I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it!
Namaste
I find the times I can most vividly feel a memory is when it’s provoked by a scent, site or sound.
On Monday Mojito nights, I’m immediately taken back to age 5 & 6, when I would crawdad fish with my brother in the creek out back of our old house. The scent of the mint leaves was so strong out there that even the faintest hint of them today can bring me back as if it was yesterday. I instantly picture the steep, dirt slope we’d have to climb down to get there, the fishing poles we’d make out of sticks and strings and even the disappointment we felt when the creek bed was dried out, though we never seemed to run out of things to do.
Places do the same thing to me. I can drive down almost any street here in Concord and have a million tiny memories rush over me at once. Living in the same city for over 20 years is to blame.
A kind of major (and admittedly, silly) thing happened a couple days ago. My childhood friend and I attempted to visit our favorite Indian restaurant. Let me explain. My dad grew up a missionary kid in India. Naturally, when he met and married my mom in Bible college, they felt called to go to India as well. To prepare, my parents used to take us to Indian social gatherings to mingle with those from that culture. We didn’t end up moving to India (you can read more about that here) but needless to say, Indian food has been a major part of our lives. It became a tradition of sorts to meet at a local Indian restaurant called Namaste almost every Sunday afternoon for lunch. Sometimes it was just our family and sometimes we were joined by up to 15 friends. I frequented as a grade schooler, a high school student dating my future daughter’s father, a young married mother with a newborn baby, and most recently, the single-mother of a 7 year old might-as-well-be-a-teenage daughter. Many, many memories in this place. I say my friend and I “attempted to visit” this restaurant because sadly, it was completely empty when we showed up! Nothing could have stopped our over-reaction. It was as if someone died. Although neither of us shed a tear, the flood of memories was overwhelming. Knowing we could never visit Namaste again was painful. We snapped a few pics and drove away for the last time. (See? Totally silly!)
Anyhow. Lastly, we all know that a song can instantly take us to a time and place like no other. Mariah Carrey time warps me to the stage of my elementary school multi-purpose room where I performed a dance routine with some friends for a 3rd grade talent show. Pink Floyd has me covering my eyes and yelling at my sister for shutting the lights off while playing “Is there anybody out there?” and “Yellow” by Coldplay makes me feel like a Canadian college student again. I could go on and on.
Ohhh, the power of music and the gift of hearing! My brother-in-law posted this video a couple days ago on Facebook. It shows an 8 month old baby hearing for the very first time after having his Cochlear Implant activated. How amazing is his reaction!? I’d like to reiterate my thankfulness for our advancements in technology and the capabilities we have because of it. This baby will now be able to hear a song when he’s 25 years old that will instantly bring him back to his childhood!
Love is inconsistent. It’s a marathon or a game of tug-of-war. You’re either trying your damnedest to catch up, or you’re looking back, waiting for your partner to. Every once in a while, when you do catch up to each other, the passion overflows. Eventually though, the balance tips one way or the other and the wait begins again. It slowly teeter-totters back and forth, giving each person the chance to pursue the other with moments of renewing passion in between. How amazing is that?! Most people in committed relationships don’t even realize how lucky they are to be running this love-marathon. All they can (very humanly) see is the frustration they feel when they’re either the pursuer while the other is distant, or they’re being pursued when not really desiring it. But this is necessary! If there was constant passion, it would be impossible to appreciate it. Am I right?
I’ve seen too many relationships fail, simply because they expected the passion to be constant. I say, embrace the inconsistency! The distance gives us time to reflect on ourselves and grow strong as individuals. Just let the natural pattern happen cause I’m convinced it happens for a reason.
I secretly love the wait. I love good things in small doses. At the moment, I’m not involved in a committed relationship, but I hope to be someday. I look forward to the opportunity to pursue and be pursued on a regular basis.
I Love Technology
And that’s saying a LOT coming from me.
Having been raised in the belief that technology quite possibly means the end of the world, I had to battle some pretty heavy anxiety through the years. During my freshman year of high school, we were shown a movie of a woman who was “left behind” during the rapture, being hunted down to receive the mark of the beast, but after refusing, was decapitated. I had a class my senior year that was devoted to analyzing the current state of our world and applying it to the book of Revelations. One student would stand up each week in class and read an article they found that pointed to the end times. I often wonder what impact my school could’ve made, had they put their energy into teaching love and acceptance, rather than this bullsh!%. Back at home, on the rare chance I overheard the news on TV (which I avoided at all costs), something would be mentioned to send me into a panic. New micro-chips being developed that are small enough to fit under your skin! — That one always got me. All these things, along with the local mega-church presenting a play titled “To Hell and Back” in which they performed their version of what hell would be like. You know, people on stretchers screaming as their limbs are being pulled in all directions?! Interesting, they didn’t even touch on what heaven would be like for those “chosen”. I came away with such a dark feeling towards that place.
It’s been freeing – to say the least – letting go of all of this. We have no sure answer. Hell could simply be a term used to describe the life you’ll be living if you do this or that. I know I’ve lived in my own version of hell from time to time.
Death has had me in a sweaty panic many a times as well. For a long time – whether death meant going to heaven, hell, or neither – I’d end up in a pile of tears, taking deep breaths, trying to pull myself back to reality. After years of this, I’ve finally come to accept that there’s nothing I can do about it! Many, many years have passed. Generations upon generations of human beings, all born from their mothers and eventually dying after living their version of life, has finally become a beautiful thing to me.
I guess I just wanted to say this with confidence: I don’t want to be a part of a belief system that scares or guilt-trips anyone into acting a certain way. I want to freely and peacefully live. I don’t belong to a religious group and I have no title for myself. If I strive to do good and love those around me, I truly believe I’m doing the right thing. Why would I be punished for living this way?
And technology. Praise GOD for the convenience of making a check deposit from my iphone while having dinner with friends. Thank baby Jesus I can watch Talladega Nights or a couple episodes of The Office while in line at the DMV. On a serious note, I truly am thankful for the blessing of talking to my sister face-to-face in England despite our 8 hour time change.
Bring it on, micro-chips!
• • • • • • • • • •
I’d like to conclude by saying that none of this is a reflection on my parents. This all comes directly from the organized churches and schools I was a part of when growing up. On the contrary, my parent’s lives were devoted to helping people and being accepting of anyone, no matter their past or present circumstances. I don’t blame them at all. I actually believe my parents are the reason I have the courage to question these topics. They raised me in what they believe to be the truth and I’ve learned a lot about how to be a good person because of that. Despite our differences, they love and accept me.
It’s really hard to avoid superficiality. I’ve been thinking a lot about the prospect of being at a healthy weight again. I know I’ll never have the 16 year old body I once had. 10 years have passed and my body has changed drastically. There are those things I can control (diet and exercise) and there are the things I can’t control, like the scars left on my skin. Even if/when I lose weight, the scars will still be there. I can choose to hate them or I can see them as a reminder of a challenging, yet rewarding phase of my life. I look back on this time with a foggy memory – as if I had some sort of confused-goggles on. I don’t feel angry and I don’t regret it. It was all worth it in the end.
I was 18 years old when I took a pregnancy test in my parents house, my boyfriend waiting outside the bathroom door. We were home alone, something we’d only recently been given permission to do. After all, we were children. We grew up together. He was my childhood “boyfriend” and we started officially dating when I was 16 years old. We’d had a pretty rough relationship up until this point. Very passion-filled during the good times and the bad. Lots of love, some unnecessary guilt, many fights and not enough space to breath. I came out of the bathroom crying, showing him the two red lines. We went to the hospital to get a blood test and they confirmed the pregnancy. There wasn’t a second thought about keeping the baby. Even if we’d given ourselves the choice, we would have never chosen the alternative.
We were raised that marriage was necessary in this situation, so we followed suit and planned a (shot gun) winter wedding in under 3 months. After we were married, we couldn’t afford to move out on our own, so we lived at my dad’s house. My time consisted of cleaning, crying, doctor’s appointments, enjoying the feeling of something growing inside of me, morning sickness, organizing, setting up the baby’s room, sewing, watching movies, and working temp jobs off and on. My husband spent his time in fire school and working night shift in the critical care unit at a hospital. He’d had his mind set on becoming a firefighter since he was a kid. He worked very hard to get there, too, which left very little time for him to be home. The relationship continued in the direction it had been heading, which wasn’t a good place. We grew further and further apart, putting up walls and building resentment. When I look back on it now, I see that we got married before we had even grown into ourselves. The choice wasn’t there. As I said before, we were just “following suit”. As time passed, we were becoming two totally different people who didn’t fit together. At such a young age, we simply didn’t know how to react to that. The outcome was a lot of hurtful words and actions that couldn’t be erased.
On June 9, 2003 at around 8am, we arrived at Alta Bates Medical Center in Berkeley, where I was induced into labor. Two and a half hours later and – due to the short labor – without the option of an epidural, I gave birth to an 8 lb, 5 oz healthy little girl. The pain was extremely intense, but I look back on that day with very positive feelings. I was proud of myself and overjoyed to finally meet my daughter, Katie Sue.
When Katie was about 6 months old, we moved into our first apartment. After a very rocky year or so, we separated for a few months. Then in an effort to try to “make things work”, we moved back into a house together. We did have some good times as a family (these will always be treasured memories) but as time passed, the bad started to outweigh the good. It wasn’t a healthy place to be. In June 2005, I decided the best thing was to move out. Our divorce finalized in November 2006.
I can honestly say, I’m glad we gave it a shot. I would’ve always wondered if it would have worked and I’m glad I have my answer. He’s a very special person to me, even now. I talk to him often and we share our lives with each other. I know he cares about me and I care about him deeply. He’s family. He’s just not the man for me.
(He did end up getting his dream job as a Firefighter/Paramedic. I’m very proud of him and I know Katie is too!)
Fast forward a few years. Katie is 7 now. She’s a beautiful, creative, independent, outgoing and loving little girl. Finding the words to describe the love I have for her is impossible. I’ve tried. I don’t have the guy I married or the body I had at the age of 16, but I do have Katie! Something I would never have had if I didn’t push through this time of my life. It was worth the pain, frustration, sadness and scars because the happiness she brings me outweighs all of it.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
she pops into the bathroom
just after a shower and she
plays with my makeup and creams
keeps trying to look like me
and goes through the motions
posing this way and that
holding it in if it makes you feel better
then knock yourself out
i say “hi there” to my bad body double, mmmm
this is my bad body double trouble, oh no
my bad body double, mmmm
i’ve got bad body double trouble, oh
she’s trouble, she’s trouble
she’s trouble, alright
yeah, yeah, yeah
sometimes i manage to lose her or shake her
at a bar or the gym for five minutes
it feels so good to be back by my own self again
can get quite confusing
we look very similar
except she’s got some grays and
a little extra weight on the sides and
dimply thighs
i hear that stuff’s a bitch to get rid of
no, no, not now
we’re having quite an intimate personal moment (not now)
could you maybe come at a slightly less awful time? (not now)
as you can see i’ve got someone quite nice here with me
can’t we just be left alone?
i guess that’s a no then
seeing as you’re still here
seeing as you’re still here, here
it’s not me, no
it’s my bad body double, mmmm
i’ve got bad body double trouble, oh no
my bad body double, mmmm
i’ve got bad body double trouble, agh
bad body double, mmmm
i’ve got bad body double trouble
oh dear, my bad body double, mmmm
i got bad body double trouble, oh
she’s trouble, she’s trouble
she’s trouble, alright
yeah, yeah, yeah
she’s trouble, she’s trouble
she’s trouble, alright
yeah, yeah, right there
can’t shake her, can’t shake her, can’t shake her, can’t shake her
everywhere I go, everywhere I go, goooo
can’t shake her, can’t shake her, can’t shake her, can’t shake her, oh
everywhere I go, everywhere I go, goooo
say “hi there”
to my bad bad bad bad body double
she’s trouble, mmmm
i can’t shake her
i’m a hater, i’m a hater, i’m a hater, i’m a hater, i’m a hater
she’s everywhere I go
i’m gonna get rid of you
once and for all
gonna roll you out
on my pilates rubber ball
sweat and step up
the pace and the gradient
starting tomorrow
i am your nemesis
A baby-boom is taking place in my family right now as I type this sentence. This is Massimo! He was born on April 1st and was only 17 days old in these photos. Thanks to Massimo (or thanks to Auntie Heather?) my daughter is officially a cousin to 2 boys now. That’s not all, though. In just nine-ish short weeks, another boy will be coming along to make her a cousin to THREE BOYS! Thankfully, Katie is a very strong and independent girl so I think she’ll fit in well with 3 boy cousins. Just yesterday she was digging up piles of worms on her farm field trip, calling them “king cobras”. I think the boys will appreciate that.
Now, here’s to hoping the boom continues…
My brother’s band, Stomacher, performing at Great American Music Hall on April 10, 2010 (opened for Tornado Rider).
