I am NOT a stalker!!

I want to start out by saying that I am NOT a stalker.  At least I try very hard not to be.  I am a writer. Writer's are curious creatures who sometimes forget that other people may be more private.  My life is an open book.  I'm sure that I share way more than most people are comfortable with but that is who I am and I've learned to accept it.  Half of the time I am not even sure what is going to come out of my mouth until it is already on its way out. I hate when that happens. I have to accept that I will never be mysterious or aloof.  I have tried and it doesn't work. I will always be that happy puppy who wants to jump in, be everyone's friend and learn all that I can about anyone who crosses my path. Luckily with age I have learned to tamper my enthusiasm on occasion so there are times when I seem more quiet and in control than I really am.

Being overly curious makes me genuinely interested in people and what makes them tick.  Sharing stories and life lessons is as natural to me as breathing. I feel we were all put here to learn from one another.  What better way to learn than by example or through stories? I believe that collecting stories, observing behaviors and finding what makes each person an individual is how writers develop characters.  The characters from our imagination got there somehow. We take what we know and spin it into something completely new to make it our own. My characters each have little bits and pieces of the people who have come and gone in my life over the years.

The curiosity really gets in my way when I meet someone who intrigues me.  I think my questions and sudden interest might really put people on guard.  This is when I feel like a complete stalker.  I swear I am just a married soccer mom who writes when I actually find a few minutes to myself.  With the book I am currently writing I had to awkwardly approach someone that I went to school with that I wanted to loosely base my character on.  The mystery needed an off duty police officer who was out of his own jurisdiction.  Of course when I heard that a former classmate was a homicide detective in California this seemed like the perfect scenario for my character.   I have asked all sorts of things.  Luckily he has been patient and has kindly answered the questions no matter how strange some of them might seem.  Basing a character on an actual person is hard to do because you have to learn to separate the two.  When you are in the middle of writing you sometimes get confused as you try to piece together things that will make the character fit the story that you are trying to tell. My character is not the real homicide detective, he is a figment of my imagination and can be anything I want him to be.  

Unfortunately at times I get bored with my current project and start thinking ahead to one of the others that I have outlined for future development.  Last week another former classmate piqued my interest when I happened to really look at his Facebook page.  Yes Facebook, the evil entity that shares all of our private information with complete strangers.  Of course I love Facebook and I'm not really a stranger, at least I don't see myself as one.  He may have a different opinion.   I went to grade school with this guy. We lived on the same street for two summers. I have fond memories of riding bikes and climbing trees with him.  He also gave me my first kiss on the playground in the second grade.  He may have forgotten but I have a warehouse of old memories locked away in my brain.  I can tell you silly trivia about people I grew up with but I can't remember phone numbers of people I hang out with now.  Sorry--back to the first kiss. He chased me, caught me, held me up against a tree and planted one on me.  I may have kneed him in the nuts. That is what my memory tells me happened, but it could be that I didn't start kneeing boys in the nuts until the third or fourth grade. I am not proud of that part of  my grade school history.  Anyway, to me he has always been a character in my past so of course I am going to be interested in what happened to him. To him I may be that annoying girl who lived on his street and followed him around like a puppy for two summers.  It is all in the perspective and usually we all have different perspectives on the same events.

I grew up to be a soccer mom who dreams of writing, has several partially finished projects on my computer and who writes a blog to keep myself relatively sane.  Of course I'm intrigued by a small town Washington boy who ended up in Arizona in a band and then went to Nashville?  I mean there is a story there so of course I want to know it.  Today my curiosity couldn't be contained any longer so I sent him a message on Facebook asking a thousand questions.  Okay, maybe there weren't that many, but there were a lot.  I am pretty sure he thinks I am a stalker, a band groupie or a bored housewife.  I'm just a very curious writer who wishes everyone would divulge their life stories.  Maybe my interest in history and life stories should lead me to writing biographies instead of fiction.  That is something to consider. I really need to finish something and get it published so that I can be legit and not have to defend myself when I get curious and start asking questions.  Really,  I am NOT a stalker!!

Blah Blog......

It seems that as we get older feeling good becomes a choice that we make.  I know the things that I need to do to feel better and to have more energy.  I need to eat a healthy diet, drink plenty of water and exercise.  These things seem simple enough.  The rewards of doing them are great.  Why can't I wrap my mind around actually implementing them into my lifestyle?  It seems I have to resort to self brain washing in order to even do one of these things on a daily basis.  I want to feel good.  I have spent the past three weeks feeling pretty.....crappy--that seems to be the best word at the moment.  I have had headaches, stomach aches, back pain, chest pain and I am always tired.  The doctor thinks that my gallbladder might be the culprit.  They gave me medication for acid reflux and ordered an ultrasound.  Since taking the medication I have felt increasingly worse.  Today the chest pains were so bad that they wanted me to go to the ER.  I didn't think this was necessary, but they said it was better to be safe than sorry.  I spent 6.5 hours of my life in the ER today.  I had a "to do" list a mile long.  I had a lot to accomplish today.  I didn't accomplish much of anything though. I was poked, prodded, x-rayed, poked again and then told that I was very healthy.  Healthy??  I am overweight and having chest pains.  They said they couldn't explain the chest pains but that I wasn't in jeopardy of dying today so I could go home.  Thanks--couldn't I have spent my day running errands with my healthy chest pains?  I believe that I need a complete and total life make over.  I have needed this for awhile but every time I try I overwhelm myself and go back to old habits.  I need to learn the art of starting small and working my way up to bigger and better things.  They did tell me to reduce my stress.  Stress is the leading cause of unexplained aches and pains.  Stress does crazy things to the body.  How do you de-stress when you do it subconsciously?  My subconscious self doesn't listen very well.  At least I'm not conscious of it listening.   Then there is the fact that I am blogging about my aches and pains.  That can't be good.  There are a thousand other things I want to blog about.  I just got stuck in the ER today so I couldn't blog.  I could just sit there and quietly people watch.  It seems Mondays at Kaiser are a busy day for EKG's.  At least seven other people were there because of chest pains.  All but one were sent on their way.  We must all be stressed.  They did give me this terrible tasting "GI" cocktail that was supposed to help if the pains were actually in my GI tract.  It made me gag, but it didn't do a thing to make me feel better.  I wonder if my body will go completely into shock if I try feeding it healthy food every day?  I wonder what is healthy for my body.  When I eat yogurt people say that dairy really isn't that good for you.  When I eat whole wheat bread they tell me that it isn't really healthy and that I shouldn't eat carbs anyway.  I guess I need to figure out what works for me.  I have to say goodbye to fried foods, fast foods, my occasional Mt Dew and my addiction to ice cream.  I need to embrace salads, fruits, veggies, chicken and fish.  I have to quit looking at the damn yoga video and actually put it in and push play.   I need to take my walking buddies up on walking and get back to water aerobics now that I have a weight belt and don't have to struggle with the killer noodle.  I need to hold myself accountable.   I have too many things to do to be sidetracked by mystery pains. I am going to make the choice to feel good.  Hopefully my subconscious is listening..........

Exorcising My Inner Insecure Teen...............................

I am getting pretty frustrated with the insecure teenage girl who occupies my brain on a part-time basis.  She is whiny, annoying and so insecure that she totally makes me like want to barf.   I am so done with her.  There are many things that I want to accomplish this year, but she is holding me back.  She likes to remind me that I only have a two year degree, that I have A.D.D. and that I get bored with mundane jobs.  She tells me that I am uninteresting, not funny and that I should eat chocolate to alleviate my anxiety.  The sad thing is I listen to her.  Instead of sticking to my diet I eat a bowl of ice cream because it's easier to set yourself up for failure instead of actually succeeding. People expect you to fail, so you may as well prove them right.   I also talk myself out of applying for jobs because obviously I don't have the exact skill set they are looking for.  It is time for an exorcism.  The insecure teenager has to be banished for good.

I spent a lot of years beating myself up over an abortion that I had in 1985.  At the time it was painful, shameful and almost put me over the edge for good.  It was something that I didn't believe in-it went against my nature.  I didn't talk about it for a long time.  I let it eat away at me from the inside because to admit to it would be admitting to being a horrible person with no morals.  Society has a way of putting little labels on people.  No one wants to be labeled.  I learned that painful, shameful secrets can destroy you if you let them. Everyone makes mistakes.  Everyone has moments in life that they are not proud of.  We are human, we can't expect ourselves to be perfect.  We stumble and fall--hopefully we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and try again. The majority of the population has been mislabeled by strangers who know absolutely nothing about the person they are labeling. I know that I have been branded with many different labels over the years.  I can't let the labels that others choose to brand me with define who I really am.  There is a little part of me that is stuck back in 1985 fighting demons that really should be laid to rest by now.  It is time.

Last night I had a very realistic dream that stayed with me when I woke up this morning.  Often times my dreams fade when I wake leaving me with just odd snippets of memory.  I remember faces, bits of conversation and minor details.  Many times when I dream I am not even in the dreams.  I dream of other people and strange circumstances.  Last night I was visited by a boy from 1985 and the daughter that was supposedly ours.  Over the years I have pictured the baby that may have been.  It has always been a brown haired boy with freckles and big brown eyes.  The child in my dream was a blond girl with brilliant blue eyes who wanted to meet me.  She appeared to be around four years old and had a very old soul.  I was self conscious about meeting her because the boy was still a boy, she was a little girl and I was me as I am now.  I feel old and fat.  I feel that I could have accomplished great things but didn't.  She had the boy tell me that my soul was beautiful and in the end that is all that matters.

Life has been good.  I have a beautiful family and a roof over my head.  There are financial struggles but we always make it.  I have been blessed with wonderful friends who put up with my many moods, my strange sense of humor and my zany adventures.  There is no room in my life for my overwhelming insecurity anymore. There are too many things that I want to accomplish.  I can't keep holding myself back.  My lack of self confidence affects my children who love me.  They see me question my self worth and it makes them question their own.   How can I tell them to be positive and that they are capable of doing great things when I can't believe it for myself?  I can't let the opinions of strangers dictate how I feel about life.  I say that I won't, but deep down being judged always affects me because I let it. I sometimes listen to the labels and start to wonder if they are true. I need to grow a thicker skin and stop listening to negative thoughts.

Let the exorcism begin--I will surround myself with affirmations, I will continue meditating and I will work on being who I want to be on the inside.  If people aren't willing to look past the packaging then the loss is theirs.  Just remember that judging too quickly can keep you from many things that are truly worthwhile.  Don't put people in a box with fancy labels.  Look for the good and know that no one deserves to be shoved into a one size fits all box.  Most people do have an insecure teen residing somewhere in their subconscious minds.  It is okay to let them go, you will be happier, healthier and more productive.  I know that I plan to be.

January til June.........

In 2008 my daughter started high school with high hopes and big dreams.  The year started with her playing JVII soccer, getting straight A's and enjoying the activities available at a big school.  Her High School had over 2500 students.  She loved there and wanted to experience everything.  In late October, near the end of her soccer season she contracted Mono.  I'm sure it wasn't from kissing boys; she was burning the candle at both ends. I suspect she was doing too much and her body needed a rest. Bouncing back was much harder than expected.  It became more and more difficult for her to get out of bed in the morning.  She began to change and she didn't like who she was becoming.  In January she was called in to the counseling office because her grades were dropping and her teachers had started noticing the change. We made an appointment with her pediatrician and she was diagnosed with depression which she treated it like a death sentence.  She didn't want depression, she wanted to be the way she used to be, she wanted to deal with it by staying in bed.  Her high school counselor came to the rescue.  He made a huge impact on her life.  The counselor talked to her like she was an adult.  He didn't make her feel that there was anything wrong with her.  He explained that depression wasn't the end of the world, it was a natural chemical imbalance that many people treat successfully.  He helped her to establish goals and cheered her on.  He helped her through her freshman year and made solid plans for their continued work together for her sophomore year.  She went into the summer full of hope and feeling like she was in control.

When we arrived at registration in August to prepare for the new year she was told that her counselor was out on medical leave. She would have an interim counselor but shouldn't worry because he would be back as soon as he was able.  She kept her head up and went into the year trying to juggle her two loves--soccer and drama.  They overlapped a little, but she was sure that she could handle it.  In October we went to conference night and her teachers all had great things to say.  We were told that her counselor was doing better and hoped to be back in his office at school by Christmas break.  She was thrilled.  That feeling of elation didn't last long.  In late October Kelli's counselor was found dead in his car in state park.  He had taken his own life.  The counselor had been battling an issue that doctors couldn't seem to control.  His adrenaline was going non stop and it was taking a toll on his organs.  He couldn't sleep and was unable to think clearly.  He was worried that his problem was draining their medical insurance and about what would be left over for his wife, their small daughter and the unborn baby?  I do not believe he was able to think rationally about what he was doing.  The results were tragic for everyone who cared about him.  My daughter went into a spiral.  Her depression was overtaking her again and she had lost the ally that she had formed at school.

We have had a roller coaster ride over the past 5 years.  Some months are better than others.  I will gain hope, then start worrying again because things can fall apart really quickly.   Last week there was an assignment in her college communications class to give a commemorative speech about someone who has made an impact on your life.  She didn't even have to think about who her speech was going to be about. She gave a beautiful speech about her beloved counselor who she still misses.  In the speech she talked about how she only really knew him from January until June but during that time he gave her some tools that she will use for the rest of her life.

As part of this same communications class she had one last assignment for the term, she needed to go see a public speaker and do a paper rating that speaker.  She had forgotten about this assignment.  She'd had  the entire term to complete it but now there were only a few days left and she had to come up with a public speaker soon in order to pass the class.  I invited her along with me to a class being given by Renee Madsen, an area medium who I respect and adore.  I have been to many of Renee's classes over the past few years.  She is one of the happiest, most positive people that I have ever met.  My Southern Baptist upbringing caused me some guilt at first.  I was taught that mediums and psychics were satanic and that it was a grave sin to have anything to do with any of them.  I wondered what the prophets were if not psychics.  There are prophets throughout the Bible.  I have also studied Edgar Cayce who has been labeled as a modern day prophet who was a very religious man.  Renee believes in God.  She brings a message of love, light and hope.

I had signed up for Renee's class because I planned to take my aunt.  She had lost her husband the year before and has been grief stricken.  Renee's class was on communicating with our lost loved ones.  I wasn't sure if Renee could help my aunt or not and wasn't sure how my aunt would react to Renee.  In the end my aunt ended up backing out but I couldn't because my daughter needed to see a public speaker and her professor had given the okay for this one.   Renee's classes are two hours long.  I enjoy them because I am interested in spirituality.  My daughter is going through a phase where she doesn't believe in anything she can't see.  She was definitely bored during the class.  She was both physically and emotionally uncomfortable.  She didn't love Renee, but she didn't hate her either.  She just wanted the class over with so she could go home, write the paper and be done with it.

After the class I introduced Renee to my daughter.  Renee asked her if she had noticed that during the class she was trying to tell her that there was a young man there for her.  My daughter couldn't think of a young man who would be there from the spirit world and so didn't believe that Renee could have been talking about her.  Renee said that the young man really wanted to let my daughter know that he was sorry.  He didn't mean to leave the way that he did, it was beyond his control.  He was amazed that so many people cared about him and that his passing caused so much grief.  Renee said he had brown hair and was kind of goofy.  One thing that you should know about my daughter's counselor is that even though he was 31 when he died, he had boyish features and could be taken for someone younger.  He had a silly sense of humor as well.  Renee went on to say that the young man didn't want my daughter to be so hard on herself.  That she needed to try.  He also told Renee to tell my daughter January til June.  Renee had no clue what that meant but the young  man said that my daughter would know.  The speech my daughter gave to her communications class last week was not published.  It was given to her class at CCC and read aloud to her boyfriend and me.  We didn't talk about it to anyone.  At this point my daughter still claims that she doesn't believe in things she can't see, but she does find it thought provoking that Renee told her January til June.  Whether her counselor was there or not, the message that was given was one of hope that I believe he would have wanted her to hear.  A message that reminds her that he thought she was worthwhile and she should view herself that way as well.  It only takes a short time to make a big impact in someone's life.  In my daughter's case it was 5 short months, but the lessons he left her with will last her lifetime.

A Dose of Therapy......

None of us can ever really know what goes on behind closed doors.  We have preconceptions of people and believe the grass is greener in lives that appear to be sunnier than our own.  Appearances are just that, the facade that we put up for our own well being and privacy.   Never assume that you understand someone unless you live their life.  Things that look black and white to you may not seem so obvious to the person living in a situation.  Without all of the details, things may not be as black and white as you think.  When I write about my family I don't use their names.  I know that is weird because many of you know who they are.  These are private thoughts and emotions to them.  For me, I share everything. I don't really have secrets.  I am an open book.  My family is more private.  They probably don't appreciate being written about.  I try to respect that, but sometimes I need to write about them.  I also feel that in talking about things you take away that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that you get when you give something power over you. My family believes that some things in our house are terrible and they are.  But they are not shocking, they are struggles that many people have.  If more people talked about it, maybe they would help one another through the hard times.  As with many--my family fears judgement.  No one wants to be judged.

This blog is a lot of things to me.  A way to be creative, a way to be funny on most occasions, a place to vent and sometimes a place just to get something out of my head.  Writing is therapy.  A little therapy never hurt anyone. There is a stigma attached to therapists by some people.  Therapy is seen as something needed by the weak, the mentally ill and people who have been through trauma.  Everyone could use therapy now and then whether it is retail therapy, chocolate therapy, meditation or whatever form or therapy you feel the situation calls for.   Therapy is healthy--keeping things inside is not.   I did decide this past month that I could use a bit of old fashioned therapy with an actual therapist to get me through a rough spot.  The problem is that there are too many confused people and not enough therapists.  I can't get an appointment until July.  So guess what, I need to decompress on my blog.  Today, this is my therapy.

Being a mother is one of the most important choices that I ever made in life.  As with all mothers I wanted to be the best mother possible and give my kids a solid foundation to live happy and fulfilling lives.  I have tried to do that.  The problem is that I have issues with depression, anxiety and self confidence.  These are things I have been working on throughout my life.  Depression is a chemical imbalance that can be passed along to our children.  It is not something that I would have wished on them.  My daughter who I think is beautiful, bright and funny believes she has no self worth.  We have tried as parents to help her through some very difficult times but there is only so much that we can do for our children. She believes that her depression makes her a freak, that she should be stronger than she is and that she is not worth having as a friend because no one understands what she feels inside.  This battle has been going on inside of her for five years now.  It has been an emotional roller coaster.  I have tried to always be available to listen, to love and to encourage her.  Unfortunately I am human and despite good intentions I get frustrated sometimes.  It is hard for me to sit back and watch her sleep for days and to not have any motivation.  I know that there are reasons for it and that it is not just laziness or a lack of something in her character.  I have snapped before, I have cried, I have yelled and I am not at all proud of those moments.  They have not been helpful and have only added to the pain that we both feel.  The doctors are trying.  We have been to her doctor numerous times, there have been tests, therapy appointments and medications.  Something may work for a short time, then all of the sudden things spiral down again.  I do not talk about this often.  It is something that she is embarrassed about though she shouldn't be.  A girl that she really looked up to in high school told her that teens who say they are depressed are just trying to get attention.  These types of remarks are not at all helpful  are made by people who obviously are not in a position to know how hurtful and ignorant their words can be.  Depression is very real, it is not a crutch, it is debilitating.  No one wants to be depressed. No mother wishes that upon her child.

It has been very hard for me to focus and to keep a steady job as I never know when I am going to get a call.  The calls have made some of my friends and family shake their heads.  They most likely feel that I am indulgent and that I am an enabler.  I have questioned the whole enabling thing.  I have talked to doctors and therapists.  Though there are times that I should let her work things out on her own, I do need to be there for her.  She has done what many depressed people do and has isolated herself from friends; she feels very alone.  Her boyfriend is wonderful.  He has suffered from depression himself and is in a good place right now.  He has a patience that you don't usually see in a nineteen year old.  He and I are her support system. My husband tries.  He has a hard time with depression and doesn't completely understand it even though he has lived with me for almost twenty-three years.  He loves her but gets frustrated way more often than I do.  My daughter and I can both feel this frustration.  It is like a living, breathing thing that sucks the air out of a room.  We do appreciate his attempts though and know that he just wants to "fix it".  I wish it was that easy.  The question I have always hated is "what do you have to be depressed about?"  People don't understand that it isn't a choice.

  I feel  responsible.  I feel like I have transferred these thoughts and feelings to her somehow.  We are both far more empathetic than anyone should be.  We are affected by the strong emotions of others.  We know when we are not liked or getting on someones nerves.  We are very aware of negative energy and know when there is stress present.  Our house can be stressful.  We have battled financial issues for years and that underlying worry is always there.  Living paycheck to paycheck affects our family.  Our kids know that there are weeks we can do things and weeks we can't.  They know the stress I feel when I'm worried the whole house of cards is going to blow over at any minute.  We are aware of positive emotions as well.  I try to surround myself with positive people.  I need that energy.  I am trying to teach my daughter to be positive.  There is power in thought and in attitude.  Learning to change your thoughts and attitudes is something that comes with time.  She is young, but she doesn't know it.  As with most nineteen year olds she feels she knows more than she really does and doesn't always appreciate advice from others.  Her stubborn nature comes from both her father and me so she has a double dose.  She needs to get past being stubborn and open herself up to different forms of therapy.  She needs to force herself out of bed and out of the house.  She needs to expand her way of thinking.  I asked her if she read my blog from last week about there being no such thing as normal.  She informed me that she didn't plan on ever reading my blogs.  Good to know.

A few years ago my daughter had the opportunity to go to Brazil for the summer.  I thought this would be perfect for her.  If she could get away from me and my stresses maybe she would have some peace and find a path that would motivate her.  I was wrong.  She couldn't handle being that far away from me.  She became so homesick and depressed that she had to come home early.  She was in good  hands.  I wouldn't have sent her if I didn't trust those she was staying with completely.  She stayed with two different families.  One family is very aware of depression and knows all about my daughter's struggles.  The other family also knows and the wife is a medical professional.  These strong women are role models that I wanted my daughter to live with and learn from.  She was brave and stayed longer than she wanted.  She regrets leaving early now and may have the chance to go back to Brazil with me next summer.  She is confident when I am there.  She wants so much to be independent and I want that for her.

Friends and family try to be supportive.  They give advice and offer suggestions.  I appreciate that and am always looking outside of the box to get us through this.  It isn't black and white though.  She is set off by different things and sometimes her anxiety attacks are more serious than others.  I need to listen and be there in case things go from bad to worse really fast.  She isn't suicidal, she isn't homicidal, she is a young woman who has aspirations of being the person she wants to be but doesn't believe it is possible.  She decided that she didn't want to be dependent on antidepressants.  I go on and off of them as needed.  Sometimes I get what I need from fresh air, sunshine and exercise.  She wanted to be able to do this as well.  Being off of medication was not a good idea in this first year of college when there are new experiences and things to stress over.  The past few months have been especially hard.  Waiting for medical appointments is hard as well.  We were able to get in yesterday and get her a new prescription.  Drugs take time to take affect and may or may not be right for the person taking them.  Finding the right chemical to make a difference is a process.  I hope they got it right.  She has agreed to therapy which she said she never wanted to go to again.  She has yet to find a therapist that she actually likes and feels she can talk to.  Of course that appointment is still two weeks away.   For now I will hope for the best.  I am going out of town this weekend. It is hard to leave her when she is so low.  Her brother and his girlfriend are coming to stay.  Hopefully they will get along and have some sibling bonding moments.  My anxiety is high but I really need to be with my husband and youngest son this weekend.  They need me too.  Everyone needs me.  Sometimes it is overwhelming.  I started back on meds last week so that I can stay calm and in control.  The despair coming from my daughter's room was suffocating me and making me question why I bother to try.  I bother to try because life is good.  The world is full of amazing adventures just waiting for my daughter to find the courage to try.  She can be whatever she chooses, she has a life ahead of her that she has the ability to map out.  I need to be strong, believe in myself and succeed so that she has a good role model under the same roof.

I am off to start my day.  It was a rough night last night and I have been asked to stay close by today in case she needs me.  She is failing a college class that she needed in order to stay in good graces with her financial aid.  I am not going with her--she has been dealing with all of her college stuff without me.  She is a big girl and will go to class, talk to the professor and see if it can be salvaged.  If not I told her we would deal with it.  She is going to try to stay strong if the professor tells her things she doesn't want to hear.  Failing a class isn't pleasant, but it isn't the end of the world.  There will be options and stressing over those options won't make things better.  I will be in the wings in case I am needed.  I might be.  I know that things will get better. We will find something that works.  My oldest son has fought depression as well and it has gotten better with age.  We do have a happy home and a wonderful family.  We do love one another but as with every family we have struggles.  Motherhood is a beautiful thing.  It also comes with its share of heartbreak.  I'm still banking on happily ever after for all of my children.  Happily Ever After is not a myth--it is possible--you just have to make a concentrated effort to get through the rough spots and concentrate on the good.......

Flattery Doesn't Go Very Far............

Back in the day I had cute little curves that turned a few heads here and there.  Going to the bar with friends was always a bit of an adventure because there were sure to be at least a couple interested men on the prowl who would offer a drink, a few compliments and a suggestion or two. I would thank them, make my excuses and leave feeling a little boost of confidence.   There is a certain power that you feel when you are young and desirable.  You don't fully understand or appreciate it at the time of course, at least I didn't.  I was just a hopeless romantic who wanted to find the love of my life and life happily ever after.  I have always been a sap for fairy tales.   One thing that I have always had though is empathy.  I can feel strong emotion and it affects me.  It is intuition that I am sure everyone has if they are aware enough to listen for it.  Sometimes I would walk into a room and know exactly who was interested in me because I could feel it.  

 Needless to say it has been several years since I have turned heads for my curves.  I may have turned heads because I laughed too loud, tripped over my own two feet or have been in the presence of attractive friends, but that is the extent of it.  I am happy with that.  I had my days in the sun and now am enjoying my life as a wife and mother.  My husband loves me so I don't need validation from other men. It does crack me up when my husband gets a bit jealous of the time that I spend with my gay friends.  He finds them a little threatening and worries that just maybe they aren't gay and are really attracted to me.  Funny, but true.  I have always laughed at that and told him not to be ridiculous.

Last month I found myself in a gay bar with friends enjoying a drink before we went to dinner.  I am very comfortable in gay bars which is why I was a bit shocked when I felt something that I hadn't felt in over twenty years--the eyes of someone attracted to me. I wondered if it was the alcohol going to my head.  I had a drink before we left the house and now was nursing a hard cider.  I was on vacation in California and maybe the excitement of the adventure was getting to me.  Soon I found myself in a conversation with an over attentive Hispanic man with sparkling eyes and a bright smile.  He only had eyes for me and that was a bit disconcerting.  He talked to me about his girlfriend who he stayed with only because he was attached to  her son who he felt she didn't pay enough attention to.  He talked about music, Mexico and his two jobs in California.  I had a hard time following him because his English was broken, the music was loud, I was a little drunk and he was sending loud signals.  My friends were amused.  I was amused, but a bit stunned.  It was surreal and went from awkward to just plain weird when we were joined by another man.  A very nice gay gentleman who explained that his friend was very attracted to large butts.  He assured me that he was not trying to offend me at all.  He wanted me to understand that not all men in the world wanted skinny girls who looked plastic.  Some men wanted real women and it was pretty obvious that I was a real woman.  He found me quite attractive, they both did.  The gay man had once been married to a woman and knew what women liked.  He was sure that he could make me very happy.  If I wanted I could even include our Hispanic friend or my friend Linette who is gorgeous and has always turned heads.  I decided that these two men were very nice, a little lonely and completely harmless.  I accepted their compliments, told them about my husband and children at home and respectfully declined their invitation.  They were gracious and let me know that the invitation was open if I should change my mind.  I left feeling a little flattered and a bit more confident.  Maybe it was the alcohol.

When I returned home from my vacation I told my husband all about my adventures in California.  It had been a wonderful trip full of all kinds of fun memories.  His jaw tightened a bit when I explained to him that I was still a desirable woman.  I told him about my new admirers and how lucky he was that I was able to walk away from temptation.  He asked if I was really tempted.  I know he was picturing the beautiful men that are often seen in gay bars--men who only have eyes for each other.  No, honey, I wasn't tempted my 31 year old Hispanic friend was probably 5'1" on a tall day and weighed about 100 pounds.  His friend was quite fit for a 74 year old man.  Of course my husband now says that I am ridiculous for telling him that I am not attractive to gay men.  There is no arguing with him.  I definitely don't have the right equipment to attract my gay friends and I don't want to.  They are just like my female friends--good friends who I adore but don't want to sleep with.  If I ever see my new friends again I would sit down and have a drink with them, enjoy their company and talk about life--I would not go home with them though. With me, flattery doesn't go very far but it is nice to hear that according to some people I still have it--big butt and all.

The size of the heart is what matters.........

Almost seventeen years ago we were approached at church and asked to host an exchange student from Japan.  Seriously?  Us host?  When I was growing up the exchanges students were always hosted by the rich people with big houses.  We were under thirty, living in a small ranch style house and pregnant with our third child.  I declined as the student would be there during the final month of my pregnancy and there was no way I could think of entertaining a stranger in the August heat with two toddlers and a giant belly that was about to burst.  When they asked if they could call me the next year I said sure.  I was sure I would be able to think of an excuse to turn them down again.

In June of 1997 they called again.  They had a Japanese boy that needed a host family for three weeks in August.  They were having trouble placing boys and would really appreciate it if we could help them out.  My husband wasn't really thrilled with the idea but the young woman who was looking for families was our babysitter and she was in a bind.  We decided that we would give it a try.  As fate would have it Seiji Morimoto was dropped off on our doorstep.  At well over six feet tall he was not  your typical Japanese boy.  He came with empty suitcases.  His family owned fruit orchards in Japan, he was forever trying to find good work boots and comfortable shoes that could fit his large feet.  It was hard to get footwear in Japan for a reasonable price.  Seiji had a list of the brands and colors he wanted.  It was a well thought out list that was a little trickier to find in 1997 than it would be today with our instant Internet searches.  We bonded over shoe shopping.  Antone enjoyed the boy and had the time of his life showing him around the area and taking him camping with our family.   The wonderful experience opened our hearts and our minds.

In the spring of 1998 I was asked if I would consider coordinating a Japanese group.  They told me that with my personality and organizational skills I would be a natural.  I was nervous and still juggling toddlers, but agreed to give it a try.  That was the first of fifteen years of working with exchange students and families.  It hasn't been easy.  There are glitches, a few disciplinary problems and finding host families is definitely a problem for me.  I am not a sales person, I do not like to hound people and begging is embarrassing.  I have heard every excuse imaginable.  The most common excuse has got to be that there isn't enough room in their house.  I have been told this by people who have one child in a 3,000sf home as well as the people whose homes are truly bursting at the seams.  Not having room is not a valid excuse.  I have had wonderful families with several children who have opened their small homes and made room for a student.  It isn't about house size, it is about heart size.  In my heart there is always room for one more.

I am a mom.  It was what I was born to be.  I was given an extra dose of nurturing skills that has made me try to mother everyone from my own mother to my friends, co-workers and just about anyone who comes to me with a broken heart or the need of someone to listen.  I love people and am intrigued by our differences.  I am naturally curious and want to know what makes people tick.  I hate it when I find myself judging.  I hate judging and have no right to judge anyone.  I just wish people would really think about hosting without just shutting the idea out because it is beyond their comfort zone.  Once they have thought about it for at least three minutes, then tell me the truth.  I am not comfortable with having people in my home; I don't really have time--whatever the truth might be.  It may be that teenagers of whatever nationality give you hives and you can't imagine having one more underfoot.  It really is fine--we're all wired differently.

I just know that hosting has been a good thing in our house. It has brought us friendship, new experiences and has taught us how alike we all are under the surface.  It doesn't matter what race, class, religion, sex or age we are--we all share similarities.  So many students have passed through our doors that I can't remember them all.  As a coordinator I have had the privilege of touching many lives.  I hope that I have left some good impressions and planted a few seeds. Some of the students I have worked with are doctors, lawyers, husbands, wives and parents now.  I am so happy that Facebook keeps me informed of their lives and accomplishments.  I am proud of them.  It takes a lot of courage to get on a plane, come to a foreign country and live among strangers.  It also takes a lot of courage to open your home to someone you have never met.  I can tell you that it is always an adventure.  Sometimes we have run into some not so fun adventures, but that is what coordinators are for.  I have had to move kids, reprimand kids and in a few cases put them back on a plane before they were scheduled to depart.  These cases have been rare.   Teenagers are teenagers and if you keep your expectations realistic, you just might be pleasantly surprised.

As a mom I want to find the best possible families for each of these students.  I think about my own children and have never put a student in a home that I wouldn't put my kids in.  It wouldn't be fair.  I can't have double standards no matter how many families I need and how desperate I feel.  I do have people who ask why I try to place them in the spring when they don't come until summer.  I try to place students as soon as possible so that their parents know where their kids are going.  They can even start writing to the family and ask questions and get to know one another before the group comes.  I can't imagine putting a child on the plane with no clue where they would be going once they landed in a foreign land.  The one time that I have sent my child away I was lucky enough to know exactly who she was spending time with.  She was with our wonderful extended Brazilian family that we have in our lives because of hosting. People that I truly love and enjoy spending time with.

Fifteen years have gone by.  My toddlers are grown and my husband is ready for some summer adventures of our own.  I have promised that this year I will coordinate my last group.  I won't lie--I have made this promise before.  I have to try to stick to it this time around.  At least for a year or two.  I will miss drafting a calendar and the excitement of the arrival.  I will miss the people that I meet and the fun little things that happen with each group.  I won't miss frantically trying to wrack my brain for just one more host family.  I was very lucky this last summer.  My families came pretty easily and they were awesome.  I have also said that I was done hosting school year students.  That was short lived though because I was handed the right student at the right moment in time so our family is preparing the house for a new family member.  His arrival is greatly anticipated and we are eager to share the little we have with him for the next ten months of our lives.  There are other students out there who need homes as well.  It is late August, they have prepared to spend this school year in the US.  Many are still waiting for a family to accept them.  I have had coordinator friends messaging me to ask if I know of anyone who would be willing to open their hearts to a student this fall.   I can completely appreciate the last minute scrambling that these people do to try to help the students; I've been there before.  It's a tough spot to be in and I don't envy them their job.  Somehow the right families are always found.  There are a lot of people out there with big hearts and a sense of adventure--the trick is always finding them.......