Saint Inertia

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Patron Saint of those who have a tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged… you know who you are. There could be any number of reasons for this but if you rely on physics:

…a property of matter by which it continues in its existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line, unless that state is changed by an external force.

You being the “matter” the external force well, a gentle kick in the ass comes to mind. For no other reason than you’re bitching about it, without ever once having made a move to change it.  Not seeking an external force in the way of, oh let’s call it HELP. Or change of scenery, or tweaking, or reading, or learning, or left turn, or exertion (there’s a patron saint for this too), or something other than what you’re doing now.

This seems to be testing my patience at an ever increasing rate and frankly I’m beginning to question the word patience as my guiding principle for this year. Somehow the universe is sending me situation after situation with a “let’s see what she does with this one” attitude.

But I’m not biting. Nope, can’t make me. Not gonna do it. What I am going to do is let go (see previous post) of all the people places and things I feel compelled to fix. Listen I have found myself at the altar of Saint Inertia on more than one occasion, once for almost eighteen years so I get it but it sucked. It took all those kinds of help listed above to break free and I’m still harnessing external forces because this Saint has some serious staying power if you let her in. She’s a force to be reckoned with but it’s worth the effort. My sister is using what she calls the GYST (get your shit together) method and it seems to be working for her.

Allowing yourself to remain in her grasp will kill you, it robs you of sleep, effects your finances, your performance in almost every aspect of your life, it puts on weight or takes it off too damn fast (I should only have that problem), it makes you believe this is where you’re supposed to be, and it’s NOT. It’s the equivalent of walking on thin ice every day of your life without realizing it. STOP IT before you fall through and drown.

So. When someone rolls their eyes at you, connect.  When someone asks you if they can help, let them. If someone pays you a compliment, believe them.  If anything happens other than your norm, give it a try. That’s called saying yes.

You might not have to go running back to the altar of Saint Inertia for forgiveness.  You might actually take a baby step. It’s true. It could happen. You might wind up changing…with the tiniest bit of help from Saint Exertion. Now she’s got GYST.

On Letting Go

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In 2017 I resolved to let go of people, places and things that I would feel compelled to fix. Mind you there usually isn’t a request for me to fix something/anything I just feel, well, compelled.  I don’t want to feel responsible for the care and feeding of anyone but me for the foreseeable future.  I do, however, reserve the right to jump back in if I can’t help myself.

In order to do that I need to listen more and speak less.  It’s true that on some occasions I speak louder with silence than I do with words. That is if anybody notices.

This has been an interesting (in the there’s more under the surface kind of iceberg analogy of interesting) week for me. It provided an opportunity to put my new found listen (or in this case read) more, talk less technique to the test.

To put some historical perspective on this, several years ago the world lost a fabulous human being.  I was incredibly lucky to call him mentor and friend, as were many, but even more I was privileged to become family. When he passed away a small group of colleagues who felt the loss especially deeply bonded together over their grief and love of this man. We became a club which by definition is an association dedicated to a particular interest or activity. And that we were, until we weren’t.

As is the fate of many clubs this one met less and less often and seemed to lose track of its original purpose which was to emulate the man.  To emulate this man was to laugh, chide and hold each other accountable when one or another got outta hand.  It was not unusual to hear him say, what the hell is wrong with you, or snap out of it, or just plain WHATTT, and pull you back into reality.  He understood reality, things change, time marches on, and you can either go with it or bitch about it.  He wasn’t a fan of bitching about it.

And so when the “reminder” (complete with copy of the obit) came over email that he would be gone seven years this Saturday my spine twisted.  First, no shit.  Second, I am the last one that needs to be reminded of that because I am still living the legacy he gifted me.  Here on Stowe Lane we say his name every day, there is no better legacy than that.

Then there is the inevitable let’s get together, but I can’t. I just can’t. I’ve come to know that I can no longer listen to the same conversation over and over as it does nothing to help me (it does nothing to help them) it makes me feel “compelled”.  It is completely contrary to the man.

Don’t get me wrong he loved a good piece of gossip, what’d ya hear…but he laughed at it and moved on.  And so when the angst started showing through and the lists of people who had been wronged made its way into the email stream I knew that the intent of the get together was not going to be to celebrate the impact he had on our lives but to discuss the perceived slow and painful decent of the company (a company that has been good to me because he showed me how it worked).  WHATTTTT?

And so I said nothing.  I was silent. I have loved these people the better part of my career and they are still in my heart for the support they provided me when I needed it, but if I’m going to move into the third act of my life in the coming years I can’t bring this with me. I just can’t, especially since the silence went unnoticed. You are missed my friend…

Patience

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Generally I’m not one of those people who chooses a “word” each year but this year a word seems to have chosen me.  Patience.   My mother is famous for calling patience a virtue, I’m calling bullshit on that.   I’m going more with Aristotle’s point of view, patience is excruciating, but worth it.

So far this year, another hospital stay for Mom that looked as if it might be the last. But…Phoenix that she is, she’s actually back in rehab where she’s the bell of the ball as you know by now. Some interesting things have come out of this latest adventure, talk of nursing homes, better hydration, walking more or if you want to go home you need help.  Wait for it…she’s in agreement on several of those points.  Nursing home, not so much…she’s more a worker than a spender. The conversations were delicate, the consensus took a bit more than the usual minute but the outcome was worth it.

It has been bitter cold, snowy for a spell but mostly cold. My walking ritual was interrupted and the stir crazies set in much quicker than they ever have.  I’m more a winter person than summer but this is excruciating.

In anticipation of what might have been, and her direct orders, I began poking around in boxes and dressers and cabinets and cubbies at Mom’s tiny apartment. Bring home the jewelry, bring home the coins, give so and so the whatever, make sure you grab the other thing.  Patience, patience patience…which led me to thinking about my house and the interesting annual ritual they have in Sweden called “death cleaning”.  Go through your home as if…  Would you need to place undue burden on your loved ones (aka you know who) after you’re gone?

And so today begins the sorting and purging of papers and blah blah in my own home.  It’s a whirlwind around this little place on Stowe Lane but…definitely worth it…

Patience: what doesn’t kill you.

 

…then there was the time…

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If you sit long enough with a family elder inevitably you will begin to hear “and then there was the time…” something. Some story you may have heard before but listen closely for newly remembered details and ask questions.  Especially the nagging questions.

I had lunch recently with my mother before taking her to her doctor’s appointment.  She’s a fan of MacDonald’s hamburgers and always seems to get talkative when we eat them together.  Just the two of us, no Toti so she’s fully present.

She began by saying, and then there was the time I stayed at Aunt Nettie’s during the summer when she lived on 42nd St (and 3rd Avenue) across from the Church of the Immaculate Conception. She was on the second floor.  We were three in the bed and every night they would light the statue and it would shine in the window and we could see it from the bed. (When recounting this to my sister she immediately confirmed it would freak – her – out.)

The Church is still there but they are all long out of the city.  She went on to say that Aunt Lucy lived on 1st Avenue so they would make tomato and egg sandwiches and have a picnic in the park. “I made myself a tomato and egg sandwich the other day but it wasn’t the same” “I get that, I prefer potato and egg”, to which she stated you’re just like “Your Aunt”.

I knew which Aunt she meant, she never called her by name, she was always “Your Aunt”. Taking the mention, I can’t help myself, I say, speaking of My Aunt is that how I got to go and stay with her in Astoria when I was a kid?  Was it a thing?

I was asking because as much as it’s one of the highlights of my childhood I never understood how it came about.  I figured it was because I was a pain in the ass but she said no. It’s because she never had kids so first it was me (my mother) then it was you. I might have mentioned my sister has a theory…

I have very vivid and fond memories of one of the “sleepovers” but in talking with my mother I didn’t even remember the other one. The timeline seemed odd, the one I remember was in 1965 the other was in 1967.  Ahhh my sister said, “the year everything changed” (you can be pretty sure you’re never going to see a post on that)…is the one my mother remembers most vividly. Interesting on so many levels.

There is insight in the timing but there was more insight in the rest of the conversation. In the end it confirmed the contention that existed between my mother and I and my mother and “My Aunt”.  “She had to take charge, nobody could do anything without asking her (did anyone ever try, no I did not ask that question…) she always knew best, she wanted everyone to be like her, do things her way.”  Oh boy, I’ve lived in that space.  In some ways I still live in that space and ironically my mother won’t make a decision without “asking Sandi first”.

Per my mother she was a pain in the ass, you might have noticed I recognized earlier that I too was a pain in the ass.  But she was important to me, I remember later in her life listening to her lament about being old and not belonging, of not being able to do the things that were so important to her once, like cooking her own meals. Something as seemingly small as a gallon of olive oil being thrown away when she moved from her beloved apartment strickened her. All the while she talked the tears ran down her face.  I remember thinking that no one should have to cry when they get old.

I’m never going to be a mother’s daughter, I think we’ve established that many years ago, and there’s a very good chance that I might turn into “My Aunt” with a kinder edge perhaps.  In this past month of ah-ha moments I’m noticing many of her endearing traits coming out in me. Movement is important, cooking for oneself and enjoying what you eat is important, dancing (even just around your living room), truthfulness with a touch of restraint and empathy (she might have missed that part) is important and living life to the fullest you’re capable is important.  This she did in spite of her regrets and her highhandedness. She’s been gone well over a decade but I have her picture at my desk and discuss things with her often.  There are times I think she’ll answer me and a tiny bit of fear crawls up my neck but that’s ok, I’ve also had that effect on people and in the end the goodness always comes through.

I’m looking forward to more of those ….and then there was the time…moments.

Have a good week and look for the ordinary moments, it’s where legacy lives.

 

Universal Conspiracy

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That moment when the way things unfold equals the universe conspiring in your favor…can stop you in your tracks.

Yesterday Toti Nonna and I got soaked, nearly drowned !!!!! it rained so hard.  Down to our understuff, down to the phone in my pocket.  The jacket wasn’t really meant for rain or its repelability is completely gone. My favorite shoes are still wet a day later.

So I need a new phone and go online and order through our portal.

An iPhone 7.

Denied, we can’t order the 7 we can only order the 6S so I can’t approve this for you.

How blessed am I with a boss that says WE can’t instead of YOU can’t.  And then hurries me along and checks in to insure he can approve in time for me to receive the next day (so far the receive part hasn’t happened).  I barely know him, I barely see or speak with him but I am incredibly grateful for the way he makes his way in the world.

Getting dressed for a business meeting yesterday was a drag but I’m one of the few people who really enjoy my meetings.  My problem was the movement yesterday. It still hurts like hell from Sunday and years of improper movement and the deterioration of neglect. Why did I neglect so many things? Yes I know why but my reclamation has begun. With some bumps and frustrations, a bit of pity and foot stamping but it has begun…

The day before yesterday was not a day to be around me, my aches and pains were thick and my patience was thin.  I had no use for a grown ass woman who can’t ever remember her key.  I really had no use for anything but at the end of the day, the very end of the day all the good started to outweigh the bad. In small ways, like fresh figs and ricotta or a comfortable position on the other end of the couch, or an exceptional visit with Gramma and Toti that brought good news of her coming home. And, yes, even the experts especially the ones I’ve been cursing and second guessing lately.

When you’re an expert, at what point is what you think you know so well no longer the truth.  When someone says something changed yet you continue on.  Do you continue with that expert?  My hesitation, my leeriness aside, I called for an appointment.

When brutal honesty mixed with pain and kindness are put to use, common ground and understanding, even a good laugh, start to emerge.  There is no one or the other cure or care for your condition he says, but there is interim and complimentary care. There is more and better. There are ideas and suggestions and adjustments (literally).  Never once eluding to the fact that this is really all about old age…albeit premature old age…just sayin.

At the end of the day relief comes in a myriad of ways.  A clear mind, a better understanding, common ground, friends whose energy takes over when yours is low and restful sleep. And while my favorite dog walking/gardening shoes may never dry out I am blessed with a universe that is truly conspiring in my favor.  I hold out hope for it all, including the shoes.