Grandpa Howard and the Meaning of Family

He leaned toward the center of the table with smiling blue eyes and said "You know you're not really my granddaughter, right?"

We were in the church basement for potluck and I paused eating my Jello salad.

"Yes." I said.

He continued, "We have different last names but no one pays attention to it and it doesn't matter."

My grandpa smiled and I returned my attention to the Jello Salad.  It had mini-marshmallows and Cool Whip; it was the highlight of potluck. As a smallish girl of 5 or 6 years old, mini-marshmallows took the sting out of getting up early and going to church.

Grandpa Howard was my grandpa by marriage.  My grandma's first husband, my dad's biological father, died in a hunting accident when my dad was around 4 years old.  Grandma Lois was alone with two young children.  She also had epilepsy with frequent seizures.  I don't know how she carried on.

Grandma wasn't alone for long, though.  About year after her first husband passed away, she married Grandpa Howard.  Grandpa said that when he was courting my grandma "she was as shy as a bunny rabbit." He brought her a bouquet of carrots.

Her response to any of his stories, including this one, was to declare "Oh, HowARD!" and wave her hand at him, as if she was trying to shoo him away like a fly.

Now that I think about it, when my husband says something outrageous, I say "Oh, honEY!" and wave my hand at him as I were trying to shoo him away like a fly.

Grandpa was strict when he was raising my dad and his older sister but he wasn't with me or my brother.

He let us tag along when he was picking rocks out of the fields before planting.  The fields in Northern Minnesota always have rocks that need to be picked before planting.

Grandpa & my brother on the tractor in 1983

Grandpa had an old Ford tractor and a trailer he made from scraps.

When we got a full load and emptied it, we would go home and have ice cream and mince meat.

Mince meat, in case you didn't know if pulverized meat of some sort, usually venison or beef or both, mixed with ground up candied fruit.

Gross.  I can't believe we ate that.

But Grandpa liked it, so we did too.

Sometimes my grandma would have a freshly baked cake and we would go pick strawberries so that we could have strawberries and ice cream with the cake.

Me, walking by the clothes line at my
grandparent's home.  1991 or so.

There was a strawberry patch growing next to their little house.  Their house was originally intended to be a wood shed and chicken coop.  The Great Depression hit before Grandpa's family could build the house they planned, so they turned the wood shed/chicken coop into a house.  My grandpa lived there his entire life.

Grandpa also had a big garden and he didn't get mad if we ate the snap peas.  My brother and I would help take care of the garden as well.

He taught me the value of hard work.

And the importance of rewarding yourself for hard work.

He taught me the importance of having a garden.

And the importance of sharing the harvest.

He taught me the importance of family.

And the importance of knowing that family is not just blood, it is who you choose to love.

Tardigrade and Resilience

Photo from www.bbc.com 
http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20150313-the-toughest-animals-on-earth

The tardigrade, or water bear, is a microscopic animal.  It is water dwelling, eight-legged and segmented.

They are my second favorite animal.

Giraffe at the Oregon Zoo
photo by S. Clark 

Giraffes are my first favorite animal and they are unlikely to ever be removed from their first place position.

They came to me in a dream during a very stressful period of my life. The feeling in the dream was peace and contentment, which is something I definitely didn't have at the time.

I vowed to find that peace and contentment in my real life and used Giraffes as visual reminders of that goal. I now have giraffe stuffed animals, pictures, blankets, figurines and assorted ephemera.  I even have a 5 foot tall stuff giraffe that hangs out in my living room, next to the chinchilla cage.    

But tardigrade just bumped Okapi's from second place.  Okapi's are giraffes' only living relative. They look like a horse zebra hybrid with velvety ears and a long tongue.  I think they are much cuter than a tardigrade.

Photo from https://www.africananimalday.org/animals/okapi

But...

Tardigrade are such survivors!

They can survive in space, on their own.  Scientists sent a bunch of them into space, sans little space suits and many of them came back alive.  Some of the females even laid eggs, which hatched and resulted in healthy babies. Did I mention this happened in outer space with no oxygen or anything that is supposed to support life?

They can live through temperatures ranging from −458 °F (close to absolute zero) to about 300 °F.   

If a tardigrade finds itself in an environment without water, it sorta dehydrates and it waits until better conditions return.  Or sometimes the wind blows the dried up little husk to a better environment.

Then it re-hydrates.

They exemplify resilience.  

Their capacity for recovery is unparalleled.  

Interestingly, recent research suggests that this is because they have absorbed DNA from other species.  I didn't know this was actually possible but evidently even humans have some DNA that have been absorbed from bacteria or viruses.  

Science is weird.

Tardigrades are my second favorite animal because of this amazing resiliency. Tardigrades now serve as a reminder that I can be resilient.  

I've been thinking about resilience a lot lately.

My husband was just diagnosed with Lyme Disease.

My daughter might have Lyme Disease.  We won't know for a couple more weeks when the test results come back.

We are going to need to be resilient AF.

For those of you not in the know, "AF" stands for "as f*ck."  AF is something the hip, young people on the internet use.

I'm not hip or young but AF seems appropriate.

This illness creates limitations and we cannot possibly carry on with our usual lives.

I wish I could just absorb some DNA that would up my resiliency but as a human I have to make an effort.

So, we are going to have to identify what factors we can control, those we can't and use our resources accordingly.

We are going to take tardigrade as our mascot and survive the extremes that life hands us.

Because that mofo is resilient AF.

Moving Forward

Remember my badger dog, Bella, who obsessively licks our other dog or parts of herself or parts of the furniture?

Remember how I said that my house had enough intensity with me in it, although I didn't obsessively lick things?

Yes?

What I didn't mention is what I am actually obsessed with.

I'm currently obsessed with reading trail books, as I mentioned in the post called Trail Magic.  Trail books are memoirs of people who have completed thru hikes, which are long distance hikes on trails that are around 2,000 miles long.

My total is nearing 20.

Most of which I read this summer.

Kindle Unlimited can be a beautiful thing.  Or a dangerous thing.  Either way, really.

I'm not 100% sure what the draw is but I'm guessing it is because I find little gems like this:

"The simple act of moving forward,

 not matter what the pace, 

was enough to set me smiling."

If Trees Could Talk by Woody Woodill

He, of course, was referring to moving forward on a trail.  More specifically, he was referring to moving forward after having encountered a very trying day.  

Trying days on the trail involve things such as not finding water, getting caught in a hail storm, nearly falling down a cliff or running out of food.

None of those are likely happenings in my daily life.

Well, except for the cliff.

I actually have an 80 foot cliff in my backyard, believe it or not.  We live in a hilly area and they put houses in the strangest places.

We have a fence, though, so I'd have to be doing something really stupid to fall off the cliff.  

Trying days off the trail are more likely to include a dog vomiting on the newly shampooed carpet, not having enough time to finish all my paperwork and phone calls or not enough time to get all the school shopping done. 

Or this week, I've been juggling a client in crisis, a friend's crisis, moving all my old files into storage, re-arranging my office to make room for another therapist, getting the back to school shopping done, and buying new furniture for my office all while trying to minimize time on my feet to limit pain caused by Lyme disease.

And, let me just say, trying to find pants that fit my 9 year old daughter seems like it should be an easy task but it is not!    

By the way, I get that these are good problems to have.  Not so much the people in crisis problem but the other things.  I'm lucky that these are the kinds of things that are trying.  

He wasn't speaking to any of those every day hassles.  

Nonetheless, that phrase really buoyed me this week. 

At any given moment, all I had to was go forward. 

Not sure what to do? 

Just pick something and do it.

So, I went to buy pants.

Or I composed a text to give comfort for a crisis.

Or I sorted through things and bagged up what I no longer needed.  

When things really got tough, I pulled out some paint brushes, turned on loud music and got out of my head for a little bit.

Moving forward.

All you gotta do is pick something and do it.

The details sort out as you go along, be it getting out of a hail storm or dealing with a crisis.

Life gives us many trying days.

We only need to keep putting one foot in front of the other and follow the trail.

Even when the destination is unknown.  

  

Badger Dog

I was minding my own business, soaking in the tub with a good book when my husband walked in to the bathroom.

Him:  "Gbeflkdgoh fegledabadf dying."

Me: "What?"

The fan was on and it was hard to hear him.

Him:  "I think Kona is dying."

Me:  "What?! Why?"

Kona Bear

I'm feeling alarmed. It is not everyday that my husband announces one of our animals is dying.

Him: "She is not eating."

Now I am really feeling concerned.  Kona is an eating machine.  She is a 120 pound St. Bernard and in the 3 1/2 years that we've had her she has never, not one time been not hungry.

She ate an entire roasted chicken once and it did not disrupt her digestion in the least.  She ate an entire roast in one gulp.  Appetite entirely intact.  She eats garbage and rarely has a problem.

Occasionally she will eat something that disagrees with her but she barfs it out and carries on merrily waiting for the next opportunity to counter surf or dumpster dive.

Lack of appetite is a concern.

Me:  "She did get in the garbage yesterday but that doesn't usually bother her."

Him: "I dunno.  I'll go look at her."

A few minutes passed and my husband returned.

Him:  "Never mind.  Bella is the reason why she is not eating."

Me: "Oh."

Bella is our 20 pound Dachshund mix.

Bella Bean

In case you didn't know Dachshund means "Badger Dog" in German.  They were bred to hunt down and kill badgers.

We're pretty short of badgers around these parts so Bella makes do with other activities such as chasing Kona away from her food dish, barking maniacally at the squirrels or leaves or birds, and attempting to kill herself by dashing into the road.

For relaxation she obsessively licks Kona's ears and eyes. If I am so cruel as to stop her from doing that, she then obsessively licks her paws or her butt or the upholstery or my comforter.

She's really intense.

I don't know what I was thinking.  I'm a mixed breed of German descent myself and that is really enough intensity for one house.

I don't obsessively lick things but I definitely have strong ideas about how things should work.  We frequently disagree.

I, for instance, think it is a stunningly poor idea to run into the road.  She would make this her primary hobby if we let her.  I've managed to convince her that when I tell her to sit and stay that running out the door is not the thing to do but, if the door is opened and she hasn't been issued prior instructions, out she goes!

For added fun, Kona has recently figured out that if she bonks the screen door with her nose with enough force she can open it.

Kona has a blood feud with the next door neighbor's dogs, so she immediately runs over to the fence to start hurling obscenities.  Her co-conspirator immediately runs into the road.

The humans channel Usain Bolt and sprint up the driveway into the road.  I've never been able to catch Bella easily.  I pretty much have to run her down and corner her.

My husband discovered that if he acts like the guy in Jurassic Park does when he is confronting the pack of velociraptors, Bella will roll onto her back.

I don't know what that's about.

There's never a dull moment around here.

I've got to go though, Bella is pawing at my arm and whining urgently.  There is something highly distressing to her that I must address immediately.  

The Struggle Before the Flight

from http://bohemianwornest.tumblr.com/search/butterfly

Imagine a chrysalis, you know, the cocoon thing that butterflies come out of?  

You're in a garden and you notice that one is is partly open and you see a butterfly struggling to get out. 

You watch for a while and it seems to be making very little progress.  

You are worried about the little guy, what if it never makes it out?  

What if it dies?  

So, you carefully peel back the chrysalis and the butterfly is finally free.  You expect now it will fly away.  

You leave, happily assuming that you have helped nature along a little bit.

Unfortunately, you haven't.  

Instead, you have eliminated an experience that the butterfly needs in order to be whole and functional.  The butterfly's struggle is a necessary part of its development.  Without fighting its way out of the chrysalis, it loses its opportunity to gain the strength necessary to fly.

So it is with people.  

It is not uncommon for me to meet with a new client who is seeking treatment because they are experiencing high levels of stress or anxiety or depression.

Further investigation reveals that this person, most often a women, but sometimes a man, are stressed, overwhelmed and in a chronic state of panic because they are constantly bailing someone, or several someones, out of trouble. 

Not the kind of trouble that happens because life is hard and stuff happens.  

The kind of trouble that happens when someone is constantly making bad choices.  The kind of trouble that happens with a drug, alcohol or gambling habit.  Or the kind of trouble that comes from being consistently irresponsible. 

Consequently, the helper is overwhelmed and their emotional, physical and financial resources are depleted. What little they do have gets quickly used up by those they are helping.  The help they provide others means they have few resources to help themselves.  

Why? Why would someone consistently bail their loved one out of such irresponsible behavior over and over again?  Especially as such a cost to themselves?  

Codependency.  

Codependency is a state of being or a set of behaviors found in the partner or family members of people with addiction, mental illness or other extremely dysfunctional behaviors.  

Wikipedia actually has a good definition:

"Codependent relationships are a type of dysfunctional helping relationship where one person supports or enables another person's addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, or under-achievement. Among the core characteristics of codependency, the most common theme is an excessive reliance on other people for approval and identity."

A codependent person will, time and time again, bail their loved one out of dealing with the consequences of his or her choices.  They do this because they are caring people who want the best for their loved one.  They genuinely don't want their family member to suffer.

BUT...a codependent person also does it because they are anxious. 

The thought of their child or sibling or whoever out on the streets or hungry creates so much anxiety that they fix the situation.  

I get that.  

There is very little that is more distressing than having a loved one suffer. It is harder than our own, personal suffering.  

Despite the anxiety inherent in not fixing the situation, it is important for the growth of the other individual to not be bailed out.  They need the opportunity to grow.  

Yes, opportunity to grow.  

I realize that this might be counter-intuitive but there is a segment of the population that won't learn to make good decisions until they have had to suffer the consequences of the bad decisions.

Now, I am not talking about turning away your daughter who got laid off after 5 years of employment.  Nor am I saying that you shouldn't buy groceries for the struggling single parent who is really doing the best they can.  

What I am saying is that if there is someone who consistently makes poor decisions, you are not doing them any favors by fixing the situation. Because they never face the consequences of their choices, they continue down the same path protected from learning that those choices cause problems.  

If you are working harder than the person you are "helping" it is not actually help at all.

Like helping the butterfly, codependency appears as help but removes the opportunity others need to learn and grow.  

Give your loved ones an opportunity to grow.  It is worth it in the long run.  

Acupuncture and the Church of Hopeful Uncertainty

I had to loop around the block a couple times until I could find a parking space close enough to Amy's office. Her office is in a little house perched on the side of a little hill with a little street running in front of it.

Being on my feet for more than an hour per day is still a problem, so I needed to park close by.

I was greeted by the smell of herbs when I walked into the door.  The waiting room had plants, paintings and a little settee that I sat on while waiting for the acupuncturist.

I had hoped that as treatment for the Lyme Disease progressed, that my pain would decrease.  However, that hasn't been the case and I needed to pursue other options.  

My options included acupuncture, prescription narcotics or medical marijuana.

Little wonder why I decided to go with acupuncture.

Acupuncture isn't quite mainstream but it doesn't seem like most people lump it with voodoo either.

At this point, I'm willing to try just about anything, which is interesting because I am actually a strong proponent of the scientific method.  When possible, I like to base my decisions on science.

For example, after decades of research, we know that a person with diet high in processed foods is more likely to have negative health consequences.  We also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that cigarette smoke, either 1st hand or 2nd, causes cancer.  I've made decisions about how I treat my body accordingly.

The problem is that science is slow and I think there are types of knowledge and information that can't be accessed by science.  At least not right now.

Enter the Church of Hopeful Uncertainty.  I'd love to claim credit for this because it sums up my belief system so accurately, but I can't.  It is an idea I read about in "Why I am an Atheist Who Believes in GOD: How to Give Love, Create Beauty and Find Peace," by Frank Schaeffer.  Frank Schaeffer is a drop out of the Evangelical Christian movement, where, evidently, he was kind of a big deal. 

I don't know because that is not the crowd I roll with.  I just thought the title was interesting. 

Members of The Church of Hopeful Uncertainty hope that there is something greater than humans, this earth and our limited knowledge.  But we don't know for certain and we are not going to stake any claims.  We are not going to try to convince anyone that our hopes are correct and true.  And we most definitely are not going to condemn those who don't agree.  

My version of The Church of Hopeful Uncertainty also embraces alternative healing methods, like acupuncture.  As far as I am aware, science hasn't worked out why acupuncture or other aspects of Chinese medicine are effective.  But no matter, there are multiple paths to knowledge and science is only one of them. 

Science is my favorite path to knowledge but so far, modern medical science's offerings for pain management have too many drawbacks.  At least, pain management by prescription narcotics. 

I also belong to a group called The Fellowship of Pragmatics.  I want results and I am not going to cling to a certain treatment regimen because I adhere to a particular theory. If it works, I don't mind if I don't know why it works.  

So, I take my hopeful uncertainty and pragmatism to an acupuncturist named Amy.  

I Said Yes: An Ode to Daughters and Friendship

It is last Saturday and I am reluctantly sitting down to work on a sewing project I promised my daughter I would do a while back.

Actually, more than a while.  We bought the pattern, material and notions to make her a cat costume last summer.

Getting started with my husband's
grandmother's sewing basket

As I sat down with the pattern, I immediately had flashbacks of me as an 8th grader.  The 8th grader version of myself was tantruming in home ec room as I tried to untangle the mass of thread in my sewing machine for the 500th time.

Not only did I find it impossible to use the sewing machine, my burgeoning feminist sensibilities were insulted by the fact that I had to take home ec and auto mechanics was not even an option.  I wasn't especially interested in auto mechanics either, but it was the principle of the matter!

My best friend, Lisa, was always seated at a machine close to mine. This was primarily for my benefit as she would occasionally sneak over and bail me out.

Unlike me, Lisa was naturally skilled in the domestic arts.  She could actually use a sewing machine and made edible food.  I had a bad habit of doing things like accidentally putting in 1 TABLESPOON of salt in the recipe when it called for 1 TEASPOON.

At this point we had been friends for about a year.  In 7th grade she was the "new girl."  I thought she would likely end up in the "popular" clique because she had cute clothes and knew how to ski.

She didn't seem to like those girls though.  She asked to hang out with me.  I said yes.

And the rest is history.  We are still friends 27 years later. Collectively Lisa and I have experienced three husbands, one divorce, three children, three college degrees, a ghastly amount in student loans, twenty or more moves, several thousand panic attacks, much laughter and some tears.

Most of this is done via the internet, phone calls and text because we haven't lived near each other since 1995.

I texted Lisa as soon as I started working on my daughter's project. I thought she might be amused to know that I was sewing.

As an adult Lisa can do things like make borscht, or chicken kiev, crochet baby clothes and cross stitch. I don't even know what chicken kiev is!

After all these years of friendship, I knew she would appreciate the sacrifice I was making as a parent.

Lisa promptly asked if she should put 911 on speed dial.

As she should, because I really don't know what I am doing!

My daughter talked me into it.

The first piece of fabric I cut.

As the adult in this relationship, I have the option to say no but in my defense, she is a very persuasive speaker.

She is persuasive enough to convince me to sew a costume when I can barely operate a sewing machine and I have sewn nothing more complicated than a pillow.

I said yes.

The only reason I have a sewing machine is because I mentioned to my husband several years ago that I wanted to learn to sew someday and he promptly went out and got me a machine.

I've made some lovely pillows since then.

This is certainly going to be a learning experience.

But, I said yes to my daughter, so this will be an opportunity to work on a project with her and learn something in the process.

Because saying yes has brought good things into my life.