The Bah-Humbug Girl

I can't help it. I just can't get into this Christmas thing. With all the bright, glittery, flashy green and red lights decorating our neighborhood and malls (and streets, and restaurants...), it just seems like such a waste of money...and time...to fall into the melee again this year. Well, I should add that last year was a complete bummer of a holiday except for the fact that a lot of people opened up their pocket books and contributed to the needy. This year they are doing the same.

Just in time for a tax write-off, eh? 

It gets me that people think they are doing something so worthwhile and wonderful during the holidays but at other times of the year, when people still need assistance...i.e., food, shelter, clothing, basic necessities...they have to go without. Because hey, it's not the holidays. We don't want to give until that Thanksgiving turkey is gobbled down and the first Christmas songs are heard on the radio. We wait and see what we have left over from our own spending. Then maybe, just maybe, we'll write a check out to a worthwhile organization to help the needy.

Again, just in time for a tax write-off.

Yes, I am being cynical. I get so tired of the wanton waste of our nation. Tired of Black Fridays rolling back to Black Thursday evenings. What about the employees of these stores? Don't they get to stay home on Thanksgiving night and spend some lazy, after dinner time with their families? I actually know of one big department store that threatened to fire employees if they did not come in on Thursday evening. At 6:00 PM no less. 

Of course, of course, there are a lot of lovely folks out there who give freely of their time and their money all year round. But these are not the norm. They are the folks who can usually least afford to give but they do it because they know it is the right thing to do. Not because of some Karmic aspiration but because they know that we need to pay it forward. They have received the blessings of life, a roof over their head, food to eat, maybe even a job. They dig deep into their pockets and organize fund raisers for the less fortunate. They help out at hospitals crowded with cancer patients and old folks who probably won't see another Christmas. They are the good guys, the ones who really care. Unfortunately, there are not enough of them.

Think about it: Anyone reading this probably has it better than 70% of the American population. Do your kids really need that big pink Barbie car that costs $100.00 plus? Do they need the new t.v., the Kindle Fire, The X-box or Wii system??? What they do need is to learn about values, about caring for others, about volunteering and helping and loving people. They need to understand that there are kids out there without parents, without a home to go to, who are aging out of the system and will have no where to go but maybe the streets. In a nutshell, they need to learn compassion.

This year, I am basically broker than normal and my grands will be receiving home made gifts that I have made on my 20 year old Singer sewing machine. But they are being made with much love. Last year's gifts were toys and doo-dads that have already been relegated to the trash. Broken and squashed. They are also getting books because if there is one thing I learned at a very early age it is that if you can read, you can go anywhere and be anyone you want to. It's like closing your eyes and riding a cloud to another world. 

For those of you who take umbrage with what I am saying here, I have to admit I would love to have a few fancy things myself this Christmas. And the big malls lure you in with their glitter and glam and sales, which aren't really sales at all if you think about it. The wealthy buy big, expensive gifts for everyone...in their family or their friends or their co-workers. The not so wealthy whip out their credit cards and charge them to the max, only to have to pay for the next few years or end up in bankruptcy. I do know what I am talking about. I have been in both situations. And I prefer to keep what little money I have close to the vest so I can offer it to charity (or charities, in my case) and to people who really, really need a helping hand.  If you are one of the more fortunate ones who can afford the luxuries of life, I hope you realize that you did not earn that wealth all by yourself. There were people who worked with you, for you, who gave birth to you or in some other way helped you get that money. You are no more deserving than anyone else of having a wonderful holiday. So put down the expensive toys, the fancy gadgets, the extreme decorations and all of the other fiddle faddle of the season and count your blessings.

Because if you think about it, you really do have so much more than you think you do.

Happy Holidays from the Bah Humbug Girl

How Running Away Renewed my Spirit and My Soul

How Running Away Renewed My Spirit....

There have been days when I wanted to hide under my bed and just lay there, sulking for an unlimited amount of time, perhaps forever.
There have been days when I wanted to just get up and leave, never to even think about coming back again.
There were nights when arguments would escalate and I would cry myself to sleep, wondering if it was me or if it was him or perhaps, both of us.
Seeing a counselor. Yes, that helped.
Taking anti-depressants, sure that helped.
But nothing did me any good.
Until I ran away.

Yes, I ran away. From it all. My husband, my friends, my pets, my neighbors. From my writing job here in Florida. I ran away to refresh my soul and my brain. I needed this, for me. Of course my husband didn't see it that way. He saw it as an affront to him. Pfft. Men are like that, you know. They think everything is about them. When in reality, it has nothing to do with them at all. It has to do with us, the female half of the relationship. It has to do with us wanting more out of life, wanting to get to know ourselves better. And in my case, connecting to my daughter and her family including my three grandchildren who I rarely see anymore. I needed them and hopefully, they needed me.

Nothing is more rewarding than having three little ones crowd around you for attention. I never tired of the "Grammy, Grammy, Grammy. Look at me!" that followed me around each day I was out in Portland, Oregon. I never tired of their little faces, their antics, their love. They would follow me everywhere and when I would finally get a bit tired and want to retire to my room, they seemed to understand because they knew i would eventually come back downstairs to be with them, to watch t.v. or to read to them or to just play. 

I loved being with my daughter who is a grown woman doing grown woman things...working every day, going to school at night, volunteering at a homeless shelter one night a week. She and I had plenty of time to connect...via shopping, going for coffee or for dinner. I had the blessed experience of connecting with my son in law. We have never really seen eye to eye but for some reason, during this visit, we didn't argue. Not once. We laughed and joked. We talked. It was...well, wondrous.

I did a little writing. Even though my computer crashed when I got there, I was able to borrow my son in law's in order to write a short story or two, outline a new novel. Things I just don't seem to do at home. This is, after all, why I ran away. To get back in the groove, to find my motivation again. 

I talked to my hubby almost every day via cell. He was incredibly lonesome without me and there was nothing I could do but assure him I would return. He wasn't so sure since I had bought a one way ticket out to Oregon. But I always buy one way tickets. It's cheaper that way, at least for me. Who can beat 300.00 roundtrip fare from Florida and back again? I even got an upgrade in seating on the trip out! Not so dumb, if you ask me. He talked about seeing the counselor while I was gone, their conversations. He talked about being depressed. I invited him to join me in Portland. No, it was too expensive he sighed. Well, maybe, but I thought the trip would do him good too. Still, he didn't want to part with the money. It didn't make me any less happy that I had made the choice to come. In fact, I was happier than a clam, being out in the cool weather, my window thrown open at night. Bundled up in quilts, feeling the fresh air brush against my face. I was loving the change. Because you know, everyone needs that occasionally. A change in atmosphere, in perspective.

I stayed exactly three weeks and one day. Perfect. The weather changed for the worse the day I left. Thank you God for an October that couldn't have been better in Portland, OR. Thank you to my daughter and her wonderful family for their hospitality and understanding that mom and "grammy" needed that break and am so much better off for it. And thank you Bob, my lovely hubby, for not breaking my spirit and by welcoming me home with flowers and wine and candles. I think he finally gets it...that I needed to run away in order to run back home again and live life to the fullest. Until the next time, when my spirit and soul beg for renewal.

And the Beat Goes On...with a new Format

And the Beat Goes on and on...

Just another day in Paradise, here in sunny Florida. In the 80's, humidity receding (thank God).

I am in a contemplative mood. In the last few months, we have lost two precious pets, both cats: ...Morgan, my older, lovable, fat and fluffy long hair and Nigel, my younger, all black, one-eyed hellion. Morgan died of natural causes, I think. He was getting old and sickly. But Nigel just disappeared one night only to have me find him tucked behind some lush bushes under our bedroom window. I am sure that some evil critter lurking around our near-jungle outdoors space got to him. A snake, a poison filled lizard or frog. He was fairly young and loved to pounce on anything that moved. Fortunately for most wild life in our area (mainly the birds and squirrels), he was not adept at catching the larger creatures. But he loved those lizards and they hated him!

Bob's calico cat, Appie, died suddenly a couple of years ago. She just got very sick with liver and kidney failure.

I find all of these feline deaths mysterious. And to add to all of that, we have had so much bad luck since we moved to our new house in April. Excited and thrilled as we were to get approved to buy our "dream home" (3 B.R., 2 Bath, screened in lanai and pool, lush landscaping), it seems something is curling around us like a ghostly mist, causing appliances to break (so far, we have spent over $1000.00 to repair and replace various things) and animal illnesses and deaths. I don't know if I need to have a house blessing or what, but I am personally getting creeped out by all this stuff. Plus I am worried about my two remaining love-bugs, Molly and LuLu, both Chih-weenie dogs.

Now. I have to write. Not just on this Blog, but for online magazines where I have had pretty good success. For contests. Finish editing my novel, "The Anatomy of Happy" which, in fact, has been edited by a professional and I just need to make the corrections. I fear my laziness is taking over my writing motivation. And Depression doesn't help either.

There are so many things going on in my life right now and in the lives of my loved ones and I will continue to write about them in the following days. But for now...I just need to take a nap.

So much for another day in Paradise

The Beat goes on....

Roseywriter123
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January 4, 2013
Starting out the year in relative turmoil. I am beginning to think that I am one of those people who should never have married...the first time (1971), the second time (1994) and now the third...and last!...time in 2010.
Robert and I have been married for just two years but we have been together since 2007. On our tenth date I had a nervous breakdown.
Really, you say. Huh. A nervous breakdown.
Yep. That's what I get for getting too close too fast.

I didn't realize how hearing impaired this man was. At first, he told me he had a little hearing problem in his left ear. When I realized that he is basically 85% deaf (from a war injury back in the early 70's), I was livid. I was also mad because he had been fitted with special hearing aids that would allow him to hear at least 35% of what was being said. He could read lips, he said, but of course to do that one has to be facing the person who is talking.

Anyway, I was chatting up a storm to him right before Christmas....he was on his computer (what else was new?) and I sat behind him on his cherry red futon, flipping through catalogs and making out a Christmas list. I was in total denial that he could not hear a thing I was saying. So I got pissed. Why wouldn't he answer me? Was he trying to communicate to me in some obscure way that he really did not want to talk to me?
What gives, I asked myself.

Well, I stormed upstairs in my usual mature manner and turned on the t.v. to some silly sitcom that I had no interest in. As I watched, I started to cry. Why couldn't I find the perfect man with whom I could have the perfect life. I mean, just look at these television characters, all happy and laughing and holding hands and snuggling...it was pitiful, really. That is what I wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. I just wanted someone who would care for me forever, unlike husband number one or two and/or the various men in between. So I had a major pity party in my head and decided to down some anti-anxiety medications along with a half bottle of vodka. At the time, I wasn't thinking properly...bi-polar people, such as me, often have difficulties with impulse control. I wrote out little notes to my family and friends and left them in a pile on the floor.

Staggering into Bob's bedroom, I fell on the bed and did not go to sleep before I placed a call to my daughter who lived in the Tampa area, close to where we were. I told her good-bye, not to take my quitting life personally, and that I would always love her. And then I hung up.

That was the last thing I remember before I awoke in the emergency room at Tampa General. Stomach pumped, intravenous fluids being ciphered into my veins. The attendants were not very happy with me. Seems they don't like suicide cases, view them as selfish and a pain in the neck. Of course, if I had actually managed to die, perhaps they would have been a bit more sympathetic. But then, how would I know? I'd be dead, right?

The story gets better. My daughter had made a call to the police who alerted the medics to head to Bob's townhouse which is how I got to the hospital in the first place. But when they arrived and pounded on the door, Bob did not even hear them. He had no idea I was upstairs in a coma-like state and when the cops finally bashed in his front door, he was alarmed and ready to fight. He grabbed one of his hunting rifles, not knowing who was barging in or what was going on. Of course, the cops "man-handled" him (as he put it), put him in cuffs, and threw him in the back seat of their patrol car. Meanwhile, the emts had put me on a stretcher and were transporting me out of the house into an ambulance.

The real kicker is that Bob ended up in a mental ward at another hospital. He had no idea why he was there and they wouldn't release him. I was taken via ambulance to another hospital with a mental ward for a 72 hour hold (in other words, I was "Baker Acted")...

It took awhile but finally, everything got straightened out, particularly my meds which had not helped me at all with my bi-polar. I was put on special medication just for that purpose. Bob was released from the hospital before I was and he was able to pick me up when my 72 hours were up. Of course, I had to promise to join AA (which was sort of silly since I was not an alcoholic...I just knew that the combo of pills and vodka would do the trick, eventually).  I also had to attend counseling sessions with a local psychiatrist and psychologist. Bob started wearing his hearing aids (at least for awhile) and things became semi-normal or as normal as could be expected with our particular situation.

I am still with Bob and we have some major ups and downs. He is pretty controlling, as am I and that can lead to some pretty bizarre "war of the roses" arguments. I find it difficult to live with someone who is so different from me. His tastes in foods, movies, events, etc. are all so foreign to me. At times, I feel as if we are roommates instead of partners. I still have to yell when I want him to hear me which is inconvenient to say the least.

Now it is he who is having some personal problems and I am trying my damndest to stand beside him and with him through his ups and downs. We bought a house here in Brevard County, Fl. and we have friends...well, I do. (Why do men have so much trouble making and keeping friends??) Often, I will take off in my V.W. bug for a day just to shop or visit a buddy or to ride around, catch my breath and be alone. I walk the beach or nature trails, meditate, have lunch by myself. I think it is important for us as women to assert our independence in ways that may have been foreign to us before. It is now and forever the way we can keep the beat from dying.
Roseywriter123
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March 4, 2013
Since I am a reporter and inquisitor of people's goings and comings I am hoping to turn this blog into an interesting variety of stories on other peoples lives.
Everyone has a story. Or two. Or two hundred.
I want to hear from people about how they have survived this life...has it been easy. Has it been difficult. Has it been hell in a handcart??
Life is different for all of us. My life has had so many ups and downs, I could have designed a billion dollar roller coaster around it. But not all of it is printable and not all of it is interesting. Bits and pieces are fascinating. Some of it is unbelievable (but true nonetheless). However, life is not all about me and I really, really want to write about you. People who have made it this far no matter what the circumstances.
The stories can be long or short...well, try to make them relatively concise so that people won't start yawning after the first page. Splurge with content but not with words, if you know what I mean. Radiate happiness, depression, sadness, loneliness, joy. Reach out to others who might be able to connect with your story and find a solution to their problem via your ideas, research etc.
For instance: I have Lupus and it is getting progressively worse. So I am always looking for people I can talk to about the disease and what helps them, what doesn't. How they handle the ups and downs of everyday living. I also am bi-polar and although I am taking medications, sometimes depression kicks me in the butt and throws me through the hemisphere and I am not sure I will make it back alive.
There are relationship issues in my life, always have been, always will be. Just my genetic make up I guess.
And what about you?? Are you in a relationship? Have you got physical or mental challenges that you need help with or that you can offer solutions for? Is your job about to make you pull your hair out? Are you bored to tears with everything in your life? In other words, what is going on with you???
I am trying to make my blog an open forum so that people don't have to seek psychiatric help...they can make friends here, air their problems or share their joys.
Looking forward to hearing from you...and you never, ever have to use your real name. Make up something that describes how you feel. Or how you don't feel. It doesn't matter. But your story, and your life, do.
Soulfully yours,
Rosemary Hoffman Lynn