How things change, but really stay the same

I looked at this blog today and realized it had been some time since I had posted. 4 months can change someone's life quite a bit. Since I last blogged I have had some major life events happen. It appears that, in some respects, I may be traveling the same road that my Mother did. In 1995 my mother was diagnosed with the autoimmune liver disease PBC (primary biliary cirrhosis). It appears that I now have this disease as well. Probably have had it for a few years. I am undergoing tests to determine how advanced the disease is and begin my treatement. On the up side, my mother did quite well with her treatment, once the meds were lined out, and I hope to do that as well. My only concern is that that as I look back at her health and what happened to her in those later years, I see many similarities to autoimmune disease in general. The doctors even said they thought she had something autoimmune going on, but weren't exactly sure what. My mind goes back to all those doctor visits and trying to glean something from what she was told then. I pray that my disease path, whatever that was related to autoimmune and her, isn't as bad as hers. She did well with the liver disease, or so I thought. Much of what happened to her later, attributed to other things she had going on, may have been part of her liver disorder. Nobody followed it too closely, to be honest, because she had such other issues they figured she wouldn't live long enough to go into full on cirrhosis. They were right about that, after all. My mother always thought that her diseases (plural for sure) were a way for her to minister to others and show that no matter what happened to her she never lost her faith. I know God gives us things to deal with that will not only grow us up but help others in the process. For, what are we here on earth for in the first place, if not to help each other and spread the word about Him. My aunt, my Dad's last sister and last sibling living, is fighting cancer as well. She isn't winning at this point and that may be another hard thing to deal with. My heart has always told me that it was "when" not "if" I would begin to have health issues. So, it begins. I pray that whatever I have in store for me will be used for the good of those around me and help others in my situation. I don't have children, so I need to pass on something. I am glad that disease is not one of those things and I actually feel grateful that I was not blessed with children. Whatever this hereditary disease path is, it must stop here.

Four years and Counting

Today is the fourth anniversary of my Mother's death.  I was sitting in my chair, letting my mind free-associate, when it occurred to me how I don't think about my Mom as often as I used to.  I probably think about her at least once a day.  Before it was more, and even now it might not be every day. 

Suffice it to say, she isn't top of mind with me anymore.  That bothered me, more than I truly allowed myself to realize.  So, today, I sort of hit that proverbial wall.  As I am wont to do, I suppress things that I don't have time to think about or would rather not consider.  In the back of my mind, I had been thinking about this day most of last week.  Not top of mind, but there. 

I suppose that my life is "moving on".  Isn't this the dream of all those poor grieving people to find themselves in a place where the loved one they have lost doesn't constantly haunt their thoughts, color every holiday, or basically make them a zombie with grief? Well, for those of you that are struggling, it is nice not to feel the searing pain anymore.  But, this malaise isn't exactly a wonderful place either.

I find myself, more and more, examining my own life and how it will play out.   Will I be remembered? I have no children, and though I have lots of family, I don't have day to day closeness with them.  Have I made a contribution to society, will anyone remember me after I'm gone after just a few years?  I mean if I don't think about my own Mother as much anymore, somone who was just about the most important person in my life, who will think of me?

Sounds self-centered, doesn't it?  Well, this is a blog.  The very definition of self-centered.  I won't add a "selfie" and we will call it even. 

Trauma: The plight of the adult orphan

I think I have written about this before, but I can't recall, so here goes.  When you go to google and type in the word "orphan", you get a long list of websites dealing with this topic.  99% of these websites deal with young children and their plight at being orphaned.  Now, I don't despel that this is a horrible thing.  One of my major fears as a child was that my parents wouldn't come home one day and I would be on my own. 

As I grew up, stories of how close I came to losing my Mother were told to me with staggering regularity.  My Mother, as readers of this blog my know, fought a battle with Hodgekins Lymphoma in her 20s and early 30s.  My mother was given months to live several times.  She survived to raise me, and passed in 2009 of a disease so far away from Cancer is beggars the imagination. 

One of the things I heard over and over again, from very well-meaning people, was "well you had her a lot longer than anyone ever thought you would."  Really?  Would you go up to a 10 year old, pat her on the head and say, "well at least you had your Mommy 10 years.  What more do you expect in this world?  Suck it up, buttercup."  Probably not. 

But that's what adult children who lose their parents feel like.  I have read stories of people who have lost their parents, the parent was in their 80s, and despite the advanced age of the parent, the child feels just as alone and lost as that 10 year old child. 

Losing one's parent is the natural order of things.  It's expected that your parent will go before you do.  But what is lacking among the public, HR departments in employers, and even medical professionals, is that losing a parent is just as traumatic to a 65 year old as it is to a 10 year old.  It's still your parent, its still the person that was your lifeline to the past, its still the person that connects you to your family.

The effect is even worse for the person who has lost their last parent.  I can say that I am not at that point yet.  I lost my Mother about 4 years ago, but my Father is still living.  My thoughts go to when I will lose him.  I don't dwell on it, mind you, but when I sit and think about the grieving process, it comes at me full force. 

I know there has been scientific research on this, some books published (not very many), but I feel like there is much to this story that hasn't been told.  I've always wondered if I could write a book like that.  Maybe I will. 

Sentimentalism is not Sadness

Life in the 21st century has made us jaded.    People are cynical, think that showing any kind of tenderness is weak and try to cover up things with humor.  So when people get sentimental and open, people think :  "Are they depressed, or sad?"

I would scream if I could, but screaming looks crazy in text, so I won't.    It's ok to be introspective, thoughtful and yes, sentimental.  Its not a dirty word.  IT ISN'T!!!!

Sorry, I was screaming again. 

Sorry this is a short one.  I may expound later, but right now, all I have.

Life in Pictures-or Why Pinterest has become my New Thing

If you would have asked me prior to this year what Pinterest was, I would have known it existed, but I didn't quite get the point.  Pinning pictures onto a cyber bulletin board?  Really?  Why?  Has society become so dependent on the interent and so easily distracted that we can find fun just browsing through pictures and pinning them on our boards.   Well, in a word, yes.

I am now a newly indocrinated Pinterest junkie.  Someone who went from three boards, with generic stuff on them to 24 boards with all sorts of pins in about three months.  Yeah, I'm in deep.  So, in a attempt to explain this phenomenon and also to justify my own time wasting activities on this site, I decided to blog about it. 

The world has amassed a huge amount of pictures of just about anything you want a picture on.  To be more precise, yes a picture is worth a thousand words.  Pinterest is more than learning about someone's personality by viewing what pictures they find interesting and "pin worthy", but this is a chance to see pictures of things that, frankly, may have rested on the bottom of someones closest forever or on a back shelf in a library. 

  To my shame, I personally get a thrill when I see tons of people I've never met repinning pictures I share or start following one of my boards.  It has absolutely NOTHING to do with me of course, just that I must pick nice pictures that people want to share.  But it still feels good.  And I think that's what this site is about.  It feels good to look at nice pictures.  It makes us feel good and a little more secure to see pictures of shocking things that may have happened to others, or makes us feel good to think about our favorite rock star or movie.  Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, all have the same aim, to make its users feel good.  Lately, Facebook has started to wear on me.  Getting my belly full of too much politics, agendas and the like.  On Pinterest you can just browse pretty pictures, pin the ones you like and move on.  If a picture offends you, so what.  You can move past it to a slew of others less objectionable. 

To be completely honest, I started getting more interested in Pinterest because of Freddie Mercury.  This man could quite possibly be one of the most photgraphed people I've ever seen, and I intend to get them all!  Yes I do!  It has become a competition.  I look at other boards and see if they have more pins and I have to get more.  Luckily Freddie liked to be photographed because I need pins baby!!
I, however, refuse to pin pictures snapped of him by the paparazzi when he was sick.  That just makes me angry.

I actually would like to start a blog that goes along with Pinterest.  The story behind the picture.  I love to analyze pictures and wonder what was going on in that picture and what people were thinking.  Maybe that is my next time killer.  Who knows!