Category: Awkward.

Thank You… I Think

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It hurts when someone who we think should love and/or appreciate us does not.
It’s also a fact of life that not everyone is going to like, appreciate or love us.  After all, we don’t like, appreciate or love absolutely everyone else, do we?

This poem expresses the truth of that, but also adds a positive spin: when we accept that and grow through it, we become stronger. When we are true to ourselves, we find the people who do love and appreciate us, and they become our tribe.

Family isn’t just who you are born to, or the people connected to that group in one way or another. Sometimes, the best family is the one you find while being the person you are meant to be.

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How ironic
That you don’t like it
When I stand up for myself:
You’re the one
Whose weapon words
Gave me real-time training
In the art of self defence.
Had I not learned
To deflect your contempt
And resist your hateful words,
I would not be here today.

You prompted my resistance,
Inspired my defiance,
And forced my indifference
To anything else you have to say.

So thank you, I think,
For helping me become someone others like
Infinitely more than you do.

ⓒ2020 Joanne Van Leerdam

Thank You… I Think
#poem #Poetuit

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Epidural.

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I am writing this while waiting for today’s instalment of treatment on my problematic lower back and spine.

An accurate representation of my life.

I’ve been having increasingly constant and aggressive pain in my back and sciatic pain in both my legs over recent months. I cannot sit, stand, or lie down without pain, which is both affecting everything I do and depriving me of sleep.

My neurosurgeon has prescribed an epidural injection of steroids into my back, done under CT scan guidance.

I know it is a treatment a lot of people have, but that doesn’t stop me feeling anxious about it. I am looking forward to the respite from constant pain, but it’s not a process I am looking forward to.

So, I am filling in the time by wondering about the meaning and origin of the word ‘epidural’. It’s a frequently used word in relation to one of the kinds of anaesthetic used during childbirth, and people generally understand that is blocks pain from the waist down, but that is not my circumstance. I’m definitely not giving birth today!

The Macquarie Dictionary definition, while accurate, was not entirely helpful.

Having looked up ’epidural’, I then had to look up ‘dura’.
Just like that, I’m already learning things I didn’t know.

So, I can deduce that I am having an injection through the tough outer lining of my spinal cord.

To be honest, this research isn’t really reassuring me about the procedure at all.

According to Etymonline, the prefix epi- means on or above, and came into English from Greek.
The term dura mater dates back to about 1400 AD, coming from the Medieval Latin ‘dura mater cerebri’ which translates to “hard mother of the brain,” a term which was borrowed from the Arabic ‘umm al-dimagh as-safiqa’, which means “thick mother of the brain.”

And so I wait, informed and still apprehensive of what is to come.

All I can say is I really, really hope this works.

Not Ready To Make Nice

Forgiveness does not mean being a doormat. Far from it.

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Today, for reasons of my own that do not need to be shared publicly, this song is playing in my head.

Screenshot: The Chicks — Not Ready To Make Nice

Don’t get me wrong: I firmly believe in forgiveness. Even if the other person never knows I have forgiven them, it’s important for myself spiritually and emotionally to move on from carrying that burden.

That does not always mean I can trust them again.

Contrary to what the platitudes say, time does not heal all wounds and forgiveness does not erase the memory.

It is also important, both spiritually and emotionally, that I protect myself and those I love from harm. If that means not giving someone the means to damage me or my family again, then that is what I must do.

I can be civil without letting a toxic person into my life or my home. Those barriers are not coming down.

I can let others have a friendship or relationship with that person if they are determined to do so, but if I see that they are in danger of experiencing significant harm, I will speak up or stand between them if I must.

I know that many of my Christian friends and family would say that my forgiveness is incomplete. They might suggest I am not showing love.

I would argue that sometimes the kindest and forgiving thing you can do for a person is to stay right away from them. I would also argue that neither God nor the nature of forgiveness itself demands that one must become a doormat or a willing receptor of someone else’s malignity.

There are a handful of people about whom I have made that decision over the course of my life, and I am confident that in each situation, slamming that door firmly and permanently shut is the best thing I could have chosen to do about it.

Sometimes, you just have to leave certain people behind and move on.

Not Ready To Make Nice #forgiveness #selfcare #Boundaries

Easily Confused Words: Spoilt vs. Spoiled

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In response to describing myself on Christmas Day as spoilt, one of my acquaintances corrected me, saying that the word I should have used was ‘spoiled’. Their intentions were good, I’m sure, but they were, to put it bluntly… wrong.

‘Spoiled’ and ‘spoilt’ are similar words that are easily confused with one another. Both come from the word ‘spoil’ which has a number of meanings of its own.

In the US, they use ‘spoiled’ for everything. That certainly simplifies things!

In the UK and Australia, however, the two variants of the word are used differently.

‘Spoiled’ is generally used as the past tense verb of ‘spoil’, although it is not incorrect to use ‘spoilt’ instead.
Therefore, last week’s roast that has gone rancid, a sheet of paper that has had something spilled on it,  and a natural landscape defaced by deforestation, mining or construction are most often referred to as spoiled, but can be described as having been spoilt.

Spoilt is favoured as the adjective for things that have been spoiled.
Children — and occasionally adults — who have received too many presents for Christmas or a birthday, enjoyed too many indulgences, or experienced too little discipline in their lives are often said to be spoilt or, in excessive cases, spoilt rotten.

So, over Christmas, I could quite rightly describe myself as spoilt or spoilt rotten. Given that I looked, felt and smelled fine, I am confident that I wasn’t spoiled at all.

Sources:
Macquarie Dictionary
https://grammarist.com/usage/spoiled-spoilt/
https://www.writerscentre.com.au/blog/qa-spoilt-for-choice/

Easily confused words: spoiled vs. spoilt.
#words #englishteacher #blogpost

Fairy Lights: A Reflection on Brokenness at Christmas Time.

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I wrote this poem a while ago, but it seems so relevant at this point of 2020. Every time my Christmas fairy lights flick on lately, I think of this poem.

It’s the time of year when people want me to attend parties and end of year gatherings for work or other groups. They want me to sparkle, but I feel as though I am still so tangled and frayed and broken, I just can’t.

Yet again, I find myself ‘faking normal’ and smiling and nodding while wishing I could go home and go to bed instead. It’s a well-practised skill that, quite honestly, I wish I had never had to learn in the first place.

Hence my choice of new Christmas decoration, hung lovingly on my tree in honour of the mess that 2020 has been.

It’s fair to say I enjoy this bauble far more than I have enjoyed this year.

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Just like a bundle of fairy lights, stowed carelessly,

I am a mess of entangled emotions

A jumbled catastrophe, knotted and messy,

Some parts are missing, some coloured glass broken;

Synapses misfire in slightly frayed wires:

There’s danger in causing my power to surge,

I don’t always light up the way others desire

But I can be quite lovely when I have the urge.

©2017 Joanne Van Leerdam

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Undone.

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This morning, I came undone. 

I had my Christmas playlist on in the car. I defamed of a white Christmas with Frank Sinatra , I shared a grown-up Christmas list with Michael Buble, and then it happened. ‘Christmas Without You’ by Human Nature began to play. I held it together for the first verse, but I also knew it was time to pull over. There would be no driving through the rest of the song. 

I couldn’t even play the whole thing. I had to turn it off because the big,  ugly, messy cry was already just about out of control. 

Knowing Christmas this year will be spent without two people I love dearly is hard. I’ve had to consciously motivate myself to do the shopping, put up the tree and hang the tinsel. This is highly unusual for me: I am generally a big kid when it comes to Christmas. . Buying and wrapping gifts is fun, but even that brings its own reminders of whose presents won’t be under the tree. 

I will keep on playing Christmas music, but I have edited my playlist for this year. I have taken that song out, along with Blue Christmas, Please Come Home For Christmas, and All I Want For Christmas Is You. There will be fewer sad songs and more bells, reindeer and snow along with baby Jesus and the angels. 

I will do my best to enjoy Christmas with my loved ones. I will drape tinsel over the broken bits, and perhaps keep some spare strong tape handy in case I come unstuck again. Bring on the merry and the sparkles. 

Undone.
#christmassongs #emotions #Christmas2020

Regarding Reality.

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Today, while I was updating my professional development log for the year — a required activity that is about as exciting as it sounds — I discovered a quote in a note I had written a while back. 

My first response that I really like the quote. Then, I wondered why I hadn’t written down who said it. I usually do. 

The next step was, of course, googling it to find the source. 
I googled the whole thing. 
I googled key phrases. 
Surprisingly, I couldn’t find it anywhere. It’s just not out there. 

“Reality is what’s left over of the known universe for those who don’t read books.”

Possibly… me?

Is it possible that I said this? Is it possible that the person who came up with the term “face pants” for a mask has actually had more than one episode of lexical genius in her lifetime? 

As soon as I asked that question, cynical self interjected with the observation that I can’t be much of a genius if I said something this good, and then forgot about it. My optimistic self then reminded me about the existence of absent-minded professors and those super-clever scientists who forget about everything except what they are working on at the time. 

So, the reality is that I may have said this, and written down my own quote, or I may not. My genius may be transient, or subtle, or so ingrained that I can’t recognise it, or largely non-existent.

Given that this is the kind of reality that is likely to do my head in, I am rather glad that I am one of those who reads books. 

Possibly said by me. In the absence of any other options, I’ll claim it.

Regarding Reality.
#booklovers #quotes #quoteoftheday

And People Wonder Why I Have Trust Issues.

This happened today… and I am very unhappy.

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Anyone who knows me well enough to be in my front yard knows how much I love my maple trees that I have carefully and lovingly grown as reminders of my beloved Canada. I can’t get there anywhere near as often as I want to, so the least I can do is have a bit of Canada in my own garden. It’s not too much to ask.

Today, though, someone who was in my front yard — unbeknown to anyone who lives here, of course, heartlessly ran down one of my maples.

The victim.

Yes, it was a fairly small tree. That is irrelevant, because it was on its way to being big. Big maples cost lots more than smaller maples in Australia, and small ones cost more than enough. More importantly, it was my tree.

The only notification they left of the destruction of my tree was the tree itself, now horizontal rather than vertical. No note. No phone call or text. No apology. No identification of the culprit.

I am so sad. I’m sad for the loss of a tree that actually meant something to me.

I’m also sad that whoever is responsible felt it was okay to not be honest with me.

If I knocked over someone’s tree or broke something that belonged to someone else, I would be guilt-ridden and desperate to replace it.

Apparently, not everyone I know is quite so principled.

Fortunately for them, I have absolutely zero clues as to who is responsible.

Unfortunately for me, that means that my already cynical INFJ mind will not just go “oh well…” and let it go. Self-destructive as it may be, a little voice in my head will wonder ‘Was it you?’ every time I see people I should be able to trust. The question will probably never come out of my mouth, but it will be there, nevertheless.

The group of people in whom I have  absolute trust was already  a very small group indeed.
And people wonder why.

A Spooky Story For Halloween

This very spooky true story is a perfect short read for Halloween week.

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I hope you enjoy this creepy tale as much as I did.

Want to read a true spooky story? In Godwin, (near Erwin), North Carolina on a dirt road past the Chicora Civil War Cemetery,  sits the antebellum …

My Spooky Story For Halloween

A Little Kindness

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This afternoon, while I was in the supermarket, I saw the lady who used to do my father’s in-home care until he moved into residential care in May.

We started charting, and it became evident that she didn’t know the details of his passing in June. Somewhat surprised by that, I told her of his decline over the last few days of his life, and of my honour and  privilege in holding him in my arms as he died.

As the conversation wound down, I thanked her again for taking care of Dad, and for taking the time to stop and chat with me about him. We both blinked back tears, and then we parted ways.

I had held my emotions together while we were talking, but had a bit of a cry to myself in the otherwise empty pet supplies aisle a couple of rows over.  I told myself I should not feel silly,  nor should I try to hide my feelings. It had been a while since I’d had a cry, and it was probably healthy to let it go.

Still, standing among the bags of cat and dog food and kitty litter in the supermarket probably wasn’t the best place for it.

I thought I had got away with out anyone else noticing, but a lovely young man who worked in the store approached me and asked if I were okay. I told him I would be, I just needed to pull myself together. I managed a weak smile, hoping it would be enough to reassure him.

He smiled back and handed me a little purse pack of Kleenex. I realise that may not sound like much, but it was an act of kindness that brightened an otherwise  miserable moment, and one for which I am very thankful.

I’m also thankful for the reminder that it doesn’t always take much to make a difference in someone’s day.

As the popular saying goes, “in a world where you can be anything you want to be… be kind.”

It occurred to me as I was writing this post that this is the second time  in recent months that I’ve been surprised by the kindness of a young person when they’ve seen my tears. That thought made me smile again.

A Little Kindness
#kindness #ChooseKindness #KindnessMatters