Home Away from Home

"Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore."

~ André Gide

Well, I'm at my home away from home, my oldest sister's house (the one who lives a plane flight away and in the suburbs of a big city), and have been hanging out with her and her daughter (her hubby, whose from South Africa, and their son are over there visiting relatives) since Christmas Eve. The amazing thing is that my mom is back at home (my youngest sister is visiting her) and so we aren't, per usual, tied at the hip. It's actually kind of strange, but I think great for both of us to have time apart.

I've been to a few a parties since I arrived (my sister is very social and lives in a very social neighborhood!) so I've gotten to get out and meet new people, have stimulating conversation and exotic (for me) cocktails. Unfortunately, I have had my illness come back so I've had a lot of days feeling bad and it's pretty frustrating.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve and we have at least two parties to go to so I'm hoping, and praying, that I have one of my better feeling days.

Nothing is happening on the-getting-pregnant front right now. It's still top of my mind, but I just haven't figured out what to do. My goal is definitely to have something happen by the end of January. What that something is, like I said, I'm not sure, but I will have done something to advance my dreams forward, I can guarantee that. Now whether or not my dreams actually get advanced forward remains to be seen.

In news somewhat in that vein, I did have a really wonderful present on Christmas day - my period! So, like I've said before, I still feel like I'm in the game. To me, it feels like half time (to you it may feel like I'm in the last seconds of the last quarter, so thank goodness it's my story!), but I know that I've got to get a score on the board soon.... and I will.

Perceptions

"One ship drives east and another drives west

With the selfsame winds that blow.

'Tis the set of sails and not the gales

Which tells us the way to go. "

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

So, my meeting with my sister didn't go very well. I wasn't upset by the results, just kind of disappointed.

My sister, who admitted fairly quickly to my counselor that she was anti-medical establishment, proved to be pretty anti-psychological counseling also.

You know, I just don't think she's ever been to counseling and probably has, especially compared to me, limited knowledge of the self-help book industry. Some of us are made to think we have the answers, so we don't need to ask the questions, and some of us think we don't know the answers, but someone else out there must, and we seek out their expertise. My sister, K., is of the former view, I am of the latter.

I've been going to psychiatrist, psychologists and counselors since I was thirteen years old. I first went because my brother, H., (who was a year and half older), and I were about to cause our mother and father a nervous breakdown over our constant fighting. But as soon as the psychiatrist found out that I had OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) he pretty much forgot my brother and our problems with each other, and concentrated strictly on having appointments to meet with me.

Back then, thirty-five years ago, OCD in children was unheard of. My doctor, who was a Duke University medical school graduate in psychiatry, had to be schooled by my father on what the best and most effective treatment options for me might be (as I've mentioned before my father was always ahead of whatever game was being played, no matter what the field of study). I guess that's another story for another time, because it is, to me, quite interesting how I was "cured" and overcame what can be a debilitating illness.

So, I have pretty much known counseling and self-help books my whole life, my sister, on the other hand, never needed them, or never really thought them worthy of her time.

My counselor warned me that my sister would probably feel defensive (I'm sure I would too knowing that my counselor and I had a few years to establish our relationship). But when my counselor encouraged me to read the piece I wrote that I had sent my sister via email (that we found out she hadn't read) my sister started scribbling notes on a piece of paper. As I was reading to her about my feelings of what happened to our relationship, I felt like, she felt like, she was in a law office being questioned in a deposition. It was disconcerted because it made me feel more like she was writing rebuttals to what I was saying rather than really listening to what I was saying.

I asked her to stop. My counselor explained to her that it was my chance to finally get all of my feelings off of my chest and spilled out to her and it was important for her to hear what I was saying. She told my sister that she would be able to share her feelings after I read my piece.

Well, after I did finish reading, my sister declared that our perceptions of the "truth" were different. Perceptions can often be that way. But she totally discounted the fact that she initiated the physical abuse, throwing my head down. Her throwing my head down and feeling the whiplash of that the next day was a big part of my physical hurt, so for her to deny it was hard for me to take.

When I asked her why she never responded back to me after I had sent the voicemail saying that I was physically and mentally hurt and that I didn't think I really felt forgiveness towards her (even though the day of the fight I had said I forgave her, mainly to get her to leave) and that we needed to talk, she just replied that she didn't think her calling me back would do any good, and that, basically, since I said I forgave her the day of the fight she just accepted that.

Good lord, it was hard. I really can't see any way back to what our relationship was before.

But she agreed to meet again after the holidays. And I guess I am going to go into that meeting with the sole idea that at the very least, I will be able to give my mom some relief by getting to the point where my sister can come over whenever mom wants her to, whenever she wants to, without me having to make arrangements to "disappear."

My problem is, I don't really miss her and I can't believe that she really misses me either. But anyway, I did what I set out to do, which was to try, for my mom's benefit, to reestablish some kind of relationship with my sister, K. I did the best I could, she did the best she could, we'll see where we go next...

Meeting

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. "

~ Lewis B. Smedes

I'm meeting with my sister, K., the one I haven't seen or spoken to in over two years (and she lives only a mile away!) at my counselor's office in just a few minutes. I'm scared and nervous and whatever other adjectives you can use to describe fear of the unknown.

I emailed my sister a week ago and asked her if she would be willing to meet with me and my counselor to try to somehow reconcile our relationship. She emailed back that she would be there. I then sent her this post to read. I'm not sure if I should have done that before meeting with her or not, but I just felt like she needed to know where I was coming from and what the obstacles to our having a relationship might be. I don't know if she read it or not. I guess I'll find out in our meeting.

Ugh, I hate this. I hate the anxiety I feel welling up in my chest and my breathing being more like sighs in, and sighs out. But I'm doing it mostly for my mom and for her to have as a Christmas gift. She doesn't know anything about the meeting. I asked my sister not to mention it to anyone because I don't want high expectations to be unfulfilled.

I guess all I can do now is say a prayer and put it all in God's hands.

I'll let you know how it all turns out...

Faith and Football

"This gift usually involves hope, confidence and a special composure, all of which keep a person in the game long enough, with enough energy and stability, so that a fickle entity known as luck might break his or her way."

As you may have come to know by reading this blog I love sports and one of my favorites is NFL football. This article talks about how optimism in the face of a barrage of pessimism is overcoming the odds. And since overcoming the odds is what Dreaming Miracles is all about I love including stories that provide that glimmer of hope that provides me with the strength I need to continue pursuing my dreams.

Knocking on Doors

"Progress always involves risks. You can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first."

~ Frederick B. Wilcox

My dad always espoused to me, at various times, for various reasons, over the years, the old adage that you have to knock on ten doors (or knowing my dad, he probably said a 100 and I'm remembering it as ten!) to make one sale. I knocked on another door the other day. Once again I did not make the sale, but I also didn't get the door slammed in my face (it was shut gently)!

As I've said before, where I live, cute, single, intelligent, in-the-vicinity-of-forty-something guys are about as hard to come by as chop-sticks at a pizza parlor so, I've resorted to trying to find them in other places, which thanks to technology is less hard than one might think. And no, I'm not even talking about internet dating sites, I gave that a try and it didn't seem to produce anything better than I'm finding on my own by knocking on doors.

The most recent door I knocked on came about when I just happened to read something that a blogger I like posted a link to. I read what that guy wrote, liked his ideas, the things he thought about, and the way he expressed himself. His site had a photo of him and he looked cute so I sent an email:

Hi. I read your blog and strictly based on the views you expressed and your photo, I am intrigued by you. So, I guess I'm just sending you a note to find out if you are 1.) married, 2.) dating someone, or 3.) open to to meeting someone new - me!

I'm posting a link to a few little tidbits of information about me* and attaching a couple of photos of me with my BFF's and another one tailgating before an NFL season opener.

This feels like being blindfolded, shooting a three-pointer and calling bank, but hey, you never know if you can make that kinda shot until you let the ball leave your hand...

All the best,

L.

And unlike the last time I wrote someone I admired from afar, this guy wrote back!

Hi L. You just made my day! I’m flattered but also, alas, attached. Too bad since someone who likes _______, the NFL, basketball, and looks like you is a fantastic catch!

Best,

N.

You can say it's not much (and you probably are), but it's door knocking! I wrote him back and said if he knew of any cool guys, like himself, that were single and looking, to feel free to pass my information along.

Who knows how many doors I have to knock on before I get a yes, but I already have my next door in mind. I'll let you know when I knock and if anyone answers.

*I gave him a couple more tidbits of information than I'm giving you, like the college I graduated from and where I lived in the past. Do you remember, from and earlier post, when I decided to make my own "business" cards to hand out? Well, the "business" card I made has a web link to my "tidbit" information. So far, I've never seen a guy I wanted to pass the card out to, but I have sent the link to at least two interesting guys that I randomly found while reading about, or viewing topics, that intrigued me. So, knock, knock...

My Mom's Story is My Story (Part 4)

"We may not know how to forgive, and we may not want to forgive; but the very fact we say we are willing to forgive begins the healing practice."

~ Louise Hay

My mom did recover from her mental breakdown, but it took almost a year and a half of continuing small successes before she was back to her normal self. As much as her mental illness took a toll on her, it took a toll on me as well - mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically.

One of the biggest mental, emotional and spiritual tolls came from my family.

I had always been so proud to be a part of my large family - they had been the source of so much joy in my childhood. As I grew into adulthood my sisters became my best friends. My brother, H., the one I had battled against the most while growing up (I'd have "dibs" on the t.v for cartoons on Saturday morning - there was only one t.v. in our family back in those days - and he'd turn the channel, take the channel-changer knob off - no remote controls back then either - and dare me to try to get it back, I'd try and get knocked down in the process) was, by the time I got to college, like my other half - we were best buds.

As we all grew older each of us went our separate was - all but one spread wings far and wide. It was a rarity that we were all together in one place at the same time. In thirty years, I think my father's funeral was one of those rare occasions.

I had a falling out with my closest brother, H., my best bud and the one I had lived with when I had moved to the resort town he called home. But when he decided some small thing I did was going to be the end of our relationship I wasn't surprised that it was my "time" to be on his bad side. He had, at one time or another, in a fifteen year period, been on the outs with just about every member of our family (he didn't speak to my parent's for ten years!). It was hurtful, but he lived so far away and I knew in my heart that if I hadn't been there for him during his darkest hours he never would have met, fallen in love, and married the girl that was perfect for him. I knew I had fulfilled my purpose in his life and now he had someone else to take over that role.

But when you grow up you become your own person and even though they were still my family, they now had families of their own. They were still my world, but I wasn't necessarily theirs.

Sometimes, a year or so would go by without me seeing my brothers, and talking with them on the phone was almost as seldom. My sisters were different. I saw them at least once a year and talked with them a hundred times more than that.

But when my mom had her breakdown things dramatically changed. My brothers and sisters were constantly calling to talk with me about my mom's health and recovery. Being so far away they couldn't possibly understand what I was going through (especially after my mom's month in the mental ward was over and she came home to my care) but they all had opinions (which they readily expressed).

It was understandable that they should have opinions; it was their beloved mother that was under such mental duress, but they weren't the ones day in and day out, in the "trenches" trying to give her the best care, live in her insane world and try to stay sane myself. They weren't the ones taking her to doctors appointments, giving her her medications, cleaning up her "messes." They were going about their normal lives, when mine was anything but normal.

But the one person who did live nearby, my second oldest sister, K., the one person who was close at hand, who did have some inkling of the hardship I myself was enduring at that time, was the one person who I was least likely to think would stick a knife in my back. But she did and this is how she did it.

Driver's Seat

"Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. "

~ Leonard da Vinci

I've been catching myself (more than even usual) wanting to control things; have them my way. For instance, I just finished having my period - it came on day twenty-four when normal for me, over the past few years, has been on day twenty-six . So, I'll hear myself say, "I need to have my periods not come so early. Or, this time it was pretty light, and I'll tell myself that there needs to be stronger blood flow. I could go on, but the gist is that, I know I can only control what is in my power to control, and I'm doing that, to the best of my ability.

So, every time I get these thoughts that come into my head, that this is what I need, or, this is how it should be, I've started picturing myself in the driver's seat (yay, it's some kind of cool sports car!), pulling over and parking. I unlock the door, get out, walk around the back, heading to the passenger side and the door (magically) opens and I slide in.

As I'm putting my seat belt on, I see the driver-side door open and I envision God getting in (I don't picture anything - just feel The Presence). The engine kinda gives a rev and we are off. And because it's the kind of sports car that has power behind it, I kinda just get pushed back into my seat.

It's a straight road and my driver lets the power of the car put us in some serious forward motion until, in my mind's eye I see this car actually take flight; as if it were some sort of new-age plane on the runway just getting airborne.

And the first thing I notice is, that it feels like we are traveling fast, and yet, it feels slow too.

It's deep darkness now with the light of stars showing planets and astroids, and whatever else is out there, that we are passing by. And I just have the feeling of being safe, but more importantly, happy - that I don't have to concentrate on driving; that I am now free to look around and enjoy and experience things I've never seen. I'm not sure I even feel a destination, just that the driver has set His course and I'm along for an amazing ride.

The Gall of it All (Two)

"Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does."

~ William James

So, my mother will be going in for surgery tomorrow afternoon to remove her gallbladder. It will be done laparoscopically so it is supposed to be less "invasive," but of course I'm still worried. My mom is eighty-one so I don't take any procedures she has done lightly. And being that I often feel, at this stage, like she is the sole reason for my existence, it feels even harder on me. I wish I had more going on in my life that made me feel purposeful, but I don't. I'm working on it - finding my purpose - but right now, she's it.

Update: My mom came out of her surgery looking like the poorest, sweetest thing I ever saw. She is having pain in recovery, but is on the mend. Now I've just got to fatten her up!

Dodging Bullets

"I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble. The world is moved along not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker. " - Helen Keller

My mom has been sick.

About six months ago she was jaundiced (yellow skin coloring) and not feeling well. Her doctor ordered her to get lab work done. The results came back indicating to my mom's doctor that she believed she was passing a gallstone. She asked my mom if she felt any pain. My mom said, no. She then asked her if she had felt pain when she delivered her babies (my mom had seven) thinking that maybe my mom just had a high tolerance to pain. My mom look at her doctor with the withering, exasperated look she usually reserves for me, and said, "Of course I felt pain when I had my babies!" Anyway, my mom got better; the yellow coloring went away, and she was feeling good again.

Fast forward two months, and just before we were to leave on our trip the same symptoms came back; the yellow coloring and not feeling well. My mom's doctor gave us a lab requisition form and said if my mom didn't improve before we left on our trip that she would need to get the lab test done. My mom improved and we went on our trip (and unbeknownst to me my mom threw the lab requisition form away).

During our trip my mom seemed to be doing really well, but when I left her and went on my two day trip back to my old town for a visit, she had had a bad day; not feeling good, not eating. The day I got back - my birthday - she was feeling better but I told my sister that she had her jaundiced look back. I was starting to feel worried, but once again, it went away and we made it back home with out any problems.

After being home for a day or two my mom's illness returned with a vengeance and this time it didn't go away. She was nauseous and not eating, and her color was ghastly. Her doctor ordered an MRSI and lab test for the next day and got her an appointment with her gastroenterologist STAT.

We saw her gastro doctor and after looking at the results of her MRSI and lab work he said that she had a lot of sludge build-up and a gallstone blocking her bile duct and it was critical that he get her in for a procedure to remove the blockage and put a stent in to increase flow out of the duct. His big concern was that he was going to find cancer. He basically said that if one is jaundiced and in pain then it is likely something that can be fixed, but that when one is jaundiced without pain, then cancer is the big factor. My mom was jaundiced without pain. I was worried.

A day later and we were at the hospital and my mom was having her procedure done. I sat in the waiting room just hoping and praying that she was going to be okay. The doctor finally came in to talk to me about what he saw when he went in and what he had done. He removed the large amount of sludge, took out the gallstone that was blocking the duct, put the stent in and looked for cancer, which he was surprised not to find. But, he said, he wanted to do a CT scan on my mom to look at her other organs (particularly the pancreas, I think) because he still felt that cancer was the big concern.

As always, I found out once again how important is to have an advocate when someone is ill, because, as I said, the doctor had told me when he came to talk to me after my mom's procedure that he would need to do a CT scan on her and get another liver panel at the lab, but then when I called his scheduler she said that, no, the doctor didn't want the CT scan. It was very confusing to me - I know I heard what I heard, but... Anyway, a day or two later we had an appointment with my mom's GP and I mentioned to her about my confusion over whether my mom was supposed to get the CT scan or not. When our doctor read us the gastro doctors notes he had called for the CT scan (he still believed he was going to find cancer and the CT would be able to convincingly prove or disprove it). Our GP ordered the test for the next morning put a STAT on the requisition and made an appointment to see us to go over the results in the afternoon.

And all that day I just tried to be as positive-thinking as I could. When we finally met with our GP she said the doctor who viewed my mom's CT scan looked and looked and re-looked for cancer (because he too thought it likely) and he didn't find any! And my mom's lab work for cancer markers all came up negative. Oh my gosh, what a sense of relief I felt.

Her doctor did say (as well as the gastroenterologist) that my mom needed to have her gallbladder removed (apparently she has a gallstone stuck in there as well) and got her an appointment with a surgeon for Thursday to discuss taking it out. So, now I still will have to deal with another hospital procedure (and I hate her going under anesthesia so much of late) but at least it's something that hopefully will help my mom feel better and have more energy AND IT'S NOT CANCER!

I write about my mom here on this blog, even though the main part of my writing is supposed to be about my quest to find love and motherhood, but my mom is so integral to to me and my life right now. She is my everything. She's the husband I don't have, the child that I want, the mother that I need. That may seem a strange way to put things, but basically I do with her what I feel I'm best able and most fulfilled doing: running a household - cooking, cleaning, caring for, and nurturing someone whom I know needs those particular "old-fashioned" talents that I love to do and possess abundantly. I feel a sense of purpose, the same sense of purpose I know I'll have when I do have a family of my own.

Longing

"When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long in the first place."

~ Unknown

I've got so much going on right now in my brain; about my life - what I want, how to get it, how to free myself from it, how to stay strong - I feel like playing my "Longing" playlist tonight. Songs like this, this, this, this, this, this and this make me feel melancholy, yet hopeful, at the same time - a dichotomy I only know as longing....

Haircut

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

~ Dr. Seuss

Every seven or eight weeks I get my hair "done" - cut, colored, curled and styled. It's my extravagance (and my psychological counseling session) all for the the price of $100 - worth every penny!

I always make my hair appointment for Friday afternoon. I guess I schedule it on Fridays with the hope that I will get to go out for a happy hour and be able to, for once, have cocktails out with friends, with my perfectly coiffed hair.

Most times, at least over the past year and a half, whenever I've gotten my hair done I haven't felt well enough to actually go anywhere, which, after paying such a sum of money, has always bummed me out.

As you know, even though I'm not a 100% better, I am so much better than I was, that I feel hope that I had been completely lacking for such a long time.

I had my hair appointment this afternoon.

I tried to get in touch with my 30 year old niece to see if she would want to go out for Happy Hour, but she wasn't able to. Then I called my friend, J., whom I hadn't seen since our high school reunion. J.'s name had come up, randomly, in two different conversations I had this week so I felt like the Universe was telling me to check in with him. I left a voicemail message but didn't hear back.

By 5:00 p.m. my hair was cut, colored, blown out, curled, teased and looking according to my stylist like, "Eva Longoria." I was like, I'm not spending $100 (that includes a $15 tip which just explains more about how small my town is, doesn't it?) and not let my hair be "shown."

I drove down to that bar I like, the one that I feel is a good cross between upscale and "Cheers" and sat at "my" barstool down at the end. I was sitting by myself. When I'm down at the end of the bar, in the corner, I feel like I'll be fine; like I'm not sticking out like a sore thumb. But before I could even get the bartender over to order my drink a guy came up and said, "Do you mind if I squeeze a barstool in here at the end?" And I was like, no, help yourself.

I then ordered my Bombay Sapphire dirty martini and a dozen raw oysters on the half shell. I heard him order an IPA beer. As the bartender was getting our drinks I turned to him and said. "Happy Friday. My name is L., how are you doing?" From that point we had a conversation through one martini into another for me, and beer and appetizer for him - a good hour and a half. It was a much better conversation than the last time I was at this particular bar - on my blind date. I wasn't in, "this is the one" mode, but I definitely felt like he was somebody that I would like to continue to know.

I wasn't trying to jump too far ahead, but I know how hard it is to find someone in the vicinity of my age group that is single, has a good job/education, is a good conversationalist and is cute (he had dimples). At the very least I felt, if not him, then maybe he has an acquaintance who might be a good match for me - that, widen-your-network-mentality was kicking in.

I was trying to be friendly and open. I couldn't have pitched myself (in what I thought was a very un-intimidating way) any better as being open to getting to know him on a friendly basis. I guess he wasn't interested. I had finished my drink and there was nothing to do but ask for my tab. He got his at the same time.

As we paid our tabs and began to part ways, he said how nice it was to meet me and that maybe we would "run" into each other again. WTF? At first, I think, what went wrong with me here? Did I talk too much? Did I come across as uninteresting? Did I ask too many questions of him? What? But, really, I think I was just me; the me who is interesting and the me who is interested in the person I'm talking to. I was fine. My fine might not have been his "fine" but I was just fine.

I was reminded of a time, years ago, when I complained to my father that I kept having these guys I wasn't interested in, being interested in me, and how it was really bumming me out, and he said to me, "L. you're looking at it in the wrong way. You've got to realize that you are putting something positive "out there" that is attractive and if you keep putting "it" out there you will attract someone who wants you; who is the person that you want!"

I'm listening to my father right now.

My Mom's Story is My Story (Part 3)

There is no remedy for love but to love more - Henry David Thoreau

This post is the continuation of my mom's mental breakdown journey (with me along for the ride).

After a month my mom was released from the psychiatric hospital. When she was released from the hospital she wasn’t released because she was cured; she was released because they felt like they had done all that could be done for her in the time frame that her insurance company allowed for. In other words, she was still crazy.

I remember being both excited and scared when I went to get her out of there. She wasn't who she had been. I didn't know then if she ever would be again.

Note: After you read the above link I'm posting below, links, in order, as best I can, of the emails I sent to my brothers and sisters keeping them up to date on what was happening with our mother's health and healing.

Some things I may have repeated, but hopefully, if you choose to read them, you can follow along with me as I hope I helped my mom regain her life.

Letter written to my brothers and sisters (not sure exact date, but within the first month of my mom's return home).

Emails 1-9

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

What Price is That?

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. "

~ Mark Twain

Last minute airfare - $300

Rental car - $44

Two nights in youth hostel - $80

Trip from hell - The opposite of priceless

R.I.P. Steve Jobs

You might wonder why I would write a post about Steve Jobs, but it was a commencement speech he gave at Stanford University where he said the following which struck a chord:

"You can't connect the dots looking forward, you can only connect them looking backwards. So, you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something; your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever, because believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart, even when it leads you off the well-worn path and that will make all the difference."

And that's exactly what I'm doing; I'm trusting that the dots will connect and this blog is following them looking backwards.

Yay/Ugh

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. "

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

So, today’s my birthday. I’m 48. Yay/Ugh!!!

Jeepers, creepers, I’ve got to get my ass in gear on all of this “stuff” is what I’m thinking. But I need today off. I need to just enjoy a day where my sister is having a party for me. Some of my mom’s family will be coming, as well as, a couple of my friends who happen to live in this part of the country, and also, some of my sister’s friends whom I’ve gotten to know and like over the years. Anyway, I think it may be the first birthday party I’ve had since I was like twelve years old (can you say, skating rink?) Like then, I plan on having lots of fun. Unlike then, I plan on having lots of frozen margaritas : )

Onward

"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."

~ Henry David Thoreau

Well, I did “it.” Or at least some part of “it.” My mom and I will travel back to my sister’s home today (which we were planning to do anyway). I’ll stay there Wednesday and then hop a plane to my old stomping grounds (the place I lived before I moved back to my hometown to stay with my mom) on Thursday.

It went from, I need to finally make that call to K.M. to find out what the what is, to, I need to have “this” happen in person. I need to check things out with my eyes.

Actually, fate’s a funny thing. I wasn’t planning at all to fly to my old town. I was planning on going out on the town with a good friend in the big city on Friday night to celebrate my birthday, which is Saturday. Unfortunately, we got our wires crossed and she already had a commitment that night. So, then, I’m thinking how can I have any fun in the suburbs? Suburbs and fun, isn’t that an anomaly when your single, without kids? I mean, don’t I need at least one night out on the town in this month-long trip with my mother, for crying out loud? I thought, yes, I do! Then, from that, I began to think that maybe this would be the perfect time for me to go to my old town. I do have some business that needs taken care of. Yes, I could do it over the phone and internet, but I’d probably get better, faster results if I could be there in person.

And the thing is, before all this came about I did finally make that call to K.M. Whoa, can I just say how strange it was to talk with someone you broke off all communication with seven years ago. Yeah, strange is the right word. I can’t even begin to get into exactly what he said (I promise I will sometime, just not yet!). Suffice it to say, he was thrilled, thrilled, that I was calling him from out of the blue. He said so. He said it made his year, or something like that. But after talking with him I just realized there is no way in hell I can get to where I need to be with "this” decision without seeing and talking with him in person. I gotta find out how whacked out he is!

Truthfully, I can’t really imagine how it could work, but I guess I’m still just trying to follow through on all of my “inklings” (and unfortunately I don’t have nearly enough of them). Like I’ve always said, this is my story, I think I’m somewhere in the middle of it, and K.M. is definitely a part of the journey. I’m going to do as my grandmother often said to do, “Just keep on keep’n on!”

I’ll only be there two nights and I’m definitely not planning on “being” with K.M. See him, talk to him, yes, “be” with him, no. I’ll be trying to see as many friends as I can in the short time I’m there and I’m looking forward to spending my birthday eve with a good girlfriend sipping martinis.

But the fact is: I have an interview with my first potential sperm donor, although he doesn’t know it now, and he may not know it even after I’m done with the interview process! Onward I go...

Tripping

"Never let the odds keep you from doing what you know in your heart you were meant to do." - H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

So far my trip is going well. I did get together with my high school friend and went to a Major League baseball game. We even made it on the jumbo tron (the huge video screens that are situated high, above the scoreboards). My friend’s eleven year old daughter wanted to be on it and I told her that when the music came on during the inning changes she had to get up and dance. She said there was nooooooo waaaaayyyyy she was gonna do that! Well, around the bottom of the eighth inning an Irish jig kinda song came on and the Irish in me wasn’t about to let a good jig pass me by. So, up I stand, and within the tiny parameters of my seat area, I commence to do a jig this way and jig that way, with an up here and a down there. Within minutes (and thank God because dancing an Irish jig is exhausting!) my friend’s daughter yells, “L, we’re on the big screen! We’re on the big screen!” And sure enough I turn to the screen and there I am, as huge as can be, dancing a jig that I’m sure put a sparkle in my Irish grandmother’s eye as she danced along with me in that Big Irish Pub in the sky. It was a perfect ending to a gorgeous and fun-filled day.

My next big adventure was going to an NFL game. My sister’s neighbors not only have season tickets, but a place right next to the stadium to berth their big motor home. They’ve got tailgating down to a science so catching a ride to the game with them is like having the cake with a cherry on top. Just the pre-game, people watching while drinking ice-cold beers was worth it; actually getting in to watch the game was a bonus on top of a bonus. I needed a chiropractor after the game due to whiplash - there were so many guys to look at I could barely keep my head attached to my body!

Presently, I’ve left the big city behind and am staying at my mom’s property. My sister traveled with us and spent the first five days here and then left to go back to her family. She and I road inner-tubes down a river and had more excitement than we wished for, but it left us with a story we will be able to reminisce about long into our old age!

Now, it’s just my mom and I taking it easy for the next week, enjoying relaxing warm days and cool nights.

In other news, my period came. It was early. On the one hand, I have to be positive and feel blessed that it has come, on the other hand, it feels discouraging when it comes before it should.

I am determined to call K. M. in the next day or two to ask him about being my sperm donor. I can’t keep putting it off. I need to know, one way or the other, if he is willing and capable. Talk about getting out of my comfort zone...

C'est la vie

"Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. "

~ Cadet Maxim

Well, V.T. (Virgin Taker) never did message me back after I wrote him on Facebook. I definitely was bummed. At the very least I thought he’d say, “Hi, how are you?” I guess you always remember, in great detail, the guy who took your virginity, and you put him on some kind of pedestal as being something greater than he is (I mean, why would you let him have your virginity if you didn’t think he was “all that”) but the guy who took your virginity isn’t having the same momentous experience (after all, you’re a virgin, you barely know what to do, much less how to do it momentously) to remember you. So, c'est la vie. I will still give myself bonus points for messaging him in the first place. Any time I can do something out of my comfort zone is a win for me and can only be helping me on the journey of my dreams.

UPDATE: It took awhile but Virgin Taker and I did end up becoming friends on Facebook.

Same Time, Same Place... Different Year

I'm leavin' on a jet plane don't know when I'll be back again... - John Denver

Well, it's that time of year when I take my mom back to her home state for vacation. My oldest sister also lives there so the plan is to stay with her and her family for a week and then travel to the small property my mom owns for about two weeks and get back to my sisters for the final week. The first week at my mom's place my sister will tag along and that will be a highlight for me: to have her to myself, away from her husband and two teenage kids.

The whole trip will be a nice change of pace for me. As I'm thinking about that, I am reminded that I have not spent one single day or night away from my mom since July of last year! It's not that I wouldn't love to have been able to get away, but for so long with my illness I couldn't do much of anything interesting.

I'm feeling better now, though not normal. I guess I'm at 75% on good days and much less on days when I really feel bad. It all seems so hit or miss as to when/why I feel bad. I am continuing to try different med combos trying to have more better days than not.

On this trip I'm super-psyched because my uncle is giving me one of his season-ticket-holder seats to an NFL football home opener. I'll get to do some serious tailgating. And just the thought of being in a big city, at a stadium, drinking cold beer, surrounded by a ton of guys watching other guys crack heads. Woot! Woot! I can't wait : )

I'll also probably get together with one of my high school friends (the one I mentioned in my reunion post whom I hadn't seen or spoken to in thirty years) who lives there as well. We may hit up a Major League baseball game with her two kids which will be another fun day for me.

I quit eHarmony when my six month subscription was up (I really didn't have much success - nobody that I was attracted to physically for starters. I did correspond with a thirty-four year old guy that was kinda cute who seemed nice. He didn't have any problem with our age difference and I didn't either but I just kinda let it fritter away. He scared me off when he said he wanted to call me on the phone. I'm so good at back and forth bantering in writing I kinda froze up at the idea of what would I actually have to talk about in a call - just call me lame- but I think if I had been really attracted to him I would have jumped right in anwyay so...). But you may remember the tall guy who contacted on eHarmony from a previous post and he lives near the city I'm visiting. I did write him that if he was still interested in getting together to send me his email address, which he did. Now it's just a matter of if I feel like meeting him. I guess right now I don't have much going on so I probably should meet him, right? Gotta get up the courage on that one.

So, like I said, getting out of Dodge (even with my mom in tow) is going to be fun times for me and will be good mentally for her too. Right now, the possibilities of "there" seem better than the possibilities of "here."

I'll keep you posted.

Heartbeat

"Do one thing every day that scares you." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

My heart feels like it is beating out of my chest right now.

I checked Facebook tonight and saw in my newsfeed where a guy, THE GUY, I lost my virginity to twenty years ago (yeah, do the math, that's a story for another post!) became "friends" with a guy whom I randomly met at Mardi Gras* in 1988.

I met the Virgin-taker* in 1991 just as he was about to leave my town on his way to get his M.B.A. When he told me the name of the school, I was like, really, are you kidding? I told him that Mardi Gras guy, who by this time had been living and working in Japan, was coming back to the U.S. to get his M.B.A. at the same school. Virgin-taker looked on his class list and sure enough Mardi Gras name was on it. I had kept in touch with Mardi Gras for three years back in the snail-mail days. I told Virgin-taker he had to look him up when he got to the school, he did, and the next thing I know they became fast friends. That was eighteen years ago! I then lost touch with both of them.

About five years ago I googled Mardi Gras guy and saw that he had an email address so I sent him a message. I found out what he was doing - super-duper successful - and then asked him if he kept in touch with Virgin-taker, he said he didn't.

I was bummed. I really wanted to know what ever happened to Virgin-taker. Even though I was old for being a virgin, I was so young mentally, just really naive for my age (I've always been a late bloomer). I'm not sure I had one interesting thought to say back in those days, whereas now, having lived life and come (somewhat) out of my shell, I feel confident that I'm interesting; that I have interesting things to talk about, etc.

A year ago, I got a Facebook friend request from Mardi Gras (guess my email address came up in his contacts list) and of course I accepted.

Stalker that I am, over the years I had tried to find Virgin-taker without much luck - he went by his middle name when I knew him and I couldn't remember what his first name was. Fast forward a few months ago and I finally was able to locate him on Facebook. I stalkishly checked out his FB page, but never "friended" him. I just didn't have it in me. I mean we were never more than a few months sex partners. But I *really* wished that somehow he would end up becoming friends with Mardi Gras, find that I too was friends with him, then send me a friend request (not wishing for too much as usual). Then tonight comes, and like I said, I read my newsfeed and it said "Mardi Gras is now friends with Virgin-taker and three other people."

Of course I thought maybe sometime Virgin-taker will be on FB and he'll see my name in the upper right-hand corner of the page listing me as a mutual friend of Mardi Gras and then he'd send me a friend request. One, watched-movie later, and I was like, fuck it, I'm just going to send Virgin-taker a message. So, with my heart beating out of my chest (I'm still so high school!) I sent him this note: Hey Virgin-taker. Saw in my news feed where you became "friends" with Mardi Gras on FB. I wondered what ever happened to you! Hope all is well with you and yours! Where are you these days?

Can I just say, it's a BFD for me to have done that. So, hmm, we'll see if he answers back. I'll let you know. Of course it did say he was in a relationship, but it didn't say he was married ; 0

*Of course Mardi Gras and Virgin-taker are not there real names, nor nick-names either!

Muriel

"Now my life is as good as an Abba song. It's as good as Dancing Queen!" Muriel's Wedding

I watched Muriel's Wedding the other night. It had been a while since I had last seen it. I love that movie! And, one thing I know for sure, when/if I ever get married, there will be an ABBA song played during the wedding ceremony.

Life's Longing for Itself

“Impossible situations can become possible miracles.” —Robert H. Schuller

Ugh, I am getting very frustrated over things regarding what to do with my life. Everything seems so complicated.

The other day my sister, who works at Starbucks, part-time, mentioned something to a customer about wishing she could get a new computer, the next day the customer brings in an unused (still in the box!) MacBook laptop and tells my sister she will never be using it, so gives it to her - for free! That's the kind of thing I need to happen to me - I don't need a laptop, but I need something positive to fall into my lap.

I mentioned in an earlier post that I had asked a friend to get the phone number of a guy I used to know who I was considering might be an option as a sperm donor. My friend (who's really not friends with this guy, K.M. anymore) did me the huge favor of going to his residence, knocking on the door, and basically telling him (after seven years of him being absent from my life) that I wanted to talk with him. He got the phone number. And my friend told me K.M. was really happy to hear that I wanted to re-connect.

Both my friend, and K.M. live in the town that I moved from (I can't believe it's now been four years since I moved back home with my mom). So, I decide, if I want K.M. to be considered as a sperm donor I better get my i's dotted and t's crossed before I get in touch with him. First on my list is to find a lab in the town where K.M. lives that he can go to to deposit some sperm and get the test done to analyze whether or not he has good ones - healthy, viable sperm. I call the lab and they tell me (as I've now come to find out is how many clinics operate) that their lab doesn't deal with "directed" sperm donation - that's the sperm of someone you know, but aren't in a sexual relationship with. Most clinics only will allow you to go through the fertility process (when you aren't in a committed relationship) with anonymous sperm donors - a sperm bank.

To me it just seems like one more freak'n hurdle to overcome. It gets so overwhelming to be doing this without any guidance or insight. There's so much research involved, so many questions needing answers. Somebody has those answers; I need to find that somebody.

Then, out of the blue, it hits me, what if K.M. has had a vasectomy? I mean it's entirely possible. Then him as option A, becomes him as option G - gone!

And that's another thing, even if I do decide to ask K.M for this monu-f@*king-mental thing how do I go about doing that? "Oh, hi K.M, it's me, L., I haven't seen or spoken to you in seven years but now I need this little favor. What's the favor you ask? Oh, it's just along the lines of, will you donate your sperm so that I can have children whom I really don't want to have anything to do with you in the future. That's all. So, what do you think?"

I mentioned previously that this guy, K.M., comes with baggage. Did I happen to mention that his baggage fills a dump truck and smells just about as bad?

This story goes back a few years.

It’s a scary thought to think that I could go through this amazingly complicated journey, and actually get pregnant - have the children I’ve always desired - only to have them grow up and lead lives with baggage just like their father. But surely, many of you know people who have gone astray, in one way or another, even with the best of parents and the best possible upbringing.

It reminds me of what Kahlil Gibran wrote in his book, The Prophet:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

So, that's what I'm left with in my heart; Life's longing for itself. And the question remains: will and how will Its longing be felt in my own life?

Blind Date

Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine.
Anthony J. D'Angelo

I shouldn't be writing this at this time. I've just gotten home from my blind date at which I had two, what seemed to be, king-size, dirty martinis. Now, I've decided to end my night sitting on my deck drinking a nice glass of Castle Rock Pinot Noir listening to this relaying to you the minutia of my blind date this evening.

Oh, good Lord (my new fav exclamation for all the the things that Life is throwing my way these days)! If only I could spend the 45 minutes getting my makeup and clothes just perfect for the perfect guy all would be right with the world, but as it is, I do it all for... eh, whatev.

Yeah, my kingdom awaits, but not with this date.

I arrived at the semi-classy establishment early enough to get a place far enough at the end of the bar so as not to be the conspicuous - "this-couple-is-obviously-on-a-blind-date" people. I actually saw a guy across the bar from me who I thought could possibly be my date, so I asked the bartender to inquire as to his name. Alas, he was not "the he." I sat and waited.

I thought I should, for etiquette's sake, wait to order my cocktail until the gentleman arrived (although, with my nerves of meeting a total stranger upon me, I definitely wanted to f@ck etiquette and get my damn martini : ).

Finally (ten minutes later) this guy walks in and sits down slightly catty-corner, across the bar from me. I had the feeling it was my date, but I decided I would let him find me, i.e., I was just gonna watch him squirmishly look around. Aw, I put him out of his misery soon enough and gave a wave his way indicating I was most likely the one he was looking for.

He came over, sat down and I ordered my martini, which (I think) led him to order a nice scotch on-the-rocks.

Physically, he wasn't unattractive, he just wasn't really "my attractive." But I was open to him charming and impressing me into some sort of chemistry-of -the-mind that he could parlay into, at the very least, some forceful, future attachment.

It wasn't happening for me. Though he must have felt comfortable enough with our conversation that by the time we finished our first drink he asked if I was ready to order another. And, yes, I was.

We drank our second round discussing his relocation to the city in which we reside. He said he had come back with his finance and bought a home so as to be closer to his mother, who at the time, was battling cancer. His mother overcame her illness, his relationship with his finance did not. After four years being together they parted ways. It had now been two years since the time of their break-up.

I'm a good questioner (and listener). It comes from a genuine place of interest. I truly think I could have probably parlayed it into a good legal career - I'm that inquisitive. Whatever he revealed, I just asked him for further information of interest.

At some point he mentioned that he hated working for someone else and that he wanted to have his own business. I asked him if he had ever read., "The Four Hour Work Week." He hadn't, so I suggested that he might, because it does deal with a lot of the things he talked about business-wise.

He was a good, kind guy, but he needed to find a girl... different from me.

One thing I know for sure, whatever my intellectual capacity is, or isn't, is that I need to be intellectually stimulated. I need someone who challenges my mind; who makes me want to know more about life and my place in it. My blind date wasn't that kind of guy.

I can probably overcome a lack of physical chemistry, but a lack of mental chemistry is a deal-breaker.

Truthfully, the thing I liked most about him is that he told me he sets his thermostat at 68º at night when he sleeps. I do love sleeping feeling like you need a blanket (or guy!) wrapped around you.

In the middle of writing this post I got a text message from an unfamiliar local number that read, "Ms. M. - I want to apologize for boring you with my drunken ramblings. It was great to see you."

I was confused. I was sure I hadn't given my blind date my last name or my phone number. But I thought maybe the girl who set us up had (although I didn't think even she knew my last name).

I texted back, "As popular as I am I'm replying 2 who I think may b my top 3 contenders. So, which 1 r u? ; )"

A text shortly arrives that says, "Makes me feel better that there were three - D.S.

Mystery solved. D.S. was a classmate from my high school reunion, one of the many I hadn't seen, or heard from in thirty years! He actually goes back even further than that, as he came to my Catholic elementary school in 7th grade.

Then he text, "Who were the other ones besides K. (another guy from high school)?

I reply, "Went on blind date 2nite!

He text, "And....?"

I answer, "He asked if Animal Farm had 2 do w/ horses."

He text back, "Did you go on a blind date with P.D.? (P.D. was another guy in our class at the reunion). Sorry, but I had to laugh at the dis. I guess D.S. must not think too much of P.D.

The next thing I know, my cell phone rings. I answer and it was D.S. It was cool because we talked for about forty-five minutes (he was on a business trip, he said he was in NYC, but who knows, he could have been in Cairo, or Moscow; I think he works for the C.I.A.) and got to have a real conversation versus the chit-chat that's about the only kind of talking that can take place at a reunion with people you haven't seen in years.

D.S. is happily married (and I wouldn't be into him in a romantic way even if he wasn't). But he is the kind of guy that's solid and thoughtful, someone who it is definitely nice to be re-connected with. And I hope that our friendship, now re-established, will be something that continues.

After getting off the phone with D.S. and finishing my wine I had to think that the final analysis of my blind date that evening was: NEXT!