It’s been a year, now what?

Last time I posted, I was talking about how I was going to focus on my health in 2016.

Bwahahahahahaha!

Except I did, sort of.  The truth is that I was reminded of how there is no silver bullet for anything (save maybe rest and liquids for a cold, and Berocca for a hangover.) Every effort I make to improve some aspect of my health has a trade off. For instance – lose that extra 5 pounds? No more cake. Want less GI grumbling? No more hummus. More sex with my husband? Get up earlier since he’s asleep by 8pm. Now, I get it – all of these things are worth it, right? If the goal is to live a long, healthy life, then yes. But if the goal is just to live… that’s different – and there’s a lot of grey area there.

In other news, a year has passed since I’ve written about my bonus daughter with mental health issues. She is now a full fledged almost-14-year old. And what a complete bitch sometimes. I know. Its not polite to speak that way – about a child, about a woman, yada yada. But y’all don’t live with her. Even her Mom and Dad refer to her that way. Not to her face, of course. To her face, we are all kinds of calm, and say the things we’re supposed to say… the prep from the therapists, the parenting books, etc. We tell her we love her but no, its not ok to continue to berate us just for existing. Some stuff – the not flushing the toilet EVER, leaving all doors open, not putting her shoes away – I think its a byproduct of being raised like a princess and the last few years of asking her to change isn’t going well. She is honestly the laziest human being I’ve ever met. Again – this is not a secret in our homes. She genuinely has no desire to do anything better. The only motivators she has are using her iPod and walking herself to school. Her Mom is constantly fixing or ‘helping’ her with homework. The girl has never failed. When she does poorly, she complains to the teachers, who call her Mom, who works with the teachers to re-test and re-work and give more chances. I can’t see how that’s setting her up to succeed in life, but I can see how its setting her up to believe everyone else is going to clean up her messes.

Ah. Sweet release.

Palm trees

A teacher once told me that when you are writing your personal stories, often you need perspective. Sometimes, the experience is too raw to process well enough to then convey accurately – or if not accurately, effectively, in an entertaining or interesting manner. But occasionally you just need to get the shit down on paper and let it flow, whether it happened 10 years or 10 minutes ago. Today, I’m going to listen to the teacher’s advice, though, because what I’m feeling most heartbroken about are my failures as a mother – and that alone could fill a book.

So, today, palm trees. I am on a mini-moon with my man. After a few days in Vegas for a conference, we’ve just hit Palm Springs for a couple of nights then off to LA. We’re taking our ‘real’ honeymoon in December but this feels like a nice getaway. We swam in the pool tonight and as I looked up at the palm trees swaying, I was reminded of when I first moved to California. I had just turned 20, and had been dreaming of this move for as long as I could remember, and as long as I could write. There I was, at a friend of a friend’s family house in San Diego, marveling at their backyard. Instead of grass and birch trees, they had rocks and avocado trees. Orange, lemon, cacti, and palms everywhere. I remember craning my neck to watch the palm fronds undulate, back and forth, much like hair underwater. The turquoise blue sky behind them provided such a stark contrast that I thought I was still dreaming… Here I am, exactly where I’m supposed to be. And while, obviously, I was supposed to move to NYC 20 years later and meet my man, I still dream of California – both the life I had before and the life I will have again. So, tonight, as I floated on my back, water blocking my ears from any sound, I watched the palm fronds sway in the wind and for a minute, it felt like home.