Front Row Seat

 Herself speaks.

I am a very slow learner. 

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It took me a long time to become a fully developed human being. People were always difficult to understand, and neither college nor professional school really taught me what I needed to know to navigate Life in a sea of people of assorted motivations, attitudes, temperaments, needs and goals. (This is why I always loved school, though -- academics were my strong suit. People? Notsomuch.) 

I was engaged very young (at 21), and married young (just a few days after my 24th birthday), and had my Offspring young as well (at 25 and a half, 27 and a half, and just a bit after 31 - getting old there!). I was able to hide my social insufficiencies behind the roles of "Fiancée" and then "Wife," plus "Mother". And overlapping with that time, I spent many, many years telecommuting, so my interactions with other people were often very limited. I did not need to learn more than I already knew. 

Then, there came a time when the needs of the Offspring necessitated particular activities, and I ended up having to out of my comfort zone of my usual roles. It began at the taekwondo gym, since Offspring the Third (who was being bullied in grade school) needed both the means to protect himself, and a group of peers with whom he had a sport in common. And (somewhat begrudgingly, and rather terrified-ly), I interacted with the other adults at the gym, and became Friends with some of them. And it was delightful.

As time went by, I discovered that there were cliques and whispers and problematic interactions amongst the people at the gym (and the teenagers, too), and that was my first lesson in adult heartbreak: not all people were to be trusted, and not all people were honest or forthright, nor said what they meant. Not everyone is kind. Not everyone is nice. It was a shocking and bitter lesson.

Nevertheless, the greatest good came out of that experience: I made, and have kept, my most Cherished Friend. 

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In the time since then, I have continued to work on my people skills and my people experiences. Time has shown me that my original roles of Wife and Mother were too limited: one cannot be a full person, if one exists only in relation to others. 

Children grow up and become their own fully-fledged human beings (and lovely ones at that, I might say, my beloved Offspring), who no longer need their Mother (as much). And as entwined as my life is with Beloved Husband's, and even though there exists in movies and literature this romantic notion that one's spouse is one's Everything, the truth is that it is both unrealistic and an unfair burden to ask one human being to fulfill the entirety of another's needs. It takes a village to raise a marriage. A spouse must have -- beyond their husband or wife -- siblings, parents, family members, and friends, to support and to spend time with, to enjoy and to enhance the human experience. Sometimes a spouse cannot (for a multitude of reasons) Be There. Other people are a necessity. 

Beyond family, there are acquaintances, colleagues, friends, professionals, and even public figures, as well as all sorts of People who impact one's life, whether directly or indirectly, either momentarily or more long-term. A world of People-ing.

I have also learned, though, not to expect much. Because People... disappoint. 

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One of the characteristics I appreciate about Cherished Friend, is the depth of his understanding of People. When I have been mystified or dismayed, I have been able to ask him Questions about People, or have been able to talk through what is perplexing me. And to his credit, he has never made me feel Stupid for my incomprehension. He has listened. And explained when necessary. 

It occurred to me today, that Cherished Friend has had what is essentially a Front Row Seat to my gradual disillusionment with People. He has seen it all: my annoyance with generic human misbehavior. My anger at Pandemic misconduct and at political shenanigans. My rage at injustice (both large, and very personal). My despair at words and happenings that have broken my heart. Rumination and loss. Everything. 

Has it been hard to witness my gradual loss of faith in Humanity? 

He is such a patient soul. 

Never did I imagine when I walked into the taekwondo gym all those years ago, that the Universe would bestow upon me there, a gift of a tiny seed of Friendship; and that over the years, that seed would be watered by innumerable tiny moments to become the sheltering tree it is now. 

He has made the sting of Life Lessons more bearable. I am so grateful.

Oceanside tree, March 2022.

Indigo

 TikTok occasionally pushes a particular song clip to the forefront of the algorithm. Right now, it's a snippet from Indigo (Sam Barber, featuring Avery Anna). It's a very sad song, far more grim lyrics-wise than I currently feel capable of listening to, though I like the melody and harmonies very much. 

There's one couplet -- from which the name of the song is derived -- that does stand out for me right now, though:

I used to shine bright like gold
Now I'm all indigo

This, I understand. 

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Once upon a time, I was a very warm person. Nothing made me happier than to tend to other people, to be kind without expectation of return, to be generous of my time and attention and care. People should be loved. It seemed simple.

Ah, but People. 

I am a very slow learner. The lessons have been unduly painful. But at long last, I have come to understand: People will take Everything.

People will take what is given, and take more than what is given, and take with expectation, and twist what is given for their own purposes, and take without thanks or understanding. Sometimes malignantly, because sometimes People are Terrible. Yet not always maliciously -- sometimes merely self-centeredly. Or because they Need. Or because they are afraid of Never Having Enough. Or because they are simply accustomed to putting themselves first. 

The end result: my warmth has been spent. I am cold and tired. 

I used to shine bright like gold, now I'm all indigo. 

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I do love the color indigo. I do not want to be indigo, though. 

I would like very much to feel safe enough to let out a bit of warm glow once more. 

Grapes, Laundry, Rhodonite, and Other Things We Do Not Believe

Las doce uvas de la suerte, tradition dating back to 1800s Spain, dictates that at the stroke of midnight of the New Year, one should eat twelve grapes in under a minute, while under a table, in order to bring good luck for the upcoming year. 

And so last night, I crammed myself under the dining table with assorted members of my in-law family, plastic cup of twelve grapes in hand, watching the World Clock on my phone. We all dutifully counted down to midnight, and then stuffed our grapes into our mouths, each no doubt with our own personal wishes that 2025 will somehow be Less Awful in our own private ways. 

I do not necessarily believe that these traditions work. Or even help. But if there was even a chance that it might direct the path of Fate into a better direction, I was going to do it, just in case. 

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There is a belief in Chinese superstition that one should not do laundry on New Year's Day, lest it wash away good luck. (There is also a saying I have seen circulating in various fluff-news-pieces as well as on TikTok, that to do laundry on New Year's Day, is to risk 'washing away' a loved one in the upcoming year.)  Well: the laundry -- particularly that for Mustache, who still needs his washable pet pads cleaned since his health is still precarious -- needs to be done, and so I am doing it today. 

Did I wash away the good luck of last night's doce uvas? Am I risking losing someone?  

The likelihood of my laundry causing harm is small enough that this was a superstition I was willing to overlook. At best, I've moved back to neutral after last night's grapes. At worst... well, the past two years have been so full of grief in assorted forms, that I almost feel as though no loss would surprise me. I would simply acknowledge that the Universe has chosen this path for me, and look to see if I can find the way forward. Again. 

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I have always liked polished stones. Texture, color. Pretty. I had to put away the ones I kept in my little zen garden while the kitties were staying with us because the kitties tended to knock them off of the table. Sometimes, I try to identify the stones I have, and then I end up down the rabbit-hole of "what do these rocks signify?" I do not believe in crystals or their meanings, necessarily (any more than I believe in horoscopes), but it's interesting to see what meanings people ascribe to which rocks.

There's a nice pink stone, with veins of black -- rhodonite. I looked up its 'crystal properties': rhodonite is associated with love, compassion, and healing, especially for matters of the heart, and is said to help heal emotional wounds and release emotions that are no longer serving you. It is said to improve communication and facilitate mutual understanding; bring peace and balance to one's life; help with forgiveness; facilitate inner growth; mend broken hearts. 

After the past two years, I might need a piece of rhodonite as big as my actual heart, to hold in my hands, in order to truly move forward successfully into the New Year.  

I'll settle for a small piece to wear. Will it help? Not likely, any more than the twelve grapes. Will it hurt? Not likely, any more than doing laundry today. But overall, it might it bring me the smallest bit of comfort. And we take what we can get.