Showing posts with label overload. Show all posts
Showing posts with label overload. Show all posts

Thursday, September 10, 2009

just thinking

He called the president a liar in front of God and everybody.

What has gotten into people? Shout outs at town hall meetings, boycotts of a presidential address to schools, and now there's a case before the supreme court where the argument is being made that because money can buy a media blitz it should be considered a right to free speech. Yeah, no.

I think it's all about control. The loss of it. At least it is that to which I attribute the anger, hostility, rudeness and self-righteousness that is so pervasive these days. There is so much uncertainty about jobs, money, whether or not the mortgage payment can be made and a family will be homeless in another month. It is about the cultural ego-slam when a man can't provide for his family. It is about gender bias when a woman is the head of a household and can't keep up. It is about the fear among the elderly whose nest-eggs have been robbed by the greed of a few. Closer to home it is about the concern for Junior when he deploys next in a unit that doesn't have the training and won't have the protection to which he's accustomed.

It's about daily survival, and it takes its toll.

We have concerns about money in our house, too. I'm not worried about the mortgage, but my credit rating is in the tank. That doesn't bode well for the future. There's no telling if it will recover or how long that will take. We have concerns about family estrangements, and the heartbreak tears at our souls a little with each day that goes by without movement toward resolution. Depression sucks air out of the motivation to do more to provide for our needs and recover from our wounds, fiscal and familial.

It's one day at a time, and it takes its toll. There are days when I feel right with the world and I get lots done and the people in my care are well served. There are days when survival barely allows me to spare them a thought. It's not fair to them, and I pray that the efforts of my better days compensate for those when I am merely surviving.

But I am not striking out. I am not disparaging another's character or shouting hateful words. I am not even thinking ill of someone who puts a bad face on the things I care about. In survival mode I am doing what I can to manage my life and use my time in a way that at the least benefits my household and my family, and then serves the needs of others. When we can't control the big things why can't we focus on the little things? Get the family together for a meal, wash a neighbor's car, plant a garden. Say "thank you" to someone every day for something they've done, expected or unexpected. Slap on some lipstick. Look at each day as a gift.

I have some friends who, when they get together for dinner they go around the table and offer up one thing that sucked about their day, and one thing that lifted it above the ordinary. It's a worthy endeavor, to acknowledge the crap and recognize the blessings. It puts life in perspective, shifts the focus away from the dregs and brings into the light at least one aspect of life that can be celebrated.

It's a place to start. And a world better than calling someone a liar.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

enough already!

You know I'm on overload when I get grouchy. The little things are what put me over the edge. Like a dog who, after eight ears of being so good and easy (this is evident by how seldom she appears on this blog!) has decided to act out. Juliet has been trained to the invisible fence since she was six months old, and has been obedient to it. Until recently.

The first few times she disregarded the collar correction she had merely ventured a few houses down the road, and it was always after dark. A few shouts of her name and she was home before worry could set in. Then she began to go farther. Then in the daylight. The last time I found her over on the next block, and this morning a drive through the neighborhood bore no sign of her. We've been careful to monitor her time outside, to keep an eye on her. This time she was out for mere minutes before she left the yard.

I don't know what's gotten into her. The collar works, but she doesn't seem to care. I can only think that it's McKinlee, which gives me pause. We can no longer trust Juliet to be out by herself at all. It looks like I will be returning to the pattern of pre-fence days at this house, when I walked her and Dooley twice a day. That was only three years ago, but I feel so much older than that now. Or do I have to make a choice between her and McKinlee? Juliet has little tolerance for the newest addition, which makes canine management a challenge.

Sigh. I don't need this. I need my energy for other things, like getting my Pampered Chef business going again so that I can bring some additional revenue into this house. (Ken does have a plan to work again, but he has had an awful spring and like me, lacks energy and motivation.)

Here's a thought: maybe this is Juliet's way to get me walking again. Hmm... now that is looking on the bright side.
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