Random rambling 101423

I hurt my back Wednesday night putting away craft supplies so Cosette would stay out of them. I reached up to slide the box on the top shelf and knew right away I was in for some pain. Since then I haven’t been able to move, cough, laugh, stand or sit without pain. It was so bad I took a half day off work yesterday. (I know!) I took a hydrocodone and a tizanidine and was pretty much comatose until this morning. I woke up and did some gentle stretches. The weird thing is my triceps and my ribs hurt too I’m not sure what that’s about. I feel like I have been beaten up.

Anyway I did a little simple cooking and out away my Instagram groceries this morning and felt okay so I figured it was time to get moving. I went to Kirkwood Fall Market. Not particularly impressive. What was unimpressive is all the Kirkwood moms standing in groups of 4-6 completely blocking the aisles and glancing at me like fucking mean girls when I said “excuse me”. So. Yeah. I left there. Not before getting a very decent cup of black coffee and a load of gluten free (I think I wasn’t really listening) banana bread.

After that I drove closer to downtown Kirkwood and started wandering in and out of stores. Cornucopia is one of my favorites. Kerry Cottage is here now. A couple of gift stores, a feed and garden store and some other store full of cool junk. I was looking for two specific things and I found one so I feel like this was a success. I am accomplishing my goal. My back is feeling ok. Tender but not spasming.

I’ve stopped for lunch now. Why do they ask what you want on your burger if they’re just going to stack it all on the plate anyway? I think the toddler at the next table thinks I stole his French fries. I’m at Mike Duffys. Famous for their burgers so of course I had to grab a burger.

I’m going to leave here and do the outdoor market. I need mushrooms and live potted herbs. I’m not sure if I’ll find either one. The toddler got his own fries. I’ve done about 2000 steps so far so that’s really good. I took Tylenol arthritis and a milder muscle relaxer this morning. And I sat on a heating pad for half an hour. They just turned on music and it’s The Mamas and the Papas so I officially like this place. The burger wasn’t half bad either. I’m feeling hung over and nauseous from the pain meds and I have a headache. That might be because I haven’t been drinking much the last few days. Real talk? The thought of hobbling to the bathroom and having to sit down and then stand up again was a little overwhelming.

I’m drinking a normal amount of water today. I bought this 40 oz steel thermal water bottle at Ross’s store recently and I really like it. It fits in my water bottle sling perfectly so score! I fill it with ice water and it stays cold all day. 🎶Stuck in the middle with you…🎵

I went to the bank on my way here and got cash from the ATM. These small local vendors don’t want to pay credit card fees and I do not blame them. The problem is that my bank ATM has recently updated and you can slept your denomination so I just impatiently hit the “OK” button and ended up with a ten and a fifty. Dang it! Fortunately the nice man at the cool junk store broke it for me.

The toddler in a high chair has me blocked in. I’m sitting against a wall and past their table is the only way out. This should be fun. They’ll have to pull him out of the high chair to let me pass so I’m stalling. If I were skinny this wouldn’t be an issue. Some lady just came over and asked me to watch her phone while it’s charging so it’s sitting on my table plugged in under my table. Who does that? I guess I look trustworthy. I have absolutely no idea where she is. I’m having mild anxiety. Can I just leave and abandon this lady’s phone?

I just got my check. $20.69 for a burger fries and Diet Coke. That’s super reasonable. The toddler keeps saying “hi” to me. They are trying ti distract him with food but he’s not having any of it. The lady just picked up her phone. *Whew!* I know I’m pathetic but I was genuinely concerned about the social contract I had entered into by agreeing to watch this strangers phone for her.

Today is a month since Rhonda’s funeral at St Ferdinand. That keeps floating through my head and pushing tears out of my eyes. So now I’m a crying old lady in the corner of the corner pub.

Okay lunch is over. 🎼I heard it through the grapevine… 🎶 Time to wander and stretch my back some more. Off on my adventure to find mushrooms as herbs. Later I’m heading to Illinois to hang out with my friend Chrissie. Wish me luck while I self deprecatingly ask these people to remove their toddler so I can hoist myself out of this corner.

I cried today

I cried today, but that’s nothing new. I thought about you today but that’s nothing new. I missed you today but that’s nothing new. I’m doing OK I promise but it’s hard. You were woven into the fabric of my life. We could talk about anything and everything. We could laugh together and complain together, and then laugh again about how we complain too much. We could talk about stupid things we saw or heard that day.

I took a lunch today just so that I could try to regain my focus. I’m so crabby and short tempered. Work is hard and stressful and frustrating. I need a break, but I just don’t have time for it. I know you would tell me to take the time and stop dedicating so much of my life to this job then I would tell you that people depend on me. I miss you, pushing me to take better care of myself, even though sometimes it irritated me.

This morning when I got on the scale, I realized that I have lost 50 pounds since I called you on my way home from the doctor in March in shock about how much weight I had regained. You told me that I could do this, start again, and I did, I want to celebrate this with you. I want to celebrate this victory but I just want to lay on my couch and feel sorry for myself.

I haven’t cried this hard since right after your funeral. I keep trying to figure out why it’s happening today, but really it doesn’t matter. I miss you so much. I hate this. We were supposed to be crazy old cackling cat ladies together driving Marc up a wall. I’m so mad that cancer stole that plan away from us. I miss you. I love you.

What’s your #1 priority tomorrow?

Quit work on time and head to the gym.

In what ways does hard work make you feel fulfilled?

Really for me it’s about accomplishing goals and exceeding expectations. When I can check something off the list I feel like my day was fulfilling.

Mobility

I can’t tell you how many times in years prior I have gone somewhere only to turn around and go home because the walk was too intimidating. For someone who doesn’t struggle with mobility this is difficult to grasp. Having to walk a long way to get to an event is scary. The thoughts that go through my head. “What if I can’t make it?” “What if I can’t make it back to my car?” “What if there is no place to sit?” “What if I run out of water?” And so many more.

Today I am at Forest Park for the first time since before Covid guys! I love this place. I love the Art Museum. I love the Muny. I just haven’t been able to even consider coming to these places as an option since my back got worse.

My weight is a factor I know this but I’m in a Catch 22. I have to move to lose weight but I can’t (couldn’t) do sustained cardio. As of this morning I have lost 48 pounds since March. That is because I have been able to exercise. It started in the pool and continued with feet on the pavement.

I always try to get to these kinds of things early. Not because I’m annoying (ha) but because I need a place to park that’s closeish. It is my way of dealing with the “what if” anxiety. Today armed with my trusty water bottle I am attending the Vegfest at Forest Park World’s Fair Pavilion. I arrived early true to form and parked a 1/4 mile away, walking entirely uphill to the event. It opens at 10 so I’m off for a new adventure in my plan to take back my life.

Have a beautiful day!

Memories

When I was a young single mom I worked in fast food management. It was a rough life. Too many hours and not enough pay. There were days when I didn’t see my baby awake. I’d drop her off at the sitter’s house asleep and pick her up asleep. For a long time I thought working in restaurants was the only thing I’d be good at. I quit that job on a whim and worked three jobs for a while. Sears, a Credit Union and a restaurant. I still didn’t see my baby much but I was making a living. I was so much happier not working in food service any more.

When Anne-Marie was six years old we moved into our first apartment. Up to then we had lived with family or friends. None of these places was our space. One place I lived my landlord accused me of trying to seduce her husband. Another place I was accused of stealing my own dishes when I began to pack to move. Obviously neither of these things were true. I was tired. Tired of being broke and having to count on other people. Some of whom, despite outward appearances did not have our best interests in mind.

Our first apartment was a real dump. It was literally crumbling around us. It had this old beat up heater that made so much noise and no central air. My sister’s friend’s mom gave us a window AC unit. Anne and I would hang heavy blankets in the doorways and sleep on the floor in the living room to stay cool. We had a card table and folding chairs in the kitchen and a crib mattress as a couch. I bought a used TV from a thrift store and put it on a TV tray. My bed was inherited from my parents. Anne had a full set of bedroom furniture. It was her dads and he left it when we divorced.

We would cook simple inexpert inexpensive meals for dinner. We ate a lot of hot dogs and boxed macaroni and cheese. Pop Tarts for breakfast and lunchtime was usually a sandwich. We would splurge on frozen meals sometimes too. Anne Marie’s favorite then was Salisbury steak. I was not a great cook but we made do. Canned vegetables were a mainstay. She also liked these mushroom gravy beef cutlets I would make.

Our refrigerator was an old squat teal colored monstrosity that the previous tenant had left. It smelled so bad it took me weeks of scrubbing and bleaching before I could actually put anything into it. We kept our cold stuff in a cooler we borrowed then. The place was completely overrun by roaches when we moved in. I would sit up all night on one of those folding chairs in the dark and then turn on the flashlight to kill as many of those fuckers as I could. Boric acid helped and lots of toxic spray clouds. They didn’t seem to be in Anne Marie’s room, mostly in the kitchen. I finally eradicated them. I was exhausted but it was worth it.

The day we moved in the first thing we did after scrubbing the place like maniacs, was set up the beds so we’d have somewhere to sleep. Anne was still attending private school near my dads house then so we would have to get up extra early to get her to school on time. She didn’t start the local public school until the following school year. First grade. Her teachers name was Ms Bains. She was a sweet lady who loved her kids. Not the most gifted educator but she was sweet.

I worked those three jobs for a while to afford the rent on this place plus pay for Annie’s after school care and babysitters. We struggled for years to make ends meet. For years I didn’t have a car. I would walk Anne in her stroller to the sitter and then hoof it to the bus stop for my Sears job. When we moved to this apartment friends gave us a used car so I could get Anne to and from school. we stayed in that apartment for three years.

During that time I lost my job at the credit union. For a while I just worked Sears and the restaurant but looked for a better opportunity. It came as a temp job that landed me a full time gig. In 18 months I went from keying tax proformas in a temp pool to managing a Collection Department. This was the beginning of my second career I was 27 years old then.

When Anne was going into third grade I found an apartment near my new job. Well one of my friends really found it for me. I gave Anne Marie nine days notice before we pulled up stakes and moved again. Not my proudest moment but it was necessary. She was not happy with me. We lived in that apartment until Anne Marie was in middle school then we moved again to an apartment on the other side of the same complex. It was a good move. We were still living paycheck to paycheck but things were easier. I was able to save some money and bought nicer used cars. Anne Marie went to a better school where she got the education she needed. When Anne went away to Mizzou it was the first time I’d ever lived alone. I missed Anne but I loved it. I still do.

I moved out of that apartment to the place where I currently reside in 2016. Things are better. I have money in the bank, a new(ish) car and a nice place to live. Anne Marie is a successful leader in a school in Brooklyn. We aren’t rich by any means but we manage very well.

I have a great job in my chosen field and I’m good at it. Anne Marie lives in an adorable place in Brooklyn where she has lived for years. She has lived in New York since right after she graduated from college. It’s no secret how proud I am if my amazing daughter.

Life has not been easy. I made a lot of bad choices growing up and as an adult as well. I wasn’t always the best parent or example for Anne Marie. I did try to be a good parent but for a lot of years I was lost and immature. I wish I could do it all over again with what I know now. But then I wonder, would Anne have become this self sufficient rock star that she is? No idea.

Thanks for reading this. I’d like to hear your stories if you managed to get all the way through this.

Bedtime

Heavy lids

Cold toes

Flannel pajamas

Furry slippers

Fluffy comforter

Satin pillow cases

Pineapple hair

Meditation

Long stretch

Warm soak

Nourishing face wash

Hot tea

Turn the fan on

Cinnamon toast

Fuzzy robe

Cozy fire

Soft music

Window cracked

Lights off

Slow breaths

Dozing

Sweet dreams

I Am Sorry

I read an article this weekend that stuck with me. It was about Kurdish female fighters. Warriors really. It was very inspiring. They’re so strong and so self empowered. I want to know more. There’s a book called “The Daughters of Kobani”. I’m going to borrow it when my friend has read it.

What struck me though was a quote from the article. “And I will say that I have never seen women anywhere in the world more comfortable in power, and less apologetic about exercising it.“

Comfortable in power. I can say I have never felt completely comfortable in my power. The closest I’ve come to that was when I worked for a flooring company. I was doing a Q&A at a Sales Symposium and our Chairman was there. He stood up in front of this room full of people and told them in no uncertain terms that I was the gatekeeper of the cash and what I said goes. It was incredible to have someone trust me that much.

Then I went back to the office the following week and I was told very clearly that this wasn’t true at all. I was still accountable to my direct supervisor for every decision I made. I remember apologizing for feeling empowered.

I started to think about the number of times I say “I’m sorry”. It’s too many.

I apologize when I have to squeeze by someone in a grocery store aisle.

I apologize when I have to dig my card out of the bottom of my purse to pay.

I apologize when I walk out of a restroom and there is someone on the other side of the door.

I apologize when someone deliberately misinterprets something I’ve said.

Not only have I relinquished my power in uncountable ways but then I apologized for it.

I need to take back my power. I need to get to a place in my lives – both personal and professional – where I can be comfortable in my own power.

It’s not about being confrontational or mean. It’s about me being true to myself. I don’t blame anyone per se although generationally we were raised to feel a certain way about assertive women. There are still a lot of people who still feel that way.

I’m going to take what belongs to me. My power. My self-possession. My strength.

Don’t get me wrong. These Kurdish women are fighting a war against religious persecution, gender inequality, misogyny at its worst etc. What I’m dealing with in no way compares.

That actually might be the point. These women, some young enough to be my grandchildren (wow) are making a conscious decision to reject their upbringing, refuse to be married and commit their lives to a cause much bigger than anything I would ever have to deal with. The least I can do is to learn from their example.

I’ve already begun my journey. I made a decision last night to make a small change. It was inconsequential to anyone but me but it made me feel powerful. I felt good about it and unlike in the past I haven’t spent the day second guessing myself. Instead I feel right. Just. Right.

I haven’t figured out how this looks yet but I know that I want to continue to feel this way. Here is my checklist as of today. I’m sure this will change as I fine tune it.

• Say No
• Stop second guessing myself – TRUST
• Don’t feel guilty
• Stop trying to save people
• Remove myself from toxic situations
• Stop apologizing
• Let go of shame or resentment
• Be okay with being the only person standing

For today I’m just going to enjoy my small wins while I unpack some of this and study it. Taking my power back won’t happen overnight. I’ll take each situation as it comes with this always in the periphery. Wish me luck. Better yet. Join me.

Grace

Someone told me recently that I need to give myself grace. I’ve been thinking about that a great deal. Not just as it relates to me and my situation but the turn of phrase and it’s meaning. At the core it means to be kind to ourselves. Be gentle. I think that is good advice. I also think that it’s something that we don’t do well or often. I remember once reading about positive affirmations and I tried to practice what this preached but I just ended up disgusted and slightly amused as I stood in front of a mirror like Stuart Smalley and uttered nice things to my morning reflection while scrunching my hair.

How can we be kind to ourselves? Specifically in my case I was lamenting the fact that my weight loss has just stopped. Stopped dead. Slam on the brakes and put it in park. I’m annoyed as hell about this. Well I was. And sometimes I still am. So I thought about what giving myself grace meant in this situation and I determined that I should activate manic Mary. I bought supplements, I bought teas, I ordered books, I researched new recipes and new ideas and I went insane for a little while. At the end of the day it worked. I’m happier and more content because I took action BUT if we are honest I’m also losing weight now so manic Mary knows her stuff. So was that grace? Uh hell to the no. That was manic Mary and she is not kind to me at all. She’s crazy.

So then I was like “Wait manic Mary take a step back and let’s breathe”. I took some deep breaths, put my eyes back in my head, slept for twelve hours, tied my hair back (oh yes this is when stuff is getting real friends, when the hair gets tied back) and I just closed my eyes and sat quietly. Thinking about ways that I could show myself grace. I actually did that. I figured out step 1. Not to have steps. Okay just kidding. Sort of. But really my first toe dip into that pool of grace was to stop looking at the scale. I am in a program where I have to weigh every day and it is transmitted to an app. I also have to log all of my food and drinks. No biggie I do that anyway but the weight thing was FREAKING ME OUT! So I’m not looking at that number except once a week.

So grace. What is that? It’s defined as: Noun Simple elegance or refinement of movement. Courteous goodwill. Okay not entirely helpful. Verb Do honor or credit to someone or something by one’s presence. Ahh now we’re talking.

So self grace means honoring myself. Giving myself credit. Being present for myself. Okay. I’m there. So I’m not going to be Stuart Smalley because that’s weird and just makes me feel uncomfortable but I will honor myself. I will give myself credit. I have worked hard over the last 3-4 years to get healthier and despite some pretty major setbacks I’ve done that. I feel good, I look better and I have dropped a lot of weight. Now here is where before I would always drop in that disclaimer. I would dishonor myself and undo all my good work. I’m not doing that. It’s like if you compliment me on my dress I will say “Oh this old rag?” Okay probably not but you get my drift.

So what have I learned? I’ve learned that I’m my own worst critic but really no I didn’t because I already knew that. I’ve learned that I don’t really know how to be kind to myself. Is that a learned behavior? You know what’s funny/not funny? Typing that makes me uncomfortable. Not sure why. I will have to take that out and dust if off later. Is that a female trait? Or is everyone like that?

On a factual basis I have learned that my weight is crazy stupid all over the place day to day. I have learned that I have a voice and I have to advocate for myself. I’ve learned that sometimes my theories might actually warrant serious contemplation and ultimately that I might actually know what I’m talking about. I’ve also learned that I have to ask people to listen to me and if they don’t, keep talking until they hear me. I think those are all examples of showing myself grace. Much of this I definitely have learned before but I now know I have to keep re-educating myself. So for now this is how I’m showing myself grace. Not with rocky road ice cream or Steak n Shake. Laugh if you must but both things were definitely in the running. I love me some Steak n Shake. But in my world right now I have to consider how my actions might actually be unkind. To me. I’m literally shaking my head right now just putting that in writing. Am I alone in this? Does anyone else feel a little ridiculous being kind to yourself? I mean I’m not actively MEAN to myself but in this exercise I am trying to be conscious and present and deliberate. It’s weird man. But I’m doing it.

So how does this look for me? It is organic and I recognize that but for now, for today how this looks is I’m going to actively find ways to show myself kindness and probably more importantly find ways to stop myself from being unkind. To me. That might be the hardest part.

Summer rain

The sound of the rain hitting the ground. The smell of the dirt. The steam from the blacktop. The grey blue sky. The clean cars. The green trees.