Acceptance

Permission to Let Go

I have felt very distracted this week. Every time I sit down to write, something gets in the way. Even now, the words are not flowing even though I am at peace with the decision I’ve made. I’m choosing to start over and follow a different path, yet again and I want to share this process with you. Especially, if there is something in your life that it’s time to let go of.

Hands typing on an old-fashioned typewriter with letters falling to the floor.I am choosing to let go of the transcription business idea. There have been so many obstacles beyond what is normal. First, there was the discrimination which I would get no matter the field, but this was so blatant that it was even a surprise to me. Then I decided that my time, energy and effort was worth way more than 17 cents. The pitiful amount that some of these transcription companies pay their independent contractors is absolutely appalling. As one transcription group member said, “it’s highway robbery.” Finally, I took the time to apply to a third company and was so happy when I passed their test. Then when I received the daily E-mail with the work assignments, everything is in Google Sheets. While I can read the spread sheet, I can’t tell which assignments are completed and which need to be worked on. Their ways of assigning and completing work are very confusing to me. It was at that moment when I decided I was done!

As I’ve thought about this more and more, I’ve realized that this isn’t something I’m truly passionate about. If you aren’t passionate about your business, you will not succeed. I have no desire to push through all the accessibility barriers with each company I contact. I thought my grammar skills were okay until I tried brushing up on grammar and punctuation rules. I realized I want to be creating content. I don’t want to be duplicating and editing someone else’s. I don’t want to have to nitpick about commas, dashes and colons. I don’t want to transcribe phone calls where people sound like they’re under water or crappy audio with a constant buzz in the background. Most transcriptionists have multiple transcribing and sound editing software programs so that they can make the files understandable. Also, each company has a different style guide you have to memorize. For example, some companies want you to take out filler words and others prefer you leave most of them in. One company insists you type the curse words and another company requires that you use * symbols instead. Those are the simple rules, but these style guides go on for pages. The appeal of my own business is to follow my own guidelines, not everyone else’s.

The thing that drew me to transcription was the idea that I could make content accessible to people who needed it. The thing is, the people who genuinely need something transcribed shouldn’t have to pay extra for it. For example, if someone can’t hear, should they really have to pay for equal access? I don’t believe so. It’s a double edge sword. You want to provide a service and get adequately compensated for it, but then you don’t want to charge for something that should be available to them anyway. I also understand that providing access is only one part of the transcription field. Of course, I liked that I could transcribe from anywhere and have a flexible schedule.

A path of stones going across water.Now, here’s the good part. On that horrible day when I decided that enough was enough, I was scheduled to talk to a life coach. I had come across her in a parenting group on Facebook a few weeks ago. She is currently getting certified, so I asked her about the process and didn’t think much about it. I had almost forgotten about the call and when I realized it was scheduled for that night, I was dreading it. I was in such a horrible mood that I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to curl up with the blankets over my head. Not to mention that I hate calling anyone I’ve never talked to before, but I made the call anyway. I knew as soon as I heard her voice that I’d like her. She shared lots of information about the program and answered my endless questions. During our call, she did a mini coaching session and when she asked what my dream career would be, my first thought was coaching. I told her that I have really struggled finding a meaningful career and that I’d like to help others to get passed their road blocks and find what excites them. It became glaringly obvious to me that transcription didn’t even pop into my mind.

Balloon floating up into a blue sky with clouds.

The next morning, I started researching coaching schools and coming up with great ideas for a business plan. This is something I’m actually excited about and so many of the barriers that are there with transcription won’t exist in the coaching business. When I look back, the signs were all there. Physically, I was exhausted, stressed and felt low energy. I rarely had time to transcribe actual files or to practice at night. I wanted to be the best that I could be and I wasn’t able to do that. The money wasn’t there. The business counselor I was supposed to work with has been impossible to set up a meeting with. At first, my instinct was to push through, but then I started focusing on my mind and body. How was I feeling? Was I still passionate about my idea? When I really tuned into my thoughts and feelings, I knew it was time to let this go. After I did, I felt like a weight had been lifted. I had my evenings back. I could work on my blog. I could exercise. I could relax. Once I gave myself permission to let go, I felt so much better.

What do you need to let go of? What are you no longer passionate about? What are you passionate about and how could you be doing that instead? Those are some questions to ponder if you are in a similar situation. How do you know when it’s time to let go of something? Let me know in the comments.

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Coloring Outside the Lines

It was a rainy afternoon here, so Rosebud and I were stuck inside. She had just finished her snack and it was time for play time. I usually turn on music for background noise when we play in the living room. Rosebud likes to build with blocks, care for her babies and pretend she's Dr. Rosebud and gives me a checkup on a daily basis. Today when I turned on the music she said, "let's dance, Mommy." Normally this means just holding her hands and we spin around like we're doing Ring Around the Rosie, but today she wanted to actually dance. She kept saying, "you dance, Mommy." Then she was off doing dance moves that she made up on the spot. For a minute I froze and wondered what exactly to do. I'm a horrible dancer. I'm so self conscious even if it's just her and I. I told her that I wasn't a good dancer, but I'd try anyway and I started copying what she was doing. At least copying as much as I could see. Rosebud didn't mind my awkwardness. She was just glad to spend time together. After a few minutes, I was enjoying being active and I was grateful that she was so happy in that moment.

Little girl drawing with her cat watching.As the afternoon went on, I thought about my abilities as a parent and how some of the things I'm not good at really shake my confidence. There's the dancing which hopefully the neighbors weren't watching. I worried about it unnecessarily. Am I good enough? Am I doing this right? Then I have to remind myself that it's not about being good enough. It's about spending the time together and having fun. I'm horrible at drawing and Rosebud loves to draw. She is always asking me to draw with her. My shapes are crooked, the lines are rarely ever straight and forget coloring inside the lines, especially if the picture is complicated. It doesn't stop me from trying, but it always nags at me that's not good. I'm not showing her the right way and as she gets older, will this bother her? Probably not as much as it bothers me. I try because I want to be involved in what she's doing. Isn't that what's important?

There will be challenges in the future for us that most people take for granted with their children. It'll be difficult to teach her to read and write because she'll be reading and writing in a different way than I do. I hesitate to take her to places where there is a large group of kids because it's harder for me to find someone in a crowd. I'm not the best at socializing, so I worry about getting her the right amounts of social interaction. Sometimes when she's looking at something and asks what it is, I totally miss it. I miss the learning opportunity she could have had or just simply sharing the interaction of two people looking at the same thing in their environment. The challenges can seem endless at times, but what about all the things I can teach her and the gifts I can give? I let her enjoy the things I can't fully participate in or find ways to make activities work for both of us. We read a lot of touch and feel books, do lots of 3d art collages and play with play-dough.

Rosebud’s collage with puffy stickers.

I can teach her how to be a problem solver. When one thing is inaccessible to me, I might have to try something more than one way before I figure out what works. This is especially true with technology. I can teach her to step out of her comfort zone and try something new. I can teach the value of spending time together making memories. I can teach her how to listen. This skill is highly underrated. I can teach her about kindness and compassion towards both people and animals.

One of Rosebud’s drawings that she calls,the bridge.There are people out there who don't even know me who might question my abilities as a parent. I might be a terrible dancer, a little socially awkward and color outside the lines, but I can fix boo-boos, bake cookies that make our house smell like a home and make time for snuggles and story time each night. I can make a perfect batch of play-dough and find the best bargains on toys. Most of all, Rosebud is sheltered, clean, safe and loved. When I see her happiness, the embarrassing and sometimes meaningless things that shake my confidence disappear. In those moments, I can see the big picture. The picture with color spilling over the lines that didn't need to be there in the first place. I'm teaching her to start with a blank piece of paper and make her own creation. She doesn't have to fit into anyone else's lines or boxes to be worthy and neither do I.



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Owning My Guilt

I'm reading Cara Alwill Leyba's new book, "Like She Owns The place”.

For those who don't know, Cara is an author and master life coach who works to help women empower themselves and change their mindset. I found her online several years ago and discovered that a lot of her message resonates with me.

One passage she wrote about guilt in, "Like She Owns the Place" stood out to me. She discusses the idea that women often feel guilty due to external forces. Such as ones culture, religion or the society they live in. It may come from childhood experiences or friends and family making them feel guilty. This may be intentional or not, but never the less, the guilt shows up. She poses the question, if you are not hurting yourself or anyone else, why feel guilty? Cara describes one situation where she was taking a day off from work, spending the day at home. Her plan was to binge watch a show and have a glass of wine. Meanwhile, her husband decided to reorganize a closet full of Christmas decorations. Seeing this, she felt guilty and went over to help, but he encouraged her to take time for herself. That’s the sign of a good man, by the way. She said she went back to watch tv, but it didn’t come naturally to her. She felt guilty for taking time for herself and not working.

I often feel guilty over things like this. Today, my mom took Rosebud so that I could rest as I haven’t been feeling well. I can’t rest though because I start feeling guilty and thinking of everything I need to do. If I’m napping on the couch, the laundry isn’t getting done. The dishes are piled up in the sink. Rosebud's toys need to be rotated. Countertops need to be dusted. That’s just the house work. Then there’s the work you actually get paid for. I don’t feel guilty about taking time away from my job outside the home, but I feel guilt over not working on transcription stuff. I think to myself, I should be transcribing practice files or doing the business plan paper work. As with the blog posts, I set imaginary deadlines and the guilt sets in.

A tropical beach with a chair and umbrella.

This week is supposed to be my vacation, but I’m having trouble just letting it be. I always have to fill my time and not necessarily with the things I enjoy. I need to feel productive even in times when I should be resting. The mom guilt is never ending. While Rosebud is not here, I’ve spent much of my time doing things for her instead of myself. I’ve washed toys, did laundry and prepared her dinner for later. It's one way to ease the guilt of taking time away from her. Then again, when I'm spending time with her just playing, I get that nagging feeling about the house work. Then when I'm cleaning or doing other things, I feel guilty about giving her screen time. While she's away, I’ve been pondering how to take away the pacifier. Should I try a gradual approach or go cold turkey? This was prompted by her visit to the dentist this morning. In between cleaning and thoughts of the annoying paci, I wonder how she’s doing. What is she doing right now? Has she napped? What did she eat for lunch? Then I think maybe I should watch some videos of her. Oh, wait... I better get back to work.

A pencil with eraser, erasing the word, guilt.

As Cara points out in her book, when we are old, what will we be worrying about? Will we be worried about all the times we should’ve cleaned closets, typed up that report or swept the kitchen floor? Definitely not! We will be remembering things we enjoyed. The times with our loved ones, the things we’ve created or times we did something crazy, fun and memorable. The fact is, we all need time to replenish ourselves. If we don't get that, we become unhappy and lose sight of our strengths, passions and our joy. We need to start erasing some of this guilt. If not, what are we teaching our children and what are we doing to our emotional well-being? I’m finally in my element. I’m taking the time to write which makes me feel lighter and taps into my creative side. I’m sitting outside enjoying the breeze on my face, the shade of a tree and listening to the birds over head.

The big tree in my back yard.

Here are some of Cara's other books if you are interested.

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A Daffidil in a Field of Hyacinths

I was going to write an entry explaining why I haven’t been posting as much and it probably would’ve started off with the words, I’m sorry. I was going to say that I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much and I was even going to apologize for the subject matter of my recent blog posts. When I started this blog, I mainly focused on parenting and kids activities with some self care tips thrown in. I will continue to do those blog posts, but my life is changing.

Daffidil in a field of hyacinths.I’m in the beginning stages of starting a business. If I had to compare the process to anything. It would be a plant. It’s a seed right now, but every day, it gets closer to sprouting. Each day, I take one more step closer to this goal. Also, I am being inspired by different things in relation to my writing. I am thinking a lot about my past and how my experiences have shaped who I am, so I will occasionally share that with my readers. I feel that with our political climate the way it is, it is important to share experiences so we can be more connected. These days, it’s easy to lose touch with humanity. We can hide behind a screen. We can stay in our own little bubble with liked-minded people. We all need need like-minded people in our lives, but seeing other perspectives helps us grow. It seems easier than ever to exclude those who aren’t like us. They are removed from us, so it’s easy to forget that many of our experiences are the same at the roots. In order for things to improve for all of us, especially our children who are growing up in this world we don’t understand, this needs to change. What would happen if anyone could reach out and find a mutual point of understanding or a shared experience? I have to write about what inspires me even if it makes others uncomfortable. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.

A cup of tea with a tea pot and pastries.This weekend, I listened to the Style Your Mind Podcast: Episode 102: Taking out the Energetic TRASH: How to Become a Match for What You Want. In this episode, Cara talks about how you should stay true to yourself and what inspires you. She talks about how you don’t need to be apologetic all the time. If you skip a day, a week or month of blogging, it’s okay. If it takes you a while to get out that latest episode of your podcast, it’s no big deal. What is a big deal is doing what inspires you and being available for those things that light you up. Honestly, I haven’t felt inspired to blog lately. I haven’t had the time nor the energy to set up crafty activities for Rosebud and I. I have come to realize that I can share more than that. Parenting is multi-faceted and so is my life. My life can be difficult, exhausting and chaotic, but it also can be productive, happy and beautiful and my blog is a snapshot of that.

Teddy bear holding sign that reads, “thank you very much.”

I will leave you with this thought. What if you framed being sorry in a positive way? I’m talking about when you are sorry for inconsequential things. Things that wouldn’t necessarily hurt anyone, but we are always apologizing for them anyway. For instance, what if you thanked someone for being patient when you are a couple minutes late? This way you aren’t feeling so negative and you are appreciating the other person for taking time to wait for you. I want to thank you, my readers for being patient with me as I find a direction for this blog. Thank you for reading my thoughts. I appreciate the comments, likes and shares. If my posts are spaced further apart, it’s because I want to write when I am inspired and not just because of an imaginary deadline I set for myself. I want to stay true to who I am and where I’m at in life. I have picked up many things from blogs I’ve read along the way. Whether it be advice, support, information, inspiration or even solidarity, I have taken those pieces and made them apart of my own journey. Thank you for sticking with me even when I am the Daffidil in the field of hyacinths.

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When I Become Invisible

Yesterday, I saw a post on a Facebook group that made me think about the times when I become invisible. This would be an amazing super power to have. Imagine the things you would see or hear. Unfortunately, I’m not talking about a hypothetical situation based in tales of fiction. I’m talking about an all too common occurrence.

Two cartoon people with an invisible person between them.

There are times when I’m out in public when people speak right past me as if I’m not even there. They prefer to speak to whoever I’m with. They probably figure it would be too awkward or they are just assuming that I couldn’t possibly answer a question. These questions aren’t about advanced mathematical concepts or interpreting the latest scientific research. No. They are questions like, what does she want to eat? Does she like this or that? What’s her address, phone number etc? What’s wrong with her? Why does she wear glasses? I could go on, but I’m sure you get the point. Everything they are asking, I would of course know the answers to, so is it really necessary to ask a third person?

Two women shopping.

Many years ago, I went to Cancun for a vacation. While I was there, I had my hair braided. A girl I was with had it done and I thought it looked cool. Anyway, when I came back I got lots of comments and compliments on it. It’s definitely not something you see around here every day. A friend and I stopped at a convenient store and while we were checking out, the cashier asked my friend where I had gotten my hair braided. My friend obviously knew the answer, but she did something I didn’t expect. She said, “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her.” The woman got quiet for a few seconds and then turned to ask me where I had my hair done. She seemed a little embarrassed and she should’ve been. I’ve never forgotten how my friend responded in that situation. She spoke up for me, but she didn’t speak for me. She let this person know that it’s not okay to speak past me and that I’m perfectly capable of answering questions that are directly about or involving me. I wish more people thought and acted like her.

Mother and daughter at cafe.

Another time, my mom and I were eating lunch at a restaurant. The waitress stopped by and put the drinks on the table. She starts talking to my mom and mentions how she should open the straw for me. I was so shocked and pissed off that that’s all I remember from their conversation, but I snapped at the woman telling her that I can open my own straw. Here is what I don’t understand. How can someone who walks into the restaurant, picks up a menu, orders food and appears to have a normal range of movement not be capable of opening the flimsy wrapper on a damn straw? Do you need 20-20 vision to do that? I’m curious… I’m also curious how this waitress thought I was going to eat.

The waitress didn’t respond to me and quickly left the table. My mom told me how I shouldn’t have snapped at the waitress because she didn’t know. She’s an older woman and she probably doesn’t know any better. She was just trying to be helpful. She told me I should stop getting so irritated with people and just let it go. This is exactly how these situations usually play out. We are just expected to take the treatment given and be gracious even if the treatment is shitty. Oh, they were just trying to help. Oh, they don’t know how to talk to you. Oh, they are scared. Well, they weren’t talking to me. They were talking past me and assuming I can’t do the simplest of tasks. I won’t accept that kind of treatment. Would you? Would you accept that for yourself? Would you accept that for your partner, your friends, or your children?

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When One Door Closes, Another Door Opens

I’ve been thinking a lot about my career path, my purpose in life and what I’m really passionate about. I’ve been taking an honest look at what I truly want and what would be a good fit for me. I’m reminded of the paths I could’ve chosen and the doors that were opened and closed for me.

Open door to green meadows.Several years ago, I applied to a mental health counseling graduate program at one of the local universities. It was quite a process. I did a lot of research on the program to see if it would be a good fit. Everything seemed okay except I had to take the MAT. I didn’t do great on the SATs so I dreaded this and of course it was horrible. Since I didn’t have much time and all the study guides were inaccessible to me, my mom and I poured over so many words we had never heard of and or couldn’t pronounce. If you don’t know what a word means, how can you compare it to another word? Most of the MAT is analogies. The only similarity to me was that these were groups of words that no one uses, ever! I got a score on the MAT that was good enough to get into the program, but it was only by a tiny margin.

The next step was the interview. I remember sitting across from two women. I don’t remember most of the questions, but I’m sure they asked the usual things. Why do you want to do this program? I’m sure they asked about previous work and academic experience. I remember them asking if there were clients I wouldn’t want to work with. I wasn’t sure what to say. I might have mentioned something about having difficulty working with child abusers, but the main thing I remember from the interview was explaining that I get frustrated with a cookie cutter approach. I believe that since each person is an individual, their treatment shouldn’t be based on the experiences of others. It shouldn’t be based on what stereotypes of the groups the person belongs to. The assumption that everyone should be the same and respond to the same treatment is what bothers me. Maybe it’s unrealistic or idealistic, but there should always be wiggle room for someone’s individuality, autonomy and the ability to have a say in the treatment or services being provided. I answered the questions to the best of my ability so I felt optimistic when the interview was over.

Cookie cutter people.

A few weeks later, I open my mailbox to find an envelope from the school. I started opening it on my way back up to my apartment. I wasn’t concerned. I figured I’d get in. I had done everything they asked for so when I saw that I got rejected, it stung.

I always had some doubts about whether counseling was right for me. Did I really want to hear about other people’s problems day in and day out? I wasn’t sure. Did I really want to deal with all that paper work? Could I really do this for a living? These questions swirled around in my head, but friends and family thought I’d be a good counselor. They told me I’m a good listener, I’m compassionate and want to help people. They told me that since I’ve been through a lot so I should be able to help others. The question I kept asking myself was not whether I was able to, but whether I wanted to. Was I doing this for myself or to please others? They told me I’d be successful. I’d make money. They gave me all kinds of reasons so I gave it a try even though I wasn’t entirely comfortable. I told myself maybe I’d like it. Since I was having a horrible experience where I was working at the time, I figured it would be a good way out. A major step up.

Since then, I’ve wondered what went wrong. Was it the low vision? A professor once told the class that blind people couldn’t be counselors because they couldn’t see body language. Therefore, they had no way of knowing how people were feeling. Although I can see some body language, it’s limited and that’s not the primary way I know how someone is feeling. I usually don’t get this wrong. My classmates immediately told me to call in and say something to her. It was a class over ITV. I didn’t though. I was too embarrassed plus I had to have a few courses with this professor and I wanted to continue getting good grades. She had no idea about me anyway because we never met face to face. Most of us were just faceless names to her. Maybe these interviewers felt the same way? It also could’ve been an answer to a question or the other applicants had better test scores. It could’ve been any number of reasons.

Just because my path is different, doesn’t mean I’m lost.

I shed a tear or two over that letter. They said I could reapply the following year, but I knew in that moment I never would. I took it as a sign that counseling wasn’t the right fit. Now that I think back. I am glad things turned out the way they did. My tears were more about failing or being rejected. I was disappointed that I didn’t get in, but relieved because I was unsure about counseling in the first place. That door closed, but the doors stayed open to things that are more exciting are a better fit for me. If I were to go down a counseling path, I would be interested in career counseling, but it took years of job searching and being dissatisfied with my job to figure that out. I wouldn’t have had that experience if I had went with my gut instinct and that’s really the lesson. A lesson that I’ve had to learn time and time again. Who am I really doing all this for? At the end of the day, the person I need to be happy with is myself. Sometimes failing is not really a failure, but an experience that redirects you, returning you to the path that was meant for you.

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A Butterfly In the Clouds

This weekend, my heart is a little heavy because of the events and social media posts I saw yesterday. First, there was another school shooting as most people in the US already know. While I don’t live anywhere near where the shooting happened, I wonder what the future holds. What kind of world do we live in where our kids can’t even be safe going to school? When I was a kid, I never thought of anyone bringing a gun to school. School shootings weren’t heard of. Now it seems as though there’s at least one every month. A friend of mine who grew up in northern Maine where hunting is quite common told me about how people would often have guns in the back of their trucks, but she never feared for her safety. Her peers didn’t play with guns and they certainly never brought them into school to shoot people. I think far too many people have access to guns that they shouldn’t have, but I don’t think that’s the entire issue. In my opinion, we don’t pay enough attention to mental health and more specifically why there are so many mental health issues in our children. We need to get to the root cause if we ever are going to stop this.

I’m not just talking about major mental illnesses. I’m not trying to further stigmatize an entire population of people because not everyone with a mental health diagnosis is violent. What I’m talking about is the disconnect between people and valuing themselves and others. It’s like there is no consideration of life. Other people’s lives don’t matter especially if those lives are different than your own. We need to find out why our children are so depressed. Why do most of us feel so alone when this is the era of connectedness? Of course most of those connections are superficial and I think many of the problems stem from that. Out of all our connections online, how many of them do we talk to on a regular basis? How many of them do we see in person? I’ve read some articles that say that parents spend more time with their children now than ever before, but I don’t see how that could be true. Maybe they spend more time in the same physical space, but it seems the disconnect is more apparent than ever.

I saw a post yesterday on Facebook about one of the local high schools. According to this person’s experience, many of the teens are getting bullied. They get called fat, smelly and unwanted. Some students scream white power in the hallways and from her account an autistic person was pushed down the stairs and that was just bits and pieces of her post. One commenter mentioned that this was happening in high schools everywhere. High school is no picnic for most people, but this is really sad and scary.

There is so much hate out there. I know it has probably always been there, but I’ve never noticed it as much. Maybe it’s because I’m from a relatively small place. Maybe it’s because people never had this many avenues to express it. I don’t know if this is the way people have always been behind closed doors, but I am noticing that people seem to be more comfortable expressing it in public. Social media can be a great thing and I see lots of positivity being spread every day. It’s a great way to find like minded people. Unfortunately, the people that have hate in their hearts can find like minded people as well and there is strength in numbers.

One of my Facebook friends posted An experience she had during her child’s field day activities. She is a blind woman who happened to be interacting with her child and and the group of children she was hanging out with. Some of the children were making negative comments so my friend intervened and encouraged them to say positive things to each other. There’s nothing wrong with that. I wouldn’t like my daughter saying hurtful things to others. Anyway, a couple of the parents had an issue with this and were talking amongst themselves about how blind people should stay at home and stop getting in the middle of everything. One of the mothers said that she couldn’t believe the government gave them money every month and they should stop strutting around. I have paraphrased some of the post, but it was really hateful. If you are interested, you should read it because she actually has a positive spin on it and isn’t letting it get her down.

Is it just me or are people more entitled than ever? Why do they feel the need to get involved in other people’s business when it doesn’t effect them? One example that comes to mind is when a friend of mine worked with people who have intellectual disabilities. Part of her job was to go grocery shopping with them. She asked one of her clients which brand of catsup he wanted. A customer next to them jumped in and asked why she’d bother to ask him because he won’t know the difference. “Why don’t you just get him whatever?” My friend explained that she always asks her clients about their preferences and yes in a lot of cases, they do know the difference.My first thought was, mind your own business! How is it really effecting his day? What does it matter to him what brand of catsup the disabled guy gets? Why does this hateful guy care whether he knows the difference or not? He doesn’t care nor does he want to be educated. He got the urge to be hateful and it made him feel better to treat others badly. He insulted the guy’s intelligence and continued to talk about him as if he wasn’t even there standing in front of him. I wonder how he would feel if he were the one who needed help shopping for groceries. Would he want to be given the choice or would he want everyone to assume he wouldn’t know the difference? This stuff makes me angry and just think, these are the people raising the next generation.

I often see people who are making positive changes in the world. In a lot of ways, things are better than they were in the past, but then you see these seeds of hatred. It moves us two steps backwards every time it springs to the surface. It’s like a stain you can’t get rid of. You wash it until it’s faint, but you always know it’s there. There’s always one tiny speck that won’t disappear. Today Rosebud said, “I’m a butterfly with wings. I jump like this. I jump right up into the clouds.” Doesn’t that sound like a better place to be? A butterfly flying through the clouds?

Butterflies, blooming flowers and clouds.

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Finding Peace

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I’m a fan of journaling. I was journaling daily for a while, but recently I haven’t been writing as often as I’d like. I was writing about some things going on in my life now and remembered this past experience. I’m sharing it because it’s part of letting go and making peace with myself and others.

There were a few girls in this group including my childhood best friend. These girls would eat together, go to each other’s parties and most of them had classes together. Occasionally I’d sit with them. I’ve changed the names in case any of them ever stumble across this blog. One of the girls, I’ll call Cathy. I don’t know what went on in her life, but she was a classic mean girl. At least to me. She would either make rude comments to me directly or to others about me while I was within ear shot.

One day, all the girls got up to leave the table except a girl I’ll call Britney. She was nice and I could have a normal conversation with her. Although we were never close friends. Britney said, “you’re all leaving me.” Then Cathy said, “yeah and look who we’re leaving you with.” She made a few comments like that over the years. I don’t know what her problem was other than she wasn’t comfortable being around someone unless they were just like her.

Cathy and I had one sociology class together. There was a section on racism and one assignment was to take a quiz to supposedly find out how racist we were. It sounds ridiculous and it is, but it was no surprise to me how her results would come out. As she counted her final scores, she even shocked herself. Suddenly, she gasped, “oh my god! It says I’m a racist.” The boy sitting next to her asked what her scores were and she said, “I’m not telling anyone.” The sociology teacher laughed at her. Inside I was laughing too because she was embarrassed and obviously ashamed.

I learned later that she moved to Florida. I wonder how she liked it because Florida can be a very diverse place depending on where you go. It’s not like the small towns we grew up in. While I was searching for people I knew online, I had discovered that she died. I didn’t know how to feel about that. Maybe a little relieved, indifferent, but not sad or regretful. From what I could gather, she had died in some accident. Whatever the cause, it was sudden and unexpected.

I’ve come to realize her comments weren’t about me. Her attitude wasn’t about me. She was obviously insecure and her negative judgements about others were a reflection of what she felt about herself. I would never wish death on anyone, but the nasty negative bitchy part in me says good, the world has more space for good kind people now. The problem with this thinking is that it’s a reflection of my negative feelings and has nothing to do with what she said or did. The other problem is that it’s unkind and when we hold on to these feelings, it keeps all this negative energy around us.

I don’t want to be that person. That judgmental insecure unforgiving person. I am better than that. It’s too bad that her life ended so suddenly when she was young and had a whole future ahead of her. Maybe by that point, she had changed. I don’t know. I hope that by the end of her life or maybe even in her death, she found peace and was able to get past the insecurities and judgements of herself. The judgement of others is always based in the judgement of yourself. It’s based in the parts of yourself you find unlovable and in some cases, the parts of yourself you hate. Those parts can’t always be changed so you can either accept them or spend your life wasting energy on trying to fix something that’s not broken. Sometimes it’s relatively easy and other times it can take a life time. I know I am still working on it. I hope those who loved her were able to find peace and healing as well.

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Donations Unwanted

It was late in the afternoon. You know, the time of day you start to fall asleep, but if you’re lucky, you get a second wind. If you’re not lucky, you can always get some coffee and hope for the best. So my ex and I decided to walk to Dunkin’ Donuts for ice coffee and a donut as we often did. Everything went as planned. The walk was nice, the traffic wasn’t too crazy and we had ordered our donuts and coffee.

Couple with cups of coffee and creamer between them

As we walk out of the store, this older man stops us and thrusts a 1 dollar bill in my hand. I had never had this experience so I ask the guy what it was for. He says, “it’s for you.” I said no thank you. I don’t need any money. Keep it.” I said all of this in a nice way. He kept insisting and I kept saying no thank you. After a couple go arounds, I kept the money because he wouldn’t take it back and I didn’t want to cause a scene. I might have given it to someone else to pay it forward, but I was basically out the door.

Donations Unwanted, What Not To Do, pin. Donation box with money.

I felt stunned and didn’t understand why someone would want to give me money like that. I didn’t look like I needed it. I was dressed in nice clothes, I clearly had purchased my food already and I certainly wasn’t looking for a hand out. If you give money to someone who obviously needs and is asking for it, that is your choice and there are different expectations around that, but you don’t go throw money at people just because you pity them. Some people say to just feel grateful because the guy was doing something nice. That’s all well and good, but when someone gives charity out of pity, it’s demeaning.

Cup of coffee with frosted donuts.

If the guy was ahead of me in line and paid for my coffee, I would consider that kind because lots of people do that as a way of paying it forward. I have been the recipient of that and have done that for others. It’s not based on pity or obligation. If this man wanted to do something charitable, there are millions of organizations he could donate to. There are tons of places doing research that he could contribute to if he wanted something related to disabilities.

Oh, another thing, what could I get with a dollar now days? You can’t even get a pack of gum or a candy bar for a dollar. If the candy bar is 99 scents, the tax puts it over a dollar so I guess I’d be out of luck. All joking aside, I work, pay my own bills and donate to organizations when I feel the cause is worthy. The sad part is I shouldn’t have to be telling people this. When I come across someone on the street, I don’t automatically assume that they don’t work or that they have a horrible life.

Donation jar with money.When I was a child, there used to be a blind man that sat in front of the grocery store usually with his accordion. Of course he had a tin cup sitting there for people to put money in. Whenever I’d walk by I’d be embarrassed for him. Everyone knew about this guy and occasionally people would mention him to me. I’d ask myself why he was sitting there basically begging and why he couldn’t get a regular job. I never liked that he was there because if people saw me with my visual impairment, they’d assume I was like him. Eventually he started appearing less and less, but perhaps that older man in Dunkin’ Donuts had that image in mind. The image of someone in need and not capable. I find that some of these assumptions are long-lasting and extremely hard to change even when there is plenty of evidence to the contrary.

Donations Unwanted, Assume Capability, Pin. Man with guide dog

I am generally kind to others and am grateful when people are kind in return. I appreciate gifts from those who know me, Curiosity that comes from genuine interest and I will accept help when it is given with kindness and understanding, but I am not and never will be comfortable accepting charity out of pity. I am a person who believes in hard work and caring for myself and others. I am a person not a charitable cause.

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I Fired My Nurse

The inspiration for this post came this afternoon after an experience at the grocery store. I hate grocery shopping with a firey passion for a lot of reasons which mostly involve the people I encounter there. This particular store plays some sort of monopoly where you get tickets every time you shop there. The only way you ever benefit from the game is if you shop there often and collect lots of tickets. Since I only shop there once in a blue moon, I don’t bother playing. My mom was at the store with me and she went ahead of me in the checkout line. The cashiers always ask if you are collecting the tickets when they start ringing up your items so they asked my mom when she was purchasing her items. then when it was my turn, I had mentioned an something I forgot to get so my mom went to get it for me. Meanwhile, the cashier asks me if I’m collecting tickets. I told her no, but within a few seconds, my mom returns. The cashier proceeds to ask her if I’m collecting tickets and of course she got the same answer. You’re probably thinking, what’s the big deal? Maybe she didn’t hear you. Maybe she spaced out. While those things may be true, situations like these happen to me all the time. Situations where people talk around me like I’m not there and questioning my abilities and maybe even my intelligence at times.

Woman with grocery cart.Normally when I write in my blog, I only focus on the positive and rarely ever write about something so personal, but I suppose that isn’t exactly authentic. People who know me in real life know that I’m visually impaired, but most people who I interact with online don’t. I usually dread telling people and do whatever I can to hide or minimize it. It’s because I know people will think of me differently once they know. I’m having second thoughts about posting this as I type. Anyway, I left the store today in frustration and I didn’t say anything, but there have been times where I’ve stood up to that.

Mother holding newborn baby.While I was in the hospital after Rosebud was born, there were mostly wonderful nurses who were caring and supportive. However, there was one who was absolutely horrible. She was rough while drawing blood from my baby, she was abrupt and generally had a negative attitude. It was obvious that I made her uncomfortable and that she didn’t think I could handle caring for my newborn. I’ll mention that I had a c-section due to complications and it was impacting my ability to breastfeed. Sometimes women who have had c-sections take longer to produce milk because of hormones and the trauma to the body. Anyway, for whatever reason, Rosebud wasn’t feeding very well and like a lot of mothers, I was having trouble getting her to latch. Most of the nurses were fine with helping me with this. Rosebud and I were starting to figure it out, but it was taking time.

I fired my nurse pin

This nurse would make me feel like crap every time I asked for her help. She’d say things like, “we’re working on independence today.” She kept going on and on about how I needed to get up and do things for myself which I had been. I was up and walking around a couple hours after she was born which the other nurses were surprised about. I would call for help with something and she’d take 20 minutes or more to finally show up. She asked what I did for work. I told her that I worked in childcare. Then she asks if I know how to change a diaper so I told her that I’ve changed hundreds, probably thousands of diapers over the years. She started insisting I needed to get up and change Rosebud’s diaper because we were yet again working on independence. I was under doctors orders that I wasn’t supposed to be moving around too much yet, but I would’ve changed her if she had brought her over to my bed, but instead she changed her across the room. Eventually she told me she wasn’t going to help me with any of the latching problems. that I was on my own. I’m sure there was a lot more that was said. It’s been over two years now and since I was hormonal and sleep deprived, I can’t remember every detail, but I finally lost it. When the supervising nurse came in, I told her that I didn’t want that nurse coming into my room again. I didn’t want her near me or my baby. the charge nurse said that she’d make sure she didn’t bother me again. She told me that the nurse was acting inappropriate and rude and encouraged me to fill out the survey that they send out to all patients which I did.

Parenting is challenging enough without dealing with someone questioning your abilities at every turn. I was confident in my ability to care for her, but breastfeeding was totally new to me. No one in my family had done it so I had little support. They didn’t understand why I wanted to continue with it, but I knew it was good for Rosebud. So when I got home, I started researching and talking to other mothers. Eventually everything worked itself out because of my persistence. And, yes, I did it independently. Everything from the research, to working with Rosebud to fix our feeding issues.

A baby floating inside a protective bubble in the clouds.I want other mothers to know that yes, you can fire your nurses. I did not know that and only learned that out of desparation. Also, it’s okay to advocate for yourself. It’s hard and sometimes you don’t know if it’s worth it or not, but it usually is. It’s not okay for people to treat me like that and I wish they wouldn’t, but at times proving people wrong has been a strong motivation for me. It has pushed me hard to achieve my goals. Sometimes it’s okay and absolutely necessary to surround yourself with a protective bubble.

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