living in fear = not save

thanks to discussions with my friend lizzie, I have had some new realizations.

i had known of my dad’s anger and displeasure toward me and my siblings actions. i wanted to avoid those at any cost. i came to know that as flying under the radar. if i could fly under the radar, i could avoid the wrath of dad. this was a continuous and exhausting struggle. those times i would do something wrong, no matter how small, I’d pop up on the radar and be in fear of what ever retribution would come my way. It was never a lesson except through retribution.

how is this fear any different than the fear the wild rabbit feels, afraid of the next time they are to be chased by a wolf or coyote, with in inches of their life? in both instances, there is this living in fear of something that may or may not happen. with this constant fear, the adrenal gland constantly works over time. that’s hard on the body.

all of this came into focus from a simple and obvious statement; living in fear = not safe. it is so obvious, i had never realized it before.

the above and more comes cascading out of that statement. i had this vision of a somewhat idyllic childhood. Sure, i had my struggles, among them my dysfunctional family and the gifts that came from that, but leaving childhood i felt somewhat well adjusted. Also, so does the rabbit but still, when they hear a branch break at 50 feet, their hair trigger response tells them to run.

on this statement alone, living in fear = not safe, causes the crystalline structure of my supposed idyllic childhood to come crashing down. i now sit in the broken shards, in full recognition of my early childhood along with some of the outcomes because of it. i, like the rabbit developed to hair trigger response to run. why run? because i like the bunny, don’t feel save.

sitting in the shards, an answer to a long standing question comes into focus, “how with this supposed idyllic childhood, do i face such emotional and depressive struggles?” the answer comes clear; there was no idyllic childhood. i now have a better understanding of the reasons for the lack of foundation that i hoped would serve as a basis of handling life’s struggles.

will i ever feel safe again? likely not. the early childhood’s experience are pretty difficult to overcome. even if i could, there still exists this safety robbing fear is part of just about any higher life form. even with that, thanks to you and my friends around me, i can learn ways to handle it and hopefully make for a better life. is failure inevitable? sometimes. i will close with a self authored meme, “failure doesn’t make me less of a human…it only makes me human.”

remember, if your struggles ever make you feel less than human…

your struggles don’t make you any less of a human, they only make you human.

picking the optimum watermelon 🍉

(i’ve been rather constipated with writing lately. this is an attempt with a little laxative to get things moving again. without further ado…)

i’ve been buying watermelon for years. it’s been hit or miss for about the same length of time. sure, they’ve all been green on the outside and red on the inside. every watermelon i picked had the proper texture but most had a bland taste.

i knew that there had to we a better way. i consulted with one of the oracles of the internet, youtube, and as usual, i discovered a wealth of information. here are my 4 1/2 guidelines, used in order, to get the best watermelon possible.

1. yellow patch- i hope it comes as no surprise that watermelons grow on the ground. the patch is were the watermelon touches the ground. when watermelons are left to ripen on the vine, the patch turns yellow. when the watermelon has a white patch, it didn’t quite finish the ripening process. if there is no well defined patch, again, the watermelon didn’t finish ripening. when not left on the vine to ripen, sugar does not get a chance to set in to the fruit.
2. dark green- pick a dark green watermelon. look for forest green or even darker. some times a comparison may not be enough. the darkest green watermelon in the patch still may be not dark enough. the dark green color, again, helps to insure the sugar has set into the fruit.
3. round, not long- did you know that there are male and female watermelons? just like in real life, with a few exception like >>me!<<, the female is sweeter than the male. females or round and males are more elongated. go with the round females to gets better sugar content.
4. vein stripe-age- there are alternating colored veins on the watermelon. get veins that are uniform in shape and texture. sorry, i don’t have a reason for that other than that’s what youtube told me.
4 1/2. thumping-as watermelons ripen, they accumulate more water. the more water and mass in the riper watermelon will have a deeper sound. here’s why i don’t consider this one very viable. thump a small watermelon and will have a higher tone since it doesn’t have as much mass. thump a big watermelon and will have a lower tone since it has more mass. sure, a riper watermelon will have a deeper sound. That means a more ripe smaller watermelon may sound just deep as a less ripe bigger watermelon. for that reason, thumping is a comparative thing. compare two melons about the same size for tone and ripeness, otherwise your result may be inconsistent.

that’s it. follow these four and a half simple guidelines and you’ll end up with a sweeter and more tasty watermelon. I find about one in twenty watermelon fit the above criterion. since starting using these guidelines, i haven’t brought home a bland tasteless watermelon, yet.

yoda-wise beyond his years

do…or do not

yoda utters these words to luke skywalker when he was attempting to raise his x-wing fighter out of the swamp. (there is the final part of the line i cut out, “there is no try.” for the purpose of this post, it is not necessary.) yoda spoke to luke about taking action or staying on the sidelines. the in between leads too much struggle and loss of energy. maybe yoda was wise beyond his 900 years.

edmonds sunset

happy-sad-confused

I got another call from one of my nowmoms, ava, yesterday. I couldn’t take it as I was in a movie with Mary. she left a message which i listened to later. the message was full of things that i have come to expect from her: love, comfort, acceptance and care.

another sign of her love and care is she is making these calls at my request. i am falling into a isolative state. when that happens, i need regular reminders that there are people outside my shell that still care. her calls have been like clockwork, creating an uplift for me.

that makes me happy.

that has created the inevitable reminders of what i got from my biomom. needless to say, i came up a little short on love, comfort, acceptance and care.

those shortages continue to haunt me and hurt me to this day. i am filled with self-doubt and have a dearth of self love, self acceptance and self compassion.

that makes me sad.

how can someone i’ve known days over a year has offered me more love, comfort, acceptance and care than i felt from my biomom in over forty years?

that leaves me confused.

refinding holes in my heart

i wrote this in response to silent pen’s postdance with a limp.

i say that losing anything from a goldfish to a loved one, puts a new hole in your heart proportional to the size of the loss. too often, people try to fill the hole with whatever they find. additionally, it’s not until the hole gets filled with good stuff can the real healing begin.

no matter what attempts are made that hole cannot be perfectly closed. that’s why we might experience a twinge of loss long after the hole has seemingly been filled.

the world would be a better place if we would only fill your hole with good stuff.

a turn

this a quick rundown on last week’s post. the basics are people who have the mthfr, like me, don’t process enough folic acid. folic acid partly breaks down into methylfolate which is a building block for many neurotransmitters. these neurotransmitters help the cells in the brain communicate. there is pretty good scientific evidence that a shortage of neurotransmitters partly contributes to depression. click here to see by last post and explore this more in depth.

a mthfr

a few years back, i had a genetic test done. one thing it showed i had the mthfr mutation. that’s not completely surprising since about one in three people have that mutation. if you add some appropriate vowels and consonants in appropriate places, you’ll see what i think of this mutation.

the moms i never had

 i write this with a tear in my eye, a tear of happiness, mind you. my happiness is for the two moms currently in my life, moms that i never had.

i have to back up and give you some background on my biomom. she wanted us kids to learn on our own. that was even obvious at the ripe old age of four. i had just gone through a traumatic event with my sister (click here for the…rest of the story). we where told to stop crying.

it may blow your mind, but i can only remember one meaningful conversation with the woman. we were sitting around the table the week i graduated from college. we were talking about something that i struggled with in high school. i asked her why she didn’t say anything. she replied, “i wanted you to learn on your own.

learning to live on your own in healthy doses leads to independence. unfortunately, when taken to the extreme, isolation follows. that leads to making it hard to ask for help. since i never learned how to ask for help, stuffing in many aspects of life follows, which contributes depression.

that makes for a slippery slope. my slope is genetically greased with chicken fat. that makes the slide even more slippery.

i’m spent many years wandering in the desert since biomom died. then again, i spent most of my life absent of a nurturing mother figure.

i can say i’ve reached the promised land as i now have two nurture-moms. they each are different, but they each feed me. they each treat me how i envision a mom treating me. they support me through my life journey. that’s invaluable. i just have to learn how to unlearn years of isolation so i can be a better son to them.

ava is my first mom i’ll mention. (click here to see her blog. it’s a little sparse right now as she had to start anew.) she calls herself my step-mom but that sells herself short. she has told me she see me as one of my sons.

we met through our blogs. who ever said nothing good ever came out of blogs is dead wrong. i sent her an invite to my 25th anniversary party but she couldn’t get a ticket from texas to seattle on short notice. she was there is spiri,t though.

we have since graduated to phone conversation. each one has been meaningful and packed with advice, but not overbearing advice. every call she says that’s she’s been praying for me or that she will. the little texas drawl makes it seem so sincere.

she’s the reason i was crying at the start of this. we were finishing up a call and she helped me work through a couple of things, unlike biomom ever did. that brought great joy to me being supported the way it was suppose to happen. additional there wasn’t the mention of food or weather, staples of my the meaningless conversations with biomom.

at that point, a second name popped to mind. I call her friend but that sells judy short.

one thing i like about her is the exchange of ideas. yep, in a parent/child relationship i believe in a two way flow of ideas. she teaches me. i teach her.