I hear you

A group of women from my most regular Al Anon meeting have an email list for gratitude. Each day whoever is motivated sends a gratitude list to the group.  This morning I sent a gratitude list in which I expressed  how tired I am of living with this horrible problem of my son's addiction.  I guess a lot of the time I try to put on a good face.  Today for whatever reason, probably because I want attention, I exposed my misery.

I am jealous of a woman in the group.  She is probably the youngest of us.  She has a really great job in administration at a university.  She clearly has recently inherited money as well, and she inherited property in Florida.  She has two teen-aged kids and apparently has a good relationship with both.  She's divorced so she doesn't have the kids all the time.  She's dating.  She obviously comes from a close family since she just had a big ceremony for scattering the ashes of her parents in the Atlantic Ocean.

She has money, she's young, she's highly educated, she's successful, she's dating.  I have or am none of those things, except for a certain degree of success which is NOT reflected in the amount of money I earn (and I'm now financially devastated due to my son's addiction).  So I'm jealous.

Anyway, another younger woman in the group replied to my post.  She simply said, "I hear you". 

I want to be heard.  I want to be remembered.  I want to matter. 

Christmas 2016

Whirling Betty blog has been inactive for a while, just like my self-awareness and self-examination.  I believe in staying in the present, since the past is gone and the future is unknown.  So here is my present:

I began the day with an Al Anon meeting today, Christmas, at 9am downtown.  Then another Al Anon member, Ginny, and her husband took me with them to deliver Meals on Wheels in a bad neighborhood located near the area where my son began taking hard drugs.  Then we ate at Waffle House with a guy who works for them.  (They rehab rentals in the same neighborhood where we were and rent out the units.) 

My son was in my house asleep.  He still is asleep now at 3:43pm.  At least when he's asleep he's not demanding drug money from me.  So my life is best when either he's asleep or I'm away from the house. 

I don't think I've been examining myself and my life enough lately.  I attend Al Anon meetings sporadically, but I basically ignore the teachings of the program.  For reasons inexplicable, I have been failing to attempt to improve my conscious contact with God.  The only way in which I do attempt to contact God is when I think to myself, "God, thank you for the house I live in" or "God, thank you for giving me a job to go to today".  Besides staying in the now, I also believe in the power of gratitude.

Today I discovered that my son sold the $1,000 laptop I bought him just over a year ago.   That was a lot of money for me to spend, but it's the one he wanted, and my goal was to give him the best possible shot at graduating from high school, so I bought it.  He sold it for drugs and now has no computer.  

The best thing I can say about this day is that my son has so far slept through it, and therefore has not yet demanded money from me.  Over the past year he has demanded and received $20,000 from me.  And now I live in debt.

Superficially, I am aware that I am absolutely WRONG to give him money.  The stories he concocts are lies.  And the times that he shrieks about the drug dealer waiting outside my house for my money, I should be calling the police instead of handing over the money.  But it's as though I have lost control of myself. 

Superficially, I know he should not be allowed to live in my house, and superficially, I want him to move out.  But he has nowhere to go.  I suppose that's not my problem.  But have you ever been in my shoes?

I don't know what to do.  I wish I had help.

Merry Christmas.

Gratitude list:
Today's Al Anon meeting
Time spent with Ginny and her husband
My house
The location of my house
My job
My car
My son is alive
I am alive, with no apparent physical problems
I have the day off from work
My laptop
Cable TV
My dog
Today's mild temperature
There is nothing wrong with my house currently
Living in a great location for taking the bus
Pleasant meal at Waffle House today
My sobriety

sound advice

This is what I want to learn

 One of my facebook friends shared this post by Zen master and activist Thich Nhat Hanh today.  Because these words struck me as being profoundly important, I'm coming out of my hiatus from this blog in order to post it.  Maybe I'll even keep posting.  I have a lot to post about, if I can talk myself into doing it.  We'll see.

Thich Nhat Hanh

We have lost our capacity to say things calmly. We get irritated too easily. Every time we open our mouths (or write), our speech becomes sour or bitter. We know it’s true. We have lost our capacity for speaking with kindness. We can train ourselves in the art of deep, compassionate listening and loving speech. The Fourth Mindfulness Training can be our guide.

“Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others, I am committed to cultivating loving speech and compassionate listening in order to relieve suffering and to promote reconciliation and peace in myself and among other people, ethnic and religious groups, and nations. Knowing that words can create happiness or suffering, I am committed to speaking truthfully using words that inspire confidence, joy, and hope. When anger is manifesting in me, I am determined not to speak. I will practice mindful breathing and walking in order to recognize and to look deeply into my anger. I know that the roots of anger can be found in my wrong perceptions and lack of understanding of the suffering in myself and in the other person. I will speak and listen in a way that can help myself and the other person to transform suffering and see the way out of difficult situations. I am determined not to spread news that I do not know to be certain and not to utter words that can cause division or discord. I will practice Right Diligence to nourish my capacity for understanding, love, joy, and inclusiveness, and gradually transform anger, violence, and fear that lie deep in my consciousness.”

Happy Birthday, Cinque Cento

My car turns two this month, although I still refer to it as being brand new.  It's a Fiat 500, appropriately named "Cinque Cento". And it's red just like the Fiat on the cupcake.  However, there really should be two candles on the cake.........

Scientific Proof Thoughts And Intentions Can Alter The World Around Us!

Scientific Proof Thoughts And Intentions Can Alter The World Around Us!  

Check out this article posted by my friend Lynilu on Facebook today.  We've been told that our thoughts (and most certainly our words) affect our lives and world, but here's actual proof of it. 

I don't know about you, but I've never been good about being aware of my thoughts.  My thoughts are like breaths - they are automatic and unexamined.  But perhaps that's not for the best.

Meditation teaches its practitioners to become aware of breathing.  Perhaps meditation can also help with awareness of thinking.

I  have been advised to stop worrying. How can I stop worrying if I remain unaware of my thoughts?  I guess I'm going to have to do something. 

I took this photo in my garden this morning of a visitor encountering a meditating Buddha.

Enough, already, and happy new year

“Enough is abundance to the wise." - Euripide   Indeed.  This is a valuable outlook, especially for anyone living on planet Earth in 2014, where the majority of people definitely do not have enough. I have been thinking about what I want my word of the year to be.  I've never before had a word of the year, but I stumbled upon the concept when reading something by the author Gretchen Rubin.  She's great about coming up with a list of rules and goals to live by.   I have decided that I want my word of the year to be "peace". Now, to figure out how to live by that one-word rule......

Gram's garden

I have tried to find my grandmother's apartment from my early childhood on previous visits, but couldn't quite be sure which building it was, since everything is even more run down now than it was then.  But a couple of months ago I suddenly remembered her address,and after  checking with google maps, I knew it was correct.

So I walked there yesterday.  The area can only be described as a slum, and unfortunately I have to leave my valuables (phone, camera) at my father's house when I go out walking.  But I found Gram's apartment.  It looks like a regular house, but it is and was a four-family.

I was eager to revisit the special garden in back which had been so fascinating so many years ago.  It was a flower garden which had its own little cement sidewalk outlining its perimeter.  Gram and I slowly, respectfully, reverently traveled that path every time I could talk Gram into it.  (She probably felt like a trespasser, when in fact the landlady may have enjoyed seeing others appreciate the fruits of her labor).  

I was so taken by the little tree bearing beautiful berries at the back of the garden that I begged Gram to find out what type of tree it was from Mrs. Thetga, and then I nagged her every day until she finally gave in and bothered Mrs. Thetga with the question.  It was a Mountain Ash.



I was afraid to go behind the building to the stairs to her back second floor apartment, but the allure of the garden summoned my courage.  (I was afraid of being shot.  It's that kind of place.)

I guess it wasn't that big a surprise that the garden was gone, replaced by grass, weeds and rusting metal.  

But the Mountain Ash still stood.  It looks weary and lacks the orange red berries it should have at this time of year.  But it's there, guarding the ghost of a long ago garden.

In my memory, the garden was enormous, and our walks through it were adventures.  But yesterday I saw its actual size.  How can such a small space create such huge memories?


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The years are short

Please watch this one minute video, especially if you are a parent of a child.



I sort of wish I had seen this when The Child was little, but I sort of knew that the years were short...... sort of.

The best example I have of that is once when The Child was 3 years old I was taking advantage of a program offered by the school district whereby a child development specialist would drop by a few times a year to check on the development of a child.  I wasn't worried about my son's development, but I was a lonely mother who needed people to talk to about child rearing (or about anything).  So I signed up, and generally enjoyed meeting with the two counselors who were assigned to me and The Child.

But one fine spring morning, one of the counselors rang my doorbell.  The Child did what he always did when the doorbell rang - he squealed, "MAMA! MAMA! PICK ME UP! PICK ME UP!"

And I did what I always did - I picked him up.

Well, you'd think I had just committed child abuse, judging from the reaction of the counselor.  She was very, very concerned about the fact that I had heeded my 3-year-old's request.  She told me I needed to meet with a psychologist ASAP.  I was fairly sure that she intended to report me to Child and Family Services.

I went along with her diatribe, nodding my head and promising to shell out the big bucks for the psychologist.  But in my mind I was thinking, "Seriously?  You are deeply concerned that a mother would respond to her toddler's cries?  Really?  Are you afraid that he's never going to stop?  Are you aftaid he's going to be clamoring for me to pick him up when he's 16???? Really?????"

But I complied.  I dragged my butt to the recommended psychologist, a rather stern and harsh woman who would have been perfect as a drill sargent.

As I told her why I was there, her eyes widened with each word I spoke, until finally she couldn't contain herself any longer.  She leaned forward and enunciated the following words with sharp clarity:

"YOU need to get a grip before it's too late.  YOU need to get a room where you can lock that child every time he begs for you to pick him up.  YOU need to lock that child in a room by himself every single time he wants you!!!!"

I listened and nodded my head for the full 50 minutes, paid my $250 and never went back.  Let them call Children's Services on me, I thought - there's not a snowball's chance in hell that I'm going to follow their advice.

And guess what?  Turns out I was right.  The Child did indeed stop clamoring for me to pick him up.  In fact, it only lasted a few more months.  The Child is now a teen, and barely bids me the time of day. 

Yes, the years are short. 



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Mother's Day

This is NOT what really happens on Mother's Day

Notice that the title of this post is not HAPPY Mother's Day.  It's just "Mother's Day". 

Mother's Day is not happy for all mothers.  My own mother died long before I became a mother myself.  And my own experience as a mother has been that of a single mother who lives across the country from my nearest relative.  I have been a true single mother, with no help, financially or otherwise, from my son's father, and no help from any human being other than the ones I have paid to  help me.

Very few people read my blog, but if you are reading this post, I have  a request.  Do you know anyone who is a single mother?  If so, please realize that she most likely is not receiving cards, candy, flowers or Mother's Day brunch in a fancy restaurant.  Ask her if there's anything you can do for her.  I am posting this the day before Mother's Day.  If you read this after Mother's Day, do it anyway~

If I'm the single mother you know, then please apply this request to another single mother.  I am not looking for attention for myself.  I have my own plan for how to get through Mother's Day this year.  I'm going to spend some time imagining what my mother would say to me about how to spend the day, and then I'm going to do it.  (I hope I don't imagine that she tells me to run out and buy a new car........)

And I wish you a happy day tomorrow, but not because it's Mother's Day.


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Best time to book a flight

I have been wondering for a long time how to snag the best deals for airfare.  How many weeks in advance should I book a flight for the best price?  Is there a day of the week which seems to offer the best prices?  What do I need to know before bargain shopping for a flight, or is it just "hit or miss"?

Finally, thanks to twitter, I have an answer.  Here it is:

According to the latest studies, the best time to buy tickets is on Tuesdays at 3:00 pm ET. That’s when airlines tend to release their promotional fares (deals which are sometimes pulled, if not sold out, by the end of the week). How far in advance should you book? Eight weeks in advance of your trip. After that, fares tend to rise steadily as you get closer to your departure date.

 I don't travel often.  But when I do, I like to do it as cheaply as possible.  Hopefully this advice will help.
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Word of the Day: FLANERIE

"A superb alternative to succumbing to the dangers of having time on your hands is the practice of flanerie, the French invention of strolling as an art form. The flaneur is an observer who wanders the streets of a great city on a mission to notice with childlike enjoyment the smallest events and the obscurest sights he encounters. It is the exercise regimen of the artist."

 -Eric Maisel in A Writer's Paris.

This photo of Paris is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre engaged in plenty of flanerie on the streets of Paris.  These days, though, with everyone in such a hurry, flanerie is rare in any city, I suspect.  People are too engaged with the almighty cell phone to notice the "obscurest sights".  Surely all of the senses are engaged during flanerie.  Have you ever noticed how many people walk around plugged into headphones?

I'm as guilty as anyone.  On those rare occasions when I take the time to walk, I ruin the experience by hurrying, as though I must turn the walk into an aerobic event.

This reminds me of a long ago conversation with an admired college professors.  I was majoring in a field which is notorious for having few job opportunities, and I was depressed about the slim chance that I'd ever find a job in the field.  The professor told me about a time in his life when he'd been depressed and said that the one thing that helped was to go for a stroll, noticing the each of the flowers he passed by.

Maybe we all need a good dose of flanerie.



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Quote of the day

	“The true secret of happiness lies in the taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” -William Morris

This is a quote I received via email this morning.  I'm not sure what to make of it, exactly.  I do recognize that apathy is not life-enhancing; nor is numbness.  Is this related to the Buddhist concept of awareness (mindfulness) and staying in the moment?

Focusing on the task at hand would likely result in more peace.  If the mind is not wandering to its points of harmful obsession, then yes, I do see the benefit.  The mind can be incredibly destructive if left unchecked.

Today I will attempt to do this - to take a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.  Since I am accustomed to being on autopilot much of the time, this will be a challenge.

April Fool's

This year I truly tricked The Child.  On April 1, which happened to be a spring break day for him, I mentioned to him that the current real estate market in our city happens to heavily favor sellers.  There are lots of people interested in buying, with a shortage of houses on the market.  Thus, the houses which are for sale are selling fast and high.  It's a seller's market.

I went on to say that because of this, I've decided to sell our house and strike while the iron is hot.

Now, anyone who knows me would absolutely not believe that statement.  This past June, The Child and I finally moved into the house of my dreams in the neighborhood of my dreams.

However, The Child was apparently taken in by my prelude about the seller's market.  I even went so far as to ask him where he hoped we'd live next.

He seemed a bit taken aback, but did not question my declaration about selling the house. He said he'd think about where he wanted to live next and took off on his bike to spend time with friends.

About 90 minutes later, I received a text from The Child: "It's April first, mom.  You aren't really selling the house."  And of course, I confirmed that he was right.

shops in our neighborhood

I'm surprised that it took him so long.  I have raved about this neighborhood throughout his life, explaining in great and excessive detail why I wanted to live here.   It's not an exaggeration to say that it's been an obsession of mine.  The Child largely went along with it.  I remember a few years ago when I almost bought a house here.  (It never happened because I was unsuccessful at selling my old house.)  We were both really psyched about it and devastated when it didn't work out.  We had spent a lot of time in this neighborhood so his favorite places to eat and shop were here. 

In fact, on Easter 2012, the buyers of my old house finally showed up.  My realtor had decided on a whim to hold my house open that day even though Easter was not a day most people spent going on house tours.  I had just had my kitchen renovated, which my realtor said was mandatory, and I was hoping that was enough to make the small house appeal to someone.  And it was.

What happened this past Sunday (Easter 2013) demonstrated why I wanted to live here.  That morning I was up early feeding the birds and squirrels when suddenly I realized that I hadn't yet bought an Easter basket for The Child.  I didn't have to fire up the car and drive to some suburban Walmart.  Nope!  I just walked out the back door, through my yard with all of the trees I just planted last summer, through the urban park which is my favorite in the area and onto the street shown in the photo above.  A few blocks away was a small neighborhood shop with plenty of baskets, trinkets and chocolate bunnies.  My decision to move here was validated again that day, as it is so frequently.

And that's no joke, April Fool's or otherwise.

the neighborhood at night

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If you need a good laugh.......

My future kitchen table project

 

When I have time, I intend to paint my kitchen table so that it looks something like this.  This paint job looks awfully professional. Could it be spray paint?

I'm not sure when this will happen, but when it does, I will post photos.

Meanwhile, don't forget that your vote counts.  If you haven't voted already, please do so on Tuesday.  May the candidate who is best for our country win.

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This is the key

I have noticed this so many times during my life. Occasional events, acquisitions, occurrences, praises, acknowledgements, celebrations seem to make us happy.  Actually, the joy which we were each meant to experience in our lives has been lost and replaced by these fleeting pleasures, which seemingly alternate with equal amounts of gloom, as though we spend our lives on a slow teeter-totter, up and down, ad infinitum.

My reading this summer has brought me to the understanding that joy, or the happiness referred to above by Deepak Chopra,  is a state of being.  And as Deepak says, it requires no reason.  That's good news. 

Now, if I can just figure out how to access that state after decades of the habitual pain vs. pleasure flip flop.


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How pinteresting

I've always loved pandas.



I don't know what Pinterest is and frankly, I don't have time for any new pursuits, so I'm not interested in Pinterest.  But Pinterest is the source of this really cool photo.

And apparently Pinterest is allowing me to use this cute koala as well:



Thank you, Pinterest.

On a related topic, I enjoyed this viral video yesterday of a koala spying, swimming to, boarding, and finally being given a ride on a canoe.  I wish I'd been there to see it happen!





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And on top of that, Be Kind

f  

Thank you, Lynilu, for posting this on facebook.  Each time that I encounter this wisdom about kindness, I nod in acknowledgement and say to myself that I won't forget it this time.

But then I do forget.

I forget about kindness when I have been neglectful of my inner peace.  When issues are left unresolved, when responsibilities are neglected, when I fail to examine my words and deeds, that's when anger sneaks in and spews its poison.  Anger is not kind.

My intentions for kindness are useless unless I take care to establish the necessary peace of mind from which it emanates.

Peace of mind may arise from daily examination of any internal disturbances caused by one's behavior, interactions or thought processes.  Meditation, journaling, exercising, counseling and various spiritual pursuits help maintain that peaceful state.

Does this make sense to you?

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typical Sunday

Just behind my house is this entrance to a very inviting urban park which I strolled through this past Sunday.  . 

The lake is stocked with fish normally, but right now it is waiting to be re-stocked after a fountain was installed. 

In the gazebo a concert was taking place, with what looked like impromptu dancers adding to the performance.  One of the dancers had ridden into the park on a scooter (the old fashioned, foot-operated kind) with his wild costume blowing in the wind.  It was quite a sight.

Next I headed to a  popular eating and food shopping mecca a couple of blocks from the park. 

It's always full of people.

The pedestrian nature of this urban neighborhood invites chance encounters.  As I approached the park on my way home from the farmer's market, I ran into a friend from work and we spent the afternoon discussing work issues. 

And by the time I got home it was nearly dark.


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