Homeward Bound

Where is home?

Is it the house next door where I lived for fifteen years?  My first home of memory in West Orange, on that tree lined street, next door to the mayor?  Or is it where I have lived for the past five years.  I often try to think where I "feel" home may be in the future.

In a few months, when the house is finally sold and the rooms are empty, I will walk through and say goodbye. Then I will always wonder where my "home" will be.

 But since Kate died, I'm not sure where I belong once this place is sold.

At times I long for a  husband who would tell say, "Honey, my job is moving and so are we blah blah blah." Then my choice would be made.  I would know my place in this world, country, state, town...universe?  Or I think, hopefully I will get accepted to certain MFA programs which will dictate  where I end up.

There is no comfort in uncertainty.  But, hell I haven't felt comfortable in a few years at least.  It has been dread, then stress after stress.  Uncertainty.  And I suppose that NOTHING is certain.

IN the folly of my youth, I believe that I would meet a guy, get married, pop out some kids, you know do all those things that I was brainwashed into believing gave my life value.  I thought that I would have my own home by now, that home was defined by a person.  You know that thing, Home=where your heart is.

Well, I'm learning where my true home is and it's not quite what I thought.

 I never remember being told about women who chose to have a career.  Those women who were single and supported themselves seemed to be looked at with a wry sense of pity.  This is a religious thing, no doubt.  How many times did I hear preaching about the "place of women" in the world.  I watched my own mother try to be a good wife, homemaker as suited a good woman of the Lord.  I watched it and swore that would NEVER be my life.

My Mom and I used to have long discussions when I was in high school about women choosing to be SAHM versus using their college degree and working.  I think she thought I didn't value what she had done to raise me, this is the same woman who when I said I wanted to go to college and I wanted to have four kids, told me I was too selfish to ever have more than two children.

But, I always felt that being tied down that way was akin to a prison sentence.  I never could do it.  My Mom went back to work when I was in seventh grade.  She later told me that she wished that she had gone back to work earlier.

Now, here's the thing choosing like my Mom did is perfectly fine.  But so is NOT choosing that.  I told a friend the other day, have men ever wondered if they could be a father AND have a career??  I doubt it.  They just assume that they can do both.

The church I was raised in did not allow women to pray in public.  I never understood that.  I consider my religious upbringing to be akin to those raised in a cultish atmosphere.  Rarely was I allowed to have friends outside of the church circle.  My family didn't have friends outside of the church circle, why would I?  And when I say "My family" I really mean my Mom, brother and sister because my Father checked out of that church by the time I was eleven.

He was considered to be a "non-believer" or "apostate" because he chose not to attend those services.  And because of this, I was an outsider.  Oh, there were several outsiders in my group.  I used to strive for a time to be like everyone else, but eventually I accepted my role as a non-functioning part in that strange organism.

 I was instructed in the way of absolutes.  God is real, powerful, omniscient.  The Bible is His Word, the Roman Catholic church is the whore of Babylon, God  chooses who will go to Heaven, woman should remain silent and wear long skirts, children need to be spanked often, in order to build their character...it was a Neo-Puritan upbringing.

There seemed to be a pervading understanding that the things we believed elevated us religiously, we had the truth unlike some of those other less doctrinally sound apostate churches.  I've been bellowed at, cajoled, manipulated and made to feel terrible from preachers of The Word of God.  The odd thing is I'm like a person with Stockholm Syndrome.  I still feel at home amongst some of the those teachings and I believe that there are good people still attending that church.  But would I ever go back?  No.  I don't want to be like Proverbs dog and return to vomit.  So, I choose to follow my own path.  I choose to go with my heart into the uncertainty of belief, the mystery that is faith.

Now, just as there are many oppressive beliefs in this world, there are many empty beliefs.  Where does this uncertainty thing come into play?  I mean have you ever been 100% positive about anything?

I haven't.  So, I have turned this discomfort into a game of sorts.  I keep holding on like a card shark, I'm playing the person not the hand I'm dealt.  I'm psyching out myself to keep going.  And I may never hit a point of peace, or pure bliss.  And I'm OKAY with that.

I long for happiness, but know that happiness like it's friend sadness is only a feeling and a feeling doesn't last. And someday all my words and thoughts will be gone into the ether of the otherworld.

Hah, I'd planned to write about relationships.

Note to everyone...do not give single people advice such as: Why don't you try online dating?  or If you just enjoy life you will meet someone or It always happens when you least expect it.

No, no and NO.    Here comes that uncertainty again.  I don't know if I will always be "single".  Heck most of those married people won't always be married.  Some will be divorced and then single again, then possibly re-married.   I guess I'm just tired of others beliefs internally dictating my life.

 All my past relationships have ended by my own hand, well except maybe one.

That's right. Men, you think that you choose us women?  Nope, here's a clue: we women make the choice every time.  We choose not to be with you or to be with you.  Some women don't realize that they are the choice makers. Some just self-sabotage things,  I have done this.  I have also consciously chosen to end things.

A friend told me once that he knew that his girlfriend was the one, he was ready to buy a ring...then she broke up with him.
And I said,"You knew, but she knew too and it didn't happen, so you can never REALLY know."  How can you NOT have even a little lingering of doubts?

  Because, damnit I have doubts about the things I throw into my grocery cart!!
  Shouldn't you have just a small bit of uncertainty in a relationship?  If not only to keep it moving and thriving?  People think I am a massive failure at romance, hell, I think it too sometimes.

I just cannot seem to find a balance between being too needy and not wanting anyone around me at all.  Try living with THAT schizo type of personality.  The thing is I've dated a few guys who I know I could have taken things to another level, maybe even married them, but each time I knew in the back of my mind that maybe there was something better.

Okay, better isn't the right word.

I knew I wasn't ready to give up my own desires and ambitions, not that I've accomplished what I want yet.

I know when I'm dating someone if it is going to work out long-term or not.  But how much uncertainty is too much?

 I just haven't met someone who can be there and give me space when I need it.  Those things don't seem to be that difficult right?    And the thing is the last guy in my life just had too many red flags for me to compromise, but I tried.  I really tried.

Which brings me to an interesting point, I've been told that I'm afraid of commitment.  This is not true.  I'm just afraid of what comes after that commitment.

And that is why I'm not married, it is my own choosing. I'm no-less suitable than any other woman.  I know so many other women who like me have questioned their own desirability, attractiveness, etc.  But I'm throwing it out there ladies, if you aren't in a relationship or married or dating, guess what...it isn't because men are bad or terrible.  It is because you've chosen not to be. I'm learning to change the way I think.

I used to beat myself up all the time thinking that I had some type of intrinsic flaw keeping me from happiness(because God-forbid that you can be alone and be happy!)  How many lonely coupled folks have I met?  Far too many.

   I don't believe that there is one "soul mate" out there or perfect person or anything like that.

 I still believe in love. I'm just not sure what that means, yet.



SO I continue in my own uncertainty...

Sunday Snoozin' Musin'

Aaah Sunday....yes it's gorgeous out there, and here I am inside with my third cup of coffee(small cup of course) because alas tis that season of Ragweed poisoning that hits me EVERY year.  No matter what I take(Claritin-D, Allegra-D, Zyrtec the other stuff with the D) my allergies are terrible!  I'm talking eyes glued shut, sore throat, earache terrible. But enough about that boring shit.

Friday night my nephew Crosby spent the night.  This was his first night away from his Mom(my sister) ever.  He is only one.  After she left he alternated between an angry cry and quiet little sobs that broke my heart for the first hour.  He wore himself out.  But then he must have realized that I was taking good care of him because he perked up.

At one point though, all I could think was I can never be a Mom.  This thought hit me while be unable to comfort him, and then again while he was kicking me in my sleep.   My friends kids showed up at 6 AM, while Crosby was still sleeping.  So I whipped up some pancakes(3 different kinds), let them watch some cartoon and I tried to snooze for about an hour before Crosby woke up.
We went to a super nice playground that was full of eager kids in soccer uniforms, tired looking Moms, casual-Saturday Dads and me.  I had more kids with me then most of the parents there!

I watched these parents talking to each other, I kept quiet because  I just can't banter about school, soccer practice, etc.  My life is so vastly different then these people.  And some of the parents just sat back watching kids play.  I was climbing on stuff, going down slides,(there were a few others doing the same) spinning kids on tires, pushing swings.

The kids wanted McDonald's for lunch<insert unhealthy gasp here> so they got their happy meals and were happy.  I came home and began my Saturday cleaning regime. Vacuuming, mopping, swishing the toilet bowl with chemicals....

SO how many of you are wondering what my point is in this post right???  Well here it comes.

I just want to say that for all those single Moms/Dads out there who are raising kids.

 I congratulate you to no end.

You've got a tough job.  You are my heroes.  I include in this any parent who has a spouse that is in the military and currently deployed.

See, I keep an eye on what parents post on Facebook, etc.  I see a lot of two parent, stay-at-home Mom's complaints and look, I get it.  Raising kids is difficult, but I think a lot of women don't get what other women have to face.  I think that being a SAHM is a luxury...and it's a luxury that not everyone can afford.

As women, we live in an advantaged society, never before in history have we had so much opportunity and technological advances.  Technological advances being: Electric washers and dryers, microwaves, running water, ovens etc.  So here is my point to Mom's across the board(as a non-mother), you've all got a tough job, caring for kids, cleaning, cooking, educating.

 But especially to those single-Mom's, you guys are superb.  I know many single parents work, their kids are in daycare or go to babysitters and maybe they feel guilty.  Here's what I think, you're feeding your kids, putting a roof over their head and teaching them so many things by having a career/job outside the home.  

Now if only our country could provide more value to bearing and raising children, like longer maternity leave, affordable childcare, longer school days, better education all around....living wages, healthcare, you know like almost all those other countries that truly value families, and don't just pretend like the USA.
But that is a whole other topic for another day.

Reasons To Keep It Real

I know that I've written about a bunch of personal topics on her over the past few months, but I've never really felt comfortable speaking about my own health.

I am not sure why.

Since Robin William's death, I've seen a ton of posts about depression.  As a sufferer of depression I find these posts both annoying and sort of informative.  Annoying because I hate to think that depression is the new disease fad, and informative to know that so many others suffer from it.

Now, there are all different types of depression.  Clinical depression, situational depression...low-grade depression...

I've been wondering is there EVER a good reason to kill yourself?

  Here is where I'm going to get personal.

When I was nineteen, I was first diagnosed with an auto-immune disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, I was also diagnosed with something called Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome.  These two tend to go hand in hand, and I won't get into the causes of them but I will say that folks may take a quick glance and think, "She's fat/overweight/chubby...etc".  Now for most of the population, extra weight is accumulated through poor eating habits and a sedentary lifestyle.  But for me, while some of my extra pounds may come through an ice cream now and again, my body seems to be programmed to hold onto fat.

Let me shed some light on Hashimoto's.  The body is a complex system of hormones.  My body decided that my thyroid doesn't belong so it started producing something called anti-thyro-globulins which attack my thyroid.  Now, the treatment for this disease when I was first diagnosed was, just wait until you fall into subclinical hypothyroid state.  My TS levels have always been right around the low normal levels.  But the problem here is, when your body is constantly attacking itself there are all other symptoms that develop.  And it is a roller coaster disease, where sometimes my body over-produces the hormones needed in order to get my thyroid to work.  Then it underproduces the same hormones to give my thyroid a break.  So I vacillate between heart palpitations, over heating to exhaustion and freezing.

And sometimes, just sometimes I feel OKAY.

Right now I'm in an under active state.  I'm achy, my hair is falling out, I'm tired all the time...it goes on and on.  And you would think I could just take a pill or something and God, I wish that it were that easy but it's not.

Another symptom?  DEPRESSION.

And here's the thing telling a depressed person to "snap out of it" or other trite terms is just the worst thing ever.  SO, I've been thinking about Robin Williams offing himself.  How does someone who has such accolades, money, fame, family make that decision?

Over the past year I have felt many different emotions
Grief, , uncertainty of my future, worry if I will ever have a long-lasting relationship, worry if I will be able to have a child, stress over careers, fear about lack of money, sadness...

I have lost two parents in the span of eight months.  One to cancer, one to prison.

My life is not full of successes, money, awards...hell I can't even seem to find a healthy functional man. And I'm pushing thirty-five, seeing my friends all move on with their lives...weddings, having babies, moving, buying homes, taking vacations...and I am here.  Stuck in a dead woman's house, trying to get it ready so someone(anyone) will buy it.

It's been hard not to compare my lack to others and I do it, but I try to be happy for other people.  But I know what it's like to have demons, I know what it's like to have silent struggles and suffering.  And I have come to the conclusion that even if it is a person's choice to commit suicide--it is never the RIGHT choice.  And this is coming from me.  As a small insignificant blip in the world, my struggles however personal, are mine.

And here's the rub, we focus too much on ourselves.  We think it is wrong to suffer.  We've been taught that people need to be positive, cause who wants to be around a downer?  But the truth is life is CRUEL at times.

And maybe it's when we focus too much on the cruelty, we fail to see the beauty and the kindness there too.  I'm not a positive person.  I'm not a negative person.  I like to think that I'm a realist.

IN my exhaustion(because I am in a down-swing Hashimoto's phase right now) I'm choosing to push beyond myself.  Beyond my depression, because I've found the best way to help myself get out of that is to help other people.  To stop focusing on my own "situation" and try not to judge(I feel like I judge too much) and enjoy the little things.

And accept the fact that, I may never have a baby, or make a million dollars, or get married, or travel, or etc etc...my list continues.  Because all that doesn't even matter, all that matters is survival.   Which is the opposite of suicide....I am alive.  That's good enough for me.

Gettin A Education(it should be AN)

Most of you who read my musings know that I love to cook...
Well I've learned a lot about food the past week...but not in a good way!

(and no, I'm not talking about the beer and omelette I ate...but that was a fun combo)

So, Pan told me about this hilarious Instagram called cookingforbae.  Now, these are not for the weak of stomach.  These photos are some of the most disgusting vomit-like food products I've ever seen...but the comments make me laugh so hard, I cried.

But as I laughed I couldn't help but wonder, what is a bae???  I had to look it up.  Bae.  Is  a shortened form of Babe, cause, you know that extra B is just too much to say.


Here's a less disgusting photo from cookingforbae.

Oh, so much to learn from this site.  I have now added #struggleplate and #struggleslice to my dictionary.  You know, a struggle slice is one of those wrapped-up processed cheese products.

In fact, I think in a past-life that stuff was called Government Cheese.

 This gov't cheese was mentioned in my new favorite realty TV show-Wahlburgers, and it just began its' second season tonight on A&E.  I had caught a couple episodes a few months ago, but thanks to OnDemand TV, I watched the whole series...in two nights.  What can I say I was a big fan of NKOTB.

  

Watching the siblings interact, reminds me so much of my own family.  Sure , we didn't have nine kids, but Kate told each of us that we were her favorite child... just like Mama Wahlberg.  And my Mom cooked food the same way too.  From the sauce, to the chopped suey with noodles and ground beef. the mentioning of English Muffin Pizzas...I couldn't stop thinking about my Mom and her cooking.  I was also moved by the competitive nature of the siblings, and the talk of the government cheese.

And this is s a shout out to my family.  Over the years I've found that no matter how much we have bickered, fought, competed with each other, when someone tries to mess with any of us, they don't have a chance.  I've learned that not every family is like this.  In sharing in the grief, I am bonded to my brother and sister in a way I never thought possible.   And I love them more than anyone else in the world.  I don't know if they realize the extent of that love either.  But watching this stupid TV show about a family running a burger place in the Boston area, just reminds me how important family is.  

And of course we all know who Kate's favorite was....

Five

Has always been my favorite number.
Born in the fifth month, five people in my family and one of five "Sarah's" in my Kindergarten class.
In 1980, the number five most popular name(there's my number again) 272,522 Sarah's (also 104,634 Sara's) born in the USA.  And in my class of thirteen girls, there were FIVE...all with the H.

We had to utilize other forms of our names to tell us apart.
There was: Sarahbeth, Sarah Marie, Sarah(yeah I wasn't too happy that she got the real deal) Sarah B(I think that was her) and me.  I got to be called..Sari.  Sare-eee. 

There are only two living people in the entire world that can call me Sari and I won't kill them. The third person is dead.

Almost every class/school there have been other Sarah's in my vicinity.  Seems it was one of those names.  You know the ones...we will be our children's Aunt Florence, Grandma Milly, or my fave--Edna.  But our kids will have Great-Aunt Jessica, Grandma Michele,  Great-Grandma Jen....it's funny really.

Names are such an extension of ourselves, I've always found it really strange that so many other people have my name.  There is even two others with my last name.  Thanks Google.  I used to fantasize that my name was something like:

Lillian
Eleanor
Victoria

Last year my niece Beatrix popped into the world.  She is the only Beatrix I have ever met.  I hope that she will not have my same crazy Kindergarten nickname experience, although she's already called Beep Boop and Bebe by me.

After my Kindergarten inundation of Sarah's, I began to hate my name.  It felt used, unoriginal I could walk in a room anywhere and someone could say it and three girls would look.  OKay, so it's not as bad as all those many Jennifers (girls at least you have a few cute nickname variations!), but as the years have progressed my name has started to grow on me a bit.
The thing is Sarah has been in the top twenty names for close to one hundred years.  Proudly, I have two ancestors who share my name--one born in the late 1700's the other in the 1800's.  But hey, I guess that for a few hundred years most people were named either John or Mary or James or Elizabeth so maybe I shouldn't complain so much.And I've come to like my name.

 In the grocery store today,  I heard,

"Sarah! Come here."

I turned around to see a young girl of about four running away in the produce section.  So the name continues on to other generations.


Identity is a fascinating subject.  Names denote so much about a person.  Socioeconomic status, race, age, gender etc.

Here is something Freakonomics wrote about names.  Well just listen to it...I find stuff like this fascinating.

And to all my fellow SARAH's out there live the meaning of our name, Princess.