Monday, August 28, 2023

May, My Longest Month

For two years, now, May has become a challenging month, for me. It is the rainy month, the tail-end of school, a time of celebration of my daughter's birth and motherhood. It is also a time of mourning and rememberance.

Two years ago, I lost my dad, one of the greatest influences in my life, one of my guides, balancers and comforters. He was my first hero. He was a strong supporter of my quirkiness. He loved me unconditionally, and he's gone. Just gone. This hurts.

So, we're finally into the last week in May, and I just want it to end. I know time will move along as it should, and no matter what we try, it just goes at its own pace, as do I.

As I linger in remembrance of my Dad and loved ones who have passed on before me, I am grateful for the love and impact they had on my life. I am grateful for all the people who have gone before all of us to try to make our world a better place.

This inspires me to keep going, keep doing good, because in the end, the goodness and kindness and love will be my legacy. My God is Love. I am a peacemaker, peace keeper and peace seeker. Love is the way to peace, and that is my ultimate motivation.

I know I may not be able to change the world, but I can make a difference in my own world, where I go and what I do.

I hope that all my efforts and all my energy projects the love that dwells inside of me. I want and hope to be a light of love that leads others to show love, mercy, kindness and compassion. 

God, I Just Want My Dad Back!

I never knew the pain of losing my Dad would cut so deeply. I go for stretches in my busy life working through upsets and all kinds of situations. There's just always something missing; my monthly phonecalls to Dad. 
Father's Day just past, and it was a good day. The tears fall hard when I try to vocalize, "Happy Father's Day, Dad. I miss you!"
I remember you, Dad. Your eyes look back at me in the mirror, daily. Thanks for my pretty eyes. Your hat hangs on my wall above a picture of you on one of your last working days. I smile at the thought of you rolling your eyes and blowing a "pff" of air out at my dorkiness. And that's what I miss about you, most. You got me. I may have gotten on your nerves enough for you to say my first and middle name, but you loved me just the same.
You never tried to change me. You didn't force me to try to be someone I'm not. You loved me as I was.
I really miss your long, bear hugs and hearing you say, "I love you, Barbara."
Every day I miss you. Everyday seems so much farther away from you.
Nothing makes this pain any easier. There's no medicine for it, and the only thing I can seem to do is cry hard until I stop.
The tears are stinging my cheeks, and my eyes are puffy.
I tried to continue the monthly calls to your widow, but it feels like I'm a nuisance.
I didn't realize the hurt, the devastation of loss until you stopped living.
This kind of pain doesn't end.

Go Without Fear

Go Without Fear
Be brave. Be courageous. Be strong.
Take heart. Take precautions. Take lessons.
Go forth, and forge a way.
Go out, and begin. Go on, and never stop.
Lead by example. Lead by loving. Lead by learning.
If you must quit or give up, do it quietly.
Then, once renewed, rise.
Rise from the depths with a fire in your heart,
with a fire in your eyes, with a fire in your belly,
with a fire in your soul.
Show the world. Show your friends and family. Show yourself.
You are not afraid. You are strong. You are worthy.
And Go!

Go without fear.

My Mind: Where Nightmares Abound

 I have a very vivid imagination, so every dream I have is super realistic, and that's not always a good thing.

I usually do a lot of stressful work in my dreams, and in dream land, people aren't as helpful or even as prominent as in the real world. 

It's generally a dark atmosphere, and weather isn't a factor, often. The stress level I feel during my waking days gets translated into my dreams. 

I have died quite a few times in my dreams, and last night brought yet another death of myself I'd never experienced before. 

I have worked at a few AFC (Adult Foster Care) homes in the past. These are houses set up with several rooms for anyone over the age of 18 with mental or physical disabilities that require assistance during the day. They are people who just need extra care their families can't provide during an undetermined time frame. Some eventually move out and get a place of their own. Some find new people to care for them, while others are longer term care. 

Anyway, in March I had to resign from my latest AFC position. I was an overnight worker. I had to bake desserts, breads and prep some meals for the next days in the week. I also deep cleaned the house while everyone "slept". 

In my nightmare last night, I returned to work there. Everyone was very happy to see me, again. My manager greeted me with open arms, and we, both took a nap in the living room before we had to start the daily routines. 

After waking, she passed meds, and I just buddied up with clients assisting them with getting their mornings going. Everyone had to use the two bathrooms, it seemed, at the same time. I stood with a blind lady to make sure she got her turn to use the bathroom second in line, so she wouldn't have an accident. In my dream she spoke telepathically to me, but I had no clue how to respond, so I moved her hands and spoke to try to convey my thoughts. It was neat to be able to hear her in my head, because in reality, she can't form words.

I had taken a walk outside with one male client listening to his story. We rounded the corner to come back to the house when we saw two burglars run out of a house and rummage through a car. They spotted us, and one raised a rifle to my forehead. There was a bench behind me. I tapped the barrel of the gun away from my head, because I noticed the gunman was shaky, and I didn't believe he'd fire. The client and I sat down on the bench, because we were scared to run. The end of the gun was down at waist level between us. It was smoking, so I thought there was a problem with the ammo. I looked at the gunman, and he was tearing up. I thought he felt worried that his gun didn't work. I told the client we needed to get back home. We hurried inside. My manager was taking a shower, and soup was being made on the stove. I finished cooking it, and dinner was served family style.

Everyone was complimenting the food and talking to me as they either took care of their dishes or got seconds. One client wouldn't look at me, and had a hard time speaking to me. I asked him, "Why won't you look at me?" He told me, "You're broken."

I felt my forehead, but I couldn't find the break. I realized he was telling me I'd been shot. I quickly left the house, because I didn't want to disturb anyone else. My old cat, Clifford was outside, and he was taller than real life. He came up to me and let me pet him. Then, he helped another cat hunt birds in a bush. 

As I walked slowly around to digest the new knowledge, I kept clearing my throat and coughing up mucus. I thought if I was dead, maybe that was the feeling of being incubated. So, I tried screaming my own name to try waking myself up. Nothing happened. I started crying, because I was scared to get trapped in this realm of limbo. 

I screamed my manager's name in case I was still on the fateful bench. Finally, I awoke in my actual bed. The power had gone out, and I was hot under a sleeping bag. I was still scared it wasn't real until I pushed my covers off and heard birds chirping and everything that reminded me of reality. 

This brain of mine is such a scary place.

Find Your Perfect Environment

    


    Over the years, I have read and heard many fabulous quotes. Many are inspiring. Some are humorous, and others are thought-provoking.

     About a month or so ago, I came up with my own. I love the challenge of looking at life from different perspectives, and I have a nasty habit of diving right in without thinking. This has its own set of pros and cons.

    I don't take time to stand back and admire things from a distance first with the exception of freshly fallen snow. I do love to treasure the virginity of a beautiful blanket of freshly fallen snow before I run into it and begin playing in it.

    I go against the advice: "Don't put all your eggs in one basket." or "Don't put both feet in at one time."

    At a lake, I see water, and I must run right on in and get as deep as I can right away. I want to be fully submerged in the water I love so much! I can't help myself.

    It's there. It's for me. It's calling me in.

    Yes, that's me.

    Over many years, I have found life to not be so forgiving, and sometimes diving right in can yield consequences I wasn't aware of because I didn't step back, pause, and take a moment to consider the possibilities of what may or may not happen.

    That is all ok, though, because I have learned to adapt. Life throws me a stumbling block. I turn it into a stepping stone. I have been knocked down, but this isn't about falling down. This is about being resilient in the face of adversity.

    It didn't take much thought to come up with my own quote. I searched it to make sure it was unique, and it is. I don't know how I came up with it, but I love it:

"Penguins fly best underwater. Given the proper environment, anyone can soar." ~Barbara Brauher

    Think of it. A penguin is a bird, but it doesn't fly. Underwater, it flies. They are astonishing to watch swimming as if flying. I think it's beautiful, and they go so fast, they pop up and out of the water where they land on solid ground or ice. Amazing!

    So, I believe from knowing penguins are birds, but they cannot fly, they actually are designed to fly best underwater. It's where they get their tasty fish from, and they get their exercise underwater. They are very skilled and have adapted to this way of life. 

    I believe anyone can be the best they can be given the proper environment. I, myself, am no runner. I can last about 20-40 seconds before it feels like ice knives driving down my throat. I once was able to do heavy lifting and strenuous work. Now, I can't. But, if I get myself in water, I can swim for a good, long while. I can hold my breath and dive down to observe the depths for a few minutes. I find peace and joy in the water I have become accustomed. 

    This isn't a natural thing I was born with, but skills I worked to develop because I decided that I love water. I grew up going to the ocean for summer vacations. Swim class was taught in middle school, and I was always drawn to water. I learned water safety, and if I went out to be a lifeguard, I probably wouldn't pass the running and saving test, because now that I lost most of my stamina, I'd not be able to support another person's weight. That is a very good evaluation. I know I'm a good swimmer, but I am aware of my faults, and that's ok. It's better to admit a shortcoming than to be headstrong and lose a life
because I was arrogant.

Standing In My Own Way; Get Out of My Way, Me!

 A sad truth I've come to realize is most of my problem moving forward is my own self. After many years of criticism and crooked understanding of words said to me, I became my own hindrance.

I'm attempting to pursue a career and at the same time learn to love who I've become. Today, I have a goal of clearing out unnecessary clutter from my house. The thing standing in my way is me. 

This reminds me of when I was very young, and I got frustrated looking in the mirror. I wouldn't get out of my way. I wanted to get bye me, but I wouldn't move. I was a stubborn child, and I honestly wanted to step into the mirror and see what else was in there.

I used to try looking around the screen of our small TV set, too. I wanted to see more of the picture. My mind has always been curious and naive, but it has a darker side that just loves to jump in my own way and keep me from going anywhere. It's what I'm used to, but I'm tired of getting stuck in my own way.

You hear me! Me, get out of my way! I'm tired of your hurtful ways. I just want to get through this and enjoy my day. This is the perfect time for dark me to step aside and let determined me get this done.

No More Rose Colored Glasses

I turned 40 this year. It has been just about a year since my Dad passed away. My life changed drastically. My view became more clear, with richer, deeper tones. It isn't good or bad. It just is.

I know every moment in my life is important, and I don't wish to take anything back. I still make mistakes, but I'm done second guessing myself. I have great instincts, and my self worth is not dependant on anyone or anything.

I have had to let go of many people and things. It hurts, sometimes, but in the end, there is relief.

I am trying to begin my big dream, but I don't know where to start. I have too many ideas, and I have no idea of what to do next. I believe in my dream, and I do believe this will become something. Sure, I'm unsure, but I know there is a path. I just need to find it.

I used to be optimistic and thought of myself as a pacifist. Well, I'm tired of trying to make everyone but me happy. I am not God, and my happiness is important to me.

I know I had a rough start. I had a rough middle, but I don't have to finish rough. It's time to buff out and get polished.

So, no more rose-colored glasses. That means I will not be seeing others' lives as more beautiful than mine. We are all beautiful in our own right. There is much beauty in this brokenness. I see more beauty in me than I ever did because I looked at everyone else as my muse. I was seeking a way to make my life better by comparing myself to others. I thought I could make myself better by trying to be like them. That's the "rat race". Well, I'm not a rat, and I hate racing.

I know how to seek peace. I know how to become calm. In my most traumatic moments, my inner self becomes as calm as a pond at midnight. No ripples. Just calm.

I am 40. This is my year to begin, again. I am good at that. I have had to start over so many times. I am very good at adapting. Here I go, again.

David's Love Note

Mommy, I love you
More than you can see
You have always been there
When I needed you to be

I know I don't show
How great my love is
But I need you to know
All the love for you I have to give

I wish there was more
For you I could do
But all I can say
Is how much I love you

It is deeper than the oceans
Higher than the sun
I could shout it forever
And still not be done

Your smile is a keepsake
I keep close to my heart
That I open up and treasure
When we are apart

~David Brauher

This is such a precious love note my 13 year old wrote for me.  I will treasure it always.

Silent Abduction

Whether you believe in aliens or not, I don't care.
This is my honest account from my personal experience.

It was early morning Friday, January 14, 2022. I was in a dream sequence. It wasn't anything special, just another dream about driving home from vacation. 

I'm not sure when, but at one moment I got three bursts of a strange smell. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a metal table naked and under a mylar sheet. I was comfortable, and I could barely feel the blanket.

The room was dark, but I didn't try looking around. I couldn't talk, but I heard men's voices. It sounded like they were right next to me, but I saw no one. I understood this was a telepathic transmission. 
I was hearing the ones in the hallway outside the room I was in. 
The one administering the gas to me was meeting with one with a record chart and the lead. 
"This is a 43 year old mother of three. I administered 3 puffs. She didn't react to it, not even a cough."
I heard the chart get marked.
Lead -- "Interesting. Give her one more dose and return her."

The administering one placed a cozy mask with soft foam, like on a microphone. He said, "Don't worry. This is harmless gas. Just breathe normally."

Three more puffs came, and it smelled funny, but that was all. 

I was back in my dream. No time was lost in my dream sequence, and I awoke from that dream some time later. 

So, what do I make of this? Nothing, absolutely nothing, at this moment. I didn't feel violated. I didn't have an epiphany. 

My life is the same, but now I've had a first alien "dream."
I won't try to explore this any further unless it happens again. 

Fair Weather Moods

Isn't it funny how weather changes the way we feel? It reminds me of the old addage, "fair weathered friends". 

In my little world, yesterday was sunny with a high of 70℉. Today is rainy and windy. I didn't see the sun, at all. Tonight's low is predicted to get to 36℉. I felt very happy and full of energy yesterday. Today, I feel lethargic, and I have a headache. Storms have always given me headaches. I wished I could have slept the day away, but I'm in college. There were deadlines, and I don't allow myself to let assignments go.

This is the hardest part of the year, emotionally, for me. It used to be Autumn because it meant school would resume, and everything that was once beautiful and full of life died for the winter. Now, it's the end of winter waiting for the full bloom of Spring.

I love to see new life, flowers and the warm weather birds. I've missed a good day in the sun for so long, but that's part of living in the North. I enjoy a bright snowy day. I find happiness in winter by playing in the snow, feeding winter birds and baking yummy treats.

It's the end of winter that's difficult, and it's just as wet and muddy as Autumn. I am finding new ways to stay hopeful. I look forward to nice weather for a nice bike ride or walk down the road. My children and I play games, watch movies and find new recipes to make no matter the weather.

Since I don't allow my assignments to slip, I'm maintaining good grades, and that's important to me. I like to see my grades reflect the work I put into my learning. It's difficult, but to me, it's worth it. I know my deadlines, what's required of me and how much time I have left in each semester. I'm learning how to manage time and find my focus. It seems I'll have to relearn how to study each semester, too. Each course presents it's own challenges.

Serious Self Reflection

DIVING DEEP INTO ME

    This semester in college, I am challenged with figuring out who I am and why I am the way I am. I guess I didn't really give it much thought before to figure out these concepts. I love deep thought, and I love learning more about myself that I never considered before.

    To figure out these questions, I go back to where I came from. I grew up in southeast Pennsylvania in a large town, Pottstown. My memories didn't start there, though. My first memories, sketchy at best, began in Spring City. I remember moving around every few years, after my parents divorced, with my step-family. My dad, on the other hand, kept renting a house in town. That gave me some sort of grounding. 

    Dad's house was set in town. When I went to school there, I was one of the few white children in my classes, but I always felt welcomed. I loved that school, and the only girl that was mean to me was white? Yeah, from a young age, I realized white children were meaner than black kids. After the divorce, I attended a mostly white school, and I found even more mean, white kids. I was thrilled when one of my black friends moved into my school in secondary elementary, but she moved a few months later, because the mean, white kids bullied her too much. That hurt my heart. Why did the color of our skin matter? This gives me bias toward black people over white people.

    I was teased a lot growing up because I was clumsy, blonde, and hyper. There are days still that I judge myself harshly. There are days when I don't even like what I see in the mirror. I was a little risk-taker, but I never tried to cover my tracks. If I screwed up, I was sure to be found out. I, also never learned how to lie very well. To this day, I can't bring myself to lie or deceive in a convincing manner, so I don't even try. I get choked up. My face gets red, and my ears ring if I have to admit something hard to say. I still say it, but my instinct tells me, "I'm about to be in deep trouble."

    Why do I still think I'm going to get in trouble, as an adult? That stems back to being raised in a toxic environment. I tried my hardest to do my best, but that was undermined by my mother. I don't know why she decided to take credit for the work my siblings and myself did, but she did which caused my stepdad to come unhinged. Many nights we were woken up from sleeping to line up, receive hostile questioning over various things, and sometimes get physically punished. 

    My grades and performance were hindered by never knowing the next tirade of the man who my mother married. My dad didn't understand why I always slept so much at his house. His house was my safe zone. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the harsh reality of my other house because I thought anything I said would get back to my main household, and punishment would come. I saw what happened when one stepsister spoke to school staff. She got punished. I learned that adults were not to be trusted. It instilled in me that if I was going to speak up, I better be ready for the consequences. 

    Other safe zones I found were at my grandparents' houses. My grandparents showed me compassion, patience, and understanding. I grew up playing with my cousins. I learned that my family, outside my household, loved me. 

    I was hushed a lot growing up, too. It took a while for me to realize I was allowed to speak up and have a voice in any situation. I learned to choose the words I wanted to say because I didn't want to regret the words that came out. There have been times when my mouth resembled a bucket more than a zipper file. I am no longer afraid to speak my opinion except in someone else's house. My stepdad said, "when you're under my roof, you'll obey my rules." So, based on that, I will not speak against the homeowner's opinions in their house.

    Growing up in this kind of lifestyle taught me to be picky about who I grow close to and to share my most intimate details with. Sure, I'll talk to almost anyone, but I am selective in my inner circle. 

    School had a big impact on me. I learned how to pronounce my words in school, so my accent didn't reflect that of my parents. I learned about politics and how everyone should be treated equally. I learned about the separation of church and state. I learned how to vote. Without a constant religious affiliation, I learned that life didn't have to be lived like everyone else chose. I never really fit into cliques, but I had a good group of friends. I made friends with people from all grade levels because I loved the connectivity it made me feel.

    School was a big safe zone. I was safe there. I wasn't going to get physically punished by anyone. I had teachers who cared and friends that were always happy to see me as much as I was to see them. This made me love school. 

    My mother was never a helpful guide in my studies. In elementary school, I couldn't understand my math homework. She told me I couldn't leave the table until I finished my sheet of homework. I cried hard because I couldn't make sense of it. She sent me out to the back picnic table to do it, because she had to clean, and I was in her way. I never figured it out on my own. Luckily, after Dad got home, he sat down and showed me how to do the problems. He made me see that math was fun! I had very good math teachers that took extra time to explain problem-solving, so math never became too difficult for me. Learning moments with my dad showed me that a man may have more patience with me than a woman.

    Reading and history, the killer subjects. I had no comprehension skills in my school career. Reading was torture. Remembering historical dates, names, and facts didn't happen in my brain, and I never learned how to fix that. To this day, unless there is a show about a historical event, I won't remember it. Even in my own life history, I have to write and draw out on paper to figure out when things happened and what happened before another. I was so mad at having to read a history book in 5th grade, I took an Exacto knife to a page with a ship on the sea. I will avoid history classes at all costs. 

    I enjoy self-reflection. Most of my adult life has been about focusing on the betterment of myself. I promised I would never turn out like my mother. I promised myself I'd be a better wife and mother. I promised myself I would never stop learning. I challenge myself to be kinder to myself than I was in the past. I hope to always be better than I was before.



Redundancy Is Life

I have found I tend to be repetitious in my life.
I am aware some people hate repetition, but I've always found it fun.
In music, pieces of art, and in my life, repetition feels comfortable.
It occurred to me recently how even if I complain about something or find a fault, I usually repeat the action. This past week, I found myself telling a teacher that five courses are a lot for one semester. I have no time for anything but schoolwork. Here I am in my second year with five courses, but I am happier at this point because I have found time to fit in pool time and a few, other activities.
I think back to a few quizzes and tests where I answered a question wrong. I told myself the correct answer and I reasoned it out. Yet, when answering the same question, again, I still answered it wrong. In math, it's because I wasn't happy just doing the simple equation. I wanted it to be more complex. In another class, I didn't like the reasoning behind the correct response, because I had reasoning outside what was presented to me. Noticing this habit of repetition just for comfort is very frustrating to me because I know these things are not right and not acceptable. So, I have learned to accept the marks against my redundancy, and I have accepted that I choose to repeat things that annoy me.

I am trying to learn new habits, but repetition is a habit I've had since childhood. Changing that habit will take a lot of time, practice and yes, repetition.

Perpetual Optimism

Running circles in my mind
Trying to connect the dots
Chasing my friends
Doing cartwheels in my sleep
Dancing in and out of time
Trying to untangle
A pendulum of knots
Over and over again
Never finding my way back
To the frame of
My own mind
Slipping and sliding
Past the point of no return
Furiously frustrated
From the void of reasoning
With a snake
That I befriend
And sway and sing
Along with
In harmony and rhythms
I never knew existed before

Memories of broken glass

Shattered by pain

All my energy is sapped

From a life

That I once knew

Hopelessly lost

Perpetually satisfied 

By the pure defiant persistence 

Of my resilient heart and mind

I fail to fall down

And be taken under

By the sorrows of my past