Category: A Moment in My Life

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, August 11, 2020

As I walked along, eating my cereal deep in thought, I reminisced the days when Mark and I would walk together side-by-side both in our little worlds. It was a fulfilling moment to be with someone you were comfortable with without the need for words. Companionship like that is worth more than gold. I miss those days terribly. I long for those days again but with the tall order of being, not with anyone, but with him. I can dream, hope, wish, or demand, but that’s never going to happen. The only thing that could happen is for me to reminisce those savored moments.

All I have are memories of us being together. Just being together in the simplest form like sitting next to each other on the couch doing our own thing, him watching some program that I have absolutely no interest in, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed sitting near him to be with him. The car rides were so much more enjoyable with him riding along. We bantered about little things, brainstormed about what we wanted to eat, where we wanted to go, or sat in our thoughts enjoying the scenery. It didn’t matter what the activity was. The joy was just being together.

With SiP, I know we wouldn’t be the couple who would complain about being stuck in the same house with the same person day in and day out and night after night. No sir. Not us. Bring it on. We welcome being stuck in the same house together 24/7. If nothing else, we would have loved the opportunity just to be together even more.

People used to ask us how we managed to survive, not working, and living in a studio condo together every day, and we looked at each other and shrugged. We honestly never thought about that. It seemed like a natural thing to do when you are a couple. We respected each other and gave each other the space to be and do as we each pleased. It was great because we were able to do our own thing in the comfort of our own home, and when we finished, we would regroup and hang out together. No argument there.

You know what else I miss? I miss doing the housework together with him. We had the routine down. He did the vacuuming and dusting and the toilets. I did the organizing, tidying up, and the sinks and tubs. He did the mowing, trimming, and TLC tasks for the garden and I raked and swept. We worked alongside each other, just being together, and it was the most natural thing to do.

We had a good thing going. Sadly, it didn’t last long. I’m glad that we have so many beautiful memories to cherish. Many people I know, who are still together, sing a different tune. It saddens me that here I long for what I had while they don’t appreciate what they still have. 

I would give anything just being together with Mark again!

A Moment in My Life – Monday, August 10, 2020

I started my day with a case of the blahs—brought on by what? I have no idea. I slept well. It was Saturday, so I allowed myself to sleep in an hour. Okay, so if you think about it, it wasn’t really sleeping in since I went to bed a couple of hours later than I should’ve and would’ve if it were a school night. I felt well-rested when the alarm woke me at 7:00. I got up and got myself together, got my coffee, and just as I approached my desk, I felt it—the wave of something in my subconscious going nuts inside my mind. I stopped in my tracks, surveying my desk and surroundings. I concentrated, observing the cause that was like a puppy racing, from spot to spot inside my head, sniffing around, looking for something, but what? What was it telling me? What was causing the void? I don’t know. I had no idea what triggered it or what it was, but there it was, lingering, telling me something wasn’t right for me. You know what? I hate it when that happens. I dislike obscurity, especially when it comes to something troubling me.

I missed those days when I had Mark here to be my sounding board. He was always so comforting. Even if he wasn’t able to solve my problems, he patiently listened to me and offered possibilities that added value to my plight. That’s neither here nor there now.

I went to bed feeling happy and content and woke up with the blahs. About a year ago, I went to bed feeling happy and content but woke up the next day with a heart attack. Compared to that, I gladly take the blahs. What gives, though? I thought of the conversation I had with my friend on the phone the day before. She was feeling Covid-19 anxiety. As we talked, I told her that I’ve been fortunate that I haven’t experienced it, and I doubt that I would. Then, I woke up feeling the blahs. I call it the blahs for lack of a better description. I wonder if it was our chat that brought the blahs on.

As the morning drifted away, I was no closer to identifying the problem or the source. I hoped that some revelation would surface so that I would know what caused it, then I could fix the problem. When I realized that that wasn’t going to happen, I gave up letting it control my day. The only thing that I could think of to do was to reframe my mind. That’s when I decided that I needed to do something to change my course onto something more productive. 

I’ve intended to address the piles of stuff that I had for the Salvation Army. I googled and learned they were now opened seven days a week. Excellent! I couldn’t tell if the donation truck was open, though. I called them, and yes, they were opened. That got me excited and energized, and off to the garage to pack up everything ready for drop off.

Before I could run my errand, a friend texted me and alerted me to a mutual friend’s virtual wedding that was happening in an hour. I almost missed it! It was a beautiful wedding. I was thrilled that I didn’t miss it.

Long story short, the day may have started off looking glum, but once I reframed my attitude towards it, I was able to turn my day into a pleasant and productive one. Once I began down the new course, whatever was troubling me was replaced with good thoughts from a day well spent.

A Moment in My Life – Friday, August 7, 2020

Yesterday, I mentioned that when I discovered I was a writer in a family of talkers, I felt more alienated from my family than I already did. I know all families have a black sheep or two in their makeup—the one who doesn’t fit in with everybody else. That was me. It was, by no means, a poor reflection on my family. It merely meant that I was different from them. I didn’t respond to things the same way they did. My preferences differed from theirs. To top it off, it didn’t help that I was a hypersensitive person but didn’t know it until recent years. That’s a long time to live with a hard-to-deal-with trait without knowing you have it or how to live with it.

 My family is known for its friendliness and social eloquence. Whereas I was the social klutz who couldn’t remember the relatives’ titles, and the list is long, if my life depended on it. I miss my mother in that respect because she used to feed me the title as the relative approached so that I could properly address him or her, saving their face as well as my mother’s and mine. Saving face is crucial in Chinese culture. 

I didn’t like the same things that my family did. For example, from something as small as dough balls to a big deal like cilantro. My family all mmm their way through a bowl of broth with the big plain mushy white dough balls while I gag on them and dreaded when that was on the menu. A dish smothered with cilantro wouldn’t last long on our dinner table with no help from me. I cringe at the mention of the word. I remember sampling an apple sausage and grimaced as I tasted the cilantro in it. Mark couldn’t taste it at all, but when we inspected the list of ingredients, there it was—cilantro—listed way at the bottom, second from the last ingredient.

 Growing up, any form of talking was uncomfortable for me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I had a case of glossophobia, but I didn’t know that word as a kid. Come to think of it; I didn’t know this word until I just Googled it. Speaking was not an easy task for me, period. I envied my older sister, who got that gene. I remember losing my voice before every speaking event, from as simple as reading a book report to speaking in front of a small group of women at a retreat. We’re not even talking about a large event. 

Over the years, I’ve gotten better at verbal communication. I’ve run meetings. I’ve done presentations at work, and I’ve spoken in a few different small group capacities. You might say that I’ve come out of my shell. I remember years where I used to attend some group events and left without having contributed a single word. I’m not proud of that. If anything, I was embarrassed I didn’t do my part and share something, anything at all, with the group. What can you do, though? Even if you didn’t know what it was or that you had it, phobias were debilitating in any form.

As I got older, I realized my fondness for one-on-one dates with people where the meaningful and deep conversation happened. I love getting to know people better, and talking was the means to that end. Come to think of, I’ve become quite a chatty-Cathy, as often, the event is closing the doors, and I’m still standing there chatting away with someone. Now, in my small group, I’m known for having something to say. One night, when a question was met in silence, the facilitator pointed to me and said, “What about you, Jeannie, you always have something to share?” What a transformation from the days of my youth! 

If I stood side-by-side with me of my formative years, you wouldn’t know we were the same person. As I meander down the path of my life, the callus peeled off from my shell, opening up the possibilities for some beautiful traits to surface. I think each of us takes a similar path through our life where we shed off the old and put on the new. Doing that gives us a chance to bridge the gap that separated us from people. I know it did for me. 

Part of living is continually learning, growing, and changing. All necessary to help us become the complete person that God created us to be. There is a time for every season, and I’m grateful that this is the season for me to be both a talker, like my family, and a writer, and I can’t be more pleased.

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, August 6, 2020

Wiz and I were talking about music, which led to his reminiscing about the time Mark was with him at Fioli, where Wiz engaged in an in-depth, meaningful musical discussion with the pianist who was performing there that day. Wiz and I morphed along those lines, ending up sharing our perspectives on Mark’s standing by while Wiz and the pianist compared notes. Afterward, Wiz was going to apologize to Mark for having gotten carried away in discussion, excluding him. Before Wiz got to apologize, Mark commented how much he enjoyed hearing the two musicians banter back and forth about their musical experiences. 

I told Wiz that if I had been in Mark’s shoes, I would’ve run off to do my thing and leave the musicians to banter in private because in my upbringing I would’ve felt excluded and rude to be listening in on someone else’s conversation that I wasn’t invited to join. Wiz was kind to say that if I had been there, he would’ve wanted me to stay and listen.

That conversation led me to share with him about my formative years when I had no voice and felt like an outsider. Long story short, Wiz summarized our discussion perfectly when he said, “By the very definition of the word, crucible, it describes your life and your struggles to a tee!” Bingo! He’s right.

As soon as I read that comment, the song “God Only Knows” resonated in my mind, and I knew I had to write this.

God knew us before we were born. He knew the life we would have. He knew what it would take to form us into the person we need to be to fulfill that life He had planned for us. We don’t pick the parents we get or the family we end up with. He does because He always provides the tools that we would need to do the job that He destined for us.

We encounter many jobs on our way to fulfilling the destiny He planned for us. God said he would never forsake us and would never give us more than we can handle. Sometimes I tell you, I wonder about that because in my life some things that happened, I felt like it was too much to bear. You know what, though, I survived it. That tells me that even though I thought it was too much for me to take, but God knew that it wasn’t. He is a loving God and would not put me to the task if I couldn’t handle it. That’s scary if you think about it because those who know me, know the many humongous trials I’ve been through already. However, here I am, standing tall and strong, having survived them. 

We don’t know where we’re heading or what lies before us, but He knows. I’ve learned to continue trusting Him because He is a loving and merciful God with only my best interest at heart. 

Now it all makes sense to me—why I was such a shy, quiet, introverted child who ended up finding solace on the page. God was preparing me to be a writer. He quieted me and directed my thoughts to the written word. Growing up, that set me apart even further, making me feel more alienated from my family of talkers than I already did. Today, as I chatted with Wiz, I get it now. I needed to live those specific moments in my life that formed the person I am today. If not for those unique experiences that God gave me personally, I wouldn’t be set apart, and I would be a talker instead of a writer, and then my purpose would never have been revealed.

Like the song says, God only knows what I’ve been through and how I struggled and hurt through it. God only knows the loneliness I felt and how I desired to be understood and loved. He knew. He knew why I needed to walk that walk. All I have to do is trust Him along the journey He has planned for only me. He said, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” ~ Jeremiah 29:11

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“God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength but with your testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it” (1 Corinthians 10:13)

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A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, August 5, 2020

When my friend told me that Tim McGraw was in Blind Side, I argued that he wasn’t in it because I couldn’t place which character he played. Even after she pointed him out to me, I stared so long and hard, but I couldn’t see Tim McGraw in Sean Touhy. My mouth fell opened when it hit me that the actor portraying Sean Touhy was, indeed, Tim McGraw. What a fine actor he is!

Wow, what a difference hair, makeup, and clothes can do to you!

This is an excellent reminder that people, in general, are all the same. We start with the same basic package. Depending on our preferences and creativity, we transform that basic package into something uniquely ours. That’s what makes all the difference, and that means there is no such thing as an ugly duckling because we are what we make of ourselves.

For example, let’s talk about one person. That one person looks way different in sweats than in an evening gown or a tuxedo for extreme contrast. It’s the same person, mind you, but merely changing the exterior completely altered that person’s outlook.

The other day, seven months since my last haircut, I had the works done—highlights and cut, and wow, do I look different or what? I missed seeing bangs on my forehead again! I look like someone else. I think I look younger, cuter, with bangs then with a bare forehead. Without the bangs, I look more authoritative, whereas my cuter bangs look comes across as more carefree.

The old saying ‘the clothes make the man’ says it all. I use this proverb lightly because my point here is not about being judged by the clothes we wear. Rather the point I’m making here is that our choices and style can impact the way we look. By merely changing our outfit or hairstyle could transform us into someone completely different. What that tells me is that we’re not locked down to looking a certain way. The canvas is completely blank for us to create the look that we want to achieve.

Like Tim McGraw, I read that to overcome his alcohol addiction, he turned to the gym and worked out like a mad man, which transformed his body into the beautiful masterpiece that God created for him. Seeing Tim as Sean Tuohy compared to seeing Tim today confirms my point that everybody can become the person s/he wants to be.

We can be the person we want to be with a little work, creativity, and courage to take that first step. We can let us be the way we see ourselves in our minds. Everybody has different tastes; therefore, not everybody will like or approve of an individual look. Don’t let that stop you from being you. We all want to be unique. At the same time, we don’t want to be different. That’s a tough one. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks. If you don’t like the way I look, you don’t have to look like me. You go and look like you, and let me look like me because that’s all we can do.

Therefore, I close with this reminder, ‘To thine own self be true.’

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, August 4, 2020

What’s happening today? I’m glad you asked. Today is Tuesday. Garbage day.

There has been a regular occurrence on garbage day that I neither approve of nor understand. At times, I’ve mentioned my pet peeves to others, but there is a consensus that opposes my view. That’s fine. They are welcome to their opinions.

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Why is it okay for people to pick through your recycle bin and steal the bottles and the cans? I honestly want to know the answer. Is it merely a matter of the location of the bins that make it okay? Meaning, surely you wouldn’t think it’s okay for someone to come onto your property and pick through your bin and steal the bottles and cans, right? Or am I just a prude? Why is it okay to steal from your bin on the street in front of your house? 

Last time I checked, stealing is stealing. It doesn’t matter from whom or where you steal. It doesn’t seem like the garbage company cares either. Well, that’s out of my control. However, when they pick through my bin, then it is my concern. I know there are worst things to battle. Like I said earlier, this is just a pet peeve of mine. 

Understanding why people do what they do is the issue here. 

I guess another thing about garbage day that irks me is the fact that every so often someone messes with my garbage, and again, this action baffles me. Why?

A couple of weeks ago, I observed the garbage truck pouring the contents of my garbage bin into his truck. I was surprised to see only a handful of small pieces of paper that looked like coupons poured into the truck. For starters, why were there loose papers from my bin when I put in one white garbage bag securely tied at the neck? I didn’t see a garbage bag fall into the truck. Also, I had no small pieces of paper like coupons in my trash bag, to begin with, so where did they come from? And, more importantly, where did my bag go? At the bottom of my garbage bin, there was a candy wrapper. The wrapper did belong to me, but it should have been securely inside the bag. This evidence confirmed that someone tampered with my garbage.  

Then there was this one time when someone poured out my garbage into my bin and took my garbage bag. Since then, I started triple knotting my garbage bags because I figure I’m not going to make it easy for you to steal my garbage bag and make a mess of my clean bin. A friend of mine even suggested that I leave a brand new garbage bag on top of my bag of garbage, so the thief won’t have to steal my trash bag by pouring it out. Seriously? Is that honestly the best solution? That sounds like I’m aiding and abetting and telling the thief that I condone what s/he is doing. Besides, what’s to keep the thief from still pouring out my garbage, and now s/he has two bags?

No, I’m not done yet. Garbage day is not my favorite day of the week. My next-door neighbor consistently overfills his garbage bin so that the lid is usually at a 45-degree angle. He doesn’t do much with his trash except dump everything into his bin. No flattening of containers. No bagging perishables. Yada Yada. You can imagine the picnic the crows have each week. My neighbor is usually pretty generous in sharing whatever the birds discard from his bin. My neighbor doesn’t mind if his trash ends up on my property, and it regularly does. The wind is his cohort. He is completely open to letting me pick up after him. In fact, he prefers having me pick up after him as he ignores the repositioning of his trash. 

So, there you have it. What’s on my mind today. I would love to hear your take on this topic. As I said, I’m seeking understanding.