Insanity. There is a common, although not the textbook, definition among my friends for the word Insanity: doing the same thing, over and over again, and expecting different results. It runs along the same lines of a person asking the same question over and over again because they don’t like the answer being provided.

Denial: the action of declaring something to be untrue.

And lastly, this from the book Alcoholics Anonymous: “Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves. There are such unfortunates. They are not at fault; they seem to have been born that way. They are naturally incapable of grasping and developing a manner of living which demands rigorous honesty.” I pray this is not the case.

I experienced a sad moment today prompting the text above. It breaks my heart when someone I care deeply about practices behavior that revokes their freedom. There is nothing I can do. No words are left to say. They would not be heard. Those words reside in the heart, and when one is ready to hear them, nothing will come between them. This is my belief.  Still my heart aches for their self-imposed suffering, for their insanity, for their denial.

I keep this vague to preserve their anonymity. I share it to provide me relief from the feelings.

There is a solution. Just ask someone for help. And be willing to receive it.

My number one character defect, I think, is that I silently judge. Everything. Everyone.

Today it was the people who were shopping with me at Costco.  Frankly, it was much like driving around the streets of my town: everyone doing their own thing, stopping in the middle of aisles, turning in front of one another without looking first, racing to be first in line… and the product sample tables add to the madness.

While trying to head toward the checkout lanes, I caught myself in a thought: If only these people would obey the ‘signals’ like I do, we’d all have a more pleasant shopping experience. Self-centered thinking. “If you all behaved more like me, you’d be better off and I’d be happier.”

I heard in a 12 Step meeting Monday evening, “We teach what we most need to learn.” The person who shared that followed it with, “When I first heard that, I had NO idea what it meant. I do now.” And today, I better understand it, too. I judge overweight people in line at the fast food joints, I judge those who enhance their looks rather than being themselves, I judge smokers, I judge gossipers, I judge…  And if I looked in the mirror, I’d have to ask myself: “What makes you think you are better than?”

During another meeting last week someone shared that to help them combat that mental litany of judgment they remind themselves that they don’t have all the facts – only their perception of the situation – and they don’t walk in the shoes (or the heads) of those they mentally tear apart.

Of course, I wonder to myself “Why?”  Why do I pick apart those other people to begin with?  Because I am afraid – that I don’t measure up.  Sometimes – more often than not – I feel ‘outside of’ and I feel ‘awkward’ and I use to find other ways to feel different.  Now I mentally tear others down, in my head. And, sometimes, out loud.  Rarely, but I did it just last week.  Knowing that I would feel like I gained acceptance by doing it (though not actually sure of that). And today I’m thinking that it was a childish act. And I don’t want to be that kind of person today.

Awareness is the first step.  Contrary action is the next step. Trusting my Higher Power is the constant step.  Today I am grateful for the awareness and the insight I receive through others.  That’s all for now.

The photograph is of the reflecting pond at Cape Fear Botanical Gardens in North Carolina.

…how I picked my major?

My current, and I believe it to be my final, college major was selected by the universe by way of my deciding to quit the notion of ever having a degree from a college.

One day, after my business class – and probably during premenstrual weakness – I decided that attempting a degree in Business was a waste of my time because, well, I did not plan to ever return to the working world – not the conventional one anyway.  My big plan in that moment was to finish the semester, find a job at Disneyland and live out the rest of my days working part-time for the Mouse (thus, returning to the working world).  I wanted to spread joy and help people while having permanent access to the Magic Kingdom.

I went on-line, search Disney employment, and scrolled through the current job listings: Guest Research Specialist (the survey person you avoid at the end of your day in the Park), Reservation Sales Agent (cheerful providing your dream vacation, or a seat at the Blue Bayou), Project Manager – Costuming Systems… positions like those. Meh.

And then I saw it: Procedures Writer.

If you knew me, you’d know that I am very skilled in putting together procedures manuals – simple and complex – to help others walk through new programs and systems.  I’ve been doing it for years as a minor role of every position I’ve ever held.  I thought, “That’s a job I can do.” Then I reviewed the requirements. I thought, “I could do this!” However, under the Education heading, Disney requires a Bachelors’ Degree in Technical Writing, English or Communications for this position.

I experienced a moment of clarity that I have experienced rarely in my lifetime.  The world slowed to a stop, the clouds parted, a beam of light shone down from the heavens…

Well, those things didn’t actually occur in reality, but they did occur in my heart.  Suddenly, I KNEW that being an English major was the direction I probably should have headed all along. And now it was time.

I went to my community college website, I pulled up the class requirements to obtain the AA portion of my new direction, and I wrote down all the classes I still needed to complete this portion of my education.

I have to tell you, I’m pretty excited about it.  I enrolled in Creative Writing, Introduction to Mass Communication, and Geography for the Spring semester.  I know that I can use this degree and the experience from it for so many different avenues in my future.

And Disney? Disney will just have to get along without me for a little while longer.

375 days since the last post? I find that hard to believe. Then I think back over the last year: my mother died, I quit the J-O-B, I got married. Those are some of the highlights. I guess a year could have passed while I was busy living life. 

Since no one reads these it’s not like I was missed. I post when something significant occurs – something that changes a core value, or returns a core value to its original setting. 

Today I was clearing Apps from my phone. I removed FaceBook last week, following the ISIS attack on Paris. I spend more time on relevant things now – staying in my present, focusing on the relationships in my life instead of the lives of acquaintances, and various celebrities. 

Today I advised my son while he opened an unemployment claim, I socialized with family and friends during breakfast, and now I’m at the veterinarian’s office, making sure my feline is in good health. 

I am grateful for the life I get to live today. I am blessed with many gifts: a warm bed, a vehicle that runs well, a loving family, my health, the ability to take my furry friend to the vet — the list goes on and on. 

That’s my story today. A busy, blessed life. 

Each person who chooses suffering, and lives it, embraces it for as long as they think they deserve to. Why? Between suffering and joy, I’d think joy would win out. But I also remember a time when I didn’t know I had a choice. I did not wish to suffer (so I thought) but I believed it was my lot, that I did not deserve any better. And so I embraced it. Someone told me once, long ago, when I was a teenager: “Pain is inevitable. Suffering, optional.” I’m glad they did, even though I didn’t understand it for many years. Because the seed was planted, waiting, laying dormant until the right combination of ‘nutrients’ were introduced. I think THAT occurred when one evening a man I’d just met told me that I had a choice. And later, that life offers many options and ours is to choose how we proceed. Today my options are many and today I choose joy.

Everything happens for a reason – I believe that.  I also believe that I do not get to know what that reason is.  If I am allowed a glimpse of the Master Plan, it is usually in hindsight.  I sometimes get to look back and suddenly the WHY is crystal clear or, at least, I have a better understanding.

Last night during a 12 Step meeting, I got to look back.

Someone shared about something that reminded me of the text I got from my brother stating – MISstating – that she only had 12 – 36 hours left.  I left work, called my boyfriend, met him at my home where I packed some clothes. He drove me to my mother’s in Los Angeles.  I did this all in a detached from myself manner.

And I spent the next 28 days in my mother’s home in Culver City, being of service, and being kept out of my head.

If I’d remain living in my home, driving back and forth during that final 28 days of her life, I may well have had an opportunity to find out just how much I relied on the program of recovery.  Instead, I was ‘sequestered’ in my mother’s house, where I did what needed to be done for her comfort and care, stayed mostly out of my head, and found a much closer connection to my Higher Power.

During this past week, although I have had new challenges to face, my brain has left ‘survivor’ mode and returned to the high velocity mode it is accustomed to. And circumstances provided me the opportunity to see how being called to my mother’s side 28 days early put me right where I needed to be, to be reminded of my faith in my Higher Power, to be of service to my mother showing her love, compassion, kindness and forgiveness, and to be supportive of my brother as he walked beside me down that path.

Left to my own devices, in my own head, wallowing perhaps in my impending loss, I may have decided that I just wasn’t up to the challenge and I may have decided ‘checking out’ was a better plan.  I am grateful that God – my Higher Power – chose to put me where I needed to be to keep me out of harm’s way, did for me what I could not (maybe would not have) do for myself.

I never know what’s in store. I do know that if I complete the next indicated step, all will be well. It always is. That’s my experience, anyway.
(Written October 30, 2014 – edited November 10, 2014)

…Yeah – I do.  I did, when I was 14, when I was 15. I wrote stories – fiction – about the amazing person I would be when I grew up.  I filled spiral notebooks with my fantasies of being a police detective (like Starsky and Hutch) or a Secret Service Agent (think Wild, Wild West). I used both sides of the paper, wrote in pen, and poured out my ideas, my thoughts, my aspirations, my perfect mate, and my brand of justice on those pages.

I’ve written things since then – I’ve penned a family newsletter when my children were small, I’ve written poetry when my heart was breaking or my soul was in darkness, I’ve submitted thoughtful articles to recovery newsletters and I’ve sent the occasional insightful email to a friend.

It is difficult to find time to write – to really dig deep and pull up the authentic from one’s depths. I’ve been an avid reader all my life and when I think about what I want to write today, reality comes to mind.  My life, the experiences I’ve had and grown from, and my ideas for the future, my future.  I lived a life of fiction and writing about it is not as appealing as it once was.

I recently discovered some stories my mother had written – drafts, all – and they are good. Interesting, anyway.

I recall listening to Stephen King’s audiobook – On Writing – and his advice: “If you want to write, then write. Everyday, all the time, whenever you can. Don’t talk about it or dream about it. If you want to write, do it.” (I paraphrase, of course).

I want to write. And this is the beginning. Of me, writing.  Prepare to be amazed.

So I have this property in Arizona that my Uncle purchased for me and my father (picture a man, sitting in an easy chair, late at night – LATE at night – channel surfing, when an infomercial catches his eye: “buy property and leave something for your loved ones” – and he does)
I received the annual property tax statement and notice that my former name is still on the title/tax statement. I write a check, I copy my court documents and I send it off. Then I think maybe I should ask if I did this correctly:
I call the Apache County Treasurer today to ask how to update their records to reflect my name change. The operator answers, listens to my need and transfers my call to the Assessors Office (#1).
I explain what I need to do, and that I sent my documents along with my payment, and he says, “You need to record this change with the County Recorder. Let me transfer you.” (#2)
The County Recorder is a lovely woman who tells me (once I explain what I need to do, AND , and that I sent my documents along with my payment) that I can change my name on the property tax document with the Assessor’s office – for tax purposes – OR I can contact the title company to officially change my name on the DEED in the event that I want to sell this property, or will it to someone. I say, “let’s start with tax purposes,” and she transfers me BACK to the Assessor’s office. (#3)
I repeat what the County Recorder told me to the Assessor guy. He tells me I need to record my name change with the County Recorder and they will send the update to the Assessor’s office. I sigh. I smile. He transfers me BACK to the County Recorder’s office. (#4)
I repeat what the Assessor guy told me. The County Recorder listens, she sighs, and she says, “Let me transfer you to the County Treasurer’s office.” (#5)
I explain all this again, including that I’ve mailed my court documents. She listens, she puts me on hold so she can contact the County Recorder for clarification. When she returns to the line she tells me I need to send in the court documents, which she will use to update the record, and then send the documents to the County Recorder’s office for recording, and then the County Recorder will send the document to the Assessor’s office. I say – I sent the court documents with the tax payment. She says, “Then I’ll see them first.” And we’re done.
Sigh. Smile. All is right with the world. Until next year, when I get this property tax statement again.

Skunk at the library

Today I was notified that there was a visitor at the library.  Accustomed as I am to indigent residents sleeping in various locations around our building, I expected to see a homeless individual sleeping in a newly discovered ‘off the beaten path’ rest area.  Imagine my surprise when I looked through a tinted window and spotted a lovely black and white animal grooming itself.  This is not a new occurrence, and having a lively little bundle of fur with the potential to make anyone who encounters it unapproachable for days or weeks creates its own unique set of problems.  I have contacted Animal Control, the Parks, Trees and Landscape department, and I am awaiting a return call from Right Way Animal Control and Removal.  These animals are typically relocated 10 miles from the discovery location, and only a licensed relocation expert can take on this task.  I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Yesterday my daughter gave birth to my fifth grandchild, Clementine Joule. The baby girl was born at 6:30 p.m. and weighed 5 lbs., 6 ozs. Her parents are tired and happy. Her big sister say the baby and said, “I love her. I want to touch her.” and gently patter her little sister on the head. It would be wonderful if I lived closer, but I don’t I will be visiting them at the end of August. I am looking forward to it.