He was a lucky little thing...Jennifer found him, Mom and Dad cleaned him up and gave him a good home, Dad spoiled him rotten, and then Monie continued the caring and the spoiling for years after that. He may have had a rough time before he came into their lives, but he had a pampered life once he was there.
Take care, Lil-Bit...you were a sweetie.
Here is hoping the Supreme Court finds in favor of love and union, not fear and divisiveness. In a world fraught with anger, war, hatred, pain, confusion, and distrust, we need to encourage all the caring and support that human beings have to offer each other.
Just care about each other, people. Respect each other.
We need more of that.
Watching a PBS documentary about Grace Kelly...she was asked if she would continue acting after she married Prince Rainier, and she answered quietly, "That is up to the Prince." Cut to the Prince being asked the question, and he answered simply, "No." Then a bit later in the documentary, the [now married] couple were asked what the succession would be if she gave birth to twins and a girl was born first...the Prince answered that while the rule is firstborn without regards to gender, the girl would not be allowed to rule and would be expected to voluntarily cede her right to her brother.
It was jarring, and I was relieved that things had changed so much since then...then I thought about current events and some of the ways that we seem to be heading back to those times, and then recalled a surprising turn a dinner conversation took the other night. One man spoke very strongly about what was "ladylike" and "classy" and the things a lady "absolutely should not do" [for the record, the ones he mentioned specifically were "fart openly, even in the solitude of her own home; take out the garbage; hang shelving; and 'anything that is very clearly a man's job'"]. Thankfully, he didn't find the support he seemed to think he would amongst the group, but it was a stark reminder that these mindsets still exist, and that I am very lucky to be surrounded by people whom I respect and who respect and accept me for who I am as a whole, even if I do put up my own shelves.
[And for the record, if being "ladylike" and "classy" means not being able to take care of myself or my home, or take out my garbage, or fart and burp in my own home, then I'm absolutely okay with not having those descriptions applied to me. Though I doubt that comes as a surprise to anyone who knows me...]
Saw "Tainted Love" [80s cover band] with Susy tonight...we can't remember how long ago it was when we first saw them, but we know it's been a while. Many years on, they still know how to give you your money's worth...much fun was had by all. Even better, I got to catch up with a much-loved long-time friend.
[note to self: next time, remember your ear plugs. >.< ]
There have been painters cranking away on the inside of house since Wednesday, painting pretty much every wall and ceiling in the place. These guys have been working their asses off, nine hours a day, eight in the morning until five in the evening...they are awesomely thorough, very detailed, and very considerate. They've been filling holes and sanding where needed, and even put up with us having to make a paint color change after the first day [in a house with a lot of sunlight, bright white paint is *not* the solution you thought it might be >.< ].
[And can I just say that trying to pick a color of paint is more mind-melting than you would think? It's easy to say "we want a light tannish color"...but do you want "Wise Owl", "Baby Turtle", "Moroccan Sand", or "Malted Milk"? Even scarier is finding out you actually have an opinion about each of those colors...buh.]
So one more obstacle to moving in is being knocked down...a few big ones are left [new water heater and recirculator, getting the garage done], then it's fair game for moving in. Which means time to get serious about packing...eep.
Many years back, I was having a rough time of things. Nothing like what I would find myself going through in later years, but at the time, it was a crisis of confidence and identity that left me pretty empty and confused and alone. Interestingly, it wasn't the earlier dissolving of the seventeen-year relationship that was tearing me down, but rather a later, shorter term one that had [and continues to have] resounding and rebounding effects on me.
Eventually, I gave in and saw a therapist. I have a hard time with facts and realizations that don't come from within my own head/heart, so I'd avoided or ignored that avenue of assistance for a while. In this case, I'd already done a bit of it with a joint/group counselor, so taking it a step further and finding someone who was strictly "on my side" was a bit easier. And it ended up helping, to an extent...it let me get some things that were rattling around in my head out into the open, throw some light on them, and let them air out a bit after being kept in the dank, dark bits of my brain for so long.
A short while after that situation resolved itself [or at least was in the process of being resolved], I had a conversation with each therapist about what had happened and what I was planning going forward. Both of them, independently, encouraged me to find a support group for "people who'd been through similar situations". I demurred, deflected, downplayed...and they saw through it, but were both savvy enough to plant the seed and then back off. A short time after that, one of them followed up with me, and told me point blank: "Stacey, it may not have been physical, there may not have been bruises, and you may have felt that your eyes were open and you were aware of what was happening, but it was still *abuse*. You took an emotional beating, you were worn down, you were forced to defend who you were at the core of your being. You faced anger and defensiveness and belittling and projection of insecurities onto you; you were left doubting what you wanted, choices you'd made, and where you wanted your life to go. You were precariously close to letting yourself make decisions that would have affected you for the rest of your life because it was easier than continuing to swim against that tide, but you pushed through, dug in, and stood tall. Never forget that. With everything you'd been through before then, with everything that happened during, and everything that came after, you took control of your own life. You took responsibility. That is something that will serve you for as long as you need it, for as long as you live."
And a few weeks later, the other therapist said something very similar, and encouraged me again to look into support groups. I never did end up doing that; instead I worked with both of them to build a foundation for those newly-rediscovered and hard-fought lessons. Both were skilled in letting me get to the conclusions on my own; rather than pushing me where they thought I should go, they simply provided a conduit to let my thoughts flow in the right directions, which was the best way for me to internalize and actually trust in what I was figuring out.
Because of them, a lot of difficult introspection and truth-facing, and some very kind, patient, and loving friends and family, I gained tools that served me well in the times that were still to come. With luck, I won't need what I learned again...but if I do, I know that it is all still there, and that it can never be lost or taken from me. It was hard-earned, and worth the fight.
So Will was out with a friend last night, and the friend asked him if he was ready for Valentine's Day. Will told him nope, he didn't need to, Stacey doesn't buy into all that. The guy apparently responded with "You've got a lot to learn about women..."
More like the guy has a lot to learn about Stacey... <grin>
When he's not sleeping, keeping a watchful eye out the window, or lying on my lap preventing me from typing gracefully, this is how my silly kitty passes the time:
