"Stand up, kneel, sit down, stand up, kneel, sit down, stand up, kneel, sit down, Stand up, Kneel, Sit down... Genuflect today!"

It was my grandmother's 83rd birthday this week, so I told her I'd go to church with her as part of her gift.  That may sound cheap to some, but it means the world to my grandmother.  She grew up Protestant, married someone whose father was Jewish, and she's had a predominately Jewish last name for the last 50-some years.  About 10 years ago, she decided she wanted to be buried Catholic.  Catholicism always fascinated her, but she didn't have the time to fully convert (she worked up till she was nearly 80).  She went to Adoration every week for 7 years to quietly sit and pray, but no one knew she wasn't Catholic until she asked about the conversion process.  She officially became Catholic on Easter Saturday 2007, and the church has become a huge part of her life. 

What I like is that her personal beliefs about the world hasn't changed due to her religious awakening.  She describes this as putting herself in the hands of the Lord.  My grandmother has finally found peace, acceptance of her life, and a purpose.  She is so heavily involved in all aspects of her church, and she has been a sponsor/godmother 5 times.  Many of these people (ranging in age from late 20s to 70s) have become dear friends to her.  A good portion of them came to my mother's funeral to support us despite having never met her, which greatly touched me.  She truly has a wonderful and warm parish.  I love how she always ends up hanging out with people not much older than me.  My grandmother is just so youthful and brassy and fun, and everyone wants to hang with her.  It gives me peace knowing that she is watched over despite me being an hour away.

I told her I wanted to come with her because hey, it's a huge part of her life, I want to take an interest, and I wanted to get to know the people she's so close with.  They knew I was not about to be converted, and they respect my beliefs.  And I do respect theirs.  I have been to services at all different phases of my life, and it has never hooked me.  I just don't care for the rituals and beliefs in any religion.  Yet, I did enjoy the homily.  She wasn't kidding about her priest being an engaging speaker who really makes things relevant to the modern world.  Otherwise, I was bored out of my mind.  I ended up having to stay with her for a meeting and a class that she didn't realize was occurring today.  It reminded me a lot of my Catholic school days (1st and 2nd gr only, never got confirmed), and I was really getting antsy.  However, I made a promise, and I fulfilled it charmingly.  But that's something I can't really do more than once a year!

I have always loved this Emily Dickinson poem:

Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –

I keep it, staying at Home –

With a Bobolink for a Chorister –

And an Orchard, for a Dome –

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice –

I, just wear my Wings –

And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,

Our little Sexton – sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman –

And the sermon is never long,

So instead of getting to Heaven, at last –

I’m going, all along.

Be a good person.  Keep your beliefs true.  Know that you don't necessarily have to follow ritual in order to find your "next great adventure" as my grandmother describes it.  But if that makes you feel right, then there's nothing wrong with that.  Just keep hate from your heart and actions.  That's my true spiritual belief.   

"And Osiris, and the gods of the Nile gathered up a big storm, to blow a hurricane, to scatter us away..."

The big news on the East Coast this week is the weather.  Earthquake, Hurricane Irene, tornado watch...yeah, we're not getting off easy!  After work this morning, L and I have been sitting in front of the TV all day.  The 2nd tornado update was too much, so we're just wide awake, following news up to the minute online, and playing video games.

This week of natural disasters has been much more peaceful.  When we used to have things like power outages or threat of horrible weather, I always used to worry about Mom.  What if there was a true emergency and an ambulance couldn't make it?  I just realized today on the FEMA website that there are all these disaster guides for mobile and immobile people.  Now, even thought it doesn't matter anymore, I feel horrible for not having a backup plan in place for Mom when she was alive.  I never thought about hurricanes or tornadoes because they are so infrequent in this area.  We don't live near water, and we don't have a basement, so we're pretty lucky.  In regards to tornadoes, I figured I would just push her bed about 5 feet closer to the middle of the house and jump on top of her with the foldout bed mattress.  In regards to possible fire, I figured my adrenaline would be through the roof, and that I would push her bed right out the damn front door, no matter how much I'd end up tearing off the side wall.  But I never thought about possible evacuation...dear god, can you imagine?

I remember being a little girl and living in the second floor of our tiny duplex.  Mom sprung right into action when there was a bad storm.  My father was usually at work, so it was just the two of us.  She would grab me and hold me as we sat with our backs against the front door.  It was the midpoint of the house so we were as far away from windows as possible and against a sturdy door.  Getting to the basement would have been too risky, though we had a neighbor across the street whose house was struck by lightning.  Sometimes I was scared, sometimes I thought it was fun.  No matter what, she kept holding me, talking with me about it, made me laugh, and just gave me the support we needed to get through the hour or so on the floor.  She was just such a wonderful mother, and I don't think I fully appreciated that as a child.  Then again, who really does until they get older?

I know I shouldn't beat myself up over this.  I should just remember how compassionate and loving she was with me and apply that to any future child we have.

Still, I don't mind having an excuse to hunker down with pizza, donuts, Mario, and movies.  When else do we almost have permission to be lazy bums?   

"Father of mine, tell me what do you see, when you look back at your wasted life and you don't see me."

Note...this couldn't be more different than the last letter entry.  This is me in the middle of working out a lot of issues.  Writing in my blog is therapeutic, and I have no shame in anyone reading this.  I do not expect comments.  I just want people to know the truth.

Dear Dad,

That seems way too cozy.  Too personal.  After all, it's been 20 years since you died, and I only really ever called you Daddy.  That was too good for you as well.  When did you ever truly act like a daddy?  Up till I was 5?  Gee, thanks.  Way to shape those formative years of my life.

Maybe I should just refer to you as Al.  But Al was a so-called "man" who tortured the women in his immediate life.  As Mom said, "Oh you're such a big man, Al.  Beating up on your disabled wife and little girl...such a man."

When people ask about my biological father, I can casually say "Oh he died of a heart attack at 38.  Oh, don't be sorry!  It was a blessing in disguise."  How can someone just cavalierly talk about their father being a piece of shit?  Well it's easy when that father was you.

I had barely thought about you on your birthday until this year.  June 23.  I'm November 23.  Easy to remember.  You would have been 59 this year.  When you died, you looked like you were that age.  The Philly morgue freezer being broken didn't help matters much.  Closed casket.  Cremation.  Barely any attendance.  People really only showed up for me or to make sure you were actually dead.  Then your "friends" and family completely ditched me.  I've met that side twice, and I can barely remember them.  I barely know my family history.  Your parents were dead by the 70s and your sister never called until you died.  I have an aunt who I wouldn't know if I fell over.  We got a sympathy card from your aunt, titled "Dear M and 'daughter.'"  Isn't it great to feel wanted?  I have been shunned all because you were/are a piece of shit.

So naturally I mourned.  I was 10 years old!  What the hell do you expect.  I knew that it was better that Daddy couldn't terrorize us anymore, but it was still my daddy.  I would get beaten for wanting to play Nintendo, watch a movie, go to the circus...I can't even remember it all anymore.  I just have a few distinct memories of you going into a rage because I did something totally innocent that you didn't like.  I WAS A KID.  A CHILD.  YOUR LITTLE GIRL.  Mom had to keep me so quiet when I was a baby because god forbid I wake you.  I walked on eggshells before I could even walk.

We were barely allowed to see anyone.  We were practically impoverished.  Mom had to sleep on the couch for years while you got the room and bed all to yourself, even if you were working a night shift.  You yelled at and beat on her more than anything.  I saw you try to choke her.  You took me to see your girlfriend and told me to lie to my own mother at freakin' 7.  SHE WAS YOUR WIFE.  DISABLED.  THE MOTHER OF YOUR CHILD.  You told her, "I hate you, but you're a great mother."  So then when you guys were finally separated, you told the green lawyer to draw up papers to steal me from her and declare her incompetent.  Even though she found the papers after you were dead, she still underwent a massive exacerbation with the MS at the sheer thought of that.  Thanks a heap for the parting gift!

And people wonder why I was scared of men for so many years and so shy and uptight.  Surprise!  I ended up making so many bad decisions with men and allowed one person in years ago who was essentially me working out my father issues.  It makes me want to vomit when I think of that.  It took me till I was 27 to find a good man, but guess what buddy, I did it.  And he couldn't be less like you if he tried.  He's everything perfect to me.  He is so disgusted by you that he can't even pass by your picture in an album without wanting to destroy the hell out of it.

So now it was your birthday, and I thought I was over all this.  Well, I'm not.  20 years later and I'm still crying like a traumatized girl on Thursday nights on a sofa.  Yup, traumatized.  I had my mother and my new life to help me transition into the next phase of growing up, but I still never dealt with these feelings.  And you're lucky I'm not putting your full name and picture out in public.  Maybe then someone from your family would randomly google you and finally give me the answers I've been longing for.  But quite frankly, I'd rather put those pieces of my life together myself.

But maybe I'm also upset because I never got to have a childhood with my daddy.  I have a few nice memories, but that's it.  You were a handsome man and you could be funny when you wanted to be.  You were into movies, music, and writing, which are all good qualities I got from you.  Yes, I can actually find a couple!  But I was forced to grow up so fast and be so timid.  Everyone says I was the only person you ever actually loved.  Ok.  I can sorta believe that as I do believe part of this was mental illness and drugs.  But why the hell would you abuse someone you supposedly loved??  I will never understand that.

I can "forgive" what you did to me, but I will never forgive what you did to my mommy.  Never.  You had amazing women willing to love you, and you completely threw it out the window and practically killed yourself while traumatizing and hurting them in the process.  I can thank you for contributing to my conception, but that's about it.

Hope karma's kicking you in the ass.

Your only child,
Chrissi

"Some girls, they have natural ease, they wear it any way they please"

Sometimes I wonder if this grownup look is a facade or a shell.  Am I really?  Do I want to just assimilate into the professional woman's uniform of heels, skirt, jacket, and layered hair?  After all these years of trying to make myself look different and unique, do I really want to just blend in?

I don't think it's much of a shell.  I'm still retaining pieces of my past (tattoos, daith ear piercing) while adding fun touches like shimmery silver nails, chunky unique jewelry, limbo bimbo hot pink toes, retro flair to my pencil skirts, dresses, tights, and flowy black clothes.  Why does this mean so much to me?  Well, I love color and fun.  I may not be able to wear purple tights to work anymore, but I can still wear my red mary jane kitten heels.  It's all about compromise.  If I'm not choosing to live an alternative lifestyle, then I have to follow dress code.  It doesn't mean I can't have fun with it.

However, my weight is preventing me from having a lot of fun with casual clothes these days.  I really wish Torrid was in more nearby locations rather than being forced into Lane Bryant prices or the emerging Kohls glitter muumuus (though their dress pants are still great).  And Old Navy, do me a favor and just increase the quality of fabric a scoch for the prices you're charging.  Please and thank you. 

I want to be flattering but fun, professional but not stuffy, unique but not reverting back to baggy and pierced.  I want to look my age while still having people think I'm no older than 28.  It's a hell of a fine tightrope to walk at this stage of life. 

It's like my favorite How I Met Your Mother ep, "Arrivederci, Fiero" when Marshall loses the last bit of his youth in his beat up junk car and they examine how every young up-and-comer has a secret piece of their youth that they desperately cling onto.  Since my tattoos aren't going anywhere and are only going to develop, I think my "cling" is that daith ear piercing I previously mentioned.  It's in a very hard part of the cartilage to pierce, is a simple lovely black captive hoop, and is the one thing I got done because a crush thought it would look cool.  L says it was my Daria and Trent moment.  So even though I've had a customer ask me if it was a hearing aid, it's not going anywhere.  I removed my brow, tongue, industrial, and gages...this is my little memory that I can have neatly tucked towards my ear canal.

I look back on where I'm from
Look at the woman I've become
And the strangest things seem
suddenly routine.
-Hedwig and the Angry Inch 

"Compromise or persevere?"

I got promoted on the 20th.  It's pretty crazy because I wasn't even sure if I should stay with this company, but it turned out I was just looking at the wrong path. 

True, why would someone want to give up stable benefits and a 401K for something that could very well fall through in this day and age.  Being stagnant and a little miserable is better than not having health coverage and a steady paycheck, yes?  No.  I was in a toxic environment that was making me increasingly upset and depressed every day.  I love my customers, but I just couldn't stand the behind-the-scenes aspect any longer.  This effected my mental well being and my physical energy.  I tried to look at job sites and to also apply internally.  But I was not meant to be a supervisor now, and I knew it. 

When I realized that I could absolutely do the customer service side of things with a whole new set of training to go through, I got excited.  I had built a tough skin (finally) over customers ripping me a new one when they don't get what they want or are frustrated. I know I can learn all this new information and processes very easily.  It is the challenge I desperately need.  The manager at the sister branch I applied at loved my energy and enthusiasm, leading to me accepting the job offer.

Energy.  Enthusiasm.

Two words I haven't heard in a very long time. 

I know I kick ass at what I do, but I lost the zest and consistency for carrying it out.  Now that I will be in a new environment with a fresh perspective, I feel so optimistic.  I have aspirations of moving up.  I don't want to wait another 4 years to do so.

I've been comparing this to graduating high school.  I have been given the tools I need to succeed at the next level.  These last couple weeks have felt so good.  Normally I would feel sad and weepy, but I will still be seeing them two Saturday mornings a month, along with having them a phone call or email away.  Normally I would feel guilty for leaving things in such a crazy time, but I can't.  I won't.

I'm free.

Goodbye decade, good riddance year

When I started this blog, I was conflicted about turning 30 and all the changes that would come with it.  Little did I know that this whole crazy year was prepping me for one of the hardest losses of my life.

I know life throws obstacles at you and the saying is you never have more than you can handle.  Well, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm starting to feel like I'm a lady of steel right now with everything that's been flung upon me over the past 13 years. 

Now it's going to be over.  Now I can settle everything legally and monetarily and move on with the next steps of my life.  Soon I will learn not to feel guilt and know that my mother is watching over me and smiling hugely over my accomplishments.  I know all she wanted for me was my own life, but this is all still really fresh and hard to feel "happy" over. 

It's even harder knowing that the last milestone Mom was there for was my 30th birthday.  Not marriage, kids, better career, etc.  Yet, I had this urge to break my writer's block and start this blog a few months ago.  I'm starting to think everything happens for a reason.  Everything's been falling into place strangely throughout my life.

JK Rowling was 25 when she lost her mother to MS, and she was creating Harry Potter at the time.  Maybe I have a masterpiece in me as well.  I won't know unless I keep writing, even if it's just about frivolous things, daily life, or pop culture.  I started rereading old books from my childhood and preteen years...it's very interesting to reread from an adult perspective.  I was an avid reader and it was an activity that Mom and I could always do together.  I heard her voice read a line in an old Judy Blume book I just plowed through.  It was crazy!  It also reassured me that she will always be with me in some way.

I've been thinking about resolutions and how I never really keep with them.  One thing Mom often said was, "If I could get out of bed and exercise, I would!"  It was never a dig at me; she was simply stating that she wished she could do something about her permanent condition.  She accepted her MS, but she also got sad now and then when she couldn't do the activities she used to take for granted.  I want to honor her by accomplishing my goals that I've longed to achieve.  There is no use in waning and whining and giving up.  I am able to do so much with my life, and I absolutely want to make the most out of that gift.  Therefore, I resolve to start doing cardio for at least 30 min a day, building slowly as time goes on.  I am not focused on numbers, I am focused on health, well being, and feeling comfortable with myself again.  Getting myself into a consistent active routine will melt this fat away and start showing off the muscle and strength I've developed. 

I'm going to finally finish what I've started and stopped for 10 years.  This new decade is going to begin with love, health, and positive emotions.  I know I can do it with all the amazing friends and family I have surrounding me.

"at least you're not alone, your friends are there too"

Lately, I've been kind of down.  It's not just because I'm turning 30.  I'm the last of my best friends to go through it over the year, and everyone else has emerged unscathed.  I know it's not the end of the world.  The one bratty thing I have is that saying you're in your 20s just feels good, like you obviously are an "adult," but are still young and still able to get away with some behaviors or actions.  When you hit 30, people suddenly start expecting you to have answers and solutions to everything in your life! 


Maybe I'm overreacting.  I hear from people significantly past the landmark age that it's actually one of their favorite decades.  Maybe I can still be "young" but with more life experience.  I have friends in all different age brackets, and my love is 4 years younger than me.  On one hand, people could be jealous that I have a younger handsome man, but on the other hand I feel like an old hag next to him sometimes.  And it's not even that big a difference!  We're on the same wavelength with just about everything and aren't even a generation apart.  And bite your tongue before you even say the animal c-word. 

I could be worried because my father didn't even live to see 39, but that's thanks to cardiac problems, drugs, and manic behavior.  I am working on bettering myself so I can live past 38 and not be a repeat of that abusive piece of shit.  I have so much to live for.  However, every time I get lazy or unmotivated or have a temper flare, I worry that I'm going to end up like him.  But I'm not my parents.  My current life at 29 is nothing like either of theirs was...hell, I was 2 when my mom was 29! 

The musical tick...Tick...Boom! is really going to help me get through this month.  I can guarantee you there's going to be a whole other post about that, so I'm going to spare any diatribes and youtube links about that right now.  But I just can't believe that something that I could only vaguely understand 9 years ago is now upon me.  "Stop the clock...take time out..."

I don't think it helps that I'm going to be in my 4th wedding in 3 years this Sunday.  It's nobody's fault, I want to be there for all my besties on their special day!  But it just really all happened quickly.  I refuse to be in anyone else's wedding until my own now!  My love joked, "Four weddings, well let's hope there's no funeral coming!"  Heh.  Very true.  I'd much rather be getting my nails done for a joyous day than putting on the black for a mournful day.

So why am I down?  Well, it's a mix of everything above, worrying about family, worrying about finding a better job and being able to be financially comfortable (there's a pipe dream), upset about gaining weight back, and I just don't always handle that well.  I'm handling it better than I did in the past though, as having my love by my side really does calm me down.  Having someone in your life who loves you and is devoted to you is the biggest gift of all.  And I didn't even find him till the very end of my 20s.  So maybe it wasn't that great a decade after all.  Maybe the best is yet to come in my 30s.  As long as he's with me, I know I am capable of doing anything.