life experience

Ant and the Universe

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Once upon a time, there was a mostly happy ant who lived in a mostly happy sector of the universe.

The ant had everything it needed to live its happy little life – a home, plenty of sweets and other ants to love and be loved by.

Being a part of the universe was very important to this ant and more often than not, the ant felt very strong and capable to participate in all that needed to be done to keep the universe going.

There were moments though, when the ant’s faith faltered.  The ant seemed to get a glimpse outside of its universe to see the bigger universe in which it also lived.

That was scary for this little ant.  It made the ant want to huddle up within its home, hide all of its sweets and not let the other ants it loved and was loved by out of its sight.

That, of course, was not possible.  The ant had work to do to help keep its home and it had to share its sweets in order to continue receiving them.  The ant’s loved ones had their own lives, too, no matter how old they were or how much the ant loved them or they loved the ant.

The ant understood this in its head, but sometimes the ant’s feelers would get confused and the ant’s feelings would by-pass the head down to the very center of its trunk.  Then its trunk would begin to ache and try to send feelings back to its feelers for guidance.

The ant’s head would get in the way and not let the feelings out.  They would bottle up behind the ant’s eye and as a result, its pinchers would tighten and its claws would sharpen.  Tight pinchers and sharp claws made it difficult for the ant to work to keep its home, enjoy its sweets and even love and be loved.

This happened off and on for the ant over many years of living in its universe.  And being so small, a few days or hours could seem like a lifetime for this ant.  It was during these times the ant would get very lonely and wonder if it really belonged in its home or deserved its sweets.  The ant went so far as to question the love that was in its life.

But the ant was not able to express how lonely it got  and would only ask these questions inside, not to other ants.  For when the ant got so very lonely and felt so very small, its fear of not being happy at all anymore was stronger than its trust in the greater good of its life.

The ant would go to bed each night and try to remember all of the wonderfulness it had in its life and universe.  It would wake up each morning hoping to remember that its home was safe, its sweets were precious and its love divine.

Usually the universe helped the ant and gave tiny ant-sized signs to remind it that it was, is and always will be a most beloved and integral part of not only its universe but also the universe in which its universe lived.

And the one beyond that, too.

Open Thank You Letter to the Dixie Chicks

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Natalie Maines.

Emily Robison.

Martie Maguire.

Three women I have never met yet who were instrumental in my survival during some dark days in my marriage and life.  Their voices and words from three albums in particular – Wide Open Spaces, Fly, Home – were on constant repeat mode in my iPod with my headphones plastered to my ears for nearly a year or longer back in late 2002 and all of 2003.

IMHO, Marriage is a journey with two people who at the base of their relationship love each other in such a profound way as to commit to share the rest of their lives together.  Sometimes the journey takes the couple to exotic locations where their minds and bodies become like intensely familiar entities who have been connected long before they met in this life.  Other times, the road darkens and couples get separated and lost in a dense jungle of terrifying emotion and doubt.  Mostly, I have discovered, the path is more like a hike up a favorite mountain trail – a bit rocky and steep at points but with long stretches of open terrain where we simply walk together holding hands, and now, leading our family.

It was during one of our trips to what seemed like the deepest part of the Congo where even breathing was difficult that I discovered the Dixie Chicks.  I had not previously listened to them, but heard a song on the radio and knew they understood what I was feeling.  So I bought the CDs in quick succession and played them over and over again alternately weeping, singing at the top of my lungs alone in the car, and dancing with my children in the living room.

It was as if their music was sent to me specifically at that time as an outlet for all of the unexplainable emotions my heart was breaking from.  They let me sing with them even though I had no idea how to join in a harmony or even match their melody.  When I sang with the Dixie Chicks, I was singing pure emotion and it was perfect.

I was reminded of this time in my life when I recently rediscovered my long forgotten, battery impaired iPod.

I was also sent others in this sisterhood who were not abstract voices purchased at the music store, but real women who had been to similar jungles, loved and survived their own harrowing trips and clung to my side, holding me up until I once again believed I could stand on my own.

I am still married and am grateful for it. I love my husband and am so glad we both decided to come out of the jungles together to proceed on our trek through some wondrous countryside that we might have missed had we given up.

I am, also, grateful for all of these women, their voices, and my ability to join them in this life.  I continue to meet more amazing women who share my joys, struggles and general love of the whole spectacular rave.

‘Cuz some days you gotta dance…

Phases of menopause?

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I’ve read what the clinical stages of menopause are – perimenopausal, premenopausal, menopausal, and post menopausal.  When this happens naturally for a woman varies based upon when she started her first menstrual cycle or based upon when her mother went through it.

For me, it’s unknown.  My mother had her hysterectomy at age 41 due to a rather large benign cyst that overtook her uterus.  They recommended taking everything – ovaries and all, so she did.  She was immediately went through physical menopause as they adjusted her artificial hormone replacement therapy.

No one thought to ask her mother when she went through menopause before she died at the age 82.

I had my hysterectomy last year – less than ten days before my 40th birthday.  Long story behind it, but I also had two other surgeries at the same time to repair some damage from having children.  The doctor recommended that I keep my ovaries and I did.  He assured me that this surgery would not trigger menopause and has run blood work that seems to indicate that my hormone levels are fine.

Then why the hot flashes?  Night sweats?  Super-inhuman mood swings?  Either total insomnia or nearly falling asleep in the restroom stall at work when I get a few moments to myself? And other symptoms that are unexplainable and remind me of being pregnant again?  Severe lower back pain?  Charlie horses in my calves?  Tender breasts?

WTF?!

Clinical stages verified by specific blood work results my ass!  Keeping your ovaries a sure-fire way to avoid early menopause due to a hysterectomy – bite me!

Let’s not forget the rage against the machinations of my own brain.  And the lingering ache from one of my surgeries that does not seem to want to go away.  And the entirely new way I had to learn to pee from the other one.

TMI?  Maybe, but dump all of that in a blender, pour in a dose of children being angry for not taking them out to dinner on a Friday night, a handful or two of happy Christmas versus new air conditioner, drop in some chopped up pieces of whatever the dog has chewed up today and pack in some not-so-random emotional angst until full.  Sprinkle with overflowing laundry, dishes, unscooped poop, and any minor misstep made from throughout the day.  Flip the switch to liquefy and let run from 6 a.m. to about 10 p.m. and if it hasn’t blown itself to bits by then, transfer contents to air tight ziploc bag and hide in the deep freeze until there is a free day to thaw it out and pour down the drain.

Or buy yourself a great handbag on e-bay that you neither need or can afford.

It is my currently preferred form of HRT – Handbag Replacement Therapy.

As for whether or not I’m actually in a phase of menopause – I wonder how many HRTs it will take before I am sure?