Tuesday, January 27, 2015

None Of It Mattered In The End



I had a huge flashback when I went to the restroom at Target yesterday. As I was walking out, I noticed a Clearblue Easy wrapper in the trash can. Immediately I pictured a young, possibly teenage girl, freaking out, believing she might be pregnant and being desperate enough to take a test while still at Target. I was never that girl though. My flashback was of a different girl.

I was a 32-year-old girl who had been trying to get pregnant for two years and who very desperately wanted to have a baby – desperate enough to lie to my co-workers about what I had to do at lunchtime so I could ditch them and go to Target during lunch, buy a test, and take it right then and there. 

My hands were shaking as I tore open the package. I hadn’t peed all morning and I hadn’t had a lot of water so as to not dilute my urine. (Tricks of the trade) When the test came out negative, I began to quietly sob in the stall. I put the stick back in the wrapper and back in my bag. I didn’t dare have the courage to walk out with it in-hand and throw it away there. I took deep breaths trying to regain my composure before walking out. 

When I got to the car, I called DJ and cried my eyes out, explaining that I had wanted to surprise him, believing that THIS was THEE month I would have good news. But I never did get that kind of good news ever again – It only happened once on July 1, 2000, so very long ago. (Gabriel would be turning 14 this March. )

I thought about the mystery girl off and on all day. Was the test positive or negative? What is she going to do if it’s positive? Does she have the means to raise a child? Is she a teenager? Or is she someone like I was? Does she want to be pregnant? (I highly doubt she is a 30-something with infertility issues, trying to conceive, but she could be. Anything is possible.) I thought about how life just changes from one second to the next, no advanced warning, no time to prepare. Just BAM.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Life...One Big Fat Lesson



I’m gonna go out on a limb and share some kooky thoughts and I hope you don’t think I’ve lost my marbles. And if you do, oh well. I'm sure you already think I'm crazy for a lot of other things I've written.

Okay, here’s what I believe…I believe that my soul chose this life. (Stay with me.) What I mean is that my soul agreed to the life I have in order to grow and learn the lessons I need to learn. I learned this tidbit about our soul’s journey over a year ago while reading a book by Dr. Brian Weiss and it completely changed my perspective on life.  Dr. Weiss says that before coming to this earth, our soul is given a life-preview and we have the option to accept or decline. Crazy, right? But I fully believe it.

Knowing this information suddenly put a different spin on life for me. When I started thinking back to everything I’ve been through, I didn’t just look at the negative experiences I’ve had as tragedies, burdens, punishments, and curses, but rather as experiences my soul needed and AGREED to. Instead of looking at my past as God playing terrible, sick jokes on me, I realized that everything I went through and have yet to go through are all part of my chosen- life-lesson-plan.

It is a rather empowering feeling to know that I chose this life. Yes! I CHOSE this life. When I look at it that way, I don’t feel like a pitiful, sad case of an angry young victim who suffered and lost so much and who was dealt so many injustices. Instead, what I feel like is Wonder Woman. I feel like “Holy shit! I did it! I survived it all and came out the other end stronger and better.

(And because music is my life and in me 24/7, I keep having bits of Destiny’s Child’s “Survivor” playing in my head https://screen.yahoo.com/survivor-144811829.html mixed with bits of Kanye’s “Stronger” https://screen.yahoo.com/stronger-103736215.html as I’ve been writing this. I had to stop writing to watch the videos.)

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Listen To The Whispers


Something happened in the first week of January 2014. I just decided one morning that I was going to start cooking every night. You see, I’ve been married for 18 years but for most of those 18 years, we ate out. A lot. I would say that we ate out about five times a week. On the days we didn’t eat out, we either ate restaurant leftovers or a rotisserie chicken from Costco or I would make my famous “Chicken Surprise”. That’s what my husband named the chicken dishes I came up with that weren’t very good but edible enough. Chicken sautéed with onions, bell peppers, and mushrooms and thrown over rice. Chicken sautéed with onions and tomatoes and served with French bread. Chicken boiled, shredded, and sautéed with onions then thrown into some taco shells. Chicken simmered in a tomato sauce with onions, mushrooms, bellpeppers, and garlic then thrown over spaghetti. You get the picture.

I have never liked cooking. I have never enjoyed being in the kitchen. It’s lonely. It’s boring. It’s uninteresting. It’s tedious. I mean, who actually enjoys peeling potatoes or cutting the ends off green beans? Not me. Plus, I always had the excuse that my mom died when I was 16 and she never allowed me in the kitchen except to peel potatoes or cut the ends off green beans. (Hey! I just made the connection!) So I could say my mom never taught me to cook. Sounds like a good enough excuse to me!

Truth is…cooking was very scary to me. Very intimidating. Especially because my mom, dad, and brother are all excellent chefs. My lack of culinary skills is the reason I rarely invited anyone to dinner at my house. What the hell would I make them? Chicken Surprise for my husband and kids was acceptable. Chicken Surprise for my friends and family was not. So, if you ever came to dinner, chances are you had some type of meal prepared on the grill by my hubby or I ordered pizza. I lacked confidence and courage in the kitchen so I stayed away from cooking.