Expectations Are Gateways To Disappointment

Thank you, Amanda, for the title...it's extremely functional and appropriate!
I've been struggling with my 'mad' lately and have realized that it is a function of my expectations...I expect that others will feel the same as I do about personal accountability and responsibility...That they will see the value in putting their experiences into a thankful place...That they will do their best to move ahead in a thoughtful and positive way...That they will show appreciation, or at least acknowledge, the efforts that others make on their behalf, etc. I spoke to Amanda about my interactions with co-workers, administrators, students, peers and family members, and I asked her what it is that I do that makes me feel so frustrated. Amanda pointed out that I am expecting things that may not be possible, as yet, and I felt a sort of "Eureka" moment...I am expecting people to act, or react, in a way that I want them to and not necessarily what they are able, ready or willing to do. I have expended much time and energy on supporting the efforts of others and have been hoping for the best possible outcome for them and have gotten mad when they don't act as I expect them to. I don't have a solution for my "problem" yet, but I do have a new appreciation for the dilemma. I need to know that my voice is heard and I have influence in the world...but others have the right to come to their understanding in their own way. I don't have to like it, but I need to respect it. This is, after all, one of the things I tell my students.

My Stand

God has guided my steps throughout this life. He asks me to forgive those who have done wrong and I do. He has also given me the responsibility to be the support for others but not to interfere with the lessons they need to learn or the burdens they bear because of choices they made. Others have treated me as if I think I am above everyone else and that I think my family is perfect. I can handle the criticism because I know that the truth is deeper than that and I don't feel guilty about my stand on things. So, here's my stand: When someone has been given many gifts of help and opportunities to succeed and they begin to expect that others will always be available to bail them out, that someone needs "tough love." Tough love doesn't mean that family members don't like them, don't love them, don't want to have anything to do with them. It means that they need to learn to make it on their own in order to have confidence in their ability to succeed. When we are always there to buffer the challenge, that cheats the person out of an opportunity to learn and grow. I also know that, in order for true growth and healing to occur, a person needs to deal honestly with the people affected by their actions. This doesn't mean that one needs to "pay back" all that is taken, though it wouldn't hurt, it means being truthful about what has been done and acknowledging the affect it has had. A good exercise would be to think about the people who have given time, money and possessions in order for one to overcome a problem or succeed in a task...and then think about the time, money and possessions that were taken without their knowledge and consent. Has either been acknowledged? Recovery and foreward motion is definitely going to be hard and I give credit for every day that James stays sober and works toward his goals...I don't feel obligated, though, to make his journey easier, and I won't be made to feel guilty because of this.
God has been very gracious to me and I try to be humble. I am thankful for every day that I am able to talk with my children because, for a moment in time, I didn't think I would ever be able to do that again- a consequence that could have occurred because of my choices. My family is not perfect...no one has the right to accuse us of presenting this facade. We have worked to become spiritual and helpful and to return the good that has been done for us, but we also know that enabling old patterns of behavior is destructive. I try to be supportive to loved ones but I know that my viewpoints can alienate them. I think if everyone looks to God, they will come to know what they need to do. In other words, Sarah, stop trying to make James' journey an easy one. It's not your job. And stop accusing others of not understanding your pain and suffering...that's just not fair at all. And James-you are 20 years old now...the lessons you need to learn will be very meaningful if you don't expect others to give you stuff. Love is never ending for families...it doesn't mean, though, that you have to like what they do.

Thanksgiving memories

I'm a little foggy about all of the details, but some facts are clear as day....Gayle asked me to go to the store and pick up a turkey on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and I think she borrowed the money from me. Somehow, I had been the only one home that evening and I had assumed that she would drive and I would make the run into the store since I was 16 and driving with a permit. Her clarification took me completely by surprise and caused instant fear in my gut: she wanted me to take her new Buick LeSabre to the store up on Murphy Road, in the rain, and buy food for Thanksgiving...by myself. I had NEVER pictured myself driving her car...ever, and I told her I was nervous about it. She didn't hesitate for one minute...just told me to do it (she said I'd be fine) and I did. The trip to the store went fairly well, without major mistakes, and I started to breathe a little easier after parking and going in to shop. It was late in the evening and raining like hell when I left the store and I had WAY too much to think about while going solo for the first time. The windows fogged up, the windshield wiper switch was unfamiliar, the car was new...ack, was I nervous and scared! Leaving the store, I was required to turn left across 2 lanes of traffic while watching the 2 lanes going the opposite direction. I didn't calculate my turn very well and skidded into the lane and almost got hit. The other driver honked at me like I was some kind of moron and I just shook...I couldn't help thinking about whether or not any of my classmates had ever had to do things like this for their families. Not likely. When I got home, I didn't mention the near-miss...just let her say, "See, I knew you'd be alright." I put the turkey in her bathtub to thaw and that's all I remember about that. I'm sure we had Thanksgiving dinner...late, as usual, and there probably was a fight, as usual, but I didn't know that it would be the last one spent at 1935 Adams or that Gayle would be dead in less than 3 months. I also didn't know that she had confidence in me until it was too late. I like to think that, in her way, she let me know that all of the teasing I'd been subject to was wrong and she was sorry for letting it happen. If she had been able to pull through all of her alcohol related complications, I know that our relationship would have been different and better.

Heart trips

A few years ago, a friend and I took a road trip to Oklahoma City. It had been my grandmother's wish that I donate some of my grandfather's military memorabilia to a museum, so we packed up his dress uniform and some of his insignia and took off. We went to the 44th Infantry museum and the folks there were short-tempered and unhelpful so we ended up taking the items to the Edmond Historical Society. It was hard to part with my PaPa's things but I knew that it would be selfish not to share these pieces of history with others. During the trip, I wanted to go to the cemeteries where family members are buried. Linda and I went all over OKC, Mountain Park and Snyder to research and, by far, the gravesite that emptied my soul of tears and hurt was my grandfather's. Icouldn't stop sobbing for him and Linda let me be alone with him and my Granny and Aunt Koma for quite awhile. I didn't realize how much I missed him.
Overall, it was a "heart pilgrimage" and I was able to visit other historical cemeteries and the site of the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial...and the tears came and went.

A little "funny"

Here's a little funny...gotta love the humor of old married folk:
I'm sitting on the couch...Steve's on the other end. I bend down to undo the velcro straps of my sandals (picture the noise, now) and he says, "Are you farting?" I laughed for 10 whole minutes! He explains that he saw me lean over and he thought I was intending to rip one right then and there...wonder where he got THAT idea? I'd never do that! (I guess when you're practically deaf from air powered tools, velcro can sound like a horrendous fart.) I said, "That's IT, I done pee'd my pants! (credit for that one=Aunt Di)

Oh...No...You...Didn't! -Why it's dangerous to take certain Texans to Safeway

Okay...so here's the scene: A certain Texan says to meet him at the store because he wants to take the B-dog for a ride (and give me some of his hard earned cash for groceries...his, not the dog's). I circle the parking lot a few times waiting to see if he'll arrive and having some self-doubt...did he say he was going to Fry's? I spot him at the entrance side of the parking lot and put my blinker on to pull in and park behind him. Now, here's where it gets REALLY good...picture a 17 or 18 year old kid, zit-faced, new on the job, picking up carts in the parking lot. He has the misfortune of attempting to pick up the carts between "the man" and my car. The Texan gets to yelling angrily, "Hey lady! Watch where you're driving! Can't you see he's trying to pick up the carts! Crazy driver!" and the poor kid gets a priceless look on his face...It says, "Oh my gosh...road rage! He's about to go off on that poor lady!" I think, if he'd had a full bowel, he would've shat himself. I give the kid a "Don't worry, he does this ALL the time!" look but he beats it outta there as fast as he can. I yell at the Texan to be nice...it only eggs him on, you know. The man says, "I wonder what the kid'll say when he sees us in the store together?" I could've predicted the poor guy's response...as soon as he saw us approach the check-out stand, he disappeared. Believe me, I looked for him because I wanted to tell him he had fallen victim to a particularly ornery Texan. Lord, I love my Texan!

I DON'T WANNA BE NUMBER 5!

That's the phrase repeated for over an hour by one of my students. We were randomly choosing names for computer time and he was number 5...seems like a trivial thing to get upset about, but when you 'teach' in a class for young people with emotional disabilities, it becomes the norm. Here's what I wonder...did my dysfunctional childhood make me want to help these little people or does being around them make me feel more normal? I've been told I have more than my share of patience and I like to think that I work with them for very noble reasons, but lately I've been questioning the whole truth of it. Maybe, I'm a little like those who like to focus on the problems of others rather than face their own. In that case, I'm a big hypocrite. Mea culpa!
Erring on the noble side-who else would understand the f'--d up world they live in? I certainly do. It's only slightly different for them, but the themes are the same: parent picked up for dui, parent incarcerated but other parent won't step in, fosters whose natural 'parents' are more wrapped up in their substances than in anything else, 'parents' who knock their kids around to show them whose boss, parents who blame everyone else for the behavior of their child. The list could be MUCH longer, believe me. It's often hard, though, to show them that there is hope in the world. On some days, all we can do is talk or cry or fight or yell and nothing else gets done. Or, in the case of number 5, every demand is met with a fit of loud wailing...think British ambulance or, as my assistant says, a coyote howling at the moon. This sh** can be seriously funny sometimes, so maybe my next blog will be anecdotal and humorous instead of dark and depressing. Stay tuned for "STOP LOOKING AT ME!!"