy, and so on). But hopefully, with enough people like Roussin educating religious leaders, that will soon change.
Or maybe I’ll just have to hang on to the sign around my neck.

Thank You Therese J.Boschard And Karen For sending It To Me

Read more: http://blog.beliefnet.com/beyondblue/2012/01/depression-its-spiritually-incorrect-2.html#ixzz1icVwfm5y