Jealousy in the Spokes

No insomnia last night.  I dropped into bed after barely making it there.  I took Taekwondo which kicked my A$$, and then I came home and pretended to read for a while.  The words weren't quite making it to my brain.  I was visually looking at them, scanning the page, but then gave it up and turned in.  I'll probably have to re-read that whole chapter.  Oh well.

I woke up thinking about my middle sister.  Because she's in the witness protection program, I'll just call her Delores in this blog.  Yes.  Delores.  Jealousy began rearing it's ugly head the moment Delores met me.  Or maybe it was vice versa.  I'm still jealous of her today.  For one thing, she has this beautiful head of flowing brown hair.  It always looks perfect.  And I got this:

 

 

Not the baby.  The bald head.  This photo endlessly cracks me up, by the way. 

 

Most of the time Delores and I just fought.  We fought and fought and fought. And we did some horrible things to her.: my sister and brother and I.  We locked her in the closet and turned out the lights, and she was so afraid of the dark.  We wouldn't let her in our sticker club, because her stickers weren't good enough.  My Dad made us disband the sticker club after that one.  We made it our job to exclude her.  Unfortunate middle child that she was.

 

But jealousy really reared it's head on one fateful day.  We took piano lessons about two miles from our house.  We would bike there and bike back home.  One day biking back home, Delores' bag hit the spokes of her wheel, and she went tumbling off her bike. 

 

I'll never forget the pitiful look on her face, as she lay on the cracking sidewalk moaning in pain.

 

"I'll go get Mom," I announced.  I could be the hero!

 

I rode my bike all the way home and burst into the house.  My Mom was in the den watching the news with my older sister Sally. 

 

"Mom, Delores is hurt!  She fell off her bike."

 

"Tell her to hop on her bike and come on home!" (My Mom to this day HATES this part of the story).

 

Sally looked up and said, "I'll come with you."

 

We rode our bikes as fast as we could.  By the time we made it back to Delores a small crowd of people had surrounded her.

 

"Where's your Mom?"  One of the ladies asked me.  She was still wearing her purple hat from her earlier outing.

 

"She told me that Delores could ride her bike home."

 

At this point one of our neighbors pulled up.  "Lauren, does your Mom know?"

 

Exasperated by now, I suppose I probably screamed: "My Mom says she can get on her bike and come on home!" 

 

The adults seemed horrified by this, but now looking back I GET it.  Kids can be seriously dramatic or melodramatic--take your pick--and falling off a bike usually doesn't amount to serious harm.  My Mom probably thought Delores had scrapped her knee. 

 

Finally our neighbor convinced my Mom to come.  When my Mom saw Delores' knee it had swollen to the size of a watermelon.  She blanched, her face took on the look of Casper the Friendly Ghost, and then she immediately called my Dad.  Delores was taken to the hospital where they learned she had torn some ligaments and would actually need SURGERY.

 

In the days that followed, Delores was propped up in the guest bedroom.  She could watch all the TV she wanted, something that was strictly portioned in our house, and eat candy in bed.  Basically she could get away with murder!  She smiled as complete strangers brought her balloons and presents, making the guest bedroom look like she was having a month long birthday party. It simply was not fair!  At this point, I felt it was my duty to be her mortal enemy and not help her at all. 

 

Cast all the way up to her thigh, she'd call out, "Lauren, will you refill my water?"

 

"Get it your own self!" 

 

I hated she was getting all the attention.  Seriously what had she done?  Broken her knee, endured surgery, and for that she was showered in presents.  Did people know who she really was?  Did they know how she tortured me?  Jealousy had reared its ugly head, and from that point forward it was there to stay in our relationship!

 

Delores is the one person in the world for whom I am endlessly jealous...STILL.  She has so many qualities I wish I had.  She's such a hard worker.  She seems motivated all the time.  Still, no one is perfect, and I know she is just a person who I love very much.  I have to remind myself, even at 34 years old, that being jealous is a stupid emotion meant to make rifts and not bring you closer to people.  I have to love my sister for who she is not for who I'M not.  Jealousy stems from low self-esteem, from comparing yourself and wishing you were better or more or just plain different.  That's all it is, and the target usually has little to do with the actual problem, besides maybe physically representing someone you wish you were or something you wish you had.

 

 

Delores and me.  1983ish.

 

 



Earthquakes

I'm listening to "Little Earthquakes" right now, and it seems appropriate to my life.  Tori Amos sings, Doesn't take much to rip us into pieces. My life, this week, has been a series of little earthquakes.  I'm honestly afraid to leave the house today.

The title of my life this week could be, "Things Fall Apart."  (Great book, by the way, by Chinua Achebe). Or maybe Hubby and I stuck somewhere in the book, "A Series of Unfortunate Events."  Apparently, my life could fit into any number of titles.

First, I hit a dog.  Then Hubby ruptures his tendon.  We have (had?) plans this weekend too.  I have plans Friday night with friends, and then Hubby and I were (are?) to attend a wedding downtown, and have a night out on the town.  Now, I will need to be his shoulder to lean on.  I am not good at being the shoulder.  I'm not a particularly good caretaker.  I could never be a nurse.  I don't know what is expected of me.  I'm trying though.

Last night, by the time I arrived home, Hubby had hopped around making himself dinner and was sitting on the couch exhibiting extremely little pain.  I offered to pour him a glass of water, get him anything he needed, and he refused.  Maybe I'm a bad caretaker because he's a bad patient.  He wants to constantly do for other people and himself, and he sometimes can't accept help.

I'm just waiting for the next shoe to fall.  We seem to be in a downward spiral.  I'm almost afraid to leave my house today.

Hubby slipped into bed last night.  Neither one of us could sleep.  I had a lot on my mind, and he was in major pain.  He whispered, "I swear, we have the worse luck.  I feel cursed or something."

I feel bad for him.  He was putting himself out there.  He is so introverted, and it takes a lot for him to take that step into friendship.  He had just found this group of soccer guys and was getting to know them, and WHAM!: he's injured for three months. 

I don't believe in luck though.  I believe some things happen for a reason.  I believe other things are spontaneous, just like a dog walking straight into the right tire of your car and slipping under...

Thinking vs. Analyzing (or Plugged In)

Plugged In

Hubby and I always joke around and say I have a thinking problem.  This thinking problem contributes to my depression.  Well, the other day he sent me this article on texting. 

The article was interesting and informative.  Guess what? This article made me think.  This article actually made me think about my thinking problem.  From reading this article, I realized that I have an analyzing problem, not really a true thinking problem.  If I was just thinking and creating new ideas, this would enhance my creativity and most likely improve my happiness.  But, no, I’m thinking about and analyzing the past, the present and the future—thus making myself unhappy.  I’m doing this, because I rarely have any idle time or time to myself.  I fill up my brain with television, books, texting, Words with Friends, and I fill up my time with kids, friends, exercise, eating, and working.  I rarely have idle time to stop and think.   

According to the Merriam Webster dictionary, think literally means “to form or to have in the mind.” Analyze means, “to study or determine the nature and relationship of the parts of, by analysis.”  When I’m with my friends I’m always analyzing situations, politics, religion, you name it.  When I’m with my kids and my husband I’m reacting to circumstances, analyzing what is said and done, and acting or reacting from that analysis. 

Writing allows me to analyze certain paths in my life I took, or explore a situation in which I wasn’t happy with the outcome.  I do think when I’m writing, creative thoughts, but my ideas almost always are oriented in some aspect from my past or present that I’m trying to work through.  Thus, writing for me is a release, a way to completely analyze a situation and come to terms with the outcome or possible outcome. 

The only time I truly think is when I lie in bed at night, waiting for sleep to take over my brain.  I have sudden interesting thoughts about blog writing, I create new ideas in my head, and I don’t usually analyze the ideas to bits and pieces.  I love this idle alone time at night, although sometimes it does hinder my sleep. 

Our world has been taken over by technology in the last ten years.  Heck, in 2000 I had just bought my first cell phone, and now everyone has one.  Everyone has a computer and an ipad.  We find more and more ways to connect to each other without really connecting.  We our isolating ourselves, but feeling more connected in certain ways.  By texting, we can be in touch easily without the necessity to pick up the phone and hear another person’s voice.  This, however, doesn’t normally allow us to express sarcasm or have a deep conversation with another person.  And with the advent of texting, face to face communication has faltered.  Have you ever had a friend who you can text with easily but not talk to face to face?  I believe this is because of the lack of “thinking” involved in texting. 

I, like everyone else, see the value in texting but I also see the downside of using it as your main mode of conversation.  I see the downside in that it limits people’s downtime, affects creative output, productivity, and even draws people away from family time. 

I think it’s important to have some down time when you’re unplugged from the computer and the cell phone.  Set a limit by saying, “I’ll turn off my phone for this one hour period every day,” in order to have idle time or to spend time with my family.  Think, don’t analyze everything!