What do YouTube, Lady Mcreepsta, and Amy have in common?

Hi.

It's been far too long.

One of those times where, quite frankly, I didn't have anything I felt was worthy of writing about. Lots of ups and downs. Lots of sadness. Lots of stress and busyness. No one really wants to hear about all of that.

I'll just leave you with something interesting which happened recently.

I was contacted via email by a YouTuber called Lady Mcreepsta who asked if she could narrate my story "Amy" for her site. Totally flattered and surprised, I said yes. I mean, why wouldn't I, right?

So, here is my story "Amy", narrated by Lady Mcreepsta, on YouTube.

Have fun!

TTFN
JMS

What is "NORMAL" anyway?

You know, sometimes I have to sit back and remind myself I can't let life just HAPPEN to me. That I need to TAKE CHARGE! GRAB THAT BULL BY THE HORNS! GET STUFF DONE! GO! GO! GO! NEVER STOP! It's freakin' exhausting.

But then life throws you a curve ball and NORMAL gets tossed right out the window.

Life threw our little family a curve ball last week as we said our final farewell to my sweet Mother-in-Law. She was one of the best people I've ever known and she will be missed. She accepted me right from the start and I loved her.

Hubby is so very sad. He said, "If everyone would stop asking me how I'm doing I'd probably be OK!" But it's not just that. So many thoughts. So many memories. And there's absolutely NOTHING I can do. Nothing I can say. Nothing that will help. And I feel so very, very helpless.

I can't grab the horns. I can't get stuff done. I can't go.

I have to stop. Reflect. Be solid and stable and THERE.

So, what is NORMAL? Normal is making sure he knows I'm here for him, no matter what. Remembering not to ask him how he's doing, but instead, asking what he needs or how I can help. Normal is letting him know I've got things under control at home if he needs to be with his sisters to grieve or do whatever needs to be done on their end. Normal is giving him time and space when he wants it. Or, smothering him with hugs and love when he needs it.

I can't FIX this.

The kids are sad, too. It's hard for them. They have so many good memories of their Nani. I asked girl-child about her best memories last night. She said she had two which stood out: The time she and boy-child were helping their Nani wash dishes in her little kitchen in Big Stone Gap, VA and they argued over who got to use the chef scrub brush. And the time they helped Nani make her special chocolate bundt cake for their daddy's birthday and covered the entire thing with thin candles - all over - and they called it the Spaceship Cake. And also many, many animal memories. Nani had lots of animals.

They have their memories, for which I am profoundly grateful.

I have to let my little family grieve in their own ways. And I'm grieving, too. I couldn't have searched the world over and found a better Mother-in-Law. I definitely lucked into a wonderful extended family.

So right now, our NORMAL is grief. Our NORMAL is trying to do the day-to-day. It's fresh and new and hard right now. But we WILL move forward.

And it will never be exactly the same again.

TTFN
JMS

OBIT: http://www.johnsoncitypress.com/Obituary/2017/10/16/Ellen-Ginger-Nave-Shell

How are you?

I hurt today.

Aside from an extremely stiff neck and aching shoulders, I've got this deep ache inside my chest. (No, it's not a heart attack.) You know that place just above where your sternum ends? There. Deep. Like something oily and heavy and dark has lodged itself in that spot. (No, Supernatural fans; I'm not possessed, either.) It's a multifaceted ache. Sadness. Stress. Pain. Exhaustion. Anger. Frustration.

I've often wondered why it is we get angriest with those whom we love the most? Why it is that they can hurt us more than anyone else we know? Why we will work our hardest to make them happy and do what we can for them - with little to no acknowledgement of the sacrifices we make for them - and yet, we continue? Death by 1000 cuts. Little, tiny hurts over an extended period of time can result in the same "death" as outright murder. Why? Why do we continue to do unto others even when they won't do the same unto you?

Because it's the right thing, that's why. No matter the hurt. No matter the sacrifice. Those we love, naturally, can hurt us the most because we love them the most. They're thoughts and opinions and deeds - misdeeds? non-deeds? - can injure us far more than anyone else's.

But when asked, "How are you?" your automatic response is, "Fine! How are you?" Deflection. I'm great, but let's talk about you now.

Wanting to have the energy - physical, emotional, and mental - to do all the things which need to be done, with a smile on my face, isn't too much to ask, is it?

TTFN
JMS

Pouring my heart out -OR- Feeling sorry for myself

I'm trying to get back into the swing of things…like actually writing occasionally, even though I really don't want to because the words don’t come like they used to.

It used to be that I could be doing something normal and mundane and a sentence or a thought or a snippet of a story would pop into my head and I would turn it over and over until I finally got someplace where I could write it down so I wouldn't forget it.  Now, those sentences, thoughts, and snippets are quiet.

I'm OK with it, really, though I do miss the creativity.

I'm kinda broken right now and I don't know how to fix myself.  Oh, yeah – outwardly no one would really know anything is wrong, but my family does.  My husband feels it.  My kids feel it.  So I try - I really do try - but I fail.  A lot.  I try to be OK for them, but how can I be OK for them when I’m not OK for me?

So I push forward one day at a time.  One restless, more-often-than-not sleepless, night at a time.  And I get up the next day when my alarm goes off, because, let's face it…if I don't, I'm not getting up at all.  So the alarm starts yelling at me and I get up, I shower, I brush my teeth and dry my hair and make sure I’m wearing clean clothes.  And I go to work and get through my day with as much professionalism as I can muster and even that is hard, though I love my job.

I love my family.

And there are so many things that I need that I'm not getting.  And it's hard to know I'm responsible for teaching these lessons which once taught, need to be retaught and retaught and retaught until I'm so frustrated I could scream.  What am I doing wrong?

And, I don't know how to get a certain person to understand that lying and manipulation are not the ways to get what you want and that no means no, it doesn’t mean argue about it until I'm so worn out I finally just don't care anymore or remember the reason I said no in the first place and now they feel like they’ve won and I've taught them no lesson at all.

And, I don't know how to get a certain other person to understand that laziness doesn’t mean eventually I will do it because I'm sick of looking at it.  It means that if I do it, you’re going to lose it permanently and then you're really going to be unhappy. 

Or, if I take the time to do your laundry and you dump what I've carefully washed, dried, folded, and left on your bed for you to put away in an unfolded heap on top of your dresser or shoved into drawers in a wrinkled mess and then you say to me, "I didn't know!" or "At least they're in the drawer," and then you get mad at me when I hold your clothes hostage and tell you that you can have one outfit back for every ten minutes you work in your room (because to me, that's clever and a great way to teach a lesson) and you call me and my methods stupid and unfair and are hateful to me and cry thinking it's going to change my mind.  How about I just don't ever do your laundry for you?  I'm not above making you go to school naked.  (Ok, not that last thing…)

And, I don't know how to get a certain other person to understand I need them to actually talk to me, tell me what's going on and give me a game plan so I don't feel like I'm flying blind all the time and then have them get mad at me when I am unable to read their mind.  Or, how about just helping around the house on a regular basis instead of watching television all day?  That would be awesome, too.

I'm feeling used and angry and kind of like wrung out wet socks…

So, I guess the words do come, but they're not particularly nice words right now. 

And yeah, I guess if you want to you can pray for me or light a candle for me or send a healing word or two out into the ether for me – and that's all wonderful, and I am grateful for them – but I need real help.  The kind of help words just don't cover.

Am I feeling sorry for myself?  Maybe a little bit.  Am I walking around with a chip on my shoulder feeling resentful and angry more often than not?  Absolutely.  Am I taking it out on those around me because I don't feel like anyone cares enough to ask me what's wrong and then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT when I tell them what's bothering me?  Most likely.  

I know.  I suck right now.  And I'm sorry.

TTFN

JMS

Crying over Turkeys

I guess I should probably write something.  I feel not only like I've been neglecting my poor blog, but also my poor readers - should there still be any.  This time of year, as I'm sure everyone knows, is not only hectic, but frustrating, stressful, and - for many - sad.  Yes, I said sad.

Today would have been my mother's birthday.  Mary Pamela Nolton Greening.  Born on December 15, 1947.  She would have been 68 years old.  (I think I've got all that right.)  I've written about her before on this blog whenever an anniversary comes up - either date of her birth or date of her death - so for those who may have been following me for some time this won't be new information.

Yesterday, I was weepy all day long.  Anything could have set me off.  Even turkeys.  Walking back from the cafeteria to my office I saw some turkeys wandering around in front of my building and, as I got closer I thought, "Those birds are actually kinda beautiful up close," and then proceeded to get all teary-eyed for no reason I could discern.  I did this multiple times (wound up with dripping eyes for no reason) and finally decided I was just annoying myself and went to bed.  I guess it doesn't help that I don't feel 100% right now, either.  I'm sure it's just a cold, but in my "weakened" state, I feel vulnerable...therefore, weepy.  I'll get over it.

It didn't really occur to me until this morning that I must have been subconsciously remembering mom's birthday.  So, though it's been 26 years since she left us for the big playground in the sky, I still get sad.  And, among the discussions of Christmas and trees and decorations and gifts and (as I said before) the me, me, me, mine, mine, mine brand of selfishness this time of year engenders, I think of my mother today and remember the brief 15 years I had with her.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

TTFN
JMS

Sadness

I received the following email from my hubby:

Subject: "Sadness"

There is much sadness and wailing at the house.

Your phone.

You forgot it.

This is how abandonment issues begin.

 I am delightfully amused.

TTFN
JMS

Raw

I suppose I should begin this post with another disclaimer to let you know this is soul-bearing, raw, and completely honest.  It's somewhat cathartic, although I know it really won't fix anything.  And I know this is a side of things some people will say shouldn't be shown to the public, but...

I sat on the floor in the bathroom last night at 11 o’clock and leaned against the bathroom sink and just cried.  Sobbed, really.  I think I need a break.  A real one.  One where I'm not worrying about my kids and if they're okay or what they’re thinking, doing, saying, eating, if they’re warm and comfortable or need me.  One where I’m not worrying about cleaning my house or figuring out what to put into a yard sale or about keeping up appearances or saying the right thing.  One where I can have the squishy floor in the bathroom fixed without breaking a sweat over finances.  One where I don’t have to worry about money or how I’m going to put gas in my car so I can get to work or where I don’t have to scrounge around for something to take for my own lunch so the kids can have a decent lunch at school.  One where I wish I could be truly selfish, just for once.  One where I don't have to worry about getting up if I'd rather sleep until noon.  One where no friends are dying and where people aren't saying or doing hurtful things.  One where if I ask someone to do something they'll do it, with no questions asked and I won't have to repeat myself.  One where when I say something, it will actually be heard and no one will later say, “You never told me that!”

I guess I'm just tired in my body and in my soul.

I wish I didn't have to be ON all the time.  That I didn't have to force myself not to cry at work when my "upset" has nothing to do with work.

I don't think the tears are done yet.

Bear with me.

TTFN

JMS

A light that burned too brightly, snuffed out too early

On April 23, 2015, I lost one of my dearest friends, Nikki.  The world lost a wonderful person and Heaven gained an angel.  If you follow my blog at all, you know that I typically don’t name names here – or I try not to – because I don’t want my ranting and raving and rambling to affect someone else and my opinions are my own.  That being said, my friend is now gone, and I am devastated.  Selfishly devastated for my own loss of a treasured friend, yes, but even more so, I am devastated for those she left behind: her loving husband and their three beautiful little children (ages 9, 6 and 2); her mother, who lived with them and their entire family.  To say that this is tragic would be an understatement.

As anyone who has dealt with loss and grief knows, there are many things that run through your head at once.  Disbelief coupled with hurt and overwhelming pain.  Unthinkable.  Unimaginable.  Indescribable.   The entire thing only serves to leave giant, gaping holes in those left behind. 

Nikki’s light burned so brightly.  She quite literally vibrated with energy.  I don’t think I ever saw her truly still.  She was a fabulous mother, a wonderful friend, and a beautiful, beautiful person inside and out.  I’m going to miss her terribly.  But more than that, now that I’ve had a very teeny tiny amount of time to think things through (sorry about the alliteration) is this overwhelming GUILT that I feel.  And I think – I know – it’s because I feel like I was a terrible friend.  I also know she would give me that patented Nikki look and tell me I was crazy and to get over it.  Then she’d probably roll her eyes or smack me (literally, but lovingly) upside the head.  I can’t help but think of all the times I forgot something important or wasn’t able to take her calls when she phoned, or couldn’t make it out to her house for a visit after they moved away from town.  I hope she does know I loved her; love her still.

And aside from this inconceivable loss, there are several other issues that are plaguing me on a personal level.  My own mother died when I was quite young.  Not as young as Nikki’s kids (I was 15, my brother was 11 and our sister was 7), but still, I know what it is to lose your mother.  I need to say here that I am in no way attributing Nikki’s loss to the loss of my own mother, but there are a lot of similarities here that must not go unnoticed.  My mother died and left behind an oldest girl, a middle boy and a youngest girl.  Nikki left the same.  And I’m wondering, now, in my own small way, if I was not meant to go through the loss of my mother, and all that meant for me growing up, in order to be here for Nikki’s sweet babies; to at least give them someone to talk to when and if they need it.  And believe me, if I had had someone I felt comfortable enough to talk to about all the (pardon me) crap that went on in my life after I lost my mother, I would have been a lot better off for it.

I’ve known each one of those kiddos since they were born.  The oldest (9) used to fall asleep in my arms at church every Sunday.  All three of them know me as Aunt Jennifer.  At one time or another, they’ve each been hugged by me, kissed by me, loved on by me, disciplined by me, taught by me, bathed, dressed and tucked in by me.  I’m not a stranger to them.  And as Nikki’s friend (and as Kevin’s friend) I hope that I will be allowed to continue to be Aunt Jennifer and to be there when they need a momma-figure. 

And that is something else, too.  In no way do I expect to take the place of Nikki.  No one else can be “momma” to those babies.  But Kevin is lucky that he’s got a TON of strong women to help him with the “momma” stuff if and when he needs it. 

I know I’m all over the place with this post, and I’m sorry.  I’ve had a few days to think about it and still don’t really know what I think.  I’m numb.  And if I’M numb, I can’t even imagine how Kevin feels.  Everyone is going to tell him that his kiddos are his first priority now, but really that’s not true.  He is his own first priority, because if he doesn’t take care of himself, he won’t be able to take care of his kids.  He’s got an amazing support system.  He’s got a community full of people who love him.  He’s got so many things to be thankful for.  But he doesn’t have his Nikki.  And I cannot even imagine that loss.  Losing a parent, while devastating, is not the same as losing a spouse.

So, however you worship, say a prayer for Kevin and the kiddos.  They’re going to need every ounce of support they can get.

TTFN
JMS