Zen


Teachers are allotted only a window of time with their students.  Once the student has exhausted this learning period; the teacher’s responsibility ends and the student must go on.  The student must accept this ending and may only bow in respect to the teacher, for the opportunity to learn has now passed.  It is now the student’s time; not to mourn the absence of the teacher, but to continue the quest for knowledge.

 

 

Only with a closed mouth and open mind will a student see the multitude of offer for infinite challenge and opportunity on the road to enlightenment.  Any valid word from a student to a teacher shall be but a question posed when the time is offered for such.  Fussing over disagreement or materialism will only slow the journey, and our time is short.

 

 

The most important rule is recognition that you are but a student.  Worry not.  Close your mouth.  Open your mind.  Work diligently.  Be peaceful.  For all the while in being a disciplined student, you’ve become a teacher.

 

 

~padinkydink



Serenity


I found myself tossing and turning at 3am.  Part of me thinks it was because I went to bed at a decent hour and my body rejects a good night’s sleep.  The rest of me knows it is because there are too many thoughts swirling around in my melon.  So I am here.  I was raging against the very machine that I should be fueling.  When the urge to write hits me, I need to go with it.  This shit would be way more convenient if I was being paid to do it, but alas!  I am still here.

 

Before my mother in law Mama Judy died I had the privilege to have a 2 hour phone conversation with her, which I recorded.  I called her from our home phone, then put her on speaker and recorded us with my cell phone.  I still have it.  I have only listened to it once.  She was aware it was being recorded, because she knew her cancer was terminal and I asked her if I could write her memoir.  It was our intent to have these conversations every week and touch on subjects leading up to the day our lives intersected and forward.   I wanted a piece of her to pass along to my kids and hers, and theirs when they have them.  Unfortunately for us, my busy life and her illness progression got in the way and our first recorded conversation we recorded turned out to be the only one we would ever have.  I’ve listened to it only once.  Two days after she passed away I was home alone missing her, and I listened to it in its entirety.  I didn’t realize how much I miss her until yesterday.  It was then that I found that I can’t even talk about her to strangers without losing my composure.

 

On the day I was listening to our conversation I heard the doorbell ring, so I had to pause the playback.  I opened the door to find our postal carrier holding a piece of registered mail that required my signature.  The letter was a long-anticipated update regarding a very long, drawn-out modification involving a custody/child support modification from my first marriage.  I was ecstatic to open the letter, I rushed inside and tore it open…quickly I realized it was just the news I had hoped for, and I was elated!  I ran back to my bed where I had just been sitting before the doorbell rang and grabbed the very phone I had just paused and held it to my ear and said “Mama!  Guess what!!”…and then it hit me.  Then I cried.  A lot.  That was nearly 3 months ago and I truly thought I had been handling my grief well, if you consider ignoring it handling it.  Two days ago I was speaking to a person in the child support modification unit regarding the letter.  I had called to check the status of the case, and she said the case was being held up because they had never received the paper I signed showing that I had received the letter.  She asked me if I remembered the day I received it…well of course I remember.  I told her I knew the exact date and when I recounted the event to her I heard my voice start to quiver.  I cleared my throat and apologized, I think I made her cry too.

 

April 29th would have been Mama’s 54th birthday.  I still want to call her just to say hi.  I want to send her pictures of the kids, I tagged her in some today on Facebook.  I have accepted that she is gone, but I guess I still can’t believe it.  When I was looking through my boxes of papers recently I found several birthday cards from her.  Her penmanship looked like calligraphy.  She never missed an occasion to send a card.   She sent centerpieces for holiday meals where she couldn’t attend.  Once I had forced my way into her life, she considered me her daughter; not her daughter-in-law or some chick her step-son was married to.  She considered me her daughter.  She loved my children as if they were her biological grandchildren, and none of them are.  The most important thing about my love for James and his family is that they understand that I am not just me.  When he married me, he married 3 people.  It’s not always an easy thing to marry into an ‘instant-oatmeal’ family as my cousin Ray calls it.  Most of the time there is a difficult transition for the ‘outsider’ to come in and sometimes they never really ‘fit’ in.  It’s a risky business at times.  But not for us.  James found me and my kids and couldn’t wait to sign on.  I have never felt a moment of awkwardness and neither have they.  His dad (Papa James) was the same way; when he married Judy she also had 2 kids.  He loved Kurt and Tiffany like they were biologically his and took on the role of their dad and raised them alongside his own children.  I am thankful for many things, but most thankful that James learned this wonderful trait from his dad.

 

Until Papa James and Judy died, I didn’t believe I had ever had the bittersweet luxury of the time to prepare, as if that’s really possible.  Each of them knew they had cancer.  They each knew they were going to die, so they said all the things they needed to say before they passed on.  In hindsight, I guess we all know we are going to die.  We each have every day of our lives while we are here to say all the things we need to say, but too often it takes a tragedy to awaken that part of us.  I’ve always been a passionate person.  I’ve had the unfortunate experience of losing many people I’ve loved dearly, and as a result of that I know that when you have something to say, you should say it.  It requires strength, courage, and sometimes embarrassment because people sometimes tend to think you are a weirdo, but I do it anyway.  My main goal in this life is to be good.  I am not always good at it, but I try nonetheless.  In order to become enlightened one must absorb all facets of their surroundings and truly be alive and aware inside each moment.  Stop for a second.  Really think about that.  Today, appreciate beauty in all things.  Listen when people talk.  I mean REALLY listen.  Don’t just nod your head and wait for your turn to speak.  Find comfort.  Find peace.  When you do all these things then you can share all these things.  I feel love and happiness in my life.  I am blessed with memories of those who have transcended to a different place, and comfort in knowing I am loved by my husband and children and many family and friends.  I am still here.  I am putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward every day.  Sometimes the days go by so quickly and others seem to creep by, but inside of each moment I try to find peace and serenity.  It isn’t always easy, but that’s how life is.

 

I know today will be a good day.  If my heart were a magic 8-ball and I asked it if today would be good…it would say ‘It is decidedly so.’

 

~P

 

 

 

 

 

 



Meds.


I got a tetanus/pertussis shot in the arm today. It hurts like a mother bitcher. I guess going on a field trip with 60 fourth graders to Missouri’s First Capitol wasn’t exciting enough, so I needed to go have a nurse jab a needle into my arm bone deep. Actually, I needed to go to the doctor for a checkup because I take a medication that requires them to see me in person every 6 months or so…no it’s not valtrex or a psychotropic. I have ADHD. I do still find it to be embarrassing to talk about it, but it is what it is and I am working it out.

I discovered I had ADHD after I discovered my son had it. I have watched my son struggle through schoolwork and homework for years. Watching him struggle has brought back my own horrible childhood memories of sitting at the dining room table after school trying to focus on my OWN schoolwork when I was a kid. I vividly remember wishing I had a white hot poker to stick through my skull because it seemed to me THAT would feel better than sitting still trying to focus on doing long division. When I was in 4th grade, I didn’t do my homework, and back in 1984 it was legal for my school principal to administer corporal punishment for that offense. Crazy huh? I was all of 45 pounds then, the size of your average kindergartner, unable to focus on completing assignments, and my school principal was authorized to hit me on the ass with a wooden paddle for it. WHAT A LOAD OF SHIT!!! Talk about embarrassment. I was the only girl I knew who ever got swats. I was a gifted child, but everyone told me I was lazy and never “lived up to my potential.” All along I could have been doing so much more…

Thankfully, nowadays they harness all the energy of cocaine and put it into a small capsule and it virtually cures ADHD. Funny thing is; when you have ADHD, you don’t react the same to ‘speed’ as you do if you are “normal.” For instance, if you don’t have ADHD and you take one of my pills, you will be balls to the wall RAILING like a crack head all day. But this medicine actually lowers my heart rate. Before I started taking this medicine I could best be described at work as a “clock watcher.” Now that I take the daily medicine I get pissed off when 5:00 rolls around because I want to stay at my desk and get shit done. A lot of adults suffer from ADHD and go untreated, but I strongly urge everyone I know who feels like they may have it to go online to any search engine and type in “I think I have ADHD” and take any quiz you come across. Who knows? Maybe you can save yourself from constant frustration like I have.

I have wanted to be a writer my entire life. Now that I have meds for ADHD, I am finally starting to write. I am not necessarily saying I want to be an inspiration to anyone, but if I am able to help anyone at all, then that person will owe me BIG TIME and I can hold that over their head forever and ever. And that is how I roll.

PS I started this blog to talk about how much of a vajayjay I am because my arm is hurting very badly, but I ended up on a completely separate issue. What more proof do you need that I have ADHD and am completely out of meds?