February 29, 2016 The Key On The Desk

It's quiet in the house.    Tricia is at work.  Naomi is off to school.  Nate is still sleeping.  Tracy is still sleeping.  Heck, even the dogs are still sleeping.

I walked up the stairs and looked at the loft.  There was no very large black and white cat with the tiny meow.  For that matter, his kitty litter box was gone.  Though the remnants of a cat and a kitty litter box remain.  (Note to self, must sweep and mop the floor for a cat that was never mine.)  Ahead of me are the closed double doors to a room that used to be Tracy's office but then was turned into Suzy's room when Nick was killed and she moved in.  I turned the door knob and gently swung the door open.  I peaked my head into the room, as if I was entering into some private sacred sanctuary.  After all, this is where Suzy had been living for over a year.  It was her space, with only a few of our things left in it to help her be more comfortable (the desk she used for her computer, the small bookshelf she used for her games and more importantly, Nick's ashes, and the bed frame she used to hold her box spring and mattress)  There was also a little night stand and Suzy's broken mirror that she left behind.  Those were not ours to begin with.  Why were they left here?  I guess that is something else I will have to get rid of on my own (along with the futon she left in the downstairs office, that was originally suppose to be my dance room/guest room....that was until we brought her home to live with us.)  I looked at the floor.  It needs to be swept.  I started make a list of things that need to be done so that Tracy can make this into his office again.  Then I looked at the desk siting along the wall in front of the attic door.  There on top of this empty desk, it sat.  One lone key.  Our house key.  Suzy had taken it off of her key ring and placed it on the desk for us to find.  She is gone.

She is gone.

She is gone.

She is gone.......................



It's not like we didn't know this was coming.  It's not like we didn't ask her to create an exit strategy.  This was not a surprise.  This needed to happen.  But did it need to happen THIS way?  Since the end of November/middle of December, I can count on one hand the amount of actual conversations we have had, and those were compulsory conversations (if you can count them as conversations at all...ie:  Christmas, right before she left for Peru, right after she came home from Peru and she refused to talk to me about her trip saying she was too "jet lagged" after being home in the states for 3 days hanging with he friends before she actually come back to this house, and her birthday when she sat down for the birthday cake and ice cream and presents I prepared for her).  Other than those conversations, the most ever said before I found her loading up her boxes into her jeep were, "Hello" or "What are you up to?"  But mostly she came and went like a ghost living in my house, walking up and down the stairs right passed me without saying a word.

I'm not sure how we got to that point.  I'm  not sure how I went from being the woman she hugged on a regular basis to becoming the woman she all but ignored (and most days just ignored).  I'm sure I have some responsibility in that.  I tried to make things right.  I tried to communicate.  But she shut down, and my heart continued to break and stress continued to build.  She started packing boxes before she left for Peru and continued after she got home.  We got a phone call from an apartment manager last week and the next day she and Tom went looking at another place some place else.  Then 2 days after the call from the property manager, I walked into my garage to find Suzy moving boxes.  She was moving out right then and there.  And I was shocked and surprised.  I did not know she got the apartment.  I did not know where she was moving.  I did not know she was even moving right then.  To me, she was moving out and not telling us.  We had a small conversation in that moment, and when I asked her if she as moving NOW she said, "Well it's the end of the month."

I tried to reconcile that in my head.  Yes, it is.  It makes sense to sign a new lease now.  But why didn't she tell us she was moving right now?  Why didn't she tell us she found the apartment and was accepted?  I told her, that if we had known, Tracy would have let her borrow the truck.  She refused our help.

Tracy talked to her.  She told him that she told us she was moving at the end of February.  I swear I don't remember that conversation (but then again, I have a brain injury that forgets everything...but you would think after EVERYTHING that has gone on, I would remember that at least long enough to tell Tracy).  Tracy doesn't remember her telling us this.  No one remembers hearing about this.  We just felt as though she was moving out without telling us.  We felt as though, she was just writing us off.  Tracy told her she would be welcome home for fire pit nights.  But somehow, I don't think she will come back.  I feel as though she has written us off.

I am digging deep here.  I found myself getting ready for my performance last night asking myself some very hard questions.  If Tracy were to die, what would I be willing to give his parents something belonged to him?  What would I be willing to part with?  What would my relationship with his family look like after he died?  I have kids (their grand kids), but they are pretty grown up now and we don't see a whole lot of his parents now.  But what would it look like if Tracy died?  They have been a huge part of my life..for over half of my life.  They were my sanctuary in times of need when I was a struggling teenager.  What would I do?

I have even reached out to my friends who have lost spouses and asked them how they handled connection with the parents of their departed loves.  I am doing my very best to understand and be compassionate.

It is bitter sweet.  I am grateful for the things she did leave here.  I am heart broken that Nick's ashes are gone.  Naomi is heart broken that all of Nick's things are gone along with Suzy.  No matter how Naomi felt Suzy felt about her, Naomi adored Suzy.  I heard it in her voice and saw it in her face when Suzy came home from Peru.  She genuinely loves and adores Suzy, even when Suzy hasn't spoken to her since November (other than compulsory conversations, if you can call them that).  I'm not saying Naomi is perfect.  I am simply saying, Naomi adored Suzy and she misses Nick terribly. And this morning, driving to school, Naomi was visibly upset.  I asked her what was wrong.  "Suzy moved and didn't even say goodbye and now all of Nick's things are gone." (Just having Nick's things like his dragon collection in boxes in the garage were a comfort to us all.)

Yes, Suzy has moved.  Not only  has she moved, but she did not say goodbye to any of us.  No hugs.  No I love yous.  No I'll see you laters.  Just a key on the desk.  And sometimes no words are the loudest words spoken. Sometimes a key left on a desk speaks volumes.

Our heart breaks as this grief wound has been re-opened.  And just like all of the other times, it will heal again, and we will be stronger.  I do not know what the future holds for our family when it comes to Suzy.  I have loved her for so many years.  She has been my daughter in love since she was a teenager.  But I also realize that maybe *we* were holding her back from healing.  I am proud of her for picking up her life and moving on (and in) with Tom.  I am proud of her for finding her independence and living on her own for the first time ever. I remember how exciting it was to have my first apartment.  I hope she is enjoying that excitement too.



(Just as a note:  due to responses from Suzy and even Tricia about my previous blog posts, I will be excluding them from seeing this on facebook so please, do not share it with them. I do not need the added stress and judgment.  It is not my wish to talk bad about Suzy or Trish or Tom or anyone else.  My only desire is to express my feelings and share my story, because somewhere out there, some one can read his and find a connection and feel like they are not alone.)

February 26, 2016 The Best Compliment

As you may or may not know, I have a burlesque performance coming up this Sunday, February 28.  This will be shows in 6 weeks (which includes 3 new pieces and 1 old one).  Three new pieces means 3 new costumes which also means I spend much of my time sitting in at my kitchen table spending quality time with rhinestones and glue.  Then there is the choreography and other parts of the costuming.  This is not a small easy process.  And sometimes its a painfully frustrating process.

When I told Tracy there was a show on the 28th, he said, "You aren't performing in that are you?"  "Please tell me you are not."  I told him I wasn't. I seriously was not planning on doing it.   However, I was still going to work on the costume for a piece I have been thinking about for a year.  I already had most of he big pieces I needed; it was just a matter of putting them together and getting the choreo done.

Then it happened.

Frankie put out a call (twice) saying she needed performers for the 28th.  I let the first one pass.  "Nope, not gonna do it.  I'm just gonna focus on my March 18th performance and my belly dance choreos."  Then the 2nd call came out with a week before performance.  Frankie needed people.  I knew I could be ready without too much stress.  I put my name in the hat.  Tracy was not very happy about it.  I think he gets frustrated cause he sees me stress and because performing (though I LOVE it) takes an incredible amount of brain work and wears me out.  He is just trying to protect me.  Lord knows, I will work myself to the bone when it comes to dance.  Someone needs to put their foot down.  *laugh*

Anyway, I committed.  Tracy rolled his eyes and realized I am going to do what I am going to do.  He knows it makes me happy.

So I am neck deep in costuming.  I was fighting with the big pieces.. he pieces that inspired this act to begin with.  How the heck am I going to turn these pieces into the bra that I need?  It's creative.  It's bulky  It's hard to work with.  It took m 4 tries and fails before I finally got it right.  But seriously, I was having a hard time and didn't think I would get it together.  I was beginning to panic.  

Finally, once I got the bras right, the skirt made, and the other props purchased, I put on the entire costume...boots and all.  I played with the choreo and I fell in LOVE!!!!!  I was so freaking excited!  I took pictures and sent them to him (and to my burlesque sisters).  Everyone loved what they saw.  I felt amazing.

That night, Tracy came home from snowboarding and we were in bed just talking before we fell asleep.  I told him how excited I was that everything finally fell into place and this performance is going to be so much fun.  His reply, "I told you it would all fall into place.  It always does."  But then he said, "You are very talented."   

"You are very talented."

So many women want to be appreciated and recognized for their hard work or how they look.  They want their partners to validate them in some way or another.  Usually, for women, it's wanting to feel beautiful and to hear their partners say so.  But to hear Tracy say, "You are very talented" was as good as him giving me some huge gorgeous jeweled ring.  It seriously was the best compliment he could have ever given me!  I know he loves to watch me perform.  I see it in his eyes when he is in the audience.  But to hear him say those four little words sent me over the moon.

He is my biggest cheerleader, my biggest supporter.  None of this could be done without his love and support  I am so blessed to have such an amazing husband!!!!  Thank you, Tracy!!!!

February 15, 2016 Who Knew That Burlesque and Running a Marathon Had Something In Common?

Holy Wow!!!!

Before I start this blog, I just have to say that I absolutely LOVE doing burlesque!  I love everything about it and I am thrilled to read up on it and really get deep into it.  The art form itself is mesmerizing to me.  The history behind it is rich.  And every person I have had the opportunity to share a stage with truly inspires me!

If you have been reading my blog for a while, you know that I love many things (some of which may be a bit out of the ordinary).  You have watched me go on very long 400 mile bike rides.  You have watched me run ultra marathons.  You have seen  me belly dance.  And you have certainly seen me do burlesque before.  (Okay, maybe you haven't SEEN me do them, but you have read about me doing them and seen pictures, right?)

When I first started doing burlesque two years ago, I had this HUGE idea of planning a performance to two of Jimmy Buffet's songs (Fins and Why Don't We Get Drunk And Screw).   I was going to mash them together.  That was before I learned that there is an "ideal" time for a performance (3:30).  My original idea would be too long.  However, I still wanted to perform to Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw (WDWGDS).  It is my all time favorite Jimmy Buffet song (don't ask me why, but it just makes me smile).    When the casting call for "The LOVE Show" for Frankly Burlesque came out, I knew it would be the perfect show to perform this in.  After all, it is a love song, right?   I had three weeks to get this ready (well nearly three weeks).  That was plenty of time, or so I thought.

See here is the thing, when you plan to run a Marathon, normally, you give yourself at least 6 months notice to properly train.  If you are a seasoned runner, you can do it in a shorter amount of training time.  But you give yourself time to train so it doesn't kill you.  (I was never great at training.  As a matter of fact, I did my fist marathon with NO training...longest "training walk" was 2 miles)  There are many things you learn when you properly train for a marathon.  One of them is "never do a race with brand new socks, shoes, or anything else you have never actually spent training time in".  I have never been great at following these kinds of guidelines.  And I have a complete  "all or nothing" mentality.  This kind of mentality followed me into burlesque.

The big difference between burlesque and running a marathon is that the training and big day are kind of "flip flopped".  Training for a marathon comes in chunks and the race day is the BIG day and can be very long (for me...anywhere between 6-8 hours).  In Burlesque, the long hours come in preparation to the actual BIG DAY.  And the BIG DAY can have you on stage performing for a total of 3 minutes 36 seconds for one song.  Sometimes you perform more than one number.  But for this blog, we a talking about one number that was 3:36.

How do you train for burlesque?  Well I have taken two workshops with Frankly Frankie.  I have done belly dance for several years.  I am a professional storyteller.  I grew up on stage.  All of these things have gotten me to where I am  today (or where I was last night).  But aside from that, everything else, is research for character development.  Research for show ideas.  I spend a crazy amount of time on the internet researching songs and ideas to make sure someone local hasn't done it, or even better, that my idea is completely original to begin with.    Then there is the part where I need to find the right version of the song.  Who knew there were so many versions of WDWGDS?  I learned that Jimmy Buffet was not the original singer of this song!  I was shocked. I also learned that my beloved Jimmy Buffet version was entirely too short for a performance.  Three of us in my family spent DAYS trying to make it longer by editing it.  That was frustrating!   Finally, Tracy found a version that I had no idea existed!  It was perfect at 3:36!  Bonus:  a woman sang it, and it was completely sassy, just like Leazetta Rose (my burlesque counterpart).

Music, though very important, is just a small portion of the "training".  Then there is the costume!  You can't just go into a store and buy a dress and call it good.  Even if you can find a dress in the store that is "perfect" it still requires some work to make it stage appropriate.  Maybe it needs some alterations to make it more elegant to strip out of.  Maybe it needs some bling or more visual interest.  There is always something that needs to be done.  In the case of my performance last night, I knew exactly what I wanted.  Before I could even commit to performing, I called my favorite Designing Goddess and asked her if she could have the dress ready in time.  With the confirmation that she would, I went ahead and committed to the performance.  The next day, I beelined to the fabric store as soon as it opened and I found the only and last 4 yards of the material I needed for the dress.  I also picked up things I needed for the other parts of my costume (like pasties).   While Chante was working on my dress, I started in on my props, base layers and pasties!   I had to shop for the perfect base layers (bra and panties).  This is never easy for a "plus size" burlesque performance.  In the city of Boise, we have strict alcohol licensing rules about what needs to be covered and being the rule follower that I am, its important to me to have the right bra.  All of this shopping takes time..lots of
time.

Once I had everything I needed, I went straight to work making my pasties, embellishing the bra and buying the pieces I needed to make a "belt" to wear over the bottoms (I wanted to be able re-wear the bottoms for other acts so I thought a removable decoration would be best).

Then on the day my dress was supposed to be ready, I found out that it would not be ready until the night before or possibly even the day of the performance.  YIKES!  Not only would I not be able to embellish it in time, I would not have time to rehearse the the actual dance with the actual dress I would be wearing.  (Remember that marathon training rule...."never run a race with something you have never trained in?)    My performance was February 14.  It was now February 10 at 6pm.  No need to panic.  I headed straight out to Ross hoping to find a suitable replacement dress in case mine wasn't ready.  I needed to rehearse.  I needed to feel prepared.  And what if my original dress wasn't ready in time?  Luckily I found a dress that I fell in love with.  It was NOTHING like I had Chante making for me.  But I would make it work.

The very next day, I took it to my friends house for a sparkle play date.  We looked over my bra, bottoms, and the long black formal gown I had just bought.  Together we brain stormed and got it figure out.  I went home that night and started working again.  The next day, I spent all day figuring out how to embellish this long black dress into something appropriate for burlesque.  It took me 2 days to get it all done.   I had a blast designing this costume piece.  I felt so glamorous.  But the rehearsals with it, were not going well at all.  I was in tears.  I was exhausted.  I just wanted my original dress.  I was still hoping it would come through in time.  Finally, on the 13th at 4pm, I picked up my dress from Chante.  It was PERFECT!!!!  But now, I needed to get it ready for the stage.

I went and bought ribbon for the belt.  I also bought ribbon for my apron I would be wearing.  I bought MORE rhinestones.  I spent all night making a belt for the dress, adding the ribbons to the ties for the apron and embellishing my hair flower.  I was up until 3 on Sunday morning.  I spent that entire time playing with rhinestones and hot glue.  I was beyond exhausted.  I still hadn't even practiced with the dress! It was 1 in the morning, my fingers were covered in glue, my back was hurting, and one by one I put on over 500 rhinestones on 4 pieces of ribbon and one flower.  At 1 in the morning, I hit my burlesque wall.  I had no idea there was a wall in burlesque.  Just like on my very first marathon, I had no idea there was such a thing as a wall in a marathon.  In a marathon, the wall comes between miles 18 and 21.  You are physically and mentally DONE but you still have a several miles to go before you reach that finish line and can celebrate.  You have to dig deep to find the motivation to keep going.  And some how you push yourself up and over that wall and keep putting one foot in front of the other until finally you are crossing the finish line.



Well at 1 in the morning (the day of my performance) I found the strength and motivation to keep putting one after another rhinestone down  until I was done with the costume.  I was exhausted, both physically and mentally.  Burlesque isn't just about the 3:36 seconds on stage (that is all the audience sees).  But for the performer, its about everything leading up to that 3:36 seconds.  It's about the hours of research, rehearsal, music editing, costume designing, prop making, and balancing "muggle life".    Our finish line, is that last second of the song and the cheers and applause of the crowd.  That is what we live for.


When I was training for my marathons, I used to visualize crossing the finish line.  That is what got me through miles of training.  When I hit the wall in my races, I would pump up my music and dance my way through this rough times.  When I hit my wall at 1 in the morning working on my costumes, I  remembered my last performance and the cheers and the applause of the audience.  That is what kept me going.  I knew that this costume was worth it. I knew that this hard work would pay off.  And it did.

Last night's performance was so much fun.  Even with only a couple of hours of actual rehearsal time in my actual dress, the performance was amazing.  The strip part of it could have been a bit better (if I had more time with the dress) but the performance went over very well and the audience was amazing as always!  It was my first time pulling an audience member up on stage and having them be part of the act.  I picked the perfect person which made it even better!  I love our regulars at Frankly Burlesque!

Crossing the finish line of a burlesque performance feels the same as crossing the finish line at a marathon... happy and exhausted and high on life!  And the recovery time is the same as well.  The next day, instead of being physically sore, my brain is exhausted and happy.  And yes, my body is tired and needs lots of sleeping (which it is not getting today).

So who knew... I have traded in my running shoes for my sparkly heals, and I'm having the time of my life!

February 9, 2016 Sometimes Being Authentic Means Being Uncomfortable

The last two blog posts have pissed off people in my life.  But here's the thing, I am not going to shrink and be something or not feel something or hide something because it is uncomfortable to me or some one else.  This is my blog and I talk about how *I* feel.    Right now I feel scared, hurt, frustrated, angry, disrespected, filled with grief over several things, stressed and seriously uncomfortable.  That is the truth of the matter.  There are other feelings I feel as well.  I feel loved, grateful, creative, beautiful, optimistic, and clear.

The last couple of days there have been a couple different blog ideas rolling around in my head.  But as it turns out last night's dream and today's brain therapy appointment have won out.

LOL.  The last time I posted about a dream and how I felt got me into trouble.  Oh well.. here goes.

So last night I had this dream that Tracy and I went back to Nick's "college".  It was on the brink of some holiday where kids and faculty were taking off, but it was also the day they had a bunch of potential college kids roaming the place and talking to people at different tables about what the college has to offer.  Tracy and I walked onto the mezzanine and looked over the ledge to find Nick's old college roommate and best friend from high school (Colton Love) working a table with one of Nick's professors from FIT.  (Colton never went to FIT.. and this was just a college in my dream.. no real college).  Anyway, When Colton saw us, he got tears in his eyes and waved with a huge smile.  The college professor said, "Oh there you are!!!  It's so nice to finally meet the parents that Nick loves so much!"  All of that brought tears to my eyes (in my dream).  I ran down the stairs and waited rather impatiently for my turn to talk to and hug Colton.  I was really emotional.  He was too.  I was also excited to see Nick (who was still alive in my dream).  He wasn't in the room yet.  

Soon I saw Nick walking down the stairs with some woman.  They were hand in hand.  She was not Suzy.  I rolled my eyes and looked at Colton to get his attention over the couple of heads that were before me.  "Is that the new girl Nick is dating?"  He nodded yes.  I felt myself sigh and brace myself for what was to come next.

I rushed over to hug Nick.  I think I pretty much tackled anyone in my way and knocked them to the floor.  He gave me a long huge hug and we cried together.  (I love those hugs and look forward to them every time I see him in a dream).  Then we separated and he introduced me to this new girl.  After he did that, the girl reached over and kissed him.  I promptly decked her and shoved her to the ground.  "How dare you kiss my son!  We are still grieving his dead wife Suzy!  How could you be so insensitive?"  I went all kinds of Franenmomster on her!  I though one hell of a fit (very publicly) and stormed out.  (Only my family that has lived under the same roof as me knows what kind of fit I am talking about.  It is brutal and ugly, and if you are around, you should find an exit very quickly..... or....find a way to restrain me.)  

I ran out of the building.  There was a grassy hill where lots of people were just lounging and visiting.  I was trying very hard to find an empty patch to roll down like I used to when I was a kid.  I needed to feel light and carefree again.  I needed to feel like a kid with no worries and no stresses.  I needed to pretend that I had not lost the daughter in law that I loved so much.  

Then I woke up.

Of course, in real life, Suzy is very much alive and living upstairs.  Nick is the one who is dead and I miss him so very much.  I am so grateful he came to me with a hug.  But the dream wreaked havoc on me emotionally.  We can probably read alot of things into this dream.  But this is what came from it.  I am so very sad to lose my son.  AND I don't think Suzy will ever know or realize just how much I love her.  If she had been the one to die, I don't think I would ever think another woman could hold a candle to her when it comes to being my daughter in love.  

Right now things in my house are very tense.  VERY tense.  So much so, I don't even want to be here.  I do my very best to stay focused on things that are positive like burlesque stuff or coloring for mediation and mindfulness or belly dance.  I had no idea when I decided to focus on authenticity this year, that so much upheaval would happen.  It is bringing up some real stuff for me to look at and decide if it serves me or not.  It requires that I become very real about how I feel and to speak up for myself and ask for what I need.  Not only that, but it also requires that I hold those that I love responsible for their own actions and to their word.  It means realizing that I can not fix people and that enabling people just holds them back as well as feeds my co-dependent side.

I was asked this week what I will do with an empty nest.  Well, my nest won't be empty for another 2 years at least.  Naomi is only 16 1/2 an has 2 more years of high school.  LOL  But the answer is, continue what I am doing now.  I do not live for my children.  I decided a long time ago that my children will not be what defines me as a person.  I love them.  But I do no need them around 24/7.  Actually, I will be very happy and proud of them when they are finally out on their own being productive citizens and giving back to the world in some way.  I will be very proud of them when they start living their own authentic life.  That is my biggest hope for them.  My hope for my children (all of them.. biological, bonus, in laws, or whatever....) is that they take a long hard look a what being authentic means in their life.  Are they being honest with their feelings?  Are they being honest with themselves?  Are they taking responsibility for their actions?  Are they living a life that allows them to grow.  Are they helping others?  Are they giving back?  Are they thinking beyond their own selves?  Are they living with compassion and and open heart?  Are they following their bliss?  Those are the things the things I hope for.  Yes, they all sound "fluffy" and "optimistic".  But getting to those things will make you uncomfortable.  Living an authentic life is going to piss off some of the people around you, and you gotta be strong enough to breathe and move through it.  You gotta be strong enough to stand you ground.  You gotta get comfortable with being uncomfortable.  And you gotta be able to say "thank you for this lesson" to those who you think have hurt you in one way or another.  

What about you?  Are living an authentic life?

As I continue to work towards recovering from a brain injury and re-evaluating what a "career" looks like for me, this whole idea of living authentically is helping me find my groove.  We know that what I once was able to do I will not be able to do again.  I have to re-find my happy place when it comes to work.  I have to redefine what it is that fills my soul AND makes money.  It is damned uncomfortable. It would be so much easier to sit on my laurels and let life happen.  It would be so much easier to just bury my head in the sand and continue to let Tracy take care of me for the rest of my life.  Yes, that would be optimal.  But the reality is, anything can happen and in an instant, Tracy could be gone and then where would I be?  It's not like I can just go out and find ANY job.  I can't.  Not any more.  For that matter, I can't even work 40hrs a week right now.  It would be too much.  Coming to grips with that is horribly uncomfortable.  So now what?  Well, it's time to be a little bit more uncomfortable and find answers and learn to grown from this, not let it keep me down. Part of that is in creating my performer page and taking what I love more seriously.  The problem is, I spend more money getting ready for a performance than I actually make in a performance.  Can you say tax write off?  LOL  But it also means, revisiting some old ideas... teaching some old workshops.. helping people along the way.  This is an opportunity for me to learn and grow (if I choose for it to be.. and that is what I am choosing).  That is what I would want my children to do.... to take the knocks in life and turn them into positives.  I would want them to take chances even if they are scary.  Being uncomfortable is how we grow!

Here's to growing!

Spoiled and Entitledd

I often hear my generation describe my children's generation as "entitled".  I have heard my children described as "spoiled".  And for over a month now, I have had this blog post rolling around in my head.  

First I looked up these two words on dictionary.com.........

Entitle:  verb (used with object),  entitled, entitling.

1.  to give (a person or thing) a title, right or claim to something; furnish with grounds for laying claim

2.  to call by a particular title or name

3.  to designate (a person) by an honorary title.

Spoil:  verb (used with object), spoiled or spoilt, spoiling.

1.  to damage severely or harm (something), especially with reference to its excellence, value, usefulness, etc.

2.  to diminish or impair the quality of; affect detrimentally

3.  to impair, damage, or harm the character o nature of (someone) by unwise treatment, excessive indulgence, etc

4.  Archaic. to strip (persons, places, ect.) of goods, valuables, etc. plunder; pillage; despoil

5.  Archaic.  to take or seize by force.

I have to say that when I started rolling this blog around in my head, I thought, "I was the most spoiled child on the planet."  But then I read these definitions.  Guess what, people, "entitlement" did not start with the kids born in the late 80's to late 90's.  I was born in 1969 and I had a crazy sense of entitlement. 

I was an ungrateful brat on so many levels.  Yes, my early childhood was filled with pain and abuse, but that doesn't excuse my behavior.  Was this my parents fault for raising me this way?  I doubt it.  And in the end, I think I turned out okay.  But why did I turn out okay?  Because at some point, my parents said "Enough is enough.  We are not funding you anymore."  I remember that exact conversation.  But before we get to that, let's go back to the beginning.  (Fasten your seat belts, you are in for a bumpy ride!)

I was the 3rd child and only girl.  I would snoop in my brothers rooms to find things to tattle on them for.  I was a huge brat.  Some of that may have been a way to divert the bad kind of attention I was getting onto my brothers, but it doesn't make it right.    What it did do was set a precedent with me.  I never got in trouble for snooping, invading privacy, or for tattling.  My brothers always got into trouble because of my actions.  And I was always favored.  So it encouraged my bad behavior.  Somewhere deep this taught me that I was going to get my way.  (at least I think it did)  (****  Matt, Mark, Michael.. I'm truly sorry for the brat that I was.)

Besides being a terrible tattle tale, I just grew up getting my way, and if I didn't I was furious.  For example, I knew (kind of) that my dad earned more than the average person.  I'm not sure how I knew this or WHY I knew this, but I did.    Every Friday night, my mom would drive me to the roller rink, drop me off and pick me up at  midnight (or whatever time it was over).  Every Saturday morning, my mom would drive me back to the rink to drop me off for lessons and for me to stay the session right after lessons.  And sometimes I would skate on Saturday nights and for all nighters.  This happened for years.  I lived in the roller rink.  (It is what kept me sane..it was my safe place.  I know that NOW, but back then, I just felt like it was my parent duty to make sure this happened for me.)  When my parents said, "We can't take you tonight; we don't have the money."  I would get irate and throw a temper tantrum.  "What do you mean we don't have money?  Its only $5!"  To my elementary school head, I saw my parents taking us out to eat or taking us to breakfast at the convenience store every day, so why didn't I get $5 to go skating?

As I got older, my mom and I would take trips to the mall.  I grew up in Richardson, Texas.  That is a suburb just north of Dallas.  There were at least 4 major malls within 15-20 minutes away in most directions.  Going to the mall was what we did for fun.    My mom loved to shop.  Somewhere along the line, I thought that if we went to the mall, it meant I automatically got something.  If my mom didn't buy me something, I would be furious.  I felt like it was her duty to buy me whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

When I was 10 or 11, my dad was working in Sweden and we were supposed to go visit him over winter break.  My mom took me shopping at a consignment store.  I felt "icky" for having to buy used clothing.  When we didn't get to go, I was furious.  When I was 12, my dad was working in England.  This time my little brother and I DID go to England over summer break.  We spent a month in England living in my dad's flat.  We toured cathedrals and castles and museums.  I was furious the entire time.  How dare they make me live in Europe over the summer when I should be at home with my friends.  How are my mom make me run and go and see amazing architecture and historic places.  I flat out refused to go out one day.  I told her that I needed the day off.  Then I insisted the next day we do something *I* wanted to do, like go to the zoo.   I was a Class A brat!!!!

Fast forward to my parents selling my childhood home when I was 18 years old.  Dad had to move to Florida the year before cause that is where he got a job.  My plan was to go to secretarial school after graduation and I was engaged to be married to Tracy.  I was NOT moving to Florida.  Not only did I insist my parents pay for my apartment (since they are leaving me) but I also insisted on a new-to-me car be purchased for me since the Yugo was always breaking.  They couldn't leave me in Texas with a car that didn't work.  It was their job to provide me with a car and an apartment.  My parents actually went along with this...for a year.  They bought me the truck I insisted on having even though my dad knew it would break.  Sure enough, my dad ended up replacing an engine and a clutch and I can't remember what else.  He paid for my apartment, but I also had to work part time to help pay for thing like utilities and food.  My dad also paid for my car insurance and I had a credit card (in his name).  I was given an allowance which I used entirely every time.. and much too soon.  I was always calling and asking for more money.  And it would always be given to me.  All I had to do was cry and bat my eye lashes and I got what I wanted.  Until one day, I didn't.

I was at Tracy's folks house using their phone.  I was crying cause I needed money again.  My dad told me, "No.  I am not giving you any more money.  You need to figure this out on you own."  I was so hurt and angry.  How the hell was I suppose to live on my own and pay my own bills?  I was 18 years old.  I was in school full time.  I was working part-time and that was not enough money to live on my own.  I had rent.  I had utilities.  I had bills.  So I quit secretarial school and I got a job working full time as a secretary.  

I was still so entitled.  I thought it would be okay to go to my job at a very prestigious  property contractor office and use their time and resources to plan my wedding.  I got fired (shocker).  I still had bills to pay, and now I also had a brand new car that my dad co-signed for when my truck's engine went out a second time.  I had more bills.  I had to work.  I immediately signed up with a temporary agency who found me work until I got fired again.

All of this time, I was planning a wedding and paying for it.  My parents paid for my wedding dress; that is it.  The reception food was finger foods brought by church members.  The wedding cake and decorations, I paid for.  To pay my utilities and bills, I sold and pawned jewelry that I had inherited (something I am horribly ashamed of..but I didn't' wear it an I needed the money and my parents weren't helping me).  

Eventually I got another job as a temp (who wanted to hire me permanently).  I found out I was preggers 2 weeks before the wedding.  My dad told me that as soon as Nick was born we could move in with them and Tracy could go to college there and hopefully go to work with him eventually.  Tracy and I agreed that was the plan.  But before we could do that, we had to make enough money to afford the move.  After Nick was born, I quit my job and we moved into a 2 bedroom 1 bath apartment in Arkansas with Tracy's folks, brother, and friend.  There were 6 (sometimes 8) adults and 1 newborn living in a 2 bedroom 1 bath apartment.  I knew no one.  I only had 1 TV station.  We were broke and saving up money to move to Florida.  It was the first time I was on public assistance with food stamps and WIC.  But I had to do what I had to do to take care of my child.

We did eventually move to Florida. Tracy did go to college.  Tracy did get a job at the same company as my dad and we thought we could move out.  So we did... for 6 months.  We got pregnant with Nate and realized we needed my parents again. We move back to my parents house until Tracy graduated.

I don't know what we would have one without my parents.  But I can guarantee you, by the time Nick was born, that sense of entitlement (that my parents owned me everything) was gone.  My parents didn't owe me anything.  They did us a HUGE favor by letting us live with them while Tracy went to college.  

I know what entitlement looks like.  I know what spoiled looks like.  I do not think I was harmed (like the definition says).  So I guess I wasn't spoiled.  But I do think I was entitled.  Do I think kids these days feel entitled?  Yes.  I think many of them do.  Do I think I "spoil" my children by providing them with an amazing life or things that allow them to be better people?  No, not exactly.  When they are minors, it is our job as parents to help them become amazing human beings.  Provide them with ways to learn.  Provide them with opportunities to grow.  Provide them with opportunities to learn what it feels like to earn what they want.  Teach them that they don't always get their way.  And when they are old enough, maybe even push them out of the nest so they can learn to fly on their own.  Let's face it, as long as you are comfortable, why would you make any change on you own?  Sometimes you need a little push, and sometimes that push is painful.  I know I was pissed and I felt like I was abandoned by my parents when they told me that they would not give me any more money.  I had no idea how I was going to make ends meet.  But you know what?  I did it!  I was pregnant working 2 jobs, but I did it.  Tracy worked 2 jobs and went to school, but we did it.  It's what you do when you need to survive, and its easy to do when you are young and healthy.  You cuss your parents out (under your breath and to your friends behind your parents back..forgetting everything they have done for you)  pull yourself up by your boot straps and prove to yourself that you are resilient and self-reliant and responsible.  It's a right of passage.  It happens to us all.  At some point, we have to move out of our parents places an become he adults we were meant to be. 

I can honestly say that as a parent, this is a tough lesson for me to learn.  It is so hard to be the parent pushing chicks out of the nest when all I want to do is keep them safe under my wings.  But that is doing them a disservice.  That is harming them.   That is spoiling them (by definition).   And I know that somewhere along the line, when the kids are grown up and have wisdom and maturity behind them, they will look back and realize it was the best thing that ever happened to them.  They will realize it was the right thing to do.  Until that moment comes, I will hold them in my heart and love them and hope and pray that they learn to fly with grace and ease.  When they do, I will be watching from my perch smiling and proud! 

February 2, 2016 I Know. I Know. I Know Already!

So can we please stop sending me dreams that make me sad?

First let me say that I might have over worked my brain yesterday.  The last couple of weeks, there have been 2 times where I felt like maybe I have just over done it.  Just because I am done with my brain therapy doesn't mean I am 100%.  It just means they have given me the tools I need to live life. If I don't continue to use those tools, I put myself at risk for TBI complications.  2 weeks ago when I performed for Frankly Burlesque, I gave myself 5 days notice to put a new routine and costuming together and to perform it.  That weekend was insanely packed.  Then I went from that to deciding to perform again in a couple of weeks (with a new act) which means new costuming and choreo. AND I'm working on 2 different belly dance routines from different teachers and working on Naomi's solo.  Then there is just life on top of it.  So ya, I guess my brain is a bit tired and it started showing signs last week which is why I was grateful I had nothing planned over the weekend.  Then yesterday I had my eye appointment where they tested the optical nerves to see if they are damaged from the concussions.

I was told a while back to make sure I had someone go with me to these tests because they can take a toll on my brain.  Of course, I forgot about that and I went alone.  The test was no big deal.  However, I think it had a bigger impact on the brain than I had originally thought.  Basically, I sat in a chair with some wires attached to my head and I looked at a monitor that flashed (first) grey and white checkered screen followed by black and white checkered screen.  They didn't really seem to bother me. I got the results and drove home perfectly fine.

I went to lunch with Tracy then came home to practice belly dance choreo.  The choreo I am learning with Samira has moves that make my brain twist like a pretzel.  My head started to  hurt.  As the afternoon got closer to dinner I thought maybe I was just hungry. Or since I have not had diet coke, maybe it's withdrawl.  I went to belly dance.  I came home and my head still raged.  It was still raging by the time I went to bed last night.  I have not had a headache like this since 2 weeks into brain therapy.  I was really hoping that sleep would make it go away.

The problem is...my sleep was not so great.

I know I said I didn't want this year's blogs to be all about grief.  And I really haven't mentioned much (if anything) about grief on my facebook wall since he beginning of the year.  But the reality is, I am really missing my son.  I'm not just missing Nick.  But I am missing the way my family was before Nick.  I am missing the possibilities of when Nick was alive that have since died along with him.  I am missing the knowing that I will see him again.  The realization that he is not just in Florida for school and I will see him soon on vacation is hitting home pretty hard right now.   I feel stuff all of the time.  I acknowledge it when I feel it.  I don't wallow in it.  I don't usually allow myself to get depressed.  I will cry on occasion but it is for very short periods of time.  I talk about him.  He sends me messages and sweet things (like the rubber ducky Mardis Gras beads he showed me).

But I still hurt and I still grieve.

I don't often talk about what is going on at home.  Mostly because even though I don't have much of a filter, there are things that don't really need to be shared publicly.   When I talk about things from home at brain therapy, all of the therapists say, "Wow!  It's no wonder your brain is experiencing some serious issues.  That is alot of stress, and your brain can not deal with stress the way it used to.  You need to take care of that stuff at home."  *sigh*  Ya.  I do.  It's really easy to say it, and not so easy to practice it.  I have been through so  much pain dealing with the loss of my son.  It is unbearable if I sit and think about it too long.  And for a year I clutched to Suzy as an extension of him and because I could not bear the though of losing her too.  I am also the kind of mom that loves a house full of kids and with my grieving it was nice to have a house filled with "kids".  But there is a huge difference between minor children and 20 somethings.... especially 20 somethings that are closer to 30 than they are 19.  There is an incredible amount of stress and drama that happens in our house with the adult children living in my home.  Some of it has NOTHING to do with Nick's death and some of it has NOTHING to do with Suzy.  We also have Nate's girlfriend living with us.  She was supposed to be here a month while she found a place to work and a place to live, an its been 6 months (or so)..I can't even remember when she moved in.  I love her.  Yet, just because I love people doesn't mean I need to let them all live with me for an extended period of time with no end date.

Anyway, I am feeling the stress.  Which I think is part of the reason I am having the headaches.   And to top it all off, I had a bad dream last night.  I realize it was just my unconscious talking to me and bringing out what I have not yet realized consciously.  So here is the gist of it.  Suzy has been gone on vacation in Peru.  Things between us have been tense since the end of November when we told her that her boyfriend could not live with us.  Things got even more tense when we told both her and Tricia (Nate's gf) that they needed to create an exit strategy to move out.  It's not that we don't love them.  It's just that it is time for them to be on their own.  I can't help Nate get out on his own, if I still have Tricia and Suzy living here.  Anyway, that discussion did not go over so well with the two young women.  So ya, things have been strained.  We took Suzy out to dinner before she left.  (She had been house sitting since Christmas day so we had not seen much of her.)  But even the day she left to get on the plane, she came into the house (while I was gone) to grab something and then left without stopping in to give Tracy a goodbye hug; he had to run outside to give her a hug goodbye.  So she leaves and goes to Peru.  She is having the time of her life (from what I can see on Facebook) and I am so happy she got this opportunity.. Nick would have wanted this for her and would have approved of part of the settlement money being used for it.  Now Suzy is due to return home either tomorrow or the next day. I don't even know when.  Why don't I know when?  Well partly cause I forget everything I'm told.  And partly because we were not asked to pick her up from the airport.  We weren't asked to drop her off and we were not asked to pick her up?  Why?  Probably because she has a doting boyfriend who adores her and he is doing it.  And this is where my dream and how I have been feeling unconsciously comes in.....

Last night I dreamed that Suzy was away on vacation.  She had been gone a long time.  My family (Nate, Omi, Tracy and I) went to the airport to pick Suzy up.  We got there to find Tom (Suzy's boyfriend) there with a big welcome home sign and flowers.  We stood behind him.  Through the glass security doors we saw Suzy coming.  She had a huge smile on her face as she beamed at Tom.  She didn't even realize or show any realization that she knew we were there.  I felt this pit in my stomach.  Then I heard Nate say, "She really isn't ours anymore?  We have really lost her haven't we?"  As he said that, I kept looking past her waiting for Nick to come up from behind her. Wasn't he getting off of the plane, too? Wasn't he coming home too?

It hit me.  Nick is dead.  He isn't gone somewhere and coming home to visit again.  He is just physically gone.  And Nate is right.  We have lost Suzy (at least a part of her).  She was never ours to begin with.  People are not things to be owned, but in the sense of her moving on with her life.  She will always love Nick. He will always be a part of her.  And, I guess, by extension, this family might be as well.  But when it comes down to it, we are having to let go and say goodbye to her as well.  It's healthy for her, and I suppose healthy for us.  But the pain is not any less.  This reminder that she is coming home from vacation and Nick is not coming home with her is hitting me pretty hard.  This was NEVER in my conscious thought.  Yet, there it was in living color in my dreams.

Seeing Suzy in love with a man that is not Nick is hard.  It just is.  I want nothing more than to have my son back.  I miss his voice.  I miss everything about him.  And I guess somewhere down deep in my head I have been saying to myself, "He is just in Florida.  He will be home for vacation."  Of course, every time he came home from vacation, Suzy came home with him.  But Nick is not on vacation.  Suzy is.  And Suzy is coming home without him..because Nick is dead and she went without him.

Gah!  This feeling I am feeling right now makes it very hard to stick to my plan of giving up diet coke and sweets!  Gah!  Someone please pass me a hand full of tylenol, the biggest diet coke and all of the donuts you can find?  Thanks.

February 1, 2016 Coloring Inside The Lines Is Over Rated

From the time I was a little girl, I never did do the expected.  I would take off my clothes and run around the neighborhood naked.  The boys would take off their shirts and play; I would, too.  I never understood why the boys got to run around topless but I didn't get to.  Whatever!  I also didn't like to color within the lines or color my people "flesh" colored.  I colored my people purple, and the teacher and the students gave me flack.  "You can't color your people purple.  People aren't purple!"  Never mind the fact that the ONLY color we ever painted people was "nude" or that "white people color".  NEVER were our people brown or black or anything that was different than the white upper middle class people I shared a neighborhood with.  Talk about stifling diversity and creativity!

I just didn't fit in.  And that is okay.  It may have hurt as a kid, but as an adult (who still doesn't fit the social norm) I think I am pretty damn rad!  *laugh*

So today as I was coloring in my Sacred Geometry Coloring Journal, I colored this picture:

As I colored the first pink outside circle, it dawned on me that maybe the person who created this geometric pattern, wanted the parts that had lines in it to be painted different colors.  But instead, I colored the entire circle pink.  I also decided to keep with that theme in the rest of my circles.  I had to laugh at myself.  "Even though I am coloring within the lines, I still don't think I am coloring this correctly."  Look at what society has banged into our heads.  There is some sort of standard that we must live within.  We must fit in this pre-determined box.  We must act within a certain social norm.  We must color with the right colors.  And God forbid you let a toe hang out of that box, or yourlaugh a little too loudly, or you use the full spectrum of colors, not just primary colors!  

Instead of letting our creativity flow, we squash it.  We tell ourselves, "No.  No one will want to listen to that.  No one will want to see that.  No one will understand that."  We allow anxiety to creep in and we worry, "What will other people think?"  "Maybe it's not good enough."  

As I am typing this, I am thinking of my burlesque brother who just posted on facebook that he is feeling anxiety about a piece he is putting together.  I gave him a virtual hug and told him I believe in him (well in different words).  At the time I read his post, this blog had not even entered my mind.  Yet, here I am typing about this very subject, all because I colored that entire circle pink!

What if, instead of letting anxiety creep in, what if instead of letting self-doubt and our biggest critic have a say so, we just let art happen.  What if we accept our creative side and we follow that whimsy?!  What if, we say, "YES!!!!!"   We spend entirely too much time sitting on the edge "hmmmmings" an "hawwwing" wondering "what if" and worrying about the result of a *possibly* wrong decision.   We spend too little time LIVING and taking chances.  We spend too little time opening the window of opportunity and catching the gusts of wind that take us flying and laughing to places we have yet to discover and explore within ourselves or even outside of ourselves.  We play it safe.  We don't even move outside of our state much less our home towns.  Some people don't even travel outside of the state they were born in.  They are missing out!

Today, I spent this morning on the computer creating an email account and a YouTube Channel for my performer persona Leazetta Rose.  I made the decision to catch the gust of wind and laugh all the way while I fly through this adventure called "showgirl".  I am reopening the window to storytelling.  I am following my bliss with my dancing feet.  I am creating opportunities and saying YES!

Being authentic (to me) means living my life out loud and never looking back with regrets.  I am not going to be that scared little girl who got admonished for coloring my people purple.  Instead of I am gonna be the ballsy 9 year old who stood up to her bullies to prove she didn't stuff her bra (yes, I kept my clothes on that time).  

Remember, the person who created that geometric shape, may have had their own opinions about how it should have been colored, but I am the one who had the pen in my hands, and I get to create my life (color that picture) the way I see fit.  Why?  Because I am responsible for my own destiny and choices.  No one else gets to tell me how to live my life.  What about you?  Are you gonna catch that wind and ride with me?????