People watch me in the grocery store. Decades ago I was watched because I was attractive. Now, it is a different situation: I am on food stamps.

Women watch what I place on the belt to checkout. I have no shame. I am so grateful for the financial help right now. I get food stamps. Thank YOU.

I have had no income for almost 2 years. I felt guilty to ask for help. A social worker suggested it and I am grateful. I get food stamps!

So many people have misconceptions about government help. My dad once said that anyone homeless just did not want to work. As a single woman, I knew better. I was part of the huge group. Missing one or two paychecks would mean I could not pay my bills. I was a flight attendant. To some people I earned great money. The thing is, when you travel for a living, you also spend more. The cutbacks at our airline were legend. We began flying more and earning much less. I knew I was on the precipice. My dad simply did not understand. It was black or white. More importantly, having never been in such a situation, it meant that nobody honest could. He was mistaken.

When my airline job crumbled, I began working in earnest, to pay my mortgage. Amazingly, the phone company, the utility company, and many others worked with me. They saw my huge credit history and knew I was not a bum. They put bills on hold while I reconnoitered. The mortgage company sent me a letter. If my payment was late, they would foreclose. Just like that.

I took every job I could. I did landscape work, I sold sandwiches from my trunk, I cleaned gutters and downspouts, weeded flowerbeds every evening, walked dogs early every morning, watered gardens while owners were away. On the weekends, I washed and waxed cars. It was hard. 7 jobs every week. I earned enough to pay my mortgage. I got food at the local food bank. It was humiliating. The woman handing out the choices gave me peanut butter. I cannot eat that. When I suggested she save it for a woman with children, she told me that I must not be very hungry. Humiliating.

The difference between then and now is that I was only 38. I had my entire life ahead of me and was strong smart and industrious. Now I am 61. I am not so good physically or mentally. I get food stamps.

I see women in the store, using their stamps, and look at their choices. I am not being critical; I am trying to learn. So many things are not included but you have to buy them to exist. No cleaning supplies. No light bulbs. Light bulbs in my home are a huge expense. Moreover, they are expensive. I try to buy CFL’s but now it is prohibitive. No pet food or cat litter. No personal hygiene products. No laundry detergent or softener sheets or bleach. Just FOOD. I am beyond grateful. I get food stamps.

I do not smoke but I certainly see the huge cost. People addicted to cigarettes have to feed that addiction. They have no choice. You do not stop smoking because you have run out of money. It is as powerful an addiction as heroin or meth. Your body makes you continue. You have no choice. Stopping is so difficult and society already hates smokers so the added shame of the addiction feeds the problem.

Medications. I take a ton of them. Between my brain injury, my blood sugar, my Cholesterol, my general stress of life circumstances, bills and an impending divorce, I take a ton of meds. They are not food. They are not covered.

I buy wine. Yep. I buy wine. I do not buy it nearly as often. I do not buy the 35-dollar bottles I used to get. I buy 6-dollar wine, on sale. Right now, it makes me almost feel normal. A few days a month, I can have wine with dinner again. Like things used to be. Before I got food stamps, before my life turned upside down.

You get a certain amount per month. Nothing more. It is up to you to decide how to parcel that money. I cannot pay for gas for my car, cannot pay for my utility bill, and cannot pay to see my doctor or light, cool or heat my home. No cosmetics or bath products. I can buy certain foods.

Next time you are shopping, look at your cart as you check out. Bear in mind that many people will not feel you have the right to certain things in your basket. They might judge. If you are on food stamps.

I am on food stamps. It is a huge relief.

Yesterday, wishes were granted. I had my head examined. I was overdue.

Testing was intense. 5 hours of sitting in a small office, doing all types of things to show how my brain works, if at all. This is necessary because of several brain injuries and Alzheimer’s being rampant in my family. As I prepare to move, I need to plan based on my hope to live independently.

My good fortune is finding humor everywhere in life.

The man (psychologist) was just as you would expect. He ‘tried’ to be fun, but is, after all, something of a scientist, anal, orderly, and controlled. My polar opposite.

While I took tests, he observed and surreptitiously scribbled secret notes. I asked if I might please have some water. He grabbed a coffee cup and obviously saw the horror on my face as he started to fill the dark brown-stained cup for me. He stopped. I had not meant to show my concern. I must have been fatigued. He said, “This bothers women,” pointing to the stains inside the cup. I agreed (wholeheartedly). He said, “It doesn’t bother men, why does it bother women?” I told him that most of us would fear the cup was not clean. I went on to say my brother had a heavily stained coffee cup. He carries it with him everywhere. Once, without realizing my transgression, I cleaned it. Thoroughly. I did the old ‘Polident’ tablet in the cup, twice. Then, I took a scouring pad to the offensive stains. The next morning, after putting it through the dishwasher, I proudly handed him his pristine cup. He asked what I had done. I told him I had just cleaned it, as if it were no big deal.

My brother left. When he returned, he had a new cup. He did not openly complain. After a year or so, his new cup looked just as bad as the one I had spent hours cleaning. He was happy again. I had clearly ruined his cup. I learned the lesson.

This man across from me asked if I needed a different cup. I said no (I lied). After another section of testing, he asked me how to remove the stains. Amazingly, men know that women fight stains. We get no extra salary for this. We get no recognition but men know we fight stains. We are wonder women without the snazzy costume and lasso. I told him to put a Polident tablet in it.

The look on his face was so odd. He almost looked embarrassed. Then he explained that he does not wear dentures. I smiled slightly and leaned over the table. I said, “You know, it’s interesting. You are allowed to buy them anyway. ‘They’ don’t even check.” He just stared at me. I could see I was not getting through to him. So, l leaned in a bit further and said, “In Texas, men are even allowed to buy sanitary napkins.” That did it. He broke. He laughed. He saw the humor.

We went back to the testing.

Two hours passed, immersed in the paperwork and the various tasks I was given. He finally saw that I needed a break. He told me I could take 10 minutes. I almost felt as if a lock was taken from the chain that held me in place at that small table. I bolted.

When I returned, I carried a large cup of coffee, extra shots. He was noticeably concerned. I apologized for bringing something into the exam room, assuming that was some sort of ‘rule’. It confused me, though, because we had been sitting there, drinking water from cups. He explained that the testing materials were very expensive and spilling coffee on them, it would be a problem. I was mortified that I could not be trusted with my cup of coffee, even though I am not known for being sloppy with beverages. Each time I took a sip, he watched carefully. It was an agonizing drink. During the time I consumed it, he explained twice more the expense of the materials. I knew I was on thin ice.

He turned a page in my booklet in front of me. There was crayon all over the page ahead of it. I asked how crayon got on this expensive booklet and how he could possibly expect me to use it, thus ruined. He was serious: “children are not easily controlled.” He went on to explain he had tried to get the crayon out of the page, to no avail. He asked if I might know of a way to remove the crayon. He asked if I needed a new booklet. He simply cannot help himself. He is a serious type.

During one part of switching materials, I asked him how long he had been married although I felt certain he was divorced. He did not want to share that information, which was fine. He DID mention that the crushing blow to the union was the desire of his wife to have a pet. He explained that a pet means there would eventually be a pet hair somewhere that it “doesn’t belong.” I had enough of a mental picture and needed no other explanation.

As we were reaching the end of the testing, he was rushing me. We were behind schedule. I realized what a huge transgression that was so I was doing my best to accelerate. He announced that we would not be able to finish but he thought he had enough to complete his analysis.

As he rushed me to the door, he explained that I would need to return for his results. We made another appointment.

I am edgy about the results. I am hopeful but recognize it is just going to be my life and I cannot control the outcome too much. I want to take a piece of cat hair. I just can’t help myself.

I am selling everything. Ok. Almost everything.

I consider myself to be ‘divesting’. It is all very odd and different since I spent much of my life ‘collecting and holding’.

I wrote once about letting things go that you hold due to love and memories. I still adhere to that lesson. I recognize that ‘things’ are not people and ‘memories’ are not ‘things’. Therefore, I get the fact that by letting things go, I have not let go of people and memories that are important to me.

I am in new territory. Things I have owned and used for years and still see huge asset in owning. Point here is someone else should own them. I have had my time.

I have a shelf unit. My husband hated it from the get-go. During a time of particular stress in our family, I moved in with a relative to help him save his house. This shelf unit was almost our “un-doing.” The fight about this dumb thing was huge and scarring. My dad came to me one night, explaining that he could ‘cut the bottom of the unit’ to make it go to the basement and fit. That was heartbreaking to me. Nevertheless, I was the intruder. Saving the house did not mean I was welcome. We cut the poor shelf unit. Nobody would ever know it had been changed. I lamented. It was my custom-built shelf unit.

When my husband realized I was bringing it along to our marriage, he balked. I was surprised to recognize his dismay over my shelf unit. It has a drop down desk in the center, beautiful oak, cubbyholes, and all of the shelves fit onto dowels so you can mix, match, and create any design you desire, with your changing needs. What’s not to love? I just did not understand his upset. It ended up in our daughter’s bedroom. She could use the desk. She had lots of books and stuffed animals. It worked. We moved again and it was too tall for the ‘basement’, which we refer to as the ‘lower level’. So again, I allowed it to be cut. Again, I am the only person aware of the cut. This thing has been impervious to pain.

In one place I lived, no wall was long enough for this unit. So, I disassembled it. I put the desk into my bedroom and used the two rectangular shelf units in the living room, on each side of my picture window. Worked just fine. Perfect. I do not see the problem with this unit. Every time I move, and I have moved 6 times since I got the unit, I just work the puzzle of the thing to manage my new space. However, in the meantime, since it goes together immediately, sitting on dowels, I can get about 16 boxes off the floor, to create space. When you move, that is a huge deal. I love this unit.

Now, I am divesting. The shelf unit no longer suits my life. I know I will miss having the ability to get so many boxes off the floor in my next apartment or house. That was always a lifesaver, making a pathway through so many boxes. But. I have grown. I don’t use 70’s shelf units anymore. The fact that this is relegated to the ‘basement’ of several houses says everything. I am letting the shelf unit go.

Someone looked at it and suggested $80. I almost threw up. A contractor came over, looked at it, and said there was probably $200. of good wood. Well, now we were talking! The problem, he explained, was how the wood was all tied up with this shelf unit. Oh.

It took me another 6 weeks to digest this. I am now asking $80 for the shelf unit. Someone will get a great unit, or a bunch of good usable wood.

Am I crushed? No. I finally saw the light: I have had use of this shelf unit for 34 years. If I get ANY money for the wood or the unit, I am way ahead of the game. It is like selling a house. When you are leaving, you need to disengage yourself from what the next people might think or do. It is not longer important because you are ‘selling’, “divesting,” moving on.

I am moving. It is time. I am ready. And whatever anyone wants to buy, I will be willing to part with so that I can move forward. Looking into my past has not served me. Looking forward, to what I might create next is the only logical step I can take.

I love a bargain.

Someone very important in my life is pretending. It disturbs me. That makes me question why:  not why she is pretending, but why do I let it disturb me?

She lost her husband, the love of her life. Now, she has taken up a sort of ‘cause’ to collaborate with another man, because he reminds her of her husband. The new guy is driving the family nuts. They cannot stand him. She cannot explain the attraction. I suspected. I asked. She said that sometimes she even calls him by her husband’s name, and then realizes what she has done. Fortunately, the gentleman is so hard of hearing, he does not even know. She is paying many of his bills.

Another family member is keeping her doggy long past time. It is painful to see. The dog is not allowed outside. Ever. Will never again be allowed outside. The dog does all of its ‘business’ in the house, which is causing issues you can imagine. The dog can never be around any other dog due to an autoimmune disorder. The dog has such a small life. My family thinks it is better than putting the dog to sleep. They are continuing to search for ways to lessen the pain, to ease the suffering. My heart is breaking for the dog. My heart hurts for my family member. Prolonging the agony. I see no winner here.

Someone who used to be in my life is a chronic liar. It seems impossible to stop. Oddly, this person has high moral standards where others are concerned. He has shed people who lied. He has refused relationships with people doing exactly as he does. He pretends to be the man he wants to be. He pretends he is honorable. He pretends to be truthful. At the mere mention of a lie, he reacts negatively. He pretends.

Another person, very close to me is pretending his mom is doing well. She is not. She cannot hear, but neither he nor she will acknowledge that. She cannot remember but makes up reasons and blames others. She has begun hoarding things and creating reasons to do that. She is not well. He pretends she is.

I pretend all is well. I am out of money. I am frantic to pay my bills and find a place I can afford to live. I pretend to others that I know I will be fine. I will leave a life of luxury to live in a mobile home. My best friend reminds me that it will be the cutest mobile home anyone has ever seen. I pretend that is true. I pretend the place I park my new little trailer will be great. I pretend.

A neighbor of mine is battling for her child who is on drugs. My neighbor is a recovering alcoholic. Her husband pretends the daughter is fine. My neighbor sees the truth and cannot pretend. The daughter pretends she is clean every time she comes home to get some rest and money. Then, she leaves, buys more drugs, and pretends until she needs help again.

My parents pretend they are going to downsize. They live in an over-crowded home that they cannot maintain, in spite of the elevator they installed. They live in 3 rooms of a large home. They cannot manage much of anything but pretend they do. They pretend they will move to a smaller home and give in to age. They have pretended this for almost 15 years, when they began to look for homes in their area, slightly smaller. Now, in their 80’s, they pretend they will actually move to a 2 or 3 bedroom place, get rid of at least one car, since neither should drive anymore, and they will be fine. Neither of them is fine. They are elderly and have a list of ailments that would frighten anyone in their 40’s. Nevertheless, they pretend.

I used to pretend that love would solve anything. I pretended that one day someone would ‘complete me’. I used to pretend that my life would be different. I pretended that true love would make everything else work. I pretended that having someone to share my life with was important. That being alone was somehow sad.

When my friend lies, I pretend to believe. When my parents contemplate their move, I pretend to listen to new plans. When my neighbor says his daughter has finally learned, I pretend to congratulate. When my relative pretends her husband is still beside her, I pretend to understand. When someone tells me of love, I pretend to bask in his or her glow.

I remember how I would pretend as a child. I would pretend I was a doctor, or a nurse, or a pilot or a mother. I would pretend my future, always rosy, never difficult. I would pretend I would be popular, famous, smart, or beautiful.

When things go awry, don’t most of us pretend they will improve? I think improvement is really acceptance. At first, we cannot envision accepting the difficulty we face. Then, we grow accustomed to what  life will be. Then, we recognize it did not kill us. It did not end so many things. We just learned to get along.

I guess I never stopped.  I just pretend.

I’ve been thinking about my friends. Learning who your friends are is important. Your friends are people you can reach for when you need to lean. I recognize how fortunate I am to count so many.

I have many friends from my airline days. These men and women have been physically absent from my life for decades. If I need any one of them, they will  immediately respond. That is friendship. I just got a phone message from one. She lives in Atlanta. We haven’t seen each other in 25 years but stay in constant contact. Her husband had an affair. Then her next husband did the same. She is living on social security, close to the bone, after marrying with houses and investments. She is now bereft emotionally and financially. She is a wonderful friend to me. We have the same pain. However, we had such fun and wonderful memories. We laugh. Everyone needs to laugh. It reminds us to live and enjoy life. We are fortunate. Sometimes we just need to remember.

I have friends from so many neighborhoods where I had homes. Manhattan, Orlando, Miami, Boulder, Colorado Springs, St. Croix, Gainesville, Salem, Spokane, Nuremburg, Munich, Frankfort, Oberammergau, Ft Knox, Redstone Arsenal, and others that I can only remember vaguely. Incredibly, I still am in touch with friends from almost all of those locations.

Now I have many friends I have never met. They are all on Facebook. According to my profile, I have 176 of them. Amazing. These men and women know of my impending divorce, know I have a cat and recently lost one, know I live in Washington and know I love to write. They know I flew, they know I care. They are my friends.

If these friends were around me on a daily basis, I wonder how much they would still want to be my friend. Am I whiny, controlling, difficult, dumb, or boring? Who knows? The beauty of this group of friends is the instant connection we all know. If I need help, look to Facebook. My friends there will immediately rally. I have seen them come together as a force whenever needed.

I have a wonderful friend nearby. We never see each other. We plan, we swear, we promise, we mean well. It simply does not happen. Like me, she is recovering from an ‘indiscretion’ from her husband, the love of her life. As he has moved on with his mistress, she has had to pick up the pieces of their lives, sell their home, and find a new place to re-start, saying goodbye to so many memories and so much pain. We ‘get’ each other completely. She is about 1 year farther down my road. It helps me to see that. I remember when I learned of her pain. Now I recognize I was not supportive enough. We all just go through the motions of help and support. We do not necessarily tie that to our hearts when we should, as friends. My lesson came later. Gratefully, she has continued to be my friend in spite of my lapse.

This is friendship. We ebb and flow. We understand and forgive. On a daily basis, it might not work so well.

As we each move through our lives, some friends come and some simply stay forever. I am blessed with both. You need some of them for a bit of time. That time finally passes and the friend needs to pass with it. They did their job. You did yours. Time to move. Time to change.

A friend just called. Incredible. We have not spoken in so long. She just asked me to come for the weekend. I am going. What could be better than a weekend with one of your dearest friends?

We have so many and they are so willing to help.

The winter Olympics made me sick. I remember vividly that they made me sick last time. I can watch the summer Olympics but the winter Olympics just make me sick. Maybe I make myself sick.

I lean, move, and try to jump. I am helping. I am doing my very best to help them bobsled, short-track, race, do moguls. I cannot help myself. I have tried not to lean and move to no avail. Then, I get sick.

I recognize it is a mind/brain issue. I know my eyes have something to do with it too but I get so sick trying to lean into the necessities. Boy it makes me sick. I talked to my brother about it. Turns out he is doing the same thing. Made me wonder how many people in the world are leaning, trying to help, leaning without meaning to help. We just cannot stop leaning, helping. However, for me: it makes me sick. I get nauseous. This time was bad. I’m wondering if it’s my brain injury. It really doesn’t matter. I just know that I get sick to my stomach now. Consequently, I had to stop the program repeatedly, giving myself time to recover. I really did get sick.

My dad’s brain is not working too well all of a sudden. He has no injury. Yet, many people are older and they function fine. He does not. He has good days and he has horrible days. His brain is not working well.

My brother is somewhat ill. Cancer keeps stabbing at his body. He continues to fight it off. He is not as he was, but who of us is? I want to help. I need to help.

One of my dearest friends will not eat. She has been too thin for years and refuses to recognize it. Many of us are not doing as well as we had imagined we would at our respective ages. Illnesses and such were for the old.

We watch these incredible athletes every four years. We remember when we used to ski, to skate, to dare. It’s wonderful. Nevertheless, it really makes me sick. I just cannot continue helping them. I try not to lean. It does not work.

Where I live, my birds have begun to return. I have a wildlife habitat in my back yard and the birdhouses are already filling. It seems early but I am not in charge of the schedule. I had a large hawk here yesterday, hunting. Anytime I walk up on that huge bird, we are both startled. It flies, I watch in awe. Such grace and such deadly ability to take out little animals I am helping hatch.

One of the birds makes a sloppy mess of the birdhouse. I believe this is a Hammond’s Fly Catcher. The nest sticks and straw protrude from the opening in the birdhouse. The first year they were with me, I noticed the ‘mess’ and pulled those strands out, making the opening more tidy. It was only for me. I did not give a thought to the bird. I did not want it to look unkempt. The next morning, the sticks and straw were again sticking out of the opening. I got the point. A friend of mine mentioned the very same thing in one of her houses. We both realized that this is a trait and we need to stay out of the nesting ritual. I know the birds are back because suddenly I have sticks and straw making obvious notice in the birdhouse. I walk past, refusing to touch anything. I barely glance.

They don’t need my help. Neither do those golden athletes. Sometimes I have to sit on myself to leave things alone. This is not my job, is not my business, and is not my niche.

A friend of mine cannot let her garden be natural. Anyone who knows me, realizes I am a fan of cottage gardening. My flowers and grasses are sprouting hither and yon. I love the carefree idea. She cannot live with that. She could not let foliage die. She had to cut it so it would look better. Cutting tulip leaves and daffodil leaves will cause less growth for the next season. Soon she had no flowers. Remember that ad: “don’t fool with mother nature”? It’s true. We need to learn to leave things alone. Sometimes that is too much for many of us.

So, as my dad’s brain continues to misfire and my brother has his battles, the birds and the deer and everything wild will do pretty well. They don’t concern themselves with much of anything except survival. They will eat as needed to fuel themselves. In their world, you are not too fat. You just ARE.

In the world of flowers and grasses, they will overgrow and the weaker will not. In my world of the Olympics, the summer is good; the winter is difficult. I still try to help.

It makes me sick.

I live in Spokane, WA. The US Figure Skating Championships are here, and I am normally in a front row seat. I have followed skating avidly since the mid 80’s. Fortunately, for me, attending championship contests have been constant. If I were not able to be in a great seat, I would watch it on TV, never missing a second.

Last night a very nice friend of mine took me as her guest to the championships. It was wonderful to see again.

However, what I actually experienced was not what I was accustomed to seeing.

I’ve mentioned before that I suffered a TBI (traumatic brain injury) a couple of years ago. It really has changed my life, my outlook, and my future. Last night I recognized it has also changed my past.

My mom had Alzheimer’s. Horrible disease. She lived in Fla and I lived in Colorado, then Oregon, now Washington. Farther and farther away from her, needing to be with her, hating to see what she was.

I made a decision about my visits with mom: I would meet her wherever she was. Toward the end, she had no clue who I was. I would watch her before I approached, to get a feel for how she ‘was’ at that moment in time. she would look at me, blankly, smile, and ask how I was. that’s mom. the more ill she became the more she morphed back into her ‘hostess’ mode of making others comfortable. because she did this so well, most people had absolutely no clue she was so ill. she managed to fool people for almost 5 years, with this disease eating away at her memories, her being. Now, visiting her in the lock-down ward was always unsettling. I wanted to scream, I’m ALEXA!! I’m your DAUGHTER!!. that would have done no good. she simply did not know me anymore. so, I decided to try to get her to like me, every time I visited with her. she had always helped everyone, everywhere. huge volunteer, all of her life. I decided that whenever I ‘met’ her, I would try to get her to enjoy my company. for an Alzheimer’s patient, that is no small feat. they are angry, frustrated, isolated, and tired of being bossed around. they have no clue who anyone is and they want ‘out’. I would go to her, smile, call her by her name, and beam at her, “HI”. she always responded favorably.

sometimes, rarely, she would chat, laugh, and almost manage conversation. Alzheimer’s robs people of their ability to use their words. I learned to listen to her cadence and her tone. amazingly, I usually could converse with her, on her terms. all I wanted was for her to like me. just for that ‘time’.

a brain, robbed of its use is not pretty. people do not act the way we expect them to or the way we are accustomed to them acting. when I injured my brain, my husband had his hands full. I had outbursts, my language went to the gutter, I was angry, crying, unable to do things and unable to figure out why. the doctors had warned us several times but until you live it, you really don’t ‘get it’. when I was going through this with my mom, I was still intact (almost brilliant, or at least really smart, IMHO). I just wanted her to like me. I loved her enough for both of us. I wanted her to like my company. so, we would chat. sometimes we would hold hands. she had no idea who I was. I was careful not to intrude. I just wanted to be with my mom, or whoever she was at that time.

sometimes I would visit her and it would go really well. so, I would stay longer than normal. those rare times were golden and I didn’t want to miss a second of them. we would talk and laugh, her conversations would make little sense, but she liked me. she was happy in my company and I was thrilled to almost see a piece of her, coming through. if anything or anyone interrupted her, she was lost again. sitting with a stranger. I would start from the beginning. again.

brains are pretty interesting. she was ‘there’ in pieces. the pieces weren’t necessarily the good ones. my brain was here but not functioning very well. as a result, I was difficult and unable to care for myself.

now I have the after-effects. my marriage is in shambles, over essentially. my brain has returned as much as it will manage we believe. if I am tired, I cannot form sentences. my spelling ability has completely vanished. I was an english whiz, math whiz, science whiz. now, I cannot multiply. sometimes I cannot add, no matter how hard I try. I spoke 4 languages, I seriously struggle with my english today. it’s just the way the cookie crumbles. I’m mobile, I can drive and run errands and cook and garden. I am just a bit more diminished. that’s life.

last night I realized I don’t know a damned thing about skating. that was astonishing. my friend had gone with me as my guest years before. she evidently relied on my knowledge to help her understand the competition. it made me remember the first month I was here in Spokane, the championships were here (Skate America, I think) and I took my very best friend to every event all week. she was an athlete but knew absolutely nothing about this sport. so, I explained to keep her appraised. last night, I could not answer the most basic questions. that was stunning to me. I simply don’t know anything much about this sport I have spent thousands of dollars on for 25 years or so. I’m a newbie.

so, just like my visits with my mom, I decided to just be ‘there’. I decided I don’t need to be in charge, don’t need to know the answers, don’t even need to know the questions. I could just be there, with my dear friend, watching a program of great challenge and superior athletes. I had been here the month I moved to Spokane, and now, 8 years later, as I am making my plans to depart, I was here again, but a different person, in every way.

and it was ok.

horrible week. cannot imagine one worse yet I know another is bound to appear.

4 of my dearest friends have experienced huge loss of life. what is worse than that? before that, I was feeling very bereft, left, alone, frightened and sad. now, i recognize again that everyone has ’something’. as my best friend said today, “you don’t have to look very far to see someone in a horrible position.”. she is so right.

3 of my best friends lost their pets in less than a week. one, is losing her husband. good heavens. I’m upset over my husband’s “stuff” and my pride and my money and divorce.  I need to get a grip.

I always say, ‘everyone has something’. when you are in the midst of it, you don’t remember that. just look around your own corner. someone is dying emotionally, spiritually or physically. someone is. I promise.

I have been helping a woman through her chemo. talk about a rude awakening. this is serious stuff. naturally, I keep my stupid stuff to myself.

so many of my friends and family are coping. we just didn’t dream things could become this grim. amazingly, spring will make all of us feel a little better. we will probably be missing someone but we will see more sunlight, watch new flowers bloom and realize that our world will trudge onward.

the most amazing part of this to me is the few people who still don’t ‘get it’. the ones who are completely caught up in their own drama, their own pain, not even seeing everything around them. that is heartache. name calling, bullying, pointing out faults, yelling, screaming, to no avail. we only diminish ourselves. I have been as guilty as the next. I keep trying though. I really do try. knowing that, I cannot discount that others are probably trying as well. we just see things at different times.

let’s pull together. please. let’s just row this boat in the very same direction. our time here is short. shorter than anyone knows. some of us feel we’ve been here, done this. possibly so. doesn’t matter. everyone is struggling with the very same issues and problems. we all deserve a break. we all deserve love. we all deserve a chance to improve.

I’m trying to improve. hard to imagine I could be better, but I’m gonna try!

I am often afraid. I fear so many things that haven’t happened. I fear things that ‘could’ happen. the relationship between the first and the second are huge.  there is the possibility that nothing bad could happen at all. irrational fears.

I am afraid of spiders. I don’t know why. many are so tiny. I try to help them. I know they are afraid of me. then, the bigger ones: ok, I’m frightened to pieces. no clue as to why. I think I am afraid of things that ’scurry’:  mice, rats, big bugs (roaches), spiders, and the like. again, they have never bitten me. I am just uncomfortable. afraid.

but why am I afraid of people? not many people, but certain people doing certain things. why should I fear them?

I am pretty fearless generally. it is not the person I fear, but what that person represents (as my stepdaughter taught me) me (CALL ME ANYTHING). I fear what I cannot predict. how many of us don’t?

of late, I am afraid of my future. I fear being without funding. I have only been that way once in my adult life and I managed by working 7 jobs a week. I was also 38. huge difference. now, I find myself without income and I feel old and withered, fretting about my financial future.

how different from a spider or a rat or mouse is this fear?

I know a wonderful woman. she is frightened to pieces of fire. I will hope to understand that fear before I leave her company. she consistently cuts trees, thinking this will prevent her family from burning. during the time I have known her, she has given way to both of her children leaving the nest, moving onward with their lives. she still fears that fire. she has more than one home. she is constantly cutting trees to prevent the danger of a dwelling being lost to fire. we all watch and feel for her dread. no one person will be able to put that to rest. only her. only this woman can prevent herself from the slashing of trees and shrubs, homes to so much wildlife, because she fears fire.

I’ve known her 10 years. I have yet to learn what was killed, or  lost  in a fire, in her life. I gather she lost something or someone precious. but, maybe it’s an irrational fear.

I fear sharks in the ocean.

I was raised in the ocean. my brother and family swam in the Atlantic and the Gulf for years. at times, our mother would call out to us: “sharks! , be still.  now, come slowly to me.” we learned that sharks were a danger. we were afraid but not terrified. when I saw the movie “JAWS”, I became very frightened. that was different. now, I’m afraid. now I’m frightened. now, I can be terrified.

but that’s me.

don’t we all have something? everyone is afraid of something. we all have our terrors. our worries. it doesn’t matter if they are things or stories or memories. they still frighten us sufficiently. we are afraid.

how interesting that so many of us decide that what one person fears is silly, yet inside we fear something. isn’t it time that we all recognize that everyone has fears and no fear of one person is any less than the fear we carry? personally, I think it’s past time.

it’s STUFF. we all have it. nobody is exempt. without fears, terrorism could not exist.

I don’t know about the rest of the world, but when I get on an airplane, I kiss myself goodby. I say my prayer to my guardians, my family, my loved ones and I put myself into the hands of ‘everlasting hope’. whatever happens after that is whatever happens. I have warned my family that if I were to perish in a plane crash then I was meant to, I decided to, I chose to. because, as a crew member, if I did not get out of a plane, there was a very good reason. I decided I needed to help someone else, I decided my life was over, I decided. yep. I decided.

so, what is your fear? do you acknowledge it? do you try to pretend it doesn’t exist? we all have it. no one person is exempt, no matter their posturing. everyone has fear.

overcoming that fear is a huge step forward.

my fear of sharks dissolved several years ago (that’s another blog). my fear of being left is dissolving now. (I’ll manage) my fear of spiders is a work in progress but I’m gaining on it considerably. i still dont’ like roaches but I realize now how long they have survived and try to acknowledge that as I do my best to kill them, standing as far away as possible. roaches are scary.

we are all so busy. it’s that time of year. holidays bring more and we all react. Re-act. good word. We aren’t quite ourselves if we ‘re-act’ are we? so many expected examples, traditions, and issues.

I have bats living above my bedroom, in a crack in the roofline. I like what bats do. I dislike what people still believe about bats. I was raised to believe that bats would swoop down into my hair if I were walking in a field at dusk. odd. yet, people believed that. I do realize that bats are some of the most voracious insect eaters on the planet. our chemicals are destroying them. they are becoming endangered. like butterflies, which we love, they and bumblebees, which we require, are being destroyed by the chemicals we use in our landscape.

the nights I can’t sleep, I turn toward my bedroom window and hope to watch bats, zipping around, and catching insects. I know that mosquitoes will not be biting the next day. I enjoy watching them swoop, stop on a dime and swoop in a different direction, catching their prey. I find it interesting.

I’m waiting for the moose to amble into my yard. they always come in the winter. I am awed by their size. opposite of  bats, the moose seem to just destroy my landscape because they are enormous and will eat anything they reach. they reach very well. but, because they are moose, they are forgiven being so incredible in size and not so often seen. and, moose are rarely said to dive at your head at dusk.

then I have that damned skunk. she (yes, I know) comes regularly now. when I was still an idiot, I tried to run her off one afternoon. you don’t do that twice. she comes in the evening. she eats fallen birdseed, next to my hedge. she began digging a hole. I put a stop to that. I do not want a den of skunks. they are hard to shed. and, in most states, it’s against the law to kill them. I am not the type to kill animals. I am more interested in trying to shoo them away. I’ve tried most things with this skunk. she scoffs at my efforts. cute, but not welcome. nor is the raccoon.

that’s the point, isn’t it? things we love and things we don’t. some are welcome, some are not.

traditions are welcome. the strife that comes along, not so much. family, always welcome. typical fights, no. trying to make things ‘just so’ because people are visiting: don’t. it’s just too much stress and reaction.

I remember one evening at my folks’ house. we had almost the entire family visiting. 3 brothers, 2 sisters, spouses, 2 nephews, one niece. I walked into the kitchen to put dishes away from the deck. we had just finished an incredible dinner. when I came in, my mom was madly scooping cookie dough onto sheets, ready to slam into the oven. the look on her face as I walked in was almost terror. I’ve never forgotten it. she was scooping about 15 per minute, it seemed. I offered to help. She tersely said “no, and don’t’ you DARE tell anyone I’m making cookies”. I went back outside. I knew the tension. she wanted this to be fun and easy and obviously it was nothing similar. she was frantic.

when she presented the cookies, on adorable trays, napkins ready, she was beaming and would not look at me. it was too much knowledge. she wanted it to ‘happen to be perfect’. I’ve never lost that lesson. it’s ok to just be ‘ok’. it’s fine to just relax and let people gather, laugh and pitch in. you don’t have to do it all.

so I am starting to decorate for Christmas. I learned yesterday that Christmas is a week from now. ooops. I’ve had no clue. my mind is clouded with so many things. I just knew it was ’sometime’ and thought I might actually decorate. I was planning to put lights out this weekend. well, I’m not doing THAT now. good grief. by the time I get them up, it’s time to take them down. I have lost track. I don’t have time to react. I had also realized this is my last year in this wonderful home and setting. that makes me sad. that made me decide to really do one last Christmas so I wouldn’t regret it later. ohwell. traditions change. I will make Christmas in my next house and be just fine.

so, while I watch the bats, shoo the skunk and wait for the moose, I realize that everything is really ok. I am not going to change the axis of our planet by what I do or don’t. the big wheel keeps on turning.

I have sworn off the stricken look I saw that night in my mother’s eyes. I have sworn off the rush and need of a calendar. I do things because I enjoy them, not because it’s expected. expected by me or expected by others. they are the same. I need to keep specific appointments, medical appointments, and lunch with friends. not much else is really that important. when I begin to work again I’ll keep those appointments as well. otherwise, I am now on ‘alexa time’ and the living is really not so bad.

I have more time to act.