Category: Ponderances

For questions I can’t seem to find the answers to.

There Is a Sadness…

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…that sits with me. It has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. It came with the knowledge. There is a period in every human’s life where we live blissfully unaware. Unaware of the things that change us and shape us into the adults we will become. I have always believed that we are all born with the same potential. We are all capable of achieving great things for ourselves and for those truly gifted, maybe the world. People in general, are also hopelessly flawed, {{{sigh}}}. In a quest to fix themselves they often push their failed dreams and inspirations onto their children, or there is mistreatment, judgment, and abuse. I love my family but like most families we had our ups, downs, and weirdness.

My knowledge came the day my little girl soul realized I was not loved or wanted as equally as the others. I have been treated differently my whole life. I am that kid that colors outside the lines. I am that kid that daydreams in your class because I am beyond what you are teaching. I am at that kid that craves to know WHY over everything that I find curious. I am at that kid who will drive you to the brink of anger but, I will not understand what I have done to put you there. I am that kid that relates to you by telling you a story of a similar nature to how you are feeling so I can avoid being told…you can’t possibly understand how I feel. I am a terrible listener, because the truth is I probably can’t or don’t want to because I always felt that NOBODY ever cared how I felt. So, sadness came to sit with me.

SADNESS and I have known each other for a very long time. I am fairly adept at managing it but occasionally just for a change of pace, life intervenes and then I find SADNESS holding my hand, making my decisions, borrowing trouble so ANGER can come for lunch.

Lately, I have been putting myself through the ringer. My older sister passed away in August. While we were not close and really had not been a part of each other’s lives for quite a while, I loved her. My inner child pines for days gone by, when we were children and all of the world’s wrath had yet to unfold on us. (DARK? sorry that’s how I feel) but we all know that life consistently rolls forward with or in this case without you. I hate to cry but as I age, I find myself getting really good at. I do not enjoy when I feel myself welling up over shit that I would not have spent more than a few seconds of apathy on in my youth. Who is this old lady that inhabits my soul? I told you ANGER has come for a visit. The realization of me being the only peep still carrying the colors for my family feels wrong. It makes me feel all the feels, which, if you know me, makes me very uncomfortable with any of it.

I feel a hope rising within me. While sadness and anger are a part of everyone who lives, it is time for them to go back on the shelf with the other time worn emotions of my soul. Negative emotions suck too much energy out of who I know I am. Yesterday, my usual sense of being returned. Things are getting better. I no longer have to be the kid who fixes other people’s problems. IYKYK. I am seen. I am heard. I am wanted. I am LOVED.

Brenda 2004, Mom 2007, Pops 2016, Celine 2021. My family. Tears flow for the love I no longer get to share with the ones who have gone on before me. Until we meet again. You know, I love you, right?

The Bubble

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Everyone that you know in and around your life, myself included live their lives in a bubble. Wait, hear me out. As adults we generally have a decent dedicated small circle of friends and family we lean on, look up to and hang out with. These people are part of our bubble and in turn we are part of theirs. It reminds me of math class when the teacher makes the circles on the chalkboard showing where common variables are within the innermost middle of the bubbles that are intersecting each other. This is life. The bubble changes size many times in the course of a lifetime. Variables change; people come and go, loved ones die.

I have an older sister. She was recently diagnosed with stage four cancer. Our family bubble has always been lopsided. Not perfectly formed, difficult to maintain. Our mother was a wounded soul, who brought that into a family dynamic. Those wounds braided themselves into the fabric of our lives. I often found myself at odds with my older sister. Yes, there were times we truly got along. Sadly, there were many more times when I just didn’t want to be part of her bubble. I have always loved her. I have not always liked her or appreciated her. It is a wonderful thing that love never dies or gives up.

Because I am an ass that holds a good grudge our relationship has been strained for many years. I take full responsibility. She didn’t reach out to me about not feeling well until the rowboat she has been drifting in life with started to take on more water than she could bail. There has been contact throughout our grown-up lives but nothing really meaningful. She moved out of Massachusetts in the late 1980s. Only rarely to come back this way. Weddings, funerals, the occasional “I miss the family” tantrum, and in the grand scheme of things just because she wanted to be loved by her bubble, her family.

I have always been the odd duck. I prefer Swan, but whatever. I was the middle child. I am an introvert. Go ahead and have a good laugh, but it is true. When you experience me in public that is the mask I learned to use for survival. I prefer tangible things that don’t have emotions over people who make life messy. Being this way makes me appear angry and judgmental sometimes. I have never been good managing my own emotions. No one ever taught me. My mother was ALL over the place. Happy one minute, raging against the machine the next. Growing up was? Let’s just say I am adult survivor of our shared childhood traumas. Enough of that. Time to get to my point.

Celine is my sister. She has stage four Breast Cancer. I know very little about her adult life from the past 25 years. My choice. In an effort to create my own (bubble) life, my own version of happiness, I simply did not reach out. I cannot change the way our paths have gone. I am unsure about how I feel. We have spoken. I am at odds. I am angry for us. I am angry at myself. In my efforts to avoid feeling or dealing with my emotions, I hurt her. When in fact I just wanted to exist in a place where peace reigned. Foolish mortal. I cannot undo what has been lived. I am sorry I wasn’t … present in your life. I am sorry I missed the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I have no idea how much time she has left on this plain of existence. I hope she finds peace in her final days. I do indeed LOVE her. I hope our loved ones on the other side of the veil greet her with the love she missed in this life.

4:56 a.m.

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So? My vacation is at that point where the dread swoops in. We all recognize that feeling. C’mon, admit it. My dread woke me, to be dreadfully honest, see what I did there? at 2:33 a.m. I haven’t slept well all vacation, I am not sure why, but it is my truth. Now that my time off is speeding to the finish line, I am wasting time thinking about the things I have not gotten to, that I thought I wanted to do but… great now that I am WIDE awake why don’t I OVERTHINK for a bit. Everything about being a woman of a certain age is starting to roll down the hill, gaining speed as it goes, leaving me with a sense of overshadowing and doom I am having a tough time grasping. Is this all there is? I mean, really?

Dearest Hubster, on his way to the loo, rather grumpily asked me what the hell I was doing. I don’t know? Not sleeping? Gathering anger as I roll? I feel like I am becoming that “old lady parable” and trust me I do not want to be anyone’s DON’T do this to your life list. I realize that it is now today, so yesterday (a mere few hours ago) DH and I went for our yearly eye exams. I have dry eyes. Add this to my pile of things that have decided it is just time to slow down/stop production, as if menopause wasn’t enough fun on its own.

I hate a good routine. What can I say, I hate authority. I hate being told what I can and can’t do. Perhaps that is why I love Alice Kingsley so much from Alice in Wonderland. Life is routine. WE all have routines. Vacation is supposed to be that precious allotment of time when we get to say NO ROUTINES this week. Being an adult though is realizing that vacation is still part of a routine it just plays on a different “media device”, lol. What now? you ask? I am suddenly sleepy, so I am going to crawl back into bed and catch a few winks before the day interrupts further and ruins a good vibe.

It’s Just Another Day…

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Is it really though? Today is my birthday. It is not just another day, well, at least not from where I am sitting. My birthday is what New’s Year Day is to everybody else. I never make resolutions in January but every July I come up with a greatest hits list of things I NEED to do, things I haven’t done, and lest I forget I question my size usually followed with a promise to myself to try harder to be magazine slim and perfect. Life has given me bigger fish to fry this round. I blew out my right knee while having a lunch with my hubby, at work, no less. I mean WTF, nice way to show your age Bertha. Surprise! in case, you haven’t heard I am a woman of a certain age…code speak for heads up things are going to start to shrivel up, become painful or just stop working the way they used to, like my eyesight or my bladder, or my sense of humor.

Somewhere in the expanse of 2024 I just stopped. I stopped torturing myself over things I cannot change or control. Funny now when I think about it. Was this the precursor to my knee giving up? I stopped going on Fb, too many people “putting” their mirror selves out there. NO ONE’s life is that perfect Janet, so just stop, get some therapy, actually live the moments of your life instead of setting up the next great shot. I embrace the fact that when I am stressed out, I DOOM SCROLL Instagram or FB reels… BUT why? just why? I can’t even say it’s just background noise because it isn’t. It lulls me into a nonfeeling calmness? Most days I don’t allow myself to get sucked into that vortex, but I am human. One of my recent goals to not bother them so they won’t bother me. Snake oil salesmen most of the lot. If there really was a cure for meno belly which required ZERO EFFORT on my part, it would be owned by a conglomerate which would buy continuous airtime and Drs. would be pushing that shit like lollipops on a Sunday.

I used to watch ‘The Real Housewives of …” pick one from the franchise. It is the same script over and over, self-absorbed rich women, some have no grey matter of their own (brains), someone is always married to a rich old fop, someone is always: the saint, the sinner, the slut, the mean girl. They are all collectively beautiful and near body perfect. I don’t know about the rest of you but there are plenty of REAL housewives making it on their own, curvy, smartass women you want to hang with. Yes, we all know that there are housewives amongst us that also fit the criteria (SEE ABOVE : the saint…) but our beauty most definitely lies elsewhere. Sorry, sorry see? a gal’s mind also wanders at this point in life. Where was I? oh, yeah, my knee.

Time travel exists only in my mind’s eye. Picture it, January 13, 2005, a terrible mix precipitation hits Worcester County. The roads are icy, but my place of employment has not called off work. Hubby and I trudge off to work only for me to slip in the parking lot at my JOB. I fly through the air. My left leg kicks out in front of me; I fall to the ground leg already broken. I heard it snap. Imagine a pencil you force with your hands to bend until it snaps. Yup. It hurt like hell. I am pretty sure anyone within a half mile radius heard me scream F^*K. I nearly passed out, but I was also angry. I am pretty sure I was adrenalized out to the max so there’s that. I was non weight bearing on my left leg for 10 months. In 2005 I weighed in at about 325-340 lbs. range. Whole lot of PLUS SIZE girlie to balance on one leg. Fast forward to 2025, in my lifetime I have gone both up and down on the scale, I am currently in the 220 range. Yes, I know still too much but I am done chasing a dream that never belonged to me. I am beautiful. I am enough. I am LOVED. I am more than a number on a scale. Why do I bring this up you ask? Hold on I am getting there.

After a few solid weeks of me trying to ignore my leg hoping that things would improve I had to see my primary about the pain and the swelling. X-rays tell this story of a knee that has seen too much and suffered a lot. There is no ice it and go. I need a full replacement. I went to the bone and joint clinic at Memorial Hospital. A very handsome physician’s assistant withdrew fluid from my knee, gave me a cortisone/Lidocaine super shot, told me I was fat without saying it that way and I am too young for a knee replacement. All without ever looking at my history. Really? Of course, I schooled him. I asked him point blank if he even bothered to look at my chart. Assumptions are the worst things to put beliefs in. Until I hurt myself, I went to the gym. I swam, did Barre, loved my yoga classes. But I am round, right? I can’t possibly be fit? Twist brother. My polite way of saying “GO F^*K yourself.

The outpouring of help and support from people around me both at work and in my personal life have been wonderful. I am not too young for this surgery nor am I too heavy. Advocate for yourself. Go after the care you deserve. Don’t let anyone brush off how you feel. What you think matters. If my surgeon would like me to shed a few pounds I will. I have already put in the work with some therapy sessions to prepare my leg for the coming event. This time I will schedule some mind therapy as well to help me get through the depression that might come afterwards. I didn’t seek help after my thyroid adventure, I should have. Lessons learned.

Today is not just another day. Today is my Birthday. I had a grand day. Hubby and I made it a great day.

Never Give Up ON WHO YOU ARE MEANT TO BE

Out With The Old…

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In with new? So more than a few years ago ‘the Spark Joy movement’ started by Marie Kondo swept through the USA and I am sure other well-meaning societies too. Who doesn’t enjoy a quick, easy to use technique for changing a life path? After I threw out numerous bras and panties my hubby asked me to spark my JOY another way. I find myself at the end of another year in this walk of life. We are just a few months into 2025. Just WOW! I moved into a new age decade July 2024. I am now one of the millions of people who are referred to as “old, older, ancient…” I think you get my drift. I would like to say that I am middle- aged but since I know I won’t live to be 120 years old that is a bold face lie on my part. I have always been dramatic about getting older. I have I often feared that time was/is my enemy. I chose that path when I could’ve been enJOYing the walk all along.

Time is the greatest liar. It is misleading and lurks in dark corners waiting patiently for you to notice that you have spent it foolishly. Time can be on your hands, running out, getting away from you. It can be spent wisely and foolishly. Time can be “on your side” or completely against you. It is a cruel prankster and often baffles the person trying to manage what little time they have left to accomplish all of the things on their bucket lists.

I recently read somewhere that if a person is really lucky, they have about 4000 weeks or roughly 77 years of life. This information caused me to spin into the far reaches of my quiet spaces and worry about my time. How have I spent it? How many weeks do I have left? Does my bucket list need to be updated? Are there bridges I am willing to burn/cross to live within my peace? I honestly don’t know how to answer these questions. I never once in my youth thought that I would be where I am now on the cusp of yet another birthday, dreams unmet, waistline, sigh, let’s just say I am setting that pipe dream free. There are so much more great things in my life that are far more important than my body shape. I have held onto that pressure for way too long. And then it hit me…

I AM LIVING MY BEST LIFE just by being in it, being involved in what goes on around me, loving the people in my life. My hubby and I are rediscovering how wonderful we are together and not just as married peeps but as friends. He is my ride or die. The number of weeks left to my life is not what is important, it is who you spend your time with. Take that vacation, hug that loved one, tell your friends how much you love them, spark JOY for yourself. Be in your moments. At the end of a life well spent there should be no regrets, no should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.

Never Give Up on the Person You Are Meant to Be

Swim, Swam, Swum

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Towel wrap at the ready I climb the few steps which lead from the ladies’ locker room to the pool. I gently push open the opaque glass door (one never knows if someone is too close to the door) as I walk onto the decking around the pool. The air is warm, humid and slightly pungent with the smell of everything pool. I swim in a saltwater pool, so the chlorine smell and its effects are much more muted, no red eyes, no burning nose, no skin irritation and best of all a longer life span for Lycra Spandex. I always do a quick visual inventory of the pool deck, who is already lane swimming, which lanes are open and of course, check the clock. A huge white faced, red second hand sweep jobber hangs near the far end of the pool opposite the locker room entrance which serves as a constant reminder that time is ever ticking, and the time slot waits for no one.

I place my towel, eyeglasses, and water bottle poolside onto a folding chair. I kick off my Crocs and make my way to the stairs. I try to always reserve Lane 1 or 2. It is just easier for me to access the water from there. I am older. I broke one of my legs some years ago so slipping into the pool from a railing is harder for me. This morning, I was blessed with Lane 3. Well, I was but an older woman was already lap swimming and pretended not to notice me. It happens, bad form on her part. A very nice man in Lane 1 split lanes with me so I could swim. he swam in Lane 2 and I in 1. He even apologized for the old broad in Lane 3. Who does that? He made my moment of frustration melt away. I thanked him and got down to business.

I am not a fast swimmer. My form needs work, but I give swimming my all. I do a mean back stroke and can hold my own with the side crawl. The pool is where I go to be alone. I do some of my best thinking in the water. I like to listen to the beating of my heart, the intake of air as I breathe through each stroke magnified by the water that surrounds my head. The rhythm of the sounds relaxes me. The stress and anger of life lifts. I am able to do 20 lengths before my time expires. It doesn’t seem like much but 88 lengths is a mile swim. I will get there. I know I will. I will be forever thankful to the public school system of Whitinsville MA for making me partake in swim lessons when I was in fourth grade. I was fearful of the instructor, a stern woman named Lorraine. If you are from Whitinsville, and of a certain age, you know who I am talking about but without her guidance I would not be able to do what I really enjoy.

I have never been one to belong to a gym. I do now, this is who I have allowed myself to be. I was never comfortable enough in my own skin to do any of the things I now enjoy: yoga, Barre, swimming, walking the treadmill, stationary bike…exercising. I even shower at the gym and go forward with my day. Who AM I? I guess it is true what is said about getting older. I really have learned that what I think I can achieve is more important than what someone else says (thinks) I am capable of. I have my own confidence, not borrowed or boosted like book from the library. I own it. I am a woman of a certain age. =)

I see you. You are loved. You are enough. I love that you are a part of my world. I am not always great with letting the people in my life know what they mean to me. Call it a weariness caused by a lifetime of letdown from people I should have been able to trust. Some dogs do indeed bite. I love the people who choose to be part of my life. I have residual sadness over the end of a few friendships with people I have parted ways with (creative differences). I am certain that I am not everyone’s cuppa tea. I am Okay with that. Just as I am certain they have since moved on and silenced the whys? of our undoing. This is not to say that my life path has not been blessed with wonderful people. It has. Some people have visited, some have stayed, some came spent time and then went away. I have learned something from everyone who has crossed into and out of my life. I have learned valuable life lessons from each person who walks the path with me even if it is only for a short while.

I am certain that I am living my best life because I work every day at being who I always dreamed I could be. I refuse to give up. Life is a journey don’t forget to enjoy it. There will be many stops along the way but the adventure rolls on. Veni, Vidi, Vici/ swim, swam, swum

Never Give Up On The Person You Are Meant To BE.

I Can’t Stand the Rain

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The constant tap, tap, tap as the wind pushes the rain into my office window is beginning to irritate me. I know I am in a small minority of folks that genuinely dislike rain, but it is my truth. Rainy Days and Mondays always gets me down… The best place to be when it rains is sequestered inside with books or movies to catch up on. I think the only time I don’t hate the rain? in the dead heat of a summer’s day when the humidity just won’t break. Most times though that rain just lasts long enough to make a mess and change the humidity, not always for the best. Once upon a time when I was young there was nothing like the rain on a summer’s day. Cooling enough to wash the dust from my thoughts, feet splashing in the mini rivers as I skipped along trying to keep up as the rain ran into the storm drains. Curious about the clouds changing from angry to hopeful as I looked skyward. Truly magical to a kid, but those days are long over. I barely cloud surf anymore, though I admit it still holds magic for me. Hope floats.

This batch of rain is misplaced and unwanted. I am trying to embrace the discomfort of today. I am writing my blog. I am drinking tea. I am browsing/ shopping online. I am binge watching Disney. I mean it is only rain, right? I want to think about something other than the howling wind. It is not so dark anymore (9:28 a.m.) and the wind seems to be calming down a bit. SQUEE! 

I believe there will be no snow for this Christmas. It has just been too rainy and warm. On one hand I am happy (no shoveling) but on the other hand a touch sad. I like a white Christmas even if it is just a light dusting. There is something about (probably left over Bing Crosby vibes) the magic of snow which makes me feel as if the Universe is in its proper alignment, lol. I am wishing you all, the happiest of what the holidays can be about. Love the people in your life. You are enough. YOU are loved. You are amazing. Never Give UP ON the Person You Are Meant TO BE.

A Vaccuum

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What would your life be like without music? A Vaccuum.

Superman track sung by Barbra Streisand from Superman Album; song written by Richie Synder released June 1977

Odd way to start a day. I signed on this morning to start a new blog post; this ‘write a blog post prompt’ was here. This is supposed to be a love song, but this is how I feel about music. I love to sing. It makes me feel alive and like I am part of something bigger and better than myself.

Music makes me realize there is color in my world, that love does indeed exist and beauty is in what you do, not what you look like. I wake up with a different song in my thoughts EVERY SINGLE DAY.

No music is like a day without joy, or sunshine, or love. It would cause a giant void in my life. One I would have a hard time filling with something else.

I Don’t Want Much ;

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I just want more. I am Oliver Twist. Always wanting what I don’t have instead of enjoying what I do have. I have just about given up on all types of social media. TOO MUCH PHONY…people, products, happiness. Everyone does it; and by that, I mean create an alternate version of themselves that is more aesthetically appealing to life’s casual acquaintances. I can barely remember the time before instant media. It was an actual thing to wait for the evening paper for world updates. Walter Cronkite was not to be missed and the only people who bragged about their fake lives were the distant relatives everyone has had to put up with one Christmas or another.

I recently went to Boston to catch the show “Jagged Little Pill” It was very good but triggering, at least it was for me. I wish I had been smarter and prepared myself for the story line. The play was going along fine. Family struggling with drinking and drug issues, marital problems, gender identity, gay, protestors… and I was thinking, “what could this have to do with me? Why do I feel tense?” Teenage trauma undealt with is still trauma. I successfully shelved those unwanted memories for a long time the fear, the self-loathing, my depression. I couldn’t save her. I am almost 60 and I still cry whenever I find myself unable to avoid what happened. Date rape affects more than the person who was violated. I know it changed me forever. My trust or should I say lack of trust runs deep. I was sixteen years old when my kid sister came home one night drunk, and I later learned date raped. She was fourteen. She had a habit of sneaking out at night to walk uptown. You know in our teens years we are all trying to figure out our places in the world. Are we smart enough? Are we pretty enough? Will we ever be loved or wanted?

Once upon a time I was the middle daughter in a family grouping of five. My Mother, my Father and we three sisters. This is where my wanting comes from. I wanted not to be the middle girl. I wanted to Audrey Hepburn in “My Fair Lady“. I wanted to be Barbra Streisand in “What’s Up Doc?” I wanted to be anywhere but Whitinsville MA. I can’t remember a time as kid when anybody told me I was beautiful, or smart, or that things have a way of turning out. I learned to be funny as a survival mechanism. My dad was always at work. My mother was crazy. I know this now but as a kid I just knew that when I was busy being funny our lives went easier. We three girls spent a lot of time at relatives houses because truth be told, mental hospitals don’t let kids visit their loved ones until they are fourteen years of age and by that time, I just didn’t give a fuck anymore. Growing up in a dysfunctional family tends to make one dysfunctional. Every year I watch “Home for the Holidays” because there is a scene where the overstressed mother throws a turkey across the dining room. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, it makes me so angry. It brings back fresh to my mind so many holidays that ended the same way in our family.

It is time to lay my burdens down. My kid sister is no longer troubled with her past. She took it with her the day she died in a car accident so why am I still trying to make it all better? It was not my fault that I was not there to be her protector. It was not her fault she was raped. It was what happened a long time ago in a small town in America before it was cool to say “ME TOO”.

Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

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You catch a glimpse of something at the edge of your line of sight. You are certain you see something; a sense of apprehension is growing. One minute life is what is has always been, and the next? You are moving forward at the speed of light, and just like a snap of the fingers thirty years has flown by. How curious and yet, how life affirming to know there has always been a constant in my adulting, my hubby and his strengths as a good human.

Let’s spend a moment of silence … Okay? Everything good?? Well, let me start by saying it is totally cool if that answer is NO. I have my daze. (You catch that play on words?) We are now working a new schedule with longer hours but shorter days. I wish sometimes that affecting a lifestyle change was as easy as stepping through a mirror or plunging down some shady ass rabbit hole but that my friends is not reality (I am a big fan of Alice in Wonderland). Everyone is (or should be) familiar with a quote that goes something like ” be the change you want to see in the world”. How many of us actually pursue it or believe we can change ourselves or the world around us? Scarce few of us, this I am certain. I used to be afraid. I am not anymore.

There was a time in my life when I felt overwhelmed by so many things around me. Growing up with little adult direction and guidance in my life colored all of my decisions, friendships, jobs, love, self-esteem, and sense of purpose. Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a maiden, who didn’t understand her worth. Never in her thoughts was there a happily ever after looming in her dreams. Until one day, her future changed paths and she said YES…to a different mindset, to a different reality, not a fairy tale. He may not be a prince but to me he is a king. I am loved. I am enough. He sees me for everything that I am and still loves me. He is everything to me. My love, my joy, my aggravation (yes, I said aggravation; this is life not a Disney movie), The Green Hornet to my Kato. Today is our 27th wedding anniversary. It still feels like we are just starting out on our life journey together.

We are each blessed to have found the other. You are my EVERYTHING I love you more than you will ever know, thank you for being you.