Father's Day

Although I used this quote last year for Father's Day, I like it.   My dad was always there.  

My dad is not a typical man.  He doesn't hunt or fish, doesn't watch or play sports.  The only typical thing is cars.  

But he taught me many lessons that have held up well over the years.  Be honest.  Use common sense.  Be real.  Family is number one.  Do what you enjoy.  Be committed.  Be rational.  Love animals.  Respect the elderly.  Don't flaunt your wealth.  Don't act like you're better than anyone else.  Be humble.  Love and accept your family.  Don't give up.  There's probably a lot more that I am forgetting.  

My dad may not be a typical man, but he is the best dad.  He provided for his family.  He sacrificed his health for his family.  He pushed us to be more than we thought we could be.  He was hard on us when we were kids, but I think he was trying to toughen us, especially me, living in a world that doesn't accept differences.

A month ago my dad fell off his lawnmower and broke his hip.  He was in traction for three weeks, and is now in a transitional care center, trying to regain his strength.  The first week he was in HCMC, an inner city hospital in Minneapolis.  The care was ok, but in the next two weeks he was in an awful transitional care center near there.  Only two places would take traction patients, so we had no choice.  It was a hell hole.  We despaired of him surviving it.  As soon as he was out of traction, my mom got him out of there and into an 100% better care center near home.  

It is hard to watch someone that I depend on so much be in such a sorry state.  I don't like the thought of my parents growing old.  I don't like to see them hurt by people that are supposed to take care of them.  I don't like seeing them in such a helpless position.  

I just love my dad. I respect him, admire him, and am so proud of him.  He is a good man with a good heart.  And I am so blessed to have him as my dad.

Facing Reality

My dad is getting off traction today, and the docs will decide what to do next.  I can't imagine what it was like for him, being immobile for three weeks, having to depend on people he doesn't know.  He is a man that depends on very few, because he trusts very few.  Running a business for so many years you meet a lot of people that make you wonder if this country is going to hell in a hand basket.

I laid on his bed yesterday and cried, just wanting him home, just wanting him the way he was.  Will he be like he was?  Or is he forever changed?  Is our lives forever changed?  When my grandparents died, it wasn't their death that I grieved but what their lives were before they moved out of their little yellow rambler.  I still dream of that house, the basement that my cousin Kris and I used to play in.  I still think of the many holidays we spent there, the many nights of sleeping in the couch, drifting off to sleep with the muted sounds of the television and the little Christmas lights on the little white flocked tree siloutted against the picture window.  That is what I grieved, that those memories would be all that I would have left, for there would be no more holidays in that little yellow house.  

Maybe I am making a mountain out of a molehill, as I tend to do, but I don't like this.  I don't like change.  I don't want to see my parents get old and feeble.  I want them to be forever strong, active, happy, lively.

It's the same feeling I had when Chocolate died.  It wasn't his death that I grieved, but his life, that would no longer be.  No longer would he go for walks, play with his toys, or climb his climber.

I just don't want to lose anymore.  I love my parents too much, I depend on them too much.  There is so much loss in life.  It is hard to love anew, again, for I know that nothing lasts.

I am sorry for such a depressing blog.  Maybe I am ovulating.  Maybe I am tired.  Maybe I am bored. Maybe I miss my home.  I don't like the not knowing.  I just want my dad home.  I just want life to be back to normal.

In Flanders Field

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Memorial Day

 

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863

Mid Life Crisis?

 

As you may know, I have been volunteering teaching ESL to adults for six years.  This past year I have had the opportunity to sub for a teacher a few times, as no sub was available through the school district.  I found that I really enjoyed this.  I love volunteering here.  I love the students, and the staff are great to work with.  And they love me, and always tell me how much they appreciate what I do.

 

I have been trying to figure out what to do with my life.  I'm not ready to adopt another pet, and I actually miss having a career.  I miss that feeling of accomplishment.  I miss feeling good about myself.  And of course, the money doesn't hurt either!  I asked the teacher I work with if there is a program where I could learn how to do this without having to get another college degree.  I already have a Masters teaching degree in early childhood and early childhood special education.  She suggested Hamline University.

 

So I did some research, talked to some people, and here are the results: I can get a certificate in Adult Basic Education/ESL from Hamline, which is 12 credits and all online.  Then since I let my license lapse five years ago, I can use these credits to renew it.  I know that some school districts require an Adult Basic Education (ABE) license to do this, of which is only offered at the U at this time and is 24 credits and not online.  Hamline is looking into offering the license for the future.  So I figure after my 12 credits, I can renew my license and sub, getting some experience.  So if I have to get an ABE license, I can do that later, my credits will transfer.

 

I hope this works out.  I am excited about it and surprised I didn't think of it sooner.  But I think I was so consumed with Chocolate, his problems, and then his death, I couldn't think of anything else.  And I was writing.  I hope to finish editing this summer and then self-publish through Amazon as a kindle book.  This is free, they just take part of the proceeds, if any.  I can always republish later if anyone ever actually picks it up.

 

I have been writing for 10 years, and need a break. I want a "normal" career.  I miss teaching, and I love it, and I am good at it.  But I can't physically handle little ones, nor ones with disabilities, and I am tired of trying to stop behavior issues.  That was the worst!

 

So we shall see.  I could sure use your continuing prayers.  I know I can't do this on my own.  I have a tendency to make bad decisions, on impulse.  I liked this meme as I could relate.  I have many jobs and none I want back!  Except for teaching.  You ever have a feeling when you are doing something and it is not you, you somehow manage to rise above yourself and surprise yourself?  That is how I feel when I am teaching.

May is Mental Health Month

NAMI hopes to bring awareness of mental illness and stop the stigma against it.  Having attended a few support groups through NAMI this year it has been an eye-opening experience. Some of the other members have been institutionalized, numerous times.  I have never been and hope to never be.  I hate hospitals.  They are a lonely and depressing place.

I think my meds are what keeps me from them.  There is something amiss in my brain that causes me to experience such anxiety that I can't think of anything else, only the thing I am obsessing about.  There is the depression that is so deep that I feel like I am a zombie, a dead person trying to function in life, but failing miserably.  

I will probably have to be on meds for the rest of my life.  And that is OK.  I know what I am supposed to do, to think, to believe, to pray.  Yet when I am in the throes of anxiety or depression, all that becomes impossible.  No matter how much I want sanity, it eludes me, and I flail about helplessly like a fish in the boat.  

This is not the the life I chose.  No one chooses mental illness.  No one chooses to be plopped down on a planet that makes no sense, and I am constantly the object of scrutiny.  No one wants to live this hell on earth.  

But we are here.  We aren't going anywhere.  I think we scare people, because we demonstrate that humanity is not in control.  Things happen that is out of our control, and that is scary for us.  We don't want to know that we might never get out of bed, or we might never get to sleep.  We just want to live our lives the way we want.  This is a delusion.

We don't always get what we want.  But we can want what we have.  Last week, after seeing a friend in the hospital so sick and helpless, I was reminded of what I do have.  Family, friends, purpose, faith.  I have more than most of the world.  I have what many want: a roof over my head, clothes to keep me warm, food to fill my belly.  

I am blessed.

Before I go, I just want to say that if you don't agree with me about mental illness, that's fine.  That's your prerogative.  But please don't judge those who do have mental illness.   You don't know what it is like to live with it.  More than anything, we just want support.  We just want to be loved.  Isn't that what anyone wants?  Support?  Love?  We get enough judgement in our lives.  It just worsens our burden. Life is hard enough. 

Mother's Day

When I was in trouble not only did my mom say my full name but she also inserted my dad's middle name: Francis.  So it was, "AMY JEAN FRANCIS HETLAND!" 

But in all seriousness, I have the greatest mom in the world.  I visited a friend in the hospital today and it took me back to my own hospital stays as a child, and how my mom was always there during visiting hours.  Except for the time she was sick so my dad came.  

She went with me to all my doctor appointments.  She stayed through all my dance classes and recitals.  

When I came home from school she made me Spaghettios and grilled cheese, knowing full well I didn't each lunch at school, for I was too fussy.  

She played games with me and took me shopping.  She always tried top keep me out and about, knowing that in my depression I just wanted to hole up in my room and wait for life to somehow miraculously change.

Even now she knows when there is something wrong.  She worries about me.  She tolerates my craziness, but still tells me to drive safely.  

Her motherness never ends.  But I guess that's what a good mother is.  She never stops being a mom.