Friends

I was going to write one of my long novel updates, which I know you all love… But then I had a point to make. Friends are the shit, you guys. If nothing else, having a support system of even one close friend can make you smile, save your life, and tell you that your shoes don’t match your outfit. Having a huge group rocks, too. Never take for granted how truly important and unconditionally caring friendships are. Sure, we all want love (for the most part). A companion with whom we’re in love. That person could be your best friend, but you still have to have those other ones.

Who you met in 3rd Grade, who you met last week at Starbucks or on an online dating site (weird, who does those anyway ) or at your best friend’s wedding three years ago. Friends are going to hold your hand after a death, smack you when you’re dumb (metaphorically, of course) and love that you said “that’s what she said” no less than 10 times in 20 minutes. Love your friends, you guys. And don’t forget, they’re there for you, but reciprocation is the greatest gift of friendship.

Listen as much as you talk. (Which means I listen A LOT.) Hug them randomly. If they’re cool with it. If they’re not, wait until they’re drunk. They’ll never know. If you can tell they’re feeling crappy, ask them why, or at the very least, do the “you got something on your shirt” trick. (Come on, who doesn’t laugh at that?) If they’re laughing, tell them you enjoy their laughter.

Romantic partner compliments are amazing, they’re loving, sassy, hopefully dirty and special. But friend compliments can be as simple as thanking your friend for replacing the toilet paper in your bathroom after dropping the kids off at the pool after a rough night of Taco Bell. Friend compliments mean that even though you know they’ll always be there, you have respect for that. You know you’d miss it if it was gone. Tell your friends you love them (genuinely). (A true master can do it sarcastically in way that almost seems insulting, but is actually amazing.)

Just saying. Love your friends. Because then they’ll love theirs. See where I’m going with this?

Peace. Rock out your Monday night. Tuesday could be a whole new bag of tricks.

2015

Resolutions, intentions, whatever. It’s merely a day to correct where you think you went wrong this past year and continue what you think went right. So 2015 can be a total jerk, but my plan is as folllows:

1. If I want to play karate in the garage, I’m going to.
(Can I borrow someone’s garage?)
2. I’m never going to lose my dinosaur.
3. Haters gonna hate. But they’re only gonna end up being the sad ones. So hate away, but I’d still hug you.
4. Speaking of, even more hugs! Because I love hugs! Free hugs all year!
5. Just keep being nice. Sometimes you get burned doing it. But sometimes you get hugs. And see above. I’ll take the burns for the hugs. Because at least I tried!

Unicorns And Kittens

New Year’s post! You knew it was coming. Probably could have been a blog, but does anyone even read that? Anyway, you can read this or skip it, but I do talk about kittens. Just saying.

I’ve been waiting since probably July for 2014 to end and to start a new year. It just seemed like the year had done me in. But so much more was ahead; filled with complexities and pain and new starts, and I had no idea. And now that we’re approaching a new year and it’s so close; this new door. The closed one. The next level we advance in the game. I realize how strange it is that we give the changing of what’s really just a date and the aging of the earth such significance. As though as humans we need something, a life scapegoat or landmark (depending on the year we had!) to assign our perspective on where we’ve been and where we’re going. If there is anything I’ve learned, there unfortunately is no literal changing of the page and starting a new chapter in a book. If we decide metaphorically there is, and pin too many hopes on that chapter already having been written and we’re intended to follow the words laid ahead of us; we’re not going to enjoy that part of the book. I’m not going to say that sometimes it’s not just a matter of shit happening, good, bad, painful, enlightening, etc. But overall, we really do have the choice to change the chapter at any time and write our own or at the very least, choose some adjectives and verbs.

I know I can’t sit and wait out a calendar year and hope the clock strikes midnight and fairies and kittens and unicorns dance around me and bring me nothing but joy and delight. For one thing, it’d technically already have been that day in Australia, so if I’m going literal, it doesn’t really work hoping for the tick of the second hand.

We ultimately don’t know what’s going to happen at any given time. We can have intuitions, gut feelings, premonitions; an idea we don’t know the base of but it just seems right. Obstacles, triumphs, difficulties, joy are all things that are going to enter our world, our personal bubble anytime. It’s how we’re living before, during and after those moments that define how we survive. How we live and what energy we exude to others. Life’s a damn jerk sometimes, I’d be lying if I said otherwise. The world can be terrifying, whether we choose to face the depth of complexities there are to what’s going on around us. But in the end, we have to live for us, hope for the best and handle the worst the best way that gets us through to the other side in one piece.

So, while I am actually still using that moment we technically start a new year as a marker, I’m not going to assume those unicorns are bringing me joy, because they could very well be taking a crap on my floor at 12:01.

But I can complain about it, and decide the whole year is ruined because of one pile of crap and just sit and let it stink up the room. Or I can realize I probably shouldn’t have had a unicorn in my living room in the first place, clean that shit up and make the logical change to put them outside.

So happy new year soon, but don’t wait until 2015 to realize you’re living your life every second of every day. Unicorns are cool, but keep them outside.

Sink or Swim

Divorce, break-ups, endings. They’re hard. They’re messy. Even in the most simple, mutual of ways, they’ve left their mark. Emotions are felt differently by each person involved. And even on the parts of those who aren’t, but are more than happy to share their viewpoint (requested or not). When you join your life with someone’s, whether it’s 2 months or 20 years, there’s a connection, a dent left behind in your armor that will leave you either respecting it as getting through or focusing on the damage incurred. There’s never a right or wrong way. Endings can come about in so many different ways; anger, changes, growth that doesn’t match, fear, hatred, realizations, death…..

At some point you have to move forward though, no matter what side you were on. You’re entitled to all of the emotions you encounter, but sometimes they’re overwhelming. Smothering, almost. You rise to the surface for air or you push it to that last minute where you’ve got to catch your breath to save yourself. Moving forward means new encounters, which can make some uncomfortable; can cause others immense fear and in others encourage curious excitement. But truth be told, moving forward involves something new. Finding a fit and a place. Understanding who we are on our own, as opposed to being someone associated directly with another. And depending on how much of yourself you’ve either held on to, or lost along the way, the path can be muddy and dirty and tiring or a cakewalk. Somewhere in between is where more probably go.

If you’re the introspective type, song lyrics suddenly mean more; if you’re the impulsive type, you indulge in momentarily soothing behaviors typically bordering on self-destructive. Those who can ignore their feelings simply land on the next day and don’t look back. Not to say they aren’t blindsided by the acceptance of the situation down the road, but some just see the constant rotation a way of life or what they deserve.

The addition of children to the equation is the hardest part. And that’s how this started. Becoming a single parent, whether you are solely single, as in permanent custody or a co-parenting situation, it’s really effing hard. I respect any single parent who maintains their sanity, even if that means pizza and two hours of Curious George to get stuff done for an hour, only to get those five minutes to sit down before someone needs water. Or food. Or can’t put their pants on. Life’s not fair, we all know that one. But this was a situation created by one or both parties and you can’t rest on the negatives of it. It’s life. It’s the present. You suck it up for the benefit of the kids. Especially because you have to explain to them that life isn’t fair when they use the phrase on you.

Everything is more complicated. Scheduling, dating, planning, identifying your new chapter; all while remembering it has to be as smooth as possible for the children who are involved. One parent brings someone new into their life and that new person goes, you have to address the idea of loss more than once with children. (Break-ups are losses, so that counts any situation). One parent brings more than one person into the children’s life through impulsivity and searching for air in a situation where they feel they’re drowning. Excitement can be that person’s air, and the balance between that, being a good parent and mental health is a potentially combustible moment. A parent decides to move; it creates more change. More upheaval. No matter your age, adult or child, those types of changes have effects. The parents fight and the children are in the middle and the kids absorb that regardless of age. That’s not to say all parenting situations are bad. Some of those aren’t necessarily bad, depending on how the parents handle it individually and with or without a united parenting understanding.

Having a bad day? Suck it up. Those kids need you. You might be lucky enough to have a co-parent who will change the schedule to allow you the time you need to decompress. Yet you also have to understand that you are the parent at that time and you can’t expect another person who has been removed to be that understanding or flexible, given that you now have separate lives, especially if they have brought someone else into their new path. (I hate using the word path. But it’s really the best description. Road? Trip? Go with it.)

You have to understand what you can do in your alone time and what can cross over. The mistakes you make, the losses you experience, those are all a part of their lives and if the children are young, explaining can be difficult and if they’re older, the ability to comprehend the situation without explanation will mold some part of that child’s future. You can have a bad day with the kids, but then you also may get the whole next day off (for lack of a better word) and know that while you’re dwelling on other life moments and feeling sorry for yourself, that parent may be having the same rough day. While having to solely monitor, watch, feed, give permission to, drive to events; etc.

Being alone is hard, no matter how strong you are. No matter how used to it you are. Being with kids alone can be incredibly trying and also incredibly rewarding. You manage to keep a roof over their heads, food in their stomach and clothes to wear and some days, that’s what you have to pat yourself on the back for and be okay. There are days where you have to leave the room and that’s okay. There are days when you don’t have the kids and be okay with that and not feel guilty. If you’re the sole caregiver, you don’t have to feel guilt for relying on a support system, or feeling burdened by the lack of one. We all just do our best, even if our best can suck, subjectively.

As usual, I’ve strayed from place to place. My end implication is always the same. Life is hard. Tricky. Either handed to us or earned. It’s what we do with it. Some choices will be right, some will hurt, some will leave marks and some will be in a gray area. If you want the less sunny description of life, you could compare it to a swimming instructor. Life is either going to teach you by keeping on the arm floaties or standing on the sidelines, yelling “Sink or swim, bitches!”

You can hate yourself for mistakes, feelings, emotions and reactions or you can face them and then make your next choices accordingly. I’ve contradicted myself in the last statement, and I acknowledge that. That’s kind of life, though, isn’t it.

Seasons

If we broke the seasons down into stages of humanity, as opposed to weather; I think there’d be a different perception. Spring is an awakening. A time when environmental and personal beauty are given new appreciation. New life starts and inspires us to make that move, that new perception of emjoyment. Summer is freedom. Fully embracing what and who is around us. Living in free wheeling ways whether simply in a freer thinking or monumental actions. Fall is nature giving us a beautiful, impactful temporary end while new beginnings are giving us the drive to move forward among the changes. Winter. That’s our test. That’s the moment when we evaluate. We try to collect our memories of the year into a little box we’ll view from time to time. Our emotions will still emanate from it. But the tenacity it takes to fight how intense winter can be, physically, mentally, etc. is what makes the rest of the stages the progression. We end winter sometimes bitter and weary, but suddenly know what’s ahead. Those easier parts exist. But strength is what makes the rest of it so much easier. Makes us view our memories with our purposes and not with that one moment but collectively.

Don’t get me wrong. I hate winter. I hate driving in it, the danger of it intrigues, yet worries me. It’s so much more complex right down to how the amount of clothing necessary increases.

But there us purpose everywhere. It’s not blatant. It’s not defined. It is what we make it and allow ourselves to feel.

Life is beautiful because of the pain sometimes. Because we know that something has hurt us enough that we have no idea how we’ll see another side. Yet it also means we’ve had a monumental, human and purposeful experience. And it shapes us. We never stop shaping ourselves if we allow it. It’s the shapes we go with that create what we experience.