Hell-ish

With the excitement of the apocalypse over, I suppose I don't have a good reason not to march onward with the Thirty Days. I haven't wanted to write this entry, but I've reached Day 8:

Someone who made your life hell
Perhaps the irony of my answer is that this person isn't really IN my life at all. In fact, my sister, the cardiac patient, has fought and kicked and sworn and slammed doors to kick me OUT of her life.

At the same time, I'm working through counseling and some of the things that come up go waaaaaay back to when we were little. I have unanswerable questions about how her birth and traumatic health problems began a pattern of independence and self-reliance that really wasn't appropriate. Attachment disorders, self-esteem issues, control problems. How much stems from the fact that I was the older, healthy child who didn't "need" attention the way the sick baby did?

She is incredible in her tenacity, though. She's more than doubled any life expectancy every given to her. She is the sole surviving patient who had a particular Fontan procedure done - it was discontinued because of complications later in life. She pursued a double-major at Northwestern University, despite needing pace-makers and repeated surgeries.

She's also gotten herself in a whole mess of trouble and she is on my mind a lot...mostly wondering if she's even alive, let alone safe. There's nothing I can do for her but have faith that she is where she needs to be in the Grand Scheme.

*sigh* I don't blame her, nor do I blame my parents. There is no fault for the complications of a disabled sibling. It's just hard...sometimes hell-ish.

End of the World?

Merry Solstice! The precise midpoint is 11:12 UTC on 12-21-12. Mayans declared this the end of their calendar, and there are many "End of the World" parties tonight. Some experts have said rather than being predictive of anything profound, the completion of those 1,872,000 days is more a matter of bookkeeping.

1,872,000 days. That's a lotta days to forecast. At some point, your accuracy must get a little less...um...accurate, and that is pretty much the answer for this calendar. This is like the odometer of your car turning over. It doesn't stop running when it goes from 999999 to 00000. In fact, the Mayans not only did not leave any trace of doomsday theory, but they wrote down some dates for events beyond the end of the great calendar cycle.

The prophecy is one of optimism. It is the time of Pachokuti (pacha means earth or time; kudi means the end of, or to step outside of), the one who brings an era to a close. [Note: Pachoduke build Machu Picchu and expanded the Inka Empire to a territory larger than the United States.] Some have suggested that this is the end of humanity's self-absorbed focus, that we are about to evolve into Homo luminous.

This does not mean that there will be no labor pains in birthing a new humanity. Alberto Villoldo states, "We have to dedicate ourselves to becoming comfortable with our shadows as well as our light, healing the wars within us a best we can so that all of humanity can heal and evolve." Each of us must play a part in becoming the Pachakuti. We can choose to evolve into Homo luminous. Imagine whom you want to be.

First Rude, then Beloved

I have mentioned my friend, Rude13, a few times on here. He's been a friend pretty much as long as I have known Beloved, was a long-time housemate, and is Boy's godfather. He is also an artist. I own a couple of his early works.

Recently, he undertook a challenge. Thirty landscapes in thirty days. Personally, a thirty day challenge of ANYTHING is tough. I mean, really...all I am trying to do is type on the computer and I haven't managed to complete a challenge on time. To do it in an artistic medium? In paint?!?

I'm not an artist, but I have played with paints a little. It's not as easy as it looks. Some of these are really fantastic! Take a look!


Speaking of the 30 Day...here is my 7th day on the Truth List.
Someone who has made your life worth living for

Is it any surprise that I name Beloved? No? *chuckles* Well, it shouldn't be.
When I met Beloved, I was dating another guy...but it wasn't a good place. My boyfriend had gotten involved with other things and in my desperation to regain his attention, I was starving myself to get skinny. I was wear clothes I wasn't particularly comfortable with. I was working retail and in full teenage-angst with my dad. I was taking A&P and doing human dissection, and typically reeked of BioPerm or Quat, depending on the day.

On Tuesday, March 14, 1995 my study partner invited me to join her at a cafe for a "double date", mine being blind. If you ask him, Beloved will tell you that when I stepped through the door, he decided he was *going* to meet me. For my part, I nervously glanced around the crowded room, found my partner, and glanced at the guys at the table. Approaching, Beloved and J stood up, taking my hand and kissing it, introducing themselves.

They were best friends with long hair, black leather jackets, combat boots, and wickedly romantic. By the end of the evening, we were playing mancala with sugar cubes and deciding when to get together again.

By the end of the second get-together, I was thoroughly smitten with Beloved. J was very sweet and IS a fantastic friend, but the sparks were sharp and brilliant with Beloved. *wry smile* My study partner never forgave me. Ah well.

Beloved took to catching me after my lab, stealing my book, car keys, etc. and refused to give them back until he had WATCHED me eat. As the spring wore on, I found bouquets of violets on my windshield in the FULL parking lot. We'd lay in the new grass and chase the goslings when they got too close. By the end of April, I told my boyfriend I was leaving him. By November, Beloved had asked me to marry him.

It's been seventeen years, and the more things change, the more I realize what a gift I have in my soulmate. No one in my life has questioned me so little, accepted me so much, and made me laugh and smile more. Even in the worst times, even when I have screamed and fought and pushed him away, he hasn't given up on me. He values my input, yet tucks me in to bed like a child. Without a doubt, he has made it possible for me to wade through the dark days and helped me fly on the bright days. I wish I could give every person what Beloved has given to me.

Never again...

Something you hope you never have to do

I hope I never have to choose between evils.

Sure, there are lots of times that we don't like the choices that are presented, but they aren't truly evil. I hope that I never face the desperation of choosing between options that I will regret for the rest of my life. I already carry a taste of that burden in my heart, and I hope to never, ever face it again.

Hope

Hey...remember, I was working on a 30 Day thingy! I find myself sitting in a house with dirty dishes, a mountain of laundry to fold, and Christmas decor that needs attention...so, what the heck! I'll blog!

Something you hope to do in your life.

"Life is not measured by the moments of breath you take, but by the breath taking moments."

I want to live recklessly, to let go and fly high. I want to create the breath-taking moments, cherish them, share them. I want to make a difference in this world, one that I can look back at as I wander out of this life and nod sagely, and say, yes, I made that difference.

I used to think that it might be something huge, like becoming the first female priest in the Catholic Church (yes, that was in fact one of my goals, once) or curing cancer. I grew up a bit and thought maybe I'd make a difference by running for office or otherwise investing myself in politics. I evolved into a kinky-poly person and presented a few times, and thought maybe I'd be a sex activist of some sort. I became a mother and I wonder if the difference I will make in the world is in the life of children...mine, in particular.

Deep down inside, I am not satisfied with what I have accomplished so far. It isn't that the works I have done, the ideas I have put into the Universe are not of value or don't make a difference...it is simply that I am not fulfilled. I have not found the core calling for my existence yet. Still...there is something out there waiting for me, and when I find it, it will change everything.

Terror

A friend posted on Facebook that she was afraid to drop her kindergartener off at school today. The terror of the school attacks in Newtown, CT and Chengping, China on Friday, as well as the reports of averted attacks in Indiana and Oklahoma, are indeed heart-wrenching.

Still, I don't know how to respond. Am I a bad parent because it honestly didn't even cross my mind as I made Boy's lunch this morning? Am I a bad person for believing that we are ALL at fault for allowing a community to develop where such things are possible? Am I jaded and cold to say that life will go on and that I doubt much will change for the better?

Terrorists will continue to chip away at our communities, and they will continue to win. They are adept at finding weak points and exploiting them. They make us weak through isolation, encouraging us to shutter our windows and lock our doors.

People are afraid of their neighbors. Every thing we do is on surveillance because we don't trust anyone. The crusade for democracy abroad, largely unsuccessful in its own right, has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state -- with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining, nano-second biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling "the homeland."

People are afraid of immigrants and foreigners. What happened to the Land of Opportunity? Where is the "melting pot"? I have friends who have come to the US of A to learn, and they have shared their difficulties in finding housing because they are from Italy or Canada or Israel and have an accent. I know people who are afraid of visiting ME in my home because there are billboards printed in other languages.

The lives lost are a tragedy. I, too, have lost loved ones and I know that mourning goes on through the rest of your life. However, we do not have to allow the losses to cripple us. Instead of being sad or angry because of what has happened, reach out. It is our connections and our willingness to be open to each other that makes us strong! If everyone knew the names of every person on their block, how much stronger, how much MORE could we do?

Association and causation

There is a difference between 'cause' and 'association'. Consider the example of a correlation between increased ice cream sales and violent crimes.

The ice cream sales (or consumption of ice cream) is not the cause of the increased violent crime rates, though. Both are caused by higher temperatures, and in reality have nothing to do with each other.

You can test associations to see if they are causal fairly easily with two questions.
* Does the presumed cause precede the effect?
* Does removal of a presumed cause lead to a reduction in the risk?

Obviously, if you banned ice cream in the summer, there would still be increased violent crime. There is no causation between the two.

All well and good. My question is am I simply perceiving an association between an increase of nightmares/sick kids/rough nights and the nights that Beloved is gone? Or is there a causation involved?

*sigh*

Alzheimer's and cancer

Okay sports fans, I got into an academic mode and my brain is ready to explode. Are you ready?

Alzheimer's disease and cancer are basically the same thing!
That is the theory I would like to suggest to the medical researchers of the world. Since not everyone is a total nerd like me, I'll try to start at the beginning. Let me know what you think.

FACTS:
Normal cells, regardless of function, reproduce by duplicating their DNA and then splitting in half. This process is called mitosis, and it is controlled by operons, a cluster of genes within the DNA. While the DNA is usually replicated exactly, sometimes a mutation occurs.

MY THEORY:
In cancer, the mutations occur within the operons that are supposed to regulate cell replication and growth. They get stuck in the "ON" position, causing the cells to replicate without purpose. They no longer specialize as "colon" cells, "prostate" cells, "brain" cells because they are forced to replicate too quickly. The result is a mass of tissue we call cancer.

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In Alzheimer's, it is a little different. Things like brain growth, high stress, and cholesterol transportation encourage the brain to make amyloid beta proteins. The astrocytes (star-like cells you probably associate with nerve cells) are usually able to "eat" these proteins and there is no problem. In Alzheimer's patients, there are lots of "amyloid plaques"...hard clusters of the amyloid beta protein that did not break down...and "tangles"...neurons that are tangled up with protein pieces.

MY THEORY:
Like any other cell, neurons reproduce and mutations can occur. With Alzheimer's, the mutation again strikes the operons, but instead of cell replication, it is the protein regulators that get stuck "ON". Too much of the amyloid and tau proteins are produced and the astrocytes are unable to keep up. The result is the development of plaques and tangles, which cause the symptoms we call Alzheimer's disease.
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Note the similarities...My theory is that in both cancer and Alzheimer's, the error occurs at a point mutation in a regulatory operon. The exact function of the operon affected is different, which is why you see different diseases, but the basis for BOTH problems is mutated operon DNA.

There IS some exciting cross-over being done with cancer drugs used to treat Alzheimer's...and guess what?! There are promising results! To me, that strengthens my argument that they are the same problem, just in different areas.

I have not found anyone who has labeled Alzheimer's as a form of cancer, but I think it should be. Unfortunately, I am just a housewife with a lot of time and (out-of-date) education. I don't really know where I should take this idea. *chuckles* I shared it with my therapist, and she said "if you came up w/ this w/o a google search, i think your analytical skills are superior. no wonder why you need to dumb down your resume."

grrrr. Somehow, that isn't helpful.

Eye of the storm

Thank all the lords and ladies above, today was mostly quiet.

BaconFest went well. It was a smaller crowd than we've had the last couple of years, and all but two dishes were savory rather than sweet. My experiment with Bacon Jam tied Beloved's Bacon and Kale Adobo for third place. Once again, my ice cream wasn't ready. *sigh* I simply HAVE to get started on this stuff sooner! Nighthawk decided I was too stressed and worked out some knots, which was wonderful...no drool, so not over the top, but I was grateful for the work. He and I have contemplated a playdate to see how far he can push my masochistic massage fetish. Over all, though, it was a delightful afternoon.

As soon as the guests left and Beloved disappeared to play games, I wandered off to take a hot bath. The respite allowed me to come back and even play some Dominion later in the evening. Feed the introvert and be rewarded. hmmmm....

Sunday morning, Beloved pushed us all through chores. While I wasn't excited about it, I am extremely grateful. The whole second floor got scrubbed, the kitchen was tackled (and after BaconFest, that's a huge mess!), and I ran lots of laundry. For the afternoon, Beloved took the kids out so I could work on the scrapbook. *smiles* He went to the mall with his facepaints and did kids' faces for four hours for free. "Just another parent who appreciated the challenge and wants to spread some joy" was what he told people. He was brimming and overflowing Sunday evening.

Monday was hectic. I tried to work on the scrapbook, but Girl was insistent on participating. I shared what I could, but it's a paying JOB! We got frustrated with each other, my anxiety over not finished skyrocketed. The afternoon was shot...missed swim lessons because we were running late, ended up going out for dinner because I didn't make anything (and to bribe the kids into forgiving me for the missed swim). Blech!

I took it out in my workout, though. I burned 900 calories and walked out feeling much better...enough to tackle the last pages and FINISH scrapbook! I am very happy with the final results. I may not be a professional scraper, but the pages were all fun, unique, and not just photos stuck on a page. I am, however, very glad to have the project done and off my plate. I turned it over this morning.

Girl and I both took naps, which helped, and despite the fail on picking up Boy (why do sibs HAVE to pick at each other ALL THE TIME?), I wasn't frazzled making dinner. Baked Eggplant Parmesan that came in at 97 calories/slice. Awesome!

I need to clean up the kitchen and take out the trash, but I am happy about the day.

It's the eye of the storm, though. Tomorrow, everything returns to reckless calendar chaos. Every. Single. Day. Though Sunday is at least double-booked. *face plant* When will I learn???

One of THOSE days

Good grief!

Okay, maybe it's more accurate to say "one of those weeks"...

I've been feeling tired, moody, grouchy lately. On Wednesday, that all came to a head, and I found myself falling asleep behind the wheel driving Boy home from school. It's like a 6 mile drive, so yeah, I was tired. Fortunately, Beloved was home early because of his own doctor's appointment. I walked in at 3:30 and was tucked into bed by 4pm. I didn't wake up until 9:30 the next morning. Seriously, I slept for 18 hours.

I felt great when I woke up, I guess I just needed some major catch-up! Got through the day, made dinner, got everyone to the gym to eat and then split up again...Beloved dropped the kids in childcare so he could do yoga while I burned up the treadmill and did my nutrition class. The second half of my workout didn't go so well...I got a stitch in my side that became a screaming-hot-poker-OUCH when I tried to do a leg-lift set. An ovarian cyst rupture, and boy-howdy! I did a little stretching out, but it was minor torture to get out of the building. I got home and just sat on the couch next to Beloved, not moving, for an hour. I was done in at 10pm (despite the crazy sleep from ealier!) and went to bed with some Ibprofen.

By midnight, I was up again, tired and aching. I ended up on the couch, snuggling with my cats. Beloved came to check on me at some point, but I didn't wake up enough to go back to bed.

This morning started out alright...I was a little groggy and my usual slow wake-up self, but managed. Girl and I spent most of the day running errands. We went to the pet store and looked at ALL the various critters and picked out some presents for the kitties. We went to Target to grab lunch, and then ended up in the bargain section where she lined up all the plastic dinosaurs - TRexes against brachiosaurus - and earned a lot of smiles and chuckles. We went grocery shopping. We picked up a snack and picked up Boy and got home.

And I'm wiped out! oiy!

Most of the groceries are put away, but Girl managed to dump one of the craft bins in the Great Room. Boy has TWO BAGS of school work in the kitchen, but he did clean up the HexBugs in his room (I think). I called in the cavalry...Beloved is picking up tacos for dinner, ShadoKnight and Einhander are come over to yank the house into order...

TOMORROW IS BACONFEST!

I have my recipes...but...shhhhhhh! They are yet untried! GAH! Definitely one of those...

Pain

How can people be so heartless
How can people be so cruel
Easy to be hard
Easy to be cold

How can people have no feelings
How can they ignore their friends
Easy to be proud
Easy to say no

A friend is hurting, surprised by a betrayal that sadly comes as no surprise to me or Beloved. There is very little I can offer, but what I can, I have...

Role reversal

Something you have to forgive someone for.
We are all guilty of petty insults. Some of these get blown up and out of proportion by a grudge factor, and what should have been a minor scuffle becomes a rift in time and space.

In her "Innocence Maintained," Jewel write, to be forgiven, we must first believe in sin. Can I forgive someone for something they don't believe is wrong? Or something that really wasn't their fault? Or something that I had a significant role in? Harder still, can I truly forgive the trespasses against me? Can I forgive, and mean it in the core of myself?

*sigh* There is a decision that Beloved and I made years ago that has become a chaffing bitter agony, and I want to forgive it. I want to make it better, but I don't know how. In March, 2006 he was offered a position in an entrepreneur. It was headed by the guy who brought bar code scanners into grocery stores, and held challenge and promise. We were hopeful...convinced?...that if it did what was expected, it would set us up for life. It came with an immediate salary over mine. I told him to go for it.

That decision reversed our roles for life.

Instead of following a career in politics and policy, I became a suburban stay-at-home mom. Over the years, I have fallen further and further from involvement or even interest in the comings and goings. I have lost nearly all my contacts and my most recent references would probably have to pause and think...who? Oh...yeah...um...sure, she did a good job...

Years of schooling, multiple degrees and certifications, published reports and authored bills...all gathering dust or buried under the laundry. It hurts...it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. My ideals shattered, my goals surrendered to foster my children's dreams. My confidence and cockiness melted down to nothing.

In my darkest moments, I hate Beloved for it.

He has risen like the sun in the company, achieving C-level titles, excellent references, awesome exposures. He has negotiated with Fortune 500 companies and collected praise for his innovative approaches in everything...from software prototypes to managing unmanageable people. He has never shirked from home duties. He is a fantastic father, a loving husband, a devoted man. He is the one you want when you are in a pickle barrel.

In my darkest moments, I hate him for that, too.

It isn't his fault. I had equal say in the decision to leave my career. I insisted on the values of a stay-at-home parent. I investigated homeschooling and park district classes and opportunities and exposure for the kids. They are strong-willed, smart, creative, and empathetic individuals. They are the future, and they are my magnum opus.

When we started on this journey of parenting, we did so with open eyes and reasonable planning. Nonetheless, there is no way of knowing how absolutely life-changing children are. Beloved and I both have struggled with the challenges, regretted and resented the responsibilities we accepted. It is a partnership, though. Always, it is a partnership.

In my darkest moments, I forget that. I need to forgive Beloved for something he never did. I need to forgive him for my reminiscing, my present frustrations, and my uncertain future. I need to forgive him for myself.

Forgiveness

Something you have to forgive yourself for

Imperfection might be a cop-out, but it is the background for so many ills in my life. If I were more accepting that I am not perfect, that I cannot BE perfect, perhaps maybe... what?

Sins of my imperfection have cost me friendships, lovers, opportunities, peace of mind. I dwell on what parting words have been said and I ache; so much is owed. If I claimed responsibility for being wrong, would it make things right? I don't know. If I shared the responsibility, would the other side acknowledge their errors too? I'm afraid of being at fault, of failing. When I am wrong...when I am right...the cost is so high.

What does this imagined perfection look like?
It has changed. The things I would bargain for range from miracles to passing scores on math quizzes to obsessing over home-baked goods and a sparkling home. Mostly, perfection is in the appreciated smile, the pat on the head, the "well done!" or "good girl!" Is it so much to ask for? How much do I need to do to garner that perfection?

What would it be like to not carry the burden of this imagined perfection?
*sigh* Ironically, it would probably be better than it is now. I get so overwhelmed and wrapped up in the imagined image that I cannot achieve anything close in reality, so why even try? How many times have I rolled up my sleeves, walking into a room, only to have my shoulders slump and turn around and admit defeat without lifting a finger.

So...yes...if I could forgive myself one thing, it would be that I am imperfect.

It's Beloved's BIRTHDAY!

Thirty-eight years ago, Beloved was born.

He was the answer to a prayer of a couple longing for a child and a congregation who gathered around them in a small church in Iowa. He is named "gift from God," and he is indeed a miracle in the life of all he touches.

For half of my life, he has been my north star, my guiding light. He has steadied me and carried me, berated me and cheered me. I have screamed and pleaded that I am not worthy, and he shakes his head, hugs me close, gives me tissue to blow my nose, and tucks me into bed.

I am so sorry that we have fought as much as we have this last year. I'm so sorry that the transitions in our lives have come on choppy waves. I hope that in the coming year, we find the treasures washed up by the turbulence. God knows, we could use it!

I think it is fitting that today's prompt is something that will make Beloved smile.

Something you love about yourself.
I love my thirst for knowledge. I love learning, whether it is delving into medical journals or watching our kids discover some new thing that we adults take for granted. I love scouring the news or stumbling across a good recipe. I love sharing the tidbits and discussing theologies.

I love that I am still learning, every day, how much I am loved by those who choose to hold me dear in their lives. Someday, I hope that I will accept this without doubt as the truth that it is.

Prompting

The usual report...it's been really rough around the edges lately. *sigh* Another round of manic energy. Another blow-up with Beloved that had us both in tears. Another desperate review of life that ended with no answers. I wish I could just hibernate until spring.

Since I can't and I need something besides blahs to focus on, I'm pulling up the old prompting again.

I've done this one before, but the truth bears repeating because it changes.

Something I Hate About Myself
Right now, the something that is most hurtful, most detrimental to progress is my reliance on others for a sense of value. It isn't that I lack for people who cheer me on, but that I hear the negative comments more loudly than the positive ones. Worse, I hold on to those negative comments, clinging to them as proof that I am worthless. Even comments made in jest and misinterpreted by ME can scar my spirit and fester in my soul.

I don't know how to stop this...how to let go of the echoes...how to forgive myself and make peace with my imperfection. I can't be everything to everyone.

This might be my child-self still trying to negotiate for my mom to get better: "if I am good enough, then she'll get better." Maybe, despite everything that had happened, part of me is still hoping for that promise. I don't know how to reconcile that. What do you say to an 8-year old kid who is desperate for a miracle? What do you say to a 36-year old woman who cries because she doesn't believe in the Tooth Fairy any more?

I want to believe. I want to have faith that it WILL get better. If only I knew what I had to do...if only I made everyone happy...if only I was enough...