The Yang to My Yin

Why is Yin feminine?

My life is so out of balance.  This whole Chinese philosophy seems so peaceful.  So, today, when I got two, TWO, moments of positivity I thought, "WOW...I have some cosmic balance coming from somewhere today!"  For kicks, I Googled yin yang .

I know the whole philosophy is about everything being in balance and too much of anything being bad, yada, yada, yada.  Why is the negative called the feminine?  That just pisses this female off at the whole ancient Chinese culture.  If I didn't love your Crab Rangoon and delicious pork fried rice, I'd hate the modern culture, too, bitches.

Every Little Thing

Steph, you're gonna think you're my muse. 

I am the queen of 'glass half full' thinking.  It may take me a while to get there for some situations, but I get there.  I mean, seriously, if I can take the death of my only child and find any positive thing to come out of it, then I have to have flowers to pull out of my ass, right?

I have come very close to losing that part of me this year.  Nothing worse than losing Olivia will ever happen to me.  There is no hurt, event, occurence, NOTHING worse than the death of a child.  However, when you've been emotionally beaten; when you've experienced loss after loss; when you've seen others experience those same losses; when you've seen people you love hurt and have their hearts shredded; when you bounce back like a Weeble over and over and over..............

There is a breaking point.  I've had a few over the past 3 years, 6 months and 19 days.  I came very close to tipping over the edge.  I was lucky beyond belief to have my Posse to grab on and hold me tight.  For those who don't have a Posse, they tip. 

I feel like a yo-yo.  I get close to my breaking point, then I pull myself back.  I get close again, then I pull back because in the deepest part of me I keep thinking everything will be ok.  I have been telling someone that for days now as she faces losing her child.  No matter what, it will be ok until it's not and then it's over.  That is how I have survived.  That is my mantra.  Everything will be ok until it's not and then it will be over. 

There really is a time to say "this is NOT ok" and I am there.

The Reason Is...

There is a reason for everything.  Right?  Yeah, maybe.  There is even a reason someone came up with WTF.  I use it regularly because sometimes, asking "what?" is just not strong enough.  Thanks to my very good friend Stephanie, I can now ask "WTMFS?" for even more depraved instances.  Take last night for example.  I was put in an uncomfortable position.  Had it not been at work, I'd probably have used all the words in an ugly tone with my head all wobbly.  Luckily, I've been practicing using the little bit of self-control I have and marshaling it for professional purposes.  I also take my old Barbies out and role play with them.  Barbie gets tired of being pushed around by Ken, so she tries to use big girl words and not rely on her sex goddessness to get her way with him.  Skipper is tired of both of them and their drama, so she just busts on up in there and threatens to pop a cap in somebody if they don't shut it....I didn't say I've completely succeeded yet.

Anyway, I wonder why people think they are above doing something simple that takes a second to complete?  Why does someone think they are so superior that they can't take an extra moment for someone on a lower rung of the social totem pole?  Why do people assume they are on the top of that pole?  Who assigned the rungs on the mythical, invisible pole?  Questions I'll never have an answer or a reason for, surely, if sociologists and anthropologists haven't figured it out yet.

Carry on, Skipper.

I Approve This Post

Just when I think I'm skating on thick, smooth, safe ice...

I'm a bit of a dichotomy.  Some people see me as a fountain of optimism and sunshine.  Some people see the darker side of me.  That side expects the worst out of situations and people.  I'm not sure there is a conscious decision on how I approach a person or a situation.  I do know I have to force myself to think the opposite way sometimes.

For example, when things are going really well, such as on some thick ice, I catch myself afraid to say out loud how good they are.  It's as if I'll break that spell and the ice all at the same time.  Then, I chastise myself for even thinking it because if I've thought it, the universe knows it whether I've said it or not and it could all start spinning out of control into a cyclone of crap just because I had the thought.  And by the way, why doesn't that cyclone work the other way?  Why can't I think about how wonderful life is looking and how great it would be if I found an extra $100 lying around somewhere, and I got an unexpected promotion and that actually happened?

Yes, that's a little extreme.  Yes, it's how I think sometimes.  I used to work for a Domestic Violence agency.  During the day, we never put the crisis line on an answering service if we had to leave the office.  We had volunteers who would take the line forwarded to their homes.  We had this one woman, Ruth, who never said 'hello' when she answered her phone.  She always said 'Come on over!' or some other happy phrase.  My voice mail in October goes along the lines of "I'm not available to take your call.  Leave a number and I'll call you back.  I'm Karen Hawks and I approved this message."  I border on sarcasm, not sweet.  OK, I border it like water borders Australia.

I digress....

I'm trying to be more positive about people, specifically about grown ups.  I'm pretty positive about the small children and really positive about babies.  I can't promise I'll start answering my phone with sparkles in my voice.  If you need that, find Ruth and call her.

Stock Market, Shock Market

I am not a Dow fan.  Although, I was startled to hear about the Mt. Everest-sized tumble it took recently.  I, personally, think we should go back to the barter system.  None of the three jobs I have would help me with that.  I mean, I am great at supporting you if you have a child in critical condition or if you need help finding some linen trousers.  Neither of those skills is going to help me down at the market when it's time for trading.

I've decided I need to develop a consumable product.  I was actually purchasing toilet paper when I thought of this, but nevertheless, I'm thinking more along the lines of food products.  I'm not into the farming thing, so no piggies, cows, chicks, or other fowl for me.  I think I need to create a niche in baking.  Baked goods last longer, so if I can't get to said market for a day or so, it's not like a tequila marinated London broil.  That bad boy won't be a hot commodity on day 2.  I do have friends who are good at all sorts of things though and one of them is superior at tasty meat.

So, I propose we go back to the public market.  We all assemble and choose our food group.  Yes, we start with food.  Then, we'll work our way to household items.  We can set daily hours and that way there is a large variety of items available regularly.  It would go something like

Me:  I have two dozen Massive Minty Mocha Munchies ( the BEST mint chocolate cookies you've ever put in your mouth)

Julie M:  I have  6 large lump crab cakes

Ricky S: Tasty Meat, get yer tasty meat

Sam M:  Spicy sides, take some Pepcid now!

Brandy C:  Goat milk!

Laura G:  I can offer organic corn, peas and string beans.....

You get the idea.  Who's with me?

When I Grow Up...

When I was in kindergarten, I remember thinking I'd grow up to be something fancy like a doctor.  At the very least, I'd work in an office and carry a briefcase.  I didn't know that word, but I knew what those people looked like and they looked cool.  I knew I didn't want to be what my family was.  I didn't want to farm.  I am not looking down on that or talking bad about it.  They worked hard, long, and dirty.  I don't like to be dirty.  I don't breathe well.  I am not meant for manual labor.  None of that is conducive to farming.  My nephew wanted to be a bird or a tree.  That's a whole different life plan.

Sitting in our little circles on the floor talking about our futures, who ever says "I wanna be a crack ho!"  "I think I want to drive the garbage truck!" or "I wanna lead the Bloods!"  We make jokes about that all the time, at least I do.  Yet, I look around me and see so many of us who have ended up far away from where we planned.  How did that happen?  Not everyone screws up their educational plan.  Not everyone becomes a teen parent.  Not everyone messes up.  Life just happens. 

How is it that some of us can get out of that bad track and back on a good path?  It's easy for others to judge.  It's really easy to be on both sides more than once in a lifetime.  How did you end up where you are and are you happy with it?  If not, what do you need to get to happiness?

What IS Enough?

All relationships are hard.  Friendships can be rocky.  We all fight with our parents.  God knows romance/marriage is the stuff of war.  It ain't called sibling rivalry for nothin'.  Co-workers  can brainstorm one minute and back stab the next.  And, our bosses... we want to give them enough respect and leeway to give positive feedback but also not allow ourselves to be whipping posts. 

Where is the middle ground in any of those?  Of course we find it some days.  If we found it more often, Jerry Springer wouldn't be a household name nor would we immediately know what his name implies.  

One of my favorite sayings, much to many people's chagrin, is "Love is not enough".  I, myself, can fully admit to times when I've not loved enough to overcome obstacles in a relationship.  The more difficult part of a relationship is looking in the mirror and seeing what's really there.  Are we willing to do more than say "I love you" to fix a problem?  Sometimes, it's not even a problem.  It's a dynamic or  maybe it's a timing issue. 

Whatever the reasoning, whatever the issues,  do something to figure it out.  The whole in-between time sucks.  Make people laugh.  Do something nice.  Give a snuggle.  Write a note on a banana.  Sell raffle tickets.  Let the people you love know you love them in ways that are meaningful to them and do it often.  I'm smelling my lunch for tomorrow right now.  Kelly's cooking just so I can have something to take for my 12 hour shift.  That is enough for tonight. 

Whiplash!

I may not be the Original Prankster.  I think Dexter Holland thinks he was.  Sometimes, I sneak a few good ones in.  How the prankstee perceives them is another story.  It's been my experience that being straight up about a situation can be hurtful.  Being delicate by dropping hints can be useless because they don't pick up on them.  So, you go the joke route and bam!  The double take catches somebody so off guard they need a neck brace for 6 weeks.

I'm running away for the day.  Shhhh!  Don't tell anybody.  It's just a day trip.  If I were going alone, I might take a couple of unsuspecting bodies along who were breathing on the front end and come back alone.  Alas, I'm going with a good friend, so I'll make it a crime-free trip.  I have high expectations of peace and relaxation. 

Maybe I'll figure out different ways to get through to those I love the most.  Maybe they'll figure out ways to get through or accept me.  Maybe those are way too lofty expectations for 12 hours.  Maybe I'll come across multiple metal chickens for entertainment.  Here's one I found last night!

HAPPY FRIDAY ALL!

Did The Little Men See Me?

I came out a weird door.  There weren't any sparkly lights or magic dots.  I did get disoriented by the construction walls and cranes.  That jackass security guard was lucky I had my badge on or I would have socked him in the mouth for mocking my dazed stupor.

That actually happened last night, but it is a parallel to my life.  I feel like every day I wake up and walk out a weird door.  The only time I don't feel disoriented is in the world of intensive care.  The medical world is home to me.  I know that is utterly sad.

It's kind of like my life, my house is a fun house that isn't fun.  The mirrors give off reflections that are definitely skewed.  I don't see myself or my surroundings in a realistic way.  I survive by my trademark inappropriate humor and biting wit.  It is highly offensive to some.  I am the scary clown you don't want at your parties.

Luckily, I am a good faker.  In Bye Bye Birdie style  "Wipe off that "full of doubt" look, Slap on a happy grin!" I'm just waiting for the day, or night, to walk out the right door, into the right place, at the right time, with the right supplies, to the right reception...no magic needed.  Yeah, right.  I may as well throw in a Bugatti-with-the-winning-Powerball-ticket-in-the-driver's-seat-waiting at the end of that list.

Gray skies are gonna clear up...

You Wouldn't Like Me Angry

where did the bunny come from?

Like the Hulk, don't make me angry....

Let's be brutally honest; even if not publicly, then with ourselves.  How many of us mothers would always, capital A, put our children first?  Casey Anthony's mother did in the end.

I don't even mean to go that far.  I think she committed a crime in itself, but I'm making a point.

My point is that for 12 years, pregnancy and death included, Olivia has been number one in my life.  I was brought to tears this morning when another ferocious Mama Bear endured the heat to Princessify her grave once again.  MP, you are tha bomb.  I was brought to tears again this afternoon when I was berated for announcing and showing the condition of Olivia's grave by another mother. 

As any bereaved parent, mothers specifically, will tell you:  There is not the tiniest way in which anyone can begin to comprehend this walk unless they are walking it.  We hope you never comprehend it.  I believe it takes mothering to a whole new level.  It's as if we guard our mother status like the Pentagon, particularly those of us who lost our only children.  Guarding Olivia's grave is all I can do for her now.   You mess with that, you're messing with dangerous territory.

I will not back down.  I will not apologize.  I did  nothing wrong.  My daughter's life, death, and memory are far more important to me than anyone or anything else.   I'll accept my judgement from God himself and no mortal, thank you very much.

Cursing on Sacred Ground

Today I took Olivia's new flowers to her grave.  I know I said I like thunderstorms and all, but I was not trying to tempt Mother Nature.  O is buried next to a flag pole.  The sky was opening up and normally I would wait it out, but when I saw the state of HER sacred ground, the electricity coming from my head and out my ears won the toss up.

I have been...unhappy...shall we say, about the state of Olivia's grave for a good portion of the three and a half years she's been buried there.  Things have been stolen from her more than once.  The upkeep is sub par.  Keep in mind, this is not a city cemetery.  This is a church cemetery.  This is the church where I was raised.  My mother was a member there for over 50 years until the day she died.

Other graves in the cemetery are not this way.  I know because I walk around and check.  Even the ones directly beside her and my mother are not disregarded the same.  This is what infuriates me.  For the third time this summer, I used kitchen shears to cut grass so the foot stones were visible.  When Kelly and I arrived, it was like a field.  Yet, the pre-need stones to the right are nice and trimmed (these people are still alive).  The stones below and to the left are nicely trimmed.  What does the lawn guy or church have against the Hawks family???

Don't suggest I go ask.  I have, starting when the problems started.  I talked to him and the pastor.  I have left messages.  I am purely pissed off now.  I crouched and cut in rain and lightning next to a flag pole to make sure my mother's and daughter's graves looked decent.  Well, let's be honest, there's only so decent you can get with kitchen scissors.

after my hack job

is there granite under there?

yeah, kitchen scissors

So, if any of you that live close by and have a weed eater wouldn't mind, please drop by in a couple of weeks and do a sweep for me.  I don't own a weed eater or I would do it myself.