Rack'em up, knock'em down

"We live in a take-down culture. And it's not just about proving them wrong, you also have to have more fun than them." - Taylor Swift

Like her music or not, the kid makes a crucially valid point. It isn't enough for someone to succeed. Their every flaw, mistake, and even any awkward move must be picked apart, until their accomplishments pale in comparison to their missteps.

Is it any wonder so many people feel unworthy of their own breath?

I used to squirm ashamedly beneath the weight of the ugly words and the cold stares, and when it got to be too much I'd have to find some hiding place. I'd escape to a new neighborhood, a new town, or a new love. I'd drown in the distractions until the memories drifted to the surface to gasp for air, and then I'd float away again on my sailboat made of anchors.

It never got worse, because really, nothing is ever worse than the faded cries of lost little hearts. Oh, my heart, with the cracks that only got deeper by the day. The nights I would allow the crevices to rip another chunk of my soul from my chest, lying on the floor in a pile of agony, begging and pleading to a God I didn't believe could possibly believe in me anymore. And then the tears would dry, but the soul never truly healed. Lungs can't breathe oxygen from a vacuum, and dead things can't be healed.

I didn't want to heal.

I wanted to be shredded to ribbons by white-hot knives, feeling every millisecond of the searing pain, just as I'd heard in that trembling, small voice on the phone. I wanted the pain to swallow me whole, and to never feel the breath of hope whispering in my ear. I didn't deserve it. I deserved the empty, cavernous void I'd built myself.

Except that sometimes I wanted out.

So I'd climb, but only halfheartedly believing the chains would break. Then the tug. I'd look down and see the shackles, and instead of putting up a fight, I'd convince myself it would be best to let them be. The chains were stronger, looping through the iron rings of self-hatred, embedded in crumbling concrete walls that dripped with desolation.

Little lights would shine, but when the flames were weak they'd only blow out and their wicks disintegrated, destroying the hope of ever being re-lit. When the flames were strong, they'd light the way for a little while, providing some warmth. Eventually, though, toxic flames will singe and burn and leave scars. So for a while, I began to try to grow in the dim light drifting through the cracks around the door. But few flowers bloom at twilight.

What I hadn't expected was that the roof would be so permeable. It began as something to pass the time: I'd poke a few holes, and a few stars would shine happen to shine through. Those few twinkles of light would encourage me to poke a few more. Soon, a skylight. Not long afterward, the roof began to crumble, and those small little voices were in my ears again. Only now they're not small anymore. And they're the music of angels in my ears.

Sometimes I'm afraid of being buried under the weight of falling debris of wasted past memories. Sometimes the scrape my cheek, or graze my side. But though the cell is still there, it's at least as big as an amphitheater, with a clear view of the sky all around. I suspect I'll climb out eventually, once I've rebuilt the steps to the door.

But outside the door, that's where the light truly changes, and the trees take over the crumbling paths with thirsty roots and fill the sky with shimmering leaves that reflect the sun.

Becoming the Rib

As I was on my way home from work and the grocery store today, I heard an amazing interview on the radio.  The show was on the Q90fm (90.1 in Appleton/Green Bay) Naomi's Table show.  It truly inspired me to stop and think about how we as women view men and relationships.  It also validated a conversation I had yesterday with another truly amazing and strong woman who has helped me immensely, whether she is aware of it or not.

I am a strong woman.  I have the tendency to crumble under high amounts of stress, which leads to panic attacks and sometimes even tears, but I am highly independent.  Throughout my relationships, one theme has resurfaced over and over again:  I hate relinquishing control over myself and my home.  I would very much prefer to do everything myself.  Men have a strong desire - no, need - to be providers and protectors within their families and relationships.  They want to fix everything.  Men need to know their purpose as a strong, solid rock within a relationship.  It's a woman's role to nurture and protect this within him.

Biblically, a woman is to be submissive. I'm not talking about cowering in the corner and obeying his every command.  For a very long time, that's exactly how I saw that Biblical view.  Part of it has been my own personal experiences, but there is a big difference between survivor and victim.  I took the definition of survivor to an extreme.  It was the means to my survival to be so strong and in control of everything.  

It was a good thing to take these last two years off and remain intentionally single.  It was good for my heart, for my mind, and for my own healing.  It has been good for my children, they've needed this time.  I needed to be in control and strong to defeat the doormat syndrome I'd held for far too long.  It has been a means of finding my heart, healing the scars, and moving on to a healthier, more stable life.  I have chased dreams and accomplished goals I never thought I'd actually achieve.  Though I still have far to go, I feel successful.

There is a time for everything, though, and the time has come for me to relinquish at least some of that control.  I will always be independent and strong.  I will always have my sense of self.  It's simply time to be womanly again - and I now understand that to be womanly does not mean being weak.

The interview on the radio show today was about the relationships between men and women.  One of the points that really hit home was about woman coming from man's rib.  Not from the head, to lord over him, not from his foot to be walked on.  From his rib.  Why the rib?  The rib is a strong, but flexible bone.  The rib's function is to protect the heart and lungs. 
So how does this correlate to our relationships as women?

It is a woman's job to protect a man's heart.  I'm not just talking about the wishy-washy function of the emotional heart.  The physical heart pumps blood, which is one of the basic essentials for human life.  The stronger our blood, the stronger we function.  We strengthen our relationships with our womanly capacity to nurture.  A woman's strengths lie in compassion and understanding.  We're sensitive to everything around us, to the emotions of others, as well as our own.  We need to be in touch with those abilities, and to work with them to nurture our relationships.  

The ribs also protect the lungs.  Our lungs re-oxygenate our blood.  We breathe in cleaner air, and exhale what isn't useful.  Woman, with her capacity for compassionate understanding,  have the ability to be the voice of reason.  Men are typically action-oriented. They fix things.  Women who take control are also taking away some of that vitality from a man, by not allowing them to function fully in their roles as protectors and managers in relationships and in life in general.

The woman being interviewed (I wish I would have heard the beginning, or at least a name, so I could give her proper credit) spoke of relationships as a garden.  Gardeners know to prune unwieldy, wildly-growing plants.  The parts that are pruned are called "suckers" - literally sucking the life out of the rest of the plant.  We need to prune ourselves, as well.  We need to remove some of those untamed parts of us which keep us from growing stronger and more beautiful.  Pruning isn't always pretty.  We're sometimes left barren, feeling ugly and raw.  That's exactly where we need to be.  We need to cut off all that excess and return to the person we're intended to be.  We need to grow from those unruly life-suckers and become stronger, more full and well-developed human beings.

Over the past month, that's exactly where I've been.  I've been pruning.  It's sometimes been ugly, and sometimes very raw.  It's also been a beautiful growing and learning experience.  It's been about finding myself, truly and meaningfully, and growing into someone better and more fully developed.


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Kindling

Oh, dear blog, it's been so very long since we've talked.  So much has happened these past several years since I threw you so callously to the wayside.  Yes, I have missed you, really I have.  It's just that somewhere along the way I forgot how to carry my voice through you.  I forgot how good it felt to bleed the passion in my heart into the words on your pages.  I let life get in the way, and the fears creep in and take over that part of me you once held.  I let the cobwebs cover your corners while I allowed my passion to die a slow, quiet death. 

For so long I didn't see the error of my ways.  I allowed myself to think you were a silly passing phase, and that my passion for writing at all was just one of the ghosts of my past.  I gave up on giving my thoughts a voice.  Instead, my thoughts became tiny blips, miniature social networking posts which barely drew the bat of another's eyes. I allowed the pain in my life to become my sole focus. 

I did some positive things.  I went back to school, where I earned Honors recognition, learned new skills and honed some skills I'd let get rusty.  I conquered the dreaded speech class, and even learned I loved it - as long as what I spoke about was one of my passions.

I'd forgotten what living passionately felt like.  I'd forgotten the joy I once found in words and in spilling my overflowing thoughts onto the page. 

I want you to know, dear blog, that I have rediscovered my passion for you once again.  I've reclaimed the intensity of my love for writing and for the words that pour from my overflowing mind onto the page, baring my heart to you. 



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Gracie's Words of Wisdom

Last night my children and I watched The Nativity Story, a beautifully done movie depicting the events leading up to the birth of Christ. The idea was to give them a better understanding and almost first-hand view of why we celebrate Christmas and the importance of God in our lives.

There was one part that was difficult for us all to watch (though there was no graphic violence shown), the part of the story about King Herod's murder of all male children under the age of two. Herod had ordered this because prophets had described the coming of a new king, and because of his fear of being overthrown. My seven-year-old daughter Grace (whom was called on occasion "The Little Prophet" by a couple of members of our church in Indianapolis for her comments on various biblical subjects) had much to say after the movie:

"People should be loved and cared for, and babies should be loved very much. People should not be hated. They have to be loved very much. We have to love each other, not be mean to each other. They have to be respectful and very nice to people, and especially God. They need to love the children."

For those who don't know Gracie's history, she is a miracle child in every sense of the word. Doctors told me to abort her, that because of medication they'd prescribed during my first trimester carrying her, she would likely not make it through the pregnancy. Even if she did actually make it to birth, they said, she would have severe deformities at the very least. I was told she would have poor quality of life, and that I would have a special needs child. They told me the chances of her being "normal" were slim to none.

I prayed. One night her name popped into my head, along with the quiet assurance, "She is a girl, and her name is Grace." Even though the baby's gender had not yet been determined, I knew with all my heart that my baby girl would be fine. Doctors wanted a large number of tests done, but I denied them to do anything invasive. Even though several ultrasounds found nothing wrong physically, they said that breathing problems and cognitive deformities were impossible to avoid - but I was having a girl.

I went into labor at five months along and was placed on medication to stop contractions and steroids to help develop her tiny lungs. I was again told there was little likelihood of her survival. Grace held on and remained strong.

Three-and-a-half weeks before my due date, Grace decided she was ready. With a room full of NICU staff and lots of equipment, doctors told me to prepare for the worst. They told me to be prepared, because she would have to be placed on a respirator. They said she would be in the NICU for at least two weeks and my contact with her would be limited until she developed enough to breathe on her own.

On on June 12, 2003, Grace Kaye Elise (meaning "grace sweet and pure") was born perfect and healthy. Her APGAR scores were all nines and tens, she squawked just enough to let them know she was alive, and she nursed immediately. Grace rarely cried and was a happy, inquisitive and very intelligent baby. At all of her appointments with the pediatrician, she continually shocked them with her progress and verbal skills.

Gracie is a brilliant, strong-willed, confident little girl with a beautiful voice, and who has memorized and sings everything from Mozart and Beethoven to Taylor Swift and Colbie Callait. She wants to be a ballerina and singer, and maybe a doctor, too. She is full of wisdom and compassion.

 


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The Obligatory (& Much Belated) 100 Things

1) I was born in the year of the pig.

2) I’m an Aries.

3) I share a birthday with Hayley Mills and James Woods.

4) My name (Shanna) means:

~ Hebrew: 1. Beautiful, 2. God is gracious; variation of Shannon; lovely

~ Nickname for Shoshana (Hebrew) "lily, rose"; short form of Shannon or Anglicization of Shaina. From Hebrew Shoshana ‘the lily of the valley’ or ‘a rose’ ‘you will find happiness’.

~ Generally considered to be a modern form of the name Sean, an Irish form of John. Shaina also means 'beautiful' in Yiddish.

~ Celtic/Gaelic Ancient God (Shannan)

~ Gaelic: little wise one (Shana, Shani, Shanna, Shannah, Shannan, Shauna, Shawna, Shannon), also connected to an Irish river Shannon 'old and wise'.

~ Shanna Quay: From the Gaelic "seanachi" - which means a 'storyteller', or someone who passes down the culture, history and myths of Ireland by word of mouth - as in songs and poems. It is pronounced Shanna-key. In Ireland, the word 'quay' is also pronounced like 'key'. (Many thanks to Steve Power of Shanna Quay - an Irish Music website which is sadly now defunct - for this lovely description!)

~ Old English: Lily

~ Slow Water. God is gracious (Irish/Hebrew). A feminine form of Shane.

5) My favorite flowers are soft pastel-colored daylilies and sweetpeas, white waterlilies, dragonfly columbine hybrid and dogwood. There is a day lily named Shanna. I also love the legend of the dogwood.

6) I am an INFP, and addicted to personality typing.

7) My childhood nick-name (given to me by my uncle Devin) was Snickersnot.

8) If I'd been a boy, my name would have been Shawn. I have a brother named Shawn. He rocks.

9) I also have a brother named Eric who totally rocks, too. And a sister named Shannon, who's also pretty awesome.

10) In all, I have four sisters and three brothers.

11) I have five children.

12) All of my kids have high IQs.

13) I have three boys and two girls.

14) My father's side is Irish and French were some of the original settlers in Cajun territory, Louisiana.

15) I have a 'thing' for geeks and/or nerds.

16) I think of myself as a geekette-wannabe-in-training.

17) I'm strong-willed, independent and stubborn.

18) I think I'm also nuts.

19) I plan on a career in Physical Therapy or Nursing.

20) And I want to be a web/IT geek when I grow up.

21) I also want to be a naturopathic doctor.

22) I am an ADHD crafter.

23) I love gory horror movies.

24) I also love chick flicks.

25) I love vegetarian food,

26) But I'm not a vegetarian.

27) I love chocolate, especially Hughes.

28) And Chicory coffee

29) I love Thai food (to cook and to eat).

30) I like to make soaps and toiletries.

31) My favorite scents are lemongrass, jasmine and any citrus.

32) My favorite color is green.

33) Blue is a close second, but really it's any color in the ocean-y colors that do it for me.

34) I love mermaids and Gwragedd Annwn and mermaid designs.

35) I even have mermaid Polly Pockets (which I stole from my daughters, tee hee).

36) I love and feel an affinity with Marlene Dietrich, who was largely misunderstood.

37) As was Marilyn Monroe.

38) I love crab and salmon sushi rolls,

39) And I sometimes make vegetarian sushi rolls.

40) My favorite band is the cure.

41) I am addicted to music and pretty much love any and all kinds, especially alternative rock.

42) I sing along with the radio constantly.

43) I want to sing with a band just for fun sometime.

44) I have a lot of friends in bands and music.

45) And not just in school bands.

46) I'm a craft addict.

47) I’m obsessed with sewing machines.

48) I have six of them.

49) I also probably have more craft supplies than Hobby Lobby.

50) Which isn't true, but I wish it was...

51) I love to shop at import stores and craft supply stores.

52) I also love fabric wholesalers.

53) I am a natural blonde.

54) Most of my friends will tell you that I live up to the hair color.

55) I'm also very intelligent. (No, really I am!)

56) Or maybe I'm just full of useless knowledge.

57) I love amigurumi and want to learn.

58) I also love Japanese Kawaii crafts.

59) I've always wanted a navel ring, but never got one (yet).

60) I went to two high schools (but most people know that already).

61) What most people don't know it that while I was raised in the Midwest, I first saw a cow up close in New England.

62) I’m terrified of spiders.

63) The South has bigger and meaner spiders. And LOTS of BIG bugs. Ew.

64) I've worked in some interesting places, including a sewing shop, massage therapy supply trade shows, an RV resort and a health food store.

65) I like my current job the best.

66) I have friends all over the world.

67) I'm most infatuated with Ireland.

68) My great love was an Irishman from Donegal.

69) We're still friends, and I still love and dream about the drunken bastard.

70) I was married to a Sicilian.

71) His ancestors ran a part of the Midwestern Mafia.

72) My ex's family was really into the stories.

73) I got really sick of watching the Godfather trilogy with my in-laws.

74) They also love the Three Tenors.

75) I got sick of that, too.

76) I did, however, gain an appreciation for La Traviata and La Boheme (operas).

77) I've never been out of the country. Not even to Canada.

78) I'd love to visit rural seaside Ireland and rural France.

79) I know a little French and want to learn Gaelic.

80) I listen to music from both countries.

81) My youngest daughter counts in English, French, Spanish and Korean. She's 5.

82) My oldest tested 2nd in the state of Wisconsin in the 3rd grade.

83) His principal called him "frighteningly intelligent".

84) My second-to-youngest had his IQ tested at 140. He was 6 at the time.

85) I first entered college in Interior Design.

86) I ended up finishing in Early Childhood Education.

87) Now I plan to go back to school for Physical Therapy and Holistic Nursing.

88) I love to write.

89) I once dictated an entire (original) story for a girl in a lit class (Doc's class - in CT).

90) I spent so long at it I didn't finish my own.

91) She got an A and claimed it as her own.

92) She later told me her mother planned to send it in to a magazine. I was secretly pretty pissed about that.

93) I still plan to write a book one day.

94) My favorite author (both for his writings and his beliefs) is Kurt Vonnegut.

95) I'm also really into Amy Tan's work. She's amazing.

96) I love history and historical fiction.

97) History was one of my worst subjects in school.

98) English and literature were my best.

99) Along with Biology and Allied Health. After graduation, I wanted to become a Radiologist. I put it off for my ex-husband and children.

100) I believe, above all, it's most important to do what you love.

From The Mouths of Babes

Gracie, my 5-year-old, is about to play some Noggin games on the computer. I need to first explain that Gracie is wise beyond her tender years. She's got such a beautiful sense of the world around her.

Once, when things were pretty tough around here, she came up to me and said, "Mommy, we've tried this and it's just not working. We just need to try something else now." Trust me, at the time and considering the situation, it was as though the Dali Lama spoke through my tiny little diva.

A few minutes ago, I told Gracie that today was Happy New Year Day. There was that wide-eyed look and the sweet little intake of breath that little innocent ones have when they're in awe and she said, "Really? Today is Happy New Year Day? Do we get presents on Happy New Year Day?"

"No," I told her, "Not presents."

Her response is one I wish for all of you:

"So Happy New Year Day is when we give love and share things, right Mommy!"

Happy New Year, everyone!

La vie est un lieu fou, mon cher. Que notre sanctuaire être les uns les autres

Our lives are so short and so limited to our own perceptions of what we're capable of. What's the difference between the couch potato who dreams of something more, and the man who climbs the Himalayas and lives his dreams? It's only faith. There is no wall, no separating boundary between what can be done and what we believe is impossible. Those dreams of something more can be realized with just an ounce of pure, honest faith. Believe it will be, believe there's a way. There is no such thing as "too late" until you're lying in bed, taking your last breath. Please don't wait that long. Make it come to be.

There are very few times when life throws you something pure and good and true. When it comes your way hold onto it with everything you have. Give it everything inside you and make sure there can never be regrets, because eventually it will end, however temporarily. Everything ends. Even true love dies, when the promise of "till death do us part" becomes a reality. See it, realize it, hold it in your hands and allow yourself to feel everything it brings to you. Release your heart from fear and negativity. Just be in it. Let it envelope you and heal whatever it is inside you that fights it.

A friend recently lost her mother. However devastating that may have been, though, there was something even worse about it: Her step-father lost the love of his life. Their beginnings were so important to them that they would return to the location of their first date on its anniversary every year... until she died on that very day.

When you see that chance, that one thing that has the potential to erase every other pain you've ever felt, it's as crystal clear as the stars over the sea, even if it seems completely insane to the rest of the world. Don't listen to them. Hold on tight and never let it go, even when all seems lost. And if you can't hold it in your hands, just keep it safely locked in your heart until the day your dream becomes reality.

True love can never be forgotten.

Catching Up

Yesterday was a pretty good day all around. Lots going on, and lots of stress, but Pollyanna prevails!

It's recently come to light that a certain Irishman I've had a crush on for a very long time had actually been interested in me for just as long, and I do enjoy the mushiness on the phone - just wish the proxinity issues were a little easier to deal with! I'm in it deep with this one, boys and girls...

Then I was able to speak with my Dad (which is difficult because of his lack of a phone of his own), who began the conversation with "Hello, my darling daughter!" We had a great conversation and I'm hoping to visit with him (in New Mexico) in the very near future.

The kids are now in Tae Kwon Do and have lessons four times a week. It's amazing how fast even Gracie is picking up Korean. They're having a ball with it, though as soon as I can afford it, Gracie would like ballet (uh, Mommy's not made of money, lovey!).

I also heard from both of my little brothers today(on Dad's side, we're not associating with the Mom side now, remember?). I love them to death, but we get so little time to talk, with one in Alaska and the other in far Southern Indiana. I'm so proud of both of them. I just wish I was in contact with my sister (Northern California)... Bygones, ok sis? Oh well, I love you anyway.

Other than that, I was working three jobs during the summer (one was seasonal) and am now back down to one - but looking for another second job. Money's definitely tight, but life is pretty much ok. Just workin' out the kinks, so to speak.

The amount of back support owed to me is now up to over 20 thousand dollars. Criminal charges have finally been filed, so wish me luck on seeing any of that - we could certainly use it!

Anyway, I'll post more as time allows. Most of you who need to should already know where to find me 'til then!