Happiness is Just Moments

A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night, which I often do as I have wicked insomnia, and I stood in the hallway. For the briefest of moments, I was completly pain free. I was half asleep, but I hadn't felt this way in years. So I just stood there, and let it happen. I didn't know why I got up, perhaps it was to use the bathroom, or adjust the thermostat, but I didn't do either of those things. I just stood there.  I felt like the old me. The me who could climb stairs with ease and go dancing and take long walks. The me who could hold down a job. The moment passed and I went back to bed. I don't know if the pain came back, or if I were just too sleepy to stand any longer. But, I do know it wasn't a dream.

Tonight I went out to put a Netflix movie in the mailbox, and it was raining. After the movie was in the  box, I let the rain soak me. It felt so cleansing and free. I didn't want to go back inside. I brought the trash can back in from the curb, and tried to find other things to do to keep me out there. When  there were no more chores, I stood for a few more seconds, and went back inside.

When people say they are happy, does that mean they stay in a constant state of happiness? I don't think I have ever been happy every day, even before I got neuropathy. My child makes me happy and I don't know if I would be here without her. We all have happy moments, and then those moments end. We are left with the memories of those moments, but we still have to work at having more happy moments. It takes effort, doesn't it? I suppose I need to learn to make myself be happy. 

I cherish those moments when I'm alone and I have those awakenings that make me remember who I am, or who I was.

But what is the secret to true happiness? Being happy ALL the time?

Handwritten Letters - A Lost Art?

I have a trunk in my closet full of old handwritten letters people have written to me over the years. The operative word here is, "old." People just don't write letters, anymore, or at least no one I know does. The thing to notice here is that I don't have a trunk full of e-mails. You don't save e-mails. E-mails get deleted.

I wonder if people put the effort into an email that they might put in a handwritten letter. The composer of an e-mail knows it will be read, but also knows it will probably be read only once, and then spit out into cyberspace somewhere. A handwritten letter is so much more intimate (I'm speaking of personal letters here). I enjoy looking at different handwriting styles, seeing postmarks from around the world, and when I was younger, my girlfriends and I would decorate our letters with stickers and drawings.


I can't think of any woman who wouldn't rather receive a handwritten love letter over a love e-mail, and what's this business of being dumped by e-mail? Some people can't even take the time to end a relationship properly; rather they e-mail the news, or even worse, text someone that they are being dumped!


I'm beginning to wonder if kids even pass notes anymore. Now, it's all about the text message. Everything is about speed. How fast can I get this done? As compared to pre-e-mail or pre SMS, if you don't get a return on your end of the conversation immediately, you worry. You want that return in less than 60 seconds or your feelings are hurt. I remember getting excited about checking the mail, hoping to get a letter from a long distance friend, or even a local one. If it weren't there that day, I would get excited about checking it the next, and so on.


When you use your actual hands to write, I think your brain has more time to be creative. Typing goes more quickly, so you're just writing on an instant capacity. When I taught school, I would have my students write their rough draft papers by hand, edit it, and not type anything until the end. Typing is so mechanic. As a writer, I tend to prefer longhand when I write, but what I actually end up doing is typing it and editing it about ten times before I am satisfied.

I have thought about buying stationery for all my friends to inspire them to handwrite a letter every once in a while, if not to me, then to someone else, but I have never followed through. I know that box of stationery would sit on a shelf and collect dust, and I just might get a thank you, by e-mail of course.

I suppose the best thing about handwritten letters is what I mentioned initially; I can go through that trunk of mine anytime and read something someone wrote me years ago. The longer I wait between readings, the more fun it is. It's been about 5-10 years this go round, so I think it's time to pull some out, get comfortable with some hot chocolate, and step back in time.

Don't get me wrong -- e-mail is a wonderful invention. It's just too bad that it had to wipe out an even better one.

The Importance of Daddies

Traci and were discussing Daddies recently, moreover, the fact that she has an amazing Daddy. He is always there for her. He has helped move her all over the country, put a roof over her head whenever she was between jobs, and has never batted an eyelash about it. Granted, Traci is a pretty independent girl and doesn't need much help, but when there's something that needs a man's attention and she's between relationships, her Dad is on it and she doesn't even have to ask. If he gets wind of something that needs doing and Traci hasn't asked him, he would most likely be hurt. After all - she is his baby She will always be his baby no matter what age she is.

I am one of those people who believes the child/parent relationship does not end when the child turns 18. I mean, I cannot imagine Lindsay coming to me, at any age, needing something, and me denying her, no matter the circumstance. I brought her into this world and she is the best thing to ever happen to me. As cliche as it sounds, I wouldn't be complete without her. I can't imagine my life without her.  Unfortunately, my ex husband doesn't feel the same way. Furthermore, my father doesn't feel this way about me, either. I have made it abundantly clear to Traci how lucky she is to have the father she has. She has seen what I have been though and she appreciates her Daddy and she has wept for me because I have a not-so-great relationship with my Dad.

Good Daddies are almost a forgein concept for me. When I am out and see a Daddy with his child, particularly his little girl, I always get teary eyed. My daughter's Daddy walked out on us when she was 10 months old and now that she is 14, she doesn't hear from him, nor do we receive any financial support from him.  She has no male role models in her life. I often wonder how this is going to manifest later in life. In my case, I know every stitch of self esteem was ripped from me and I ended up marrying someone that didn't deserve me. Thus, the pattern started again and I didn't provide Lindsay with a good father. I was told my entire life I wasn't good enough.  When you're a little girl, you tend to believe what your Daddy tells you.

The first man in a girl's life is her Daddy. Little girls idolize their Daddies and want to grow up and marry someone just like him. I have this idea of the perfect Daddy in my head and this Daddy comes nowhere near the Daddy I was given. My perfect Daddy would tell me I'm pretty, whether I am or not. He would be protective over me, and do everything in his power to keep me from getting my feelings hurt, rather than being the very one who hurt my feelings on a daily basis. He would want to spend time with me, not make me feel as if he didn't want to be seen with me. And if my marriage broke up, he would wipe my tears, not tell me that I'll find someone better if I were thinner and more attractive.

Finding good Daddies weighs so heavily on the Mother. I have the sweetest mother out there who would do anything for me, as well as my daughter, but she picked a loser of a daddy for her two children. She apologizes to me often for this. I guess in the beginning, when you're in love and it's new, it is hard to predict the kind of father your husband will be. Personally speaking, I was just so in love and ready to be married, I didn't even think about it. Maybe 22 was too young to figure those things out.

I have figured out that it is better to have no Daddy than a bad Daddy around ruining your life. My mother and I have raised Lindsay, so she has had 2 parents - 2 good people who love her more than life itself. She doesn't even mention her Dad, who she hasn't seen in several years. As far as I am concerned, I need to follow the example lifestyle I have provided for Lindsay. My Dad and I argue a lot. He has kicked me out of his home at Christmas for bringing up something he had done in the past and gets furious if I need him for anything. The man just can't stand me.

All you women out there who have managed to find good Daddies for your kids, I congratulate you. They are hard to find.

My High School Graduation with my Dad

That Christmas Feeling

I love Christmastime, I really do. I love shopping, decorating my home, and seeing all the decorations others have on display. I love the lights and the smell of Christmas, and it seems like if I am down about anything, my spirits are lifited just because it's that time of year. I love giving. I am truly one of those people who loves to give more than she likes to receive. I love picking out special gifts for the special people in my life, especially my daughter. Having a child has made all of the holidays better, especially Christmas. Making her happy makes me happy, not just at Christmas, but always.

This Christmas was a little different. I have been wearing a cast on my right leg since September due to a diabetic wound and it was taken off just a few days before Christmas. Lindsay and I missed a couple parties, and basically just getting out and seeing all the action. I managed to get some online shopping done, but several items were late arriving, and I had to ask my mom to pick up the other things I needed. I did as much decorating as I could, considering I couldn't do much walking on the cast, and was instructed not to walk much when it was removed, either. In addition to all this, Lindsay got the flu. My poor baby was miserable the entire week before Christmas, and still isn't 100% herself. We both just kind of laid around saying, "it doesn't seem like Christmas."  A couple days before Christmas day, my friend Kathy took us out shopping at Target and that was our only outing the entire season, thus far. And the week before Christmas we had to cancel a trip to Raleigh to see my friend Traci because Lindsay was sick and I wasn't getting around so well on my crutches.

My primary concern the whole time was Lindsay. It was my job to make Christmas a wonderful time for her and I felt like I was failing. I did manage to decorate the tree, hang up the Christmas cards, and do a little more decorating. One big thing I like to do is send out a ton of Christmas cards. This year, I had them made all out, but they were never mailed! I asked several different people on several occasions to get me some stamps, but they either forgot, or they were sold out (around here, we run down to the Food Lion for stamps rather than fight the Post Office crowd).

Christmas morning turned out OK. Lindsay, myself, and my mom were all together and we all had thoughtful gifts for each other. Lindsay and I gave my Mom a purse and a wallet. Lindsay gave me an Edward doll, a Hello Kitty Doll and Hello Kitty calendar, and mom is getting me a TV. Lindsay got almost everything she asked for, including a Wii.  My brother and his family came over later and we had a nice visit. So, even though every inch of the house wasn't decorated as I would have liked, and definitely not as spotless as I would have liked, I enjoyed seeing my baby enjoy opening her presents.

I think I will start preparing for Christmas around Halloween next year. After all, it's the build - up to Christmas we all love, isn't it? It's all over so fast!

I scold myself when I think that this was a less than perfect Christmas. We all have a roof over our heads and food to eat, and resources to buy gifts. We aren't rolling in it, but I know we are more blessed than a lot of people. So many children out there didn't get any gifts at all and went to bed hungry on Christmas. Hopefully, I will be well enough soon to do some volunteer work, especially around this time of year.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!

The Forty Year Old Girl

In two months, I will turn 40 years old. Forty. FORTY YEARS OLD. I have been dreading this day for quite sometime. I dreaded turning 30, too, but it's nothing like the dread I feel now. There was a time when I thought 30 was ancient. When I was 22, I had a 28 year old boyfriend and I considered him 'much older.' I suppose it's all relative; however old you are, the next decade seems like your twilight years. You think it's far off, but before you know it, you reach that next milestone and begin dreading the next one.

And have you noticed that kids are taking over Hollywood? Everyone is obsessed with youth. Here I am, almost 40, and I am obsessed with the Twilight saga. I hear there are a lot of twilight Moms, actually.

When I turned 32 or so, I began to be attracted to younger men. When I was 34, I dated a guy who had just turned 23. And since then, all of my dates/flings/relationships have been with younger guys. One recent one in particular is almost 12 years my junior, and even though we don't see each other anymore, I still want him. What I thought was just for fun turned into love. I would marry him in a New York minute, despite our age difference. He never seemed to mind, and many young men say they prefer an older woman.

But 40? I don't know. Am I still going to be able to get away with my younger man prefernce?  Will I be able to get away with anything? Forty sounds like such an...adult. I don't feel like an adult. I'm silly and girly and free-spirited - I still feel like a girl. My mom once told me that some girls will always be girls, and some become women. I know what she means. After all, I still love Hello Kitty, the color pink, get ga-ga over rock stars and hot actors, and I giggle and laugh most of the time. I'm a girl.  I have never owned my own home and am not currently married and those things heavily contribute to the adult status. The fact that my daughter and I are temporarily living in my mother's home because I have health issues, really makes me feel like a girl.  I feel like I am about 16, actually, because my mom still edits everything I do. I don't care what age you are, if you have to move home with the rents, you're treated like you're a kid (see how I used the term 'rents?' That is something a girl would say).

I thought by the time I was 40, I would be married (or re-married, in my case), own a nice house, either be in a career or have a husband who supported me, and have 2-3 kids. I have one child and it's hard to imagine having another, but had I stayed married the first time and my husband weren't an alcoholic sociopath (I'm being nice),  I would have wanted more than one. Now I'm too old. Not married. Old, old, old. I'm not the type of person who would have a child out of wedlock so I never considered having a child in my late 20's and 30's. I love that my daughter and I are so close, a closeness that may not have been possible had I had more children, but I sure do get baby fever sometimes. I am hoping my best friend will have a baby so I can be the Godmother and help her raise it. Are you listening, T?

I have considered lying about my age. Even to say I am 35 sounds so much better than 40. I have good skin so I could certainly get away with it.  Perhaps I would even begin to believe it, myself.  But, I don't lie. There goes that idea.

So I have decided to embrace being a 40 year old girl. My plan is to get in great shape physically, take great care of myself, finally jump start my writing career, and just be the most fabulous 40 year old self I can be. It's better than being 40 and un-fabulous, and besides -  what choice do I have?

If

I have a degree in English, but I have never been a big fan of poetry. Perhaps it's because in college I was forced to decipher so much complicated literature, that I am rebelling. Maybe that's why I loved reading the Twilight series so much - it was so easy and fun. I do appreciate classic literature, and I do enjoy making my own interpretations of another's work. But every once in a while, you just want to read something that says what it is. For now, I would like to share my favorite poem, "If" by Rudyard Kipling. It appeals to me not only because I admire strength, courage, and integrity, but also because, even though I find it to be brilliant, I don't have to buy the Cliff Notes to understand it.

'If', by Rudyard Kipling:

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on';

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!"

Alexander Supertramp

I watched the movie, "Into The Wild" again yesterday. If you haven't seen it, it's about a college graduate who takes off to live in the wilderness of Alaska. Prior to leaving, he donates his life savings to charity, abandons his vehicle, and ends up lighting a match to what little money he did bring with him. He also cut up his social security card and identification. He renamed himself Alexander Supertramp.

Although my current goal is to save money, get a car, and a new place for my daughter and me, I can certainly see the appeal of Alex's way of life. I spend so much time trying to do the right thing, and I have realized the right things have been defined by others, not myself. I envy Alex's need for anonymity and lack of rules. When you break down life that way, the little things are what make you happy - a beautiful sunset, food in your belly, and the occasional company of a good friend. Alex didn't need other people to make him happy. During his adventure he encountered some good people in the oddest of places, but he didn't need them; they were simply a component of a moment that made him happy. He could just walk away from it all. I don't consider that behavior sociopathic in this sense, you know - someone who has no feelings for others. Rather, I consider him to be truly self-actualized. He is at peace within himself, which is something I long to be.

If I had the means, I would just take off with my child. I would head to New England, then maybe Canada, and eventually Europe. Alex didn't have the means, but he survived. He ate plants (the wrong ones, at times) and hitchhiked. I would love to have an RV and just get the hell out of Dodge. I would educate my child by taking her to all the places we read about in books. Disappearing without a trace is so attractive to me. All the people who have judged me, lied to me, let me down and told me what I am supposed to do could just always wonder....whatever happened to her?