People Will Tell You Who They Are...

I would like to mention before starting this blog that although events have changed my perspective, I am still a person who likes things the way I like them. Teachers and educators in general are all about control. After all, you get to have your own little classroom universe that goes (most of the time) the way you planned. Now, I have learned that really you don't have control of much at all...except your response..but that doesn't mean I don't have leftover control residue floating around inside me. There should be a machine that can vacuum that right out of you. I am sure if there was, it would cost a LOT of money, and as we all know, I am in education, where lots of money doesn't exist.

Since being out of the bubble, a lot of things have changed for me..and all for the better, I think. But I do still have this teeny tiny issue of liking things the way I would like them. And because I have this residual effect, I don't listen to what people say the way I should. I listen to people (especially men) the way I would like them to respond. And the issue is that I need to listen to what people say...because people will tell you who they are.

Let me give you some examples.

1. "I am not interested in that kind of relationship right now."  Did I hear that? No, I did not. I heard, "I'm not interested in that kind relationship at the moment, but I don't really mean it..and I'm going to eventually change my mind because you are so wonderful".

2." I like you...but just as a friend.". Now I did hear that...but what I really thought in my head was, "Hmmmm, he will change his mind eventually. He just needs time to find out that he really wants me more than a friend."

3. "I struggle at times with integrity". (I didn't really hear that at all at first..until circumstances presented themselves, and that quote floated into my pea-headed brain. Hmmmm.)

4. "You are just a wonderful, amazing, person".  Now if I am that way, why isn't the person interested in me?

I have learned a lot in the past six years. I've learned more than I ever thought (the issue being that I didn't think) about human nature and what people will tell you if you just listen to what they say.

Cause, you know, people will tell you who they are.

And then there's Kitty.

When I think about one of the many people and things that helped keep me and sustain me out of the bubble, I always think of Kitty. For those of you who don't know, Kitty is a 12 year old white Lab. I always thought she got her name because Whitney always wanted a cat, but the Mayor was highly allergic to cats. So Kitty was the compromise. Whitney now tells me that is not how she got her name. And since my memory lately is shorter than my height, I have no idea how she did get her name. But Kitty she is.

When we first got Kitty, she was Whitney's dog..and the Mayors. And that was fine with me. We had two other dogs at the time, and with that, 4 children, school, and dealing with you-know-who, my life was busy enough. I did go and take her and Whitney to Doggie obedience school. I did feed her everyday, as I did the other dogs. But Kitty's loyalty was to Whitney and to the Mayor. I guess she considered me like a "Dog McDonalds" ...I gave her the food quickly, and she ate it quickly. (Labs eat as if they haven't eaten for 3,445 years...even though they might have had a treat 45 minutes ago. The idea of grazing and leaving food out does not happen in lab land).

When I left our house that the Mayor and I owned together, Kitty did not go with me. After all, she was more his dog than mine. Neither Dena or Whitney knew about what was going on with us at this point, and  I wanted to keep it that way until I could figure out a way I could fix this. This, of  course, is what I did. I fixed things so that everyone would be happy.  At least that was my plan in life. The fact that I can't fix anyone or make anyone happy did not occur to me at this point.

Well, I couldn't fix this at all. It finally got to the point (after the Mayor used the girls as if they were pawns in a chess game) that I needed to let Whitney know what was going on. At this point, she was in England, going to school .Dena was in Belen, living her life with her husband. So I told Whitney. Her biggest concern was that Kitty was still with the Mayor. After all, Kitty was her dog. So with much drama, and people, and police involvement, I went to get Kitty and Sophie..who was staying with him since I had surgery during all this period of time. (Yes, I know, when it rains, it pours).

Kitty and I didn't know each other well. She and I and Sophie moved into our librarians' house (stop 3 of my homeless spring tour of 2008). I took her to the Vet, because she had a massive ear infection. Then I did the only thing that I could do at this point in time. I walked. I walked Kitty. A LOT. I knew that the Mayor did take her out from time to time to run on the Mesa. I felt badly I had snatched Kitty away from the only home she knew. So we walked. And walked. And walked. Sophie walked too, but she was pretty arthritic by this time, and couldn't go super far. But Kitty and I did. And we did it day after day..hour after hour..sometimes three or four times a day. Sometimes it's all I could do, honestly. But I did discover a lot about how amazing the world actually was on these walks. I was so busy keeping the bubble intact for myself all those years that I never really stopped to just look...and listen...and I had a LOT of time to think. All this walking, looking, and thinking were the first steps on the road to healing for me.

In May of 2008, Kitty, Sophie, and I moved into our house in Cabezon. It was a wonderful, amazing house. Much too big for two dogs and a very confused Southern girl, but it was the most divinely peaceful place I had ever known for such a long time.  It became the first true home I had since moving to New Mexico, and I had lived here eleven years. No one yelled..you didn't have to worry if someone would get upset about something dorky you said. I could have all the people I wanted over, and I didn't have to worry about "disturbing" or waking someone up. For some reason, if you woke the Mayor up, he would explain that it was like he had not slept at all..and Sleep time for him would have to start all over again. And one did not interrupt his sleep. EVER.

I digress...Back to Kitty.

Kitty and I walked a lot in the Cabezon neighborhood as well. It had wonderful walking paths, with the most magnificent view of the Sandias. This is what I did when I didn't know what to do. And since I didn't know what to do, or how to adjust to this new life most of the time, we walked most of the time. Sophie went with us as well, but not on those long walks in which would help to show me how much of the world I had been missing.

Then we finally moved into the house on Valle Alto..and the walks have continued to this day. Kitty is part of the reason that my life now has the balance and the peace that it does. We have become very good friends, and close companions.

I have had a lot of help getting to be the person that I am today. A lot of the help came from my friends, my family, and the students and staff that I am truly fortunate to work with everyday.
But the biggest help came from a panting, large, white dog, whose consistent love and loyalty got me through a lot of rough days. Her needs gave me a purpose, and the walks and treats gave me a true friend.

Yes, sometimes one of your best friends in life can have four legs and a wagging tail...and a fondness for cinnamon toast.

The Wake Up Call

Have I mentioned I am often confused?

Well, it's really not true. I know what is (kinda) going on with me. But if you emulate being confused, you can stay away from the truth of what is going on at times.

I am really good at that. In fact, I excel at it. If there was a category for this, I would win. Hands down.

See, I'm even doing it again in this blog.

It's now been 6 and half years (well, 6 years and 9 months) since Reid died. That does sound like a long time..but I guess in grieving years, it's not. The big hole that Reid left is now more normal than it was. And that is the way life goes. You learn to deal and cope with what is in (and out) of your life. It doesn't make it ok, it just makes it more normal in your life.

Rats.

The other thing that has happened since the 6 years, 9 months since Reid left was that a lot of the old me left as well. That's the one that had to make sure everything was tidy, everything was in order, the me that went 108 miles an hour, and didn't stop to think about what was wrong or right.  I just did what I felt I was supposed to do. And I did things that I shouldn't have done.

I wish that I could tell you that I have reconciled myself to the fact that things are different.  For the most part, I have. But there are parts of me that have just lost focus.  And some parts just need to return.  But after Reid died, there was a lot of me that just didn't care anymore. And not in the sense of I didn't want to be in the world anymore. I do. I just didn't see the sense in a lot of it anymore.  And this one fact has caused some disturbance in the Laura time-space continuum.

But what to do about it?

When you don't see the sense in things, or the purpose of why you are in the world, it does cause problems. And when you add in the fact that sometimes I don't value myself as I should, there are issues. The biggest one being my weight. I know I need to lose weight. It is hard work to deny that you have a weight issue. I've gotten really good at just watching myself from the neck up, and avoiding the rest of me.  It's only when I allow myself to look at my profile that I realize the shape I've allowed myself to become.

It's not a pretty sight.

I have begun to realize (the clarity fighting it's way through the confusion) that I am protecting myself from many things. My weight allows me to stay safely in myself, keeping a real relationship from happening, because who would want to be with someone who resembles Alfred Hitchcock?  That's safe. My weight keeps me from really getting out and being physical  cause if I am overweight, I don't have to get hurt from attaching to someone who might find me special.

And this is really not ok.

Yesterday, I went to see Sam. Now for those of you who don't know, Sam was (and is) Reid's best friend. He is a great guy. I will never forget the first time I heard about Sam. Fifth grade Reid was sitting at the table, eating dinner, and telling us about this great guy he met, who could "break pencils across his forehead". And as you know, that qualifies as the highest form of flattery in the world of a fifth grade boy. Reid and Sam did lots of things together. Some safe, some not. (They were very fond of sticking my small dog, Abby, in the microwave..but they didn't turn it on. I think).  Where you saw Reid, you saw Sam. And visa -versa.  Sam was (and is) bright, and funny, and just an all around great person.

When Reid died, the person I worried about the most (besides myself and Whitney) was Sam. I knew he would be fine, but just like I worried about Whitney, I worried about how Sam would handle the loss of his goofy best friend.

I shouldn't have.

Sam is amazing. He sailed through high school, and although it was so great to see him, it was also so hard to see him. Cause Reid should have been with him, you know.  That has changed over the years, and now I can say that watching Sam and how he has lived his life brings me a lot of joy and peace.

He's now in his senior year at UNM, majoring in Exercise Science, working at Defined Fitness as a trainer, and is an amazing bodybuilder. Torturous Dave left me, (well, not just me) to go to Arizona to be with his daughter and his grandson, so I thought that perhaps Sam could be the one that could work with me on my continuing journey to be a better me.

I was in for a huge surprise.

You see, I forget sometimes that I mean as much to people as they do to me. Don't ask me why that is.  I just do. And it seems as if Sam had been wanting for a long time to help me and support me in getting to my goals.

Wow.

I met with him last Friday, and he took my basic physical information (I so dislike that part), and I answered questions about my levels of health, and why I wanted to do this exactly.  And then he did my body fat composition.

Holy Cow.

When you work hard on staying confused, unfocused, and fuzzy about what is going on, you can really trick yourself...although you really know.   but when I saw my body fat percentage, I was stunned.

But here's the thing.

Sam explained to me in his own special way that there were a lot of people who loved me and thought I was a beautiful person. He mentioned Whitney, who has lost 3/4 of her immediate family, and would have an extremely hard time recovering from the lost of her mom. But the most  startling thing was that he informed me that I had a lot of good years to live, and that people should see me looking just as beautiful on the onside as he thinks I am on the inside.   He said that right now I am a ticking time bomb, and that it would be the coolest thing if he could help me get to where I need to be before he goes off to Florida to work on his PhD.

I've got to tell you the part about the ticking time bomb really was a wake up call for me..along with the part that if I am so fortunate to have someone on my side that cares for me, wants the best for me, and is willing to help me make it happen...I've got to grab on with both hands and do what I need to do to get to where I need to be.

And to know that Reid is up there, tooting his tuba at random angels, happy that his best friend and his mom are still down here making things happen.

Thanks, Sam.