It's been some time since I posted on this blog. Life has been good, but not really monumental enough to make me think so much, until now. I logged in this evening, believing that the words would flow forth like a stream. But sitting here now, I don't know where to begin. I usually don't have a hard time putting thoughts into words, but in moments like these, I'm terrible at it. I generally like to organize my thoughts before I post anything; it's just the perfectionist in me. But I'm confused this evening, and every attempt I make at planning out this post seems in vain. I guess all I can do is just type...
My uncle passed away this morning after a long battle with pulmonary fibrosis. It was horrible watching yet another family member slowly passing away, and knowing that there was nothing any of us could do to stop it. It seems like that has happened far too much in our family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, my mother...too many people who've had to deal with horrible illnesses. We've had family members whose passings have been sudden, and I wonder sometimes if they're better off. Not that I don't miss them; I miss all of them dearly, but I think the fact that they were spared from pain and suffering is a good thing. Yet with each of their deaths - both the sudden and prolonged - there's an inner struggle that gets harder each time.
We live in a world of terrible people: murderers, rapists, drug dealers, etc. Only a few minutes spent watching television or reading the paper reveals the horrible demons that exist in the minds of men and women. With so many disgusting people, I can't help but wonder: Why are good people made to suffer, and why do good people die? It's a question that parents try to explain to their children, as my father tried to explain to me when I was younger and anyone I cared about died, but I have yet to receive a definitive answer. I know it's an unlikely scenario that good people would live forever. The planet couldn't provide enough to support the human race if some people didn't die eventually. But why, with all the horrible people in the world, do those who live a good life have to die? That leads to another, perhaps more important problem.
How does one maintain his/her faith in such a world? When something like this happens, faith doesn't seem to provide the comfort it once did. Rather than comfort, I feel anger - anger that this supposedly benevolent Creator would allow good men and women to suffer so horribly. And after such a long struggle, their lives are snuffed out, like their fight didn't mean anything. It's not the first time I've questioned my faith. I've done so on several occasions, and I usually find my way back to it. But when I finally feel that I'm comfortable with trusting God, this happens, and my faith is once again shadowed by doubt.
People have tried to explain these things to me in different ways, and I dismiss each explanation. None of them seem good enough for me. Like I said before, I'm a perfectionist, and I like having answers. But I've tried over and over to make sense of suffering and good people dying, and have yet to find one explanation that makes perfect sense and is acceptable to me. I've heard from atheists and Catholics, the entire spectrum basically, and no one can give me the solace I need when a loved one dies. I learn to move on of course. I'm not the one who died, but I still don't have an answer. The worst part is probably that faith becomes more and more elusive each time our family has to go through this. It feels like my faith is hanging off a bridge, and I'm holding onto it with a rope. Once in a while, I lose my grip. I'm able to grab the rope just in time, but each time, there's less and less rope to hang on to. Eventually, I wonder if that rope will slip through my fingers, and I really will lose my faith completely.
I still want to believe, but it's just not as easy as it was. If God is truly benevolent, then I don't know how pain, suffering, and evil could exist. I've been told it's not my place to question His plan, but not questioning the unknown goes against my nature.
Maybe God doesn't exist, or if He does, maybe He just doesn't care as much as we want to believe.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Class of 2010. Instructor: Life
Good grief. Two months since I made my last posting. I didn't realize it had been so long!! Time really does have a way of getting away from us. That was even more evident at 3:00 this morning, after just celebrating yet another New Year. For a moment last night, I thought, "Didn't we just do this??" Each passing year seems to move more quickly. A year was such a long time in my youth. Every 365-day countdown to my next birthday, Christmas, or New Year's was endless. The thought of "a whole 'nother year" was like climbing Mt. Everest. There was no way I could wait that long for anything! Now, at 30 years old, a year has become a brief moment. The time that seemed so unbelievably long in my childhood now exists much the same as an apparition - it's there, then it's gone, and you're left wondering if you ever really saw it at all.
Sitting here at my computer, I've been contemplating the vision that was 2010. So much to experience, in just the blink of an eye. Another chapter has been added to the story of my life, and a full one at that. Each year teaches us new lessons, but I can't say any other year has taught me as much as this one. I was listening to a friend's music show last night, and one of the members in the chat room posed the question: What did you learn in 2010? It was quite a loaded question, and while I provided a brief answer, I spent the rest of the show thinking about it and knowing that I couldn't possibly summarize 2010 in a simple, one-sentence response. Trying to do so would be like writing a one-page book report on War and Peace. (As a side note, I would NOT recommend reading that book.) Since I enjoy writing so much, I figured the best way for me to understand what happened this past year is to make a list. Not a list of actual events, mind you, but rather a list of what I learned.
1. People are who they are, and any attempt to change them is a worthless endeavor.
2. True friendships don't fulfill your wants; they fulfill your needs.
3. Proclaiming one's strengths takes far less courage than admitting one's weaknesses.
4. You can't set the expectations for your own life in terms of another person's life.
5. You'll never make everyone else happy, despite your greatest efforts.
6. It's okay to put yourself first.
7. Your job is never worth your health.
8. God DOES give you more than you can handle, but He also gives you friends to help carry the load.
9. Life really IS black and white. Dealing in "grays" is just a way to avoid searching for the real answer.
10. The only problem with humanity is humans.
11. Politicians are like professional sports players - overpaid and underperforming.
12. Others' actions are out of our control; our reactions are completely under our control.
13. Cats really are amazing pets.
14. I don't always like myself, but I do always love myself.
15. Telling someone you love them, or hearing them say they love you (even as just a friend), can sometimes be the best thing you or they will ever hear.
16. Forrest Gump's mother was perhaps the wisest woman that ever lived.
17. Self-respect is emotionally priceless. Self-loathing is emotionally expensive.
18. You're never really over the loss of a loved one until you actually tell them "goodbye".
19. Sometimes, you just need to shut up take your medication.
20. Yes, men do cry, and if it bothers someone - tough.
21. Movie critics are the worst people to listen to when deciding which movie to watch.
22. I.Q. is a pointless measurement. People with high I.Q's can be some of the most idiotic people on the planet.
23. "Just" one more never happens when you're an addict.
24. Chiropractors are the best doctors that have ever existed.
25. Sometimes the person you trust the most in your life will be the first one to betray you.
26. You should ALWAYS have a friend who is a mechanic.
And perhaps the most important:
27. I'm allowed to not be perfect.
Quite a list, wouldn't you say? Some of these may seem pretty obvious to anyone who chooses to read them, and perhaps they are, but I'm a stubborn man, and I think it took the events of 2010 to finally drill each one of them into my head. I hope that 2011 can teach me just as much, though I also hope it can do so a little less harshly.
Happy New Year!
Sitting here at my computer, I've been contemplating the vision that was 2010. So much to experience, in just the blink of an eye. Another chapter has been added to the story of my life, and a full one at that. Each year teaches us new lessons, but I can't say any other year has taught me as much as this one. I was listening to a friend's music show last night, and one of the members in the chat room posed the question: What did you learn in 2010? It was quite a loaded question, and while I provided a brief answer, I spent the rest of the show thinking about it and knowing that I couldn't possibly summarize 2010 in a simple, one-sentence response. Trying to do so would be like writing a one-page book report on War and Peace. (As a side note, I would NOT recommend reading that book.) Since I enjoy writing so much, I figured the best way for me to understand what happened this past year is to make a list. Not a list of actual events, mind you, but rather a list of what I learned.
1. People are who they are, and any attempt to change them is a worthless endeavor.
2. True friendships don't fulfill your wants; they fulfill your needs.
3. Proclaiming one's strengths takes far less courage than admitting one's weaknesses.
4. You can't set the expectations for your own life in terms of another person's life.
5. You'll never make everyone else happy, despite your greatest efforts.
6. It's okay to put yourself first.
7. Your job is never worth your health.
8. God DOES give you more than you can handle, but He also gives you friends to help carry the load.
9. Life really IS black and white. Dealing in "grays" is just a way to avoid searching for the real answer.
10. The only problem with humanity is humans.
11. Politicians are like professional sports players - overpaid and underperforming.
12. Others' actions are out of our control; our reactions are completely under our control.
13. Cats really are amazing pets.
14. I don't always like myself, but I do always love myself.
15. Telling someone you love them, or hearing them say they love you (even as just a friend), can sometimes be the best thing you or they will ever hear.
16. Forrest Gump's mother was perhaps the wisest woman that ever lived.
17. Self-respect is emotionally priceless. Self-loathing is emotionally expensive.
18. You're never really over the loss of a loved one until you actually tell them "goodbye".
19. Sometimes, you just need to shut up take your medication.
20. Yes, men do cry, and if it bothers someone - tough.
21. Movie critics are the worst people to listen to when deciding which movie to watch.
22. I.Q. is a pointless measurement. People with high I.Q's can be some of the most idiotic people on the planet.
23. "Just" one more never happens when you're an addict.
24. Chiropractors are the best doctors that have ever existed.
25. Sometimes the person you trust the most in your life will be the first one to betray you.
26. You should ALWAYS have a friend who is a mechanic.
And perhaps the most important:
27. I'm allowed to not be perfect.
Quite a list, wouldn't you say? Some of these may seem pretty obvious to anyone who chooses to read them, and perhaps they are, but I'm a stubborn man, and I think it took the events of 2010 to finally drill each one of them into my head. I hope that 2011 can teach me just as much, though I also hope it can do so a little less harshly.
Happy New Year!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
A Brief Shining Moment
Before a star collapses, it swells up to several times its normal size, then in a massive explosion, it's reduced to a black hole, devoid of all matter and light. That's kind of how I felt yesterday.
For the last two weeks, I've been working. It was a great feeling; being back in the workforce made me feel alive again. It was through a temp agency, but I was told that the position had the opportunity to grow into a full-time position. Finally, after weeks of searching and countless resume submissions, I thought I'd found the right job.
The people were amazing. Though I'd only just started, everyone there treated me like I'd been there for years. All of them were pleasant and willing to help me out as I struggled through the training process. The work itself was even better; I was finally doing exactly what I liked - accounting. While some people find numbers and reports mind-numbing and tedious, I love them. It's what I'm good at. The last two weeks lifted my spirits more than they had been for a long time. But alas, it wasn't meant to be.
Late in the morning yesterday, I was approached by the accounting manager who informed me that, instead of hiring me, they were going to do an internal transfer. The individual they'd chosen, not surprisingly, had a degree. I won't lie; I was devastated. Here I was on cloud nine, feeling that everything was getting back to normal. But the cloud dissipated, and I fell back to earth - hard. I struggled to maintain my composure as she explained the situation to me, but the only thing going through my mind at that moment was "damn you". How could this have happened? I worked so hard the last two weeks, and learned every task they taught me. Even the woman who trained me told me again and again how well I was doing. Foolishly, I'd convinced myself that I had the job. To realize in that instant that it was all for naught was very upsetting.
The drive home last night was somber. I fought to keep my mind on the road as I weaved in and out through the incessant waves of traffic. I wondered what I'd done wrong. They saw everything of which I was capable, and still decided not to hire me. What was wrong with me? I hated to think that I wasn't good enough. I started having the self-doubts that I fought against so hard when I first lost my job. It's amazing how quickly a person regresses to their old habits when something bad happens. Kind of like trying to quit smoking...
My feelings then turned to anger. I was furious at this company for putting through so much. Two weeks I spent laboring at their facility, trying desperately to prove myself to them in the hopes that they'd want to hire me. Looking back, I could've spent those two weeks searching for a job that actually went somewhere. Before I took the position, there was another job opening in another town for which I was waiting for a call back from the temp agency. They'd already sent my resume. But when this opportunity came up, I jumped on it. I couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if I took that job instead. I guess I'll never know the answer to that question, because that job is no longer available.
Then there's the unemployment issue. After working for two weeks, my benefits are suspended. Going through the hassle of applying once was bad enough; now I have to do it again. And even worse, I have to wait the standard two-week period before I can get benefits again. On top of the mental and emotional blow of not getting the job, I now had financial concerns to worry about. Of course, I always worry about that, especially on such a small income afforded by unemployment, but now I have to plan ahead to survive through that period again.
I vented my frustrations on Facebook for a while, and even punched a couple walls in my apartment, leaving a bit of a dent in one of them. (Nice, there goes part of my security deposit.) I felt useless again, like I was once again a statistic and could make no contribution with my life. It may sound extreme, but those who've been through unemployment know what I mean. I have to work if I'm going to feel whole, whether it's for a company or for myself. The novelty of being home all day by myself has worn off fast. Some days I just leave the house and walk for hours, just so I don't have to sit there pondering about the uncertainty of my future. For a while last evening, I hated my life, and I hated myself. My brief shining moment had ended, and I was back at square one.
But after several hours of venting, cursing, and feeling hateful and rejected, something changed. I don't know if it was the pills I'm on, or the good advice of my friends on Facebook and texting me on my phone, but I realized that this is just another learning experience. It's a difficult one, to say the least, but sometimes necessary. I can't always have everything I want. No one goes through their entire life constantly winning. I have to lose once in a while, no matter how hard or painful it might be.
I also know that just because it was a good job for me, it doesn't mean it was the best job for me. Maybe God had to give me a little taste of what's out there, not so I could start working right away, but to renew my search and assure me that I'm on the right track. I do still like accounting, and after this two-week refresher, I'm even more certain of it, and I'm convinced to try even harder to find the right place for me - if it's even possible to try harder; I've been a resume-sending machine!
I'm not really sure if anything in life goes 100% as planned. Bumps and hiccups, setbacks and disappointments, failures and frustrations - they're all a part of life. But as I've been told by countless people, it's how we deal with those situations that makes us who we are. I'm still figuring that out as well, but I do know what I'm not - I'm not a quitter. I'm not going to be a victim of circumstance and believe that my life is decided by the events around me. If I want to be happy, only I can make it happen, and sitting on my backside lamenting over the disappointments in my life just won't get it done. I'm better than that. I'm stronger than that.
Ok, time to start applying for jobs again. Either that or write my next English paper. Nah, looking for a job is still more fun than that.
For the last two weeks, I've been working. It was a great feeling; being back in the workforce made me feel alive again. It was through a temp agency, but I was told that the position had the opportunity to grow into a full-time position. Finally, after weeks of searching and countless resume submissions, I thought I'd found the right job.
The people were amazing. Though I'd only just started, everyone there treated me like I'd been there for years. All of them were pleasant and willing to help me out as I struggled through the training process. The work itself was even better; I was finally doing exactly what I liked - accounting. While some people find numbers and reports mind-numbing and tedious, I love them. It's what I'm good at. The last two weeks lifted my spirits more than they had been for a long time. But alas, it wasn't meant to be.
Late in the morning yesterday, I was approached by the accounting manager who informed me that, instead of hiring me, they were going to do an internal transfer. The individual they'd chosen, not surprisingly, had a degree. I won't lie; I was devastated. Here I was on cloud nine, feeling that everything was getting back to normal. But the cloud dissipated, and I fell back to earth - hard. I struggled to maintain my composure as she explained the situation to me, but the only thing going through my mind at that moment was "damn you". How could this have happened? I worked so hard the last two weeks, and learned every task they taught me. Even the woman who trained me told me again and again how well I was doing. Foolishly, I'd convinced myself that I had the job. To realize in that instant that it was all for naught was very upsetting.
The drive home last night was somber. I fought to keep my mind on the road as I weaved in and out through the incessant waves of traffic. I wondered what I'd done wrong. They saw everything of which I was capable, and still decided not to hire me. What was wrong with me? I hated to think that I wasn't good enough. I started having the self-doubts that I fought against so hard when I first lost my job. It's amazing how quickly a person regresses to their old habits when something bad happens. Kind of like trying to quit smoking...
My feelings then turned to anger. I was furious at this company for putting through so much. Two weeks I spent laboring at their facility, trying desperately to prove myself to them in the hopes that they'd want to hire me. Looking back, I could've spent those two weeks searching for a job that actually went somewhere. Before I took the position, there was another job opening in another town for which I was waiting for a call back from the temp agency. They'd already sent my resume. But when this opportunity came up, I jumped on it. I couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if I took that job instead. I guess I'll never know the answer to that question, because that job is no longer available.
Then there's the unemployment issue. After working for two weeks, my benefits are suspended. Going through the hassle of applying once was bad enough; now I have to do it again. And even worse, I have to wait the standard two-week period before I can get benefits again. On top of the mental and emotional blow of not getting the job, I now had financial concerns to worry about. Of course, I always worry about that, especially on such a small income afforded by unemployment, but now I have to plan ahead to survive through that period again.
I vented my frustrations on Facebook for a while, and even punched a couple walls in my apartment, leaving a bit of a dent in one of them. (Nice, there goes part of my security deposit.) I felt useless again, like I was once again a statistic and could make no contribution with my life. It may sound extreme, but those who've been through unemployment know what I mean. I have to work if I'm going to feel whole, whether it's for a company or for myself. The novelty of being home all day by myself has worn off fast. Some days I just leave the house and walk for hours, just so I don't have to sit there pondering about the uncertainty of my future. For a while last evening, I hated my life, and I hated myself. My brief shining moment had ended, and I was back at square one.
But after several hours of venting, cursing, and feeling hateful and rejected, something changed. I don't know if it was the pills I'm on, or the good advice of my friends on Facebook and texting me on my phone, but I realized that this is just another learning experience. It's a difficult one, to say the least, but sometimes necessary. I can't always have everything I want. No one goes through their entire life constantly winning. I have to lose once in a while, no matter how hard or painful it might be.
I also know that just because it was a good job for me, it doesn't mean it was the best job for me. Maybe God had to give me a little taste of what's out there, not so I could start working right away, but to renew my search and assure me that I'm on the right track. I do still like accounting, and after this two-week refresher, I'm even more certain of it, and I'm convinced to try even harder to find the right place for me - if it's even possible to try harder; I've been a resume-sending machine!
I'm not really sure if anything in life goes 100% as planned. Bumps and hiccups, setbacks and disappointments, failures and frustrations - they're all a part of life. But as I've been told by countless people, it's how we deal with those situations that makes us who we are. I'm still figuring that out as well, but I do know what I'm not - I'm not a quitter. I'm not going to be a victim of circumstance and believe that my life is decided by the events around me. If I want to be happy, only I can make it happen, and sitting on my backside lamenting over the disappointments in my life just won't get it done. I'm better than that. I'm stronger than that.
Ok, time to start applying for jobs again. Either that or write my next English paper. Nah, looking for a job is still more fun than that.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Who's Really to Blame?
In the current economy, people seem unwilling to accept responsibility for their own actions. Almost no other issue proves this more than sub-prime mortgages and the resulting housing crash.
Political ads on television are repeatedly pointing the finger at candidates and their involvement in sub-prime mortgages. In truth, these individuals do have a responsibility to consumers which they neglected. They knew these loans were being given to unqualified persons. For that, they definitely played a key role in the fall of our economy. However, those who accepted these loans and bought these houses are also at fault, and no one seems willing to admit that.
While searching for an apartment three years ago, the options seemed endless. Beautiful three-bedroom, two-bath domiciles with the latest technology and appliances, new carpeting, stylish furnishings, patios and decks suitable for Trump-esque parties - there were so many to choose from. I was quickly drawn in by the lure of smooth-talking real estate agents and overzealous landlords who couldn't wait for me to sign their leases, and during the initial stages of my search, I was almost convinced that I could afford one of these apartment "mansions". But I had something that it seems many other so-called "victims" of the housing market don't have: common sense.
Maybe ten minutes. That's all it took for me to sit down and analyze my financial situation. How much did I make, how much were my regular expenses, and how much did the apartments cost? Simple, straightforward questions. It didn't take a genius to figure out that most of these residences were WAY out of my league. So, I did what I believe other people need to learn; I settled for what I could afford. I didn't need oakwood cabinets and marble counter tops. I didn't need three bedrooms when I lived by myself. Vaulted ceilings and designer amenities were well beyond my means. I needed a place to live, comfortably and affordably. And guess what? I found it. Even now that I'm unemployed, I'm still able to support myself, though I've cut back on a few luxuries to do so. And more importantly, I didn't let someone else talk me into a decision that wasn't in my best interest. So, back to my point.
Of all these people that want to blame politicians and bad business practices for their current situation, how many of them take the time to consider what mistakes they made? Did any of them sit down and ask themselves those questions I posed earlier? There are far too many home buyers who just can't afford the house they've chosen. Period. Why do people insist on living beyond their means? As human beings, we all want the finer things in life, but if they're simply out of our reach, we have to accept it as reality. Entering into an agreement you know is not in your best financial interest is foolish and idiotic.
Of course, according to the media, we can't expect these people to shoulder the blame for their own poor decisions. No, it's the banks, mortgage brokers, real estate agents, and government. Yes, as I mentioned, those people did have a part in this. Assuming they had a basic understanding of budgets and finances, they should've known that some of these individuals weren't able to afford the homes they were buying. In my opinion, disregarding that knowledge is immoral and unscrupulous. However, why is no one pointing the finger at the consumers? If they bought these homes knowing they were too expensive, are they really victims, as the media and politicians would have us believe? I tend to think not. They are just as guilty as the people who talked them into it, but there lies another issue.
Salespeople can be very tricky and convincing, but it is up to us as consumers to know what we can and can't afford, and act accordingly. If you allow someone to trick you into a deal that is detrimental to you, and it falls apart, it's just as much your own responsibility. But no one wants to say that. "It's not your fault; they tricked you." Well, you can only be fooled if you allow it to happen. While I haven't purchased a home, I have made wrong decisions under the advisement and smooth-talk of other people, and I've payed the consequences for it. But I'm not about to place all the blame on those people; I allowed myself to be duped. I don't expect compensation for someone else's misdeeds when I'm the fool who fell for their act, and I don't expect my friends, family, the government, or any other authoritative body to save me from my own stupidity.
Now, that being said, there are certainly people who've suffered unfortunate and unexpected occurrences in their lives: families that have lost the main bread-winner due to death or other tragedies, insanely high medical bills due to unforeseen illness, losing jobs. Those people may very well have been living within their means, and are now forced into foreclosures or evictions because their financial status changed so drastically. I can't fault all these people for something that is beyond their control. But these people, honestly, are the victims of life in general, not necessarily victims of the housing crisis; they may be in these positions even if the economy was doing well. Even in these unfortunate circumstances, however, I wonder what these people are doing to reassess and change their lives based on their new budgets.
When I lost my job a little over a month ago, my first decision was to start cutting back. No more expanded cable, no more long distance phone line, no more eating out every day, even something as simple as writing on both sides of a paper instead of just scratching a single line on one side and throwing out the paper later. I knew my situation had changed, and I had to change with it. I don't doubt that many of the victims I mentioned earlier have made some changes, but how much and how many? If you have a satellite cable bill that costs you $200 a month when you can get expanded basic cable for $50 a month, do you really have a reason to complain about not being able to pay your mortgage? If you take your family to dinner every night of the week - and let's face it, these days that adds up fast - should you be moaning about how much your rent is? Tragedy strikes all of us at some point in life, and adjusting to it afterward is difficult, but that's life, isn't it? Yes, it SUCKS sometimes, but blaming society or big business for your situation, and waiting for them to fix it, will get nowhere. I know it's not easy; I've been through it before, and am dealing with it now. But I've made the tough decisions and cutbacks that were necessary to survive. Those who have made those decisions and sacrifices and are still struggling have my sympathy. Those who insist on living "high on the hog", despite their inability to do so financially, have my contempt.
When we make a bad choice, it's human nature to not want to admit fault. We want to think that we're more intelligent than that, and that any bad things that happen are the result of someone else's actions. The sub-prime mortgage crisis (and the recent campaign ads) are a good example. But we also have to accept our responsibility to ourselves. We can't purchase homes and condos that we know are well out of our range. We can't allow ourselves to be tricked by unscrupulous salespeople. We can't have our financial situation change, and expect our standard of living won't change with it. Buying a home is perhaps the biggest investment decision a person or family can make. It can't be done overnight or without careful analysis of one's finances. The economy is bad, really bad. There are real victims of the economy out there. But I don't place all the blame on politics and business; I also blame the individuals who didn't use their common sense in the beginning, before any of this happened. They, too, had a part in making their lives what they are now, and they need to accept responsibility for it.
Political ads on television are repeatedly pointing the finger at candidates and their involvement in sub-prime mortgages. In truth, these individuals do have a responsibility to consumers which they neglected. They knew these loans were being given to unqualified persons. For that, they definitely played a key role in the fall of our economy. However, those who accepted these loans and bought these houses are also at fault, and no one seems willing to admit that.
While searching for an apartment three years ago, the options seemed endless. Beautiful three-bedroom, two-bath domiciles with the latest technology and appliances, new carpeting, stylish furnishings, patios and decks suitable for Trump-esque parties - there were so many to choose from. I was quickly drawn in by the lure of smooth-talking real estate agents and overzealous landlords who couldn't wait for me to sign their leases, and during the initial stages of my search, I was almost convinced that I could afford one of these apartment "mansions". But I had something that it seems many other so-called "victims" of the housing market don't have: common sense.
Maybe ten minutes. That's all it took for me to sit down and analyze my financial situation. How much did I make, how much were my regular expenses, and how much did the apartments cost? Simple, straightforward questions. It didn't take a genius to figure out that most of these residences were WAY out of my league. So, I did what I believe other people need to learn; I settled for what I could afford. I didn't need oakwood cabinets and marble counter tops. I didn't need three bedrooms when I lived by myself. Vaulted ceilings and designer amenities were well beyond my means. I needed a place to live, comfortably and affordably. And guess what? I found it. Even now that I'm unemployed, I'm still able to support myself, though I've cut back on a few luxuries to do so. And more importantly, I didn't let someone else talk me into a decision that wasn't in my best interest. So, back to my point.
Of all these people that want to blame politicians and bad business practices for their current situation, how many of them take the time to consider what mistakes they made? Did any of them sit down and ask themselves those questions I posed earlier? There are far too many home buyers who just can't afford the house they've chosen. Period. Why do people insist on living beyond their means? As human beings, we all want the finer things in life, but if they're simply out of our reach, we have to accept it as reality. Entering into an agreement you know is not in your best financial interest is foolish and idiotic.
Of course, according to the media, we can't expect these people to shoulder the blame for their own poor decisions. No, it's the banks, mortgage brokers, real estate agents, and government. Yes, as I mentioned, those people did have a part in this. Assuming they had a basic understanding of budgets and finances, they should've known that some of these individuals weren't able to afford the homes they were buying. In my opinion, disregarding that knowledge is immoral and unscrupulous. However, why is no one pointing the finger at the consumers? If they bought these homes knowing they were too expensive, are they really victims, as the media and politicians would have us believe? I tend to think not. They are just as guilty as the people who talked them into it, but there lies another issue.
Salespeople can be very tricky and convincing, but it is up to us as consumers to know what we can and can't afford, and act accordingly. If you allow someone to trick you into a deal that is detrimental to you, and it falls apart, it's just as much your own responsibility. But no one wants to say that. "It's not your fault; they tricked you." Well, you can only be fooled if you allow it to happen. While I haven't purchased a home, I have made wrong decisions under the advisement and smooth-talk of other people, and I've payed the consequences for it. But I'm not about to place all the blame on those people; I allowed myself to be duped. I don't expect compensation for someone else's misdeeds when I'm the fool who fell for their act, and I don't expect my friends, family, the government, or any other authoritative body to save me from my own stupidity.
Now, that being said, there are certainly people who've suffered unfortunate and unexpected occurrences in their lives: families that have lost the main bread-winner due to death or other tragedies, insanely high medical bills due to unforeseen illness, losing jobs. Those people may very well have been living within their means, and are now forced into foreclosures or evictions because their financial status changed so drastically. I can't fault all these people for something that is beyond their control. But these people, honestly, are the victims of life in general, not necessarily victims of the housing crisis; they may be in these positions even if the economy was doing well. Even in these unfortunate circumstances, however, I wonder what these people are doing to reassess and change their lives based on their new budgets.
When I lost my job a little over a month ago, my first decision was to start cutting back. No more expanded cable, no more long distance phone line, no more eating out every day, even something as simple as writing on both sides of a paper instead of just scratching a single line on one side and throwing out the paper later. I knew my situation had changed, and I had to change with it. I don't doubt that many of the victims I mentioned earlier have made some changes, but how much and how many? If you have a satellite cable bill that costs you $200 a month when you can get expanded basic cable for $50 a month, do you really have a reason to complain about not being able to pay your mortgage? If you take your family to dinner every night of the week - and let's face it, these days that adds up fast - should you be moaning about how much your rent is? Tragedy strikes all of us at some point in life, and adjusting to it afterward is difficult, but that's life, isn't it? Yes, it SUCKS sometimes, but blaming society or big business for your situation, and waiting for them to fix it, will get nowhere. I know it's not easy; I've been through it before, and am dealing with it now. But I've made the tough decisions and cutbacks that were necessary to survive. Those who have made those decisions and sacrifices and are still struggling have my sympathy. Those who insist on living "high on the hog", despite their inability to do so financially, have my contempt.
When we make a bad choice, it's human nature to not want to admit fault. We want to think that we're more intelligent than that, and that any bad things that happen are the result of someone else's actions. The sub-prime mortgage crisis (and the recent campaign ads) are a good example. But we also have to accept our responsibility to ourselves. We can't purchase homes and condos that we know are well out of our range. We can't allow ourselves to be tricked by unscrupulous salespeople. We can't have our financial situation change, and expect our standard of living won't change with it. Buying a home is perhaps the biggest investment decision a person or family can make. It can't be done overnight or without careful analysis of one's finances. The economy is bad, really bad. There are real victims of the economy out there. But I don't place all the blame on politics and business; I also blame the individuals who didn't use their common sense in the beginning, before any of this happened. They, too, had a part in making their lives what they are now, and they need to accept responsibility for it.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Kids These Days
I was outside talking to one of my neighbors, engaged in the usual banter: the weather, the economy, a little about our personal lives, most of the topics that sprinkle everyday conversation. Our discussion was cut short, however, by the piercing shouts of several neighborhood girls, apparently in the middle of a heated argument. The fact that they were carrying on in such a manner in public was bad enough, but I was absolutely appalled at what they were saying. The vulgarities spewing forth from their disgusting mouths were enough to make Howard Stern and Sam Kinnison blush. F-bombs, c-words, b-words, whore, slut, even a few n-words were uttered. It was unbelievable to hear these girls, who couldn't have been more than 14 or 15, shouting such vile obscenities. While I stood in shock and disbelief, one of my neighbors, who had a young daughter within earshot of this nastiness, spoke up and advised the girls to watch their language, which was replied to with a blunt "F-you." It was disgusting.
I wonder when it was that such language became an acceptable form of communication among youth. As adults, we've all unfortunately had our moments when our word choices have been less than pleasant. We still spout the occasional s-word or b-word. Even as children we cursed, though we usually would silence ourselves after the first utterance and look around, hoping to God that no one heard us. Living in a small town, we knew it wouldn't take long for someone to report back to our parents about our bad behavior, and we also knew the punishment that awaited us when they found out. But these girls went far beyond anything I've ever heard in my life. No joke. It was the crudest, foulest exchange I've had the displeasure of hearing, surpassing even the worst obscenity laden dialogue on Jerry Springer or Jay and Silent Bob movies. Just horrible.
So, back to my point: When did this become acceptable? When did children lose that subconscious voice that told them not to do that? When I was younger, even in the absence of my parents, every choice I made would be prefaced with "what would my parents think?" In moments of anger, I still make that unnecessary mistake, but these were CHILDREN!! Does the youth of America not possess that internal sensor anymore? Even now, remembering their conversation, I still have a hard time believing it actually happened. Do they think it's cool, that it's appropriate to talk that way? I must really be out of touch with the times.
I worry also that their attitude stems from lacking the parental guidance we had. I know parents who use such language in front of their children, and it astounds me. Growing up, my parents would never have considered talking that way. Sure, when I got older, they were able to "cut loose" once in a while because they weren't as worried about influencing me anymore; after all, I was an adult. But even then, their language was never that atrocious. As my father sometimes says: "They wouldn't say s--- even if they had a mouthful of it." I wonder what these kids' parents talk like, and if they even reprimand their children for such behavior.
I then considered the more likely possibility that these girls just don't even think about what they're saying. Such inappropriate words have become part of their everyday speech, as second nature and inconsequential as my discussion with my neighbors about the weather. It was this consideration that really hit me.
What about me? Have I become so inoculated against that language? Yes, I know inoculated is generally used in reference to vaccinations, but when you think about it, letting such vulgarities become part of one's everyday lexicon is, in some small way, an infectious disease. Spend a few days with someone who talks like that, and see if your vocabulary isn't adversely affected. I don't think I speak so rudely or disgustingly. I do have a sick sense of humor, but have I ever been so obscene and nasty in public? I started analyzing my own vocabulary, and realized that, while I certainly don't talk quite so inappropriately, I haven't really thought about the way I speak. I definitely notice it when young children talk that way, and the way I think about them is certainly not how I'd want others to perceive me...especially now when I'm looking for a job, and am likely under constant scrutiny by potential employers. (After all, employers make it a habit to check social sites like Facebook when screening candidates, for those who aren't aware.)
So perhaps some good came from this unpleasant encounter; I reconsidered my own attitude and use (or misuse) of the English language. I think I need to make sure I monitor myself as well, or my commentary about other people's activities would be rendered meaningless. I can't say I'll never swear again, but I'll certainly be more aware of it and do my best to stifle it. If I see these girls again, I'll have to say: "Thank you. Your disgusting display of disrespect, vulgarity, and lack of inhibition has definitely made me want to be a better person...now fudge off."
I wonder when it was that such language became an acceptable form of communication among youth. As adults, we've all unfortunately had our moments when our word choices have been less than pleasant. We still spout the occasional s-word or b-word. Even as children we cursed, though we usually would silence ourselves after the first utterance and look around, hoping to God that no one heard us. Living in a small town, we knew it wouldn't take long for someone to report back to our parents about our bad behavior, and we also knew the punishment that awaited us when they found out. But these girls went far beyond anything I've ever heard in my life. No joke. It was the crudest, foulest exchange I've had the displeasure of hearing, surpassing even the worst obscenity laden dialogue on Jerry Springer or Jay and Silent Bob movies. Just horrible.
So, back to my point: When did this become acceptable? When did children lose that subconscious voice that told them not to do that? When I was younger, even in the absence of my parents, every choice I made would be prefaced with "what would my parents think?" In moments of anger, I still make that unnecessary mistake, but these were CHILDREN!! Does the youth of America not possess that internal sensor anymore? Even now, remembering their conversation, I still have a hard time believing it actually happened. Do they think it's cool, that it's appropriate to talk that way? I must really be out of touch with the times.
I worry also that their attitude stems from lacking the parental guidance we had. I know parents who use such language in front of their children, and it astounds me. Growing up, my parents would never have considered talking that way. Sure, when I got older, they were able to "cut loose" once in a while because they weren't as worried about influencing me anymore; after all, I was an adult. But even then, their language was never that atrocious. As my father sometimes says: "They wouldn't say s--- even if they had a mouthful of it." I wonder what these kids' parents talk like, and if they even reprimand their children for such behavior.
I then considered the more likely possibility that these girls just don't even think about what they're saying. Such inappropriate words have become part of their everyday speech, as second nature and inconsequential as my discussion with my neighbors about the weather. It was this consideration that really hit me.
What about me? Have I become so inoculated against that language? Yes, I know inoculated is generally used in reference to vaccinations, but when you think about it, letting such vulgarities become part of one's everyday lexicon is, in some small way, an infectious disease. Spend a few days with someone who talks like that, and see if your vocabulary isn't adversely affected. I don't think I speak so rudely or disgustingly. I do have a sick sense of humor, but have I ever been so obscene and nasty in public? I started analyzing my own vocabulary, and realized that, while I certainly don't talk quite so inappropriately, I haven't really thought about the way I speak. I definitely notice it when young children talk that way, and the way I think about them is certainly not how I'd want others to perceive me...especially now when I'm looking for a job, and am likely under constant scrutiny by potential employers. (After all, employers make it a habit to check social sites like Facebook when screening candidates, for those who aren't aware.)
So perhaps some good came from this unpleasant encounter; I reconsidered my own attitude and use (or misuse) of the English language. I think I need to make sure I monitor myself as well, or my commentary about other people's activities would be rendered meaningless. I can't say I'll never swear again, but I'll certainly be more aware of it and do my best to stifle it. If I see these girls again, I'll have to say: "Thank you. Your disgusting display of disrespect, vulgarity, and lack of inhibition has definitely made me want to be a better person...now fudge off."
Relapse
Last night while driving to class with a friend, I saw a young man smoking a cigarette in the school parking lot. I groaned and said, "Ooooh, cigarette," to which my friend replied "You don't want that. They're yucky!" We both laughed and went on with the evening, and I'm sure my friend just took it as a joke. But in truth, if he hadn't been there to talk me out of it, I think I would've walked up to the student and asked for one. Life has been difficult lately, and now I'm faced again with an affliction that I had hoped would never resurface.
Boredom and stress. That's a pretty effective summary of life lately. Countless hours watching mundane new shows, sitcom reruns, and talk shows; cleaning my apartment with a Monk-like obsession; walking endlessly up and down the streets of my neighborhood, only to return to the same place. I've gone to the park, I've visited friends, whatever I can do to alleviate my despair and anxiety without spending an insane amount of money which I clearly don't have. A movie at the theater costs $10.00, an amount which seems petty, but when combined with the cost of gas (and the fact that I usually go alone), is just too great an expense for too little enjoyment. School work keeps me busy for a while, but you can only reread a text so many times until the words just become a jumbled mass of nonsense and you lose interest. Boredom, along with the stress of being unemployed, can be a dangerous combination for someone with an addiction, and I am not immune to those effects.
I was a smoker. A very heavy smoker, in fact. I could go through two or three packs of cigarettes like a lawn mower cutting down weeds. There was no particular purpose for it. Even on my good days, I had to light one up. It became part of my identity: Joshua Nolan, single, accountant, intelligent, smoker (though the last two would seem to contradict each other). It took nearly a dozen tries before I was able to quit about three years ago. I remember the relief I felt when I finally walked away from that habit, and aside from a couple of small slip-ups, I was free of the addiction...until recently.
My previous blog mentioned the effects that unemployment has had on me. Desperation, lack of confidence, lethargy - all of them keep going in cycles, and grow more intense with each attempt and subsequent rejection. Along with all that, the inability to do most of the things I enjoy (mostly due to cost), have left me with few options to keep myself out of this fog. At some point, a person will try anything to just break up the monotony and to relieve some of the stress. And in trying to keep myself occupied and avoid these feelings of worthlessness, I find I'm slipping up again.
Whenever anyone quits something as addictive as cigarettes, it's inevitable that they will occasionally have that urge, that craving that permeates the entire mind and body. I experienced those feelings several times, and was always able to fight them off. But now, the desire is almost unbearable. I don't know why now, of all times, I'd feel the need to start smoking again. Lord knows it's certainly not helpful for my financial situation, and the health effects are even worse.
But I won't lie; in recent months, I've indulged in that addiction more than once. Despite conquering this disease after so many attempts, and being so proud of myself back then, I find myself once again drawn to the feeling of calm and relaxation when I light up a cigarette. I can't say for sure what moment reignited my affliction; there have been many ups and downs in my life over the past year. But somehow, when I wasn't paying attention, I fell back into this habit. I haven't reached the level of chain-smoking like I did when I quit the last time, but I know I will if I don't stop soon.
I'm disappointed in myself, as I should be, and I'm sure several other people are. The pride I felt at kicking this habit is now gone. Instead of the comfort I was seeking, I've found more reason to dislike myself. I hate feeling weak, but realizing that I'm susceptible to such indiscretion and foolishness proves that I am. Sadly, that disappointment makes me want to smoke more, but I can't. I have to stop it now, before I end up back where I was. Smoking is a nasty, unhealthy, expensive, dangerous habit, and I won't risk ruining everything for which I fought so hard. I just hope those who know me can understand my weakness, and bear with me as I try yet again to defeat it. I certainly don't need to be chastised or berated. That only makes my self-loathing worse.
Boredom and stress certainly had their roles in my relapse, but I think another problem exists: complacency. When we fight an addiction, and succeed, we become comfortable with thinking that it's all over. As we continue with our lives, we don't suspect that those afflictions will affect us again. We're all better now. We forget about the demons that once controlled our lives...but they don't forget about us. It only takes one sip, one puff, or one roll of the dice to reawaken those monsters. And we're forced to begin the struggle all over again. Though I'd taken the occasional drag during moments of high stress, I still deluded myself into thinking that I was fine. I could control my cravings, and just indulging once wouldn't hurt me. I couldn't have been more wrong. Hopefully, with God's help and the support of my friends, I'll be able to stop again, before it's too late.
Boredom and stress. That's a pretty effective summary of life lately. Countless hours watching mundane new shows, sitcom reruns, and talk shows; cleaning my apartment with a Monk-like obsession; walking endlessly up and down the streets of my neighborhood, only to return to the same place. I've gone to the park, I've visited friends, whatever I can do to alleviate my despair and anxiety without spending an insane amount of money which I clearly don't have. A movie at the theater costs $10.00, an amount which seems petty, but when combined with the cost of gas (and the fact that I usually go alone), is just too great an expense for too little enjoyment. School work keeps me busy for a while, but you can only reread a text so many times until the words just become a jumbled mass of nonsense and you lose interest. Boredom, along with the stress of being unemployed, can be a dangerous combination for someone with an addiction, and I am not immune to those effects.
I was a smoker. A very heavy smoker, in fact. I could go through two or three packs of cigarettes like a lawn mower cutting down weeds. There was no particular purpose for it. Even on my good days, I had to light one up. It became part of my identity: Joshua Nolan, single, accountant, intelligent, smoker (though the last two would seem to contradict each other). It took nearly a dozen tries before I was able to quit about three years ago. I remember the relief I felt when I finally walked away from that habit, and aside from a couple of small slip-ups, I was free of the addiction...until recently.
My previous blog mentioned the effects that unemployment has had on me. Desperation, lack of confidence, lethargy - all of them keep going in cycles, and grow more intense with each attempt and subsequent rejection. Along with all that, the inability to do most of the things I enjoy (mostly due to cost), have left me with few options to keep myself out of this fog. At some point, a person will try anything to just break up the monotony and to relieve some of the stress. And in trying to keep myself occupied and avoid these feelings of worthlessness, I find I'm slipping up again.
Whenever anyone quits something as addictive as cigarettes, it's inevitable that they will occasionally have that urge, that craving that permeates the entire mind and body. I experienced those feelings several times, and was always able to fight them off. But now, the desire is almost unbearable. I don't know why now, of all times, I'd feel the need to start smoking again. Lord knows it's certainly not helpful for my financial situation, and the health effects are even worse.
But I won't lie; in recent months, I've indulged in that addiction more than once. Despite conquering this disease after so many attempts, and being so proud of myself back then, I find myself once again drawn to the feeling of calm and relaxation when I light up a cigarette. I can't say for sure what moment reignited my affliction; there have been many ups and downs in my life over the past year. But somehow, when I wasn't paying attention, I fell back into this habit. I haven't reached the level of chain-smoking like I did when I quit the last time, but I know I will if I don't stop soon.
I'm disappointed in myself, as I should be, and I'm sure several other people are. The pride I felt at kicking this habit is now gone. Instead of the comfort I was seeking, I've found more reason to dislike myself. I hate feeling weak, but realizing that I'm susceptible to such indiscretion and foolishness proves that I am. Sadly, that disappointment makes me want to smoke more, but I can't. I have to stop it now, before I end up back where I was. Smoking is a nasty, unhealthy, expensive, dangerous habit, and I won't risk ruining everything for which I fought so hard. I just hope those who know me can understand my weakness, and bear with me as I try yet again to defeat it. I certainly don't need to be chastised or berated. That only makes my self-loathing worse.
Boredom and stress certainly had their roles in my relapse, but I think another problem exists: complacency. When we fight an addiction, and succeed, we become comfortable with thinking that it's all over. As we continue with our lives, we don't suspect that those afflictions will affect us again. We're all better now. We forget about the demons that once controlled our lives...but they don't forget about us. It only takes one sip, one puff, or one roll of the dice to reawaken those monsters. And we're forced to begin the struggle all over again. Though I'd taken the occasional drag during moments of high stress, I still deluded myself into thinking that I was fine. I could control my cravings, and just indulging once wouldn't hurt me. I couldn't have been more wrong. Hopefully, with God's help and the support of my friends, I'll be able to stop again, before it's too late.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Visiting an Old Friend
Outside running errands today, I decided to make a stop to see my mother. It had been a while since I spoke to her, and figured that I should take a moment to spend some time with her. Turning down the street toward where she now resides, I felt apprehension and a bit of sadness. I've talked to her my entire life, but the more recent conversations have been one-sided. She doesn't answer when I speak, and doesn't offer advice like she used to. Hers is not a home of fine curtains and family photos hanging on the wall; it is one of earth and grass.
My mother has been gone for over four years now. She lost her battle with cancer on June 15, 2006.
It wasn't the first time I'd lost someone dear to me. I lost my brother nearly 12 years ago rather suddenly, and that alone was one of the biggest tragedies I had to endure up until that time. He had quite an impact on my life, and it took a long time to cope with that loss. But I've been able to move on from his death. I can accept it as part of reality. Different people have different effects on one's life, and while I've been able to handle the stress of losing my brother, I've found losing my mother has been even more difficult.
My mother was one of the healthiest people I ever knew. Even now, I can’t recall when she ever had so much as a cold. She was the strong person in our family. My father liked to consider himself the one in charge, but we all knew better. Mom called the shots, and any decision regarding our family went through her. She was invincible.
My mother was one of the healthiest people I ever knew. Even now, I can’t recall when she ever had so much as a cold. She was the strong person in our family. My father liked to consider himself the one in charge, but we all knew better. Mom called the shots, and any decision regarding our family went through her. She was invincible.
All of that changed in 2003, when she was first diagnosed. Suddenly, the strong, vibrant woman I called Mom started fading away. I watched as the color slowly faded from her face more each day. The hopeful, happy expression in her eyes turned to sadness and despair. She even lost her voice during the course of her chemotherapy. She had such a beautiful alto voice, but it became weak and raspy as her body was ravaged by the cancer, and by the treatments that were supposed to save her.
The time since her death has been difficult, even after so many years. The fact that my aunt died on the same day this year only served to bring back even more of those memories. It was only a few months ago that I was able to summon up the courage to actually visit her gravesite and tell her "goodbye". But even though that moment helped to relieve some of the pain I was feeling, I still don't believe I've completely accepted it. Going to see her is still a struggle, but I decided today that I had to do it.
It was a brief meeting, just long enough to tell Mom how I and the rest of the family are doing. I sometimes think it is a meaningless gesture, since if she truly is watching down on us, she already knows what is going on in our daily lives. Maybe I do it more for myself than for her. I reminded her again how much I love her, and how much I miss her. Part of me wishes that she could answer me, even if only one time, but I know that's impossible.
My drive home was somber. I didn't return immediately to my apartment; I spent almost an hour driving around. I've been trying to limit any unnecessary usage of gasoline since losing my job, but today I didn't have any concern for that. I needed to reminisce.
For most of my life, my mother was my point of reference for everything. Like I mentioned earlier, any decision went through her. Even if she wasn't directly affected by the choice - which classes to take, how to approach someone about an issue I was having with them, which car would be the best to buy - my mother had to be consulted. Not that she expected it...that was just way I handled everything. In the years since her passing, I have had to adjust - quite reluctantly - to not having her guidance. Though I was 26 when she died, I realized just how much I depended on her input. I didn't always change my mind based on what she said, but her opinion always mattered to me nonetheless. Now, I can't ask her anything. I still do, but she doesn't answer. They say everything happens for a reason, and her death did have the effect of making me grow up and depend more on my own judgment than hers. But I wish God had found a kinder way of teaching me that lesson. I still blame Him. Sometimes, I even think I hate Him...
Walking back into my apartment, for a second, I wondered what Mom would think of my place. Would she like it? Would she have picked the same furniture? Would she comment on my lackluster housekeeping? (I do clean a lot, but certainly not as much as she did.) Would she get along with my cat? My choices are my own, but a small part of me always wonders what she would do. It may be pathetic to some people, to still hold so tightly to someone who's been gone for so long, but I've never been good with change, and even worse with loss. The solace my father gets from knowing she is in Heaven doesn't provide the same comfort for me. I want her here, and will probably always feel that emptiness.
While my mother was still alive, she told me all the time how proud she was of me. I can only hope that with each passing day, and with each decision or choice I make, that I still make her proud. But hope is all I can do, because despite what other people may tell me, I'll never know for sure.
It was a brief meeting, just long enough to tell Mom how I and the rest of the family are doing. I sometimes think it is a meaningless gesture, since if she truly is watching down on us, she already knows what is going on in our daily lives. Maybe I do it more for myself than for her. I reminded her again how much I love her, and how much I miss her. Part of me wishes that she could answer me, even if only one time, but I know that's impossible.
My drive home was somber. I didn't return immediately to my apartment; I spent almost an hour driving around. I've been trying to limit any unnecessary usage of gasoline since losing my job, but today I didn't have any concern for that. I needed to reminisce.
For most of my life, my mother was my point of reference for everything. Like I mentioned earlier, any decision went through her. Even if she wasn't directly affected by the choice - which classes to take, how to approach someone about an issue I was having with them, which car would be the best to buy - my mother had to be consulted. Not that she expected it...that was just way I handled everything. In the years since her passing, I have had to adjust - quite reluctantly - to not having her guidance. Though I was 26 when she died, I realized just how much I depended on her input. I didn't always change my mind based on what she said, but her opinion always mattered to me nonetheless. Now, I can't ask her anything. I still do, but she doesn't answer. They say everything happens for a reason, and her death did have the effect of making me grow up and depend more on my own judgment than hers. But I wish God had found a kinder way of teaching me that lesson. I still blame Him. Sometimes, I even think I hate Him...
Walking back into my apartment, for a second, I wondered what Mom would think of my place. Would she like it? Would she have picked the same furniture? Would she comment on my lackluster housekeeping? (I do clean a lot, but certainly not as much as she did.) Would she get along with my cat? My choices are my own, but a small part of me always wonders what she would do. It may be pathetic to some people, to still hold so tightly to someone who's been gone for so long, but I've never been good with change, and even worse with loss. The solace my father gets from knowing she is in Heaven doesn't provide the same comfort for me. I want her here, and will probably always feel that emptiness.
While my mother was still alive, she told me all the time how proud she was of me. I can only hope that with each passing day, and with each decision or choice I make, that I still make her proud. But hope is all I can do, because despite what other people may tell me, I'll never know for sure.
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