S for Standing Up

“Be the change you want to see in the world.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

On Friday, April 22—Good Friday—I walked into a Planned Parenthood Clinic for the first time in my life. The experience was a bit jarring, but not for the reasons you might think upon reading those words…

I entered the clinic to use the restroom. After nearly an hour of marching outside in the chilly weather, I needed a bathroom break. The reason I was a bit taken aback upon entering the clinic was that it was not what I had expected. You see, when I visit my family clinic for an appointment with my doctor, I walk into a warm waiting area where I am greeted by a receptionist who checks me in. This wasn’t the case at the Planned Parenthood Clinic in St. Paul’s Highland Park neighborhood. Literally as soon as I walked in the door, I was face-to-face with security guards sitting behind a security desk. Don’t get me wrong, the guards and the Planned Parenthood Escorts who were there were very warm, welcoming, and kind, but I was struck by the fact that security guards even had to be there.

I knew why, of course…

“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

~ Mahatma Gandhi

Protestors. Pro-lifers, specifically. They protest the clinic often (I’ve heard as much as daily), sometimes harassing its patients and staff, usually in the name of God. They seem to assume that every person who enters the clinic is there to take part in killing babies or to have her baby killed. Apparently pro-lifers don’t realize that abortions are but a small percentage of the vital services that Planned Parenthood provides. Today was different though. Today, the scope was much bigger…

Every year on Good Friday, hundreds of pro-lifers (also known as anti-choicers) show up at the St. Paul clinic to protest. I’m sure this probably happens at similar clinics around the country. They come to pray for an end to abortion and for clinics like Planned Parenthood to cease to exist.

In response, hundreds of pro-choicers gather to show their support for Planned Parenthood, a woman’s right to choose, and the vital services the clinic provides. I am proud to say that I was one of those supporters, which is why I had occasion to enter the clinic to use the restroom on Friday. This was my first time being involved in this, or any, rally and the experience was amazing.

I arrived at the clinic at around 1:30 p.m. I drove down Ford Parkway, passing in front of the clinic, in order to drive around the block to find parking; I will openly admit that I also wanted to see what I was getting myself into. I first drove past the anit-choicers. They were somberly walking in a circle in the temporarily fenced “pen,” formerly a traffic lane, which was designated as their protesting area. They looked like a walking funeral procession. A space as wide as the Planned Parenthood driveway separated them from the “other side.”

I heard the cars in front of me honking just as I approached the Planned Parenthood supporters, also in their own “pen.” I was moved to tears as I laid on my horn and reveled in the hoots and hollers from the enormous group of supporters. The feeling and energy coming from the group was powerful—they were smiling, waving, and jumping up and down. I was excited to soon be joining their ranks. I found a parking spot a block away, right behind the clinic. I could hear the honking and hollers as I got out of my car, and the noise grew louder as I approached the clinic parking lot to check in. The feeling was electric!

I couldn’t wait for MusicMan who, unlike me, hadn’t been able to get the whole day off of work, to join me. I was a bit apprehensive about joining the fray alone, but soon found out there was no need to be. Everyone was so kind and welcoming! I signed in, dropped of my food shelf donation, grabbed a sign, waited for an opening in the crowd of supporters passing by me, and jumped right in. A woman in the crowd began talking to me almost instantly. The same thing—spontaneous conversations between strangers—happened all day. It was as though I was with an enormous group of friends.

For the most part, it was a peaceful event. I can't discount the presence of the St. Paul Police as having played a role, but thankfully their presence seemed to be enough and no intervention was needed. A few pro-lifers who walked and drove by our area scowled, gave the thumbs down, or held their fingers up in the sign of the cross. (So, we’re demons and/or vampires now? Cool.) One guy screamed at us from across the street, but the honks of support and cheers from the crowd were too loud for us to hear what he had to say. It seemed as though every time the anti-choicers had someone on their PA system leading a prayer or hymn, or spewing their rhetoric, a bunch of cars would drive by and start honking to show their support. And, in what became almost a Pavlovian response from the crowd, we would holler and cheer back. I cannot appropriately describe to you the energy and spirit from this amazing group of people I was now a part of. We were a force!

Though I’d given monetary donations to Planned Parenthood plenty of times in the past, donating on Friday was too fun to pass up. Planned Parenthood was offering its supporters the option to pledge a protestor. The idea was the more protestors who showed up against the clinic, the more money was made for the clinic. Genius, right?! I found it to be absolutely brilliant and was delighted that money was being made on the backs of those who try their hardest to stop the good work this clinic does. MusicMan and I pledged a few protestors, because we believe in Planned Parenthood.

It has been proven time and again that sex education and contraception, both services that Planned Parenthood provides far more often than abortions, are key to preventing unwanted pregnancies. Unwanted pregnancies lead to abortions. Thus, it goes without saying that these key services are vital to reducing the need for abortions. It’s too bad the anti-choicers can’t do a little research to figure that out. The fact is that Planned Parenthood probably does more in one day to prevent abortions than pro-lifers do in a year. In addition to the invaluable services I’ve already mentioned, they also provide comprehensive medical exams, for women and men, including STD testing and life-saving cancer screenings.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know that I have some strong beliefs and that I have no problem stating them. Friday I got the opportunity to stand behind my words. I stood up for an amazing clinic and for women’s rights. Because I believe that women—not religious zealots or politicians—should have control of their bodies and reproduction. I appreciated the opportunity to take action in such a way. So much so that this will become an annual event for MusicMan and me, and instead of a two hour time slot, we will participate for as much of the day as we can.

My experience at Friday’s rally restored my faith in humanity a little bit. Seeing all of the support from people from a plethora of various ethnic groups, age ranges, and socio-economic backgrounds gave me hope that one day Planned Parenthood’s patients and staff won’t need to be greeted by security guards. Because maybe—just maybe—rational minds will prevail over irrational, intolerants ones and logic and reason will become the norm.

I leave you with some incredible photos MusicMan took to capture the day.

Cheering for the cars showing their support.

Look at all that support for Planned Parenthood!

A little dramatic, no? Pro-lifers doing a good job of illustrating just how superhuman Jesus truly was. I mean, he did carry his cross all on his own.

Typical pro-life propaganda. As this guy walked by MusicMan, he mad sure to flash this ultrasound photo. Dude obviously doesn't realize there are term limits on abortions. A fetus as developed as the one on that ultrasound couldn't legally be aborted....not at Planned Parenthood or anywhere else. Way to educate yourself there, Mr. Anti-Choicer!

This photo really illustrates some of the energy in the crowd of supporters. Despite the absence of any spring-like downright dreary weather in Minnesota!

  

I loved this woman's sign. It shows that one can be religious and have faith, but still be rational enough to realize that a woman's choice is her own.

I for I believe...

GAH! I am so frustrated lately, lovely reader. The recent election has me all in a tizzy. Now decency and politeness dictate that one should never discuss politics or religion if she wants to keep friends, but I’m going to throw caution to the wind today and focus on politics for a moment.

I seriously cannot believe the close-mindedness that exists in the world today. Republican/Democrat, Conservative/Liberal, I really don’t care. I can find viewpoints I understand and/or agree with from either party. I personally think we need to get away from the two-party system and back to “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I tend to fall more Democrat/Independent/Liberal. What I can’t stand, and what scares me the most, is the Tea Party. Some Conservatives/Republicans even say that the Tea Party is bat shit crazy! To me, that is definitely cause for concern.

So you can imagine my disgust and outright sadness over the fact that my state nominated a tea partier, Michele Bachman, to represent us in Congress. Yes. People actually went out and voted for a woman, who’s said out loud:

"Little children will be forced to learn that homosexuality is normal and natural and perhaps they should try it."

( Interview with Jan Markell, Olive Tree Ministries.)

“Normalization (of gayness) through desensitization. Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders, is to take a picture of ‘The Lion King’ for instance, and a teacher might say, ‘Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?’ The message is: I’m better at what I do because I’m gay.”

(Speaking at EdWatch National Education Conference, November 6, 2004.)

"That's why people need to continue to go to the town halls, continue to melt the phone lines of their liberal members of Congress, and let them know, under no certain circumstances will I give the government control over my body and my health care decisions."

(As a pro-lifer, she completely missed the irony of using the same slogan as the pro-choice movement in arguing against health care reform.)

She’s also said, “not all cultures are equal,” and, “Carbon dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn't even one study that can be produced that shows that carbon dioxide is a harmful gas." She urged her supporters to vote for her so that, together, they “can take back our freedom!” But, her definition of freedom is quite skewed. Freedom to Michele Bachman means freedom from government control (funny that she’d even want to be a part of the government she hates so much) and taxes, but it does not include the freedom to decide who you will marry. If you’re a woman, Michele Bachman’s version of freedom also doesn’t allow you to make decisions regarding your own body as she wants to ban abortion.

Women who voted for Michele Bachman, or any other tea partier for that matter, are an affront to all women. I realize that saying you’ve betrayed your gender is using strong language, and that it might sound a bit harsh, but that’s how strongly I feel about a woman’s right to choose. I am completely and totally appalled that another woman would even conceive of denying such an important right to other women, and I cannot believe that women would so willingly vote to give up that right. Whether or not you have or would have an abortion isn’t the issue, the issue is that it is an individual woman’s right to choose—not the government’s, not the religious right’s, not the fetus’—it is a woman’s right to choose. We must never allow that right to be taken away.

I fear for the future of our country if the tea party does in fact take it over. I am not at all joking when I say that I will leave this country if that happens. I realize that nowhere is perfect, and that I’ll likely have my fair share of complaints and problems in Germany, Australia, Canada, or any number of other places, but I refuse to live under the tea party’s fascist regime.

I don’t want to live in a country surrounded by heavily reinforced, tightly guarded walls simply because my country’s leaders believe we need to protect ourselves and our country from evil immigrants. We seem to forget that this country was founded on immigration. And let’s not forget that walls don’t only serve to keep people out; they also keep people in. I refuse to be trapped; forced to live under totalitarian rule, under the guise that it’s for my own protection. I don’t want to live in a country in which the government denies basic civil rights to certain citizens simply because they were born to love a person of the same sex as themselves. And I most certainly don’t want to live in a country in which governing law is based upon Christianity, which of course dictates that life is life, and as such, my uterus and its contents are subject to their “protection” instead of my choice.

Instead of railing on about how much I hate the tea party, and fear for my country’s future, perhaps it would just be easier if I tell you what I do believe.

I believe that this country was not founded on Christianity, and as such, should not be run based on Christian principles and values. Our forefathers came to America to escape religious persecution, and as such, our government isn’t, and should never be, based upon one singular religion. There is a reason that separation of church and state exists, and we need to keep it that way. I’m all for religious freedom. You practice whatever religion you want in whatever way you want to, but keep your religion out of my government and away from my body.

I believe that marriage, and all of the rights and protections it affords, is a basic civil right. Two consenting adults, of appropriate age and sound mind, should be allowed to unite in a legally binding marriage regardless of their sexual orientation. If you want to keep those marriages out of your church, that’s fine. You still cannot stop the government from denying basic civil rights to its citizens. Again, you are entitled to your beliefs, but you are not allowed to force them upon others. Don’t like or want gay marriage? Don’t have one!

I believe that we are all responsible for paying our fair share in taxes, and that it is the government’s responsibility to allocate those funds appropriately. I don’t particularly enjoy paying the portion of taxes that goes towards funding public schools. I don’t have children, nor do I plan to, so I don’t get my money’s worth out of those services. However, I realize that educating our children is important to our future, so I’m okay with some of my taxes going towards education.

I would like to know what services Republicans/Conservatives are willing to give up in order to lower our taxes. Should we give up the paving of roads? Police and emergency medical services? Fire departments? Oh, I know! We should cut social services, because that is the one thing that doesn’t personally impact you; am I right?

I believe that people are generally good, honest, and want to be contributing members of society. Contrary to the disgusting belief that poor people live off the government by choice, because they’re just worthless and lazy, I understand that some people need a little help now and then. Call me naïve, but I don’t think most people are content to just laze around, living off of others. Most people who utilize social services do so as a means of bettering themselves and their lives; they in no way intend it to be a permanent solution.

I’m okay with my taxes going towards providing food, shelter, and medical services to those who need it. I’m thankful that those services were available to my twenty-four-year old mother when she found herself unable to feed her three young children on her own because the little money she made at her retail job went towards daycare and rent. Many people seem to think that the government shouldn’t spend our tax money on social programs, because charities can meet the needs of the unfortunate. That simply isn’t true. My youngest sister contacted a few charities to try to get help feeding her and her toddler and paying for housing while she was temporarily jobless, and she was denied services because she didn’t fit the criteria; she apparently wasn’t poor/needy enough. If being a jobless single mom isn’t poor enough, I don’t care to know what is.

I believe that health care is a right, not a privilege. It is shameful that the richest country in the world doesn’t make sure that all of its citizens have access to basic medical care. It’s deplorable that the health care industry focuses more on the almighty dollar than on taking care of people. The system needs to change.

I believe that hate speech/crime, anti-bullying, and anti-discrimination legislation wouldn’t be necessary if people would accept that we’re all different, and that’s okay. No one is better than anyone else simply because their privilege afforded them the opportunity to be born white, or male, or middle class, or rich, or in the good old U S of A. People who had the “misfortune” of being born gay, or black, or female, or to low income or uneducated parents are not lesser people, and we shouldn’t treat them like second class citizens. We are all people regardless of race, class, gender, or sexual orientation, and as such, we deserve certain rights under the constitution. No one should have to suffer chronic discrimination or hatred or torture simply because they are deemed by someone else to be different.

I believe that rational and logical thought, scientific evidence and facts, and education are key to making informed decisions. Voters carry a big responsibility, and you do yourself and others a great disservice by voting purely based on emotions or on what your church or others tell you to believe. Knowledge is power! Educate yourself on the issues, and make informed decisions based on your principles and morals. Morality and God do not go hand-in-hand; nonbelievers know and understand right from wrong too, and most of us are generally good no matter where our morals and principles came from.  If your morals and principles happen to match your religion or church’s, well I guess that’s pretty convenient; however, your way is not the only way and your beliefs are no more right or valid than anyone else’s.

I believe that abortion is a woman’s health issue, and it is a woman’s right to choose what is best for her. A small amount of women making poor choices (i.e. using abortion as birth control) does not mean we should take the right to choose away from all women. Women get abortions regardless of whether or not it’s legal, regardless of the risk to their lives or health, regardless of the morality of abortion, and regardless of what the fetus may or may not be. When abortion wasn’t legal, women still found ways to end their pregnancies, and unfortunately some of those methods were dangerous and ended in women dying. That is not okay, and we can never go back to that.

The life of a fetus is a subjective matter. One must first get life—i.e. be born—to have a right to life. Fetuses are different from born human beings in prefunds ways; the most fundamental of which is that a fetus is totally dependent on a woman’s body to survive. She is the only one who can keep it alive; therefore, she is the one who gets to make the choice on whether or not to carry her pregnancy to term. A fetus doesn’t have the right to use the woman’s body against her will. Can we force people to donate organs to keep others alive? No; we can’t, because only living, breathing, viable human beings have rights.

Many times, the decision to abort isn’t made from the perspective of not wanting the child, but rather knowing that one cannot provide a decent life for that child. I know women who’ve had abortions and women who’ve given their children up for adoption, and the women in the latter group are far more psychologically troubled over their decision than women in the former group, because there is more finality and closure to abortion than there is for adoption. I am sadder for all of the unwanted children living in orphanages in this world, wishing to be adopted into families, than I am for the potential children that were lost to abortion.

That’s right; I said potential children. That’s what a fetus is: a potential human life. Just as a 16 year old boy can’t walk into a bar and legally be served alcohol simply because he’s a “potential 21 year old,” we don’t extend rights, including the right to life, to a fetus simply because the potential for life exists.

Yes, I understand that it is oftentimes partially the woman’s fault for becoming pregnant, but in cases of rape it is not. For those who believe that abortion is a viable alternative only in cases where the victim was raped, I’d ask why it’s only in those cases that the mother’s life and choice is more important than a fetus’.  What gives you the right to decide that abortion is only appropriate in certain situations? Again, I say that this very private choice belongs in the hands of women.

I’d also argue that keeping our women uneducated, by not allowing comprehensive sex education in schools, further decreases her fault in accidentally getting pregnant. If she didn’t know how to prevent it, she can hardly take all of the blame for it. It is a proven fact that comprehensive sex education decreases pregnancy—especially teenage pregnancy—and does not increase the likelihood that a teenager will have sex. If we want to decrease abortions, we could start with teaching comprehensive sex education in our schools, but we cannot completely remove abortion as an option. Once again, if your religion, principles, or morals dictate that abortion is wrong, don’t get one, but you cannot take that choice away from women who do not hold the same beliefs as you.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd, I’m spent! If you’ve hung in there and read this whole post, you’re awesome and I thank you for indulging me. I am open to your thoughts and opinions, even if you don’t agree with me. As I said before, knowledge is power. I am open to hearing points of view that differ from my own, because you never know when you just might learn something. Don’t be afraid to start the dialogue by commenting below. I’m a big girl; I can take whatever it is you have to say to me. I hope you all have a fabulous weekend.

W for Words Are Powerful

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

Or something like that. We’re all familiar with this quote, or some variation of it, but have you ever stopped to consider its meaning? It’s not true. Not at all. As a former victim of emotional abuse, which is a story for another day, I speak from experience when I say that sometimes words can hurt more than sticks and stones (or punches and kicks for that matter). Bumps and bruises eventually heal, but the power of hateful, hurtful words can leave a lasting impact that’s sometimes imperceptible to everyone but the person to whom the words were said.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to downplay physical abuse. Having lost a sister to domestic violence, I know all too well how damaging it can be. I think most people are aware of that, because it's harder to deny the hard evidence left behind by physical abuse. Fewer people seem to know and understand the damage and long term impacts of verbal/emotional abuse.

One need only look at recent news headlines to see how much words truly can hurt. There seems to be an epidemic of gay teens, and some straight teens accused of being gay, committing suicide. Words obviously hurt them. So badly, in fact, that they saw death as the only escape from their pain. They were bullied—no harassed—to death. Day in and day out, these victims suffered in silence as they were tormented by the words of others; others who’d singled them out simply because they were different. It’s disgusting and disturbing and it makes me physically ill—my stomach and heart ache as I write this.

What has the world come to? Where are the parents of these bullies? How is this being allowed to happen? How has being accused of being gay, even if you’re not, become such a horrible thing that one would end his/her life over it? I just don’t get it. Why do people care so much about the sexual preferences of others?! It shouldn’t matter! Live and let live, for crying out loud! I seriously don’t get how or why people fear and loathe homosexuals so much. I know religion plays a role, and I don’t even want to get started down that path at the risk of offending the six or so regular readers I have out there. We are all human beings. Why can’t we treat each other as such?

We, as a society, need to fix this. We can start by teaching our children that words do hurt and it’s not okay to insult, humiliate, taunt, or demean anyone. Ever. We can stand up and show support for victims, and should intervene when we witness such harassment. As adults, we need to model good behavior for children. We need to show them that it’s important to treat others with respect, to be kind, and to not fear what we don’t understand, but rather to seek out knowledge to gain better understanding.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, parents need to step up and parent. You need to know what’s going on with your kids! I don’t care whether your kid is the victim or the bully; you have a responsibility as a parent to step in. You must protect your child; you cannot rely on the school or anyone else to do it for you. If you find out your kid is a bully, it’s your responsibility to teach your child that this terrible behavior will not be tolerated and cannot continue. Sometimes you just have to step up and be the authority figure instead of the friend!

Lest anyone think I’m leaving anyone out, let me assure you that I understand that straight kids are bullied too. I get that. I’ve witnessed it, and I was a victim myself. But the reality is that gay kids and teens are more likely to commit suicide as a result of the constant harassment and torture over their sexuality, because unlike the straight kids, they cannot change the thing that makes them different.

Yep. I said it. Homosexuality is not a choice. Homosexuals are born, not made. And until people understand and accept that fact, I fear this horror will not end. How many more lives need to be cut tragically short before people get it? I don’t care what you think your bible says, and I don’t care what your political party tells its sheeple to believe. You mustn't give in to the fear mongering. People are dying. This has to stop.

I don’t know what the answer is. I wish I did, but I don’t. All I know is that life is hard enough as it is. There is no good reason that any one individual should need to try to make the lives of others any harder. I'd like to believe that we're all more evolved than that, but maybe I'm naïve and too idealistic. Let’s all try to honor the simplicity of the golden rule, shall we? Treat others as you’d like to be treated. I think it really can be that simple.

S for Sad (or SAD)

I’m beginning to wonder if a choice I made back in April was the right one. That’s the nature of choices though, isn’t it? Some of you might remember that I decided to go off my antidepressants back then. I’d been on them for a few years and felt as though enough time and healing had passed for me to take a stab at life on my own without the help of chemicals. My doctor developed a good plan for me to gradually taper off, and everything worked out well. I didn’t experience any withdrawal symptoms, increased depression, or really any side effects at all.

Now, though, I’m beginning to wonder if I wasn’t a little too quick to make the decision I did. As the weather changes and we move further into fall, I find my mood changing as well. And not for the good. As the days get shorter and darker, so does my patience and mood. I’ve been feeling down a little more regularly lately, and I find that I either want to sleep way too much or I have trouble sleeping. Today, I feel downright sad and weepy. That’s not cool when I’m stuck at work. And it’s frustrating, because I really have no reason to be sad. Well, let me rephrase that…

There is no immediate cause for my sadness. Nothing in particular has happened recently to upset me. I’ve long suspected that I have SAD, and the way I’m feeling lately confirms this self-diagnosis. Of course, this will always be a bad time of year for me. October brings the bittersweet anniversary of the trial and sentencing of Zachary, the man who ended my sister’s life, and December brings an anniversary I’d rather never have to acknowledge. Yes, it’s safe to say that this will always, always be a bad time of year. And, of course, it just happens to coincide with the season that brings colder, darker weather. It’s just not a good combination.

I try not to focus on it or think about it, but the hole created where my sister used to be is just as much a part of me as she was when she was here. I want so badly not to forget her, and I fear that I am. That I do. Or maybe I just try to force myself too hard to try to remember her, and that compounds the feelings that I’m a bad sister for forgetting. I wish there was a way to remember her but to forget the pain. I know that’s not possible. And while the pain isn’t as ever-present and hard as it used to be, because it’s true what “they” say about time healing, it’s still there. It will always be there. And at this time of year, it seems to push harder and becomes a more forceful presence. That sucks. Really HARD!

I suppose it doesn’t help that I spent last night writing a post for tomorrow that stirred up a lot of not so good memories, but it was cathartic for me, and I look forward to sharing it with you tomorrow. Then, I sometimes wonder if this being a bad time of year isn’t a self-fulfilling prophecy. Am I choosing to focus on the pain, thus making this a bad time of year? Is this something I can control?

I don’t know. I don’t think so though. If I were my mother, the answer would be a resounding, “YES!” Because my mother lives for attention and seems to crave pity. I, however, do not.

It also doesn't help that, because Psychology class runs for three and a half hours every single Saturday, I don't have as much downtime as I'm used to. So, I'm not resting and recharging as much as I'm used to. I’m not entirely sure how I want to deal with this seasonal depression thing right now. I think I’m going to just try to be gentle with myself for a bit. No undue pressure to be the best I can be for everyone else, but instead focus on taking care of me the best I can for me. And, of course, I’ll let MusicMan help out with taking care of me too.

I think that maybe I need to release this by just having a good long cry. What do you do, lovely reader, when you're feeling down?

C for Choice

Every single day, we’re faced with them. Some are bigger than others. Some can be made in a split second while others take further research and thought. We suffer the consequences or reap the benefits from them. They’re almost always available to us, even if we do not see them. What am I speaking of?

CHOICES!

I am consistently amazed at how many people don’t seem to grasp the simple concept of choice. A lot of times, the only choice available to us is choosing our attitude. How we choose to respond to life situations can make a bad situation much worse or significantly better.

Life is a matter of perspective. In many ways, it’s only as hard or as bad as we make it or as we believe it to be. When the going gets tough, you can sit around and pity yourself, expecting others to pity you as well. OR You can realize that you have sole responsibility and control over your life, and as such, YOU are the only one who can make the changes that are necessary to make life easier or better.

I know that we all throw ourselves pity parties here and there; I’ve definitely thrown my fair share. It’s important to be able to vent, and I think that’s a natural way for many people to deal with stress and emotional upset. However, there’s a definite difference between venting and consistently whining about anything and everything that comes to mind. If you’re regularly throwing the same pity party over, and over, and over again, you eventually get to the point where no one’s gonna show up anymore, because they’re sick of it.

If your “party guests” (i.e. friends, family, etc.) have offered to help or given helpful advice in the past and you’ve refused to acknowledge it in any way, preferring instead to wallow in your pity puddle, then you can’t expect them to continue to listen to you. This does not mean you should find new victims to prey upon…

It never fails, in any given class, that there’s at least one student who seems to think that his or her life is harder than anyone else could possibly imagine. This student typically thinks class discussion time is meant for her personal therapy. It drives me insane!!! On Wednesday, we heard multiple tales of woe from young single mom.

Ms. Poor Me is a young, single, stay-at-home mom, but she works. (Yeah, I don’t get it either.) She works split shift as a medical assistant at a nursing home, which is apparently the hardest job known to man. She also attends school full time. As such, she’s overwhelmingly busy and overburdened. She gets up in the morning, gets the kids off to school, grabs an hour or so of sleep, heads to class, comes home and gets the kids off the school bus, works on homework, makes dinner, grabs a couple hours of sleep, heads to class, heads to work, goes home and sleeps for about an hour, and wakes up and starts all over again. Sounds exhausting, doesn’t it?!?!

I will full out admit that I wouldn’t want her life. I couldn’t do it! Constant exhaustion does not work for me. But, home girl apparently fails to realize that she has some choices in there. Were I a single mom with a couple kids, I’d make different choices in order to avoid some of the exhaustion. I’d find people to help out with the kids—the ex husband, family members, daycare—and I’d only attend classes part time. Trust me; I’d love to be able to go to school full time in order to finish my degree quicker, but it’s just not feasible! I have to work, because I have bills to pay. In order to strike some kind of balance between social life, work, and school, I decided to take classes part time. I want to be able to put as much effort as possible into the classes I do take, but I don’t want my marriage, my family relationships and friendships, or my work to suffer.

I made my choice. Homegirl made hers too, but she fails to see that. Instead, she wants pity and adoration from everyone around her. We should all be patting her on the head and kissing her ass while saying things like, “Oh! You’re a single mom. That’s incredible! I know that takes a lot of work. Good for you!” or “Oh, man, your life sounds exhausting! How do you do it?! You’re awesome!”

I understand that there are some things that are beyond our control. It’s probably nearly impossible for her to find a better job in this economy, so she’s forced to work around that. I know that she probably didn’t anticipate her divorce, so there was no way for her to prepare for being a single mom. I get all that. I also understand how hard being a single mom is; I was raised by one, and saw every single day how much she struggled to provide for her family. However, there are still some things homegirl can change to make life easier; however, she can’t see that, because she’s too busy feeling sorry for herself.

Then there was the guy who talked about how his wife was horribly discriminated against by Minnesota’s major university. Apparently this guy’s poor wife was forced to take a semester off because she was pregnant and that pregnancy became high risk, rendering her virtually disabled. She had a note from her doctor indicating that she was to be on bed rest and that movement should be kept to a minimum. Despite this, the university would not find a way for her to travel between classes on campus. My question: WHY is this the university’s fault or problem?!?!

Could this woman not have found a wheelchair or some other solution? If not, why did she expect the university to? Is getting pregnant and having children not a choice? I’m hard pressed to believe that she absolutely had to get pregnant, let alone a semester or two away from graduation. If her degree meant so damn much to her that it was absolutely devastating that she had to take a semester off, why did she choose to get pregnant at the time that she did? (I know; I know. These things aren’t always planned. That’s still a choice. She either didn’t use birth control or didn’t use it correctly. If birth control failed, she obviously chose not to use Plan B.) I know she probably expected to have a normal pregnancy that would cause no issues, but how do you not think of the “what ifs” beforehand? Am I the only one who does that? Is it really so inconceivable to think things out ahead of time in an attempt to consider, and hopefully prepare for, all possible outcomes? What. The. FUCK?!?!

Do people really not realize or understand that having children is a choice? IT IS! Newsflash, people of the world:

You can choose not to procreate!
(For those who might not understand such big words: You can choose not to have babies!)

In fact, I’d encourage many people out there not to even think about having children! There are ways to still have sex and not get pregnant; of course some birth control methods are more foolproof, and work better, than others. For example, I have an IUD. I do not want children, but I’m also not ready to completely eliminate the possibility, which is why I haven’t chosen permanent sterilization (yet). Thus the IUD, or “egg scrambler” as Music Man so affectionately calls it, which I love so much that I would seriously hug it if I could.

I apologize if I seem particularly "ranty" today, lovely reader. I’ve just had it with my classmates. The parents are by far the worst. It’s as though, because they’ve made their contribution to prolonging the existence of the human species, they think they are to be revered and admired. That they’re able to go to school on top of providing for the family they chose to have is apparently a feat of superhuman proportions.

A message to my classmates:
If you chose to have children, and you did in one way or another if you do have them, you are not special. Many people have made the same choice, and many of them work just as hard as (if not harder than) you at being good providers for their families. The world doesn’t owe you anything simply because you contributed your DNA to the cause of creating a new life, so quit your bitching!! Go ahead and pat yourself on the back all you’d like, but don’t complain to the rest of us when you break your arm doing it, and don’t expect us to lose our shit over how completely and totally amazing you are.

Look, we’re all pretty damn incredible for going to school. We all can be applauded and admired for seeking out higher education and for working hard in our classes. Okay?! On the same note, many of us pay quite a bit of money to take these classes. I, for one, don’t appreciate my money being wasted on your cries for attention or attempts at free therapy, so knock it the fuck off already!

That is all.

Not so much love,
~ Elle

P.S. While we’re at it, please learn how to write in proper English, paying special attention to spelling and grammar. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?!

B for Birthday!

Well, I’m officially another year older, and thanks to a few semesters of college courses, I can say I’m another year wiser too! I know all sorts of crap about rocks and international film. You know, all the important stuff!

As I alluded to in my previous post, I had an awesome birthday weekend. Music Man had said we’d celebrate my birthday together on Saturday (a day early), because we had plans to go to my mom’s on Sunday for a family get together. Friday night I got to spend time just relaxing while Music Man ran around town trying to find a bike for my nephew.

The bike story is kind of a long one, but I’ll try to summarize it. Basically, my mom promised Li’l D a new bike if he was good all week; good defined as no potty accidents and good behavior. He worked hard to earn his reward. The problem? My mom couldn’t afford the $80 bike. She should’ve known this when she promised it to him, but she opened her mouth and made the promise anyway. Then, she called me to bail her out.

Now, if my nephew were a little older than four, I would’ve made my mom explain to him that she’d made a promise she couldn’t keep; that even though he’d worked his butt off, he wouldn’t be getting a bike. However, I know how hard my nephew had to work to keep up his end of the bargain, and I felt he deserved the bike. There was still a second problem though: my mom promised Li’l D a bike they’d found online at a big box store’s website.

Music Man went to two different stores during his lunch break on Friday and had no luck finding the bike. He called at least four other stores as well, only to be told that they also didn’t have the bike. So, he ran out to the last store that might have had one on Friday. Thankfully he was able to get the last one. Once again, auntie and uncle (mostly uncle) saved the day!

(Li'l D posing with his new bike!)

Music Man and I spent the rest of the night catching up on shows Tivo had recorded for us throughout the week, and I got my first birthday present from him and the dogs later in the evening. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, lovely reader, but I have an obsession with fun, different pens. (As long as the ink is blue; I will not—cannot—write with black ink.) That being said, I was delighted to receive a red Crayola Executive Pen from my husband and “kids.”

It’s something I probably never would’ve bought myself, which makes it an awesome gift. It will certainly make the anticipated hell of summer classes a little more fun!

We woke up to nasty weather on Saturday. A thunderstorm was brewing, coloring the sky gray and stirring up crazy wind. Music Man gave me my birthday gift from the kids. It’s a beautiful collage frame containing one of my favorite wedding pictures of us and two of my favorite pictures of the dogs.

I also got the cutest card! It had a picture of a Pug with big red lips on the front, and inside it read, “Pugs and Kisses on your birthday!” Dexter* had “signed” it, “I da Pug. Love, Dex,” and Lucy* had signed it, “I da Kisses. Love, Lucy.” It’s adorable, because it’s so true; Dexter is, of course, a Pug, and Lucy looooooves to give kisses, even if (especially if) they’re not wanted.

Music Man ran out to get our favorite breakfast sandwiches from Panera Bread, and we lazed around drinking coffee. I eventually dozed off on the couch and had a really nice nap with the dogs curled up next to me.

After I was showered and dressed for the day, Music Man handed me money and sent me off to get a pedicure and manicure at the nail salon down the street. It’s become tradition that I get my first pedicure of the summer season at or around my birthday, so I was really looking forward to it. I wasn’t expecting Music Man to pay for it, but he insisted.

I got the deluxe spa pedicure, which involved sitting in one of those electronic massage chairs while my feet and legs (from the knee down) were pampered. The spa part includes bath salts in the foot bath, followed by the feet and lower legs getting slathered in moisturizing gel and covered with hot towels, followed by an exfoliating mud treatment, followed by a foot and leg massage, and finally a hot stone foot and leg massage. It was fantastic!!

I hate feet in general (particularly my feet) and I hate people touching my feet, but I love a good pedicure. It always amazes me that the salon technicians seem to know how to get through it without tickling my feet. They make it a nice, relaxing experience and afterwards I can’t help but to stare at my transformed feet and pretty toes.

(For those who questioned my webbed toes in Wayback Wednesday - Part 2)

Shortly after I got home, the mailman arrived. Music Man was thrilled; he had been cursing the late arrival of the mail all day. Shortly after a package was delivered to our door, Music Man told me it was time for my “big” birthday gift (as though I hadn’t already been spoiled enough!). I cannot even begin to describe how surprised and thrilled I was when I opened my birthday card to find concert tickets…

In the end of August, I’m going to see LADY GAGA!!!!! My BFF, who from here on shall be known as Rockstarr in this blog (per her request), and I have been talking about going to the concert for a while now. Gaga’s shows have been compared to Madonna in the 80’s; in other words, SPECTACULAR! Rockstarr and I like Gaga and her music, and we’ve heard the theatrics and costumes are such a site to see! Now, we’re going!!!

Music Man was thrown into a minor panic last week when I unknowingly and nonchalantly told him that Rockstarr and I were thinking about trying to get tickets, because even the overpriced crappy seats we were finding would be better than no seats. Our interest in tickets had been reignited by previews for next week’s episode of Glee, in which the cast is going to tackle some Lady Gaga songs. Good thing Music Man and Rockstarr are friends on Facebook, because he was able to tell her to stop looking for and talking about tickets. I don’t know how either of them managed to keep this secret from me!

Music Man is horrible at keeping secrets, and he’s kept this one for a while now. He was running around the house all week last week talking about how excited he was for my birthday and how he couldn’t wait to give me my gift. I thought for sure he’d spill the secret by the middle of the week, but he didn’t. The tickets arrived later than he thought they would; he thought he’d have them well before Saturday, which is why he was so antsy for the mailman.

The tickets he got are awesome—Rockstarr and I are gonna have kick ass seats! Apparently Music Man used to play in a band with a guy who’s working as a roadie on Gaga’s tour. The guy didn’t want the tickets he was given for the Minnesota show, because his wife wasn’t going to be able to use them, so he sold them to Music Man.

I cannot believe he got me such a fantastic gift! I am so freakin’ excited for the end of August! Classes will have been over for a couple weeks by then, so it will be a nice way to go out and celebrate surviving the summer of hell.

Music Man had made dinner reservations at one of my favorite local seafood restaurants for Saturday evening, so we went out and had a delicious dinner that included shrimp scampi and coconut shrimp. Overall, a fabulous birthday thanks to my incredible husband! I don’t know how I got so lucky to find such an amazing, thoughtful, loving, caring husband, but I cherish him every single day.

Thanks to Music Man, I got to sleep in for about an hour on Sunday morning. Usually, we both get up when the dogs wake us up early in the morning, but Music Man got up with them and left me to sleep. Music Man took me out to breakfast at IHOP, because I’ve wanted to try the cheesecake pancakes. They were pretty disappointing, but then again, it was IHOP. If I’d wanted a better breakfast, I should’ve chosen a better place.

Late Sunday afternoon, we went to my mom’s house for a family get together. In our 32 years on this Earth, there has only been one birthday that I can remember where my brother and I didn’t get to celebrate together, so I was really happy to hear that I’d be celebrating with him, and the rest of our family, this year at our mom’s house. The weather was brutal—super humid and very hot—but we had a good time relaxing, spending time with family, watching Lil’D ride his new bike, and watching both of my nephews and my niece swim in the kid pool my mom had setup for them.

Mom made a great dinner that included various salads—the perfect meal for a sticky, hot, humid day. My sister, a baker and pastry chef, made a heavenly trifle with chocolate cake, strawberries, and pastry cream for dessert. It was so, so good! After enjoying a few hours with the family, Music Man and I headed home to relax and prepare for the week ahead.

Overall, it was an incredibly fantastic birthday weekend!

(A not great picture of my twin and I on our birthday. Please forgive the awful hair and shiny face--it was so hot and humid!)

* The dogs used to be referred to as Wiggly (Lucy, the Boston Terrier) and Bug (Dexter, the Pug), but it’s a lot easier to just tell you their names. There’s no good reason to have my dogs remain incognito in my blog; except to confuse me, and I deal with confusion often enough as it is. No sense in making things more complicated than they need to be!

While we’re at it, my “real” name is Michelle. I shortened it to Elle for this blog, because I figured there was less of a chance of certain family members recognizing me if they happened to stumble on this blog. I recently realized that: (1) the likelihood of that is slim to none and (2) there are enough details and pictures here to give it away anyway.

Music Man will remain Music Man in this blog until such time as he tells me he’s comfortable enough for me to reveal his name. As it stands, he likes the nickname I came up with for him; so much so that he uses it on Twitter.

What I write here is the truth as I see it. It’s my views and personal thoughts on my life. In the unlikely event that certain family members were to find the blog, they’d still have the choice not to read it. If they choose to snoop around, and read something they didn’t like, that’s on them. I figure I’ll cross that bridge if I ever come to it. (For those of you out there who know me in real life, I’m not saying you should go sending the link to my blog to the whole family. You all know and understand why.)

Whew! Glad to have gotten all of that out of the way, lovely reader! I hope that none of this “news” was too groundbreaking or Earth shattering!

O for Over(whelmed)

Well, yesterday was my last Geology class, dear reader. Yes; Geology is finally over!! It was a short class, which was nice, because I was home by a little after 7:30 versus a little after 9:30. We watched a video and took our final quiz. A few of us decided to wait around for the professor to correct the quizzes, but then he announced that he wouldn’t be able to do that, because his key was incorrect. He had put two questions on the quiz numbered 17, and he ended up having us cross one out, making his key incorrect.

I was surprised that we were not asked to complete a course evaluation. I have not taken a class yet where completing a course evaluation at the end of the course wasn’t required. I guess maybe they know how this professor and class will be scored, so they just let him forgo it, which is a bunch of crap if you ask me. Of all the classes I’ve taken, this one was the one I was most looking forward to evaluating. The professor’s teaching abilities were severely lacking, and the class location was ridiculous! Oh well. I guess I’ll just remember in the future not to take a class at this location ever again, if it can be helped.

While I would’ve liked to have known how I did on the quiz, I suspected that I had done about the same as on the last two quizzes. I didn’t find anything on the quiz to be too surprising and felt as though I had a pretty good grasp on the material. Really, what was most important to me was the final grade. I am super excited and pleased to report, lovely reader, that my final grade in Geology was an A!!!! I have managed yet again to maintain my 4.0! So, not only did I survive Geology, but I survived unscathed! Now I have three weeks off until the summer from hell starts.

Well, I shouldn’t say three weeks off, because that’s not entirely true. I do have to work on the Public Speaking Competency. It is my hope to have it finished up before classes start, so that all I’ll have to worry about is practicing the speech and arriving on the assigned date to give my speech and hand in my written materials. I’m confident that I’ll get it done within these next three weeks. I have to, because with the summer schedule being as hectic as it will be, I will not have time to work on it!

The good news is, once I complete this summer’s classes, I’ll be halfway through my associate’s degree! That’s awesome!!

It’s going to be a hard few weeks off and a hard summer though. People expect me to get together with them and to spend time with them now that I have free time again. It’s not that I don’t want to see or gather with friends or family, it’s just that I really need to spend my time wisely. I haven’t been feeling well lately—I’ve had massive headaches on and off and continue to suffer from extreme lack of energy. I think going off of my meds is playing a role, but I also think Minnesota’s early spring has created a helluva bad allergy season, and unfortunately all I can do is ride it out.

I hate making plans with people and then having to break them, and if I make plans too far in advance, I don’t know how I’ll be feeling when the time comes. Lately, too far in advance is only a week. For example, I had told my mom that Music Man and I would stop by this past weekend, but then I ended up not feeling well and sleeping the weekend away! We’ll see her this weekend for Mother’s Day, so I’m not too worried about it though.

We’ve been telling my stepdad that we’d like to have him and his girlfriend over for a barbecue for months now, and now that the weather’s nice enough to do it, they are starting to get a little impatient. So, Music Man and I have to sit down and figure out a gig-free weekend to have them over for a barbecue. Instead of looking at this as a burden, I need to look at is as a nice opportunity to spend time with family and to relax. I can’t help but to feel overwhelmed though.

When I know that people have these expectations of me, I get burnt out. I feel that I work so hard during the semester balancing school, work, and life, that the little free time I do get between semesters should be all mine. I should be able to nap my life away on the weekends and blog, watch TV, or knit on the weeknights if that’s how I choose to spend my time.

I get upset that people can’t just leave me alone and let me shut the world out for a moment; until I’m ready to rejoin life again. Sometimes I feel as though I’m too much of an introvert. I mean I love my family and friends to pieces and would do most anything for them, and yet I don’t want anything to do with them right now. I feel horrible just typing that!

Go ahead, lovely reader, just say it, “There are worse things in the world, Elle, than having people around who love you and want to spend time with you. STFU!” I know, I know, and you’re totally right. Still, I can’t help but to feel bitter and a little sorry for myself right now. I’m gonna wallow in my self-pity for a little bit longer and then I’ll move on.

I guess what it all boils down to is that I’m stressed out, wiped out, and overwhelmed, so I just want some time to catch my breath. But, I’ll make plans and will participate in family gatherings. I’ll try to schedule things so that at least one day of each weekend will be for downtime and/or time to work on the competency. I’ll even try to like it.

However, I will also be mindful of my time and the things I need to do. If that means only staying at a family gathering for an hour, then that will have to do. School needs to come first. I’m paying a lot of money and spending a lot of time trying to finish this degree so that I can move on to my bachelor’s, and ultimately, to a career I will find fulfilling and meaningful. Hopefully my family and friends can be supportive of my needs. If not, I guess I’ll just have to learn to be okay with being selfish.

L for Life & D for Death

“Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.”

~ John Lennon

This is one of my most favorite quotes, because it is so true. These words have been ringing in my ears this week, because life (and death) has been happening despite my plans, which has turned me into quite the busy bee.

First, the good news…

I got approval to reschedule the public speaking competency! I have to complete it on the scheduled date this summer (not sure when that is yet), unless I want to pay for it again and receive a blemish on my transcript. It’s just one more thing to add to this summer’s pile of stuff, but I should be able to get most of it done on my three weeks off in May, so it shouldn’t negatively affect my already crazy summer schedule too much. I am just relieved at this point to have more time to get it done correctly, and I am committed to making sure I work hard on it during those three weeks that I don’t have classes.

I had my annual exam with the doctor yesterday. As I sat in the room in that teeny, tiny, uncomfortable little “gown,” I wondered why it is that I got undressed so quickly. I know how doctor’s appointments work: you wait in the waiting room, you’re called back, and then you wait in the exam room for at least 15-20 minutes. So why is it that having to get undressed for an appointment compels me to play beat the clock?!

I mean, in the time I’m going to spend waiting for the doctor, I could not only get undressed, but I could also get re-dressed and probably reapply my makeup as well. Yet I tear my clothes off in a race against time that exists only in my head as though the future of the world depends on my ability to undress in thirty seconds or less. I know this every single year; yet I repeat the process.

The appointment itself went good, as it usually does. My doctor is really thorough yet efficient, so the “check under the hood” was quick and painless. She told me that, if the test results come back normal (which they should), I can move to having that exam performed only once every three years. While I don’t mind the procedure so much, it’s not my favorite thing, so this was good news to me.

I had made the decision that I wanted to get off of my anti depressant, which I’ve been taking for over two years. Life has changed so much since then, and I feel as though I’m at a good enough place to see how I function on my own. It was never my intention to take the medication for the rest of my life. My doctor had recommended it as a way to get through the incredibly stressful time right after my sister’s death; when we were planning a wedding, dealing with living in a hotel for a month as a result of a dryer fire, and dealing with the deaths of Music Man’s grandpa (a about two months after my sister) and my grandma (five months after my sister).

The doctor was really great about coming up with a conservative schedule that will slowly wean me off of the medication with hopefully little to no bumps or side effects along the way. Worst case, the tapering off won’t work, which will be my signal that the medication is still needed. Best case, I’ll have weaned completely off the medication in six weeks, and will hopefully be able to deal with my lingering seasonal depression on my own. We’ll see what happens. I have to admit that I am a little nervous.

We also talked about switching up my migraine medication since the old one doesn’t seem to work, as evidenced by my Emergency Room visit back in January. She wrote out a prescription for Imitrex, which I’m not thrilled about. I’ve heard both good and bad reviews of Imitrex, and it doesn’t seem to work for a lot of people. I know everyone’s different, so we’ll just have to see how this works for me. She wrote a backup prescription for Vicodin as a “rescue medication” if the migraine doesn’t take well to the Imitrex, because the Vicodin has proven to be a good rescue med since the Emergency Room sent me home with some back in January.

I totally forgot to ask her for a referral to an allergist, but I’m going to try a few other OTC things before I go the allergy shot route. I’ve had the shots in the past, and they were time consuming and not incredibly helpful.

Now, on to the not so good news…

Music Man’s grandmother passed away on Monday morning. She was 92 years old, so she lived a long and happy life, and we saw this coming. Music Man was able to go to the nursing home to say goodbye to her on Saturday. He’s not sure if she knew whether or not he was there (he’s choosing to go with the idea that she did), but it meant a lot to him and his mom for him to be able to see her one last time. We are having a very short family only visitation tonight, followed by a family dinner. The funeral and burial are tomorrow.

I also have a dentist appointment tonight, which I’m hoping will be done by 6 o’clock so that I can make it to the visitation on time. I could reschedule the appointment, but I’ve already rescheduled it like four times, and Music Man told me I should just go to the appointment. I’m really hoping I’ll make it to the visitation on time, because I want to be there to support my husband (even though I’m getting the impression that he doesn’t need a lot of support right now) and I don’t want to look like a schmuck to his family.

I just hate funerals so much. (Who really likes them, right?!) Ever since my sister’s funeral, I am much more sensitive to death and much more uncomfortable (and sometimes emotional) at funerals. Sometimes, I even get panic attacks. The plan is for all of the grandchildren and their spouses to be pallbearers though, so I must gather up my strength and go.

What I’m about to say is shameful, and I know it’s an awful thing to think and say out loud, but it’s how I feel…

I don’t get why people are so incredibly sad when old people die. It’s a fact of life! Music Man’s grandma lived to be 92. By today’s standards, that is a long life!! I don’t understand the carrying on that surrounds losses like these. I mean, I get that losing someone you’re close to is hard. I understand that no one likes to have to say goodbye. I know that my mother-in-law will miss her mom (and misses her dad) and that Music Man will miss his grandma (I also miss mine), but people have to die sometime, and preferably, it’s when they’re older.

Not to mention the fact that Music Man’s grandma has repeatedly said that she’s ready to go. She wanted to be reunited with her husband. She has missed him and grieved his loss every single day of the two years she’s spent without him by her side. A loyal Christian, she was ready for God to accept her into his Kingdom of Heaven. Her last weeks were spent suffering as she got increasingly more ill, and in her last days, she was purposely kept incoherent (with the help of meds) so that she could be “comfortable” while her body just shut down. We should all be at peace now, because she’s finally at peace and her suffering (both physical and emotional) is over.

Don’t get me wrong. I think we should most definitely honor old people after death by looking back on and celebrating their lives, but I guess I just can’t get too broken up over someone who’s lived a long, happy life. I am always stuck thinking about my sister, and I know that’s where a lot of these feelings come from.

She was only 19 years old when she died!! She didn't just die either; she was murdered! She left this world far too soon. Her death was unexpected, shocking, and tragic. It made sense to cry and carry on over the loss of her, because it wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. That’s not the way things should work! We had to shop for special clothing to cover the marks left from her murder. Her casket had to be positioned opposite the usual way (i.e. her head was on the right instead of the left when viewing the casket from the front), because there was bruising and smoke damage on the right side of her face that they just couldn’t cover up good enough.

We will never know what she could’ve accomplished, how her life would’ve turned out, or what person she would’ve grown into. She will not get the opportunity to finish college and work her way through a career until retirement. She didn’t have the opportunity to celebrate her 21st birthday, nor will she celebrate the other milestones—25, 30, 40, 50, etc. We didn’t get a chance to prepare ourselves for her death or to say goodbye while she was still living. We just have to hope that the impact we had on her while she was here was enough for her to know and remember how much we loved and cherished her.

That is a tragedy worth getting torn up about. The death of a 92 year old woman who, by her own admission, has lived a happy and fulfilling life? Not so much. I'm sorry. I know I sound like an awful, horrible, no good, very bad person right now.

Grandma’s funeral is tomorrow. I will fulfill my duties as a pallbearer and will support my husband as we say our final goodbyes, but I choose to celebrate her life instead of mourning her death. Based on her beliefs, she’s in a better place now. She is finally at peace, and for that, I am thankful.

P.S. Lovely reader, I am really really really far behind in replying to comments you’ve left for me and in commenting on your blogs. I wholeheartedly apologize. Know that your comments mean the world to me and that I have not forgotten about you. I’m doing my best to get caught up quickly!