critter under the house part II

I am sitting here at my desk in the nice, quiet, non-smelly, yoga room. That's right friends, the smell and its host are gone -more on that in a minute.  I was having a lot of back problems today so I decided to do some yoga before I settled in to get some homework done (it’s been put off for too long). Before I get started on my homework though I thought I’d break the news to you about the skunk. Well, you see, Mister Skunk got evicted yesterday. Let me recap the evening’s events.
After talking to my critter-busting co-worker, he had me convinced that I could save myself a big animal control bill if I trap the critter myself. So I believed him wholeheartedly. I mean why not? I am a capable human being.

critter under the house

I am sitting here in the sun room (which I refer to as the yoga room) listening to a unknown critter squealing like a newborn piglet. I think it's under the house. I’m not sure how he/she/it got under there (we shall call it a “he” for the sake of this story since it apparently got lost and didn’t ask for directions). I am not sure how long HE has been under there but he is apparently very pissed off about it. I heard the squealing earlier today and thought it was birds on roof. I didn’t give it a second thought. I came in here to do some homework this evening and I heard the squealing sound. I thought maybe it was my son doing his very best fire engine sound, high pitched enough to call the dogs from a neighboring county. Upon further investigation, I find that the noise is not coming from the roof (or upstairs) but it was coming from beneath the floor boards. Let me take you back a few days ago.
It was very early AM, still dark outside. I just woke up. I went into the yoga room to open the blinds. I heard a knock at the door. I froze. I almost pee’d myself. In that moment, I was defenseless. I had no idea where the Louisville Slugger was and the gun safe was in the other room. I figured if I stood there very still whoever it was will go away, right? ::Knock knock knock knock::. The sound was not coming from the door but the side of the house. I got up the nerve to sneak over to the window and peek outside partly expecting a face to be staring back at me when I parted the blinds (I've seen too many scary movies). I don’t see anything or anyone. I quietly peek on the other side, nothing. I sneak out of the yoga room back into the house. As I turn to close the door the motion sensor light outside comes on. I run over to the window and still don’t see anyone. I go over to the side of the house where I had heard the noise and peek out, nothing. As I went to step away from the window I noticed that the mulch had been dug up in the flowerbed by the house. It wasn’t someone knocking, it was some..THING digging! OK ..back to the squealing pig.
The sound is so mind numbing that I couldn't get any work done.So I go over to investigate. I listen. I hear it scratching the floor and knocking into the support beams. Oh yes, and squealing the entire time. I put my ear to the floor. I hear its labored breathing and low slow moans in between squeals. It seems to be in distress. I feel as though I should run out into the ice/snow and try to lure him out the way he got in. As I listen to the floor I smell a funny smell.It possibly smelled of … s.k.u.n.k. Folks, I can not make this stuff up. I’m not that creative. I seriously hope Pepé Le Pew doesn’t die under the house. I have no idea what to do. I’m not going out there. Nooo way.I’ve seen these scenarios on Animal Planet. I go out and rescue the thing and it turns out to be a raccoon and it claws my eyes out, bites me and give me rabies. I could DIE. OK maybe I didn’t see that on Animal Planet but it could happen. Since school is canceled (again) tomorrow my husband is going to call the critter control hotline and see if they can help us out. I’ll keep you posted as this plays out.

wasted

it seemed only appropriate for me to follow the "rehab" blogs with a blog titled "wasted" right?
My life this year has pretty much been an open book. It's safe to say that this year has been pretty stressful. In fact, if you scroll back through the older posts you can almost see the train wreck coming, its eerie. The '07 blogs were filled with funny stories about being a mom to my crazy tenacious child. The '08 blogs started pretty heavy. I wanted '08 to help me find my purpose in the world. I was tired of floundering and wanted a new direction. Little did I know that the new direction would take me off-roading on a tricycle. It is seriously amazing how much has changed in my life in just a year. It was a serious wake-up call if nothing else. When tragedy strikes it really forces you to take a serious inventory of yourself.
I feel over-exposed emotionally. I feel hypersensitive to everything around me. Everything seems transparent. In fact, this year has opened my mind up so completely that I didn't want to write about a lot of it because it was too raw. I had a hard time putting words around it and that, in and of itself, was a new experience for me.
Life is flying by and we aren't even guaranteed another second of it. I don't want to waste it. I don't want to be wasted, a casualty of circumstance. Its a harsh reflection to see yourself wasted or have someone else help you become wasted and fruitless.
So I will edit my personal mission statement...

to be continued in 2009

rehab - part II

(Continued)
So I grew up in rehab, sort of. As I mentioned in the earlier post, my mother worked there and I was occasionally exposed to the people that have been through their own personal hell and managed to find their way back. As a child I always wondered how someone could get so far into something like that and not find their way out. It’s so easy for those of us looking in from the outside. We wonder why they can’t just stop. How does this happen? I wanted to know. I always compared it in my mind to Hansel and Gretel: temptation, fear, and being suddenly overpowered and out of control. Then, in the final stages, when all hope seems lost you take drastic measures. Hitting rock bottom enables an individual to push the proverbial witch into the oven and escape.
It was always like a secret society to me. They were only known by their first name and maybe their last initial. My mother could not discuss their stories with me. As I sit here today and write these words the subject still fascinates me.
When I heard about a show called Intervention. I couldn’t wait to watch it. Not because I get enjoyment out of other people’s pain but because I had this desire to finally get to know the “how”. Intervention promised to take me on the journey and show me how bad it gets before people are willing to accept help. They came through on their promise. I was speechless. I cried. It was beyond what I could have ever imagined addiction could be. I was so thankful for those people for having the courage to share their stories. I wondered how many people were sitting at home watching the show and decided to make the decision to get help for themselves because the reflection staring back at them was just too eerily familiar.
VH1 decided to have their own rehab show. I was skeptical. I was almost a little pissed off. I have seen the circus that is created after they add the prefix of “Celeb” to anything they produce. It was almost a disservice to show to name it “Celebrity Rehab”. To me, it just seemed to minimize a very serious subject. They promised to take me on the journey of the actual rehabilitation process. Despite my trepidations, I had to tune in. Not only because it was about rehab but because it had Dr Drew Pinsky. I felt he would keep it real. They came through with their promise. I was speechless. I cried. I thought it was more poignant because they are the celebrities that we think we already know. They discussed the issues of maintaining their imagine while still trying to control the uncontrollable. I think it brought home the reality that the more they tried to pretend as if everything is OK the worse the addiction became. I also learned that addiction is more than just drugs and alcohol. The show addresses the fact that there are many types of addiction out there and they all stem from the same place. That was very sobering (so to speak). The people on this season’s show are amazing. If you have watched it from the first episode up until now… you know exactly what I am talking about. With each passing episode you see the clarity in their eyes. You watched them as they begin to feel emotions that they always tried to subdue with their drug of choice. It is like watching a newborn baby experience life for the first time. However, it’s not always joyous. Sometimes they come out of the fog and they are forced to see the mess they have created and they don’t want to face it. Dr Drew said something that totally made it all make sense. He told them that essentially what they were going through a period of grief. They are grieving for that monster that they became so dependent on that is now gone. There is an emptiness and they now have to work through it and build a stronger foundation, one that is not dependent on external stimulus to thrive. I think it is so important that he guides them through those stages of grief and reassures them that it is a normal thing, it sucks, but its normal! It’s both heartbreaking and heartwarming. I have both admiration and fear for them. I am shocked but not always surprised. As when “Shifty” from last season showed up in the last episode looking like he was about 30 lbs less the man that he used to be, strung out on crack. That is the reality of addiction. Sometimes rehab works and it gets people back on their feet to give it another go; yet sometimes they fall. This show was not afraid to show that aspect of it and I admire them even more for including it in their program. I continue to tune in weekly because I am just amazed …simply amazed.

rehab - part 1

I grew up in rehab. Not because I was an addict; but because my mother worked there. The words “scared straight” come to mind when I think of that time in my life. I remember going there as a young girl and seeing these zombie like people roaming the halls smoking cigarettes. They all looked very miserable and I was given specific instructions not to speak to any of them. I remember my mother trying to explain to me that it was not really a hospital, as I almost always referred to it. At a very early age I knew what “detox” meant and how horrible it was for the body to go through. I remember asking my mother what “rock bottom” meant. She was always very candid with me and I appreciated it. I heard stories about the effects of drugs and alcohol and how it can take you from the top of the world to the lowest low you could never imagine. I could never imagine why someone would do that to themselves intentionally.
The people that were there all suffered from something called “addiction”. I thought it was something I would catch if I walked too close to them. I learned that people felt powerless by their addictions and that they could not just stop. For some, it was not as easy as getting up and walking away. I learned that it calls you back. Even though you know you are done or maybe on the brink of death it keeps you wanting more. I was so scared of it. I was scared of what it does to people and how it made them appear on the outside. I thought of it as a monster that takes over people’s souls. I was scared of the building, the people and even some of the staff. It was the place on top of the hill that nobody talked about.
I remember thinking that “those” people were not like us. They were some dark group of people that came from a bad part of town. Perhaps it was the anonymity of it all that made it feel so dark. That is, until I got older. The staff became familiar or rather familial. I started to recognize some of the faces roaming the halls. They were teachers, parents, police officers, grocery clerks, and even a fellow student of mine. As I got older, I wanted to spend more time there and learn from them and listen to their stories - but I couldn’t. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized that these people, the ones that I was so scared of for so long, were the people that reached out for someone to help them. They were, in that moment in time, their own hero. They were on their way to recovery. It was then, too, that I was struck with the realization that there were many more out there that have yet to find the strength.
Today, I am still fascinated by their stories. I guess that explains why I am so drawn to shows like Intervention and even Celebrity Rehab. I don’t get to watch much TV these days but I have had both of these shows on my DVR at some point in time. I don’t particularly get a lot of enjoyment out of watching other people’s pain but in some odd way it helps me connect with my mom. It unravels some of the mystery behind what really goes on and what really happens to people with this disease. It has shown me how she had to harden her heart a little bit to do what was best for them, even though they didn't appreciate it at the time. These shows allow me to understand her world. These brave souls take you on their journey and you see how easily it can all go so very wrong.

refinement

I’m having a weird day. I think this election has made people slightly crazy. I get that people are passionate about their political views. I get it. In fact, I admire people that have a passion for something in their lives. I enjoy being around that positive energy. However, there is passion and there is lunacy. Lunacy, to me, is when people speak aimlessly out of emotion. It’s when that true, underlying insecurity rears its ugly head and people start to speak out of fear, anger and emotion. It’s so transparent and sad to witness those around you fall from grace and succumb to the negativity. When grown adults revert back to their grade school “I know you are but what am I” behavior it really is a hard fall. They say that when the pressure is on, people’s true nature shines though. I preface all of that to say that this election has taught me a very valuable lesson. It has taught me that even the most beautiful houses can be built on muddy foundations. It forced me to ask myself “Who will you become when your ideals are put into question?” As I get older I realize that I am not as idealistic as I once was. I am pretty steadfast in my convictions but I do not force them down anyone’s throat. I can respect other people’s views. It is the differences of opinion that sparks change. Having the ability to articulate your opinions and work toward a common goal is the essential for refining good ideas into great ideas. It is the difference of opinions that starts the forward movement of change! People have lost the ability to articulate without insulting people and their message is being lost in the lunacy of it all. It reminds me of when my son was still in a high chair, we would try to feed him and he would turn his head. Inevitably, we would all be covered in baby food but we never seemed to hit our target, his mouth! Until one day, I just set the spoon down. He reached down, picked up the spoon, and put it in his mouth. He was hungry for it so he made the choice to pick it up and eat it, not because I made him but because he wanted to. Aren’t we all that way? I can’t really think of anyone that likes to be force fed.
As adults, we refine ourselves. We learn to communicate ideas in such a way that others can relate to, which in turn sparks movement. We focus on the positive and work around the negative. We articulate our point of view so that others see the facts as we see them then let them make up their own minds. Some will follow and some will walk away. That is their choice. Do not take it personally and remember to keep moving forward.

"I'm becoming more and more myself with time. I guess that's what grace is. The refinement of your soul through time.” -Jewel

to my friends

Growing up I always viewed friendship as having a friend that was just like me, similar likes, dislikes, and so on. I wanted someone exactly like me, someone I could relate to and have fun with. I didn’t have many friends in high school, I could probably count them all on one hand, but I found comfort in that.
I went out this weekend for the first time in a very long time. A co-worker had a CD release party at a local club. A woman that I know introduced me to her best friend. She was very proud of her friend and mentioned that they had been friends forever. The two were like twins. They knew everything about one another. They were essentially the same person in different bodies.
This whole concept is foreign to me. I don’t think I have ever had a friend like that. The more I thought about it the more I wondered if that was such a bad thing. After all, I had grown up thinking that’s what a friend is supposed to be.
Now that I am older my perspectives on people and friendships have changed quite a bit. Actually, I think it has gone in the opposite direction. I enjoy meeting people that are NOT the same as I am. I like learning about people and what makes them “tick”. I have developed an affinity for people that have a passion for things in their life (whatever that may be). Sure there needs to be some things that we can relate to on a personal level. Perhaps a mutual understanding for one another is really all there needs to be. I like to meet new people now. You never know what worlds will open up.

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."- Anais Nin

Still, some things never change. I still don’t have many friends (family excluded). I go it alone for the most part. There are very few people that really know me. But for the friends that stay, I cherish each one. I saw a few of them this weekend. There is something in the power of friendship that just makes you feel rejuvenated afterwards, a feeling of peace. I have an appreciation for their individuality and the gifts that they have brought into my life. I hope they know that ;-)