An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

The other night, my girl in England hadn't eaten so, despite the late hour, she was out looking for food. She is alone in London right now as her partner is on a hiking trip in Sweden. At a corner she stops and yields to a car. The car slows and a person hangs out the window and says, "Sorry mate". Then, with a BB gun, he shoots her in the chest about 5 times and speeds off. She's not hurt but I wonder how long it took her to register what had just happened. I wonder how much time it took to verify that it was, and I use this term loosely, a harmless BB gun and not something else. Did she look down expecting blood?  She went home and reported the occurrence to the police via the internet, not speaking to a human. No one to say that you are alright. The mother in me wanted someone to tell her she's alright. The mother in me envisioned a different scene, one that I don't want to write about. With the daily news of hate and ugliness here at home, I saw a differen

It’s a cool morning. I’m sitting in a parking lot, preparing myself for the workday, listening to the podcast On Being with Krista Tippett interviewing Ross Gay, professor/poet. It’s titled Tending Joy and Practicing Delight.  As I listen, a light blue minivan, dented and well used, drives to my right. He’s going slow which catches my attention. It’s good to be cautious and aware of our surroundings so I am definitely watching. Oddly, he’s driving all over the parking lot. I wondered if he was just learning to drive and practicing in a safe spot. After awhile he gets very close as he passes. His window is open. He’s on a mission and does not notice me at all. He is tossing out  bread with a joyful smile on his face. He’s feeding the birds and he is pleased. Finishing up, he drives away. All over the parking lot are happy crows having breakfast.  I can’t help but feel fortunate to watch this transaction. Without even realizing it, I was tending joy and practicing delight right along wit

During my time alone today I thought about how being a mom has been the best thing I have ever experienced. It has been the most connective and rewarding adventure in my life. And yet, it has not come without the usual complications and then a little extra. As I contemplated the past 35 years, some of the things I am most proud of, memories started to creep in. And then, a memory that was nestled between the face of my childhood librarian who looked a lot like Beverly Cleary and the young man, whose name completely escaped me now, that had professed his love for me when I was 15, came forth. I'd rather not go into details. With the conveniently forgotten memory came that feeling. You know the one. That feeling that makes one feel small, unworthy and threatening to overshadow any good you've ever done. It renders the positive mute. The familiar feeling of shame came bursting out. My first instinct was to GET RID OF IT! I wanted to text the kids and bring the occasion to the fore

Today was one of my days off from work. I was enjoying myself in the garden until I remembered I hadn't put the prescription ear drops in. Going inside, I started looking around for them. They weren't in my purse, or in the bathroom or on the kitchen sink. Frustrated with myself, I start to look around and finally found the bottle, if one could still call it a bottle, in the middle of the giant dog bed, with tiny puncture wounds all over it. Of course, it was empty.  I find the package insert and it says if taken by mouth "call the doctor". So I did. I called into my office and let them know my pup had consumed at least some of the bottle of  Ofloxacin. They checked with their resident expert on medications. She got on the phone with me and asked a few questions but assured me there was not enough to worry about. "Great! Thanks", I say to her. And then she says, "Well, have we learned anything from this?". I was a little surprised and just said, &q

Yesterday morning I was reading the news. It was early. I felt the Boy Scout roll over in bed and he said to me, "I already fed Scruffy". That interaction, so small, so very unimportant and uninteresting, made my heart squeeze and I caught my breath. I heard him. For the first time in years I was able to hear a normal voice, understand it fully and process it instantly-WITHOUT ANY HEARING AIDS. Now, that my not sound like much to the average Jill or Joe but it was huge. The packing in my ear moves around a bit, mutating what comes inside and sometimes making strange noises, echoes and muffles. At that moment in time the sentence was clear and precise. Could it have been louder? Sure, but it was loud enough. Hopefully we keep going in the same direction. I am thrilled.

As my wonderful circle of crones shared their wisdom, I listened.  Never underestimate wise, discerning women and what they know intuitively in their minds, hearts and bodies. And at our best, we not only use our foresight and insight to lift up those around us up but we apply it to our own life too.  I did talk to my girl. I shared my heart, my struggle and my lack of poise in this process. She listened and she responded with questions for clarity, thoughtful suggestions and sweet appreciation for the ability to talk about what is going on. I talked to her about her grandpa Louie and why I didn’t share her journey with him. I wanted my girl to know it was not about shame or embarrassment or anything that reflects who my girl is in my mind but rather a strong dislike of Louie’s wife who is judgmental, narrow minded and so fucking sure of her “rightness” that there is little room for anything else. I find myself coming up short on my desire to be kind and have compassion for people when

It can be hard to put my whole self out there. It can be hard to know who I am in some situations.  When someone from the past asks about child #3, they will say things like, How is Prescott doing? How’s he liking England or Portland or his work etc. When that happens now, because everyone important or close has been told, I have to dig deep. Who am I in this situation? Do I just say, “SHE”, and go on with the conversation as if it is nothing big? It is big! Do I smile wide and say “oh, she’s in the process of transitioning”, without going into anything else. Do I let them ask questions? Do I know how to answer? This is her personal journey. I am a bystander, a caring one, but bystander just the same. Do I avoid the subject completely and just be careful with pronouns so that I am not disloyal. If I am avoiding, am I being disloyal? Maybe they haven’t earned the right to hear her story. There is a protective defensiveness that I have to be aware of too. My feelings are still complex an

 UPDATE: I am still fairly deaf. No complications that I am aware of. No pain. For three days it sounded like I was in a giant drainage pipe where sounds were muffled and then echoed around inside my head. That was frustrating and disconcerting. I became overwhelmed easily and was more comfortable in the quiet and alone. I attending one meeting of which I am the secretary. Before it began I leaned over to the Boy Scout and said, in what I thought was a whisper, “Can you tell me when it’s my turn to make announcements?” He looked at me, the guy next to him looked at me, and BS start laughing, then a little harder, then a full on belly laugh. Apparently, the meeting had already started and I just talked right over the guy leading it. Poor guy, I caught him of guard. Ah well, it was nice I could laugh too or, at least, not take offense at how funny my husband thought I was, with little to no effort on my part. The echos are gone and I am immensely grateful for that. Healing continues. No

Allowing people to walk in and out of my life without holding on is new. The freedom to let go is liberating and so smart. The more difficult people, the ones that cause the waves around me to feel choppy and overwhelming, can now be set in the palm of my hand and offered up, back to the universe. I’ll step away. That tight fist that feared being alone, or not enough, or wanting to belong, feels more willing to just let go. Discernment on who I let in expands and it feels fabulous. I want to grow my community but I will do it with purpose.  On occasion, I am the one being difficult in a relationship. I am the one to muddy the waters, cause the waves. Why do I do that? That’s not who I want to be but change…….it takes time. My body has spent so much time being hyper aware, looking for what may hurt. Learning to look for the good takes practice. Expecting the best has to be a conscious choice. Manipulating situations so that I feel comfortable gets set aside to finding comfort inside of

My gratitude practice has been foundational for changing the wiring in my brain. I started a journal a number of years back. I don’t go around saying I’m grateful for this or that, pronouncing, out loud, all the good that is happening. It’s not so surface. It’s more an embodiment of the things I love or the things I have not loved but have been used for good results despite the discomfort or imposition.  Gratitude redefines my reality and how I judge the unknown. The ups and downs are not so severe. It beckons me to stay in the moment, which I often do without having to give a lot of thought. It changes the focus away from the past and future. It eases the anxiety and softens the sadness. I no longer keep a daily journal, it’s just part of my heart, but I am not opposed to starting it back up if I need a realignment. Today I am grateful for hearing loss because it gives me some understanding and adds to compassion for those who have trouble communicating, for whatever reason. I am cert

Surgery is done! The results are yet to be known. The doc whispered to me during my lovely twilight nap and I heard him so I am hopeful. Will know more the next few days and weeks. Interesting procedure, noisy and uncomfortable but I felt well at ease. He warned me that I would hear the loudest noise I have ever heard and he was not wrong. Very loud noises normally trigger my fight/flight response but apparently not when happy nap drugs are dripping in my veins. He graciously woke me to warn that it was coming, I replied with an ok and bam! “Wow”, was my only response. I think I sounded like a surfer dude. It was more of a “WOOOOOOOOOOOOW”, The tinnitus has not been reduced but it is also no louder. I gave it my best shot and what happens happens. The malleus, incus and stapes, which is smallest bone in the body. It’s gone and replaced with a prosthetic that looks like the tiniest plunger ever made. 

This morning I am looking into applying for jobs. When my surgery is over, when I can hear, I will get a job. I will support myself. Opening the Indeed app, my heart drops, the multitudes of job listings, the page after page of positions open, has now declined to three. Not three pages, three jobs. How, in this bloody damn city, can this old gal find a job when I am up against people 1/2 my age or more? How does a wrinkled broad with hearing aids and age spots compete? In just seconds I went from hopeful to feeling heavy. But it’s only a moment. And moments aren’t forever. And I’m not competing. I am me.  Onward.  Full time with health benefits would be lovely. If you speak to the universe can you put in a good word?

Boy Scout loves music, all kinds. I’m more selective and sensitive towards what I call, and have always called, racket. I dislike electric guitar solos with a passion and any music where the instruments are louder than the singers. I also don’t like the screamers, so metal is out. One other thing I don’t like: BREAD. The sappy love songs 🤮. When other love songs come on, they will often get an “Oh god. This could be Bread” from me.  The other day  I Go Crazy  came on the radio and I told him this could definitely be Bread. Yuck! He countered that it was much more Ambrosia than Bread. He had a point. Ambrosia sits only a few notches above Bread in my book.  I would say I just hate sappy love songs but then I’d have embarrassingly admit to my Barry Manilow bent. It’s personal. It’s just Bread. Boy Scout just shakes his head in disgust.  Do you have any bands that are just too saccharine?