Marital Amnesia

I don’t typically write or post unless I’m deeply affected by an event or a feeling in my life.  Apparently I haven’t felt deeply about very much lately.  I guess I just go about my day to day activities and then BOOM, the title of a blog impales my brain and all I do is think about it until I finally write about it.

My own personal experience with marital amnesia might be different than others that you read about.  To be honest, I had never heard of it before, so I thought I was having an original idea.  I guess in this day and age there are very few “original” ideas.  I do however think that this form of marital amnesia should be admissable in a court of law, just in case you get yourself in trouble legally.  I’ll allow that to be my disclaimer for now.

I can say that I have marital amnesia when I’m so used to the way that my spouse reacts to me and around me, and then he turns and changes it up.  Of course it’s temporary, sometimes just an hour or a day.  To say that I’m hopeful is probably a pretty big understatement.  Every now and then, he will be fun.  He will let loose with a spring in his step and smile on his face.  Not the stupid humor smile that I’m so accustomed to seeing day in and day out.  He’s different.  I hesitate to say “normal”, because what truly is “normal” anymore? And what’s normal for me or him might be totally abnormal for someone else.

I was texting my daughter last week and sending pictures of her sleeping-all-day-on-the-couch father, and she asked how I’ve put up with it all these years.   My reply:  because when he’s fun, it’s wonderful.  I take that crumb that he throws my way and want  so badly, so when he IS fun or nice or whatever I’ve always wanted, I forget about all the times that he was a complete asshole.  How strange is it that a person can be pretty much mentally persecuted, but one tiny glimmer of hope will make them forget all of the petty neglect and virtual feast or famine affection?

Marital Amnesia -A SYNDROME WHERE YOU RANDOMLY  FORGET THAT YOUR SPOUSE IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE A ROYAL FUCKING ASSHOLE.

I couldn’t put that at the beginning of the post, I think I would have scared a few away initially and that’s not my intention.  I mean, how many of us have honestly said that under our breath but never had the opportunity to say it out loud, to them or anyone for that matter?  Start writing people, it’s cathartic in so many ways.

So when I thought about my title for this blog, I usually always like to post a song to go along with it, to truly get the whole “feel” of the post.  Nine times out of ten, I’ll be driving to work or home and a song will come on that will just completely consume me and make me WANT to write.  The following is an older song, but one that I have always, ALWAYS felt such an enormous attachment to, mentally.  I watched quite a few versions of this song on YouTube, and to be honest the original has the best vocals but there was one on Jay Leno which featured the lead singer starting the song wearing a black leather straight jacket.  My gosh, what a visual and so very fitting for this blog, but I can’t make you listen to the off key screaming, it’s just not tolerable.   The words might not be completely literal for my perception of this kind of amnesia, but the emotion of the band’s lead singer and the beat just makes me wanna scream, “how’s it gonna be, when you don’t know me…anymore”?

 

 

 

 


Homeboy

I started walking at a cemetery by my house as a way to continue my desire to thwart the evil attempts of menopause and it’s hideous side effects.  That’s another blog for another time.

I was walking for the first time since Zumba classes ceased at the cemetery by my home, parking on the side of the narrow roads on the upper back side of the property. Years ago I parked there when walking with friends and it just seemed like the best place to start.

There are lots of nice hills with an even path for foot trafic and the whole area is just very relaxing and for the most part you don’t have to worry about cars driving by with the occupants viewing your sweaty body and heavy breathing.  In fact, most of the people there have moved on to another place and it’s just a peaceful space for me to be me.

I finished one lap around and was coming back up to where I started my route and noticed a new grave, mounded with dried up dirt, wilted flowers and a makeshift headstone.  As I walked off my path to the grave, I realized who had just been buried there – a 16 year old boy from the township that had recently passed from a racing accident.  I remembered reading about the unfortunate cause of his death and thought about how devastated his family must be.  His father got him started in racing and the picture on his obituary showed him in full racing garb in the middle of a jump.  I thought about his mom, losing a son in a fluke accident in the middle of a crowded race track. I stared at the picture of his face glued to a temporary marker and I immediately got chills.  The hair on my arms and on the back of my neck spiked and I could feel goose bumps on my calves.  I looked around at three glass solar objects positioned around his grave, not lit up yet since it was just turning dusk.  I particularly liked the glass bird at the foot of his grave.  I couldn’t wait to make another lap around so that I could see the bird gleam.  I stepped away from the grave and back on to my path and began walking, all the while receiving an odd kind of message.  Hearing a boy talking to me, but there were no words.  He was not audible to my ears but to my heart.  It’s difficult to explain the way that he came to me, using me for a message.  This has never happened to me before, and although I was not scared, I was uneasy.  He said, “I’m still here, I haven’t gone over to the other side yet”.  I thought to myself that it was odd that he was telling me that, but I felt blessed that he could come to me to tell me that.  He told me that he was sending signs to a woman with light colored hair, and she was having trouble believing what she was seeing and feeling. I asked him for a sign so that I new that this wasn’t just something I was conjuring up in my head.  As I cornered the turn at the top of the path  I saw a robin bird.  Earlier in the day I was telling my friend’s grandson to say, “hi buddy” when he sees robins in the yard, they’re my buddies.  It just seemed like a neat thing for him to remember me with, since my name is Robin.  I used the ‘sign’ of the robin as a sign to me that he was with me.  The robin flew from the top of one headstone to another, for about four or five stones before flying across in front of me on the path to the other side.  I knew this was my sign.  I continued to walk, continuing to think of this young boy and embedding his message in my brain.  I was eventually up on the back road toward my car and noticed his grave was lit by the solar objects.  The bird was beautiful.  I smiled and got into my car.  I thought about writing a note to the family and leaving it on the grave, but I didn’t want to inflict anymore pain onto their family.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about him.  I sat quiet most of the night just reliving my experience.

I was confident that I would keep up with my intentions and continue to walk at my own pace in my own time, whenever  I needed a break from the people who still walk on this earth.  My husband was running to grab a pizza and wanted to use my car to drive there, so I asked that he drop me at the back of the cemetery so I could begin my walk.  Just as we were driving around to that quiet spot behind most of the tombstones where the young man had been planted, I noticed that there were three cars parked on the side of the road by the grave.  I asked my husband to proceed past them and let me out  a few yards away from them, where we wouldn’t disturb them.  There was an older woman sitting in a chair at the foot of the grave, a man and woman sitting up by the area of the headstone.  A couple of little kids with a young woman walking by their cars.  I didn’t want to look at them, I didn’t want to interfere in their grief.

My husband dropped me off and I began to walk, again coming up to a corner at the top of the hill.  There was a robin on the path in front of me, hopping a few feet in front of me as I walked.  I instantly knew it was the boy sending me a sign.  I was glad that he was there with me, but also with his family.  I rounded up to the top part of the lap and down toward the family, still surrounding the grave.  I thought about stopping and telling them what he said to me, but I needed a sign.  I didn’t get one.  I kept walking.  I wanted so badly to tell them that the messages or signs that they are experiencing are legitimate signs.  I wanted someone to bump into me when I was passing, or ask a question.  All three of the women there that day had light hair. That didn’t happen.  So I continued to walk.  I never walked past them again that night, I detoured around another way to my waiting husband.

I’ve walked several time at the cemetery since that night, and I’ve seen the family there one other time.   I continue to see robins on my path each time I walk through the somber but peaceful park of souls  where I spend my an hour of my day.  I know he’s still here, wherever “here” is.

While I walk I like to listen to music, and this song came on the day that he spoke to me.  I’d never heard it before that day.  I believe it to be another sign, please enjoy:

 

 

 


33 Short Years

Writing about things that stir more than just a brief thought can be very cathartic for me.  I work through lots of emotions and my hope is that maybe you might also begin to feel a certain way about what I’m trying to work through.

I would love to be able to talk about the Presidential debacle campaign, but I don’t know enough about the candidates and their specific ideas and hopes for our country.  I’m sure I’m not alone, there are probably many people who grab onto an idea or level of mentality and decide right then and there who they would like to vote for.  I believe it’s mostly superficial.

My thoughts today are coming from a much deeper place in my heart.  Since I’ve started writing my blog, I’ve also followed a few blogs that I enjoy reading.  Some I’ve enjoyed  because I feel like it’s an insight into their own personal reality.  Some are really great reads for inspiration and others for passion and positivity.  I don’t necessarily enjoy reading fiction, I never have.  I have the Hallmark Channel on the weekends for that.

I follow this blog:  https://fightinghodgkinsblog.wordpress.com/author/marybuell/

Mary Buell fought the war that so many tragically lose.  She blogged about the real things, the intense battle that is everyday life in a world of uncertainty and struggle.  The courage that this woman showed in the face of death was unfathomable.  I can’t say that I looked forward to seeing her blog show up in my email, but I counted on reading about her optimism and funny, insightful stories.

So the other day I realized I hadn’t heard from Mary.  My heart raced as I searched through my emails, current blogs and ones that I threw in the trash…..thinking I might have accidentally deleted it.  I couldn’t find anything.  Strangely I remembered the exact spelling of her name, but couldn’t remember the name of her blog.  So I googled her.  I found her twitter and tried to determine what was going on, but all I saw was her last blog, posted February 24, 2016.  There wasn’t terribly good news in the blog, but it wasn’t bleak.  She was positive and hopeful, as always.  I was relieved, but still a bit concerned.

And then I checked her twitter account yesterday.  The picture posted was her holding her son, just a baby in this picture.  She had a full head of hair, and I knew.  I hovered my mouse over the title, took a deep breath and clicked.

She was gone.  She passed relatively quickly, having enough time to say her goodbyes.  She left a small son, just in preschool.  A husband that was with her through every single event in her life.  Her very good friend wrote her final blog.  Finished.

I cried so much last night reading her final blog, obituary and twitter posts with pictures.  I have never met Mary, I never commented to any of her posts.  I watched and listened and felt and hoped and prayed for someone that I never spoke a single word to, but I was a part of her life because she had a message to deliver.  It’s easy to listen intently to the legitimacy of a person, a mother facing death head on.  Her messages were insightful and penetrating and heartfelt.

We learn about life’s adventures by living them.  We listen keenly to words and dissect them to either work for or against us.  We make up our minds to sleep the day away or make each day count.  Nothing is forever.  Nothing.

Rest in Peace, Mary.

 


Just Take the Cookies

I’ve started and never finished several blogs, and that’s just where my life is right now, but I do miss writing.

Yesterday while at work, I had to complete a very in depth, specific project for my husband, and since he cannot double click, I was asked to work on it for him.  Initially I thought to my self,  “hmmmm, he never actually finishes any of MY requests, why should I do this for him”?  I’m not sure if I was thinking out loud, but he looked at me and added that if “we” didn’t get it done by Friday, he would not be able to work, or get paid to work for that matter.  Without going into detail about this particular assignment, it would be in mine and probably everyone in my family’s best interest to get it done.  Since my husband is either working or sleeping his entire life, I was going to be on my own basically.

I started the project yesterday, while at work.  I clearly underestimated the length of time (3 hours) and the concentration level I would need to finish the work.  So many specific questions and detailed answers, so little time.

Long story short, I completed it, and with probably only a minute to spare before my 2pm work meeting.  It was mentally exhausting and I constantly asked myself why I felt the need to take care of his business while taking care of my own.  But I did, like I always have for the past 30 years.

On my drive home from work, I called to let him know that he would indeed have a job and be paid, thanks to me.  ME!  I guess I really wanted more than a thank you.  I wanted a kind of answer equivalent to saving somebody’s life.  I wanted to hear that no matter what happens to us in our lives, I was and am a big part of making his so much more easy.  I wanted a level of appreciation so large that you could fill a stadium with the gratitude.

But then again, this might just be what I’ve wanted my entire married life.  Not to just be “good enough” but to be EVERYTHING, even if it were just for the day.

Here’s what I got….”I’ll bring you some cookies”.  My first thought was to quickly check my look in the rear view mirror.  Was I a large, furry blue puppet with big buggy eyes?  Cookies?  Is Cookie Monster expected to double click?

In order not to cause I fight that I’d never win, I accepted the offer of cookies.  Because I’m happy just to get crumbs, remember?  Here’s how bad it gets, I started dreaming of exactly what kind of delectable treats I deserved for ensuring that he would be able to make a living at a job he absolutely loves.  This is worth something truly decadent. Some ooey, gooey chocolaty surprise.  I can’t wait!

Hours later when he returned from finishing a job and visiting his dad, I heard our garage door go up, and I put my phone down, eagerly awaiting my surprise.  He was rustling some bags around in the kitchen and finally came into the living room.  I tried not to act too jubilant.  He opened a Giant Eagle bag and voila, there they were…..Trefoil Girl Scout Cookies, his favorite.

To be clear, I don’t like Girl Scout Cookies.  They were ordered at least a month ago.  Nothing special, not even bought with ME in mind.  Oh and a box of Do-Si-Dos.  Mother Fucking Do-Si-Do’s.  We used to call them dog biscuits when I was a kid.

Here’s the bad thing.  Here’s the absolutely terrible shell of a woman I’ve become.  Without blinking an eye, without missing a beat, I graciously thanked him for my gifts and told him I wasn’t hungry at the time, but would certainly devour them later.

Because why?  Why have the argument?  Why ask why he doesn’t know that I despise GS Cookies?  Why ask why that each person that came into his view on that specific day go all of his attention, and I got screwin Girl Scout Cookies—for SAVING HIS LIFE.

So what did I tell myself?

Just Take the Cookies.

Please enjoy the music while your party is reached:


On the Road to Reinvention

I feel like I haven’t written in a while.  I know I want to write, but I just haven’t been in a good place, and honestly I haven’t had anything going on in my head that would be interesting enough to read.

Until this weekend.

I know I want to say something about it, I’m just not 100% sure how to go about it, because it’s still kind of a blur to me.  I’m at work right now, and it’s a bit of a slow day, so I turned on my Amazon music.  The very first song that popped up was this one, Hello by Adele.  Have a listen and then come back:

Ya know, we all relate differently to songs. This one resonated with me, and if you could, try to think about the song as myself talking to myself.  Adele is speaking to an old flame, I’m speaking to another Robin.  I can’t tell if it’s the smarter one, the kinder one, the Robin of the future or the past.  It doesn’t really matter which one it is, the only thing that matters is that there is a conversation happening.

Have you ever just sat very quietly and thought deeply about the whys and hows of being in a certain place and time in your life?  I guess this might just be something that I go through around my birthday, but I’m not sure.  You take a moment or an hour or a week and really go deep inside yourself.  Sometimes it’s a temporary audit of sorts.  Sometimes it’s a more in depth realization.  Many times it’s not a fun place to be.  We can all kind of kick ourselves for making mistakes, and we’re all guilty of that.  But what happens when you look through the looking glass and what you see makes you cringe, makes your stomach curl up into a knot so tight that you can barely breath?  You want to breath, you want to gulp the air like you’ve been holding your breath for way too long, but you can’t.  You get just enough air to barely squeak through.  It’s enough to sustain you, but no more.

I think I might be rambling, and maybe it’s difficult to follow what I’m saying, and for that I apologize.

Have you ever wanted to just run away, just get into your car and drive until you run out of gas, then walk the rest of the way to nowhere?  Have you ever wanted so badly just to get the hell away from everyone and everything?  The slightest sound from another person’s mouth makes you wince and wither?  The mundane repetition of your every day life sucks the enthusiasm from your body like a mental power hose.  Your patience for stupidity or any non-agreeable logic is replaced with just a simple sigh.  Your energy is zapped by the constant pressure to do and be.  Be a good wife.  Be a good mother.  Look presentable every single fucking day of your life.  Clean your house.  Cook dinner.  Laundry.  Care and care and care until you feel you’re going to vehemently explode and collapse into a pile of useless cortisol stuffed blubber?

Aren’t we all on a continual journey of reinvention?  For me, I’ve had to reinvent a lot of areas of my life.  Most don’t understand the dilemma that it causes for me.  It might even sound petty and minuscule to many.  For example, my desire to wear heels even though I’ve had many surgeries and problems with my feet.  To most who don’t care to where heels, it sounds ridiculous.  But think about this:  I enjoy wearing heels.  I feel like a different person.  I walk more intently.  I enjoy my clothing more, and actually feel thinner in heels.  I’m taller, so I feel more in control of my life, towering over my problems.  I feel prettier.  Heels do that for me.  I relate to my heels and they never let me down.  Now that you know that, how petty is it really that a pair of heels can do that much for me?  Don’t you feel bad about rolling your eyes (possibly in private) when I’ve conveyed my sadness over losing my heels?  Imagine having the ability to feel better about a lot of things just by putting a certain kind of shoe on your foot.  Who wouldn’t want a sure thing pick me up?  Do you have something that automatically makes your feel better?  It might be a thought or a smell, a food or whatever.  Now take that away. Reinvent yourself, against your will.  You wanna go down fighting like me don’t you?  So it’s not just a pair of shoes to me.

That’s just one of the hurdles I’ve had to jump though in the past say 10 years.  There are so many more that are incredibly important in my life, and they genuinely have all gotten together over the weekend and wreaked havoc on my psyche.  It was a war of sorts, all of them barreling toward me at once, intent on crushing my spirit and send me spiraling toward the deepest part of who I am at the present time.

And it continues to affect me today, albeit more muted and subtle.  I have to have my work face on.  I have to be the fucking academy award winner for her portrayal as a normal person  “other Robin” today.  I’ll pretend everything is fine, not wanting to make anyone worry or judge.  I’ll autopilot – drive the kids to hockey practice and sit and glare out onto the ice with a blank stare, wanting to be anywhere but where I am.

You might not be in the same place as I am right now, but most likely you’ve been there in the past or maybe you’re going to visit there in the future.  It’s got to be one of the loneliest places you can go to, because only you can help you. It’s just one more reinvention on top of all the other reinventions you’ve either failed or succeeded in.

There may be some of you who say, “It’s called life….”, and you’d be right.  That doesn’t make it any more easy or acceptable when you’re going through it.  Try to describe losing a loved dog to a person who has never owned a dog.  It’s difficult if not impossible to understand what someone else is going through, even when they try their hardest to describe it.

I have no idea where to end this post, because for me I’ve got a lot of work in front of me.

….so I’ll just stop typing….

 

 


Memory

I read an article this morning that was pretty insightful and I wanted to share it.   It’s a brief article that you can find here.

Apparently I have a small hippocampus.  Sounds like an oxymoron really.  How can anything named “hippo” be small?  But alas, there is ONE small thing on me, and unfortunately it’s in my brain.

Are you done laughing yet?

Okay, let’s proceed.  Ahem.  It would appear that people who suffer from recurrent depression tend to have a small hippocampus.  Through no fault of our own, that tiny little area in the brain is what allows us to remember important things like names and places, as well as the ability to remember the good times, all things I suck at.  I really dislike the fact that I can’t remember things from my childhood or even last week, but apparently it’s not entirely my fault.  There’s no special diet or magical pill that you can take to enhance the size of your hippocampal volume.  I’m wondering how men get their own special medicine for enhancement yet we happiness deprived people just have meds that keep us in a fog and diminish our emotions?

This isn’t going to be a gripe session, in fact it’s going to be relatively short.  One of the reasons for my brevity is due mostly to my time frame to write this and not forget to finish it.  The other is because I usually always (secretly love saying that), like to include a song that conveys my reason for writing.  I struggled a bit but then found this gem in the archives.   I’ve never heard of either of these people but I believe I’ve seen the conductor before.  But I can’t be sure, because I’m so forgetful.  At any rate, I watched this video 3 times.  Once to see if it was a good match for my blog post, once again to watch it more clearly, the beautiful dresses and backdrop, and the last time for a good belly laugh.

When you watch the video, please watch Andre Rieu the conductor, give his special kind of looks to singer, Mirusia.  I thought to myself, “Rob, that’s how some people actually look at you, especially when you’re so forgetful”!  She’s oblivious, which makes it even funnier.

Take a peek:


Fly

I’ve been putting off writing anything for a while, because I didn’t want to write about anything angry.

And I’ve been pretty angry lately.

I know what I want to say, but I don’t want to throw the blame around too much.  I guess I want to edit my words in order to be understood completely.  I struggle with getting my point across accurately.

So here goes:

Some years ago I walked into my bathroom and found a lightening bug crawling inside my sink basin.  I remember watching it struggle up the side of the pedestal sink, and falling back down.  I actually stood there for a minute or two thinking to myself, “doesn’t it know that it just can fly away”?  Maybe somewhere in that tiny little brain it walked around, surrounded on all sides by a virtual opaque jail.  It probably couldn’t see that if it just looked up, freedom was not so far off.

I eventually reached into the sink and let the bug crawl onto my hand, walking it outside to the front porch where it eventually flew away.  I stood there, alone in the front of my house, trying to keep my eye on the lost insect, barely visible within seconds of it’s release and thought to myself, “I am like that lightening bug, I don’t realize I can just fly away”.

I stood quietly in the front of my house and contemplated my own life, feeling helpless and not realizing that there is always a way out.  I do realize that, I really do.  I’m not 100% on what’s stopping me.  I have all my excuses ready for the suggestive encouragement that I hear.  Kids, financial stability, etc.  Apparently always the optimist, I wait for things to change.

I’ve been waiting a very long time.

It seems lately I’m growing quite tired of the crumbs I’m being thrown.  Imagine that you are a mouse, and you are just getting by with the few morsels that are being left for you to consume.  You don’t get an entire feast, you get a small portion of what could be a gourmet spread.  You are surrounded by an aroma of delicacies, you get to see the deliciousness of an actual normal size meal, you can smell it, but you cannot taste it.  It’s not coming anywhere near your mouth.  Imagine how hungry you might be with just a few scant bites.  Eager for the next time that a drop or two is tossed your direction.  You start to think about it often, if not every single second of the day.

I feel like I look around and see a lot of my friends living normal lives.  Nobody is perfect, we all have flaws, but how many flaws do you need to overlook before it just becomes so overwhelming that your whole demeanor changes?

Obviously much thought has to go into ending a relationship.  I’ve been told there are a few options:  Stay and be unhappy, stay and live separate lives or leave.  Counseling isn’t an option, you have to believe there is a problem.  Only one of us believes that.  I want to write a blog in the future that talks about being married to a man with ADD.  I can honestly say that I was unaware that he suffered from any kind of processing disorder.  I thought it was just his personality.  But that story is for another day.

For now I’ll leave you with the inspiration for this blog, and one of my favorite songs of the moment as well as a very cool video***

***This video will not save, so please Youtube Maddie and Tae, “Fly”.  I love this song.

 


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 199 other followers