Shoes, Socks and Masks

I had a blog for over 4 years then went dry last summer.

I never thought I would give my words out again but here I am anyway.

Shoes, they cover the socks that cover my feet. I don't know why I find my feet so hard to reveal. I cover them with socks when I go to the doctor. I wear sandals and nail polish in summer to cover as much of them as possible. Shoes to cover the socks that might be considered silly by some.

Masks. So many masks we wear.

Just like the sock and shoes I sometimes wear a mask of a smile. Smiling when I would rather not. Laughing when I don't feel like it inside. Pretending or faking it, it is a toss up. It is the right thing to do sometimes, to smile or be a part of a group that you don't agree with or understand.

I work with children. It's because I love children. Many of them need an advocate. The elderly also. Why is it I see defenseless people being cast off, forgotten, left on their own for another time. A time when life will fit moments of joy with the children. A time when there is nothing else to do so listening to an older person share of their life memories is not such a burden.

Is is life gets too busy for some. Is it people forget they were once a child and someday will be that senior. Did they have a terrible parent/example.

I will continue to smile and show kindness. I will keep open my ears and eyes to the wondrous way the young people see the most tiniest of bugs or leaves or droplets of rain. I will not ignore the elderly as they pass by me on the sidewalks. Even a hello or smile of recognition can make a world of difference.

MY Space

Did you think I was going to give you my web address on myspace? Not me. I do not call that my space. My space refers to the distance I prefer you keep when near me.

Do you have a space limit also. Surely you do.
I do not like to be called by a nickname if that is not my given name. Nancy can lead to people calling me Nan or Nanc. That's not ok. That is entering my space. I might be ok with a close friend calling me that or my husband.

I will tell you a true story but leave out the name of the facility and the name of the perp so it won’t offend anyone. A couple of weeks ago I was at a facility that I go to at least once a week. There are many people there, mostly the same ones. John Doe seems to always be near an exit when I am wanting to exit. He wants a smile or handshake. I know this because he tells me to smile. I can survive that.

Then a couple of weeks ago as I was making way to exit there he was again. No surprise to me. I did the usual. “Hello”, but added a smile in hopes I would satisfy his need. He stepped in front of me blocking my exit. Hmmm not sure why but I obliged and stopped in my speedy tracks. He then TELLS me I need to give him a hug.

He stands there.

I stand there.

I realize he is serious, he’s not moving.

I put my head down, move forward and I feel pretty sure, I gave him a hug.

It was all so icky that I kind of blocked it all out.

I told a close friend how I felt. The next time I had to go back they promised to run block for me. On the way out the door, sure enough, there was John Doe, watching and waiting for me. I turned to see if my friend were aware and coming to my aid.

Sure enough they ran block for me.

Now that is what I call a friend.

Why Am I Doing This

It was as though I suddenly woke up from a dream. A dream filled with clouds now lifted. I moved from feeling no emotions at all - just going through the motions - to fear, anger and despair.

Why do I do this to myself. I knew it was no dream at all, here I am once again, sitting in this place filled with all that negative energy. Was it me or them, I was not sure but at that moment, it didn't matter.

Can't I slip back into that dream and find the esc button to click. If I could, I would. Then I would feel freedom. There was no escaping. I was here for the count, and counting I did....minutes as they dragged on.

The seats were comfortable enough. The sounds were not so bad. It was the people. The non acceptance I feel every time I enter this building. If I were willing to change who I was, then they would accept me. But I know what they really want is for me to be, think and feel just like them. Why can't I be me. Why can't I be loved and accepted just as I am. Isn't that the way Jesus would be, accepting me as I am. Conforming me, molding me into a likeness of Him and not the likeness of Jane, Liza and Susie.

I took a breath, clasped my hands and placed them ever so politely in my lap, keeping on the oh so interested face as I thought of all the places I go where I don't want to be and why I do this to myself. The opera. Hmmm I like musicals but not the opera. The doctor office. I don't like waiting. Holiday meals with estranged family. No likey. Those places are not so bad since it is for a short time. You can even find escape in most of those places. Bathrooms, magazines, journaling, or even an iPod can make for great escapes. But all the while, faking it. I wonder if faking falls into the category of survival.

I wonder what the others would think if they knew. Should I find then something to think on that would bring my mind to a more lovely place. If so, would I then not find myself enjoying where I am.

Whether the have to place is short term or a weekly or daily event, would I not be more wise to think on these more. Finally, brothers and sisters, keep your thoughts on whatever is right or deserves praise: things that are true, honorable, fair, pure, acceptable, or commendable. Or, I could simply lift myself up to a more heavenly place, and gaze into the loving and gentle eyes of Jesus.

Plans

Are you kidding? I remember walking to Chet's Meat Market after school with Ronnie Jacobs for a Watermelon Jolly Rancher. He paid a whole one cent for each one back then. It was my sixth grade year.

The sixth graders I spend time with now seem to feel they are grown up and ready to hit life head on, and all the adults are blocking their way. Unlike most of them, I knew there was much of life ahead of me. I was looking forward to all that was to be.

Ronnie, my first boyfriend, was of course in my mind, to be my future husband. Silly me. I wonder where Ronnie is now and what track his life is on. See what I mean about plans. One day we just weren't anymore. There was no big break up, we just moved on, after all, we were only 11.

The Walton's had a nice family. Everyone got along and once the kids grew up, most likely they would build a home, with pa, on one of the acres of the property.

One day in my late twenties, early thirties, I discovered I was from a dysfunctional family. I had never heard that word before or closed myself from it. All the holidays and non holiday time we spent together, all the phone calls, laughter and caring words escaped in soap bubbles into the dark universe.

That was when it began for me. 'It' being a downward spiral of disillusionment, doubt, fear, confusion. Was I so ignorant that I did not read between the lines all those years. Did I shield myself or was it the Lord's love that kept my childhood from being so ugly by keeping my eyes, ears and heart from the harsh reality of growing up in my home.

First Impressions

First impressions are said to be lasting. Is that the way you work your life? Do you pass someone at work, on the street, at the theater or at church and decide then and there - who they are - what they stand for and if they can enter your space.

A newspaper or a book is that way with some people too. I am not one of those who concretes images of what will be from a first impression of people, in general, but I do that with books or newspapers. I am drawn to colors, pictures or script/font.

Sometimes I admit, I allow myself to let a first impression cause a person to slip 'out of my space'. I don't give them a chance. Fear would be the reason I suppose. Some people, most times men, are aggressive or loud.

You opened this post/blog page and began reading. Don't let the first few lines or pages be your lasting first impression, the decision maker on whether or not you will return or stay awhile.

If you stick with me, I promise to bring you days of joy, tears, relateable moments, secrets and so much more.

I had a blog. Seems like long ago. I ran dry. It was his fault. Long story for another post but it seems right at the moment to place blame somewhere away from me and with someone other than myself. My mind kept being filled with ideas of short stories. I would wake in the night and lay there as thoughts rolled through my mind as I heard the sound of a movie projector rolling. Now that for sure dates me!