Skip to main content

A doozy!

Blogging is a little surreal.

I sit here at home (mostly) and write about what's going on in my life or what's on my mind. I don't always publish what I write, but do about half the time. 

And sometimes, the posts are humorous glimpses into my mind or life. And others, like my most recent post #Me Too, Too Many Times, the revelations are jaw-dropping and anything but humorous.

And then I go out in the world and encounter people who have taken time to read what I write (thank you!).

This is where it feels surreal. Because I haven't changed, just what you now know about me has changed. In the Me Too post, what I revealed happened many years ago and has been woven into the tapestry that is me. It was horrendous and horrible, but God has given me a resilience to move through those traumas wholly intact. I am also bolstered daily by my husband of nearly 30 years who holds me and listens to me and loves me. I thank God for John.

When you see me, remember that the person you see now is the same person you saw before you read the Me Too post. I am still that Pollyanna, 'the glass is half full' person. I still smile way more than I frown and I laugh way more than I cry. And the impossibility of my sunny disposition, in light of that past, I believe should inspire smiles not pity.

I apologize if the news of my past shocked you or was more than you needed to know. I did not share it lightly, only after prayer and reflection over many weeks. I felt compelled to share my story, in part, so you could put a face you knew (and loved?) to the #metoo movement.

Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Ten Year

When I was in junior high school, I staged a sit-in and learned about 'ten year'. This will come as a total surprise to most of you readers - I was not a perfectly well behaved child. I know, I know - you're shocked, amazed, in wonder how I could have turned out to be so well-behaved despite the oats sown in my youth.  And the sit-in is a perfect example of how I marched to the beat of my own drummer. Miss Brown was an English teacher - and not a very popular one. She would invoke the yardstick on wayward student's hands and scowl the moment we walked into the classroom. We weren't very kind to Miss Brown but then she wasn't very kind to us, either. Personally, the hardest part of having Miss Brown as an English teacher is that she nearly ruined my love of my favorite topic in school. It was the year we were to learn grammar (have I ever mentioned that as a writer I detest grammar?). I think some new way of teaching English was introduced and in all l...

Blubbering Idiot

While doing crunches this morning, I turned on the TV to keep my mind off the exercise I was about to do and the movie "Gran Torino" was playing. It was nearly 3/4 of the way done. Perfect, I thought, I can watch the end of one of my newest favorite movies. Fifteen minutes later, I'm a puddle of tears on the floor. The end of that movie dissolves me to tears every time - and I think I've seen it now about six or seven times. When Clint Eastwood's character goes about his last day - including a lame confession with the priest - locking 'Toad' in the basement, I begin to get weepy. SCENE SPOILER ALERT ! But when he is shot down and is splayed as though crucified on the cross, I become a blubbering idiot. So much softness and sacrifice in one so tough and gruff - it highlights the intensity of his sacrifice for his new family next door. I only need watch the last few minutes of "Gran Torino" to get the full emotional effect. The same can be said...

Hair today gone tomorrow

Before you all begin to think I’m breezing completely through chemo, let me remind you of this:   For the most part I am bald. Or if not completely bald, fuzzy headed, and not in the way I think or am thinking, but in the appearance. A little like a hedgehog or a porcupine with bald patches. On Super Bowl Sunday while most of you were overeating or filling out those little squares to wager on the upcoming game, John and I were having a unique pre-game party. In front of our bathroom mirror with clippers and scissors. Preparing for the certainty of hair loss from my chemo, I decided to buzz my locks to lessen the shock and mess of of losing large chunks of my silver, shoulder-length hair. It was in all honesty one of the most poignant moments in our 30+  year marriage. I had originally asked my friend and former stylist if she could do it . But when I shared my plan with John, he said that he wanted to do it. Certainly that was not expected. So instead of watching th...