~Betty~

Shhhh…….can you hear that? It’s the sound of relief or tears from  many, many Mommies sending their kiddos back to school today.

I happen to fall into the relief category. That’s right, I’m one of those Moms. It has nothing to do with my daughters and everything to do with me. The older I get, the more I need the predictable schedule of their school hours. I need that space of time between 7:45 a.m and 3:00 p.m. that is all about focus and getting things accomplished.

Being a summer slacker looses it’s luster after awhile and I’ve been feeling the need for an actual schedule creeping around the edges this last month. Thats utterly boring to admit so I shall blame age, responsibility, life and obligations for losing my carefree spirit.  Damn adulthood anyway.

A week, or so ago (without schedule time tends to fold into and over itself), I was chatting with one of my daughters about Motherhood. She would like 4 children. A Boy first and then any combination of boy or girl after that until she fulfils the desired 2 boy-2 girl quota. As a Grandma to be, I’m all over those numbers. The more the merrier I say.

~Poppins~

Daughter:  I’m not sure what type of Mother I’ll be.

Me:  Well, you’ll either be a bit like I’ve been or because of the type of Mom I’ve been, you’ll run to the other side and be a Betty Poppins Mom. 

Daughter: What Is A Betty Poppins Mom??

Me: Oh you know, the sort of Mom I’ve never been. 1/2 Betty Crocker and 1/2 Mary Poppins. Cupcakes and a spoon full of sugar and all that.

Daughter: Ohhhhhh–well, ummm 

Me: Darlin, we both know I’ve never been one of those Moms and I’m Mom enough to admit it. Hopefully it isn’t a genetic thing so maybe your kids will have a chance.

Daughter: Maybe!

Me: You should know though, I totally plan on being the Anna Osbourne Grandma. And if you’re wondering what that is I’ll tell you. It’s 1/2 my Mother Anna and her amazing Grandma skills, plus 1/2 Sharon Osbourne and her rockin wacky ways. You’re kids are gonna love me as a Grandma so make sure and have lots and lots of them.

Ode to the Snickers Bar

If health is a “frame of mind and body”, then I should say my frame is the type one might find in the discount bin at the local Salvation Army. No. strike that…that’s giving my health stock too much value. I’m probably more like the frame that has split in several places and someone tossed it in the garbage bin because they were too embarrassed to donate it to the Salvation Army.

Yup, that’s me. Garbage bin extraordinaire.

Adopting a healthy plan of attack seemed like a reasonable if not sound solution to my current struggling mentality. Eat right, exercise daily and by general principle alone a person should FEEL overall better. That’s the rumor, that’s what a million and two articles suggest, talk shows, Oprah, even Doctors imply such drastic measures!

So I thought I’d give the healthy side of the coin a whirl~ I’m trying ~ But I’m flailing ~ But I’m still keeping an open mind………..

I believe a person either has a healthy inner mentality or they don’t. A bit like either someone is a drinker–or not. Smoker–or not, Gambler–or not. Nascar watcher–or hell no, not. I fall into the never thought about it, never cared about it, never bought a scale to watch weight, never looked at labels, “is 2800 calories for a milk shake bad?”, never afraid of McDonalds and always willing to eat a light dinner so I could take seconds at the dessert table, side of the railroad tracks.

Since I’ve never been on a diet for weight or health, in my entire life, eating with intention and attention is a COMPLETELY foreign concept. I’ve read everything I could get my hands on because that’s what a person does when they start at the kindergarten level. Right now, if good intention and reading about going healthy and wholesome counted for anything I’d be a fine tuned human being fully loaded with optimized joints and muscles like lean meat. All the pistons in my brain would be firing on perfectly timed belts and I’d probably float down the street during my daily walks/runs like a messiah parting the seas from my, oh so healthy, air current. Sadly, reading doesn’t count for a whole lot in this department……..

I’ve ran into some real (huge) problems with this endeavor. Adjustments and exceptions seem to crop up every single day and evidently my Will Power Corporation is at odds with my Ambitious LLC.  

Here are some general observations and exceptions

• Diet Coke should be allowed into the program because it has the word Diet in it. ‘Nuff said, I don’t want to hear it~
• Healthy eating is irrelevant in the face of monster buffets at family reunions~
• Dinner at Moms house is exempt from moderation because she is a fabulous cook~
• Whole wheat pasta takes like shit cardboard paste and by gag reflex alone is OFF the menu~
• Anything that makes me gag once is off the menu, no exceptions~
• A carrot stick is NOT a Snicker bar, no matter how I attempt to convince my mind it’s a decent snack~
• Going healthy makes an extremely unhealthy body feel even worse…current rumor implies that’s temporary, but I’m starting to think people just like watching misery from afar~
• Doing sit ups is the most BORING exercise known to man~
• Be cautious of anything that says ‘zero fat, zero sugar, zero carbs or zero anything’ ~
• Self denial inspires criminal thoughts. Things like, “Eat that Butterfinger in front of me and I will physically hurt you” and so on~

This shall stand as my official confession from the trenches of Health & Truth

• Exception number 58-telling the truth earns one cookie

I’m not sure what it’s like for other people. I can’t say what their dark place of mental residence is decorated with or smells like. I don’t know how it tastes or how much it weighs on their shoulders. I do know it’s a place other people go.

I’m not sure if I can, or should, explain my personal brand of Lavender Black. There isn’t a map to show how I surrender to such a place, or how I eventually find my way back. It simply, happens.

I can say that naming my dark is an act of conventional word defiance. It’s my personal perspective; the condition may be ordinary, but I can name it and decorate it any way I please. Lavender Black isn’t a desirable destination, but it is a place. My place. It’s quiet there and the deeper I wander in, the fact is, the less I participate in the world around me.

Typically, I can still write while meandering through such a space of individual seclusion. Some of my best writing has originated from time spent in my lavender realm, but sometimes, I move past the threshold of expression and the result is silence. It’s where I’ve been these last few weeks, beyond the green fields and purple flowers. In this version, I walked deep into the black parts of Lavender and disappeared for awhile.

Going to Lavender Black is easy enough, coming back proves difficult. There’s something sadly comfortable about suffocating in a zone meant only for single occupancy. It’s a self indulgent territory dripping with familiarity and knowing. If there’s one place that covets a thousand reasons for being dark and twisty, it’s the back room in my mind that collects life’s little black trinkets like a chemically imbalanced pack rat.

Surface maintenance. That’s how I handle day to day reality when I’ve gone off into my place of silence. When a body is in trouble, it has the ability to shut off functions to everything but the vitals. I’ve fined tuned that perspective when it comes to the dark side of my personality. Vitals=Family and that’s the scope of my selective interactions during Lavender Black spells.

Either people will understand this about me, or they won’t. It’s nothing personal. Never has been. I understand that it isn’t easy to accept or understand, not when people interact and depend on feedback/input from one another. My occasional shut downs go against the human nature rules of engagement and I realize I always run the risk of hurting the feelings of other people when I dissolve into myself. Regrettably, my only recourse is to try and pick up the pieces once I’ve came back.

I’m not sure it serves any purpose by writing about this, here, publicly, other then disclosure. But it is who I am. A part of me, one I find both interesting and challenging. Just as I observe the world around me, it’s important I spend time observing my interior workings, the beautiful, the black and the unexplainable…….