Sarah Lemon

I think having the last name Lemon would be sweet. Like, if I  were to live out my dream and become a famous writer of some sort, my writer name would be, Sarah Lemon. I think lemons are pretty.

This morning on the way to school the kids and I were listening to our favorite morning radio program, Elvis Duran and the Morning Show. One of the show's host shared a clip from a Carly Rae Jepsen interview. Carly said, although she is thankful "her" song, "Call Me Maybe" was her first hit, she would really like to be known for more than just that song. Now, being the responsible parent I am, I took this opportunity to share with my children a valuable life lesson. I said, "Kids! Carly Rae Jepsen, will only be known as the girl who sang, 'Call Me Maybe' for always and forever! She's being crazy!  Kids, it's important to know these famous people are SO ungrateful! She has like a million dollars for that song, and she will always and forever only be known for that song." I took it farther, I said, "It's like it's our fault she sang that song! Just like it's our fault that Miley Cyrus played Hannah Montana, or Marsha Brady played Marsha Brady (Marsha's real name didn't come). Kids, these people, they're greedy! Like, me for instance, I'm your mother, but I don't give a crap that I'm known to your friends at school, as only your mother. And I don't even have million of dollars to show for it!". My kids sat quietly absorbing what I said. They get me. My kids really get me. Keyton said, "The NERVE of Carly!" Hal said, "They did it to themselves."  Me-"Exactly!" Then Hal and Keyton climbed out of the car. The hell with cleaning, I'd accomplished something big in that car this morning. I'm going to kick up my feet all day.

Happy Hoppy Little Jolly Farmer

I used to hold people to a certain level of expectation.  Not anymore--that's too much. I've learned not to expect anything from anyone. If I don't expect, I don't get disappointed. Obviously, this is not entirely true. I hold my children to a certain level of expectations--and that can't change, or I'll disappoint them. I expect my husband to continue to be the man he already is--a kind gentle soul.

When you stop expecting, you stop being disappointed. I think it's okay to say (even though it's awkward) I trust few. I've trusted and I've confided in too many people. I'm a talker--and now I've turned down the dial (well audibly). 

My mom started to tell me a story tonight, but then she stopped, because she knew the plot would burden me. I get invested--I feel for those who are hurting--and this has been something of an actual problem for me. I'm too sensitive? Yes! That's it! And yes, it can be a problem-- because people are aware (of my problem) and they can't tell me stories, for fear that I will dwell. I've been lied to, which I do give credit to those who did this to save me from anguish. 

I've tried all sorts of numbing techniques--and that's exactly what those techniques were and continue to be. Medication can be helpful, but they also can be awful. "Give em a pill--that will relax the anxiety ridden!" Well, dude, those anti-anxiety pills are bad for people like me, who want to be numb, because what we are feeling are real feelings, that need to be dealt with. Now, I'm not saying that every pill is that way---just certain medications, because after a time, your body builds up a level of tolerance, and then you need more, more, more! I'm not talking about anti-depressants, those things are great (in my opinion)--and many times are life saving. In certain situations, anti-anxiety medications are needed--and can be life saving as well (but not for me--I think we're clear on that now).

The only possible good quality of being overly sensitive, is that I can be sensitive to others. I can help those who want help. I'm not worried (strange, me not worried?) what people think about me, talking about myself, not being a happy hoppy little rainbow jolly farmer all the time. What I want, is for people to know that if they feel sad, and they too don't feel like a sunny ray of hot pink sunshine at all times, it's okay. If they too, feel like they have a very very small circle of people to whom they can turn to, they are not alone. It's okay to reach out --I will not judge you. I will not label you.  

Anger

Yesterday and tonight, I find myself being angry at times. It's okay to be angry-sometimes. When I'm angry, I'd rather not talk to anyone, because I might be mean, and if I'm mean--it's unfair. I've learned and I'm still learning to stay quiet and away from people when I'm angry, because I've lost relationships, caused by an angry rant for, which I regret later. I don't flip the bird (anymore) to the people who give me dirty looks at my impeccable driving--because I know people might have guns. My kids are exempt, (from my anger) for whatever reason, I'm able to do things to vent my frustrations so I can be the mother they need--like I'll mow the lawn, clean, or write. What makes me angry? I'm not quite sure--but the probable cause, this very minute (and last night), is the fruit wall paper hanging on the walls in my kitchen and the ants who found their way into my house, Really, nothing dramatic--or dramatic, probably dramatic. I could take the wall paper down, but I know we are going to remodel at some point, so the thought of spending time taking down the wall paper, just to have the walls ripped apart--seems like a waste of time. Like, being mad at walls is a waste of time. Some people say (people are probably the re-posted quotes seen on facebook) that being angry is a reflection of being hurt, but, I have to say that sometimes (most) people are just angry for a minute or two and then they get over it (and that's okay!). I'm not yelling at my kitchen walls and pounding on them or anything...I still consider myself sane. And I know, I know I'm lucky to have a home and all that..yada yada yada.

Today, I told Jesse he should become an electrician. If he was an electrician, like my dad, he could be home every night. I also told my brother he should become an electrician today (via text message) and my brother asked, why, and then told me he hates electricity. So, I asked my brother if that means he likes to live by the light of a candle. I thought they (my husband and brother) could start up a company together--I thought I was on to something, but all it got me was an image of my brother in the pre-electric era.

I read a lot of books. I read at night, before I go to bed. I have to have a book in my night stand to start after I finish the book I'm currently reading--or I get angry--again, until I get a new book. Reading gives me ideas. The last book I read was about a man named Judd. Judd's father died right after Judd caught his wife cheating on him with his boss. Judd had to go to his childhood home, and spend seven days with his siblings (who all hate each other) and his mother. Judd's mother said that it was Judd's father's dying wish that their family sit Shiva (Shiva is a Jewish tradition to sit for seven days in small chairs together as a family to mourn the death of the departed, while all sorts of people deliver food and their condolences to their home) The family sits side by side and gets in fight after fight. While sitting Shiva Judd learns that his cheating wife is pregnant, with his baby--the man she cheated on Judd with is sterile. On the last day of Shiva, Judd learns that his mother is a lesbian and that she lied to her children about their father's dying wish of the family sitting Shiva, so they would stay with her for the week. It's a funny book. I guess this book taught me about Jewish traditions/religion. And made me wonder how I would react to such a strange array of travesties and turn of events. I don't think I would handle myself well at all--I'd probably be like Judd and hide out during Temple, in one of  the Temple Israel Hebrew School's classrooms, smoking a joint--and like what happened to Judd, the firm alarm would go off and the sprinklers would turn on. People who know me well, know that would be my kind of luck. However, this book gave me the idea that maybe my brother secretly hates me, and that possibly my mother is a lesbian....just kidding. Seriously, I'm joking.

Smiles

I'm back at being a stay at home mom--when Jess is away. When he is home, I work at the hospital--in a day surgery unit. I've been pleasantly surprised with how much I enjoy my work in this environment. I've had the privilege of comforting people before and after procedures. I have seen tears of anxious people, tears of terrified people, tears of people in pain, and tears of people who are relieved. Compassion and empathy are what drive me--putting myself in the shoes of others, whether it be my patients or my patient's family members. Humor works for most people...either, I'm actually funny, or my patients are just being kind and laugh at my jokes, I don't know, I need to put a smile on their faces. 

I had a man hug me the other day and he cried when he said thank you--to me, for doing my job. That was a humbling experience. I will certainly never forget that moment. 

Weed Killer

Happy warm weather! Jess is gone this week, so I took it upon myself to spray the weeds that have started to grow in my front yard. I was spraying the weeds while talking with my neighbor---I didn't have my glasses on, and without glasses I can't see anything fifteen feet in front of me (well I can, but my distant vision is very blurry). I had this big jug that held the weed killer and a wand that sprayed the repellent on the grass. When I looked up I saw a blond little boy in a blue shirt riding a trike across the street. I pointed the "wand" at the little boy and yelled "Hey, what are you doing? What are you doing across the street? I'm coming to get you!" I thought it was Owen, but my neighbor was nice enough to point out to me that my Owen was next door riding his scooter in the driveway. I looked back at the little boy and he was crying--I scared the crap out of this poor kid. So, I pointed my wand at Owen (and to make the little boy across the street feel a little better), I yelled at the real Owen, "Hey, you get over here now!" I then pointed the wand at the "not my kid" and said "Carry on." My neighbor was confused.

Now it is raining. Will my weed stuff wash off? I hope not. I hope not.

I'm Human, right?

When anything upsetting happens, I feel this extreme need to share. When I disappoint myself, I have this desire to talk about it, because I have no other outlet. When I'm hurting, I let people know I'm hurting. When I fall, I need to be helped up. I sometimes think (to myself--obviously) "Okay, Sarah, lets not tell everyone how you messed up-- keep it secret." I tell myself this, but I can't control the need to share, just in case, my circumstance may help others, and (selfishly) I, in return will receive the support I am obviously looking for. My biggest, proudest achievement, thus far in life, aside from my children, is my sobriety. And, I messed that up--for a few hours. I chose to take a risk, during a weak moment. I'm human. I can't undo what I did. I can choose to not put myself in a similar situation, that proved to be more than I could handle. Am I mad at myself? Sure. Did I beat myself up? Yes. Did I grow a bit from this experience, I hope so.  I won't go into specifics about tipping over in the wagon, but it was eventful. I was like a child with their hand in a cookie jar. I was at a Snoop Dogg concert for crying out loud. I danced, laughed, and I asked every single person, gang members and all, where they were from and what their favorite colors were. I am human. You live and learn. I learned that I still hate not being in control of my own actions. I learned that, I will never go to Mexico again, probably either. I am human--I make mistakes-many of them. I am lucky to have the family and friends I have, who weren't necessarily mad at me, possibly disappointed, but they were more worried about how disappointed I was in myself. And for that I am lucky. For that I am grateful--for these people love me.

Weak?

I'm weak. I am not strong like the lady in the above picture. I have gained some much needed strength over the last couple of months, by pushing hospital gurneys around well...a hospital. This is a huge feat, many of the people I push are much larger than myself, but even the smallest person, on those beds, are hard to push specifically for a person with my lack of muscles. I have no upper body muscle, so all of the pushing I do, comes from my legs, and I often look silly doing a full on squat- run behind not only hospital gurneys, but also full on hospital sized beds. For one, when I am doing the squat run, I can't see over the head of the bed...and for two well, there isn't really a two, just a one. I have started to do push-ups at night to try gain  strength in my upper body area. I always ask for help, and only once or twice have I pushed a hospital gurney by myself. But, I think I am really no help at all, to the people who are helping me push.

Sometimes, I wonder if my lack of physical strength goes along with my lack of mental strength. I'm not always in a lull. But, I'm often in a lull (as I have written about too many times in the past). However, for me it's important to share with people how I feel, because to often people think they are all alone in feeling a certain way, which does not include sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops. This lack of happiness if you will, is a huge burden-- I have a family who is counting on me--I have children who need my attention, and when my mind starts to wonder, it takes a lot of mental power for me to turn off or turn away from THE "blah feeling". I easily get hung up on elements within the world I can't control. I easily let others have power over me. Recently, I had to ask...well...myself, why I let people or certain elements in this world have power over me.  Another question that I've had to ask myself, is why I feel like I NEED the approval of others. Obviously, there are people's opinions I value. But, if I feel that what I have done, or how I acted in a certain situation, was the right way to act and I honestly believe that, even though others may not approve, shouldn't I be able to move on--and not dwell? Yes, I should, the answer is obvious. But, only recently, (like the last few days), have I understood this (I should say started to understand this). Distancing myself from a broad spectrum of what I feel has been unhealthy habits, people, or thought processes will not only help me shake some of the blues away, but will allow me to thrive. The other day, I sat with two of my dear friends and I cried. I cried because I was sad. I cried because I was overwhelmed. After I left them, I felt stupid because I let them see me with my guard down and I let them see how weak I was. However, these two people love me, and I after I stopped kicking myself for letting them see me cry, I was able to recognize that the look they had in their eyes was love. They didn't want to see me hurting, just as I wouldn't want to see them hurting. I believe there are many people in this world that love me that I have not given credit to. It warms my heart to finally be able to start "seeing" this. My husband can read me like a book. He knows me better than I know myself. He has from day one, believed in me. We all have people in our lives that believe in us. Therefore, I encourage all of you (if you is anyone, since I am writing to myself here) to acknowledge those that believe in you. Because, far to often (well in my world) we get so caught up in those who do not believe in us that we don't give credit to the ones do. Thank you for believing in me. Love, Sarah.