Be Kind...and New/Old Traditions

I am thankful, and grateful for my family.  This next week starts a time of the year with which in my recent past, I have struggled. 

As time goes on, I am feeling more excited about the holidays! Still, I am aware that there are triggers in my life.  Just 11 years ago on the 22nd, my mom passed away from Brain Cancer; it was also a day on which I was celebrating my 20th wedding anniversary. Daily I think of my mom with joy in my heart, but I was older when she passed, unlike my sister who was still a young adult.  My sister was just 26 years old, a few years married and had a one-year old when our mom died. My sister and I talk, and I know she misses our mom a lot.  I think about my sister's three children, and all they have missed by their grandma not being around.  I do find myself recalling family traditions from my growing up days and I try to share those with my nieces and nephew, as well as with my sister, and my own children.  Two years ago it was impossible for me to even think about the holidays.  I know that wasn't fair to my own two kids, but emotionally it was just too much for me to handle.  As my children grow into young adults, and as I am becoming more distant from my past history, I am finding that I am able to re-invent how WE celebrate the holidays.  We are creating our own new, family traditions.  We blend traditions from my youth with traditions from my children's life.  I am able to choose all those traditions which I have enjoyed.  Thanksgiving is now MY holiday.  I have claimed it back as a way to help me enjoy life.  My sister and her family will come to my house to help continue building our new traditions.  I will be in my element as I work in my kitchen to create our feast.  We will dine on those traditional recipes that were ours, along with those traditional recipes that my children grew up on.  We will play games and laugh.  We will play music and dance.  We will take pictures and veg-out.  We will go to my downtown and be witness to my community coming together to kick-off the Christmas season with the official Canopy  of Lights lighting.  We will get out my Christmas tree and decorate my house.  Just a few years ago I couldn't do this by myself.  The life lesson I've taken away here...don't do it alone.  Count on others in your life!  

Another life lesson, is that we need to be kind to others.  We need to be kind not just to those in our community in need, but to our friends, our family, and to ourselves.  Heaven knows the holidays are hard, period.  Commercialism has made society feel we all need to have the perfect illusion of time spent together: thank you, NOT, Hallmark.  But, the holidays are extra hard when one has gone through loss, and everyone knows someone who is dealing with, or has survived loss.  One may know loss as death of a loved one or beloved pet, rough spots in a relationship, or divorce. Some people may be dealing with impending loss of life, financial stability, or family members struggling with addiction. When my mom died, it was the day before Thanksgiving in 2006.  Thanksgiving and Christmas were surreal that year. Dealing with loss can manifest as depression. Stress compounds feelings, too. As the year is drawing to an end, there are deadlines to complete, mid-year graduations making some wonder what they should be doing next in their life, or stresses in the workplace.  Please reach out to your friends and neighbors.  Just send hello, or hey, how are you doing?  My personal experience has been to hunker down in my house and to wallow in my own sadness instead of reaching out to others.  There were times when it was hard to adult, especially when others seem to have it all together and be so happy.  Illusion is a powerful weapon. I am happier now, but I do still watch those around me and judge myself against the illusions I see.   

Be kind.  

Don't feel you have to do something just because it's always been done a certain way.  There is joy and power in re-inventing happiness.  

Happy Thanksgiving my friends!  

~Lisa Kroll
     love warrior, sister, friend, etc. 

Emotional Manipulation...an example

Mother's Day... a day when we honor our mom.

More than likely, mom is the woman who carried us in her womb for nine months.  She protected, nourished and loved us, before we even entered the world.  When a man and a woman have a child, it is possibly the most intimate experience they can share. Not long ago, men weren't allowed into the delivery room, but now they are not only welcomed, but are active participants, being asked to cut the cord that binds their child to his or her mother.  The woman may carried their child, but the man is the witness.  He witnesses the growth of his child as he or she goes from being a home pregnancy test result, to a small bump that grows into the size of a basketball.  He witnesses black and white images on an ultra sound machine.  He is witness to that incredible event of the birth of his child.  He witnesses as the child travels from the safety of the uterus, through the pelvic bones, and out into the world where the first breathe is taken.  A man witnesses the transformation of the amazing body of a woman.  There is no doubt, a woman's body is truly amazing.

I have given birth to two children.  To me they are blessings beyond compare.  I no longer need to protect them as I once did.  The nourishment I offer is mostly emotional, with a side helping of real calories. I love them more than they can every possibly know.  They are two amazing human beings...a product of the childhood they were given.  

Mother's Day 2013

In February of that year, he had started pushing me away.  What was wrong with me?  I didn't seem to be doing anything right. I sought therapy to find answers on what I needed to do to help change myself for him, for us.  We were still sleeping in the same bed on Mother's Day.  When I awoke that morning, I turned to him and confessed that I missed "us", I missed being intimate.  Had I expected the lashing that followed, I would have remained silent, I would have kept my thoughts to myself.  

I didn't expect what followed.

-----------------------------

me-What are you thinking?

            him - What are you thinking? 

me - I realize we are probably just going through something, but I miss our intimacy. 

           him - When did you see your therapist last? 

me-Two weeks ago, and I'll see her this week. 

           him - Why aren't you seeing her weekly?  Are you taking your meds?  

            Have you been taking your Xanax? 

me-The Xanax is only for panic attacks and I haven't needed those for some time now.

           him - What do you talk about in your sessions?

me-Well, I did tell her I miss our sex and she told me I need to back off and not push things. 

           him - What else do you talk about?  

            I mean, I know your sessions are private and not my business.  

me - Well, I worry about how much you ride, and you are the one who told me about Over Training Syndrome.  I wasn't even sure that was a real thing, so I googled it and you seem to fit all the symptoms. 

           him - That's part of being a high level, competitive athlete.

me - I know, I don't understand since I'm not an athlete.  

            him - That's absolutely right, you aren't.   

me - I just don't know any other high level athletes to compare my concerns about you to. I also am concerned because you seem more jovial with others than you are with me.  I'm just trying to figure out what I need to do to help this out.  I realize I'm a pleaser and I shouldn't worry.  I just feel like you give 150% of yourself to your cycling, and 150% of yourself to your job and there is nothing left for you to give me.  I feel like there isn't a balance.  I feel like all I get is a peck on the lips.

            him - "That's all I have for you." 

             You suffer from low self-esteem and you need to work on that.  It isn't my place to tell you daily that I love you, or that I find you attractive or that I think what you are doing is good. 

me - Well, do you feel that way about me though?

           him - Not all the time.  

           You are 49 years old.  When are you going to start taking care of yourself? You have a basket of pills under the bed and you are comfortable taking those to manage things rather than to exercise, and walking the dog doesn't count as exercise.  You need to get your heart rate elevated. 

me - I have so much to do around here.  I don't have time to exercise too.  

            him - What do you have to do?  

me - I have to shop, and cook, and clean, and walk the dog, and work. 

             him - Your priorities are off.  You need to find time to work out.  How much are you on the computer during the day?  How much are you on there morning, noon and night?  I challenge you to write down how much you are on either the computer or your iPad. 

me - You know, my mind just races.  I'm worried maybe you are having an affair. 

           him -  Is your goal to keep gaining weight?

me - I've actually lost 10 pounds since December. 

            him - Well, I can't tell. 

me - I don't care if you can't tell.  You can ask my doctor, they have official records. 

            him - "I'm not attracted to someone whose gut sticks out more than their tits.  

             Are you surprised to hear me say this?"

me - no (I was in absolute shock.)

            him - "I mean, come on (and he touched his own chest) have you looked at me?"  

                (exhale and pause) Do you want me to hold you? 

me - no

I took three xanax that day and emailed my therapist.  

Above is from my email.  Every word is true.  

This is what emotional manipulation from a Narcissistic looks like from the inside.  

I walked Winston as my escape after that conversation.  When I returned he asked if I wanted to go to Goose Pond and see what it was like.  He had asked me this once before.  That previous day we were to go after he went riding his bike.  When the time came for us to go, he was too exhausted.  Today I told him no thanks.  He asked if I didn't want to go because the birds were mostly gone.  I told him I really didn't want to spend any time with him.  

At my next therapy session my therapist told me I could believe what he tells me about myself, or I could go out into the real world and see what the rest of the world has to say.  She suggested I take a trip by myself.  You might recall that I went to the Grand Canyon on my walkabout.  Mother's Day 2013 was the catalyst.  

In September of 2013 he moved out of our bedroom.  In April of 2014 he moved out of the house.  On Mother's Day of 2014 he showed up at the house.  He was mad that I had changed the locks.  I told him he was the last person I wanted to see on Mother's Day.  He asked why.  I said don't you remember what you said to me last year?  His response, "I remember.  You're still in shock aren't you?" 

----------------------------

I needed to write this and share it publicly so I can be released.  I have held this in my heart every day.  When I look into the mirror now, I see someone who was hidden and is emerging.  I need the poison he fed into my soul to be out, and completely gone.  

I claim Mother's Day as mine.  

I do not suffer from low self-esteem.  
I am a warrior.  
I am roaring.

                  ~Lisa Kroll
                      Mother, Survivor, Love Warrior

Practicing Mindfulness

I've been missing my mom these days...and my dad, and Winston, too.  

As the weather is getting nicer, I find I am wanting to wander in the woods, but that makes me feel extremely untethered. I don't want another dog right now, but I miss my hiking buddy.  I am working on learning to be comfortable in my untethered feelings, to enjoy my alone time, and on being mindful.  My alone time is not necessarily a good thing.  Certain tasks allow more time to ponder life.  Alone... I clean my house, and I think.  Alone... I mow my yard, and I think.  Maybe the reason I enjoy music so much is because it distracts my brain.  I am a thinker, but thinking when one is so alone can be dangerous.  My brain is still asking old questions and trying to rationalize what happened: How did I got to this point in life?  Why did things happen as they did?  Maybe if I... Maybe if this... Am I destined to be alone forever?  What if this is as good as it gets?  What if this is all I get?  What if I had my chance?  What if no one wants me? What if I'm too much for someone else to handle?  I know I am smart, strong spirited, capable, a problem solver, and generally, I have a happy heart.  I know I am empathetic, and kind.  A part of what brings me joy is my need to give back.  

So, what's wrong with me???  

I realize that's not the right question to be asking.  NOTHING is wrong with me. I remind myself that I spent almost 30 years trying to make everything in life perfect.  When things didn't go the way they were supposed to, I took the blame.  Whether it was my fault or not. Emotionally, I'm in limbo. I KNOW what I should be doing, but I don't know how to get to the next point.  I am learning to be intentional in my thoughts; to be mindful.  This is my plan B. When I start to feel down, I allow myself to feel the heaviness in my heart for just a few minutes, and then I breathe a few deep breaths.  I consciously think, 'why am I thinking these thoughts right now? I can't change how things are, but I can change my thoughts.' I try to identify my trigger, then, I acknowledge, right this moment, something that brings me joy.  I think about those things for which I am grateful.  It doesn't have to be something big.  It could be simple things like the tea I'm sipping, or Toulouse or Berlioz, or the smell of lilacs, as the scent wafts inside my house through my opened windows.  It could be as simple as my flowered bed sheets  or something funny that happened at school.  This is a conscious effort that takes practice.  

I have disliked weekends for a long time now.  I have a to-do list for school and one for home.  Both are extensive, so it isn't hard to work myself to exhaustion.  However, I know that in order to heal, I need to make, and take, time for myself.  I am working on finding balance.  This past Friday night, I stayed after school until about 7, even though I know I will be going back on Sunday to finish planning out my week.  Was I avoiding going home to an empty house?  Yes.  As I pulled into my neighborhood I could feel the loneliness creeping into my mood.  I'll be honest.  There are times when I think, maybe I should just have a few drinks, numb the pain, block out the loneliness.  Except, that isn't me. I am responsible.  Damn it!  

One time, about a year ago...I grabbed the bottle of Marker's Mark from my cabinet when I got home. I sent a text to one of my friends and my sister, knowing full well that my sister was busy.  "Here's what I'm doing...," I said.  My friend responded almost immediately, he's been through a divorce. He understands my pain.  He has healed, and is in his second marriage.  "Three shots only," he told me. I had to promise to put the bottle away.  I kept my promise.  It helped in the moment, but it didn't really help.  Also, I know it is unfair of me to put my burdens on others.  It doesn't matter if my sister, or my friends tell me they don't mind, it is not right.  I am reminded that life is not fair, but life is beautiful.  In order to see the beauty, we need to be proactive and live in the moment. So, plan B.  

Friday night, I knew I was starting to feel the weight of my untethered-ness. I allowed myself to acknowledge my feelings. I even allowed a few tears. Crying is a good way to release.   Tears released, I asked myself, why am I feeling like this?  Answer:  It's the weekend, and it's a holiday.  I don't have enough time to travel to be with my siblings and get done what I need over this weekend, so I will be alone.  I am also on my self-imposed sabbatical from church, and I don't want to attend another church on Easter, especially by myself.  So, no family and no church.  Deep breaths, and center.  I focused my thoughts on what I was grateful about at that very moment.  I was grateful that I had a house to come home to.  I was grateful that I had a bed to lay on, and kittens who are happy to see me. My kitties nuzzled my nose. My mood was shifting.  Earlier in the day, one of my cousins on my dad's side, had asked a bunch of us if anyone had a certain family recipe.  I did, but I was at school when she asked.  Remembering this request, I got off my bed, and I found that recipe.

circa 1963

  
I shared it with my cousins.  "Look!," I said, "bonus recipe, Pigs Feet!"  (Bleh!!!!) Our parents certainly grew up in a very different time.  

I thought about having a drink, but I came up with a different game plan.  What if I baked the blues away???  I went to the store and I picked up the ingredients to make Easter Cheese, plus a few other things.  I came home and went to work in my kitchen.  I turned on some blues...jazz blues and started creating. 

My Easter Cheese draining.  

First, I made the Easter Cheese.  As kids, my brother and I called it Egg Cheese.  Looking at the ingredient list, Egg Cheese makes sense. 

Breakfast!

Over ripe bananas were on my counter...which lead to banana bread being baked.  I also whipped together some basil pesto.  I'll be making focaccia bread to go with the basil pesto and cheese tortellinis.  Fresh bread out of the oven cannot be topped!  

Another thing I know to be true about myself is that I am capable in the kitchen.  I love having a reason to cook and share my culinary talents with others.  

I wasn't planning on getting out Easter decorations, and then my sister unintentionally tore at my heart strings.  She started sending pictures of the decorations she had out. She was sharing decorations that our mom had made.  Crumbs.  Up to my attic I went.  I got out the bare minimum...only treasures crafted by our mother's hand...plus two critters she loved.  

Ceramic treasures created with love.  

I do miss my parents.  Having little treasures like these ceramic bunnies and eggs to pull out help remind me of the care my mom showed in all she did. I am very much like my mom.  Having the hand-written recipes above, remind me of previous generations.  As I read the Pigs Feet recipe, I recalled family members actually eating and enjoying these.  Uck!  It speaks volumes though about what they had or didn't have.  It also emphasized to me how resourceful our prior generations were.  Waste not, want not.

My dad would have celebrated his 84th birthday a few days ago, and my mom would have been 75 this year.  I feel their presence in my home, and in my heart.  

~Lisa Kroll

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After my morning edits, I must add these Sunday notes: 

Before I went to write last night, my daughter called.  My kids wanted to use my house to share a movie with their friends.  They wanted to show their movie outdoors!  My house is, and always will be, my children's home.  When I returned from writing, I found my carport had been transformed into a drive-in theatre. Food was grilled, beer bottles opened, the porch swing was moved from out back, and camp chairs were scattered about.  Time for the movie.  

Before I had gone to bed, my kids asked if we could share the late morning today.  My heart smiled. When I woke this morning, I found one child and her bf asleep on the porch swing (it folds down into a bed). I made my way back into my kitchen.  Soon, the smells of coffee and cinnamon scones drifted out into the carport.  Banana bread and Easter Cheese were available, too. My son soon joined us and we had the perfect Easter breakfast.  

Cinnamon Scones

Easter Cheese...with salt

Happy Easter to all.  

God is great, and he has risen indeed!  

I am consciously mindful of how blessed my life really is these days.  

Crazy, Gorilla, or Trash?

Relationships bind human beings together.  Maybe you believe in love at first site?  Or maybe you are one of those people who thinks a friendship must grow first before love can blossom. I'm still learning to love that person who makes up my soul. I know that before I can love another, I need to satisfy my need to know and love myself.  I'm still working on untangling my life, or at least learning to run my new life parallel to my old memories.  Little things can trigger emotions.  

**** 

When two people get married, they share so much, and it is understandable that their lives become intertwined.  Even the bible defines how deeply this bond will become: ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’ ~ Matthew, Chapter 19.   

Divorce.  
It won't kill you, but it does shatter life.  
It may shatter a family, other relation -ships, and traditions.  When something shatters one contemplates, is Crazy Glue, or Gorilla Glue best to be used to mend breaks?  As with some broken things, sometimes the trash can is the best option.  What isn't meant to be, needs to be tossed away, or released so a fresh start may happen.

Shattered.....households.  
After my divorce, I made choices that were good for me.  I chose to stay in the house I love, my burrow.  If you look around, you'd see I haven't changed much there.  The house was always a reflection of me.  The love that has flowed through my veins, oozes out and fills that space.  By choosing to live in the burrow, I chose to have my ex-mil right next door.  I accepted, and knew that.  I knew I'd have my former family in and out of my space.  I didn't realize how challenging it could be at times.  Things happen next door and I am not a part of them.  Of course.  That's how life is after divorce.  Things happen in my house too, and my neighbors are not a part of them.  Still, it can hurt.  Mail arrives at my house with his name on it.  Because he changed his physical location, he never has to see my name in his mailbox.  Old habits were that my mil could walk right into my house.  She continues to bring me mail that gets delivered to her.  Even pieces of junk mail, that have his and my name on them.  I know she has to accept things he has done.  He is, after all, her blood...her son.  I am not sure I'll heal enough to mend my relationship with her in this lifetime.  I admit, I hold her responsible for raising him to become the person he has become.  I am not able to separate her from him.   

Shattered ..... friendships.  
Social events I used to attend, and be a part of, are no longer in my life.  Someone else fills the space I once occupied. I do realize that the community doesn't have to go home with my ex, so it matters not to them if they hang out with him for a few hours.  It doesn't matter if he attends these events with me, or with someone new. The community is natural curious.  What is she like?  Who is this new person who thinks she can fill Lisa's shoes?  Maybe the hardest things for me to handle are friend's vocal curiosities.  Some have the gall to ask, 'Is he married now (to the woman he left you for)?'  Think about that...I am asked about HIS state of affairs?  I wonder if he is asked about me?  What can the community possibly say to him about me?  Hopefully, it says, and he hears again and again and again, "Oh, my gosh, Lisa is AMAZING!! She seems to be thriving more than anyone I have ever seen." I certainly feel I am thriving in most areas of my life.  My once contained spirit is feeling comfortable stepping out into the world.  

Some moments I wonder, 
who is this woman living inside my skin?
Where has she been hiding?  

Those moments are getting more frequent, but I do get knocked back down now and again by reality.  Once in a blue moon, someone will say to me, "I looked him up on FB." "I saw pictures of...." O.M.G. I don't need to hear this!!!  

I wear invisible chain mail over my heart. 
I fake being strong better than most anyone knows, but I do have a breaking point.  Sometimes, when I am asked certain, thoughtless questions, I wish to just die.  
Then I remember, 
divorce doesn't kill.

Shattered ..... family traditions and in-law relationships.  
Suddenly, children find they need to split their time, or make choices.  They know how things have always been and may expect all around to make life seem normal.  Life is anything but normal.  Former mother-in-laws may act much like children, and hope life can go on as if not much has changed.  Divorce changes everything. There is no handbook that states how long it takes for one to get over such a deep hurt. 

Feelings ..... shatter, they cannot be collected and mended with glue.  Nor can they be tossed into a trash can.  My traditions have been shattered.  There isn't a glue strong enough to salvage these important parts of my heart.  I have had to toss my old life aside.  New traditions are emerging.  Sometimes parts of those old traditions I have loved, are woven into the new traditions I have started.  I suppose that is natural.

Coming off the heels of Thanksgiving, where one should feel thankful for all they have, I sometimes am reminded of all no longer in my life.  My parents are gone.  My own children are grown and no longer live under my roof.  My family by marriage...well, divorce changes everything.  I no longer have a place there.  

Shattering 
draws an image of millions of tiny shards. 
But shards, 
when looked at in the right light 
twinkle brighter 
than the object they formerly formed.  

My heart knows I sparkle more now than I ever did.  I feel there might be a super nova beneath my surface.  I wonder if 2017 will be the year it is released?   

~Lisa Kroll, eating, praying and loving
...always thinking about life
 and finding beauty in the thinking and in life in general

Blogging music:  Home Alone - Soundtrack (1990) by John Williams

For the love of siblings....

Siblings = longest family relationships

Thanksgiving 2016
With my Sister and Brother

This recent holiday, I shared my home with my siblings, and our children. There were 11 of us in and out of my house over Thanksgiving.  

*******

I spent 16 years growing up with just my brother in my life.  Our baby sister arrived as a surprise blessing long after my brother and I had ironed out our hierarchy.  She was, of course a band camp baby.  Have I told this story?  I was 15 and my brother 13 when our parents sat us down.  "Do you remember that baby you always prayed for, Lisa?"  Yes, of course I do.  "Well, next summer we are going to have a job for you." Really?  But I all ready have a job, at Hannon's.  "Next summer you will be babysitting too."  I was slow on processing what was being said.  My brother, on the other hand, made the connection faster than I.  "What? That's means you did it. Gross. When did it happen?" "We don't know exactly when it happened." "Ugh, that means you did it more than once?"  My brother and I decided it MUST have happened while we were at summer band camp, never mind that the timing didn't work out.  

Our sister missed out on puddle playing, sandlot war games, tree climbing, cousin navigating, family camping/vacations, l-o-n-g car rides, after school latch key-ness, summer babysitter training(we had to train them to deal with us), several months of farm living, new house construction, new schools, boy/girl friends being tortured, car radio dial controlling, calling shotgun, dish washing rituals, Friday night euchre games, weekend chores, becoming invisible when dad paid bills, Sunday dinner at grandma and grandpa's combined with the lack of Sunday night Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color watching when grandpa was sleeping in front of the TV with 60 Minutes on instead of our favorite, and the birth of a sibling.  

A few years after her birth, our sister did experience our father's death with us, but she was 5 and we were 19 and 21.  We felt our roles shift from siblings to caretakers of our mom and little sister.  I know my brother felt a weight on his shoulders as the man of the family after dad died.  Our mother struggled with the loss of her love, and I know I felt responsible for helping life remain normal for my sister. I was set to stay home from college, I had three years completed.  I thought I should stay at home, go to the extension maybe, and help, as did my brother.  Our paternal grandfather wouldn't hear of it.  He said the best way we could honor our father would be to go back to campus and finish college.  Grandma and Grandpa said they would be there for mom and our sister.  And they were.  Still, there was so much my mom needed to go through and they couldn't help her emotionally.  Hindsight is 20/20, and my recent life experience has made me understand that mom needed time to grieve.  Which was exactly what she was doing. 

My brother and I spent many hours during the summer of our dad's death sitting by his grave and talking.  We were supposed to be at church...but we weren't.  We'd take turns running into church to pick up a bulletin as proof that we went, then we'd go buy donuts and sit with dad.  We reminisced about our past and pondered our future. Mom didn't question us when we returned from church.  Christmas was her favorite time of the year.  That first Christmas, both my brother and I were at IU and working retail.  We worked Christmas eve, then headed home to attend midnight mass with mom and our sister.  After church I discovered that mom was still mourning...what did I expect: her loss was just six months old.  Mom had bought Christmas gifts, but she couldn't bring herself to wrap them.  After church, I went to the basement and wrapped all the gifts.  The next morning was our first Christmas without dad.  Mom was so depressed, she struggled to get out of bed.  My brother and I pleaded with her to get up.  She had a five-year old and Santa HAD to come.  Somehow we made it through that Christmas, together.  After that, each Christmas was easier.  I was home for the two summers after dad died.  I watched my sister by day then worked nights so my mom could work days, and my sister didn't have to go to summer daycare.  

Being together as a family has always been easy.  In our early years, my brother and I had spent a significant amount of time pounding on one another, "He's touching me!" "She started it!" "He's in my airspace!" "She coughed on me, on purpose!!!" "He ate the bigger half of the...!" "She took the last...!" "He's looking at me!" "She laughed!" It was how we worked out our hierarchy and it was what bonded us together. I was good at punching my brother, then timing it where mom or dad would see him retaliating.  I think it was a gift I had.  We were experts at driving Mom and Dad a little bonkers.  But in times of crisis, I do know I can count on my brother for anything.  All the experiences we have shared, have made us a strong family unit...even as we have grown and now have our own families.  My sister and I have shared experiences too, but mostly they started as the ones surrounding the seven months of our mom's battle with cancer. We walked that walk together with our brother, but it was mostly my sister and I who took the reins of that beast.  Since then, my sister has helped me celebrate points in my life.  She traveled with me to Disney World where I turned the big 5-0, she helped celebrate my receiving my Masters, and she's been my rock through my divorce.  

My sister and her husband grew up as only children.  These past few days together, I watched their children be normal siblings.  They argued, they socked one another, they played together, they laughed, they negotiated, they snuck around, they mothered/fathered one another, and they shared, always having the others in mind.  My sister worried that her kids were being too loud, too rambunctious, talked too much, were too messy, etc.  They were being kids.  What I saw was family bonding in progress: love building.  They were away from their home base and yet they had one another.  I am a little sad for my sister and BIL that they didn't grown up with siblings close to their age or at all. They stress out when their kids are being normal kids.  It's a kids job to stress their parents out a little!

I wouldn't trade my life experience of having siblings for anything.  My sister, my brother and I were all lucky, and brave enough, to give our children siblings close to their own age.  I trust all our kids will know they have someone they can truly count on when times get tough.  Hopefully they can look at their parent and Aunt or Uncle as good examples of how one should love, respect and stand by their siblings as they age.

After our mom died, I felt even more responsible for the family.  I'm the patriarch now.  I hope I am doing things correctly.  If I don't hand down family traditions, how will our legacy go on? New traditions happen, but I don't want my parents to be forgotten.  What a huge weight of responsibility.  

~Lisa Kroll
          sister, mother, aunt (spelled ant at times), friend, and family member

Tonight's blogging music had me thinking of my mom mostly as she loved Christmas.    Straight No Chaser: all their Christmas music...but my favorite, Indiana Christmas.  

Expectations....

From an early age, I heard...'when you finish high school, you will go to college'.  What was implied:  People who had an education were better than the people to whom I belonged.  I know my parents just wanted the best for me, but somehow they made me feel I wasn't enough as I was. As I read what I have written, I know they were really saying I could achieve so much more than they had.  A child's perspective can be skewed in the wrong way.  Sometimes children think they have more world experience than they really do.  Life is meant to take a long time.  We need time to work through all the challenges that come with the ride.  

Through our life, we play different roles.  We take our cues from those around us. I knew what was expected of me.  I grew up in a gated community.  My parents were blue collar workers.  I remember thinking, how are we allowed to live here?  We were not anyone important.  In fact, we were nobodies.  Rich people lived in gated communities.  I grew up feeling someone was going to find out I wasn't the same as everyone else.  I wasn't elite.  I didn't fit in with the members of this gated community.  True, my parents were hard working individuals as were many of the other parents.  But these people played golf.  They played tennis.  They swam. The evidence was in the golf course, tennis courts, swimming pool and the tags needed to do these activities.  I had these tags.  Yes, I played golf.  Yes, I played tennis.  Yes, I swam.  However, both my mom and dad had to work in order for us to live in the house we lived.  Money was tight.  The budget didn't have much wiggle room.  When I needed dental work, and I needed a lot, I felt incredibly guilty.  I felt I owed my hard working parents for all they sacrificed for me.  There were fights over money spending.  I don't recall there ever being a fight over money spent on my issues, but I was a sensitive kid.  I took things personally.  I'm a sensitive grown woman.  I still take things personally.  I knew growing up that rich people were popular. I was cute, and I was smart, but I was not popular. At school, time and again I'd watch boys go for the pretty girls.  No one really wants a cute girl and when you add smart to the mix, they definitely don't want you.  Cute and smart are not part of the popular group.  So, I spent my growing up years feeling like I was going to be found out.  Someone had let my family into this gated community and we really weren't supposed to be here. Rich people were the popular group and that wasn't me.  I didn't feel that was my family either.  I sighed an audible sigh when I was able to escape the social expectations of growing up, daughter of blue collar parents, carefully living to not be discovered in a gated community. I made it through high school and no one found out.  

I went away to college.  It was my way to repay my parents, and I was still looking for a way to not be found out.  I wasn't that rich girl some thought.  Maybe through my education I could prove that I was capable.  I could take care of my parents, or at least not be a burden to them.  I could take care of myself.  Relief filled my soul when I met people who didn't know where I came from.  I met boys from all over the state, country and world.   They seemed to like cute, smart girls.  Maybe they were just being boys away from home...no social norms to follow.  They didn't know they weren't supposed to be looking at some imposter, non-rich, not popular girl.  I was scared I still couldn't measure up. College was an interesting playground for me. I struck pay dirt when I was asked to marry a boy who had parents that were BOTH college graduates.  My M.R.S.  

Educated people were better than the people I belonged with, right?  This thought constantly went through my brain.  I know I felt I had finally been welcomed into the popular group of life.  Yes!  Success!!!  I made it to the elite group.  To the big kids table.  I was finally worthy to live in the gated community. Academia leads to aristocracy...right?   

It took me over 25 years to learn the lesson: just because someone appears smarter, doesn't make them so.  Nor does smart make one better than another.  See, my whole lifetime I've felt that even though I was smart, I really wasn't as smart as __blank__, some-undefined-one else.  You can randomly fill in the space for that someone, it just depended on the situation or the circumstance.  The truth I know today is that I am not like anyone else.  I am still cute and smart.  My smarts are not the same as yours, and that's a really good thing.  

I once thought there was a perfect family; my fairytale.  This family was educated, and I was allowed to join their "team".  I thought they could do no wrong.  It turns out their story wasn't what I thought.  From the outside, one can only see a fraction of whatever someone else allows to be seen.  That perfect family...turns out they were human.  They are just as dysfunctional as the rest of us.  Being educated just meant they learned their life lessons a different way.  It didn't mean they were better. 

Reflecting on my youth, I had grown up in the perfect family and I realized it much too late.  My own parents had hearts bigger than anyone I may ever know in my lifetime.  My parents may not have had degrees signed from an academic facility, but they were smarter, happier, more loving, more honest, more community minded, and more respected than anyone who has yet to cross my life path. Those are wonderfully big attributes to have and to live up too.  

My mom passed away 10 years ago today from Glioblastoma Multiforme.  I was blessed to be by her side for the seven months we knew about the cancer.  When roles reverse and you need to take care of your parents in the ways you did your infant children and beyond, a part of your soul awakens that you didn't even know existed.  You become a much stronger version of yourself.  Version 2.1.  You realize truths that may have always been around.  Previously acceptable ways no longer become acceptable.  Subconsciously you do change.  You realize that life truly is short.  You start living that thought:  Life. Is. Short.  That means that you start to speak up for what you want in the time you might have remaining on this wonderful Earth.  You realize unfinished dreams, and you reach for them.  You realize how precious the time you have left really is with those you love.  If you are lucky, the person you married as young twenty-somethings is also changing in these ways and your lives will align so you may share the rest of the journey.  Unfortunately for me, I had a different path of challenges yet to face.  In addition to today being the anniversary of my mom's passing, it also would have been my 30th wedding anniversary.  My divorce was official 17 months ago.  Bittersweet day.  Yet life moves forward.  

No regrets.  I do realize I am rich beyond my wildest dreams.  I am thankful to no longer be confined, nor limited. 

Love, my friends.  
Be thankful.  

~Lisa Kroll, definitely eating, praying and loving these days
Feeling thankful for my family and especially for how I was raised.  

Tonight's blogging music:  
The Lumineers, Cleopatra

"Things I knew when I was young.  Some were true and some were wrong."   - the Gun Song, The Lumineers, Cleopatra Album

dedicated to Patricia T. Scubelek-O'Conner
written on 11/19/16 and edited and published on 11/22/16

  

In the Pressure Pot...Living in the Moment

Oh society,  I have lived my life feeling that there is a right and a wrong way to do things. If one is a good girl, does things as prescribed should be done, one will be rewarded in the end. Age has made me wizen up. What I thought was a reward, I see now is a lesson.  We are given lessons in life.  We can grow from these lessons.    

I am at a point now where I know my time on this wonderful planet has a definite limit.  I do not know my expiration date, but I have witnessed other people's physical body decline, and know there is an end.  It's time to be true to me now.  

I have spent my first 50 years trying very hard to always be a good girl.  

Growing up I was a good student.  Almost straight A's.... I'll never claim I was perfect.  
I was home in the evenings when my parents told me to be home.  
I listened to what they said.  
I went to church.
I didn't do drugs.  
I didn't drink in high school...except for one time when I had my first bottle of wine.  Today, I cannot look at Boone's Farm Strawberry Wine, assuming it still even exists.  Just the thought makes my stomach feel queasy.  I must admit, I did lie to my mom about why I was on the floor the next morning.  She found me laying next to my water bed.  I told her it was that time of the month, and that I had bad cramps.  If she were alive today, I'd tell her I was sorry.  I suspect she knew the truth.  She loved the boy I was dating at that time.  She trusted me in his company...alcohol or no alcohol.  She knew we were being stupid.  I'm sure she'd tell everyone I deserved to come home that night and lay on a full motion water bed.  I did.  Lesson learned.  

I went off to college.  The first in my family.  I tried to follow my parents dreams for me.  I was good with numbers...I tried accounting.  Epic fail.  First time away from home, no rules, no one to answer to...I had a blast in college.  I found out I was not meant to be an accountant.  I was good at science too, so I thought I'd major in Biology or Chemistry.  Holy Crumbs!  After the entry level classes, I couldn't hang on.  To be fair, my dad did die when I was between my sophomore and junior year.  I didn't think I'd go back to college, but I did.  I finished my undergrad degree majoring in Education and Science and minoring in Math.  I received my MRS. along the way.  See, Society, I was listening to you.  As a  good girl...I found a husband.  I worked until I had children and then I stayed at home, just as my husband and I wanted.  I raised our children.  I helped propel my husband in his career.  I kept the perfect house.  I cooked the perfect meals.  I hosted the perfect birthday parties for my children.  I celebrated holidays the perfect way.  I coordinated everything for our vacations, so they were perfect too.  I did all that was asked of me...until I was told I wasn't perfect.  

Living for others. 

My mistake.  

I believed an outside voice that whispered in my ear.  
I didn't trust myself.  

When the day came that I started to understand just how perfect I really was, I started to see that others around me were not needed to help me continue to grow and be my true self.  I am not being facetious.  I do believe that I am an amazing person.  Shouldn't we all feel that way on our insides about ourselves?  I am learning to live in the moment.  I had been surviving.  Surviving was not, is not enough for me.  My time is limited, as is all our time.  I had felt that society dictated that I be married forever, and although I do believe in marriage as a life time commitment, I do not believe we are meant to hurt others in the process.  That means I am allowing myself to forgive me: to know I did the best I could at at the time.  The choices I made were the right ones at the time I made them.   

I will continue to be a good girl, but I will live on my terms.  

Society, the standards you set in the past have changed.  You forgot to give me that memo.  On second thought, maybe you gave me that memo and I forgot to read it.  It's hard to be a single girl, who is over 50, living in these times. Trying to date is different, and more difficult, now than it was 30 years ago.  I find myself falling back into a familiar pattern of holding myself back when I meet a guy.  I'm pretty sure they can't handle a confident girl...although admittedly, I don't really feel confident enough in their presence.  Men and women are expected to act a certain way when they meet.  When I was a teen, I had a poster on my wall, it said " You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince." These days I wish I could find my soul mate by snapping my fingers. Vocally I tell myself, and all who will listen, that I do not need anyone.  I think if I say it enough I will believe it. I know I am scared to expose myself and be hurt.  Life experiences can hurt.  But we also learn from what we experience and we grow.  Living in the moment means I need to trust myself.  I need to have faith.  I know that I am smart, and therefore make good choices.  Evaluating my past, I made good choices, right choices, for me.  Life is not meant to be stagnant.  


Last week I intended to write about Harry and Sally.  Can they really meet and just be friends???  Instead of blogging I watched the movie with a friend.  We shared many conversations around the topics the movie touches upon.  In the end, I decided that Harry and Sally can meet and just be friends, but I'm glad they were more. 

My real question lies in what defines intimacy?  
Sex alone does not define intimacy.  I find intimacy in sharing thoughts, desires, secrets, dreams, stories, adventures, goals, successes, etc.... my list is far from complete. 
Certainly it is physically intimate to share ones body, but deeper intimacy is gained when we connect in other ways too.  I miss intimacy in my life...but through self discovery I see that what I had defined in my brain as intimacy was in fact a very limited definition of what my heart believes it to be. Shame on me for forgetting that two people can and should be intimate both physically AND emotionally. 

Valentine's Day is a hard holiday to live with when one is trying to live in the moment and find herself.  Um, Society...get a clue...stop commercializing everything!!!  At a minimum, stop commercializing everything to only be one way.  In school, I teach my students that we are to care for everyone, every single day...not just on February 14th.  Valentine's Day needs to celebrate Caring.  

Maybe I've been trying to define what love really means to me.  Clearly I need to think about this some more....physical plus emotional intimacy = love???  I'll ponder those thoughts over this next week or two.  

best quote from my music tonight...."I want to live and not just survive!" ~Adele, from Love in the Dark on her album 25

blogging music:  Adele, 25
and
Phoenix, their Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix album via Spotify. Special thanks to my son for sharing his music at home.  As always, I am looking for new music to inspire me. 

Additional thanks to those who listen to and chat with me as I ponder the questions I have in this life, especially about relationships.  :)  

~Lisa Kroll, still eating, praying and loving

Day 7: Happy Independence Day

Today is Independence Day...I guess I am celebrating it in the appropriate way, independently.  Most of the day it has been fine to be alone.  This is my last full day in Sedona so I spent time shopping.   Lots of gifts to purchase for those I love back home!  I also wanted to make sure I revisited any place I wanted and had all the pictures I needed.  After being here for several days I can easily find my way around.  Sedona isn't that complicated and it is pretty small.  Its population is about 11,000 residence.  What I like the most is that I feel I can look at the "rocks"now and know which structure is which.  I definitely couldn't do that on Monday.  

 I LOVE Lady Liberty!  

I felt this was a great picture to start off my Independence Day post.  The News and Lady Liberty.  Definitely two symbols representing our freedoms here in the United States of America.

Being from the Midwest, it didn't feel like 100 degrees to me outside.  

I wouldn't mind taking some of this DRY heat back home.  

Bell Rock 

From the road, there are turn offs where you can park your car and hike around most (maybe all, but I'm not 100% sure) of the formations.

Bell Rock

Courthouse Rock

I wonder how you can tell which side is the back and which side is the front?  

Courthouse Rock

 One of my guides, Paul, told me that a long time ago the two structures, Cathedral and Courthouse Rocks, had the opposite names.  Apparently they were miss named in the State records.  By the time the error was noticed it had all ready been put into publications, so the names stuck.

Chapel of the Holy Cross

It was raining the first time I went over to the Chapel of the Holy Cross, so clear skies was my excuse to head back.  I took the opportunity to say a few more prayers, light a few more candles and to thank our creator for all my friends.

The Chapel of the Holy Cross looks out at Courthouse Rock and Bell Rock

I'm not sure who is in charge of naming the formations...but I'd like to see this one called Little Eagle.  

Doesn't it look like someone carved a statue up there?

You might need to click on it to enlarge the picture.   

Coffee Pot Rock

The last formation I wanted to capture today was Coffee Pot Rock.  It is almost visible from my room.  

I've been luck enough to look out at Chimney Rock and Capital Butte all week long.  

I believe there is another formation called the ship, but I'll try to get that picture tomorrow as I head out of town.  

More Cactus flowers

I can see how Walt Disney was captivated by these little critters.  I need to dedicate these next two pictures to my dearest BFF, JM.  

Long ago we were called Chip and Dale!  :)

Golden Mantled Ground Squirrels

Last night I headed in to town at dusk and I saw this statue.  I couldn't tell if the little girl was real and pretending to stand still or if she was part of the artwork.  Her eyes sort of scared me though and I needed to comeback during daylight...just to check.  

The Cowboy Painter

*****

 Different Travel Note:

 My bathroom has one of these lamps.  I have a LOVE/HATE relationship with it.  I LOVE it because I can really see everything on my face, and I HATE it for the same reasons!  I kind of want one for home, but I am glad I don't have a counter to set it on, hence, I will NOT be getting one.

Side Note:  My eyebrows have never looked so good though!

*****

Tonight I went to a Laser Light show as Sedona's "fire works".  See clips of it...from my phone so don't expect anything to fancy...by clicking here: Sedona 4th of July 2013
I have it set on YouTube so hopefully that link takes you there.  

I saw these two siblings at the school where the show was to be held and it made me realize I really am an animal person.  I wanted to go and love on them both!  

What I learned today:  

     

     * I really like buying gifts for others.

     * I really like animals. Technically I all ready really knew this!  But I know I cannot live without animals in my household.  It is nice to be able to travel and not have to worry about someone caring for them, but most of the time I do not travel and their loyalty and love is something I enjoy.  

     * Holidays alone are okay, but sharing them with family and friends is much better.