A wish for today…

 

My wish for today is that everyone take one second to be thankful to that Mom, Dad, Grandparent, Aunt , Uncle, Teacher, or whomever taught them to cope with things. To learn to accept life on life’s terms to be good to one another. In the end of life the only that will be said at a funeral (what your legacy is) is the kind of person you are. No one is saying wow they had an awesome stove and what a lovely yard they had. Do you know how many great jobs they had. What will be said was how you treated others , how you impacted others and the type of way of living you lived. So make your legacy one to proud of.

In my 25 years as an adult, I have learned so much. I used to think working all day and being able to buy things was the most important. Then I started having kids and I learned loving and caring for them and teaching them is most important. Then my youngest was born with VATER(VACTERL) Syndrome and I learned even more about life. I learned how to be a caregiver, and advocate for her health and so so much more. I have an honorary nursing degree as I fondly call it. I could go on and on about our experiences and sometimes I do but today I am just thankful to have learned the importance of simply being there. The importance of listening and the importance of hearing what you are listening to. The other day my daughter was having a rough time, she is noticing that all of her peers are so much taller than her. She is realizing that the medicines she must take make her face puffy and there is not much she could do about that and it is giving her some self doubt. I believe that is pretty typical type emotions for one turning the big 13 in 2 weeks.

She was telling me her concerns and I tried to respond with a joke. I thought perhaps it would lighten her mood and distract what was bothering her. Joking and laughing is one of my coping mechanisms. I would rather laugh than cry although sometimes inside I am crying while others see me laughing. It works not always but a good part of the time anyway. This time it did not work, she said Mom you are a clown always laughing but I don’t find this funny, I am feeling like and she explained herself. I immediately told her she can tell me anything and I will hear her out and try to find a way to make her feel better and if I can’t than well I can’t but at least she can get it off her chest. I let her rant for a good ten minutes and then I told her that somethings in life we have control over and others we do not. The things we can control we should and sadly sometimes we must accept the things we can’t and if there is a way to make those things a little better, we should at least try. This seemed to help on this particular conversation. I was proud of myself for knowing I had to turn off my coping mechanism and hear out hers. Had someone along the line not teach this to me maybe our lives would be even more of a mess than they already are. That night she hugged me tight before bed and said she is kind of glad she is small so she can still snuggle with me.

If that is my only legacy in life was that I loved and was loved, truly that will be sufficient!

 

How does this work? If I want to write a novel?

I have been thinking of all the experiences of my life. The experiences that I have lived, the experiences that I read about, the experiences that others have shared with me. This all lives inside my brain. In the place I know there is like a whole series of novels in there , but how. How do you separate the real from the fiction and not crossover lines of deceit? How do you write an entertaining novel, a story someone enjoys reading based on things you know without sharing parts of your story that intertwine with other people’s stories.

I feel like it would be a lot more fun to tell the tales I would love to share, embellished to hide any real identities and enough to add some of the fun stuff that intrigues you to continue reading a story.

I have not always been an avid reader, as a matter of fact I suck in that department all together. I read a lot as a teenager, required stuff and stuff friends offered that they liked. I preferred to read a magazine or talk or something else. It was only in the recent years that I found out how much I enjoy writing. I was a class clown. I went to school to hang out and once 10th grade hit, at the request of the guidance counselor , I joined the CO-OP Program. You go to school one week, and work one week for the entire school year. You get paid not as much as if you just worked there but it was a paycheck, and you got skills experience. We believed that mattered at that time, only 25 -30 years ago.

In addition I had been working at the gas station after school and on the weekends, also back then it was full serve, you actually made min wage and tips, I racked up being a young teenage girl working in a gas station in the cold, in the rain, whatever and I milked it, really milked it. On school weeks I took, how to balance a checkbook, math. I took reading and study hall and aerobics and lunch or whatever I was forced to take. Science and History,although history probably had my attention the best. Never knew it then but looking back at my life I was ADHD as best as you can be. And in addition I do not hear correctly, but I hear perfectly so not really something someone would notice, other than me, I always knew something was wrong with me. I have never been properly diagnosed and have always been self medicating.

I have a lot of stories all tangled up and I would love to explore writing a novel, so if anyone can offer some pros to doing that please please comment and tell me, encourage me.