I was there..

You crashed your car... I was there. You took your first breath... I was there. You took your life...I was there. You fell off a ladder and landed on your head...I was there. Your house caught fire in the middle of the night...I was there. You were anxious and just needed someone to understand and talk you through it..I was there. You were choking...I was there. You were having a heart attack...I was there. You took your last breath... I was there. Many times over many years...you didn't know who I was...but I was there.

I saw my first dead person when I was 11 or 12. I was at Hampton Beach with a friend and her family and I watched as people pulled a lifeless man out of the ocean and began to perform CPR. I don't know if the guy survived, but at the time I saw him..he was dead. This isn't one of those inspirational moments when I knew fate was leading me down a life path. I just remember standing there, watching as people tried to bring this guy back to life.

For almost 14 years I answered the call to try to make the worst day in a stranger's life a little bit better in whatever way I could...whether it be physically or emotionally or a little bit of both. Day or night it didn't matter, when that pager went off, I went out the door even if I wasn't on call that day. Missed meals, dealing with death on holidays, sudden changes in plans, more time spent with my EMS partner than my husband some days. I can understand why some marriages just don't make it.

There are awards on the wall by my front door I received over my years: Firefighter of the year, Chief's Choice, Directors choice award and 3 EMT of the year awards. This only highlights my persistence and reliability to assist on calls. I would by no means call myself a master of my profession. Many days I think I was more lucky than good. My peers seemed to enjoy having me as a partner and I worked hard to have a good working relationship and friendship with those who chose to spend their 12 hour shifts with me as there were many options to choose from.

I couldn't explain to my Chief and the EMS director why I was suddenly done with being a Paramedic Firefighter but I knew it was time to walk away. The joy from the job was gone, I felt alone, even though I had everyone else's back, I really didn't feel I could trust anyone to have mine or be there for me. Thankfully there was a blog post my best friend found which helped put some of th thoughts into the words I was unable to find.

https://dimcmath.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/unless-youve-been-there-you-wouldnt-understand-a-paramedics-farewell-to-the-job/

There are definitely moments I will never be able to forget no matter how hard I try. I drive by houses and the memories come flooding back, good and bad. I suppose it comes with the territory.

I think it's almost worse being a has-been than a wanna-be. A wanna-be may still have some potential of gonna-be. I know it's mostly in my head, but I have felt like I was "weak" and "inferior" for not being able to stick it out. I see my old partners out and about at the grocery store with their new partners who don't know me from Adam and when I introduce myself and say I used to be a paramedic & firefighter, the look I feel I get is "oh... but you're aren't one now.. guess you couldn't hack it then huh?!?"  I want to grab them by the collar and smack the look off their face. "You'll always be one of us" isn't quite the feeling I get when these encounters occur. Again, I know it's not them... it's me.

I was stupid to think I would walk out the fire station door on that last day and not have crap to work through. Even now almost 2 years later, I still have a few things of baggage I am sorting through. Walls of defenses that were put up for protection have taken a long time to tear through. I still have anger issues, triggers, anxiety and probably a touch of PTSD. I will never be the person I was before joining the fire department, my best hope is I can learn to understand the revised version of me and continue to seek comfort and happiness in the world around me.

A friend with PTSD told me one of the ways he works through stuff is to write about it. I told him I would probably never be that brave to expose the inner workings of my brain but after a year and a half, I think I have finally gotten brave enough to put some of it into words...so here it is.

Ain't nothin but a cellarhole

Here I stood on a hill in the woods in an area once known as Rocky Nook, a few miles outside of Plymouth Massachusetts. There was a small pull-off beside the road and a large historical marker in the middle of a grassy hill placed between 2 giant trees, age unknown, but easily a few hundred years old. Over on the right hand side of this hill are old foundation stones and this cellar hole. There are many broken pieces of brick laying around the site and probably many hidden treasures from the past buried under the layers of soil.

This is hallowed ground for me as John Howland my 9th Great Grandfather, purchased this land on Feb 2 1638/9 for his homestead. He was a pilgrim on the Mayflower, a servant to John Carver, hired on to assist with the move of the congregation from Leiden to Plymouth. He is known for falling overboard during a storm during the crossing of the Mayflower and being pulled back aboard with a boat hook. Rumors of drunkenness as a cause of him falling overboard do exist. John Carver died in April of 1621 and with no relative to inherit the Carver's goods. John inherited all of the goods and bought his freedom from being a servant. He also took in everyone left in John Carver's household, servants and an 14 year old orphan Elizabeth Tilley. He was the 13th signer of the Mayflower Compact.

His marriage to Elizabeth Tilley was one of the first in the Plymouth Colony. Elizabeth's parents and Aunt & Uncle died during the first winter of 1620-1621. Elizabeth was 16 years old at the time of marriage. They had 10 children together.

John Howland was one of the 10 men chosen to explore the new land upon landing on the Cape. He also accompanied Edward Winslow to explore the Kennebec River in what is now Maine. In 1634 he was put in charge of a trading post built where present Augusta Maine is located. Howland Maine is named for him.

His son Jabez owned a house on 33 Water Street in Plymouth, this house is still standing and gives tours. This is the only house still remaining where Pilgrims have lived. John and Elizabeth wintered with their son each winter from 1670 until John's death in 1672 and Elizabeth continued to live there from 1675 to 1680. John died in this house in February and is buried with a marked grave high up on a hill in the cemetery in Plymouth. We toured the Jabez Howland house and paid our respects at his gravesite, a few days prior to walking on the Rocky Nook property and the tour guides were also descendants of John Howland and the whole visit truly felt like a homecoming.

John knew one of my other 9th Great Grandfathers, John Alden, as he was another Pilgrim aboard the Mayflower as they were sent out on exploration missions together both on the Cape and up the Kennebec. John Alden was a Cooper aboard the Mayflower, he was not part of the Separatist Church like the other passengers from Leiden. He was a hired hand who decided to stay on with the Colony and eventually converted to the Separatist Church. John Alden's bible is in a case in the Pilgrim Hall museum in Plymouth. I also had the pleasure of visiting his homestead and grave in Duxbury MA. I will post about that another day.

This is much more than just a cellarhole. It is where one branch of my family tree's roots were planted as my 8th great grandfather was born on this property. It is a place one of the leaders of the Plymouth Colony called home and raised his family. The stories the soil could tell if it could talk.

Monkees Memories Part III

In a Mexican accent "Knock knock" "Who's there?" "Green" "Green who?" "Green, Green pick up the phone."

There I was, in a bar in Chicago after a teen idols concert, drinking a pint of Guinness which Micky Dolenz had bought me. Now he was telling me knock knock jokes featuring the Taco Bell Chihuahua.

I had gone to the concert with my friends from Minnesota and they had connections that told us where we could find Micky, his sister Coco and Peter Noone after the concert. Peter didn't stay long, but I at least got up the nerve to say hello. We all sat and talked with Coco for a bit while Micky was talking to others in the bar. I waited for an opportunity to thank him for the Guinness and we struck up a conversation, which is rare for me when I meet people more famous than I because I have the knack of suddenly forgetting all the words of the English language.

I still have the pint glass from that night so I can drink from it and remember what fun it was.

Just before we moved to Utah, we caught one last monkees concert at the house of blues. We got there nice and early so we'd be guaranteed front row standing room only. The concert was fantastic, but it made me a little sad thinking this was probably the last time I would see them perform. When they shook hands after the show I got my hand grabbed by all of them as they went off stage. Peter grabbed both my hands at once and took a while to let go. I think it was only coincidence, doubtful he remembered our conversation a couple months prior at Shank hall, but who knows.

2013: front row at monkees concert in Henderson NV. This time the line up was Micky, Peter and Mike. Thrilled to finally see Mike perform live and he did not disappoint. I was happy to hear so many songs that I have never heard in concert before because he sang lead on them. If it's the last Monkees concert I get to go to, I will be content. Anything after these Monkees experiences will be a bonus.

Monkees Memories Part II

I would have the opportunity to see the Monkees in concert in 1989 at Club Casino in Hampton Beach, NH. Meatloaf opened for the Monkees and my best friend Jenny tagged along to keep me company. I remember walking by the buses, giggling like a little girl...at least until I passed by the front of Davy's bus. Across the top of the front of the bus was a marquee where the bus leaser could write a message for all to see it said... "Show us your t$ts." Shocked and stunned, I did not do what the marquee suggested and I moved along quickening my steps.

Buying a tshirt was a must and I chose the I slept with a monkee nightshirt. It is still in my closet all these years later. The concert was fantastic and we had a blast.

Fast forward to we 1997: I got a postcard in the mail from Beachwood Recordings after having purchased Peter Tork's CD Stranger things have happened. It said that Peter Tork would be playing 3 nights in a row at various venues within driving distance of our Des Plaines IL home. He was touring with some guy named James Lee Stanley. We were able to get tickets to 2 of the 3 venues, Fitzgerald's in Berwyn IL and Shank Hall in Milwaukee, WI. I was excited to get the chance to see Peter play in an small club and maybe meet him.

The night before we were to see Peter and James, they performed on Nashville Now. I discovered this James Lee Stanley guy was pretty darn good and the harmonies the two sang together were amazing and that we would be in for a couple of entertaining nights.

We arrived at Fitzgerald's and grabbed a spot in the front off to the right side of the stage, James came on first and from the first chord of Daughter Divine I was hooked. He played a lot of songs from his latest CD Domino Harvest and then Peter took the stage to play songs from his Stranger things have happened CD. It was dreamlike, I had to pinch myself to make sure I really was sitting about 10 feet away from The Peter Tork.

During the intermission I had my first "Thrill of a lifetime, meet the artist" experience with James. I remember a wonderful hug, he signed a couple of CDs that we had bought which became the first of many "Can you sign this Connie and Paul" moments. After chatting with James a bit, I moved over to meet Peter, I shyly said hi and asked him to sign my CD and then ran away like a scared rabbit. Peter was nice, but my anxiety got the better of me and I chose to retreat back to my chair.

Peter and James ended the evening by playing a set of songs together which was absolutely amazing. We went home happy and totally entertained and looking forward to the night after next when we would go to the show at Shank Hall.

Shank Hall was equally as spectacular as Fitzgerald's, I bought another CD from James and then got the courage up to talk to Peter. He greeted me with one of the most amazing hugs I have ever gotten from a human being in my life. It is definitely in my top 5. Maybe sometime I will post a blog about the 5 best hugs I have ever gotten.

Over the years we lived in Chicago area I had the opportunity to see James many times and he introduced me to 2 wonderful singers, Michael Smith and Tom Dundee and that I am grateful for.

Another night I am grateful for was in February of 2001 back at Shank Hall. It was a snowy night and I had driven up alone to see James and Peter play another show. At some point during the show I realized it might be a long time before I would see either of them play a show because in 6 months I was pretty sure I was moving to Utah. I didn't want to leave my life in the burbs of Chicago, but at the same time, I knew we needed to move somewhere more affordable so we could eventually buy a house. After the show I was talking to James as he was packing up his gear and feeling really stressed and sad about life. I kiddingly made the comment that some days I felt the need to find the nearest bridge to test gravity instead of thinking about the move to Utah. Peter must have been listening in as he packed his gear and he made some comment about when we get mad at other people we really are mad at ourselves.  When that didn't get a grin or a chuckle out of me, he stopped what he was doing, came over to where I was standing,  put his hand under my chin and pulled my face up to his. "You're not really looking for a bridge to jump off of are you?" "No Peter, I am just freaking out at the thought of such major change." "It will be good, whatever happens..Don't worry. Promise me you won't go looking for a bridge." He wouldn't let go of my chin or let me look away until I promised. I would try to tell this story to him years later, but there were to many people around him and I was embarrassed so I thanked him for it, but lied and said I didn't remember exactly what he said because I didn't want to tell the story in front of strangers.

Monkee Memories Part 1

Sometime in the early 80's one of the TV stations out of Boston would air reruns of The Monkees in the afternoons just after I got home from school.  I remember many times being over at my best friend Kara's grandmother's house, laying on the floor watching the ending credits for "Banana Splits" (La la la, la la la la, la la la, la la la la.-try to get that out of your head now), anticipating 30 minutes of music and humor.  Never in my 11-12 year old mind did I ever picture I would get the opportunity to see them perform, let alone meet them one day.

Davy was the first Monkee I ever met.  He had written an autobiography and was doing a book signing in Boston.  I asked my parents if we could go and they drove the distance so I could seek out my first Monkee.  I remember the line was long and my parents went off to do their own thing for a good chunk of the afternoon, occasionally checking in on our progress around the levels of Fanuel Hall.  Finally the much anticipated moment arrived, I remember small talk, (very little as I never seem to have a lot to say when I meet famous people..as I would rather feel stupid for not saying much then look stupid for saying something stupid.)  He signed my book, took a picture with me and then gave my brother Dale who had accompanied me on this adventure a thumbs up before meeting the next person.  My mind raced and my heart was all a-flutter trying to ingrain that moment of time forever in my memory banks.

MTV got a hold of the Monkees in 1986, I watched re-runs upon re-runs as they ran their marathons.  Then a 20th anniversary tour was announced with a show in Portland Maine.  Once again, my parents being the cool parents that they were, upon asking the small request of tickets and a drive to and from Portland..my brother Dale and I found ourselves sitting in seats about halfway up on the left hand side of the stage.  Sitting through Gary Puckett, Herman's Hermits and The Grass Roots was ok, but I was really only there for 1 thing... The Monkees.  When they came onto the stage (minus Mike) it was more than I could have imagined.  The night flew by as we sang along with every song and laughed at their onstage antics.  My parents went to dinner and wandered around town for most of the time we were in the concert, but during the last couple of songs managed to sneak in to see part of the show.  They said security was more concerned about the teenagers and 20 somethings so they slipped right into the venue without even a second look. The Monkees were playing the next night in Bangor so my cousins Dana and Matt would soon get to experience their own Monkees memory.

Yes, when the 4 of us got together we would lip-sync to the monkees and put on an occasional show.  Once I remember, we lip-sync'd to she hangs out, but we put balloon boobs on my cousin dana to completely change the meaning of the song.  It was at least funny to our juvenile minds.  At the end of the song 2 of us took a pin to a balloon and popped it so dana would "hang out" no more.

Great Big Sea n Me

I was at Milwaukee Irish Fest in 1999 (or 2000) when I stumbled across Great Big Sea playing on a stage.  They immediately grabbed my attention and I was blown away by their music.  They played 3 times that weekend and by the time the festival was over I was hooked.  Their mix of pop, rock and traditional is well done and like a fine wine or cheese after 20 years in existence they still kick a$$ live and in person.  The joy of living in Chicagoland was that I would have the opportunity to watch them perform many times before we moved in 2001. 

They made my 30th birthday extremely special.  They played a small club somewhere around Wrigley Field on my birthday and after a fantastic show we were hanging out in the bar and Alan heard it was my birthday. Even though he didn't know me, he rushed over to where I was standing, gave me a big hug and a kiss and wished me a happy happy happy birthday.  Darrell also came over and wished me a happy birthday as well.  I remember he and I talked hockey for a bit before he disappeared from the bar.  Bob and Sean were no where to be found, but I would later learn that was the norm for them.  We hung out at the bar with a small group of people, maybe 4-5 others and Alan.  Alan told me about his grandfather and what a character he was.  They sing a song called Lukey's Boat and now whenever I hear it I can hear Alan imitating his Grandfather the day he asked Alan if his girlfriend at the time was "good for planching"  which he explained was significant from when the old wooden boats would be repaired (planched) with wooden pegs, new boards and cracks filled with putty.  To planch takes on a whole new meaning when you're talking to an Old Salt, if you get my drift.  We said our goodbyes at some point later in the evening and said we'd see him the next night in Milwaukee.

The next night we traveled north to another small bar and did it all again. We hung out some more, but didn't stay nearly as long since we had further to travel back home that night.  We did see their van and trailer parked at the hotel they were staying at so I left them a note on the windshield thanking them for a fantastic weekend.

Every few years I go on the road to catch some shows since the closest they have played was once in las vegas many, many years ago.  I hit 3 nights in a row in California: SLO, Santa Barbara and LA, followed by a show in Salt Lake City a week later. Russell Crowe joined them on stage for the encore in Los Angeles..which was quite amazing.

I hit a dry spell seeing them live for a few years until almost a month ago when we flew to Boulder CO for 2 nights of GBS bliss.  Despite blizzard conditions at time, it was the most perfect weekend.  We got into town a couple hours before the show began so after checking into the hotel we foraged for some food before going to the venue.  Our seats were in the back of the theater, but that didn't stop us from having a great time.  It was like no time had passed and they did 2 full sets of music with a intermission in between.  Prior to the concert they had asked for pictures of people who would be attending the show to show in a slideshow during the song "Good People". I emailed the one of paul and I sitting by the "danger landmine" sign in Israel.  It was awesome to see us pop up on the jumbotron behind the band. 

The next night was even better than the first night.  We had backstage passes to meet the boys and at 7:30 Andy their tour manager met us by the sound booth and brought us back.  I had purposed picked a hockey jersey to wear that night because I knew that would at least help with conversation if I got tongue-tied. I met Bob first and he shook my hand and said hi, we talked about the hockey jersey and then Sean introduced himself to me and then finally Alan.  I really wanted to babble on about the last time I met him and lukey's boat but I shoved it all back and talked about the jersey.  They signed some stuff for us and Alan again commented to paul what an "awesome jersey" I was wearing. He asked if we were from Alaska (I was wearing an Alaska Aces jersey) and I said no, we were "Utards" from the desert of Utah and I got another chuckle out of Alan.  I asked Sean if he had gone adventuring that day (the day before he told a story about climbing the flat iron trail only to find a beware of mountain lions sign at the top....which of course would have been a lot more informative at the bottom of the trail.) He shook his head back and forth and said no no no no no... I learned my lesson yesterday and stayed at the hotel all day today...we got pictures taken and then headed back to our seats in the front row up against the stage where I was close enough to count Alan's nose hairs all evening long.  It was one of the best nights ever.

I love Great Big Sea's music.  It fits all moods and I can never stay cranky for long after I put on of their CDs on..It's great traveling music, great housecleaning music, great background music and great everything music. 

Memories and Christmas Traditions.

     Tis the season of memories, with Christmas less than 20 days away.  I don't remember any "Ralphie" Christmases where I just had to have a particular gift or I would just die.  But I do remember the Christmas I asked for and got a doll you could make up water bottles for and she would really "drink" the bottle and promptly wet her diaper. The year after I remember asking for her baby sister and adding her to the family on Christmas morning.  I remember the coolness of getting a lite brite from Santa as well as the Christmas there was a banjo under the tree (actually it was hidden under the table). I could always count on a whitman's sampler of 4 chocolates in my stockling as well as a stuffed animal under the tree.
     The elves always left us one present on Christmas Eve to start the festivities.  They always knew when we were headed out to look at Christmas lights because when we got home our one present was waiting for us.  One present was saved for after dinner as well, as we got older that usually became a gag-type gift with some sarcasm from the givers to the givee. 
     It didn't matter how early we woke up on Christmas morning.  The rule was you stayed in your room or a sibling's room and went through the goodies in your stocking until the parental unit awoke and granted passage to the livingroom.  I don't know if this was an actual rule or if we just didn't dare go wake up the parental unit to start the Christmas festivities. When my dad would have to work on Christmas, we'd be up extremely early so he could open presents and see us open presents before he went to work.
     I remember once sitting on Santa's lap at a department store.  I told him what I wanted and then he handed me a broken candy cane.  I was disappointed with the broken candy cane until he told me it was a special candy cane because Rudolph stepped on it.  Oh the naivity of a child..I was ok with the fact that a dirty reindeer hoof had stepped on my candy cane and crushed it to oblivion.
     Most years we headed back to Maine sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas to visit the family. There was always a pinata to break, some holiday games to play, great food to eat and tons of time spent with the cousins playing in the woods, hiking down to the beaver pond, playing football or hiking up to the big rock in the middle of the blueberry field to play or to sled back down towards the house if there was snow..  So many memories of being out at the rock, when all the cousins were together for Grampie's funeral we as adults trudged up the hill to sit on the rock and remember times past.
     Tradition of Christmas dinner became deep dish pizza.  A tradition followed even now, even though some of the recipes have changed.
     I remember 2 ways we counted down to Christmas, one was an advent calender.  Each day one of us would get to open one of the doors.  Some years it had chocolates, but my favorite calender was a scratch and sniff one.  I have always loved scented things and so the scratch and sniff of Christmas was no exception.  The other way was putting cottonballs in santa's beard.  Mom would draw a santa's face and 24 spots for his beard and by Christmas the man in red would have a full beard.
     Many happy memories come with this time of year and these are some of them.

A $2 reminder that family is family.

A couple years ago on my birthday I stopped by the Post Office to buy some stamps. I paid cash and in the change I received was a $2 bill.  It's rare to come across this denomination of money and I found it no coincidence that of all times to have one pop up was on my birthday.  In 1976, the Federal Reserve re-introduced the $2 bill after 10 years of not printing those bills for circulation. I remember getting birthday cards from my Great Aunt Olive and Great Great Aunt Mary and in the card there was always a $2 bill.
These ladies lived in Pennsylvania and even though I may have met them in Maine when I was young, I really don't remember meeting them until my 13th birthday when we took a roadtrip out to visit them for a few days.  Aunt Mary was born in England and came to the US in 1910 with her husband Edward, settling in Philadelphia. Aunt Olive was born in 1913 and appears to have lived all of her life in Pennsylvania.  (I am currently working on that portion of the family tree, which is why the information is flowing so easily from my fingertips). Aunt Olive married my grandfather's brother John (everyone called him Jim). Uncle Jim joined the Navy in 1927 and was stationed in Philadelphia and this is where they met. They were married in 1933 after Uncle Jim discharged from the Navy. They never had any children and he died a few days before my 6th birthday.
I remember being a little overwhelmed on my 13th birthday, but it was a time when I started to get a small understanding that family was family regardless of how little or how much time you got to spend with each other.  Aunt Olive baked me a special cake, with coins wrapped in parchment paper baked into it.  The fun was eating your piece of cake and finding out how much money was buried in it. I had never heard of a cake like that before and felt special because she had made it especially for me.  She also wrapped an old jewelry box my Aunt Mary had as a present and in this jewelry box was a pearl necklace.  She gave each one of us "girl cousins" when we turned 13. Such lavish gifts from someone I barely knew..but family is family. That visit was the last I would have with Aunt Olive and Aunt Mary as they died a few years later.
An interesting fact I learned about my Aunts is that in 1951 they traveled aboard the Queen Mary to Southhampton England for a 2 month stay before returning home. 2 suitcases a piece..those ladies certainly knew how to pack lightly.
I know that $2 bill I got on my birthday from the post office was their way of saying hello, letting me know that even though they have been gone for many years..family is still family and they are still around.

Merely Acquaintances

After a visit with friends from Chicago last month, I had an epiphany about my life in Utah and why I find myself occasionally frustrated and hating the life I have chosen to live here. I came to the realization that living here the majority of "friends" I have fall into 2 categories: those who I have a working relationship with and I really have to question if it wasn't for that relationship if I would even be a part of their lives and those who are merely acquaintances unless a need arises and then they are my friends because they can call on me to serve a purpose or fill a need. This statement seems harsh but at the same time, I feel the need to reiterate not all I call friends fall into these categories, but for the most part the proof is in the pudding. I am very aware of the reasons I am not worthy of true friendship in others eyes and I knew shortly after moving to this place it would be a struggle to have more than pseudo-friends.

Over the past 10 years,I have built up a substantial fortress of defensive walls and truthfully it has been such a slow process, I didn't even realize it was happening to the extent it has. I have become the master of putting on whatever face/mask is asked of me at any given moment of the day to get through the interactions with people as quickly and painlessly as possible by giving that "friend" the version of connie they need at that particular moment. This makes everyone happy, even me so I thought, but in the long run..my happiness is as superficial and temporary as my mask. I find myself cringing when the phone rings and bracing myself when the person on the other end says "hey, I need.... could you..." or "what are you doing such and such a day"..., followed by the "I need" it's rarely an invite to do anything social with someone..it's usually just void filling time.

I find myself extremely uncomfortable when genuine caring is shown for me because I am always waiting for the hidden need or underlying cause to rear its ugly head and show that it wasn't a truly caring moment between friends, but buttering up because they want something from me. Do people truly miss me when I am not somewhere, or is it just that they had to find someone else to sweet talk into filling some physical or emotional void?

The couple of hours spent with my Chicago friends showed me many things, I found the pre-utah connie under all the layers and for that moment in time, was relaxed, said things as I felt they should be said, loved my friends for who they are, just as I felt them loving me not for the connie I am now, but for the connie I used to be and the connie they could still see in me, even though I can't see her myself, but it does give me the hope that I could be again if I could let my guard down.

I avoid a lot of social situations because I hate forced conversation as much as I hate the dreaded silence of being a wallflower in the room with no one to talking to me. It's a major catch-22, so usually I have found it's best to stay home and not deal with either outcome.

I realize adulthood isn't like highschool where you have a close network of friends (not that I had one of those then either.. it was more of a fit in with everybody, fit in with nobody situation)..but I did at least have some friends I trusted with 100% of my heart. I still have those friends, but they are all many miles away..thankfully technology helps the distance not seem so far away.

I am grateful that I am beginning to figure out how to be less frustrated with my dealings with people I live amongst. I doubt I will ever be truly happy, as it's a hard thing to feel like the 5th wheel in almost every aspect of my social life, but I must look at it from the Grief cycle perspective-The past 10 years have seen the denial, bargaining and anger stages.. now I must seek acceptance of the realities of living here and make my ownself happy without giving up any of my happiness because others need their needs filled and feel I am the one to do it.

Slacker

So it's been over a year since I last blogged. I was correct in my prediction, it was the year of the brown belt. I needed to rearrange some things in my head and work on letting my shoulder heal some more but I hope to promote to my first Ban-Bu belt at the end of next month and to Black belt by years end. Part of me thought about wiping out all the blog entries and starting from scratch, but I think I will leave them up for now while I chew on what direction to take my blogging.

I have finally stopped listening to my Doctor who told me there was nothing to do but live with my polycystic ovary syndrome. Granted when I was diagnosed 15 years ago or so when we were investigating why the whole having kids thing wasn't working out for us, there was nothing to do but to live with it. But the things that come to light recently is that if the disease is allowed to progress without prevention, ...diabetes, fatty liver disease, obesity with weight gain by just thinking about carbs, insulin resistance, hyperlipidemia are all now a part of my reality now that I am over 4o and wasn't on a preventative maintenance or being monitored for those things which develop. So recently I went from taking no medications to being on horse pills and supplements. I have been adjusting the way I eat and trying only to do the "good carbs" The metformin actually makes me sick if I eat too many of the crappy carbs I shouldn't be eating.. which can be both a good and a bad thing. I go for my first followup since being on the meds in a couple weeks, hopefully the lab results are looking a little better than they did 3 months ago.

year's end

I ended the year doing something I have never done before. The day after Christmas I was on duty and had 1 call. There wasn't anything I could do for this particular person as the choice this person had made left me unable to utilize any skill I have learned as a paramedic except for turning the ambulance around and head back to the fire station. I had New year's eve off from my regular job and had the opportunity to help prepare and serve a meal at the church for this person's family after the funeral. I felt since I had been unable to help the family after the 911 call was made, maybe I could make up for it by helping the family, quietly behind the scenes on another sad day. I have seen a lot of death in my 7 years in EMS and this was the first time I had the opportunity to feel like there was something else I could help with, even in a tiny capacity. I still don't really know how I feel about it. I am glad I did it, but I don't think I will do it again real soon. I have always been able to distance myself from the family when something terrible happens because I focus on the patient and performing any necessary skills. Having this person's spouse come up and give me a hug at the end of the afternoon brought the emotional distance I am comfortable keeping from the situation closer than I have ever been. Probably good for personal growth, but not so good for personal well-being. I'm still chewing on it and probably will be for a while.
I'd like to say I am looking forward to this new year with promise, but right now I am overwhelmed and undermotivated. This causes me to rethink all that I am doing and makes me consider walking away from most everything. This should be the year for blackbelt, but I question if I have the ummph to get myself where I need to be, between the shoulder still snap, crackle and popping and the fact I may have to inconvenience other people in order to assist me in getting myself to where I need to be. Maybe I was only cracked up to be a brown belt and should be happy with that accomplishment.
Still in the same mental place about the fire department, don't love it enough to want to stay, don't hate it enough to want to leave so am playing that day by day, call by call.

A year to black belt

Again it has been forever since I have written anything here. Tomorrow is the beginning of a new week, and also 9-10 weeks until what will be my first Ban Bu belt camp with the physical testing. So this week I resolve on Monday to begin and complete the 9 week couch to 5k and work on the other portions so I can pass as much of the physical expectations as possible. No more excuses, no more laziness.. there's really no more time to procrastinate and be able to be successful.

After an extremely tough medical call a few weeks ago which had my confidence shattered and my emotions in turmoil, I am beginning to bounce back and feel a small sense of accomplishment and enjoyment my life was once filled with when my pager would go off. My partner and the crew that shows up to lend an extra hand is a big part of it, but the ability to know what needs to be done and be confident in my decisions that they are the best fit for the situation at that moment in time is huge. I am currently taking on the challenge of a fire officer I certification class and that is helping me to have the courage to acknowledge and use some of the qualities others see in me that I don't see in myself in times when I need to take the leadership position and work myself and others through a task. I have to keep reminding myself if others can see good and worth in me, I should too.

I've been filling some spare time working on the family tree. I have a lot of stories on my dad's side of the people on the various branches. On my mom's side I have lots of names and dates but not many stories so that is my goal over the next year is to find out more stories that I can share. Because Maine winters were cold and snowy, I spent a lot of that time working on the family tree. I guess that's why now that the cold has hit here, I find myself wanting to delve into the search engines and pop in the names and dates to find out what I can discover.

My shoulder still bothers me, mostly a chronic ache at this point and I can tell when I have over done things by the different pain the day after I overdo it. It's always sore after a shift at the fire station despite me limiting the amount of lifting and carrying of stuff I do while on shift. The guys I work with are great and most of the time on a medical call I have very little lifting to do and on the fire calls, I am not putting on a scba or going inside of scenes unless I absolutely have to because the shoulder gets sore, just from having the weight of the turnout coat on it and knowing this I don't want to feel what it will feel like with the pack on my back quite yet. I have to get it stronger and less painful so I can get back to life as I knew it on fire calls in addition to the pushups and flex hang that awaits me in February's Ban Bu camp.

catching up

I have been dragging my feet for quite sometime in regards to posting a new blog. Lacking approximately the same amount of ambition for getting the workouts in that I should be getting in. Hopefully I can turn both issues around.

I took a trip out to california, all was enjoyable spending time with friends and family.. except the heat followed me out from the desert. This week I have been attempting to get back into the swing of "normal" life.

There's a new baby kitten in the critter crew, Bella joined us last friday after I got home from california. Gallagher is happy to have a new friend and it's great to have some fresh energy in the house, except at bedtime when I would prefer to be sleeping, she prefers to be pouncing on feet and biting toes with her sharp teeth.

I was introduced to an interesting concept last week which I will go into more in another post. Approval addiction...I admit it's something I have an issue with.. only finding self-worth when I am at work and doing a good job. This goes back to my karate post and not feeling the love through encouraging comments based on the fact that I don't feel I am doing skills worthy of praise. This is why I work so many hours sometimes, not being able to say no.. because if I am working then someone is happy with my performance which means I am ok as a person.

I do realize this is not the way to be and am slowly working to change this pattern that has been part of all of my adult life and explains why I was such a suck up to the teachers in school. Since I didn't fit in with my peers, my only source of self-worth outside my home environment was the praise of the teachers for a job well done whether it be with school work or teacher's pet project.

Focusing on the "can do's" and not the "can't's"

It's been an interesting couple of weeks in my world. An hour and a half into sword camp 2 weeks ago I was working on judo rolls and managed to partially separate my shoulder...the left one of course. I have a new appreciation for patients who state their pain is a 9 or a 10 with movement. It may help to improve my bedside manner a bit, although I have also learned that sucking it up for a couple seconds to move a hurting body part isn't pleasant, but by the same token isn't going to make me die either so that may cause less sympathy for my patients as well. Suck it up Buttercup!!!

I sulked a bit on day 2. Couldn't sleep on my stomach, had to get help getting out of bed, had to totally figure out a new way to do everything right handed for work and couldn't go to karate because it just hurt too much. I knew I needed to get out of the negativity and head back to my normally optimistic state so I started making my day 3 as normal as my shoulder would permit it. In between the ice packs, ibuprofen and adjusting I went back to karate classes, including finishing out the sword camp. My sling became my bokken sheath and I worked everything I could one handed. Self defense techniques were out of the question, and still are for the most part. Katas are hard, but I either focus on stances or do things the best I can with my shoulder in the sling. As I found out the other day, there are particular positions that if performed in a kata will make my shoulder revert back to feeling like day 1 pain.

I haven't done much fire/ems since the shoulder except attend training. I am planning on 2 shifts this week, thursday/friday night and will adjust as necessary since lifting and pulling still aren't options yet. Hopefully if we get called out the calvary will come and assist my partner with normal duties that I can't perform.

Monday I should be able to get rid of the sling for the most part, only using it when the shoulder gets fatigued or painful from gravity pulling on it. I'm trying to take it slow and back off doing stuff when I know I have pushed it too far. Having learned from the Montana ankle injury that took 2 years to heal and still swells 7 years later when it's been abused.. I don't want a repeat experience...especially since this could affect both work and karate.. currently 2 of the most important things in my world.

Sometimes it's way to easy to focus on what we have lost instead of what we have left. That is a bad, downward spiral that leads to some pretty low points in life. It's an incredibly hard place to pull oneself out of, especially if you don't realize you have fallen into that pit or if you do realize but choose to exist in the darkness instead of seeking the light and finding something to be happy about again because the darkness is the easier of the 2 existences.

monday

So here it is, Monday again. This week is at least off to a better start. Work was having issues with their server so I was forced to take an hour lunch and for once took advantage of the time. I grabbed the Ipod and did the first day/first week of couch to 5k. My goal this week if my knee permits is to get through the first week of running and have days of swimming in between. I hope to get to karate 4 times this week as I have so much I need to learn in the next month..I don't know how I am going to get through it.

We worked swords tonight.. weapons perplex me...even when I learn how to do something..it's gone from my brain the next time I am called to do it...

just keep trying I guess...but I am happy with getting the first step of my goals accomplished today.. let's see where I am 9 weeks from now once the C25K kicks in.

Realization

So over the past week I have been working overtime.. couldn't say no thanks so I fell back into taking care of others needs instead of my own. I feel happy this afternoon that I am done with the overtime and can get back to focusing on doing what I need to do.. especially since I have crept back over into 2oo territory and after the all the work of the past couple years wasted on stress snacking.. I really need to get back on track.

Thinking about why I haven't been totally able to buy into karate made me realize something. The only thing I don't love about karate is the encouraging praise. Sounds odd I know, but after many years of hearing people say things they really don't mean, or praising because they want to sound encouraging but really could care less about my success, or the worst of the bunch: those who encourage and praise but in their hearts mean the exact opposite and hope for failure... words are nothing but fluff to me and unless I trust someone whole-heartedly to say what they mean and mean what they say.. if anything words of praise and encouragement send me down a darker, more negative path. I realize this is not the case with my instructor..praise, correct, praise.. but old habits die hard and much like a soft squishy handshake comes across as "could care less, let's move onto someone who matters or knows what they are doing." most of the time in class because of my extreme frustration at lack of natural ability, this is how I perceive things.

Don't get me wrong, attaboys make me smile when I know I have done a job well. But under any other circumstance, especially in a bunch of people.. I'd prefer to go un-noticed. I am wondering if besides the fact that I do admit to stress eating and still need to get that under control, and the fact that I am compulsively lazy, if this is one of the reasons I time after time have gained the weight back and stopped exercising. When I am a fat blob I can morph into the wallpaper and go unnoticed in a room. When I lose some of the weight, I get complimented and even though the person may mean exactly what they say... it sends me down the "How fun for you, bless your little heart, you have such a sweet spirit" mind-set. I know it's a combination of things,,, mostly the calories in don't equal the calories out..but it may have something to do with it.

It's been almost 7 months since I've given up the drink. I still cook with it, but since the last time I had a bottle open just to drink, it's been 7 months.. and 10 months since the last time I reached the point of intoxication. Now if I can just learn to eat to fuel my body instead of my emotions I will be one step closer to finding the balance. I miss the intoxication sometimes, miss the taste sometimes but I know it's for the better.

So now that I realized that in my head, all praise and encouragement is unjustified unless a job has been truly done well.. that's all it is is a realization.. I have no clue how to change my thinking about mistrusting others and their words... but will try to work on that too.

A Step in the Right Direction

It's been a good day. It took a week and a half to finally get started but this week I got around to renewing my pool pass and today after work I went swimming. It was only for 20 minutes, but in line with the belief of doing one thing that makes you happy each day.. this was my one thing for today. I forget how much I enjoy shutting down the mind as I slowly swim laps back and forth.

Karate went ok tonight. I love self-defense night because it means ground work and grappeling. It's been over a year since I started karate and despite making some large strides in a few areas, I still haven't completely given into the process. I'll explore that in another blog entry because I don't want to venture down that road tonight.. I am too relaxed and happy. I will admit during the tournament, I did succeed in giving in and letting go.. but that was out of my usual element.

It's going to be a scorcher the next couple of days so I think a few visits to the pool will be in order. I am tired tonight, good sleep will come easy I think.

What's in a name

When I lived in Des Plaines, IL, I had the pleasure of being introduced to a wonderful singer/songwriter named Tom Dundee. He was a dear friend of one of my friends, merely an aquaintance of mine. I had the pleasure of seeing him perform many times, shared a pizza or 2 with him after shows and was extremely saddened a few years ago when he died from injuries after a motorcycle accident. The world lost an amazing man in April of 2006 and I definately wish I could seen him perform just one more time. I am thankful for the CDs (and albums) he recorded so at least I can have him as part of the soundtrack to my life.

This blog is named after one of the songs he wrote. When I was trying to think of something creative to call it.. it was the first thing that popped into my head, so I went with it.

A Delicate Balance-Tom Dundee

Deep within there is a vision
That time is nothing but space,
And between every minute and mile that is in it
Somehow there's a beautiful face.

And it's all such a delicate balance
That the sport of infinity gives,
Expectations we have can lead down the path
Where that devil discouragement lives.

I dreamed I was barer than naked
And it scared me so bad that I called,
"Help me back to the prision, with the chains of the living."
Although nothing had hurt me at all.

And it's all just a delicate balance
As it turns through the circles of air,
To worry does nothing but steals from the loving
And robs from the pleasure that's there.

Deep within there is a feeling
That love and understanding's the door,
And honesty is the key that was given to you and me
To open it and so many more.

And it's all just a delicate balance
Takes away just as much as it gives,
To live it is real, to love it is to feel
You're a part of what everything is.

I think tomorrow since he's on my mind, he'll be played while I work.

And it's another Monday. Last week wasn't nearly as active as I had hoped. I did enjoy the downtime and evenings free. I did drop .8 pounds and got to the gym once. I remembered how much I enjoyed swimming so I think I will renew my pool pass from a few years ago and start hitting the pool for some laps on the nights I have karate since I drive right past it on my way home. No excuses except pure laziness there.

Guess we'll see what this week brings.

Stealing Joy

If you are sitting in your livingroom watching the best movie on tv and eating the greatest banana split in the world and a stranger walks into your house, picks up your tv in one hand and grabs your banana split with the other before walking right back out of your house taking away your moment of bliss, moment of joy. Would you just sit there and let him or would you get up off the couch, grab the nearest weapon and beat the snot out of him to try to get your tv and banana split back.

Most people would chase after and fight back in this situation. Why is it then in our lives we allow not only strangers, but more often then not friends to walk into our lives and steal the joy from our lives, from our home or from our jobs/hobbies? Our lives are what we make of them and no one has the right to take that away. Most of the time we don't even realize the joy is being sucked out of a situation until we are too far gone and think that something is wrong with us. It can leave one extremely broken and bitter.

Once your joy is stolen, your world is never the same. You may strive to get back to the person you once knew, but you come out of it a different, changed person, even if it's ever so slight. A little less trusting, a little more resistant and you may not even be able to reach the same level of happiness you once knew. At this point the hard decision needs to be made to continue to pursue at a lower level of happiness or jump ship and find something untarnished to pursue being wary of those pursuing it with you.

Change is hard, but as humans we should always seek to grow more, know more and evolve. Without this we become stagnant and that might be worse than going through the change and evolution.

Firefighting and EMS has become this for me. I have known this for a couple years, but despite my attempts at leaving the field..I keep allowing myself to get sucked back into it like a junkie hoping that one more fix will make it all better. I am glad to have had the realization that I allowed someone to steal the joy I once found holding onto a hose or bouncing around in the back of a speeding ambulance, but I am still teetering on the edge of figuring out whether to stay and work with the pieces I have left or chock it all up to experience and shut the door on this portion of my existence.

For now I will stay on the current path, seems whenever I divert I get nudges that despite me wanting to be done.. it's not quite time to be done and that things will work out one way or another eventually but I need to have the patience to stick it out for right now.

Thought for the day: " Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive that is youier than you." Dr Seuss

Whenever I call you Friend

It's hard to believe 5 years has passed since my friend and mentor Dick lost his battle with multiple myeloma. It was fitting to be out in the woods camping this past weekend on the actual anniversary date, I thought about him as I snuck away from the campfire and sought a little solitude in my tent just before everyone else at the retreat had called it a night. Dick loved the outdoors, especially Yosemite and although I never experienced that side of him, his daughters were kind enough to share their memories and adventures out in the woods with me the day of his funeral.

What a pair we made. He a retired LA county firefighter/public information officer..me a snot-nosed inexperienced rookie firefighter. I didn't have to be anyone else but me when we'd spend time together. No question was too stupid and no story was too longwinded. Dick was a master storyteller, telling me stories of his experiences and asking questions of me about my fire/ems training to become more knowledgeable about fire training in the current day.

The last time we were together, a couple months before he passed we had only planned to spend a couple hours visiting, but the day flew by and before we realized it 16 hours had passed and it was well after midnight and we had talked the entire time. I think we both knew in our hearts it would be the last time we'd be together in the same room and didn't want to have to say goodbye. It wasn't the last time we spoke, but it was the last time I would walk through his front door to be greeted by his bright eyes and friendly smile.

He was one of the reasons I started going to church. Whenever I was in town, the easiest place to meet up with him was at the church he went to. We'd sit together during the service and then either sit on the lawn and swap fire stories or head across the street to a favorite restaurant and have lunch while the fire stories were told. I didn't even realize what was taking place until a few years later when I discovered church no longer was a scary place to be and that most Christians were normal and nonfanatical. Even if Dick was out of town when I was in California, I found myself going to the church on sunday morning for services. It continued for years even after he died. I'd walk the grounds and think of him and the times we shared.

The first picture we ever had taken together was us standing by a Wyland painting of 3 whales under the water, with the mother whale bringing the baby whale up to the surface for it's first breath. I didn't know it at the time, just how much that painting would come to describe our friendship. He guided me up through many things and passed away around the time I got officially notified of being accepted into the paramedic program. He didn't have any doubts I wouldn't be.. I just wish I could have told him personally I had made it.

He had done and learned many things in his life and willingly gave any advice when it was sought. He was one of the most optimistic people I have ever spent time with. He once told me, "I am not dying from cancer, I am living with it." and he did, until his final breath.

May I strive to be that same person for someone else when our paths cross.

Thought for the day: "If you're alone, I'll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile. But anytime you need a friend, I'll just be me.- author unknown