You are the same today as you will be 5 years from now...

“You will be the same person in five years as you are today except for the people you meet and the books you read.”― Charlie "Tremendous" Jones

Hey Friends: Going through a rough time lately. Feels like "lately" has been 10 years though! Not to get too deep into it, I've been feeling depressed and guilty for not becoming who I thought I ought to be. Most of all, for not maintaining friendships.

I'm not going to pretend to be besties with every one of my social media friends, but I do consider you my friends, so this is an apology if you've ever felt that I have distanced myself from you.

Like many people with chronic health and depression issues, I have gotten in the habit of pulling away so that I don't present that weak me to the world, even those I consider friends. LIke most of us, I don't like feeling vulnerable to the world and to let you see the me that is metaphorically curled up on myself sitting on the bottom of the shower stall crying. I'd rather you all believe I can adult with the best of them and take on the world with confidence and good humour!

I have spent the better part of 40 years trying to be philosophical about life and "figure it all out". I am NO WHERE near that goal (duh, obviously, since NO ONE can be!). I have learned a lot, though. So, I want to sound like I know what I’m talking about so people listen and learn from what I've been through. I think we all know we're all fakes in this area! Inside, we're all children until the day we die. (For my spiritual or religious friends, I'd like to note that I think this is what the Bible means when it talks about entering the kingdom of heaven as children.)

One night, years ago, I woke up out of a dead sleep with the very clear understanding of the meaning of life. Life is about relationships: Relationships with ourselves, with our environment, with God, with other people, with animals, with information…we live in relation to everything. We are defined, not by other people or our environment, but by who we are in relation to everything. I’ve heard “You are the same today as you will be 5 years from now except for the books you read and the people you meet.” Circumstances change us. People change us.

I have been changed by the people I have met in my 4 decades on this planet. Their feelings, their opinions, their treatment of me, my treatment of them, their love, their pity, their ire, their amusement, their disgust, their consideration. I have clear memories and loving feelings toward people who may not even remember me now. I feel sad about lost relationships and even sadder about lost lives. I still feel guilt over mean things I have said. I still feel hurt over mean things that were said to me. I have moved on, but the memories will never go away. The love I have been given still strengthens me.

I often feel like maybe the worst friend ever. I do know that relationships go both ways, but being chronically ill often leaves me depressed and beating myself up for things I can’t do. Withdrawing usually feels personal to people, who think that I simply don’t want to be friends with them anymore. Sometimes effort is needed for me to interact. Most people don’t’ have the time, energy, or inclination to “pull me out of my shell”. It’s an energy drain to them. After awhile, people stop expending the energy.

I guess this is just my way of trying to explain. I want my experiences to help others. When I am freaking out, hugging myself and crying for what seems like no reason, I’d like to believe that even this part of my life has meaning and purpose. What else are we here for if not to help others? 

Your Best Self

The Doctor - "900 years of time and space and I've never met anyone who wasn't important."  (New Season 6, Christmas Special)

You can surround yourself with inspirational quotes, intellectualize all your feelings, and consciously act according to the prescribed or determined rules. However, until you learn to actually love yourself – for all your faults and all your strengths and weaknesses- you’ll never be able to get over the negative things you think about yourself.  Until you accomplish that, you’ll never be able to move forward toward being the person you were meant to be. All that negativity will hold you back. To reach your potential, to understand the reason you were put on this Earth, you must let go of the negative, even the negative you do not consciously know you are holding. 

This is not an easy task. You have learned these things, and they can be unlearned, but they will not be unlearned easily. It will take time. But, have faith!  Be kind to yourself. You did not learn these things overnight. You will not unlearn them overnight. If you succeed, however, you can find that person. The person you were meant to be - your best self. Your contented self.The self that goes out into the world and lives your dream. 

“We’re all stories, in the end.  Just make it a good one, eh?” — The Doctor (New Season 5, Episode 13)

It's okay to be the 99%

I don't want to blend in. I want to blaze my own trail, make my own way, and be MYSELF. The trouble is...this world is not made for people like me. It's made for people who want to stay in the rut and believe they are rebels because they make 12 choices to order a cup of coffee.

Well, I'd like to believe that, but I'm faced with a reality that is a little different. I have become soft. I have become ill, and I've realized that the struggle against the confinement of my invisible cage is what continues to keep me ill. I envision the life I want, but come up short every time I face the obstacles that are keeping me shackled to this current life.  I'm so close, yet I have so far to go.  I look at the flat land in front of me and think it's going to be an easy walk, only to find that I can't see the great gorge below me until I am almost in it. Frustration is feeding back into my body and making me hurt.

I want to write something inspiring. I'll say it's for everyone else - because I want to feed positive energy into the world. But it's also a need to encourage myself. To remind myself that we all feel this way. We all come up against life's barriers. We look at heroes and laud them for making the effort, for overcoming the odds. The problem is that, if they've overcome the odds, that means someone has to BE the odds. If the odds need overcoming, it means that the majority of people AREN'T MAKING IT. Not a very inspiring thought, I know. But I'm facing this reality. That this IS the reality. The truth that most of us will not be the inspiring story.

But, you know what? I think that is OKAY. It is how we deal with that failure that matters.
The crazy guy in Colorado who cracked up and decided he must be the Joker from Batman? He didn't know how to deal with this idea.

We teach our kids that just participating gets you a trophy, but that's not true in life. Yes, how you play the game is more important than if you win or lose.  But how you handle losing is the most important thing of all. Anyone can be a good sport when they win. It takes grace to lose with dignity
Everyone is good at something. But the hard truth is that no one is good at everything. No matter what it looks like to us, the person who has it all together doesn't. We never see the behind the scenes.

Someone recently said "The problem is that we are comparing our behind-the-scenes to someone else's highlight reel." Ain't that the truth?!

It is okay to be average. Average is the backbone that makes this country run. Average is the woman who goes to work everyday to a nonglamorous job (possibly one no one even realizes exists), comes home and makes dinner for her 2.5 kids, goes to bed tired at night, gets up and does it all again the next day. It's a grind. It is not romantic. That's what books and movies and television shows are for. These people we see on television are not the average. No one writes stories about average people. People have ALWAYS wanted to hear about the above average.

What is important is that we are all okay with being okay - at least some of the time. Find something you love and do it the best way you can. Be happy. Be happy with who you are. There will always be someone who is better at something than you are. And that's normal, too. Don't be mediocre. Be the best YOU you can possibly be. No one else can do that better than you.

I had a lot of thoughts when I sat down to write this entry. The concept seems simple and short and sweet and to the point and all of that. But when I started to try to explain it, I realized how large and world-view changing this could be. I had so many thoughts on what to say. This is important.
This is not a rant or a manifesto of mediocrity. I'm not saying not to try. I'm not saying there is no point in trying. I'm saying there is every point in trying. Trying IS the point.

Growing up in the United Methodist Church, we would occasionally sit in front of someone who, for the life of them, could not sing. I mean, really off-key noises would assault our ears the moment the hymnal was cracked open and the organ music would start. But that person would sing their heart out. It was what my stepmother would good-naturedly refer to as "making a joyful noise". I was taught this fundamental lesson - God doesn't care if you can't sing. Your music is still beautiful to him. It's the heart that's in the noise that matters.

I might be burning to sing my own solo, but I know in my heart that what I really want is to find a way to sing my own part. I've been trying to sing with the wrong group - like trying to sing soprano when you're really an alto. The result is a screeching mess that leaves me with a sore throat!

So I'm saying to you - make your life your joyful noise. You may trip over the words. You may be hopelessly off-key. But your life is beautiful to God as long as you are living it with all your heart. And you shouldn't be ashamed just because you aren't the soloist all the time. Think how lonely that would be. Remember, we're singing in a large choir - and we all have to sing our parts. That's how beautiful music gets made.

Brownie Girl

The floor was brown. Not solid brown. In my mind's eye, I'm looking down at it now and I see speckles and confetti-like patterns of brown and black and red and a few gold splashes here and there. It's cold and cut in large square tiles. Outside the wind howls. It's late October and I'm trying to think of a cool Halloween Costume for the different parties I'll be going to this year. I am 10. I hang my coat on a hanger inside the door - the pale blue bricks make a walk-in closet just across from the quadruple doors. I don't really want to leave it there yet. My arms are cold and I still feel the chill from the walk to the church. I know I will be sitting on cold grey folding chairs, too There is a smell, too. Something uniquely this place - something that will stick with me throughout my whole life - through the Baccalaureate service for my high school graduate that will be held here, just down the hall in the sanctuary, and through to my suddenly remembering it in a fugue state at age 38. It reminds me of the kitchen in my elementary school, but it also smacks of a certain amount of disuse and dust.

I hear other girls milling, their voices echoing in the large room. Stage at one end, fronted by the children's toys from the day care that runs here during the day, this is where banquets and bridgings happen. At one end, girls are running around and sliding on the slick, dark floor. A circle of those cold folding chairs is set up nearer to the stage. To one side, the adult ladies are talking and looking at books and pulling things out of plastic bags, preparing for the meeting to begin. The meeting, which seemed so long to me then, will only take an hour and a half.

Most of all, there is a feeling of safety this place gives me. A feeling of belonging and love and trust that will disappear later in my life. For now, this place feels almost as much home as my family home half a mile away. In warm weather, I climbed the tree with the almost 90 degree angled branch in the parking lot. If I look out the window, I can see it there, appearing almost on its own island of grass.
I can smell the powdered soap in the bathroom down the hall. A tiny little room with two squeaky stall doors that never seemed to line up with their locks, it smelled of borax-like powdered soap and urine. My mind strains to remember a faint memory of a 70s-style orange vinyl couch from that room, but I don't know where that would have fit. The mind is an imperfect thing and these memories are arriving through emotion. That couch will have to float there, Schrodinger's Cat - like, neither existing nor not existing.

Brownies, and Girl Scouts in my later elementary years, is filled with memories of this place. There was singing "Silver and Gold" and playing "Gossip"to prove messages can be misunderstood. One shining memory was the night Lilly Umholtz taught us how to properly set a table. Why I found that so interesting I no longer know. Perhaps because I was a loud sponge soaking up any and all knowledge.

Despite her volume, I would love to be that girl again. She was opinionated and annoying, but she had brass. She was unashamedly curious and planned to take on the world someday. She saw nothing but promise in her future and believed she could do anything.

A small bit of that girl still resides in me - she's the part that wants to ride Camels and be a wise old woman. I recently let her loose to make a list of 101 things she wants to do. She came up with driving Route 66 and going on an "Amusement Park Crawl", as well as taking a painting class and learning to fly a plane.

Sometimes people forget that, trapped inside a sick woman, there exists a little girl who still wants to play, to run, to learn, to explore. I don't know if I'll ever get to do any of those things on that list.  I'd like to think as long as I still have that list, though, I can have hope.

Rainy Easter

I woke up one Easter morning recently, having fallen asleep in a recliner the night before, to a bright sky and falling rain. It was that quiet kind of Easter morning, filled with reflections as I puttered around, preparing my traditional Easter Deviled Eggs for the family gathering. There was a moment that stopped me and reduced me to tears. But only a moment.

My mother died in April - just around Easter. That makes it a bittersweet holiday for me.

For many people, Spring is a time for renewal and change and all the things we associate with new birth and flowers and crops blooming.

For me, Autumn is that time.

Walt Disney famously said "Without change there would be no butterflies."  It's a motto I keep on my desk at work and write at the end of my e-mails. To remind me that, no matter how difficult transitions are they are necessary to life.

I love Autumn. Usually I don't care for the color orange. But there is something about the oranges of fall -- the yellow-orange, burnt-orange, red-orange variations -- that makes me feel good. At work we like to get out of the office on our 15 minute breaks and take a walk. Recently, a coworker and I were talking about the colors of fall and he shared with me that he had read somewhere that the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania has the highest number of color variations (i.e. the highest number of varieties of deciduous tree and bush, each with it's own particular shade) of any state. And I can totally see that. I grew up in a little valley with "mountains" (technically they are hills, but we called them mountains like everyone else in the Appalachian trenches!) practically on my doorstep. You have never seen such color!

And maybe that's why the colors of Spring seem pale to me in comparison. Pale green of new growth is so weak next to the vibrant shades of plants in their final bloom, going out with a burst of red and yellow.

But there's also the fact that, to me, Autumn is more a beginning than an ending, as some see it. I see this as the time that nature settles down to peaceful sleep to recharge for the oncoming year. Some people see life as a Life/Death cycle. To me it continues and is so much more. From the pungent loam of those leaves on a forest floor, a tiny seedling will stay hidden and warm until spring, when it will be fertilized by the leaves left it by the bigger trees the previous fall.

I was born in November. I love the crisp Autumn air, sweatshirt-and-jeans weather, and the smell of wood stove smoke on the air. Lit pumpkins on porches and the harvest coming in. American Football games and the start of the school year (orange-yellow busses and No 2 pencils and brand new jeans. I adore new notebooks and opening chapters in textbooks!)  I love the beginning of the countdown to Thanksgiving and Christmas (but not too early, please! No need to rush it!)  To me, September through early December is all about anticipation and dreams and beautiful sensations.

But there is also the fact that my mother and I shared this season. Her birthday was late October, just before Halloween. Mine was a week or two later. We shared a birth sign, and we shared something of a claim to this time of year.

It's been more than 20 years now since she moved on. It's taken me almost as long to get adjusted to her being gone. I miss her in the Spring, but that's a sad, bad memories kind of missing. In the Autumn, it feel more like a celebration. She, for one, adored yellow. And as I see the leaves turning yellow, I think of her and her green and yellow dining room. And her yellow roses.  And I see her walking down a leaf-matted path through the woods, probably getting ready to take the Road Less Traveled.

  (Hear it at this link - Poets.org)  http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15717

The Road Not Taken
published in 1916 by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one was far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth. 

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worth them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day! 
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
To roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

A Poem for My Brothers - Strange Trinity

A Poem for My Brothers -Strange Trinity

At 2 a.m., or 4,
when I am awake and dreaming of you

Have you taken me a picture of where you have been?
Have you written down,
in poetic terms,
the life you have lived?

Will I lose you all eventually-
my trinity turned duo turned four quartets?

scattered like wedding day rice
our new beginnings
our mutual ends
perfect love
platonic and endless

And where will God place you tomorrow?
My sorrow and longing
to see your face amazes me.

It has been long away
from the master of my poetic start.
I, apprentice to the art of life and and art.
You, teachers, with arrogance and truth,
always believing you knew so much,
that we believed it, too.

And I did.

Your magic and art will always be
in your older-brother charm, wit,
Fred Astaire grace,
small g godliness
and calm assurance
that life is to be tasted.

Experience, said the giant man
my blue-eyed Polish Switzerland
who love to laugh and taste of life
and see life through the lens
of art and light
True man.

what I owe you can never be repaid,
never stated, even,
it is too much
Italian Controversy led us everywhere,
laughing, robust, at life,
Politics
and War
all things Mars, it seemed,
in this realm of men.

Would I ever truly understand life
without you?
Could I ever see this world
through more dynamic eyes than yours?
Could I have seen my own delicacy
or realized to what depths the human soul goes?

Someday there will be women
woman enough
to handle you

And will she have a sister
woman enough to handle Chaos?
The fact is in doubt

Friend, you are the life that breathes into fire.
Whirlwind, uncontrolled
Danger in a Blues Brothers suit.
Brother, hot life breathing
even as you seem to speak
of death and darkness
Untameable
And so I will simply pray
you don't shoot anyone
unless they need to be shot
and that your plot goes unused
for a good
long
time.

Brethren!
As such you are,
every one of you inspires me!

I leave pedestals behind
and keep instead simply friendship's warm glow
to reflect
      the true touch of each on this life.
Each my child,
to motherly instinct
Each my enemy,
to feminist anger.
Each my love,
to wild instinct and matronly desire.
Each my best friend,
to heart, in truth, incessant.
And all of my life
I will hold you so,
No matter where we are.
No matter distance or time away
Always,
Forever,
I love you.

Ilene Danielle Oldham

What we wish and what we hope for - and what bites us in the bum

What We Wish\What We Hope For\What Bites Us In the Bum

We are all so full of dreams. We want this and we wish that. And we hope for this other thing. Without any clear direction to it. But you know the saying "Be careful what you wish for...because it may come true."

What happens when we GET what we want? How long do we appreciate it before it's on to the next thing? Cars and books and movies and houses and husbands and wives. And children. How many women long for children and then, when they get them, can't stop complaining about them? How many people say how they can't wait for their kids to grow up, but when the kids finally do, they are the ones we find crying, staring at baby pictures?

There is a show out there called "The Lottery Ruined My Life." As you can guess, it's about how people got what they wanted and then realized it came with a price.  Many modern gothic horror films and TV shows address this theme, too. You think you want eternal life? Well, this is what you'll get along with it. Wish for something from a genie? Here's the price you'll pay. "All magic has a price" we hear over and over.

Stepping out of the realms of fiction, that rings true in reality, too. Every choice we make means we eliminate some other choice. Every life path we start down means stepping away from another road.  It's a hard concept for some people to handle. In a world increasingly filled with options, we can become overwhelmed by the choices. What if I make the wrong one? I can't come back and change it later. When we close a door, it often becomes locked behind us. For people with anxiety issues, this can be paralyzing. For people whose life has gone off-script, this can be haunting. There's also the fact that, if we achieve our lifelong goal, we can find we've suddenly lost our purpose. 

For many people, the pursuit of a lifelong goal is the reason for living. Without that, we find ourselves adrift on an ocean of possibility. That can be paralyzing as well. For someone who found their mission at a young age, it can be like you are suddenly young again - and by young in this case I mean inexperienced and uncertain. This can be good or bad. It can re-energize you. AARP commercials like to highlight this idea. But, we often spend our youths wishing for retirement, only to find that we are adrift without the purpose that comes from getting up every day and going to work. It can make some people very depressed. In a society geared toward youth, we forget all the knowledge and experience that comes with 60 or 70 or more years living life. Technology may change, but the basics of being human never do. At that age, you can feel like you are young again at heart, faced with the daunting vastness of which road to choose, but with the knowledge now that there are things you cannot do because of physical restrictions or a limited life span. Add to that the idea that people assume you can't do as much because you are "old".

For some people, retirement is a chance to do that thing they've been dreaming of their whole lives - spend the days fishing or writing or becoming what they've always wanted to be. The great American novelist, the gardener, the volunteer. I know one woman who would love to simply be a home-maker and practice the feminine arts like crocheting and knitting and cooking.

It would be nice if we could have our roses without the thorns, but it is true that there is a price to everything. Every dream has a downside. If we account for it in our plans, it can save us heartache. They say "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence", but we all know that it is very different when you're seeing it up close. Fame comes with the inability to maintain privacy. Being a household name means that people will grasp on to it and attach it to untruths. Getting to travel in your job means that you won't be home or available for family or friends. Winning the lottery means having to pay taxes on it and needy friends and relatives (not to mention fund-raisers for worthy causes) will come out of the woodwork. Having a family of your own means that it is harder to pick up and do things without a lot of prior planning and it takes you longer to get ready and go places. Children require a lot of money for many things you never even imagine. Babies cry and get sick and keep you up all night. Having the freedom to travel and have a good job could mean sacrificing a family or children of your own.

I'm from a generation of women who were taught from infancy that we could have it all. It took a generation for all of us to realize that it really isn't true. What we can do, however, is make our own choices about what we keep and what we give up. And that privilege extends to anyone these days.

No one's life is perfect; no one ever truly has it all. Acceptance of that can give us some peace.