
Well, we made it through the first decade of the 2000's in one piece. Kind of.
The generally silly adventures of a chubby girl trying to drop some weight and gain some perspective.
Max died yesterday morning. Our old, arthritic cocker spaniel couldn’t manage to die peacefully in his sleep- no, he had to tumble down the stairs and break every bone in his body. We don’t go quietly into the night, We Gattones. It’s a testament to Max’s importance to our family that as much of my family as could do so made the trip to the vet’s office to be with him while he died. He went with his boots on and died in the arms of the woman he loved most (that would be my mother). An honorable death, and I suspect one Max would have preferred to going quietly in his sleep.
Max wasn’t our dog. We were his people. He so had the Gattone personality- he barked so much when he was outside Mom and Dad had to put a bark collar on him (which my brother stupidly put over his own throat and found out it works by zapping you), he was constantly running so fast that he would trip over his paws and slide across the hardwood floors and he ate pretty much whatever you handed to him or made the mistake of putting within his reach. If any of us were fighting or wrestling he jumped into the middle of it. Not to defend anyone, mind you, just for the pure joy of fighting.
Ever since my brother Anthony gave me the news, I’ve been crying off and on. I did what I think he would have done himself if able- had a good long walk, ate a cheeseburger for lunch. I think the best way I can honor him is to list the things he taught me and that we all could learn from:
Lesson: If you love someone, you should wait for them.
Lesson: Always make an entrance.
Lesson: Never be too ashamed to go after what you want and go after it til you get it.
Lesson: If you get a bad feeling about something or someone, trust it.
Lesson: Don’t be too proud to take help when you need it.
Lesson: When someone does something that hurts you (intentionally or not), its okay to need some space. But you also need to forgive.
Lesson: There’s no accounting for taste.
Lesson: There will be times when you look awfully foolish, be it by your hand or someone else’s, and you may be humiliated. But you can also bear it gracefully.
Lesson: It’s the thought that counts.
Lesson: Go down swinging. Why deny when you can finesse?
Lesson: He knew how to love and he knew how to live.
Last but not least…
Lesson: There is not another male alive that I would let do that, so don’t get any ideas.
Title got you to read this, huh? Well, its not false advertising. I was reading a magazine today, and there was a feature that caught my eye- a series of essays by writers who are also breast cancer survivors. One essay in particular spoke to me. She had been 32 when she had cancer- my age- had always been, say, on the buxom side, didn’t like it, and after she lost hers to cancer even preferred her new, reconstructed bosom. She had her children afterwards. She didn’t regret not having her breasts anymore until one day 15 years later when all of a sudden she remembered everything that was wonderful about them and just cried.
It broke my heart. I suppose there are levels on which I related- same age, I actually had to have a lump in my breast checked out this August- my second- well, it turned out to be the same lump both times, just a different doctor this time. Awesome. Better safe than sorry, I guess. Able to relate to being proud of one’s chest (her the reconstructed chest, me the original)- heck yeah I am. What struck me more was her regret at not appreciating what she had when she had it. We’re all guilty of that, of course. As Joni Mitchell sang in “Big Yellow Taxi,” Don’t it always seem to go that we don’t know what we got til its gone? This is the woman that brought us “Both Sides Now.” All hail Joni.
In March 2007, I was mugged by a gang of teenagers. That was followed by the first lump in my breast, my home being broken into and the piece de resistance, a huge car wreck 2 weeks before my birthday that totaled my car on body damage alone and left me pretty battered too. I now call 2007 my landslide year. Two weeks later, on my birthday, July 24th, arm still in a sling, we toasted that I had made it to 29 at all. We made light of it, but seriously, three bullets had just whizzed by my ear. I was so grateful to be alive at that point, and swore never to forget how short life is- tried to make up with a few family members I don’t get along with, tried to get back in the dating pool- it worked temporarily. Thing is, when the euphoria wore off, I still had to do the work to heal from everything that happened, which I still wasn’t interested in doing. Hell, I didn’t bother to start doing the work until last fall. I have some issues with depression, and in the throes of it, I’m not particularly grateful for anything, not even being alive. It’s an ugly place to be, scary to be in, scarier to get out of, and scariest to try and heal what put you there so you can try to avoid falling in again, as I've been doing this last year. But I also wonder what life could have had for me had I been open to it sooner. Oops.
Which leads me back to our friend- when she got a pang, she would remind herself that she was alive, that’s what counted, and remind herself of what she didn’t miss about them. I think we’ve all done that too. When we’re dumped, our friends remind us of all the reasons we won’t miss the person who cast us aside. Ditto any possession we lose. Lost a ring? I didn’t like it anyway- and so forth. I read the regret in our friend’s writing that she would never feel anything there when making love, had never breastfed, and how weird it was that they were just oddly perfect. It made me think- the only thing harder than appreciating something you have is appreciating something you had. Its scarier, more painful. But we have to do it. As Lee Ann Womack sang, “Loving might be a mistake but its worth making.” A Republican, but still…
In Buddhism we acknowledge that both lightness and dark, both joy and sorrow are part of life, and to be thankful for the lights and try to learn from the darks. As I find my daily chanting changing to be less “please help me be/ please give me” and more “thank you for,” our friend reminded me of the repercussions of not appreciating what you have til its gone and of how thankful I am that I am not in that mindset anymore. As painful as it is to acknowledge how valuable someone or something that I do not have is, I do it. And if there’s a third time at the Disney Cancer Center (apparently a breast man- funny, yes, but think about it- those Disney princesses are stacked!) and the third time isn’t a charm (knock on wood), my girls will be well-loved and appreciated every moment that they are still a part of my body. As for those whom I love, I aim for them to feel fully appreciated by me every second that they are part of my life. And like our friend who appreciates what she lost from afar, I will appreciate the value of what I lost, from afar.
There was a sitcom theme song that has the line, "The more you learn, the less you know." Its totally true. I have learned a lot this past month and realized how much I thought I knew and actually didn’t. I think this stupid eye thing may be the best thing to happen to my adult self because being forced to slow down forced me to think more, and I realized I was not thinking enough. Well, no- I was actually thinking too much, but at the wrong time. Its amazing how much less I overthink things after they happen when I am thinking about it while they happen and not just shooting off my mouth. Fascinating how much less I get myself into trouble when I take more than a minute to absorb things before I respond. Its good for the whole being less stressed out thing too.
Now when I have an impulse to do something, say something, right that minute, I stop and give myself time- an hour, even a day or two to mull it over, and most of the time I realize its not a good idea. Not that I don't still have my moments or fly off the handle- sure I do. Not that I don't still have to be scraped off the ceiling when something upsets me enough. Oh, I do. The moments are fewer and farther between, but I’m still me. That being said, when I do, I tend to take responsibility for my words or actions on the spot. Before, I tended to not realize my misstep until after the fact then be too chicken to take responsibility because I didn't want the reprimand I knew I deserved, or I simply called it a wash and walked away. I don’t really regret things that I do or that happen, they made me who I am today and I am awesome. I do regret things I have said without thinking. Heck, I'm even taking responsibility for words and actions that were months, years old, but still regretted. Have I understood I was going to get shut down for even bringing it up, let alone apologizing? Sure I have. And it sure didn't sting any less now than if I had just womaned up and taken responsibility for my actions on the spot. Yep, still hurt- can't really fault 'em, though. I kind of feel like Jack Nicholson at the end of Something’s Gotta Give. I ‘m better for it- I’m creating a new neural pathway- a more responsible and considerate one.
My Buddhist mentor would probably tell me it’s the chanting that is creating change. Well, I did chant for my eye to heal and not be damaged. Did it. Chanted for my gohonzon (scroll for the altar)- got it. Chanted to learn to handle stress better and let go, not try and control so much. Working on it. Chanted for help losing weight- as the Wicked Witch of the West said, I’m melting. Not to be a bad Buddhist, but I think I’m just doing some well past due growing up.
By the way, when you chant for clarity- be prepared to get it. Be prepared to get it in spades.
As the Wicked Witch of the West also says, Oh, what a world.