Upsie, Downsie, All aroundsie

Well...

I have a friend. We share alot of things in common. We are both strong willed. We both believe we are mostly right most of the time. We both have children with challenges. We both have the need to "complain". I take umbrage at this word. I like to call it constructive catharsis. Women overall need to vent. We need to share. We need to GET IT OUT. When you find someone to whom you can GET IT OUT and that person doesn't think you are completely damn mental - you hang on to that person for dear life. And you share moments of constructive catharsis together.

Sometimes I feel like I should join a club like AA - Hi My name is Elizabeth and my son has challenges. I wonder how that would feel. To have a group dedicated to constructive catharsis but maybe with drinking games or something to shake things up. I don't share easily. When my dad died, I went to Bereaved Families of Ontario. My therapist at the time said I had "anger issues" I needed to deal with. Well duh. I refused to share at this group. I refused to cry at this group. The one time I did cry, I left and went to the bathroom to do it. These people did not believe in constructive catharsis - they believed in wallowing in pity and despair. Forget it - not my bag. Myself and another participant kept looking at each other like what the hell are we doing here ?? Hence my fear of support groups. If I want to feel worse than when I started my day - I'll stay home.

I like discussions where constructive catharsis takes place and I get to hear how someone is handling their issue. I get to learn. I get to feel empathy and empowered. I get to share my woes and issues and how I have dealt with them. I like leaving a conversation knowing I am not alone and that other mother's will go the mat for their children even if it does include dribbling spit down their shirt. That I respect. That I get. That is the kind of person I like to share with.

The last couple of weeks have been like no other. It's been a long time since I've wanted to crawl in to my bed and never come out. The stress has been killer - the kick ? My son is doing better and better. At a time when my stress from outside sources is at an all time high, my son is making progress. I see hints of maturity. I see him trying to take charge of his stuff. I see him remembering things that I have forgotten. I see him taking his medication without being reminded. I see him keeping his room tidy - although I fear to look in his closet. I see him doing better in school even though he still doesn't like it. I see him growing and changing. He still drives me mental but even when my life is upsie, downsie, all aroundsie thanks to the gift of constructive catharsis, I can take a step back and appreciate my boy. Because I have been able to vent out all that crap that is going around in my head, I am able to read quietly with my kids. I am able to remember to count to 10 before asking Thomas to do something again. I am able to lower my voice and not immediately go for the shout when I'm asking for the third time. Because of constructive catharsis I know I am not alone. I know that others share my fears and aggravations. I am not so hard on myself because of constructive catharsis. I am not so hard on others as I see their life is all upsie, downsie, all aroundsie too.

So thank you my friend for sharing your constructive catharsis. Thank you for listening when I need to share mine. Know that I will never tire of listening to you. Know that I will always lend an ear, a shoulder, a hug if you need it. Know that I value you and all your stuff you need to let go of. Know that I can empathize and sympathize although I will never truly understand. Know that I care from the bottom of my heart. If you need to call me for some old fashioned bitching - that works too.

What Can We Learn ?

Well...

I just linked to a blog called ryestar. Very interesting man this Ryan. I thought I had deep thoughts and a fairly diverse and extensive vocabulary until I read this gentleman's blog. I suffer from periodic bouts of self doubt and self deprecation in case no one has noticed.

What I found interesting about this man's blog is that he wrote. Not about boobs and farts and whatever else men think about. I don't mean to be shortsighted but most male conversation does revolve around balls - either theirs being scratched or one that is being kicked around a field, carried under the arm or wacked with a little stick. This man was quite deep and he actually showed emotion. He showed admiration and respect for his fiancee. He showed the ability to observe the power of nature that most seem to ignore or be oblivious to. He showed tenderness and wonder about a small child and the new eyes with which they see the world. In short, he blew my perspective about straight men right out of the water.

God love my husband - he can carry a decent conversation about anything from golf, to politics, to home repairs. I can lose him for hours at a party and he's had five completely different conversations with 10 different people. But emotional things, not so much. He is not distant or unemotional he is just able to feel it, experience it and let it go. He doesn't brood or let things fester. Not nearly long enough as far as I'm concerned so that way I don't feel bad when I bring something up over and over and over. He does cry. He does vent. He does get blue. Most importantly, he supports me when I do. But I think overall he'd rather discuss balls.

So thank you ryestar. You've opened my eyes to what men are capable of. You've shown me that men can blog in a reasonable manner with thought and feeling. It's always nice to start the day by learning something.

Lessons Learned

Well...

For the longest time I gathered life experience not knowing why. Sounds odd but here's what I mean.

We go through life and we experience things. Some people continue to live the life they are leading and some choose to embrace the experience and change. Some people don't think anything of the experience and some analyze it and put it to use. Some people don't realize that they are experiencing anything and others put meaning to everything that happens. I happen to fall in to the latter category.

I tend to keep experiences very close. I tend to analyze them, look for the meaning and see what I can do with it. Mostly I use them to become a better human being. I've managed to learn to control my mouth - some would disagree. I've managed to become a better wife - I hope he would agree. I've managed to become a better mom - the therapy bills will tell the truth on that one. I've managed to become a better daughter - a long time coming I can tell you.

My friend Stefanie once commented that there are several qualities about me she really likes. This is good as we've been friends over 25 years. I'd hate to think she'd waste all that time on someone whose qualities she abhorred ! Anyway - what suprised me was that the qualities she liked were my penchant for introspection and my ability to change my mind. These things have been developed over time in response to ticking people off. Not that I would change myself for others but I don't want to walk around having people plot my demise either.

I've chosen to do this for a lot of reasons and have found it quite successful. One other conclusion that I've come to is I am meant to experience all these things so that I can share it with others. I came to that conclusion a long time ago and for several reasons as well. One - things kept happening to me. Big, life altering things. And two - people kept talking to me. Friends, strangers, acquaintances. They all kept coming and still come to talk to me about their problems. Sometimes to vent and sometimes to help solve said problem. My mom even made me business cards to hand out which said, "If you need a wedding planned, lawyer disbarred or something taken care of - call Elizabeth" complete with my picture and number. Odd, but true.

So while I search for the meaning in my life, I remember that helping others is part of it. I think I go through these things to learn from them, build on them and share what I've learned. I assumed for a long time that everyone did this. I assumed that if little old me did this, then all people must want to learn and grow and change. I've since been disabused of this assumption and have learned that 90% of the population have a hard time figuring out how to tie their shoes.

So here I am with my A child, my life experiences and my thoughts and feelings. I decided that somebody needed to hear what I had to say. They keep coming and asking me anyway.

But serioulsy...

Well...

Suprising thing about blooging. You can start out bummed and then vent to no one and feel much better.

I still think life is about whatever gets you through the day. And I still think that it sucks that you collect all these experiences, friends and memories and then you are worm food. But I also think that God has a purpose for me and if it means sticking around to find out then so be it.

I do have to say that with all God's wisdom - why the heck would he invent fruit flies ? My damn house is full of them and the lizard doesn't seem to be interested. Just like a man - cute but useless. Always up to the woman to kill the bugs. Sheesh.

To all my friends - I love you. I'm glad you are part of my memory making experience on this earth. If I have to spend time here, at least I get to meet nice people on the way !

My Friends

Well....

I've done it. I've told my friends my dirty little secret. I shared my blog. I wasn't going to share it with anyone but somehow it has become easier. They are my oldest friends in the world. If anyone "gets" me, they do.

Most of the time I don't give a rat's butt what people think of me. Like me, don't like me - eh. If you are stupid, I tell you. It might be subtle but you will know. If I like you, I tell you. Not so subtle but you will know. I am very black and white. My friends would say that about me. Here's what else I think they'd say:

She is crazy.
She is a great baker.
She shouts too much at her kids.
She is too hard on herself.
She loves large.
She has a big heart.
She hates being called Lizzie.
She is smart.
She is kind.
She can be mean.
She loves me.
She worries too much.
She thinks too much.
She bakes too much.
Well, they probably wouldn't say that as they do like my baking. But you never know.
She is creative.
She is negative.
She can be abrasive.
She can be witty.
She is funny.
She is my friend.

I have often wondered why my friends are my friends. It has always astounded me. I have never felt worthy. I have always been afraid that I will push them away or they will discover that I am not really worth hanging on to. My other dirty little secret. My friends were capable of crushing my heart. What a load to put on someone. What power I gave away.

As I age, I have taken some of the power back. I don't think they knew they had it but maybe they did and it's been their secret. I still love them. I still admire them. I still smile when I think of them. They are deep in my heart for always. But it doesn't crush me as it once did if they don't call. It doesn't hurt me as it once did if they go out without me. I used to take that all so personally and painfully. I felt like I wasn't worthy and they agreed. I don't think they ever knew or if they did, they kept it quiet. Just a part of being my friend - accepting my insecurities.

Friends that I have made as an adult - they don't have the same power and probably never will. I have made these friends when I was at a much better place in my life. They are based on different things and different needs. I can let people come and go now and accept it much easier. Change was never my friend.

I have grown so much as have my friends. We have grown up together. I visit them now and again as we were. I don't think I dwell in the past as some people do but I still like to hash out the old days sometimes. My friends were my escape. They are the only good memories that I have from growing up. They never shouted. Never hit. Never silenced me with a look. Never called me stupid. They accepted me as I was. I didn't have to worry as much around them. I could be free to be me.

My friends. They will never know what they have given me even if they do read this. My friends now have no idea what they have to measure up against.

If I love you, I will tell you. It might be subtle, but you will know.