Fathers and Daughters...

This picture represents what I saw in my heart a little while ago: me.  But, as a brunette.  I am a brunette, but this picture reflects what I am seeing and feeling right now.

I read a literary piece today called "A Father's Story," by Andre Dubus.  It is powerful.  At least to me it spoke volumes, but volumes I really can't understand, only would wish for.  This kind of love from a father.  At least not in this lifetime nor in this realm will I ever have this, thus I am glad to have read the piece.  

My father is still alive and I have no doubt he would have turned me in.  No questions asked.  Which is why I have a very difficult time embracing a spiritual relationship with my "Heavenly Father" to this very day.

So, because it is such a strong, moving piece of literature, I am sharing.  I hope you take the time to read it.  You will not regret the time spent.  Trust me.

~Wendy

A Father's Story- A Short Story

Random Mystery Turd

I found a mystery turd, and it belonged not to me.

I rolled on this lone piece-of-crap, an intruder in my yard.

How could this be?  High walls and locked gaits, don’t you see?

It could not possibly be from a cat.  This turd was fresh, not dry or flat.

I rolled over it again, on to my back, 

Recognizing, enjoying the familiar scent from another time not long ago.

Of course!  An opossum was the culprit!  The mystery turd is solved.

~Buddy

The Circle

The strongest word for what I feel about mental illness is hate.  I hate mental illness.  I hate the way it leaves everything in its path obliterated, broken, bleeding.  I hate the circle, the cycle.  No doctor can cure it.  There is no miracle medication.  Only a bandage, and a temporary one at best.  Why?  

My oldest son has mental illness.  He has been given multiple diagnoses through the years: ADD, ADHD, OCD, OPD, personality disorders and bipolar I.  Lots of mania.  Some depression and suicide attempts.  Jail time, lost jobs, habitual lying, stealing, homelessness, alcohol and drug abuse, emergency room visits, pumping-the-stomach-near-death moments, self-medication, the spiraling and continuing cycle goes on.

He is 26 years old, almost 27.  Once again he flipped out last night.  When he "flips out" he goes off on me.  It usually happens when his life is out of control or he is cornered for his lies.  Last night the words hurt deep.  They always do, but last night was different.   There is no way to reach him when he is in this state.  He always apologizes, later.  He labeled me "negative", "hateful", "angry", "judgemental", "cruel" and he no longer wants a relationship with me because he is "so over it."  I still have the voice message with him in hysterics and crying and completely off.  He put his labels on to me.  I listened.  I told him I loved him.  I contacted his girlfriend.  I will wait.

It grieves me beyond my ability to say that I cannot help him, heal him or take this away.  I love him.  I have never been able to do enough, yet I have done so much.  

One thing I am thankful for is that he does not live with me. We have done this too many times.  I live with fear every day of his death by accident, suicide or foolishness.

I will not post this to Facebook, because he is there.  I only needed to briefly write how I am feeling right now.

I hate mental illness.  I am thankful for NAMI and that I am not alone in this journey.  Most of all, I can pray.  I do and I will continue.

Upping the Ante

Today is the second day my weight loss plans are haunting me, especially after last night when my husband and I consumed a large extra-buttered popcorn while seeing the move, “Argo.”  This was immediately after we had already dined at Taco Bell.  Yes, Taco Bell.  Not the healthy Cantina selection either, rather I had an Enchirito and three regular taco supremes.  I’m frustrated with myself.

Thus, the stranglehold. Wikipedia describes a stranglehold as “a grappling hold that strangles the opponent.”  The opponent for me is this unhealthy, habitual lifestyle.

I have added a few more strict steps to my plan.  I bought some weight loss shakes.  I plan on eating a healthy breakfast and substituting my lunch with a shake.  I also ordered four new teas from The Republic of Tea to re-stock my supply: Organic Double Green Matcha Tea, Dream by the Fire Red Tea, Tea of Good Tidings Full Leaf - Limited Edition and Holiday Spiced Plum Green Tea Bags.  Lucky me, they threw in six bags of complimentary Red Cherry White Tea!  I was never a fan of tea until I discovered The Republic of Tea.  The only place I know of stocking this brand is World Market and Nordstrom’s Café in Santa Barbara.  Delicious teas to make anyone a tea lover!

I also am returning to Curves first thing in the morning.  My goal is to be at their doors sharply at 6:00 a.m. Monday-Friday.  The days I do not get my brisk work out in will be the times I walk, otherwise I plan on also implementing some extra walking in with my dog, especially weekend mornings and evenings.

Lastly, I found a coach/trainer.  I will share about her later depending on if she is worth my time.  I certainly am open to some encouragement and some butt kicking.  

There.  I feel better upping the ante.  Let’s see where I am one week from now.  I do not plan on stepping on a scale, either.  I will just know by how my clothes fit and how I am feeling.  All I know is I feel disgusted when I look in the mirror!

~Wendy


Want to visit the Minister of Tea at The Republic of Tea?

Today begins green tea and walking!

I love to eat.  I also love to cook.  Mix these truths with an even greater love for wine, naturally I am over weight.  I have been struggling with creeping pounds for the last couple of years.  

I do actually eat pretty darn healthy and avoid red meat (may be once or twice a year I will splurge and have an In-N-Out burger) and greasy foods.  I also strive for balance in meals I prepare, use fresh produce and eat plenty of fish.  But, I am on some kind of fat road and not at all happy with my weight right now, nor my lifestyle, so today I have decided to blog about my decision and the necessary steps to get on a realistic track to improve my health and shed this excess fat.  And it is fat.  

Being over weight is not healthy at any age, especially at my age.  (Just turned 48).  I constantly fear heart disease or stroke.  Plus, I do not fit into most of my clothes anymore.  Not a good self-image booster.  I read a quote this week that said, “real men love curvy women.”  Nice, but not foundation material for me.  I know my efforts will have to be baby steps because if I just go all ninja with this diet regime, I will never continue.  I am aware of what I need to do, but I have continually failed.  Accountability with others and/or coaching is looking really good to me right now.  I need help!  Hence, I am blogging it, putting it on paper.

I think my age also plays a huge factor in the whys and where I am actually retaining my extra weight.  The last couple of years I have put on an extra 25 pounds and it is not moving.  (But, it moves if you poke it!)  I know that I do not get enough exercise and have increased my wine consumption.  I also have begun the joy of menopause.  From all I have researched, exercise plays the most important role in losing and maintaining weight levels.  This is where I struggle, finding that extra slot of time each day for exercise.  I must raise my metabolism.  But, did I say how much I love wine?  This will be the hardest to taper.  At least red wine is full of antioxidants, so I credit this to hardly ever being sick.

Thus, two things I am implementing effective today is the addition of green tea to my diet (at least 3 cups per day) and walking every morning or evening.  I do love to walk and always feel so good when I regularly exercise.  I need to tweak my schedule to make this possible each and every day.  Work and school keep my daily calendar strapped, and I certainly cannot give up on my sleep, in fact, I need more sleep than I already get.  I will also pay attention to drink more water, especially before meals, and reduce my portion sizes, particularly at dinner.  

Wish me luck!  

~Wendy


Health Benefits of Green Tea
http://www.webmd.com/food-recipes/features/health-benefits-of-green-tea

Love for my son

This morning I watched the video of actress, Sally Field, accepting the HRC’s Ally for Equality Award on behalf of equality rights and her son, Sam introducing her, and I felt a mixture of regret, sadness and hope.  What a beautiful woman Sally Fields is, inside and out.  I wish with all my heart I would have been the kind of mother like Sally with my son, especially during his teenage years when he struggled privately with his sexual identity.  If I could go back in time and change anything in my entire life, it would be these years with him.  The past is in the past, but certainly leaves its mark.

(Video posted at conclusion)

First off, let me travel back in time, to some of my past.  I grew up in an extremely dysfunctional home.  Alcoholism, violence, and just total disaccord affected the life of my brothers and I.  Trust me, we learned to keep many secrets ourselves.  One main strand that was woven through the fabric in our family was prejudice of all types, which my father strongly displayed, along with a strict Catholic and then Christian upbringing.  I have since separated “religion” from “the love of Jesus.”  Two complete polar opposites.  I grew up under judgement, fear, shame and standards that left a residue.  Hence, homosexuality was something to fear and try to change, as well as a subject I pretty much knew nothing about.  The only things I knew came from the movie, “Deliverance” and what happened to men in jail.  Never in my life did I want either of my sons going through something like this!

When I found out my son was gay, I panicked.  Literally.  I went into some kind of shock.  The past came rushing in and I had no idea how to handle anything.  I reacted instead of responding.  And nothing remotely close to resembling Sally Fields.  One struggle I did have was the war going on in my heart: my love for my son versus what I had been taught growing up and in churches.  Mix in lack of any kind of understanding or education of how someone feels coming out and their struggles made for just some despairing couple of years with my son.  In my mind, I could be the one to “save” him out of this lifestyle and it was my job to try to do this.  This was a horrendous burden to carry and even more horrendous for my son.

However, most importantly, one of my main battles was the fact that my son was having sexual encounters as a minor.  Most parents would find this difficult as well and would strive to prevent.  I do not think he realizes that it did not matter to me at the time in essence whether he was gay or straight, it was all about the sexual activity as a minor.  

Anyway, we had a huge falling out when he was 16.  It was the most painful time in my life, the subsequent separation from him.  There were harsh words spoken, anger, and a physical separation that ripped my life apart.  Literally, I struggled with depression, anxiety and my wine consumption tripled during this time.  I missed him desperately and hated what had transpired between us.  One misunderstanding led to another, and our relationship spiraled into a place of total decay.  If I could go back, I would have embraced him from the beginning when I became aware of his struggle and chosen soft words and just listened more.  I would never have judged him.  I now judge no one.  We all have our crosses we bear.  Religion can be extremely harsh and ugly, and I hate the twisted way it affected me during these important years with my son.  

To end, I am so thankful the past is in the past.  I have broken free from untruths in my upbringing, prejudice and judgement that comes from small mindsets of religion, and thank God daily my son and I have reconciled.  I totally dig him.  We have always been so alike.  I am extremely blessed to have such a friend in my son.  I love him, I love being around him, I am so interested in his mind and what drives him, his joys, defeats, obstacles, and yes, even his boyfriends.  There is just no way NOTHING could ever separate my love or me from him ever again, and now I have the rest of my life to show him my acceptance, my personal growth, my understanding and my undying love for him.  One day I hope he completely understands and forgives me for the years when I was not there for him.  This was never my heart speaking or in action, rather it was ignorance, pride and anger.

Kevin, I love you.  You rock my world and always have.  I hope one day I can be the kind of mother Sally Fields is to her son, Sam, to you.

~Mom


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hdvyvLhw2s&feature=share

Panera Bread or Bust!

Last night my husband and I dined at our local Panera Bread for the first time.  I decided to blog about our experience because it was just oh so amazing!


First, the deco was warm and inviting.  Straw-colored golden walls framed with chocolate hues, lots of reds (my favorite color) and beautiful paintings of wines and breads.  Point!

The menu was fabulous, so many selections of different healthy sandwich’s, soups, salads, fruits and hot or iced teas and coffee latte’s.  We immediately chose the newest item, the new roasted turkey and cranberry panini, and we chose the “You Pick 2” served with a second item, their “Natural Sonoma Chicken Stew topped with a Dry Jack Cheese Biscuit.”  Yum!  With this healthy meal we were allowed to choose an apple, chips or more bread.  We chose the apple, and iced green tea.  Point!

We then chose a cozy booth and waited for our meal.  And waited.  Then waited.  Finally an employee came to our table informing us after 30 minutes or longer that they were out of “panini” bread.  This amazed us, seeing panini is one of Panera’s specialty breads and used for this new turkey/cranberry item on their menu.  So, we chose sourdough instead.  And waited.  Then waited.  We noticed many other people “waiting” as well.  One lady sitting in the booth next to us “waited” for about 45 minutes for her Cobb salad.  They forgot her apple, so she was rewarded with a “courtesy cookie.”  

Our meal finally arrived.  We too were rewarded with “courtesy cookies” for our lengthy wait.  My husband is a sweet-aholic, so he was pretty jazzed about this.  Point!  The first bite of the sandwich was delicious.  Point!  But, shockingly enough both our bowls of stew were cold.  Not luke warm, cold.  There was a dry jack cheese biscuit floating in the middle of cold stew.  Fail! I returned both bowls, informing the kitchen staff that our stew was cold.  They quickly took the bowls and assured me they would provide us with two new steaming servings of stew promptly.  

My husband and I ate our apples and waited.  And waited.  Then waited.  We finally ate our now cold sandwich’s (meant to go with the stew) and waited.   Then waited.  Finally, my husband went to check on our stew.  He discovered the bowls still sitting on the counter, untouched, and tried to teach the kitchen staff how to use their microwave.  Fail!  Enormous fail!

Did I mention the employees at our local Panera Bread appeared to be no older than 22 years of age?  During our dining, we witnessed numerous “courtesy cookies” to other customers, apologies, and perplexed looks.  One little gal was the only employee attentive to us and apologetic.  

Back to the stew.  It finally came and was delicious, along with two more “courtesy cookies.”  The original cold stew was a result from water not being replaced in their steaming crocks; thus, the soups sat in kettles cooling rather than steaming.  

In conclusion, we were presented with a $25 gift card credit for our entire meal, along with multiple apologies to go with our “courtesy cookies.”  Point!  All in all, we did enjoy our first time at Panera Bread.  The food was delicious (especially warm), the cookies are dangerously addicting, and the entertainment watching so many young people scatter about dealing with complaints, malfunctions in the kitchen and delivering “courtesy cookies” was worth it all.  However, the best response to all the problems of the night came from the supervisor, who informed us that “they had only been there a year” and to “bear with them.”  A year?  Fail!

We will go back, though.  My only wish is that they served wine!

~Wendy

Fearing or Loving Literature?

Eat-and-be-full-reading is the most satisfying joy in literacy.  Many people hear the word “literature” and cringe.  I think the cringe may come from the fear of boredom and blandness.  I can remember school days in the past filled with English and literature teachers who should have never taught such a subject and caused damage to the wonderment of word-hungry students.  Literature reflects a deeper meaning of the written word that touches the heart and mind powerfully.  To me, literature engages the emotions of the reader from the response to visualization within ones imagination.  Literature does differ from other forms of writing, in that it truly touches the soul in one way or another, in fact some literature pieces can literally choke me up by moving my imagination so strongly.  

A literary critic is one who can define particular pieces of literature from ordinary writing by the different genres that captivate various styles of satire.  Wayne Clugston states in his book, Journey Into Literature, that the study of literature can be introduced “by identifying two ideas that every reader must understand: literature exists in the imaginary world of its creator, and it is accessible (experienced) through intentional imaginary connection to the creator's world” (2010).  No matter the type of critique used in defining a literature piece, usually there is always an artistic quality to the work written, whether it is a play, poem or story.  Even when a literary subject is ugly or painful, literature is most definitely beautiful and affects the reader movingly on a universal level.

I read constantly and on a daily basis for both work and personally.  I especially enjoy pleasure reading, and I do underline, take notes, and even mark in books I most love.  I am so fond of the smell of books and am not afraid of causing signs of wear, in that I sometimes may fold over a corner of a page to mark my place, a bad habit I am working on omitting for the use of a bookmark.  I never thought I would love my Kindle so much because I enjoy the feel of a book in my hands, but I do.  My reading has actually increased with the ease of downloading books to my Kindle and the organization abilities it has to keep track of my notes and underlining.  

I am keen on all types of novels and reading subjects, including literature.  Writing styles that especially draw me are those created by writers who can pull a reader into a story by way of causing a reader to take on the skin of the character.  This is true literature. 

A short story I especially enjoyed and recommend for those fearful of literature is written by Kate Chopin, born Katherine O'Flaherty (February 8, 1850 – August 22, 1904), who was an American author of short stories and novels.  According to Wikipedia, she is now considered by some to have been a forerunner of feminist authors of the 20th century.  Sample one of her short stories, “The Story of an Hour,” here: http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/StorHour.shtml.  (It will cost you nothing but your time to engage in some enjoyable critical thinking and pull you into the emotions of the character, Mrs. Mallard.) 

~Wendy


Reference

Clugston, R.W.  Journey Into Literature (2010).  
Kate Chopin, Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kate_Chopin.