Okay, okay... I know. You're not too happy with my last posting. I've heard from several of you that you didn't much care for it very much and had some concerns... So here you go:
Why are you still angry / hateful? Can't you get over it?
I'm sure I will, one day. And I'm not angry all the time... it's not a seething, never ending feeling of loathing. It happens in unexpected spurts, between feelings of contentment, independence, strength and optimism. But yes, sometimes I am angry because my life changed in the last year in many painful, unexpected ways. I've turned into a person that I really don't want to be: Single at 34 with an ex-husband who left me with no explanation to be with another woman. A year ago, I was married to a man that I'd been with for 12 years. And while in hindsight it certainly wasn't a perfect marriage, I was committed to it. I loathe that the feeling was not mutual. I loathe that my marriage failed. And all of this happened and changed at the same time that I was laid off from my job. It's been an entire life-upheaving change in a single year. But I'm making progress... and I'm making salmon. That's one small step that is just the beginning of a long journey into real happiness. But for now, I need to be angry and hurt and upset sometimes, and I need to write about them. (I also need to have adventures, have fun, and live out my dreams, which I am also doing... but the blogs about those aren't the ones that people get upset about.)
Yes, all of this happened for a reason, and yes, all of it will turn out for the better for me. But for now, it is what it is.
Aren't you tired of being angry?
Yes. It's exhausting. It sucks. I wish I wasn't angry. But I'm human. And I'm not nearly as angry as I was a year ago... so that's progress...
Am I the one you're wanting to punch?
Probably not. In the last year, I've learned that things take you by surprise, and what you think your reaction will be is not necessarily the reality. So if you think that I'm talking about you, you're probably wrong. It's like that song, You're So Vain... you probably think this song is about you.
Hate is not a very nice thing to feel. I don't like reading about it.
True... it's definitely not a pleasant emotion, and to be honest, I wish I could live without it. But as with most human emotions, I have 'em, and they're valid, and if you don't like reading about them, then... well... you can change the channel. I am writing this blog - as I warned most of you - without editing for my audience. No, it's not quite as fun to read about 'hate' as it is to read about skydiving, but this is my life.
Why can't you just forgive (him/her/everyone) and move on?
Ooh, that's a big one... I want to first debunk the prevailing myth that "forgiving" someone is a one-time shot that is "required" of the offended party in order to make the world right. I don't feel like it is necessary to forgive someone in order to move forward... it is, however, necessary to forgive oneself. It seems that people think that "forgiving" someone is something very easy to do: Either you do, or you don't, and "forgiving someone" happens in one big flash of enlightenment and then afterwards you can skip all the way through the forest to grandma's house eating cookies and living happily ever after. Anyone who has ever been wronged will tell you that this is as realistic as a fairy tale itself.
And I also very much despair at the idea that if you do not forgive someone who has wronged you, then you're a bad person. To be blunt... that's F'd up. First of all, this puts the responsibility on the one wronged to make it 'right' by 'forgiving', which is a lot of responsibility to put on someone's shoulders who has been seriously wronged. Second, it also negates the fact that the person who is wronged can go through the ups-and-downs of life and if they feel forgiving one day and not the next - that this flip-flop makes them a "bad person". I prefer to think of things on an hour-to-hour basis: Sometimes I have forgiven some people for some things for an hour, and then something will bring that back to being angry and 'unforgiving.'
That's not very Christian of you.
Yes, it sounds positively un-Christian and against everything you're 'supposed to do' according to what society says is 'right'. Without getting into religious debates, I argue that society often promotes behavior that is unrealistic in its expectations and counter-intuitive in it's execution.
I also recommend that if you want to read more on how I feel about 'forgiveness', there's a much more articulate and eye-opening version in Janice Spring's book: How Can I Forgive You?: The Courage To Forgive, the Freedom Not To. To quote, "We have been taught that forgiveness is the only healthy, morally sound response to violation, and that it must be granted without conditions, even when the person who hurt us is unremorseful.... Dr. Spring proposes a new alternative that lets us overcome the corrosive effects of hate and get on with our lives -- without forgiving. She also offers a powerful and unconventional model for genuine forgiveness -- one that asks as much of the offender as it asks of us. Forgiveness is no gratuitous gift, she argues. We can heal ourselves, but forgiveness must be earned."
At this point, I can honestly say that forgiveness is fleeting, and I don't feel has properly been earned. Yes, that's my opinion. Yes, that may not jive with what people think I 'should' do... but it is what it is, and yes, I'm still moving on with my life.
Okay, enough of that for now. I promise more frivolous musings later.
.
Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts
31 January 2007
29 January 2007
Opposites
In the last few months, I've begun to re-evaluate what some definitions mean in the relationship world. Admittedly, most of my thoughts are currently slanted towards my own decidedly UNromantic experiences over the last year, but that's the clay I'm working with these days, so cut me a little slack. In the end, it really comes down to a bit of a reinterpretation of some assumptions we make... and an analysis of the tendency to over-simplify some terminology that - being human - we use to try to classify the world in certain ways that make sense.
To call words "opposite" is simple. Naming opposites is easy when you're first presented with the challenge:
Black - White
Wet - Dry
Tall - Short
Love - Hate
But is it that simple? My sister was the one that started my thoughts on this when several months ago she said to me:
"The opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference."
I suppose the root of the argument against pairing 'love - hate' as opposites would be grounded in the emotional aspects associated with the words. After all... hate does indicate that one cares about the other party and how they feel - that actual time, emotional energy and thought is actively put into considering the 'other', and that the 'other's' actions have some consequence to how you react and feel about the world, small or large. Does the Taliban hate what the West represents? Yes. But it's an active, heated, emotionally-charged emotion. Similar and even identical adjectives are used to describe the emotion of love.
On the flip side of this, indifference would indicate that there is no emotional attachment - by it's very definition, little 'heat,' or 'activity' or 'emotion' is involved. My sister said this statement to me a few months ago, at a time when I was lamenting the fact that certain things were still "getting to me" and that after the life I've lead in the last year, it would seem simpler not to care at all.
My other friend remarked that if I did not care, I would not be me.
Indeed, indifference seems an unattainable goal for myself... it's not something I would ever describe myself as being, when it comes to other people and their lives. And perhaps it's best that it is unattainable - I'd much prefer to live my life caring too much about things than be accused of caring too little.
Before this year, I had never felt what I would classify as hate in my life. In that way, I considered myself lucky... and yes, sheltered, I'll be the first to admit it. I 'hated' cancer when it took my mother from me, but that's not the same as the personification of the word. Rather, I found pride in the fact that I could think of no one that I could find enough reason to hate. Yes, it's communistic in its reading, I'll admit. And naive. And rather "peaced, loved and happinessed" up the wazoo. Gag me.
To some extent, it would make sense that now would be the time that I would first feel what I would describe as hate. (But still, in an attempt to maintain my standing as a "good person," I try to qualify it, and temper it, and make myself a better person: "It's not the person that I hate, but the effect that this person's actions have had on my life." Logically it makes sense... But when does life follow logic? The reality of it makes me want to punch their lights out (and now that I take karate, I know how.) Of course it won't happen, even if presented with the opportune moment. But I can't wish strongly enough that fate never puts us on the same subway car or street corner.)
But even now, the 'hate' feeling still gets ambiguous for me. Because if it were not for the actions of this 'other' in my life (and accomplices, lest you think I relegate the responsibility to one single person), I would not have had my eyes opened to the possibilities of bettering my life. I would not have realized the limitations and suppression that I had been subjecting myself to on a daily basis. I would not have seen the potential of a better, stronger and healthier form of love. I would not have the opportunity to find my way out of compromising myself.
So then, does hate include gratitude? Of course not... that makes no sense.
But does the opposite of love include gratitude? In this case - for me - yes, there is an element of that. But again, this makes no sense.
I'm rambling now. Yet I cannot help but be thankful for the veil that I had placed on my life being lifted, however painfully that eye-opening was for me. I suppose it's all about the experience... that's what we ultimately walk away with. And for the record, I hope I never become indifferent, because that would negate so many things. After all, can one really know love without knowing hate, at least on some level? They may not be perfect opposites, but in the end, rarely is anything perfect... and who would want it to be?
In the end, I hope that the new definitions I've found will lead me to more redefining in the future: That one day I'll experience what love really means, since I seem to have misinterpreted it thus far. I'll find what promises mean, what commitment means, what support means... and yes, what marriage means. So far, I've seen the opposites of these... and I can only hope that the flip side is as relatively joyous as the journey thus far has been painful.
To call words "opposite" is simple. Naming opposites is easy when you're first presented with the challenge:
Black - White
Wet - Dry
Tall - Short
Love - Hate
But is it that simple? My sister was the one that started my thoughts on this when several months ago she said to me:
"The opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference."
I suppose the root of the argument against pairing 'love - hate' as opposites would be grounded in the emotional aspects associated with the words. After all... hate does indicate that one cares about the other party and how they feel - that actual time, emotional energy and thought is actively put into considering the 'other', and that the 'other's' actions have some consequence to how you react and feel about the world, small or large. Does the Taliban hate what the West represents? Yes. But it's an active, heated, emotionally-charged emotion. Similar and even identical adjectives are used to describe the emotion of love.
On the flip side of this, indifference would indicate that there is no emotional attachment - by it's very definition, little 'heat,' or 'activity' or 'emotion' is involved. My sister said this statement to me a few months ago, at a time when I was lamenting the fact that certain things were still "getting to me" and that after the life I've lead in the last year, it would seem simpler not to care at all.
My other friend remarked that if I did not care, I would not be me.
Indeed, indifference seems an unattainable goal for myself... it's not something I would ever describe myself as being, when it comes to other people and their lives. And perhaps it's best that it is unattainable - I'd much prefer to live my life caring too much about things than be accused of caring too little.
Before this year, I had never felt what I would classify as hate in my life. In that way, I considered myself lucky... and yes, sheltered, I'll be the first to admit it. I 'hated' cancer when it took my mother from me, but that's not the same as the personification of the word. Rather, I found pride in the fact that I could think of no one that I could find enough reason to hate. Yes, it's communistic in its reading, I'll admit. And naive. And rather "peaced, loved and happinessed" up the wazoo. Gag me.
To some extent, it would make sense that now would be the time that I would first feel what I would describe as hate. (But still, in an attempt to maintain my standing as a "good person," I try to qualify it, and temper it, and make myself a better person: "It's not the person that I hate, but the effect that this person's actions have had on my life." Logically it makes sense... But when does life follow logic? The reality of it makes me want to punch their lights out (and now that I take karate, I know how.) Of course it won't happen, even if presented with the opportune moment. But I can't wish strongly enough that fate never puts us on the same subway car or street corner.)
But even now, the 'hate' feeling still gets ambiguous for me. Because if it were not for the actions of this 'other' in my life (and accomplices, lest you think I relegate the responsibility to one single person), I would not have had my eyes opened to the possibilities of bettering my life. I would not have realized the limitations and suppression that I had been subjecting myself to on a daily basis. I would not have seen the potential of a better, stronger and healthier form of love. I would not have the opportunity to find my way out of compromising myself.
So then, does hate include gratitude? Of course not... that makes no sense.
But does the opposite of love include gratitude? In this case - for me - yes, there is an element of that. But again, this makes no sense.
I'm rambling now. Yet I cannot help but be thankful for the veil that I had placed on my life being lifted, however painfully that eye-opening was for me. I suppose it's all about the experience... that's what we ultimately walk away with. And for the record, I hope I never become indifferent, because that would negate so many things. After all, can one really know love without knowing hate, at least on some level? They may not be perfect opposites, but in the end, rarely is anything perfect... and who would want it to be?
In the end, I hope that the new definitions I've found will lead me to more redefining in the future: That one day I'll experience what love really means, since I seem to have misinterpreted it thus far. I'll find what promises mean, what commitment means, what support means... and yes, what marriage means. So far, I've seen the opposites of these... and I can only hope that the flip side is as relatively joyous as the journey thus far has been painful.
18 January 2007
Eat more apples.
January 18th, and I'm 34 years old.. plus one day. It's time to make my resolution.
"But wait!" you gasp... "Aren't resolutions meant for January 1st?"
Yes, that's true. For the normal person, it does indeed make sense to start the year with a fresh outlook on life. However, for most of us Capricorns, the birthday undermines and thwarts most efforts at sticking to January 1st resolutions. First off, this doesn't allow for the post-holiday consumption of gift candies and egg nog. If your stocking - like mine - is filled with Hershey's miniatures (thanks, Sue!) then there is no way that you can be finished with them by January 1st in order to start the inevitable "I'm going to be healthier this year" mantra. Plus there is the impending birthday cake, birthday drinks, and birthday parties to be wary of that will challenge, smother and bury with no marker any will power that a healthy resolution requires. If you try and fail THAT quickly, then there's no way a resolution will stick for longer than a few days.
As a result, I make my resolutions the day after my birthday. Somehow it makes the whole process a bit more personal, I think. After all, throngs of people aren't asking "What's your resolution this year?" and by now, the inundation of articles and headlines guilting you to "DIET UNTIL YOU'RE DEAD!" and "OBSESS ABOUT YOUR EXERCISE PLAN!" have begun to die down (and it's still to early for the "Bikini body in 6 weeks!" stuff to appear.)
Yes, January 17th is the perfect time to start a resolution.
I had a lot of directions I could have gone in the resolution department... There certainly are a myriad of things for me to choose from looking back at my past years' experiences: Find a better guy to be with, go to karate on a more regular schedule, pamper myself with massages every month, drink more mint juleps... all of these are perfectly legitimate and fabulous resolutions (and some of which I may do anyway, though they may not be "officially" resolution-bound.) I've been pondering what my 34th-year resolution would be for the last week or two, because I do believe in letting things simmer in the thought process, until - like a toaster - the perfect resolution pops out, nicely browned and perfect for consumption.
I was having quite a rough day today. Actually, it's been a rough two weeks that culminated in a really rough day. It's been two weeks chock full of looking back over painful losses and devastating life changes in the last year. I've lost what I thought was a good marriage (but really, in hindsight, wasn't very good at all), I lost my best friend (and the betrayed trust was worse than the infidelity), I changed jobs and had a few months of unemployment (at the same time as my marriage was falling apart), and my closest buddies in Manhattan have all moved to other states (or countries.) So this week, I think the mental shit hit the fan. I was talking about this with my friend this afternoon... a very emotional outpouring, with lots of tears and a swollen red, runny nose (that was me, not my friend - and if you know me at all, you know that tears are not my modus operandi. They are rare, so when they are seen, they scare most people.) So when said friend asked me suddenly during this emotional moment what my resolution would be this year (she knows of my birthday resolution practice)... my immediate response was:
"Eat more apples."
I think she was expecting something a little different. Perhaps something a bit deeper, or more introspective. Perhaps something a bit more philosophical, or psychobabbly, or at least more broadly superficial and self-indulgent. Something along the lines of "Learn not to be perfect" or "Look towards the future and not dwell on the past" and perhaps even "Find a really hot guy"... but, gentle readers, the apple gets it for 2007.
It's simple, and yet surprisingly complex. And in case you think of the simple Red Delicious, please allow me to expand a bit on my qualifications: Not just any apple will do. I have begun to shy away from a former favorite, the Macintosh, in favor of the crisper flavors of the Fuji. I also choose organic, mostly because I cringe at the thought of eating pesticides. I like my apples room temperature (not just out of the fridge) and sliced off the core, please. And don't mess it up with things like peanut butter or caramel... The perfect apple satisfies so many needs. (I have to give a shout out to Jenn, who - earlier in this emotionally draining week - managed to buy me the perfect Fuji apple at the perfect moment... and who therefore directly inspired my resolution. It was this perfect apple at this perfect moment that I was thinking of when the resolution popped out of my mental toaster. Thank you, Jenn.)
The apple - as my friend acknowledged after my recent roller coaster of a year - was actually a pretty good resolution. It's healthy, sweet, takes care of you, and at the same time, is a reward in its own right. It's flexible in its application, and resilient in its form - you can eat it raw, baked, fried, or pureed. It's sturdy enough to be made portable, but can be made malleable under the right treatment. It's sweet, but not overwhelmingly so... and can kick back when it needs to (ever had an unripened Macintosh?)
Kind of like life... sweet, but sometimes sour... good for you, unless in excess, and solid in form - unless neglected, at which point it rots away. I think it's that simplicity that appeals to me now... the straightforwardness of an uncomplicated goal. There's no esoteric bent or unachievable psychological goal, no need to live up to unnecessary pressures from society or oneself, no intellectual exhaustion or physical injury to be had... it's just an apple. And it's good for me. And not very likely to betray me. Sure, there's an intermittent worm (what do you expect from organic?) but in the end, there will always be worms in life...
just be careful you don't marry one.
"But wait!" you gasp... "Aren't resolutions meant for January 1st?"
Yes, that's true. For the normal person, it does indeed make sense to start the year with a fresh outlook on life. However, for most of us Capricorns, the birthday undermines and thwarts most efforts at sticking to January 1st resolutions. First off, this doesn't allow for the post-holiday consumption of gift candies and egg nog. If your stocking - like mine - is filled with Hershey's miniatures (thanks, Sue!) then there is no way that you can be finished with them by January 1st in order to start the inevitable "I'm going to be healthier this year" mantra. Plus there is the impending birthday cake, birthday drinks, and birthday parties to be wary of that will challenge, smother and bury with no marker any will power that a healthy resolution requires. If you try and fail THAT quickly, then there's no way a resolution will stick for longer than a few days.
As a result, I make my resolutions the day after my birthday. Somehow it makes the whole process a bit more personal, I think. After all, throngs of people aren't asking "What's your resolution this year?" and by now, the inundation of articles and headlines guilting you to "DIET UNTIL YOU'RE DEAD!" and "OBSESS ABOUT YOUR EXERCISE PLAN!" have begun to die down (and it's still to early for the "Bikini body in 6 weeks!" stuff to appear.)
Yes, January 17th is the perfect time to start a resolution.
I had a lot of directions I could have gone in the resolution department... There certainly are a myriad of things for me to choose from looking back at my past years' experiences: Find a better guy to be with, go to karate on a more regular schedule, pamper myself with massages every month, drink more mint juleps... all of these are perfectly legitimate and fabulous resolutions (and some of which I may do anyway, though they may not be "officially" resolution-bound.) I've been pondering what my 34th-year resolution would be for the last week or two, because I do believe in letting things simmer in the thought process, until - like a toaster - the perfect resolution pops out, nicely browned and perfect for consumption.
I was having quite a rough day today. Actually, it's been a rough two weeks that culminated in a really rough day. It's been two weeks chock full of looking back over painful losses and devastating life changes in the last year. I've lost what I thought was a good marriage (but really, in hindsight, wasn't very good at all), I lost my best friend (and the betrayed trust was worse than the infidelity), I changed jobs and had a few months of unemployment (at the same time as my marriage was falling apart), and my closest buddies in Manhattan have all moved to other states (or countries.) So this week, I think the mental shit hit the fan. I was talking about this with my friend this afternoon... a very emotional outpouring, with lots of tears and a swollen red, runny nose (that was me, not my friend - and if you know me at all, you know that tears are not my modus operandi. They are rare, so when they are seen, they scare most people.) So when said friend asked me suddenly during this emotional moment what my resolution would be this year (she knows of my birthday resolution practice)... my immediate response was:
"Eat more apples."
I think she was expecting something a little different. Perhaps something a bit deeper, or more introspective. Perhaps something a bit more philosophical, or psychobabbly, or at least more broadly superficial and self-indulgent. Something along the lines of "Learn not to be perfect" or "Look towards the future and not dwell on the past" and perhaps even "Find a really hot guy"... but, gentle readers, the apple gets it for 2007.
It's simple, and yet surprisingly complex. And in case you think of the simple Red Delicious, please allow me to expand a bit on my qualifications: Not just any apple will do. I have begun to shy away from a former favorite, the Macintosh, in favor of the crisper flavors of the Fuji. I also choose organic, mostly because I cringe at the thought of eating pesticides. I like my apples room temperature (not just out of the fridge) and sliced off the core, please. And don't mess it up with things like peanut butter or caramel... The perfect apple satisfies so many needs. (I have to give a shout out to Jenn, who - earlier in this emotionally draining week - managed to buy me the perfect Fuji apple at the perfect moment... and who therefore directly inspired my resolution. It was this perfect apple at this perfect moment that I was thinking of when the resolution popped out of my mental toaster. Thank you, Jenn.)
The apple - as my friend acknowledged after my recent roller coaster of a year - was actually a pretty good resolution. It's healthy, sweet, takes care of you, and at the same time, is a reward in its own right. It's flexible in its application, and resilient in its form - you can eat it raw, baked, fried, or pureed. It's sturdy enough to be made portable, but can be made malleable under the right treatment. It's sweet, but not overwhelmingly so... and can kick back when it needs to (ever had an unripened Macintosh?)
Kind of like life... sweet, but sometimes sour... good for you, unless in excess, and solid in form - unless neglected, at which point it rots away. I think it's that simplicity that appeals to me now... the straightforwardness of an uncomplicated goal. There's no esoteric bent or unachievable psychological goal, no need to live up to unnecessary pressures from society or oneself, no intellectual exhaustion or physical injury to be had... it's just an apple. And it's good for me. And not very likely to betray me. Sure, there's an intermittent worm (what do you expect from organic?) but in the end, there will always be worms in life...
just be careful you don't marry one.
16 January 2007
The Last Moments of 33
Today is, officially, the end of the last day of my 33rd year on Earth.
Now if THAT is not a perfect surprise birthday party, I don't know what is! These guys rock my world, I have to say.
So that's the lesson here, I guess. 33 was rough. But because of the love that I have suddenly had to rely upon to make it through the last year of my life, I'm planning on 34 being an incredible ride... and my friends, you are welcome to take the journey with me. I couldn't have done it without you.
I have rather mixed emotions... At the same time, it's nice to know that the last year is something that I've survived, and have indeed gained wisdom, strength of character, and a jarring dose of lessons from a painful reality. Since I have started my 33rd year, I have lost my job of 11 years, lost my marriage of 5 years, and lost what I considered at one time to be my soul mate. There has been a lot of betrayal, a lot of pain, and a lot of tears.
But I have also found who my true friends are (and I mean TRUE friends), have gained an extraordinary amount of perspective on what's important in my life, and have learned to value myself as a person more than at any time before. I've also learned to go for what I love, to grab life by the balls, and do things that I've only ever dreamed... because in the end, it's all about the experiences.
They say that you can only know happiness after knowing sorrow. Dearest readers, I have known some small amounts of sorrow this last year... and I am now just beginning to understand the incredible potential for happiness and exhilaration that is possible after experiencing such things. The only thing missing is my mother, but she's with me in spirit always, so I just have to listen and I hear her giving me advice.
So yea, 33 is a good year to leave behind... so why the mixed emotions? Because 34 just feels really damn old!!! (Just kidding...)
On a more mundane and immediate note, I have to admit, the last day of "33" also started out a little rough... I had a jarring awakening by my phone, which I accidentally left on 'vibrate' mode and scared the crap out of me when the alarm went off. And for some reason, I must have been wearing a sign that said "run into me" because about 12 people bumped me on the way to the subway. I felt rather invisible. (I call these unpleasant days "invisible days", and usually they're annoying, but not grating.... today, for some reason, was different.) One lady almost sat on my lap in the subway because I was apparently transparent.
When I got to work, I received a call from my bank telling me that there had been an error that they were "attempting to rectify", and that several thousands of dollars in my account had been "misplaced." (How you 'misplace' electronic money is strange to me, but hey, I guess if people can lose something as nebulous as their mind, then I guess a few decimal points really isn't that surprising.)
I figured that this day was pretty much a summation of my last year of my life - a reminder that I didn't matter much to some people as I would like, and that you get screwed sometimes even when you're not paying attention.
On a much happier and more fun note... On Saturday, my four nephews decided to throw me a surprise birthday party, which was - without a doubt - the cutest thing EVER. I think it was the first time they've ever tried to throw a surprise party... When they came to pick me up at the train station after my one hour and seven minute ride on Metro North, I get in the car to a resounding chorus of children yelling "AUNT BETH! AUNT BETH! AUNT BETH!" at the top of their lungs. And their excitement and painful effort to contain the surprise was evident when the four year old excitedly said "Aunt Beth! Guess what! We.. um... we DON'T have a cake!" (This is how four-year-olds keep secrets.) Then, it was even more evident when the 5 year old told me: "You can't go into the basement! Well, you can go in the basement, but you can't go into papa's workshop! But if you want to play darts [the dart board is in the basement] then you can't look at papa's work bench! Because... [at this point the whole car breaks into a rousing chorus of "SSSSSHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"]... uh... because it's clean and we don't want you to see how clean it is!" (It's immediately apparent to me that the basement - and more specifically, papa's workbench, is where the surprise gifts are... the ones that I'm not supposed to know about. Of course, I play along nicely with others...)
Then we had pizza, and my nephews blindfolded me while they brought out the cake (my sister made a TO DIE FOR chocolate cake (*YUM*) complete with the numbers "34" on it (I don't know why she did that... since I told her that I'm only 23.)) and the gifts...which included an edge-only brownie pan, a Costco-sized box of Ghirardelli brownie mix and - and here's the best part - several hand-picked gifts from my nephews. My sister apparently let the boys loose in Wal-Mart and told them that they could pick out gifts for me. How amazingly fabulous is that? I love it!
My eldest nephew (after being deterred from his first choice in the Housewares section) chose a gorgeous blue necklace that matches a sweater that I have perfectly. (Is he destined to be a fashion designer? Who knows... perhaps he's destined to be a psychic, because my bathroom faucet broke the day after my birthday party, and *he* was the one who wanted to go to housewares... hmmm.... Oops, digressing...) Nephew number two chose a beaded barrette, and nephews 3 and 4 chose "sparkly hair bands" that got me some rave reviews in karate last night (by cute boys, by the way... oops, digressing again).
Now if THAT is not a perfect surprise birthday party, I don't know what is! These guys rock my world, I have to say.
The day after this fabulous trip to the country, I finally decided on a gift to give to myself. I know it's a splurge, but after the last 12 years of promises and looking forward to going on this very trip, I am treating myself to an African safari. Yep, that's right! Africa... because it's one place I've wanted to go, and it was supposed to be my 5th anniversary trip. So guess what, life... I'm going to live it! Look out, Big 5... There's a 6-foot blond chic from the Big Apple heading your way for a month-long tour of South Africa, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Namibia, and Zimbabwe. I leave in June... and I'm counting down the days! (and for my NBC friends - how is THAT for burying the lead?)
Now THAT balances out a slew of "invisible days" in every possible way.... Yes, 33 has taught me a lot of lessons that I hoped I'd never have to learn about betrayal, lies and deception. But it's also taught me about some other things that I feel I've taken for granted in my life.
I have a new and overwhelming sense of gratitude for my wonderful family (who throw the best surprise parties ever), me incredible friends who will tell me that they love me any time and show me the perfect examples of compassion whenever I have doubts about the integrity of this world, and my newly found sense of spiritual peace and adrenaline that will propel me past my fears and into my next adventure, whether it be in the throws of the African outback, or the far more dangerous world of New York City dating.
So that's the lesson here, I guess. 33 was rough. But because of the love that I have suddenly had to rely upon to make it through the last year of my life, I'm planning on 34 being an incredible ride... and my friends, you are welcome to take the journey with me. I couldn't have done it without you.
23 December 2006
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