nurses of Instagram, and me

So, this happened yesterday.

Yeah, that’s me

Nurses of Instagram posted:

This week’s amazing #WomanNursrWednesday goes to the beauty @nicurnmama who has been a nurse for over 26 years from Cali!

Wait…beauty?????

I am honored and I have loved the comments and attention; but beauty????

No, I am not fishing for compliments.

I swear.

The thing is I almost never see it. There has been a lot of self doubt and unwelcome events in my life. Self doubt cultivated and nurtured in an environment that declared there was nothing pleasing to the senses about me, the child, the teen, the very awkward young woman.

Lies. All of it lies. As a mature woman I realize that. I accept that.

As a mature woman I also am acutely aware that a mature….middle aged…woman doesn’t hear such adjectives thrown in her general direction very often. Lines on the face…that crepe-y thing happening on the décolletage in spite of ALL THE SUNSCREEN AND MOISTURIZERS, those freckles or age spots along with the swollen, aching joints on my hands that now look more like my grandmother’s hands than my own make me acutely cognizant of the reality that I am not as young as I used to be. I’m not even going to mention the lumpy, bumpy post menopausal body because it is what it is.

Beauty????

I’m sorry, I don’t see it.

But I will accept. it. I will blush fiercely, almost as red in the face as the ginger in my hair (thanks to my darling, talented daughter, Hollie); and I will say thank you.

a slow day

When you have no appointments, no particular thing to do or place to be there is sooo much that can be done…so much to be accomplished. So you check that to-do list that is is just too much…but today, at least, it can wait for another day…another day. Today is a slow day and, for once, you are going to to take the time to do slow day kind of things:

Like curling your hair and putting on makeup.

Then take a picture because you know this won’t last. But now it will because you took a picture which will end up being your social media profile pic because it’s a slow day and you have time for that…and because you curled your hair and put on makeup.

A bit self indulgent, I know.

Perhaps I should consider others on a slow day.

Don’t judge. Son is at school. Darling husband is at work. Darling daughters are on their own in the world doing on-your-own-in-the-world grown-up kind of things. Don’t tell me that you weren’t asking the same question about Siri. Well now you know. You’re welcome.

Oh, and on this slow day I begin a little light reading.

And discover what was likely Lin Manuel Miranda’s epiphany while enjoying a little poolside vacation light reading…832 pages of light reading, y’all. On a slow day seems like the thing to do, to begin.

 

surviving with deep roots

Storms make the oak grow deeper roots.

~ George Herbert

As a survivor I know why I have survived and why I thrive. It’s my roots. So many storms weathered through. Too many, much too many when I was at my most vulnerable and defenseless as a child. The fact that I am a alive it’s a miracle!

Yeah, I still sometimes quote Hamilton with no apology whatsoever!

It’s true though. How did I manage to survive and thrive when others have not?

That is not for me to figure out.

No.

Instead I will continue to survive and thrive. I will because I am stubborn. I am loved. I also continue on because I know when I must fight and when I must retreat. I don’t retreat because I am letting you who attack me win. I retreat because I am working on me which means that I win. I win because I know for a fact you (who belligerently raged at me trying to rip open wide horribly scarred wounds in reminding me what a useless, worthless shitbag fuck I am) are apoplectic right now in that I walked away from your very public meltdown directed at me. And while you raged on like a storm, I retreated into words…words that heal, that strengthen and remind me how much stronger and better I am than you. Three thousand-six hundred-fifty eight words, words filed away for now. Filed away with your words that I have boxed up for no other reason than I can. Perhaps someday you might read those words, all directed at you. Perhaps not. It doesn’t matter either way. In all these words I have strength and power in me and over anything and everything you have and continue to try to throw my way.

My roots are deep and I am stronger because of and in spite of you.

triggers

Continuing with our at play in our own backyard Fall Break Daniel I spent the day in San Francisco. We were considering exploring the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art or perhaps the Contemporary Jewish Museum along with a bit of shopping at the new Lego Store but Yom Kippur and Wednesday changed the plans a little. No big deal. San Francisco is a big place with so much to see. Taking Abby’s and her roommate’s advice, we decided to explore Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Odditorium complete with all the kitschy oddities including lasers, lights and mirrors that come with trigger warnings for those with certain physical health conditions.

For us, it triggered perhaps a little vertigo at first but we got through it dancing and dabbing along the way.

Daniel dabbing and laughing because Mom dabbing.

Making our way through the mazes, we were cocooned for but a couple hours from so much going on in the world and it was a good thing.

Soon enough, back out into the light of day, there was the news of the World, the Nation, the Election to contend with. Twenty six more days…or is it perhaps forty six more days?  Regardless, those of us struggling to some degree or another just have to hang in there in the best way for us because the struggle is getting too real right now. Like so many, I’m taking care of me in the best way that I can right now which might include a little writing, a little venting on my ever-patient darling husband and a lot of muting, unfriending and blocking of especially those who are directly responsible for so much of the anxiety and post-traumatic stress that is what I live with.

Perhaps we are connected by family and love but to be brutally honest with you, who blew up my phone in early hours of this morning detailing just how worthless and fucked I am with my higher than thou shit as you describe it in your hate-filled meandering stream of consciousness that kept me awake through the night overwhelmed with anxiety, restlessness and palpitations, I don’t want or need that brand of crazy love in my life. Yes, I know, it’s all in my head just as it has been there for literally decades as I have tried to process terror, fear and pain that no person ever deserves to live through…terror, fear and pain that you were a party to. It is indeed all in my head. But thankfully, in the light of day, I can calm the anxiety and panic and I can block you out…at least for now…and I will because what you tell me is love for me is nothing but. It never was and it never will be.

I know it’s a campaign, but this isn’t about politics. It’s about basic human decency. It’s about right and wrong.  And we simply cannot endure this, or expose our children to this any longer — not for another minute, and let alone for four years. Now is the time for all of us to stand up and say enough is enough. This has got to stop right now.

Because consider this: If all of this is painful to us as grown women, what do you think this is doing to our children? What message are our little girls hearing about who they should look like, how they should act? What lessons are they learning about their value as professionals, as human beings, about their dreams and aspirations? And how is this affecting men and boys in this country? Because I can tell you that the men in my life do not talk about women like this. And I know that my family is not unusual.

~ Michelle Obama, October 13, 2016