"Nothing Compares 2 U"

2016 has forced us to say goodbye to so many musical heroes.  Personally, I felt that David Bowie's and Prince's deaths were the most shocking because they were so unexpected.  I hadn't heard any mention of either man being sick.  Bowie had just released new music which I guess now was actually his way of saying goodbye to his fans.  Prince had performed on stage only a few weeks before his untimely passing.  I was not a huge fan of either singer but I respected the hell out of them for the creative unique musical geniuses that they were.  "China Girl"..."Under
Pressure"..."Fashion"..."Raspberry Beret"...."Kiss"..."Changes"....these were staples in my personal music rotation, and I'm so thankful for the joy they brought to my life. Hearing about the deaths of these artists definitely stirred up lots of feelings.  

One thing that tends to happen to me when death reaches out its bony tentacles and shakes up my life is that I shut down emotionally and hold people at arm's length.  Now, for an over-thinking introvert like myself, needing massive alone time isn't a huge change.  The difference is that instead of trying to deal with my issues on my own, I just deny that there are any problems. The BIG issues that I normally would wrestle with instead get swept under the rug until they bubble to the surface and explode in an ugly way.  My mortality seems to register in a way that makes me second guess my decisions and my daily life.  When I lost my 27 year old cousin to the drug addiction battle, I was a naive 23 year old who didn't know the horrible realities associated with addiction. Up to that point, I was always the "good girl" in the family, the smart one, the one who followed all the rules.  That changed drastically once I lost Nino.  Suddenly,  I was transformed into a cold and unfeeling bitch.  I became much more cynical and untrusting.  And it seemed like I was angry all the time.  All I knew was that my beloved cousin who I looked up to had, in my mind, "abandoned" his family which included two young children under the age of 3.  I was angry with him and did my best to "forgive" him for leaving all of us.  I also tried to be there for his young family as they began their new reality.  I selfishly judged my cousin for putting drugs over his family even as I myself was teetering on the edge of alcoholism. I couldn't see his pain (because he hid it so well)  so I assumed there wasn't any.   It was an awful time where I pretended to be okay with the loss in front of others while drinking heavily to drown out the mixed feelings of anger, sadness, and abandonment that  I felt towards the boy who was my childhood hero.  I'm ashamed to admit that whenever someone else mentioned how sorry they felt for my cousin and for his pain,  internally I scoffed and discounted his feelings.  It wasn't until I started to read about addiction and to learn about all the pressure my poor cousin was feeling that I turned a corner and began to see addiction for what it really is, a disease.  Unfortunately, this realization took a few years and in those few years I took many risks in my life which could have ended tragically.  By the time I turned 27, I could clearly see how young Nino was and how much pain he must have been in to engage in an activity that he knew could end his life.  His death taught me not to make rash judgements.  It also taught me the true meaning of the saying "There but for the grace of God go I".

While the learning curve following Nino's death was a long one, the lessons I learned from my father's death were much clearer earlier on.  When my father was diagnosed with leukemia, the same disease that had taken his sister, I was scared out of my mind.  My outgoing, vivacious, wise-cracking Zia Vittoria suffered for so many years from that awful disease.  It took the life out of her a little bit each day until she finally couldn't fight it any longer.  When I first heard the diagnosis, I prayed that he wouldn't have to follow the same path as his younger sister.  While I was quite shaken, I was determined not to let it show to my family.  At the time, I was unemployed and desperate to get another teaching position.  My depression and anxiety had caused me to quit my previous position, and my father's illness just added another layer of misery to my life.  But as the "new normal" of Dad's illness began to form, I realized that I could actually help him instead of just make the offer to help.  My older sister was working full time, and my younger sister was unable to help out so I stepped in and took him to his many doctor appointments which included trips to the hospital for blood transfusions.  Now, I know no one likes hospital visits but I really hated going to hospitals.   Knowing that my father needed these transfusions to keep him alive and seeing how much better he felt following the transfusions made me put on my big girl panties and suck it up.  After he spent his whole life providing for his family, this was the absolute least I could do for my father.  Sitting by his side as he received chemo treatments or blood transfusions, I actually felt grateful that I was unemployed.  If I had been teaching, I would not have been available to be there for him.  Maybe I would have tried to once again drown my grief in alcohol.  At the very least, I would have felt guilty for not being to help out more.  "Everything happens for a reason".  Another truth was revealed through the death of a loved one.

Even though all of the high profile deaths that have occurred thus far in 2016 have not touched me personally, they do make me reflective of how I'm living my life. Prince was only 10 years older than I am now.  Have I accomplished all the I have wanted? (ummm..no) Have I lived my life in a way of which I can be proud? (yes, I think so) But what I am sweeping under the rug? Maybe it's time to do some of those things that I've convinced myself I can't do. Maybe it's time to reach out instead of withdrawing from all the possibilities that are out there.  I can choose to put on my raspberry beret and face all of the changes that life has for me.

Love is a Losing Game

One of the reasons I love April so much is that it is the month that baseball season starts.  While I discovered some new favorite shows (i.e. Scandal) and caught up on some old ones on Apple TV over the winter, nothing is better than watching a game on a Sunday afternoon.  Or a Tuesday night. Or a Friday late night game.  Once the cleats come out, my television viewing schedule changes abruptly.  I am a devoted Yankee fan and love (and when they're losing, hate) watching them.
So, this week has been a happy one as I settle into the new baseball season.

People seem to be perplexed about baseball fans in general.  No one ever questions why a football fan gets so worked up over his/her team.  Not being a fan of football,  I often wonder why so much of sports radio is so devoted to this game that has such a short season compared to baseball.  Even now, with the baseball season in full swing (pardon the pun), most of sports radio is focused on individual football players and their run-ins with the law, the football draft, and even the summer camps that are still months away.  There might be a conversation about how a lousy start one team is having (ahem, my Yanks) or about the crazy hot hitting streak displayed by another player ( like Toronto's Edwin Encarcion) .  It just seems like people don't really pay attention to baseball until the dog days of summer.  And by then, a team's season can be over.  Football fans and broadcasters never seem to give up on their teams until the very last moment and even then, they are already looking into the next season.  It just seems skewed to me somehow, but I admire how rabid their belief in their teams is.  Maybe it's the length of the baseball season that gives us fans a more long-view approach to our excitement.  In fact, if a team is playing too good in April baseball fans will say "Yeah, well it's only April.  Let's see how they do in October".  We also get pretty superstitious about things like not mentioning a perfect game or a no hitter in progress.  It just seems like baseball fans are a much more cautious bunch when compared to the rah-rah football fans.

This dichotomy of football fever and baseball slow burn is reminiscent to me of how I view my professional goals versus my personal goals.  I have written before about how I have had a unique career as an educator.  I have held close to 10 positions in 27 years in education including stints as a literacy coach, professional development specialist, and teacher in every grade in elementary teaching except third grade.  My places of employment have ranged from private schools to public school districts to BOCES organizations.  Every time I made a move it was accompanied by the same excitement and confidence that football fans seem to ooze no matter what time of year it is.  Whether I was leaving the classroom to try my hand at literacy coaching or finally getting to teach little ones again, I always had a positive and optimistic outlook.  More than a few people have been puzzled by my decisions to leave certain positions to start over somewhere else (I have received tenure twice and left a district recently during my tenure year where I was pretty sure I would be getting tenure again).  But the security associated with tenure never meant that much to me.  I was confident that my skills as an educator were more than enough to ensure that my employment would be extended if I wanted it to be.  I love keeping up on the latest educational research and need no one to tell me I need a certain number of professional development hours (Thanks anyway, NYSED).  The confidence and fearlessness I have felt and displayed in my professional life have helped me develop a varied and interesting resume.  I feel in the flow professionally, and every new position has made me better and better.  And I STILL love being an educator...go Ms. Lo!

But  there is a  curve ball (can't help myself, sorry) or a definite contradictory force at work in my personal life.  Most of my adult life I have wanted to be married with children. As much as I have loved teaching, I would have traded it all in a minute if I could have found the right man earlier in my life. All of the self-confidence and well thought out strategy associated with my professional life is more scarce when it comes to my personal life.  Just like the team that is hot in April, when I have been attracted to a man in the past it seemed like I was always waiting for that other shoe to drop.  While I may be confident in his feelings for me, there was also be that little voice cautioning me not to be too complacent.  The perfectionist in me would rear its ugly head, and before I knew it my expectations were out of sync with the reality of the relationship.  Sometimes I just made the wrong choice in who to allow in my life.  Other times I just overlooked what was wrong from the beginning in the hopes that maybe he would become "The One". This mismatch of what I think I have with a man and what I actually do share with him has helped ruin more than one relationship.  It's hard to get to be 48 years old and not become less than excited about the prospect of starting over with another man.  Well meaning friends and family have urged me to try any one of a variety of strategies (match making web sites, cooking classes, community groups) equivalent with "putting myself out there" knowing full well that they would absolutely HATE to be in my position.  Just like the Yankees, I have an end goal in mind.  For them it's always the World Series.  For me? It's meeting a man who is attracted to me that doesn't make my skin crawl.  I joke, but the excitement of being attracted to someone new is hard to muster when my heart is still with a man who has moved on without me.

Right now I feel like that team in April that is off to a slow start yet still knows that a World Series appearance is a possibility.  The Yankees are definitely that team this year.  Their bats are silent but the pitching has been consistent.  As a fan, I know that it's only April and that in time, they will start to hit...as long as they stay healthy...and hopefully the filthy 8th and 9th inning pitching will continue...because after all it is only April.  I'm certainly not ready to throw in the towel on the season.  I guess I can say the same about my personal life too.  But  as for my goal of becoming a wife and mother, it is no longer April.  In fact, it feels like the dog days of August are upon me. While becoming a mother may be in the rear view mirror (still tear up even typing this), I guess it is still possible that I will be able to build a relationship with the right man.  I just need to get back into the game.