Quote of the Day: September 23rd, 2016

Quote of the Day: I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, “if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” –Kurt Vonnegut

I thought this was so profound. I found it on my Timehop today from a Quote of the Day I posted 3 years ago and I needed it today, so I’m grateful to my 3 years ago self for posting it. Today was one of those mornings where everything seemed to go wrong from the moment I walked in the door at work. Nothing big, just little things that make you want to go back to bed. 

I know that I often forget to be happy in the moment, to recognize that in that moment I am truly okay with things going on around me. I have to smile at myself 3  years ago, because I’ve learned so much since then and in three years, I’ll have learned so much from what I know now.

But I guess…what I want to say to myself and to anyone out there who reads this…yes, bad days happen. Sometimes bad weeks, months, or even years happen. But there will be moments where if you truly think about who you are, you are happy. And if you can say that, I think it can make all the difference.

Like President Uchtdorf said, (and I’m paraphrasing), forget not to be happy now. Don’t wait for happiness to come to you when you reach that next ‘milestone’. Just do it. That’s what I’m going to try to do today.

Learning to Change-Happy

I'm a people pleaser. It's just who I am and always have been. I'm always worried about making everyone happy, and if someone isn't happy, it must be my fault. That's something that I'm working on. My mom knew this about me though, and whenever I talked to her about it, she would say, "You can make all of the people happy some of the time, and you can make some of the people happy all the time, but you can't make all of the people happy all of the time." (did you figure that one out yet? Go ahead, read it again, it took me five minutes to get the wording just how she would say it, so read it again to make me happy I did.)

Have you heard of that thing called change? (Don't worry, I'll bring it all together in the end)

I hate change. But I also love it.

Weird? Maybe not.

Think about it. Change that is thrust upon us is hard, but change that we control is usually exciting, even if it's hard. The thing about Change though, is that sometimes, you don't know how you react until you have to. It's easy to see how someone is dealing with a change in their life, and think that you would handle it differently. So I'm going to tell you something, there has been a lot of change in my life this past year.  Here are just a few of those changes:

March 6, 2014-We took my mom to the emergency room thinking she was having a stroke. A brain tumor was discovered and surgery was scheduled.

March 28, 2014-Mom was given 6 to 8 weeks to live with her cancer.

April 12, 2014-My dad passed away

June 14, 2014-My mom passed away

August 1, 2014-I moved to a new house

February, 2015-Parents house sold

March, 2015-Put an offer in on a house

April, 2015-Moved to a new house and a new city

In addition to these huge and difficult changes, the more normal variety of changes-both good and bad- happened. Work changed-location, responsibilities, co-workers-Relationships changed, babies were born, not having roommates, having roommates, Sunday dinners are different, Holiday's are different. And something that you don't really think about, futures are changed. Future plans and events where I pictured my parents being, have to be re-imagined and re-thought out.

Now, remember how I said: "It's easy to see how someone is dealing with a change in their life, and think that you would handle it differently." If you had told me on March 5th of 2014 that all those things would have happened to me, I wouldn't have believed you. If you would have asked, "if that happened, what would you do?" I would probably tell you that I would fall apart, I wouldn't know what to do. And that's true in some cases, I have many days where I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. But the thing that I have learned, is that I am doing. Day by day, I am doing this life thing. 

In the past year, I've met a lot of new people, (more changes) and I don't often tell them what has happened in the past year. (Is that something you bring up when you meet people? Your past years events?) These changes in my life, they are not not the first thing I break out for people to see about me. So of course, some things get brought up. One person asked, "so I mean, your young, not married, why would you want to buy a house?" to keep from having to get into that long story, I simply shrugged and responded, "Well, I like to shop."

In answer to that, yes, I got an inheritance from my parents. One thing that I decided to do was to buy a house with that money. I figured, "I'll spend the money either way, on rent or on owning something." and so I felt that it was the right decision for me to buy a house.

I know that there are people I have known for a long time who have felt like I haven't "Grieved like I'm supposed to." or even that, "she doesn't act like she misses her parents at all." Things like that bothered me. I'll be honest and tell you that it's bothered me a lot. Remember, I'm a people pleaser and so things like that get to me far more easily than I know they should.

My response? Like I said earlier, "I am doing." I'm trying to live a life that I think my parents would be proud of. Why? because I know they are watching. They are going to be there always and they will be my family always. I still plan parties and do things with people because they always liked to see me do those things. Do I miss them? Of course! More than I can ever explain and to have people say that it seems like I don't really hurts. There are moments of grieving that are private and should be that way because it is a private grief. I have 6 siblings and each of them miss our parents in a different way because our relationship to them was absolutely individual. But we all miss them. I miss them very much and I think each day brings a different aspect of that grief. There are days, even now that I want to go home and tell them something that happened at work. And then I remember they are gone, and then I can't believe that I'm still forgetting that they are gone after what seems such a long time. And I grieve a little bit because of that.  But because I don't say it out loud does not mean that it does not exist.

Before this last year, I was living in the basement apartment at my parents home helping to take care of them. I liked to have people over and we had fun there, so many good times. Someone said to me recently, "I miss your basement." I gave them a half smile and said, "yeah, me too." Perhaps to them that seemed silly to say, but in that "me too." I meant so much more. Because having my basement would not just mean a central place for people to gather and entertain. No, if I was still in that basement it would mean that my parents were still here, and that is what I miss.

Maybe it seems like I'm saying that I now know it all. Far from it.

I have people in my life, those I know well and those I don't know so well, who in the past year have experienced loss like mine. You would think I know how to say something to them, but I don't. I think a big part of that is because I have realized that no matter what I could say, I know that nothing will really help them in their pain. But what I do know is this, grief is individual. No one experiences it the same. There are five stages according to science, but sometimes you go back a stage, skip two and go back three. Then you 'finish' all five stages and then something happens and it starts all over again.

This blog post might seem silly to you. But it's been bothering me, it's been on my mind for so many weeks now and so here it is. Back to the beginning. "You can make all of the people happy some of the time, and you can make some of the people happy all the time, but you can't make all of the people happy all of the time." I can't do it. I can't make everyone happy all of the time, no matter how hard I try. So what writing this was about was making me happy. Change is hard, but I am doing and I'm changing my life so that I can learn and be happy from those changes that I've had happen.

That is what I am trying to do. I'm trying to live happy.

My Goal to be Green Arrow

If you know me at all, you'll know I have a love for Smallville. "That old TV show?" you say. Well, yes, that old TV show. I've watched every episode and re-watched most of them as well. (That Emily episode, I just couldn't do it. Talk about nightmares)

Well, there is a quote from that show that has stuck with me for years. I think about it almost every time I'm on Facebook or Instagram.  Or every time I want to blog, this quote comes to mind. It makes me question my purpose, but I think in a good way.

Let me tell you about this quote. In the show, Oliver Queen has just come out in a press conference and told the world that he is the Green Arrow. He did this in hopes of getting back his girlfriend, who had left him to protect his secret. The world has mixed feelings about his announcement, and he gets a lot of flack for his choice of nighttime activities. The world seemed a lot more understanding of his 'Play Boy' attitude than of his 'Vigilante' one. In an interview, the following conversation takes place:  

Oliver Queen: I lost someone. She meant everything to me.

TV Reporter: So, for that you want what, a merit badge and special rights?

Oliver Queen: No. No, you're right. I'm not special. This isn't about who I am. It's about what I do. And I don't think I'm the first rich boy who felt that way. It was John F. Kennedy who once said, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country."

TV Reporter: So now you're comparing yourself to a fallen hero of this country?

Oliver Queen: Well, why not? He saw the hero in all of us. I'm not dwelling on revenge of past atrocities or looking from to what I can personally gain from a few tax breaks, drilling oil wells in the ocean, putting up razor-wired fences to keep out immigrants who only want what our grandparents wanted. In this world of armchair bloggers who created a generation of critics instead of leaders, I'm actually doing something, right here, right now, for the city, for my country. And I'm not doing it alone. You're damn right I'm a hero.

I'm not saying we should be an arrow slinging vigilantes. (Although, I for one, do love archery) But I am trying to say something. I told you I think about this quote, I think about it a lot. It's our generation to be out there on social media and to be known and 'Liked' and 'selfie-d' (I made that up) and just out there. I like that too, I like to be recognized in that way. But what I want to try to remember to ask myself before I post is, 'are you being an armchair blogger and a critic?' or, 'are you commenting on this just to comment, or do you actually have value to add to a discussion?'. Sometimes I fail in my attempt and make a knee jerk comment or post that I later cringe at.  Sometimes I get defensive in my conversations instead of just willing to listen.

But I am trying to make the decision to act in this world instead of just react.  

Change is not easy for me. (And I quote: Change fills my pockets with pennies of uncertainty -Girl Meets World)  But I am learning that this world is full of change daily and I can learn and grow from that. I hope you'll accept me while I do that.

In my last post, I said that my goal was to be the good in this world. I want everything I do to add to the good in this world and not take away from it. 

My Goal

Here is my confession. I love blogging in many ways. I want to blog.

"But," you say, "then why so long between blog posts?"

The thing is. I also have this huge fear when it comes to blogging. A fear of being labeled a hypocrite. Of being judged of something, or of my words being taken the wrong way. I'm afraid of appearing to be someone I'm not.

But I want to have a voice out here. I don't know why exactly it's a goal of mine. Maybe because it's cleansing, and writing helps me sort out my thoughts and dreams. but still...

I'm afraid of...putting myself out there. But I want to. I want to be...the good. I want to be a positive light and I want to write, and write and make a difference. I figure out who I am when I write and I want to do that.

So if you read my blog, then I'm grateful to  you because I WANT people to read my blog. And I want you to comment, to put yourself out there too ...but be the good! Let's stop filling the internet with criticism and hate, state your opinion and state it clearly, but without arguing and without bullying and putting another person down.

That is my goal. To be the good and show that good!

I have loved this image since I first saw it on Pinterest.
It's not mine, but it's exactly how I feel!!

Are you in? 

Lessons from Dad and a Happy Anniversary

After my recent post about my mom, I thought it only fair that I say a few things about my dad too. But what to say about him? His example of patience and endurance, the relationship I had with him, the lessons he taught me...there are so many things that my dad was to me. One of the things I miss most was our nightly routine. For several years after my mission, my sister and I would help put my dad to bed every night. The three of us had it down pat and every night at nine, we knew where we would be and what we would be doing. One of my favorite things to do was to tell dad stories or jokes that would make him laugh. Getting him to laugh was a small success every time. It was because of my nightly comedy routine for dad that my mom thought I should try out to be a stand-up comedian. But seriously; my dad is one of the few people who got my jokes, so the comedy route just wouldn't work out.    

I didn't know my dad when he was a young dad. He was 49 when I was born in 1986, but what was neat, is that when my sisters and I were writing his life sketch, we were able to read through the life history he had written over the past several years. It think that my favorite part about that was realizing that he had been someone just like me at one time. He had outrageous dreams, like playing as catcher for the New York Yankees, and he had fears too, life providing for his wife and family after he had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.  

All these things about my dad are important things for you to know, but last Saturday, September 12th was their 58th wedding anniversary and so I thought I'd tell you a little love story.

I don't know all the details, I know they met on a blind date in October of 1956. I know that dad called mom for a second date, but it wasn't until later that she found out that he had been too terrified to call her and he had asked his friend to call, pretend he was Bob and ask mom out for that second date. They dated that whole winter (Mom said her grade in math that year when from an A, to a B, to a C and a D) And then on Mom's 18th birthday and graduation day, the two were engaged and set the wedding for that fall.

The years that followed brought more schooling, kids, job hunting, moving to another country, a MS diagnosis, grand kids and a million other life experiences they shared together.

Dad's health was one thing that he dealt with for many years. In 1999, dad suffered a heart attack and had triple bi-pass surgery, with his MS, any infection could send him to the hospital. Medications were a delicate balance at times, because with one thing off, it could be another trip to the hospital. In 2010, my dad wasn't doing well and we ended up taking him to the hospital in the middle of the night. My one sister, Karen, and I were with dad in the emergency room that night when the Docter, serious and blunt, but also kind and gentle told us and my dad that due to an infection, his heart was out of rhythm and was slowing down. Which meant there was the risk of it slowing down and then stopping, or that blood clots would form and cause a stroke, both cases would likely be fatal and not to far distant given the current condition of his heart. Dad had a decision to make. He could continue living as he was and let his heart alone with a small amount of time left, or he could go to a specialist and have a pacemaker put in, greatly reducing the risks he currently dealt with.

We let dad make that decision, and he was quiet for a long moment before he looked back up at the doctor and told him that he wanted to have the pacemaker put in. That pacemaker gave him four more years with mom and the family and so I consider it worth it. But there was a greater cost I will come back to, something I didn't consider until four years later.

Those four years were not easy, the included many more hospital trips and a stroke in 2013. My dad did not complain though. He never regretted, or at least he never expressed regret, at his decision for that pacemaker because he was with my mom and with our family.

When my mom got her terminal diagnosis with brain cancer in March of last year, we took dad to the hospital to see her that day. In that room, he looked at her in her hospital bed and said, shaking his head, "This isn't how it's supposed to be. I'm supposed to go first."

Mom in her typical fashion looked at him and said, "well, maybe you still will."

Despite the how hard and tiring the daily trips to the hospital and care center were for my dad, he wanted to visit mom every day. He wanted to be there for her, to hold her hand when it was hard for him to talk, and to make sure she wasn't alone and that us kids were doing our part to take care of her.

In those few weeks, he had his own doctors and hospital visits as his his was finally winning the war it had waged on him for so many decades. When we took him to the hospital for the second time, dad never work up and he passed away on April 12th, 2014.

It was then, that I realized the significance of the decision he had made four years earlier to get the pacemaker. We don't get to decide when we are going to leave this world, but I believe that my dad was given a lot of say in that matter. His life with MS was not easy, it was not comfortable, and it was very limiting. When I think back on all the times dad could have left us;  when he had his heart attack several years earlier, when he needed the pacemaker, when he had his stroke, and many other times when infection or MS raged through his body. He chose to do what he needed to do to say here because he wanted to be there for his wife.

He had reached the point though, where he could no long be there for her in a way that he wanted to and so he left so that he could be there on the other side to comfort her at night when she needed comfort. To be there to greet her when she left this world just 63 days later. When I wrote about mom, I wrote about her love of people and her gift of happiness. My dad, he loved my mom. 

Every love story is different, I recognize that clearly, but I also recognize that my dad loved my mom, and so even when it's hard that they aren't here, I'm grateful that they are together for 58 years now and an eternity to come. 

A Lesson from My Mom

I've been thinking a lot about happiness. I took a college class a few years ago on the Psychology of Happiness, and it has interested me ever since.

I would say, that in general, I'm a happy person. Everyone has their moments of course, but happy is the happiest way to be. (also, happy is a weird word. Just say it to yourself a couple of times and then you'll look over your shoulder, slightly embarrassed and wondering if you're crazy because obviously, you've been saying that word wrong for forever. Such a weird sounding word can't really mean something so big and life altering. But I think it does.)

I have decided that happiness is a learning process, and I learned something new today so I wanted to write about it. My disclaimer is this: Even happy people will sometimes be sad. They will sometimes feel stress and anxiety and even fear of an uncertain future. But they will come through it because they know there is something greater out there.  (Also, a disclaimer to my disclaimer just in case: I'm not talking about clinical depression or anxiety, there are cases like that out there and I'm not trying to lesson those in any way. BUT I think that even with those things, people are seeking happiness and so don't stop seeking!)  

Now I want you to look out at the world, the radio shows, news reports, popular books, magazines, conversations with friends. I bet that somewhere in your moments of musing, you can come up with some recent mention of lack of happiness. News stories start because someone wasn't happy with their life. New and popular books give you formula's to happiness. People who have all the attention, all the money and all the things you could ever want, still complain about being happy. I know that I've complained before. (and obviously I don't have everything, see, still complaining!)

Well today I was on Pinterest, I was looking at the recent things I've pinned and I focused on how many of them were about happiness. Like I said, it's something that has been on my mind lately. Another thing that is never far from my mind is my mom. My dad too, but in this case, it's my mom I've been thinking a lot about. Let me tell you a little bit about her and then we'll go back to talking about happiness.

My cute little mom and with my niece, Emily

My mom had a million friends. Probably more because she talked to everyone she met-even people she never met! In elementary school they had a pen pal and she was given the names of three from different parts of the world to write. I remember the stories she told me about two of them. One lived somewhere in England and they wrote to each other well into high school. When Queen Elizabeth was coroneted that pen pal sent my mom a handkerchief to commemorate the event. One pen pal was from Australia and sent her books and other mementos over the years. They kept in contact, although less and less, but they told each other about their families and sent pictures.

Here at home, mom had just as powerful of friendships. When my nephew and I were in Jr High, we went to dinner with my mom and some of the friends she had kept in touch with since high school. My nephew and I choose not to sit at the table with the 'old people' because they were so loud, laughing, and embarrassing that we wanted it to be known we were separate. They sat at dinner for nearly 3 hours, talking and laughing and just having so much fun. I envied those friendships, that after nearly 50 years, were still meaningful to my mom and my dad, her friends and their spouses as well.  

When my mom got sick last year, I was given the task of going through her phone book (Which requires a Rosetta stone for translation purposes) and calling all the important people in her life. I eventually had to share the task with some of my siblings as well because it was simply too overwhelming to try to call everyone who wanted to know. But the thing was, as we talked to all those people, almost all of them had talked to my mom within the previous month. These were not just family members, although many of them were. But they were her friends from high school, they were some of MY friends from high school, an old neighbors son, her AVON customers through the years. The spouses of my dad's old co-workers. When I told my mom about who I talked to, she knew about the things that were going on in each person's life.  Her old Senior Class President was a Patriarch who was caring for his wife with Alztimers, an AVON customer who had just gone through a divorce, a cousin who had been lost for years that she had found with $20 and a PI company out of California. Even the kids of her dad's old friend living in Oregon. She knew them all, they had all talked to her about their problems just days before and none of them could believe that she was dying of a brain tumor.  

Mom with the Bachelor-her favorite show for some reason

I'm not saying this all because I'm trying to point out how great she was (although she was!) but just because these were things I had not fully realized about my mom and I'm even just now realizing. By my view point, my mom had every reason to be unhappy. She had lived for over 10 years with painful Rheumatoid Arthritis, my dad and her husband of over 50 years had suffered with MS for nearly as long as they had been together. My mom loved to go and see and do things, but because of her health limitations, many time she couldn't do what she wanted. She could have been very unhappy.   But she was not! And she was a major factor of brightness and happiness in the lives of others. So as I read all these Pinterest quotes on happiness, I thought of my mom and I thought of two things:

1. Often, doing something [that seems] small for someone else will make YOU feel happier than doing something big for yourself.

2. My mom was the kind of person who when the world said, "Remember, to take time for yourself" she would take that time and go do something for someone else.  

So I have to conclude that while the world will tell you that your happiness depends on what you get from someone else, it is wrong. It is what you give to someone else that makes you truly happy.

All those number one selling books on happiness out there will tell you that happiness is mostly a choice that you make. And they are right. But it a choice that you make for others that really makes you happy.

I know that when I am not happy in life, I can look at myself and realize that it is something that I am not doing. Something that I am not choosing. And when I choose happiness, it makes all the difference in my day. Remember my Disclaimer? (My disclaimer is this: Even happy people will sometimes be sad. They will sometimes feel stress and anxiety and even fear of an uncertain future. But they will come through it because they know there is something greater out there.) This is what I want to add to that. Do not let sadness, stress, anxiety, fear, frustration, anger or pride keep you from being happy. Do not use it as an excuse. Find a way to be happy. That is my new goal. I bet you'd be happy if that was your goal too.

A Poem

See...here is a Poem I wrote: 

So, here's the deal. I'm not a poet, In fact, I typically avoid writing poetry, but I woke up with these words in my head and I had to write them down. That was a couple weeks ago, and I've hesitated to post it because I was afraid how it would be seen. 

Not because I'm afraid people won't like it, I don't really care what people think regarding my poetry skills; I'm amateur at best. But I was afraid to post it because it gives the impression of sadness and while there is a sadness in grief, over the past year I've also learned the beauty in grief. 

I miss my parents, and that's a good thing. I want to be missed when I'm gone as well. But the emotion of grief has also taught me so much this past year. It's so much more complex than I ever thought it was before. I used to think that grief was just being sad, but I have learned that it's not just that. I'm not even sure that they are sort of the same thing. 

I think that grief is the bridge that helps us cross over from sadness to moving on.  

In my psychology classes over the years, I learned about the stages of grief, and we can categorize them if you want, but it doesn't really work like that for every person. If I had to define my grief, I would say that it is memories. Little memories and big ones too. When they come, especially through everyday little things, I've started to record them because I want to always be able to remember those things. 

For example, at a fireside Sunday the speaker talked about the old church primary song, "Little Purple Pansies" and I realized that the song I thought my mom had made up (She had a knack for making up silly songs) was real. Whenever she saw Pansies - and most especially in the fall and winter time- she would sing that pansie song. I wrote that down to remember her and the pansie faces she loved.

I have a knack for getting paper cuts, the hazards of a lot of filing at work, and for some reason, I seem to get paper cuts in groups and usually just on one hand at a time. This last week, my right hand was all bandaged up with cuts when I got another cut. I shook my head at my own clumsiness and in that moment I thought of my dad, who when I was little would tease me about always injuring one side of me. One time when I stepped on a upturned nail, he pulled it out of my foot and while I cried, he comforted me by saying, "well, at least it wasn't on the side with all your other injuries!" Which made me giggle and forget some of the pain I was in. 

I think those memories are grief. They are at times tinged with sadness, but most often than not, they bring a peace that lets me know that everything is okay. 

But as my poem says, there are days that the grief comes hard and fast and not in slow and trickling memories.I've learned to appreciate those days as well because they are human days that we have to have in order to get stronger. 

Grief doesn't go away in just those well defined stages-grief stays with you and turns you into something more. It turns you into the person that those lost loved ones know you truly are-who they see you as. And that is why it is so important. And so, as you read this poem, remember, it's not in sadness that it was written, but in growth and in grief. 

And don't forget: