Keeping your nose to the grindstone will only get you so far. You’ll never advance if you can’t socialize. Start small, then learn to work the crowd, today.

Even my horoscope is yelling at me. Slow the freak D. O. W. N.

I’m trying. I’m trying. I’m trying.

I am grateful for the boyfriend, who by being in my life, is keeping me from becoming a complete hermit crab. I never thought that I would be the kind of person who wanted to have a set-in-stone, weekly-date-night. But I do. I am really appreciating it right now. Even though not all of our dates are full of romance and passion, with fairy-tale kisses and firework-displays; they are perfectly suited to where I am right now, and what I need.

Last night was the perfect example of this. I had nothing planned, other than him coming over, and cooking a meal, maybe watching some of the TV show that he is introducing me too. He shared with me that he wanted to go out with this group of friends, for pizza. A group that he is slowing getting to know and enjoy their company, and I as well. They are all nice people, and of like-minds; so its nice to get to just be ourselves with them. It was a low-key, outing, where we got to see each other face-to-face, and hold hands, and talk about our days. All the while, sharing some food and good company with nice people.

So, to the Universe – I’m working on it. And Zack is helping. 🙂

grateful vs resentful

I struggle with this one a LOT. More than I would ever like to admit to anyone. I find it hard to be grateful for what people choose to give me, and seem to become resentful towards them, for when they choose to withhold from me.

I can remember resenting my Momma, when she flat-out turned me down, at my offer to have her babysit Rebecca. Rebecca was an infant, and I was a tired brand-new mother. Momma was still working full-time as a teacher. After teaching 135 children all day, coming home to a screaming kid, was not her idea of a good time. I can’t say that I blame her. Yet, I do remember resenting the fact that I had no help in those days.

As the babies kept coming, Daphne just a year later. Then Bronwyn 3 after that. Each time asking my folks if they wanted to attend the baby’s birth, or to be there to help out, I was told, “No thank you.” By the time Russell came along, I didn’t even make the offer. Resentment settled in as I watched them traveling 672 miles to my sister’s side each time she gave birth, yet couldn’t travel the 23 miles to my home.

I used to joke that I could count on 1 hand how many occasions my parents had babysat for my children. 1 hand. That’s less than 5. Over the course of my having 4 children spaced 8 and 1/2 years apart. Yes, there was a lot of resentment built up there.

In recent years though, my parent’s attitude towards grandparenting changed, as well as their commitments towards being teachers of children. They have taken care of my children on so many occasions I can no longer keep the count. I know that it must look strange to outsiders, and feel even stranger to my parents when I gush and gush and gush my gratitude towards them, each time that they help me out. Phone calls, texts messages, even taking one or both of them out for a meal, to show my thankfulness. I know that had I not spent those years being turned down, I would not appreciate it half as much, as I do.

Along with that lesson I think that is why it is so very hard for me to actually ask for things. I’ve become so accustomed to being told, “No.” that I don’t feel, that I deserve very much in life. Instead I find myself just trying to do everything on my own, and having to work twice as hard, because of these chains.

Maybe the lesson isn’t so much as to be grateful for what I get, but to also keep in the forefront of my mind — don’t ask, don’t assume, just accept what you get and be thankful for that.

My eldest has officially grown up, and moved out into the great big world, on her own. ((**Don’t get me started*)) She is transforming and changing into this amazing person that I am so lucky to have gotten to spend 18 years with. Its been hard coming into her room. Okay, took me 11 days to even open the door… but who’s counting.

Little by little, I have been spending more and more time in Rebecca’s room. Its been her room since she was one (1) year, and three (3) weeks old. Again, who’s counting. If it wasn’t her room, it was her and Daphne’s room. Or her, Daphne, and Bronwyn’s room. Then it was for a little bit just Bronwyn and Russell’s room, until she moved back in and we gave Russell his own room.

She’s not going to be a little girl, living in this room any more. So, I’m transforming her room into it’s next phase, too.

Let the transformation begin.

Let the transformation begin.

Oh yes... this is going to take 2 coats of primer.

Oh yes… this is going to take 2 coats of primer.

I can still see blue paint.... pffft!

I can still see blue paint…. pffft!

Lonely vs Alone

Lonely vs Alone

There is a difference between being alone and being lonely.

I have been in a room filled with people and felt lonely. There being no connection to a single one of them. Not eye-contact. Not physical touch. Not a kind word. Just buzzing that goes around and around and around… with all of it bouncing off of me, instead of penetrating my soul. Lonely.
With a room full of people that I like.
With those that I’m related too.
Even those that are supposed to love me.

I have been out in the middle of the world, without another human around and felt voluminous. Though there is not a soul in sight, I have felt full of other peoples’ presences. All of my senses filled with sounds, sights, tastes, smells, and touches… all of it permeating my spirit. Surrounded.
With a just another single soul.
With my family around me.
Even with people I’ve never even met before.

This seem like an improbability. A contradiction. An anomaly. How could I feel alone in a crowded room, yet feel so complete without another human around for miles? What is it about some people that seem to drag me down and make me feel as if I don’t exist in the world. Yet thinking of the right person will make me feel so alive and vibrant.

There must be a correlation between Orendas. When we meet those that are vibrating on the same level as our own, then that connection can occur. That feeling of oneness. That wholeness. That connectedness. Which then, in opposite reaction, when we meet those who are vibrating at a different level than our own, we feel Alone.

If we are to grow and become a better spiritual wholeness, then we must find ways of bridging this gap. So that none of us feel this loneliness. I wish that I could fix it. I can’t. I haven’t figured it out yet, myself.

I’m working on it.

I’m frustrated.
Irritated.
Trying to get everything done for every one.
Forgetting things.
Running out of time.
So many pulls, so many different directions.

I’m looking over what Chonteau and I talked about.
It’s all about ME!

So how is this all about me?

I want to live simpler. More authentic.
The Universe is trying to help me. I know it. Pushing to give me what I want. What will make me truly happy. But I have all of these obligations. Demands on my time.

I told a friend today, “No.” It really bothered me to say that to her. She wasn’t asking much, but I still said “No, I can’t do that.” I offered her other alternatives. A different day. I know that it wasn’t easy for her to ask me either. Yet, I wanted to respect my self, and my boundaries, and what I needed for me. I told her, “No.”.

Why Did that bother me?

Because I don’t want her to not like me. I don’t want her to think that I am not here for her. That I am not a good friend.

I want to be a good friend. Being a good friend means being there for them. Helping them. Doing what you can for them.

If the roles were reversed. I would not think bad of her. I would understand. I would respect her for taking care of herself. I would be okay.

So why do I think so little of myself for doing the same thing?

YET!!!
In this same day, I made the decision to Not do something for somebody. Not necessarily a friend. The person who wants me to do something for them, for free. The person who has had me do this for them for several years. Without any compensation, or giving back. Except, for the one year, when he made a lot of money, and gave a $100.00. Which I really appreciated at the time. And I didn’t mind all the other years, doing this for him, when he didn’t have anything to give me in returned.

So why do I mind, doing this for him now, for free?

I feel as though he’s using me. He has had seven months to do this. There were times when I was ready to do this for him, had the time, made the appointment, and he didn’t follow through. And it is like this every year. I don’t feel a sense of appreciation, from him.

I know that this is my talent to give. That it is a way in which I contribute to my community. I love to do this for other people, but I dread doing it for him.

If I want to live in more authentic life… Then I have to do those things that make me feel good.

So tonight, I decided that I really don’t want to do this for him. I don’t want to go through this hassle any longer. I want to just cross him off of my to-do list.

The moment I decided to just give back to this person, all of his documents and stuff, rather than expend the time and energy to do this service for him… I felt a lighting of my body.

Now, I just have to give him back as documents, in such a way, that there is no drama. I do not owe him any explanation. I simply have to tell him, “You will have to have somebody else do your taxes.”

Because to create a drama out of this, would not be very authentic. Even though, I am always felt I needed to give an explanation for everything I’ve done. To justify my choices. To make my choices, acceptable to somebody else.

They only have to be acceptable to ME.

Is giving him back as paperwork and not doing his taxes, with no explanation, acceptable to me? Is telling my friend no, and offering her an alternative, acceptable to me?

I don’t know.

Today’s Awkward Mothering Moment, was brought to me by “The Athletics Protective Cup”.

For the first half of baseball practice, my son ran around, holding his crotch. The second half, I got to hold his “Cup” in my lap. (*note to self : wear clothing with pockets*)

Then to make matters worse, after practice, I was approached by several of the fathers, each offering instructions on proper wearing of said device, that I now held in my hands. Complete with hand gestures, in their own private body parts.

Red faced, son and I went home, where we combined our newly learned knowledge. With him and me in the bathroom, pulling things up… yanking other things down… and turning things back outside-out.

I am happy to report. It fits like a glove.

They say, “Your Children will be your Greatest Teachers”.

If they mean that in having children, you will learn about things that you never wanted to know… they would be right.

For the 2nd time this calender year, I am faced with learning about something I never thought would cross my path. Attention Deficit Hyper-activity Disorder.

Can I just say right now, I Do Not Like The Name.

I don’t like it one bit.

I don’t like the word “Disorder”. Or the word “Deficit”. They have such a negative connotation to me. I don’t like it. Not one bit.

So there.

Barry’s girlfriend, Rhonda, told Barry that Russell had this condition. Rhonda is not a doctor. Nor a nurse. Nor a therapist. She is substitute teacher, and she told Barry that she was sure that RJ had this. Now, as much as I am not too thrilled with another woman parenting my child. And I do have many issues with the way that Barry has brought another person into our children’s lives, without so much as a “How do you do.” And as reluctant as I was about our children being labeled in such a fashion…. I will be the bigger person here and say, “Rhonda was right.”

It started with me realizing that Russell needed to repeat the 3rd grade. Heck I wanted him to repeat the 2nd grade, after a few weeks in 3rd grade, to help him. I knew that he was struggling by Labor Day, just 3 weeks into the school year. But I had to wait it out. So I did.

Then I went round – after round – with the principle, Mrs. Billar, about him repeating this past 3rd grade year. Even going so far as to call the school board. I had him held back. Even though he officially passed, due to the FCAT test… which he told me, he simply guessed each answer on. He guessed and managed to get just the right number of points 198 to pass. If he had 197, there would have been no fight.

I did this – against Barry’s wanting – tough shit for him. But on the condition that I would have him tested for ADHD.

So I went do see Dr. Kelly – his pediatrician. She gave me the forms to fill out. Some for Barry. Some for my mom. Some for his therapist. Some for his last year’s teacher. She told me that this was mute point, as I would not be able to get his teacher to fill out forms, in the summer. She underestimated me.
lol

When I turned in all the forms, in July, she called me to tell me that she was impressed. Surprised that it could be done. Yet, impressed that I was that tenacious.

She also tested him for every thing under the sun. 7 vials of blood work taken. 28 different tests. To rule out a biological cause for his difficulties. Like a thyroid problem. Which I would like to have had, so that I could blame Barry for it.

I did not get my wish.

On August 11th I got Russell’s diagnosis. Attention Deficit Hyper-activity Disorder. Or Disease.

We talked on the phone for nearly an hour. I had a BUNCH of questions as you can imagine. She gave me a prescription for a drug
and at my insistence, one for Behavior therapy.

I started researching. I bookmarked a bunch of websites. I started reading. I got books reserved for me at the library. I even bought books off of Amazon. I even got some information from the pharmacist, on the drug that she prescribed.

I wanted to blame all of this on Barry’s genetics. After all he is the one with a history of mental disorders in his family. He is the one with a history of depression, and bi-polar, and just plain crazy. Yet, As the Doctor described what its like in Russell’s brain… I realize that I would not get my wish for this either. Dr. Kelly described for me, what it has always been like in my brain.

Only she was talking about Russell’s.

It never occurred to me until that conversation, that there was anything different about my brain. That thinking things, all the time, and jumping from subject to subject, was what every body did. That everyone had moments where they zoned out and didn’t hear what another person was saying, unless looking directly at them, and focusing their attentions on that person. That all brains wandered around, and skipped to different subjects, if the person speaking was boring. That all people, thought thoughts, all the time. Even when just thinking “there’s nothing to think about” thoughts, when that was the case.

It used to drive Barry up the wall, and I can’t tell you how many arguments arose between us, because I would ask him a simple question: “Whatcha thinking?”

When he would reply, “Nothing.”
I never believed him.
Ever.

I just assumed that all brains, thought things, all the time. You can’t have a person, who isn’t having a thought, 24/7. Its just not possible. I would get irritated by Barry’s answer. I accused him of hiding things from me, because there was no way that he wasn’t thinking some Thing. (*he usually was hiding something, but that is a different discussion of my marriage*)

So now we are here. We better understand what is happening for my son. Welcome to the world of A.D.H.D.