It has been brought to my attention that I am seriously over due for a blog update, by one of the people I care about most in this world- my best friend Monique. She is right, so here I am at 7 am, at task.
This last 12 months has been something else, a lot of good and a lot of "Seriously???"
In the last year I lost a relationship (said good bye to an odd and nearly one sided friendship), became best friends with one of the most amazing people on the planet, saw my fledgling business alternately struggle and soar- oddly within weeks of each other, ignited a spark in troubled family relationships and watched as the spark went out ... yet again. I was featured in a news paper article, on the front page of my local newspaper mid December 2012 for being a local artisan who sells globally, like on Etsy. And of course I was diagnosed with a syndrome that will forever affect the quality of my life last April, fibromyalgia.
As always, like for most people, the coming of the new year brings a mixture of joy and dread. The possibility, the dream of starting anew tainted with an obscene amount of self flagellation, self-absorbed pondering, regret and eventually desperate resolutions.
Over the last week and a half I have emotionally flogged myself for not being what others want me to be, for failing to meet their expectations, for not fitting the mold they envision for me. I have wondered about my short comings, what I could have possibly done to have been tossed aside yet again, what I could do to make them want me a part of their lives again.
I told my husband last night that I do not want to be like the person previously mentioned who once had been my friend. I ended that relationship because it was no longer a giving/receiving relationship, I feel it turned into me mostly giving.
Since ending it- which ended in this person refusing to see that it was over, and with her contacting me on every mode of communication on the internet ( Twitter, Youtube, mine, my husband and daughter, and my other friends Facebook accounts, Etsy, all of my email accounts, my husbands email, texts to my phone and my husband's cell), this person has pretty much cyber stalked me. I clearly told her over each mode of communication that I did not want a relationship with her anymore, and yet she persisted, to the point of me telling her I would call the police if she did not stop harassing me.
To date, over the last 11 months I still have received 3 or more messages/emails above and beyond about 50 communications already mentioned via messages, emails and texts. Which boggles my mind. Why would a person continue to pursue a relationship where she was so clearly not wanted anymore?
Last night I realized I was that person. I have people in my life who would rather be done with me. I know by their actions, their behavior towards me, their lack of wanting to communicate with me... and some of these people are my family.
Over the last week and a half I have beat myself up for not being who they want me to be. Wondered what I could change to make them want me back in their lives. I felt as though they were trying to fit me into a vessel of their choosing, in a shape they desired, and I desperately tried to squeeze myself into that vessel.
Last night this made perfect sense to me: I am a vessel in my own right. Yes I am human, and my vessel is flaked and cracked, scratched and stained... but what some people would find distressed and damaged other people have found "antiqued" and charming, maybe even shabby chic *smile*.
Why would I continue to waste my time and energy on being someone and something I am not? Why try to squeeze myself into their mold of who they think I should be, then be disappointed along with them that I don't fit in that shiny new vessel they want for me?
Fighting back tears momentarily while talking with my husband in the wee hours, in the comfort of darkness and our bed, all of this dawned on me.
For this new year I choose to stop wasting time on trying to be the person other people want me to be. I have decided to stop of wasting energy metaphorically trying to fit my plus sized body into skinny jeans to please other people. Instead of trying to be a better, different person I am going to take that energy and focus on being a better me.
I will repair this vessel. I will fill in the cracks, sand it, maybe put on a new lacquer that enhances the beauty of who I am, instead of chiseling away at myself or painting over everything and losing who I am. I can be a better me: a better wife, friend and mother.
So my reader, this is my wish for you as well for this new year. My wish for you and I is that instead of beating ourselves up with resolutions, hating bad habits and shortcomings we feel about ourselves or imagine what other people see in us...
My wish for us is a year of self acceptance and love, along with a little sanding and buffing.
Be flawed. Embrace your patina, chips and cracks because after all they are what make you uniquely you.
Peace, love and laquer to you,
Mary
Showing posts with label love and loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love and loss. Show all posts
Thursday, January 03, 2013
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Rest in peace
How exactly does one sum up the life of a loved one? Do we view and review their lives a little less if they are a family pet? I'd say that if you loved your pet even a little, this would not be the case. Love lost is love lost, no matter how many legs your loved one might have.
Numa started what we like to call the herd... I went to find myself a kitten, mean while Numa had other plans. She put on her best face and immediately began to fawn all over my husband. Yeah, you could say she was a bit of a ho'. :) John decided that he wanted the momma kitty (Numa), and I wanted a kitten (Sophie), so we compromised and each got the one we wanted- after I refused to back down.
We took Numa home a year after we were married and let me tell you, that cat drove a wedge between the MISU and I. Litterally. If John and I were snuggling, she would plop herself right down in between us, or on his lap... and the lovins that were once mine were now split between the 2 ladies in his life. I was a jealous wife, I was not happy.
Numa and I came to an understanding early on, the arrangement was still not quite equal if you ask me. She got his attentions during waking hours, and I got what was left over... usually while the MISU sawed logs.
We saw Numa through her second pregnancy, most of which John and I were away in the Persian Gulf. Yup, while her parents were away at war, she got knocked up. Lookin for love in all the wrong places, sheesh. This new litter would give us another of her fur kids, Ivan.
18 of her 19 years were spent with us, and I will say that she was a surly foster mother to 5 other kittens (besides Sophie and Ivan, her own) , and at one time ruling over the Herd- 6 cats. I have affectionately called her Big Momma, or Momma Kitty since then.
Numa never lost her spark or spunk until about a year and a half ago, and since then it had been a slow and steady decline. She had a hard time moving around, she was after all about 166 in human years. Over that last year and a half, John and I had contemplated more times than I have digits to count on whether or not we should put her out of her complete and utter misery. We'd think about calling the vet, talk about calling the very next day, and that would be the day Numa would decide to get up out of bed, clean herself and chat with the family. I kid you not, every single time.
Yesterday was different. I checked on her while she was sleeping and noticed that she had stopped breathing. I continued to watch for several seconds, holding my own breath in dread until I saw her chest move again. This time it lasted over 20 seconds, and her eyes were open. Nausea set in, and I stood there paralyzed. Part of me was relieved... yet so devastated and sad.
Numa repositioned herself and began to breath again, and I continued to stand there in horror. No, she hadn't gone peacefully like I had hoped. She smelled the hot dogs I fixed for the girls and raised her head a bit, and I noticed that just this small movement was quite an effort for her. She was breathing fast and shallow, her eyes half lidded as if she were in pain.
I gave her a few pieces of hot dog which she barely touched, which was very unusual for her.
I called John... and watched her suffer to her feet. She moved around painfully and restlessly for another half an hour until she finally couldn't take any more... and uncomfortably went back to bed.
Yesterday, we had to make 5th decision in 4 1/2 years... It never gets easier, it never gets less painful.
We decided to bring her home and bury her under our pine tree in the back yard, and put the ashes of Yuri (who died 12 years ago as a kitten, from a heart problem), Ursa, Seven, and the ashes of her kids Ivan and Sophie with her. We said a prayer and thanked God for sending Numa to us, for giving us such a wonderful, noisy and sometimes grumpy cat. We thanked Him for taking care of her for us now, and for showing her the way to the place where her kids and foster kids now play.
It's the end of an era and almost 2 decades, lady... we love you and miss you. You were such a good kitty.
Rest in peace, Big Momma.
Numa started what we like to call the herd... I went to find myself a kitten, mean while Numa had other plans. She put on her best face and immediately began to fawn all over my husband. Yeah, you could say she was a bit of a ho'. :) John decided that he wanted the momma kitty (Numa), and I wanted a kitten (Sophie), so we compromised and each got the one we wanted- after I refused to back down.
We took Numa home a year after we were married and let me tell you, that cat drove a wedge between the MISU and I. Litterally. If John and I were snuggling, she would plop herself right down in between us, or on his lap... and the lovins that were once mine were now split between the 2 ladies in his life. I was a jealous wife, I was not happy.
Numa and I came to an understanding early on, the arrangement was still not quite equal if you ask me. She got his attentions during waking hours, and I got what was left over... usually while the MISU sawed logs.
We saw Numa through her second pregnancy, most of which John and I were away in the Persian Gulf. Yup, while her parents were away at war, she got knocked up. Lookin for love in all the wrong places, sheesh. This new litter would give us another of her fur kids, Ivan.
18 of her 19 years were spent with us, and I will say that she was a surly foster mother to 5 other kittens (besides Sophie and Ivan, her own) , and at one time ruling over the Herd- 6 cats. I have affectionately called her Big Momma, or Momma Kitty since then.
Numa never lost her spark or spunk until about a year and a half ago, and since then it had been a slow and steady decline. She had a hard time moving around, she was after all about 166 in human years. Over that last year and a half, John and I had contemplated more times than I have digits to count on whether or not we should put her out of her complete and utter misery. We'd think about calling the vet, talk about calling the very next day, and that would be the day Numa would decide to get up out of bed, clean herself and chat with the family. I kid you not, every single time.
Yesterday was different. I checked on her while she was sleeping and noticed that she had stopped breathing. I continued to watch for several seconds, holding my own breath in dread until I saw her chest move again. This time it lasted over 20 seconds, and her eyes were open. Nausea set in, and I stood there paralyzed. Part of me was relieved... yet so devastated and sad.
Numa repositioned herself and began to breath again, and I continued to stand there in horror. No, she hadn't gone peacefully like I had hoped. She smelled the hot dogs I fixed for the girls and raised her head a bit, and I noticed that just this small movement was quite an effort for her. She was breathing fast and shallow, her eyes half lidded as if she were in pain.
I gave her a few pieces of hot dog which she barely touched, which was very unusual for her.
I called John... and watched her suffer to her feet. She moved around painfully and restlessly for another half an hour until she finally couldn't take any more... and uncomfortably went back to bed.
Yesterday, we had to make 5th decision in 4 1/2 years... It never gets easier, it never gets less painful.
We decided to bring her home and bury her under our pine tree in the back yard, and put the ashes of Yuri (who died 12 years ago as a kitten, from a heart problem), Ursa, Seven, and the ashes of her kids Ivan and Sophie with her. We said a prayer and thanked God for sending Numa to us, for giving us such a wonderful, noisy and sometimes grumpy cat. We thanked Him for taking care of her for us now, and for showing her the way to the place where her kids and foster kids now play.
It's the end of an era and almost 2 decades, lady... we love you and miss you. You were such a good kitty.
Rest in peace, Big Momma.
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