Hit 'em When They are Good and Low

I will not even to pretend to know hardly anything about relationships, friendships, any of that business because it is about as complex and personal as it gets, but I will say this... I do know what hurts me.

The sad part is I think it has become so routine, so quick for us to do this to each other, that it is considered being a good friend or good partner. We are all short on time, energy, and capacity to be upbeat and positive. I mean, we all have to do that for ourselves, so when it comes to others...there is a limited amount of energy there sometimes. I am the first to admit this happens to me all the time:

I am worn out, I am tired, I have my own ish going on, and then someone calls along and needs me. I listen, murmur a few 'uh huhs' and then because you really feel like you need to get back to your life, you drop the "hard loving truth on them"

Whether or not you intend to you've hit them in the gut when they are already gasping for air emotionally.

I am at fault. I will be the first to raise my hand and say "yup, I've done that to a friend/boyfriend/family member/coworker/etc".  Sometimes you just can't handle someone else's ish right then. It is too much. It is too depressing. You just can't. 

You have someone who is admitting to feeling sad, defeated, scared, depressed, anxious, insecure, you pick the emotion here, and there, in the throngs of their telling you how they are feeling once of these less-than-stellar emotions, you decide now is the time for the "learning lesson". Or to finally let go of those words you have been fighting back, that are your real, true, honest opinion about their situation. And sometimes that seems faster than offering words of compassion, care and support.  

Granted, relationships are all about the honest opinions. On both sides. That is what we use to build love, trust, and respect off of. But there is a time and a place for them. 

I am not saying don'teverspeaknegativewordsoryourtrueopinionstosomeoneyouloveoryouarehorribleandgettingitallveryveryverywrong. But I think there is a time. And a place. And a way to deliver the message, possibly after they have stopped crying or feeling like they can't breath. 

I take those moments hard. Really hard.

When I am down. Crying. Sucking metaphorical muck off the floor, and feeling some crappy emotion, I feel a million times worse when someone whom I love and trust, tells me that "yup, that emotion. It IS  your worst nightmare. It really is that bad and oh, guess what, I've been thinking this for awhile and I just want to say how I REALLY feel."

It sucks. 

It makes you feel like maybe it is better to just stay down on the emotional floor, sucking your metaphorical emotional muck, and hope that the emotion you are feeling kills you. 

There is always the reminding yourself that this is coming from someone who loves you. Yes, that person, they love you and chance are, they are saying these things not with the intent to be hurtful, but because they have run out of, or don't know what to say to make that big ocean of emotion feel any better. Maybe they are having  a bad day too. So instead of the pep talk, or the "yea, this really sucks, and you are totally right to feel this way" even though they could say SO much more they keep their mouths shut; you get a "Here is how you are feeling AND a good ole' dose of shitty" on top of it. But they do love you. Which is such a hard pill to swallow, but you've that is the key to this all. 

And I know this. 

Because I have. been. there. done. that.

I have said some really not uplifting things to people when they are not at their best. I have regretted it. Even when it felt REALLY good to say something, I knew I hurt the other person. I knew I missed the opportunity to build them up. To make them realize that the dark spot they are in, it will pass. They will come out on the other side ok. That they are bigger, stronger and more loved than they can possibly imagine at that moment.

It is what we do....we hurt, we grow, we come back from it, and then we thrive. 

It is part of life. 

But I've been there. I've hurt someone, in the very way that people have hurt me. So I get it. I want to put this in my mind now. I want to be better. I want to try to not inflict the same hurt someone inflicted on me. Because while I love them, and I know they love me, kicking someone when they are down, no matter how hard it is to bite your tongue or how weary you are, isn't how we would want to be treated ourselves, so why do it to others?

I want to take what I am feeling right now. This hurt. I want to learn from this. That empowerment. Support. And that IwilllistentoyoucrynomatterhowmuchIthinkIamrightandknowhowyoucanfixit, is how I face those conversations with people who I know are lying on the proverbial emotional floor, sucking their own version of emotion muck. 

That golden rule we all heard growing up really is true. Treat others the way you would want to be treated.
Amen.

Theodore

I wrote this in the morning this past Wednesday. An overwhelming sense to remember this and to write this happened, and for a reason I will never know.
 
Later on this same Wednesday, my parents called to tell me that Theo had to be put down due to a tumor that had ruptured. Maybe I knew. Call it instinct, or what you will. But I know deep down I was unknowingly given time to write my goodbye in a way to my dog.
 
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This is the story of how I found my poodle.

Theodore Rossignol. Theo. Boo-Bear. Theo Bear. Moop. Best Dog. The Poodle.

I am sure some of you have caught on to my rather unhealthy love of poodles. I have always grown up with a dog around. Starting with my parents old English Sheepdog, Mandie. Beau was our first poodle. A black standard that was a renegade and defiant guy. Beau's passing was really hard, and I pushed pretty hard to get another poodle.

I don't know how it all came to be. I believe my mom was just keeping her eyes out for poodles in the paper, but soon enough we had scheduled to have a breeder come over with two of her remaining puppies in the most recent litter from her mom-poodle, Aurora. I remember being super excited to meet the little guys, but my mom reminded me that it wasn't for sure we would buy one, or that we would even like one of the two. (yea...right.)

It was an afternoon, the door bell rang, and in bounded a furtacular poofy white poodle. In tow were two teeny tiny little poodles. In turn we were introduced to "Meanabugger" & "White-y". We sat on the hardwood floor in our kitchen, trying to pet each one as they scampered about exploring and sliding all over the hardwood floor. Aurora just kind of sat and watched, posing like the regal dog that she was.

Meanabugger was apparently the trouble maker, the one who picked on the other puppies and kind of threw his (metaphorical & physical) weight around. White-y was rambunctious. He sniffed my hand tentatively, and then gave it a tiny little poodle lick. Watching him as he trucked off into our "green room" (It had teal carpet and teal couches, so it really was the green room) to try to pee on our carpet, I knew it was love, and I knew he was mine.

Again, my memory on the logistics is fuzzy, but the poodles got packed up to leave, we said we would call the breeder later and then we watched the walk out the their car. Deep down, I was already scared I would never see White-y again. I don't remember if my dad had come home and met the poodles, or if we told him about them later. Regardless, I remember we talked about it that night, and the next I knew. We had bought White-y had to wait a few weeks before he could be hand delivered to the house.

When he showed up, he was as cute as I had remembered. All white, with little patches of cream behind his ears and a slightly darker cream stripe starting to show down his back. He had the blackest little nose, and dark dark chocolate brown eyes. He was tiny. He could rest on my arm and not span from my hand to my elbow. He would sleep curled up in your arms, and he loved to be flipped on his back in your lap to get his tummy rubbed (later to be coined "floppy dog").

Theo is the best. A lover of pancakes. His ability to stealth attack food in the kitchen by retracting his toenails. Needing to be pet just about every waking moment of his day. His lazy saunter to go outside. His baths with dad. His morning routine with mom. The plethora of biscuits we give him. His love of the squirrel treats I bring from DC. His glee for opening his Christmas stocking. His desire to protect "the ranch" from every deer, squirrel, fox and quail that roams our yard. His impassioned quest to kill the garbage and fedex truck. His long legged graceful takeover of the chairs and couches. His regal personality, and celebrity like status at the dog wash. His funny sleep positions. His lazy ways of resting his head on the bottoms of chairs or tables. His perfect "sit" posture. And the million other Theo-things that make him the best dog.

He was so little. Now he is so big. He has been a constant source of love and an addition to our family that is irreplaceable.

I love you Theo!

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It's been a hard few days. I've lost pets before. Dogs, numerous fish, and it is always hard to find yourself with them at the end of the day. Dogs are so dependent on you, and the bonds of unspoken love weave their way through your heart. My heart broke learning that I would never see my Theodore again. I am heartsick and sad and a million other emotions that I know will fade with time.
I know I will never forget what a special dog Theo was, and how much I truly loved him.
 
Luckily, after a childhood full of watching "All Dogs go to Heaven", I am fully convinced that my "best dog" is eating pancakes galore in pup heaven.
 
Theo, your humans will always miss you and will always love you. Thank you for your unconditional love and plethora of memories. We love you Theo dog!
 

One of his first baths. He always sat so goofy when I would hold him. He also had the longest legs that you could see even when he was a tiny puppy!

 

He ran with gusto. I am pretty sure this was when we were cutting a Christmas Tree in Sun Valley. Someone had clearly told him they had a treat for him.

 

Sometimes we let his hair grow out a bit....

 

The pinkest little ears. Fuzzy fur. Soft as could be. With the cutest little black nose.

 

So little he could almost crawl inside his food bowl.

 

Wind whipping through his fur as he rode in the front of the boat in CDA, back in summers past.

 

(apologies for the photos of photos and bad quality!)

If I Had It My Way...

- I would wake up tomorrow and breath in fresh mountain air and find myself in Idaho.

- Coffee would be served in excess and free of charge at my office.

- It would be 9:30am and I would have no where to be, nothing to do, and no one to see.

- There would be a plate of the cheesy eggs we got to each every morning in Whistler when we went on our final ski vacation for the year.

- Poodles would be as plentiful as rats in DC. Running the streets and for the taking if you chose to take one (or twenty) home with you.

- Hogwarts really did exist and I was working on my enrollment paperwork.

- My wedding planning-paper store-dance studio would be open and I would be living the best day of my life every single day.

- I could recreate the infamous Kate Spade wall in my new apartment.

- Summer in DC would just not happen and I would have to think about how miserable the next 4 months are here.

- I would have a trip planned to Italy to drink wine, eat cheese, and enjoy the beautiful life.

- I would know what I am supposed to do, where I am supposed to be, and what the meaning of happiness is.

Don't Believe Everything You Hear

Being told you are bad at something. Doubting yourself. Believing them, despite knowing that their intentions had nothing to do with making you better, but rather tearing you down.

Then you hear that you aren't bad at that thing. You actually are pretty good.

The it dawns on you. That person, the person who said you weren't really good at something, was really just jealous of everything you had going for you.

Too bad I let it get to me, and had a chip in my ego for a few years over something that was false. Moving on.

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I wrote that above awhile ago now. The realization that no matter what, there are just going to be people that aren't there to build you up. Maybe it is jealousy, maybe it is malicious, maybe it is their own securities, but whatever it is, their words can dig deep. I had some thoughts so deeply ingrained in my head, that it never even occurred to me to get a second opinion.

Someone told me that I was bad at writing. While I will be the first to admit that I could be better....much much better, that comment made me lose so much confidence in my ability to do ANY writing. I started shying away from writing here, writing emails at work, keeping a journal, doing anything where I felt someone could point out the fact that I was stupid and was a bad writer. Just like anyone else, I have a lot of room for improvement. On this blog, I could stand to edit, revise and re-read before I publish. However, I never started this to be an amazing writer. I started this to track my own life (and to say "Hi Mom, Hi Dad! I promise I am eating more than cereal for dinner!") and to do it because I enjoy it. It is sad I let someone take that away from me.

At work, I can always use a second set of eyes, but the comment dug so deep...I forgot that needing improvement was a far cry from being "bad".

One day fairly recently, someone told me that something I had written was good. Then it was followed up with another written item that got me some pretty important conversations.

The moment after someone told me that I really wasn't a failure at writing, I almost started crying. It was a mix of relief and sadness.

So while I know that I am not a world class writer, and there is a hell of a lot of room for improvement, I also write this knowing that I am bigger than what that person said to me in attempt to make me feel bad about myself.

For day two of the blog everyday this month, I couldn't easily write about something I was good at, or knew a lot about. Instead, this came to mind and seemed fitting for the subject.

Blog Every...Errr Almost Every Day Challenge

It seems to be a trend that people are trying this whole "blog every day for a month" deal. Or going the complete other direction and doing a whole month without the connections via blogging, facebook, instagram, etc.. Jenni over at Story of My Life is doing a month long challenge to blog every. single. day. this. month. Yikes! The only thing that made me possibly thing I could also follow her lead? She provided prompts. So possibly I can stick to it if I don't have to think of a topic for everyday (because let's be real...that is so  much pressure!). So here we go May. A month of blogging. Can I do it?

Jenni's first challenge. Your life story in 250 words or less. This is normally something I would agonize over! Notice how I have never created an "about me" section on the blog? Partially it is because I am so paralyzed by the idea of trying to sum myself up! So big deep breaths...here we go.

I am a West Coast Gal who has landed in an accidental DC life. A lover of poodles, baking, stripes, creative outlets, royal family news, and skiing. I frequently feel out of place and am constantly contemplating if life is supposed to "be like this". (Which I have slowly started to answer with: "Who the heck knows").

Having grown up in the remote state of Idaho (ok not that remote!) I have a deep appreciation for skiing, nature in my backyard, and the luxury of a nice slow pace of life. I have a wonderful family and love being a daughter, sister and aunt.

I spent my college years in Seattle, making friends that I will carry with me my whole life (oh...and picking up my degree). After school I followed a guy to DC, where we both grew up, defined ourselves, and found that we were not exactly meant to spend the rest of our lives together. Having life take a twist I didn't expect, I stayed in DC. Have attempted to carve out a life for myself here and have ultimately found love, bigkid life, and a whole lot of stories to tell. Deep down I know my heart is always going to be on the West Coast and hope that the next chapters of my life happen to take place on the right side of the country.

What I Would Tell Them

I was checking out a recommended blog and found this posted. I am head over heels in love with it. Granted I don't have children, but I know that when I do I will feel like this exactly. I also have to give a shutout to my mom/dad for raising me and helping me write a good story.

This isn't written by Emily from the blog mentioned above, but the link she has posted for the write of this is broken...I wish I could give due credit as I think this is wonderful.

WHAT I WOULD TELL THEM:
(If I knew what to say.)
You are a miracle.
And I have to love you this fiercely: So that you can feel it even after you leave for school, or even while you are asleep, or even after your childhood becomes a memory.
You’ll forget all this when you grow up.
But it’s okay.
Being a mother means having your heart broken.
And it means loving and losing and falling apart and coming back together.
And it’s the best there is.
And also, sometimes, the worst.
Sometimes you won’t have anyone to talk to.
Sometimes you’ll wonder if you’ve forgotten who you are.
But you must remember this: What you’re doing matters.
And you have to be brave with your life so that others can be brave with theirs.
And nurturing the good in this world is nothing short of a privilege.
That’s why I have to love you this way.
So I can give what I have to you.
So that you can carry it in your body and pass it on.
I have watched you sleep.
I’ve kissed you a million times.
And I know something that you don’t, yet:
You are writing the story of your only life every single minute of every day.
And my greatest hope for you, sweet child, is that I can teach you how to write a good one.

The parts highlighted really pull at my heart. I can't tell you the times I have woken up (and gone to bed) and wonder if I have any idea who I am, or if I have forgotten. The more and more I have these thoughts the more and more I have pushed myself to define what makes me...me. Which also requires me to be brave. It is hard to go out into the world and grow up. If I panic about being on the other side of the country, away from my family, my nephew, my friends, I am sure everyone else feels the effects of that. Which benefits no one involved. "You must remember this: what you are doing matters"are such beautiful words. And while I instantly jumped to relating these to my work, as I sit here pondering these beautiful words I see more now that what I am doing isn't just work, but it is who am I am, day in and day out. How I treat others. How I behave in my relationships. How I represent my family. How I love. How I deal with my emotions. What I do with myself each and every minute. But it all matters. It all is inextricably linked to others, and that is a powerful thing to remember.

I am sure I have no idea the overwhelming sense of love that comes with having a child. I am overwhelmed with the love I have for my nephew, and he isn't even my kid! But I am sure I would tell my kids that no matter what anyone says or does or makes them feel they are always loved and were made to be perfect in their own right. I'd also tell them about how tiny they were, since that seems to boggle my mind. Tiny feet and tiny hands that grow up and do amazing things. What would/do you tell your kids?