Just Jot it January #25–Balance

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 25th is brought to you by JP! Click here to find her last post (honestly, I’m assuming JP’s a her–sorry, JP, if I’m wrong) and say hi while you’re there! JP’s word for our prompt today is “balance.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

For years I spent every minute of my life worrying.
I worried about money.
I worried about my health.
I worried about being a good parent.
I worried about the consequences of failure.

The last 2 years have taken so much from me that I have learned a whole new way of life. Life was once analogous to walking a tight rope. One slip and I would lose everything. A fall would be into a pit of alligators and razor blades.

Now, looking from the base of the canyon up, I have such an appreciation for the joys of life that don’t revolve around money and success, that a fall from the tightrope may be a fall into a pit of rubber balls and puppies.

Walking that tightrope, I wouldn’t be so worried should I lose my balance.

3,2,1

I was nominated for the 3,2,1 challenge by the awesome Cheryl @ The Bag Lady. I want to thank her for the nomination and also ask you to check out her page. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.

The idea is to post quotes about a topic. This one is on the ever elusive subject of TRUTH.

Here goes.

1)“Integrity is telling myself the truth.  And Honesty is telling the truth to others.”
Spencer Johnson

The above quote rings true for me in so many ways. First, I never had peace in my own skin until I took a long, hard look at myself and acknowledged my shortcomings. By recognizing my flaws and owning up to those things that I was not proud of I was able to get over myself and get to work. Beyond and above being able to forgive myself, I was able to compose a plan to improve myself.

Second, people need to hear the truth. Everyone says they want the truth but they don’t. Their biggest mistake is to ask and not be ready for the answer. I have often found myself in the role of truth teller. My candor and lack of pretense make me a good fit for the role. It’s a necessary one in the plastic and disingenous society we are becoming. The truth can hurt, can be disrupting, and it can piss you off. But it needs to be said if you want to walk this earth just and upright. I’m glad I found my own truth, apparently noone had the testicular fortitude to tell me. The truth has made me a better version of myself. I will never be a perfect man but I always endeavor to be a good one.

2) “What someone considers the truth is considered by someone else as a lie.
Bangambiki Habyiramana, The pursuit of dreams

This speaks to me on so many levels and brings complex emotions to the fore, but it’s actually not complex at all. Propaganda and misinformation are not new, but in the age of the internet, short attention spans and a biased media it is more important than ever to not accept everything we see, read and hear as gospel. We need to seek our own truth, question what we are told and make an effort to suppress our first reaction and approach it rationally. Too often we think with our feelings, while the truth is devoid of emotion. It is only about facts.

I won’t be nominating anyone. Play along if it makes you happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Bird-Day

My family always had a bit of fun with me at the Thanksgiving table when it came my turn to say what I was thankful for. Maybe I waxed a bit too poetic about deployed soldiers, the homeless and the lonely. I just felt it needed to be said. Eye rolls and sarcastic cracks aside, I still do.
Recent events in my life, while debilitating in some aspects, have had a profound impact on my ability to be grateful. It is almost a superpower. I have so much for a guy with so little. The best part is that it lasts all year, not just the holiday season.
If you live with the knowledge that no matter your situation, someone always has it worse you will achieve a generous spirit that will survive more than one Thursday a year.
This time of year there is an abundance of people who show up at pantries and shelters to volunteer. Sometimes people are even turned away because too many show up. But in August they are begging for volunteers. The need doesn’t go away when the trees are taken down, neither should the spirit. Giving doesn’t have to be a grandiose gesture. A simple smile and a good word may be all someone needs to have their faith in humanity restored or energized.
No-one can do everything, but everyone can do something.
I am grateful for my family and my friends. I am thankful for all kindness and generosity, regardless of the scale. My goal is to spread that mentality like a bee spreads pollen.
Happy Thanksgiving to all. If you have a little extra spirit, I’m sure someone would love a slice.
Every day can be Thanksgiving with the right outlook.

Perception vs. Reality — MSich Chronicles

Have you met Steve? If not, you should. I challenge you to read this post and not “follow” him. This is the attitude that we all need to have, one that those with chronic illness can teach all of us if we open ourselves to it. It will definitely influence the way you look at others when you pass them on the street.

 

“I wonder what people think when they see me.” That was a common refrain of mine once the symptoms became entrenched and my mobility became compromised. I was never one who liked to stand out in a crowd, preferring instead to blend into the background. MS made that impossible. My inability to walk in a straight […]

via Perception vs. Reality — MSich Chronicles

Where you are is where you are meant to be

Today was a good day.

One year ago today I showed up at the town Food Pantry to hand out Turkeys and meal baskets to the less fortunate in our community. I was already a steady volunteer each Saturday but the Thanksgiving event was a separate, annual occasion. Our Pantry really steps it up, I think it’s the most generous around, we give absolutely everything one could ever need for a Thanksgiving feast including multiple Turkeys. We offer frozen and fresh, and I was charged with helping hand them out. As the youngest person there, charging me with manual labor made sense. I took my station on the Tailgate of Pete’s F250. Pete was a nice older guy, and as the day progressed I would learn that he had stage 4 Lung Cancer. Yet there he was, in the cold, handing out Turkeys in the cold. That day I went home feeling as if I was destined to have met him. I even wrote a post about it that nobody read. You can read it here if you would like.

Today, a year later, I worked with Pete again. I made a point of telling him how happy I was to see him. He was happy to be seen. He was one year older, much weaker and thinner. But he was there. He needed more help than last year and I was feeling good so I took the load off of him. I was proud to share a soul-warming endeavor with him. Little did I know that  today my heart would be challenged again.

I had gone to pick up a Christmas tree with another guy and when I pulled in to the pantry I parked behind a very decrepit Ford sedan. When I got out of my truck I noticed that the door was half open and the driver seemed to be struggling with it. I approached the driver and asked if she needed help. The gaunt, wrinkled face, adorned with an oxygen tube that greeted me was heartbreaking.
“Is this where the Turkeys are being given?” she asked me. She had labored to get the sentence out. The oxygen didn’t seem to help her, she was almost gasping for breath.
“Yes, in addition to a whole bunch of other goodies.” I replied. “Are you coming in?”
“I am, I’m just having a hard time getting out of my car.” Her labored breathing tugged at my heart.
I opened her door and helped her out. It was snowing and she was parked on an angle and really struggled. When she finally made it to her feet, I sized her up. 80 pounds at the very most, soaking wet. I assisted her up the driveway.

When we got inside, she claimed her allotted food. We offered her 2 turkeys, she insisted on one but we talked her into another. As I picked up her box of food I realized it weighed at least 50 pounds. There was no way that, even if I put it in the car for her (which I did for everyone) she could ever get it out. I portioned the box out into bags. When done, I concluded that she still would not be able to carry them. I knew what I had to do.

I walked with her to her car, 5 bags in one hand and 2 turkeys in the other, and loaded it into the trunk. I opened her door for her and helped her in. She thanked me for my help and said
“I’m June. I hope you have a nice Thanksgiving. You’re very kind.”
“I think I can do more” I replied. “Can I follow you home please, I would like to help you bring all of this heavy stuff in.”
“Oh, I could never. I have a friend that I can call. And my place is very messy.”
“June, may I insist? You also have a low tire. It’s snowing. I’d like to make sure you get home safe.”
She reluctantly agreed.

It was a slow ten miles. She drove very slow because of the weather and her tire. When we arrived at her apartment I knew from the humble exterior that the interior would be worse. I got out of my truck and met her at the trunk of her car. I knew she would try to grab some bags, she was very proud, so I grabbed them before she could. She laughed a little and led the way up her unshoveled walkway.

Entering her apartment I confirmed that it was indeed humble but it had a certain charm. She had plants and grow lights, some interesting décor and decent furniture. The only real clutter was about 75 feet of plastic oxygen tubing all over the floor. It was her lifeline of sorts.

After a slew of “Thank you’s”, we talked for a bit. As sad as her physical appearance was, her story was worse. June lived alone. Her youngest son is serving his 7th (yes you read that right 7th) tour in Afghanistan. Her other two sons are divorced and they moved to Kentucky. One ex-daughter in-law is still in the area with one grandson who is disabled. She has Emphysema from Asbestos exposure. When I asked her about Thanksgiving and who would be joining her she thinks that her ex-daughter in law is coming over. After hearing all of this I asked June if she had a pen.
“Why do you ask?” she replied.
“Because you are going to write down my name and my number and you are going to call me if there is ever anything I can do for you. You call and I will be here. Promise?”

She teared up a bit and she did. She said she will. I went outside and found my portable air pump and extension cord in my tool box. I found an outlet on the outside of her building and pumped her tire. Then I left.

When I got back to the Food Pantry a couple of people praised me for helping her. I personally couldn’t imagine not helping her. One lady, a regular volunteer, cautioned me about how some of our “clients” are “Sponges” and that I should be careful with my efforts. I couldn’t disagree more.

Basic kindness is the definition of a oft-misused expression…”it’s the least I can do.” Helping others, even in a small way really is the least that you can do. And you can do more.

I’m glad I met June today. In fact, just like last year, I think I was supposed to meet her. It all started by putting myself in the right place at the right time, and where I needed to be.

 

Someday

It’s a tired bit from movies and sitcoms.

Someone, when faced with losing a friend to marriage, or moving, or some other life-changing event says something to try to make them change their mind.
“But what about our plans to hike the Appalachian Trail?”
“Who will I travel Europe with?”
“We were going to make that movie.”
The response would be, to great audience applause, “Dude, we have literally never done any of those things.”

I always got a warm and fuzzy out of those gags because there is some truth to them. We do often envision ourselves doing something different, something exciting, something completely out of our comfort zone. Some are goals, others pure fantasy and others are doable, if one is able to overcome the logistic or emotional challenges that hold us back. Logistical challenges such as being employed, married with children could make hiking the Appalachian a challenge. Emotional challenges such as fear of flying make traveling Europe unlikely. Then there is the fear of change, a likely crippling yet common emotional challenge.

I have indulged in such yearnings myself but I failed to capitalize on the opportunities provided by youth of being free and unencumbered and able to go and do anything anywhere. Elements of my life always forced me to push those yearnings to the back burner. I worked and made money but I didn’t save any. I lived on what I made and before I knew it I was living to work and not working to live. Unfortunately, that never changed. Still, I had things that I wanted to do someday.

“Someday” is a wonderful notion. It is the carrot at the end of the stick. The mechanical rabbit at the dog track. It is the want of future “stuff” and “experiences” at a time when we have all of our shit together, are financially secure, and emotionally and physically able to do the “want-to’s” that call to us through open windows as we toil through the “have-to’s” of life. As we age, or sink further into the harsh requirements of survival they seem farther from our reach. Many, through planning, good decisions or good fortune reach that point. They successfully raise their kids, manage their careers and finances and eventually buy the boat, RV or Beach House, travel to Europe or spend the winter in Florida. I applaud them. They recognized, worked towards and then achieved their someday.

That’s not me. Still, the “somedays” call to me. They beckon to me to drop everything and just go. To shake it up. To jump out of that plane, run with the bulls, to get the adrenaline pounding through my tired veins again. My reality rejects them.
“Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

Fortunately I am a simple man that has never assumed or envied wealth. If you were to ask anyone who has talked with me over drinks about this and they will tell you that if I had a Billion dollars, I wouldn’t be much different than I am now. I wish for enough of basic things. Enough money. Enough food. Enough enjoyment and satiation. Rich enough to not worry when my oil light comes on. If I were to indulge in extravagance, I would want a small house on the lake, a new truck every 2 years, a snowmobile and 2 spaces in the garage for a rotating stock of American muscle cars. I would still wear jeans and flannel shirts.

I am now single and no longer working. My children are grown. All of the logistical challenges with the exception of financial have been removed. I may have only enough in the bank to travel to the end of my driveway but I am able to attempt some modest adventures. This should be a very encouraging time for me to chase a few “somedays”. Unfortunately, in the place of the aforementioned removed obstacles, the specter of illness has clouded my horizons. It has rendered me weak and requires me to be close to home. My somedays, despite their simplicity in scope and cost are very far out of reach. In short, my simple dreams went from Goal, to Unlikely, to the morbid status of Bucket list, the status that implicitly denotes an urgency to do certain things before you die.
Fortunately, I do not fear death. I have faced it several times and have handily beaten the bastard each time. What I fear is a life unlived. If given the gift of clarity when I take my final breath, I hope to look back at the film reel (gag reel?) of my life and see that I left it all on the table. Then I will die happy. I will hopefully be remembered as someone who left an impact on those that that I met.

I have accepted the fact that I am not going to live a long life. Reconciling with my mortality has been liberating and I am thankful for the lessons it has taught me. I learned to tell people how I feel about them today, I don’t want to talk to an unresponsive slab of granite later on. I try to be honest, grateful and kind to my fellow man because all of these traits are vanishing from society at an alarming rate. Finally, I learned to live for today.

Yesterday is gone, today is almost over, and tomorrow is not guaranteed. My “someday” is not as far off as it is for others. Each day is a gift, that’s why it’s called the Present.