One More Scar

Yesterday, I had one more small spot of basal cell carcinoma removed. 

(It will leave a scar, he said. I'll add it to my collection, I said.) 

All things considered, it was not a terrible procedure. It wasn't on my face, so that's pretty good, really. It's a few finger widths down from my collarbone. 

(There are smaller stitches so the scar will be less noticeable, and you will be more comfortable wearing lower cut tops, he said. Thank you, I said.)

The initial bandage is a bit bulky and obvious -- no hiding that -- but I can peel that off after 24 hours and see what I'm really dealing with. 

Scars don't necessarily bother me. The idea of going through this procedure every few years does. Though again, not my face this time, so less unpleasant, means small win. 

I picked up dinner for myself at the local tiny/posh grocery store afterwards, because Not Cooking After Unpleasant Experience. I tucked my shirt under the strap of my purse over my shoulder to try to obscure the visibility of the bandage a bit, because I hadn't figured out a short-and-snappy explanation if anyone asked. It didn't work particularly well, but the parking lot was not crowded, so I mustered my wherewithal, tried not to be self conscious, and went in. 

(I like your shoes and you look great! said a pleasant lady I didn't know as I entered. Thank you! I chirped in reply.)

The only two compliments I have gotten from strangers in the past year (including this one) -- for I remember the other one, too -- have both been at times when it's been very clear that I am at that moment, In The Midst Of Some Kind Of Medical Unpleasantness. And I am grateful to the strangers -- both women -- who took it upon themselves to try to better my clearly not-great day with some nice words. 

It's been a rough road in many ways lately, but perhaps the world is not entirely a garbage fire: because every now and then, a nice lady says something kind at the right time. 

Happy Birthday, Dalai Lama

As long as space endures,

As long as sentient being remain,

Until then, may I too remain

To dispel the miseries of the world.

Naive

It took me nearly 58 years, but I have finally (finally) learned... the Universe is not fair. 

Oh, my naive younger self. 

I grew up in an era of Girl Power! Girls can do anything! and Be whatever you want to be and If you just try a little harder, you will get the right grades/get into the right school/excel at work. Or even, the subtle and unspoken but nevertheless very clear message, if you try hard enough, if you look the right way and say the right things and don't ask for too much but give your all at the right time and in the right place and in the right ways, you will finally be understood and be loved the way you want to be loved. 

If you failed at any task/job/mission, it was simply because you didn't do enough. Do more. Try more. Use more words. Put in more effort. Achieve more accomplishments. Keep going.  Nothing but success. Don't mention not-successes. Those are a shame not to be disclosed. 

I am proud but not surprised, people would say -- because as everyone kept telling you, it was possible to do anything and be whatever you wanted to be.

But: No. No, it is not. 

I have tried my hardest. Done my best. But sometimes, things don't work out. Because Life is Not Fair.

The Universe is full of entropy, and occasional Badness, and full-on Nonsense at times. Sometimes despite careful deliberation, we make the wrong choices; or we make a seat-of-our-pants decision and then must tackle consequences we did not anticipate. We don't remember the multitude of times everything works out fine. We never forget the times things do not work out at all. 

And there is the compounding problem of People: people are endlessly complex. People live in their own worlds. They don't always understand, or do what we would like them to do, or want what we want. We love people who live at a distance (ah, my Offspring, my family of origin, my Friend), and their absence from our daily lives creates a void that cannot be filled. Sometimes, people are hurtful -- whether through negligence, or deliberately. We need people, want people, love people; cannot bear too many people, have been harmed by people, disappointed by people. People. They are exhausting. 

Perhaps I am lucky that it took me so long to lose my naivete -- for with naivete came optimism and hope, and those have carried me quite far. 

Or perhaps, because I held on to my naivete so long, the pain of the emergent realization that Life is Unfair, is exceptionally Deep and Wide and Encompassing. I am struggling right now with the knowledge that I may never accomplish certain things, may never fulfill particular wants. And that's just How It Is. 

The hope that remains, is that one day a greater Hope will come back to me again, and I will find my inner warmth once more. Life is Unfair, yes. But perhaps I can, through Grace, make it a little better where I am. That's the best I can do. 

Duck

Herself speaks.

I am cleaning out closets -- an onerous task, to be sure -- and sorting contents of all sorts of miscellaneous boxes.  Old school papers, dollies, drawings, Legos, Care Bear miniatures, costumes. All of the memorabilia of the childhoods of the Offspring.  And I came across a box with some baby things: some fuzzy onesies, the little blue winter jacket that everyone wore, a duckie blanket. 

My heart. How are the Offspring so grown up now? 

I miss seeing them. They are such lovely people, the Offspring. I hope the Universe spins in their favor, always. 

Where We Are All At

 Herself speaks.

One of my goals for myself is: to meet people where they are at. 

It's a challenge, because: where, exactly, are they at? 

I know that I want certain things. In particular, I want certain things from certain people. It's important to acknowledge reality, though:  sometimes, what I want is not within the realm of what people are able to provide to me. It's not that they are deficient, or wrong, or otherwise at fault. (Nor am I, come to that.) It's just that we want different things. I need to respect their capabilities and their limitations. (As they do mine.)

Let's take the rabbits as an example. I sure would enjoy if any one of them would let me pat them. I want that. (So much.) However, not a one likes to be patted. My desire to pat a rabbit cannot somehow magically cause them to hop over and sit on my lap for pats. I have to meet them where they are at -- which is to tolerate sitting in the same room, and for me to offer them snacks which they will accept from my hand. That's the best that they, and I, can do together. 

And I must extend this understanding to my People. I want what I want; but what I want is borne of my own needs and desires and hopes. They have their own lives; their own wants and needs; and their own abilities to do and to see and to understand. I need to recognize where they are at, and meet them there. 

The question then becomes: how loudly -- and specifically -- do I speak what I want, in case they are able to meet me at that place of want? And how prepared am I to hear, no, that is not within my capability?  

I want to be understanding of the "no" of others: to be able to say "no" without being criticized or rejected for doing so is a rare gift.  At the same time, my fear of a constant stream of "no" renders it difficult to even ask in the first place.  But if you ask for nothing, you get what you ask for. 

It's a quandary.

It has been pointed out to me more than once, that my ongoing --- inability? failure? hesitancy? --- to specifically state what I need or want, has essentially trained those around me to assume that I can take care of myself and all of the things without help. That's... not inaccurate. Yet all that knowledge does, is make me feel bad for not using the exact right words, or for not asking multiple times, or for otherwise not being *just* the right way to somehow elicit the response that I may have needed at a particular moment. That's not helpful. I don't need that pointed out again.  

The best I can do, I think, is to consider carefully all the factors; to ask for specific things; to understand the "no" that may invariably arise; and to keep going.

One step at a time. 

Front Hall Flashback

Flashback:  Mr. Uncle Tio and Tiny Dog, taking some leisure in the sunshine. 

Good puppies.

 

Neck Pillow

 She's just so... cylindrical.