Some people’s children

As I try to make my way through each day of my existence, I am reminded, almost daily, at the gall of some people.  I’m sure you’ve seen it.  Grown adults behaving badly.  Committing acts they would put their own children in timeout for, but somehow, they’ve justified in their own minds that their bad behavior is ok, using their own excuses and wrong logic to proclaim their bad behavior as ok.  These are also the same people who, when witnessing other people complete the exact same acts, will immediately cry foul, asking for blood, regardless of that person’s reasoning.

It’s funny how reasoning and excuses are ok when they come from one side of this person’s mouth, but they are offended by the same display when the coin flips.

Sometimes the acts are minor.

How dare that person cut me off in traffic, but when, “I’m late for work, it’s ok.  I mean, really.  No one got hurt, so whats the harm.”

Two Black Friday shoppers going for the same item.  One grabs it out of the other’s hands.  The winner is justified, “They should have fought harder, been quicker.”  The loser is offended, “What terrible manners.  How rude.”

The place where it’s most saddening to me is with words.  Deep, cutting, hurtful words flung from one mouth into the life of another, sometimes with the only purpose of cutting down the receiver.  At first, one would witness a lot of these verbal assaults anonymously, online, where one can cowardly hide, hurt, and not have to face their attackee.

Then it moved to opening assaulting others, sometimes ones that they claim to be hold as friends or loved ones.  Mean posts online, rude comments or tweets.  The really sick ones are held under the guise of TBH.  What a horrible thing our young people have created with this trend.  Opening inviting comments from people only to be the receiver of mean, hurtful, ‘honest’ attacks.  We’ve taught a generation to think it’s ok to be cruel and spiteful, as long as you can justify it with ‘just being honest.’

Now the meanness seems to have infected our culture to the core, so much that people will openly abuse others, face-to-face, justifying and excusing themselves with every breath along the way.  Things being said directly to people you claim to love or care for, that you wouldn’t dare utter to others, but you believe you have the right to say because you are so in the right.  Just because you’re related or have known them forever, makes some people believe they can spew vile comments without ramifications.  “What?  They needed to hear that.”  “I’m just saying.”  “It’s not my problem if they can’t handle the truth.”

I’m just so sick of these self-justified bullies spraying all those in their paths.  What gives you the power to believe that your so-called ‘truth’ is 1) wanted or 2) anywhere close to the truth in someone’s life.  If I’ve learned anything in my years on this planet, it’s that there are at least two sides to every story and sometimes can be as many as four or five.  Plus, your unasked for and unnecessary additive is not only unjustified, but mean and hurtful and damaging.

So damaging.

Isn’t it enough?  Aren’t we all hurt and struggling enough?  Don’t we all say enough damaging things inside our own heads that we don’t need others to pile on the fight?

Can the tearing down of those around us please stop?  Can we all agree to that this wasted energy and, instead, put this energy back on ourselves, fixing our own houses or, better yet, using to benefit society as a whole?

I’m just saying….

It’s a wonder my hair isn’t gray

As I typed that title, I realized that I probably just jinxed myself.  I better not have.  I have been able to go all my 39 years without having to break out the dye on this do…and I don’t want to have to start just yet.

Yes, you read correctly, I typed 39 years.  In my long (too long for me) absence from my blog, I have managed to get a year older and have hit that magically year when I realize that I actually am going to hit that yet-to-be-unmentioned decade soon and had better get my backside into gear if there is anything I want to do before I turn the big 4-0.

I don’t have a particular problem with turning 40, (Of course, I say this having only been 39 for 8 days…) but I’m realizing that putting things off until later is a less and less desirable idea.  That I’m getting closer to the backside of this ride and I can’t keep saying, “I’ll do that someday.”  I’ve also started to realize that I’m getting pretty tired of doing things for other people, things I don’t really want to do, things I have not desire to do.  I’m beginning to understand why people always say, “Don’t mind Grandma.  She has no filter!”  She has no filter because she’s sick and tired of your crap, she doesn’t care less what you think of her anymore, and she’s not going to waste on of the few 1,000 minutes she has left caring what you think.  She doesn’t have to.  Plus, she’s probably a lot happier now than she ever was before.

Which brings me to where I’ve been.  I’ve been here, in my home, doing my kid and mom thing.  I’ve thought about writing, but then I’ve always either lost my motivation or I’ve over thought what I wanted to write about and eventually talked myself out of writing all together.

And that’s where I’ve failed.

I started this blog as a way to just be creative and expressive.  I’ve never had a particular focus on purpose.  I wanted to freedom to write about whatever tripped my fancy, whenever I felt the mood hit me.  And I need to get back to that.

Not writing becomes it’s own worst enemy because you over think, over analyze, worry and stress.  Then days turn to weeks and nothing seems important enough to blog about OR if I told you what I really wanted to tell you about issues, I might offend people, so I said nothing.

Enter Grandma.

I’ve decided to channel her.  I’m going to write what I want, when I want, and screw it if it makes people uncomfortable at Thanksgiving dinner.

In order to kick off this new beginning, I toyed with the idea of deleting this whole blog and starting a new one.  But then I remembered, when you get that ill-conceived tattoo at an early age, you can un-tattoo it.  It still exists.  What you can do is take the ink, add to it, and create the new future for yourself going forward.  Plus, I still like a lot of my old stuff.

So I’m keeping it all as is.

Same blog.  Same title.

I’m still Kerry.

I’m still overly organized.

My life is still chaos at times.

I’m just hitting a reboot.  I hope you’ll stick around with me to see what my 39th year brings.

 

Curve balls

As it has with anyone, life has thrown me some curse balls along the way.  What I’ve learned about myself and others and the curve balls themselves has been really interesting.

You probably know by now that I’m a plan making and a list creating fool.  Sometimes I make lists for my plans and vis versa.  It’s a sickness really.  What I also know is the best way to make God laugh is to make a plan.  God is a master curve ball pitcher.  Plan to do X and he throws a perfect curve right into your strike zone.  Are you going to stand there and go down looking?  Or are you going to swing a way, take control of the curve, and make it your own?

I gave up a long time ago being mad about God’s curve balls.  I know there is something bigger than me in this universe and I believe I my purpose in life is to figure out, well, what that purpose is.  I don’t know everything.  I don’t have all the answers, but each day I set out on my mission to learn and grown and be a positive force in this world.  Set aside money for one thing, then another thing breaks that takes the funds. Plan an outing for the day and the car won’t start when it’s time to leave.  If I was thrown this type of curve ball, God was just letting me know that my plan wasn’t really his plan and I need to change my line up.  I can deal.

Sometimes I’ve, knowingly or unknowingly, thrown myself my own curve balls.  I forgot to have all my cylinders turned on.  I didn’t pay attention to details.  I knew something was wrong, but I did it anyway, ignoring my gut feelings and morals, forging ahead, believing I knew better.  I swung at a pitch above my head.  I put myself behind in the pitch count.  The only way out is hunker down and protect the plate.  I have to acknowledge my mistakes, accept that I was wrong, eat my crow, then apologize, ask for forgiveness, fix my mistakes and move forward.  Personally challenging at bats build character and humility.

It’s the last type of curve balls that I’m struggling with the most.  Those are the ones that others throw at you.  You have a course of action all in place and someone comes in and makes meaningless changes just to show they have some power or control.  Someone spouts off rude, mean, hurtful comments about another individual, then when caught makes up more lies to cover their tracks or tells you, you should turn the other cheek and let it go.  (Sorry I just made you sing that song.)  How come those who frequently stomp all over the morals and values of humanity, self-centeredly focused on getting their way, are the first ones to throw scripture at others about being loving, kind, and forgiving, but never once consider being remorseful, apologetic, or even owning up to their actions?  Yes, yes, I know. This curve ball is just another one like the others, and I have to flow with it just the same.  But this one’s a stinger.  This one’s a dead ball to the backside.  It stings.  The memory of it is vivid.  It leaves a nasty mark.

It changes you.  It changes your outlook.  It changes your feelings.  It changes your future decisions.

But afterwards, you get up, take your base and play ball.

Guess who’s back…

Hello ya’ll!

As some of you may have noticed, I’ve been absent for about six weeks around these parts.  (What!  You didn’t notice!?!?!  In the word so Stephanie Tanner…How Rude!)

Well my absence wasn’t particularly planned, and I don’t really have a sellable excuse for it expect, I wasn’t feeling it.

I started this blog a few years ago, because, inside of me, lies this incessant need to write and express myself.  I needed an outlet for that and my personal journal was no longer cutting it.  I’m about to reveal something personal about myself that I don’t tell many people, but I have this dream to one day be a writer.  Because my degree has nothing to do with writing or English, I’ve always felt like a phony saying I wanted to write and be expressive.  So, I started this blog as a way to release those inner feelings.  I’ve purposely never given my blog a particular direction.  I didn’t want to pigeon-hole myself.  If I wanted to tell a funny story about my kids, then a self-deprecating tale about myself, followed by the raw emotions of my mom beating cancer, I didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t.  And because of that, my blog because a miss-mash of ramblings from my life.

Then about six weeks ago, the ramblings stopped.  Like I said, I can’t pin point one particular thing that was blocking me.  If I could have, I probably could have broken through sooner.  There were the usually end-of-the-year blahs, holiday build up and let down blahs, cold winter day blahs, work stress blahs, identity theft blahs, adults acting like juveniles blahs, family health stress blahs, realizing I’ve entered the sandwich generation blahs, etc.  Over this time, I’ve had a number of ideas or issues pop up that tempted me to run for the keyboard, but, before I could motivate myself to open the Mac, the feeling dissipated and the blahs won out.

Maybe if I had a definite direction for my blog, I might have blown the dust off sooner.  Who knows.

I know that one thing that kept me away was ‘the pressure.’  The pressure of phrasing what I was thinking in a witty or thoughtful enough way.  The pressure of writing a post that others would enjoy.  The pressure of racking up likes and views.  The pressure of not saying something the wrong way and offending others.  Slowly, bit-by-bit, I let this imagined pressure limit me from saying anything at all….and I stopped writing completely.

Well no more.

From now on, for the new year, I’m going back to my roots.  I’m just going to write.  Whatever I feel, whenever the mood catches me.

We all have different opinions, beliefs, feelings, and ideas.  I can love you, care for you, respect you, accept you, tolerate you and value your opinion, but still not agree with you.  And that’s all ok.

Some might like it, some might not, and that’s ok as well.  I’m no longer concerned with how many likes I get or how many views I generate.  I just need to write again.  For my own personal sanity, I need to let all these emotions, feelings, and words out.

The wrong side of karma

I keep seeing these repeated posts about people waiting for karma to come around and get back at someone with whom they are upset, who they feel they have been wronged by.  Full disclosure, I have had thoughts like this of my own and may or may not have made a similar post in the past.  When I saw such karma postings, I used to give a little giggle and would say to myself, “That’s right Betty (names have been changed to protect the innocent)!  They will get what’s coming to them!”

But I have recently seen, what I call, the wrong side of karma.  The side where the person who is wishing and waiting for karma to get their enemy is actually wrong, whether in actions and words, and is wishing a karma retribution that is ill-advised.

I have come to realize that these ‘wrong side of karma’ wishers are usually ‘my way or the highway’ types of people who then, when they don’t get their way, start calling on karma.  Well who’s to say that the fact they didn’t get their way and are now throwing a temper tantrum isn’t karma’s way of trying to smack them in the face for being so selfish, self-centered, or unwilling to compromise?