On: The People from Our Pasts

I've been thinking a lot about my past. Maybe it's because children always make you reflect on life. Maybe it's because, I often wonder how I got to this place. How I made it to the person I am today. 

It would be a joke to think I'm here today solely on my own merits. 

I'm here, the person I am in the place I'm in, not only because, of who I am inside, but because, of the people who touched my life in the past. 

There have been dozens, maybe hundreds, possibly even thousands of people who have changed the course of my life, just by happenstance. However, I rarely think of them.

 Every once in a while, when major changes happen in my life, I find myself thinking about a girl I used to know. 

We'd grown up in the same town, went to the same high school, and participated in the same activities, but we weren't truly friends until after the thrill of graduation, and the realization that the friends we'd made in school weren't friends who could go the distance. 

After my first marriage deteriorated and I found out I was pregnant, she's the person who drove through the night with me from the bright lights of California to the towering trees and cloudy skies of Washington, to escape the unhealthy situation I'd found myself in. 

Two months later, she held my hand as my body fought to save a baby that didn't have a chance, and I lost my son to a medical mistake. 

She is the person who grabbed me by the heart and forced me to start living life again, when all I felt capable of doing was hiding in the dark and crying. 

 There are hundreds of photos of us together. Moments of our lives captured, frozen in time forever. I have them in a box in the closet. I can pull out a photo and remember the exact moment it was taken. A pretty neat trick considering most of the photos were taken while alcohol was flowing freely, and we weren't feeling any pain. 

During those times, my only plan was to live life without true emotion. To have fun, to smile, to have a good time, but to never dig too deeply into my heart, because that is where the darkness would overcome me. I drank to have fun, I drank to be fun, and I drank to hold off the memories of dreams I'd only begun to have. 

Our party days had to come to an end sometime, and that happened when I eventually opened my heart enough to let it heal. I got married to the Marine, moved to Hawaii, and life slowly began again. 

We maintained our friendship through several moves--from Hawaii to Virginia, but when I finally moved back to the same coast, back this time to California, things changed. 

She had her third child, a son, and I wasn't there for the birth. I hadn't been the first person to hear about the pregnancy, and I found out about the birth weeks after the fact. 

We never had a falling out, never had a blowup of any kind. We just got caught up with our own lives. I wish things could be different, but they're not. Life goes on, and some people aren't supposed to be there forever. Some people have a specific job to do, and once it is done, they move on. 

When I think of her, there is a tinge of sadness for the memories of long ago, but there is mostly happiness. 

Happiness, because of the life I have now. The choices she helped me make. The adventures we had that led me to where I was supposed to be. 

I only hope, I helped her as much as she helped me. 

R.S.

Do you have someone from your past that you think fondly of? I'd love to hear the story.

On the Return of My UPS Delivery Guy

I order a lot of things from Amazon. There are certain times of the year (Christmas, birthdays, and whenever I've come up with a new project--writing or otherwise) that it's not unusual for a new package to come several times a week.

Wow, that just makes me sound like a crazy shopaholic, which I'm really not. I swear.

Anyway, I've been spoiled since we moved to the desert, and I've got a nice understanding with the UPS delivery guy. He always rings my doorbell and places my package in my hands, or if it's heavy brings it into the house and places it out of the way. If I'm not home, he'll leave the package at the backdoor of my house so it's not visible from the road.

Recently, however, this stopped happening.

My UPS guy had disappeared, and in his place were a handful of unexceptional delivery guys who'd drop the package on the doorstep (and if they even bothered to ring the bell, ran away like the hounds of Hell were on their heels). Sometimes, the packages weren't even making it all the way to the door, but would be left half way down the walkway, as if by stepping closer than one hundred feet they would be guaranteed an early demise. I'm really not that scary. At least not usually, and rarely to the UPS guys.

This change was undeniably annoying to me.

Plus, I was a little concerned for my friendly guy in brown. Each time there was a new guy, I wondered if maybe my guy in brown had retired. It wasn't like he was a young guy. I'd venture to guess he is anywhere between 60-70 years old. Though, I admit I'm horrible with correctly telling age.

It made me sad to think about.

When you live in the middle of nothing, and you're not exactly the social butterfly, seeing the same delivery person is like seeing an old friend.

Don't knock familiarity.

Especially with the sanctity of Amazon packages. They're like the Holy Grail, Excalibur, and the lost city of Atlantis all wrapped up in a wonderful brown box. ( I really love Amazon. Do you think there's a twelve step program for that?)

Then the other day, I was pleasantly surprised when the doorbell rang, and there he was. Huge Amazon box in hand. It turns out he was on vacation, and the other guys being only temporary, were uncomfortable getting too close because around here they've been getting attacked. (By dogs, not just the lonely ladies who normally attack them because of those brown shorts--and the Amazon packages they carry.)

Aside from the disgust with people purposely setting their dogs loose to attack the UPS and USPS workers (Where is the world heading, I ask). All is once again right with my little slice of the world.

What are your experiences with UPS, USPS, FedEx, etc?

On Preparing for the Holidays

It seems like I've been baking since November. 

Oh, that's right. I have been.

It's called the preparing for the holidays. Something I feel like I've fallen behind on.

Who decided it was a good idea to have two holidays filled with baking, so close together? They sure didn't discuss it with me. I'd have offered June as a good month for one of them.

This is the first year I've gotten into the Spirit in years. It's a nice feeling. We're actually trying to create family customs and memories (even though the Marine isn't here to participate). 

That would explain the lack of writing I've managed to accomplish. 

Oh well, the writing will be there later, right? The Munchkin won't be this young forever, and I don't want to miss out on making Applesauce and cinnamon ornaments with her while she still likes me. 

I'm off to continue the baking. It's a never ending process, I tell ya.

I hope this week has found you happy, joyful, and in the Spirit of giving. 

May your Christmas be Merry and filled with all the love and excitement you could want. 

Season's Greetings,

R.S.

On the 'State' of Happiness

So, this morning I read this blog post, and thought I'd give my own spin on it.

I've been part of the military my entire life, in one form or another. The funny thing is, I barely remember the moves, because my father actually retired from the Navy when I was a little older than what the Munchkin is now.

When my father retired we headed to his home state of Washington, and moved into the only home I remember. Now, there are flickers of memory from previous places, but they're pretty fuzzy from the passage of time. They don't really count.

We arrived in that little town in the Pacific Northwest just in time for me to begin first grade in the fall of 1988. I was lucky as far as the life of a military brat was concerned. I attended school with most of the same people from '88 until I graduated in 2000.

I wasn't moved around at random intervals like my sister was--she had to start all over again during her junior year in high school--and because of this I didn't seem to have the wanderlust that other people did. I didn't dream of backpacking through Europe, or flying off to the Middle East. I was content. Happy.

Kind of.

Then I hit my 20's and the wanderlust appeared. Not like it did in everyone else, but in a subtle way I didn't really notice. Between the ages of 20 and 24 I moved every six months. Not out of state or out of country, just to different places around the county.

In March of 2005, my brand spankin' new husband of a month--the Marine--had orders to Hawaii, and for the first time ever I was leaving the Continental U.S. Since then we've moved four times and lived in three different states.

I've still never been to a foreign country.

And my wanderlust is great.

I can't stay in one place for longer than two years without getting that 'itch' to move. I start getting antsy, and I start hating everything about the place I live. In the case of the desert, it's become a physical thing. I've NEVER had allergies, but in the last eighteen months I've not only acquired them, but they've set out to murder me.

Forget itchy, watery, or dry eyes. Forget sinus pressure. Bring on the allergy induced asthma!

That's right.

Why do something half-assed like boring sinus pressure, when you can go big and hyperventilate from a lack of oxygen? While doing nothing more strenuous than sitting on the couch? Or even better--sleeping.

Anyway, like the above mentioned blog, I've often wondered if it's where I am that depends on my happiness level.

Will I be at this level of happiness no matter where I'm at? Is there some place I'd be happier?

I know that while living in Washington I was never happy. That didn't become obvious until after I moved away, then it was so obvious I didn't know how I'd missed it for so long.

It turns out, that I'm at my 'happiest' or at least the 'happiest I know', when I'm some place sunny.

I don't do well with gray and dreary days filled with clouds and rain.

I 'thrive' in my own way, when it is sunny and bright.

It could be negative four out and as long as it's sunny I wouldn't care--though on a side note, I'm not a fan of extreme temperatures in either direction.

There isn't a particular 'state' I've found that I'm happiest in, and maybe that state doesn't exist. I know it's time to move again (even though a part of me would really like to buy a house and put down roots). Someday maybe I'll even get to a foreign country.

In my mid-twenties I believed Ireland was the place I needed to be.

Maybe it is.

Where is the place you're happiest? Have you found it yet?

R.S.

On A Happy Thought

Life isn't always kind and things won't always go our way, but realize that whatever happens will make you stronger. It will lead you where you need to go and open doors you might not have seen otherwise. 

Keep your head up.  

In the words of Gary Allen, "Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride."

R.S.

On "This"

What's tickling my Muse? "This" By Darius Rucker


Today's post goes along with one I posted earlier.

"For every stoplight I didn't make,

Every chance I did or didn't take.

All the nights I went too far,

All the girls that broke my heart.

All the doors that had to close,

All the things I knew but I didn't know.

Thank God for all I missed,

Cause it led me here to this."

                                                                                             --This--

We've all made decisions in our lives. Made one choice over the other. I know I have. I made the decision to marry my husband, made the decision to follow him from duty station to duty station, zig zagging across not only the Continental U.S., but Hawaii as well. 

I chose to give up the party life, chose to go back to school, and chose to finally follow the dreams I set aside so long ago. 

Every decision I've made has led me right here. 

To this.

I don't regret a thing.

Isn't music great? 

R.S.

On Building the Future

What's tickling my ears? Eminem: Cleaning Out My Closet

There are days when I seriously wonder what the future is going to be.

Not my future, but the future of my child and her peers.

Whitney Houston once sang that she believed our 'children are the future'.

If that is truly the case, shouldn't each parent strive to give their children every possible benefit they'd need to make their, and in turn our, future strong and bright?

Why is it then, so many children go without the proper love and guidance they so desperately want and require?

Why is it harder to get a driver's license than it is to become a parent?

Why are there so many child abusers getting away with bruising their children both physically and mentally?

 Why is it still so hard to protect the innocents from the horrors, and traumatic experiences they suffer at the hands of an abusive mother, father or caregiver?

Abuse and neglect come in many forms. You never have to lift a hand to your child to injure them, to beat them. All it takes is casual disregard or negative words, and it can be as damaging as a physical slap.

The worth of a true parent doesn't have to come from what you can buy your child, but from what you give them of yourself.

Your time, patience, love, understanding, and forgiveness.

A true parent puts their child's wants and needs before their own.

Take this story for instance.

"I don't know what to do, Jess. Val's been acting up, not listening, and I'm at the end. I can't deal with it anymore."


Jess sighed. She'd heard this before. "Why don't you let her come here for the summer. She could stay with her uncle and I, and you could have some time to relax."


"It's just too expensive to buy a plane ticket. We can't do that."


She logged onto her laptop and brought up a site specializing in inexpensive flights. "A round trip ticket is only two hundred dollars. I'll cover half, and it won't be so bad. It's what's best for your daughter. She'll have responsibility, and a chance to be away for a while. It won't be a vacation, but you'll both get the space you need."


"No... We can't afford that. She'll just have to get over her attitude. Her father and I are going to buy a new seventy-two inch flat screen, entertainment center, and surround sound soon. It's more important for us to put away that hundred bucks than waste it on a ticket for that ungrateful brat."


Too often parents consider it more important to have the newest, most exciting and expensive toys, than to put that want off until their children were happier, healthier, or safer.

This behavior isn't the only sign of bad parenting.

Bad parenting also appears when you show negativity towards your child. Calling them stupid, or dumb, or worthless--it's abuse, and eventually will have an equally negative affect on the child.

Nobody is a perfect parent, but being a positive role model who puts their children's happiness and well being before their own needs and wants is a good start.

Showing you love them, and making sure you say the words is just as important as providing a roof over their heads, and enough food to nourish their bodies.

I love you.

Three little words.

Powerful. Healing. Empowering.

As long as you truly mean them and back them up with your actions.

Every day I make sure I tell my daughter I love her. I make sure she gets hugs and kisses whenever possible, and no matter what, I never show negative actions towards her. She will never hear anything except loving and positive words from me.

She will get every opportunity to thrive in a happy and loving environment, to become the best she can be. No matter what that is.

I believe my daughter is the future.

I will teach her and let her lead the way.

I will give her all the love she needs to go out on her own and be strong.

She will never have to walk in anyone's shadow.

She will never have to be afraid to talk to me, because she will know she is loved.

Love your children, and teach them how to love themselves and others.

It's the greatest gift of all.


R.S.


**I am not a psychologist, but I am a parent. I may not have a fancy degree, but I know what it feels like to not be shown love...and what it feels like to show it to my daughter.

On Today's Happiness

I find that I spend a lot of time thinking about what I want to blog about, and half the time nothing I come up with seems interesting enough.

Today, while I was contemplating a topic, I realized something.

 I'm happy.

 Yes, it's still relatively early to most people, though I've been awake since six--just like everyday when my three year old daughter/personal alarm clock, wakes up, but to me it's well toward 'mid-day'.

I'm feeling good about myself, and with myself (and yes, there is a difference).

 

I have an amazing daughter who even when she's driving me batty, is  still the most amazing person in my life. I've got great friends who love me, even though they're hundreds of miles away; family who loves me--both those who live with me, and those who also live their daily lives in various states across the country.

I'm happy.

I'm happy, because I realized all the choices in my life have led me here.

Right here.

To this day.

To this blog post.

To this city in the middle of the desert that most people have never even heard of, let alone visited.

Every bad decision, painful experience, emotionally dark period, and wonderful highlight, has led me to the person I am today.

A mother, a wife, a writer, a photographer, a friend, and a confidant.

I'm not the world traveler I someday want to be, and I haven't been published...yet, but all of those are on my personal horizon.

If I had a chance to go back and change anything in my past... any of the horrible experiences, the loss of innocence, the dark days after the death of my son, the heartbreak I wasn't sure I'd survive... I wouldn't change it.

Why?

Because I wouldn't be where I am, who I am, or what I am today.

Today wouldn't be... today.

Life is a precious, precious thing. Don't take it for granted, and don't regret the experiences in your past. Always remember who you were, where you came from, and who was there to help you along...

R.S.