Happy New Year! Twenty -Five Years of Blogging and Friendship

 I am thankful to be alive and relatively healthy, still here, wanting to do many many more things in my life! Being single at this stage of life is the best! And the worst.....Sometimes I think I'd enjoy the company of a man on a regular basis, then I remember cooking obligatory dinners (when I'd much rather cook together), checking with someone else before I make a decision (like I would), coordinating family plans and events with extended families...nd a million other small add-on stressors that you gloss over when you  live with someone else.
 But if I fall in loveI shall reconsider(wink)
After being happily alone for more than twenty years, I've realized how blessed I am in the Late Fall of my life. I retired from teaching six years ago. I love a life without alarm clocks, bells and cafeteria food.I enjoy my own company, but I do get lonely from time to time. 

From 2008 "The Christmas Meme" 

I love spending time with my kids and grandchildren, ages 20, 13 and 5 - college, middle school and kindergarten. Never a dull moment at the dinner table. 

Baby Boy is majoring in Computer Science, Beans is majoring in girls and BabyBree is majoring in Barbie. Perfect! They teach me about video games and I sneak in a peace globe conversation from time to time. I want them on that rain ya see......
Which season are you in?Which season have you enjoyed the most?
I've noticed, also, that people from my past keeping showing up.  I'm stumbling over them in the grocery store and thrift store. Long lost relatives with news to tell, high school friends, friends of friends and acquaintances that should have been more than that; maybe we'll get a do-over. Who knows?  Is it truly a coincidence? Or does the Universe have a rhyme and reason?That's to be determined. I'll keep you posted.Has this phenomenon ever happened to you?

                                                         Out on the river in 2018 with my Beans

As for you and I....I'm glad you're still here in Blogworld.I'm happy we met in the BlogoVerse in 2005when learning to decorate a blog with colored fonts and photos from PhotoBucket and ImageChef was as high-tech as we could go. But we helped each other through it and some of us even learned to code from scratch. Technorati was everything and memes rocked our world. ReMEMEber?
I wish you the best of health and true happiness in our twentieth year of friendship. I think I know most of you well. I've met several of you in the real world. A pleasure! Let's keep in touch. 
Tell me about your season.How's your life going?

2006 Blogging Meltdown at the computer
                   
Follow Me

Join us for Blog4Peace Nov 4

Like Our Facebook Page

Peace Store

Monday Mimisms ~ Touching Memories

Don't you hate it when you're discussing something of importance to you that is causing some angst and the person sitting across from you says, "Oh, let it go. You've got to let that go. Just let it go." REALLY ????POOF. GONE like Girl Gone??
HardlyWalk a mile in my snowshoes, Buster! I don't know what the magic bullet is in these matters, but I DO know (and have recently discovered) that when I'm ready to let something go, I'm ready. REALLY ready. Not one minute sooner. Not at the moment of glibness, right on time! 

As I opined on Facebook's mass platform of memes....
I'm getting better at letting go. I noticed today as I threw out bag after soggy box in the basement (Did you know there was a GREAT FLOOD in Bloggingham yesterday??) that hardly any of it bothered me. Nothing I couldn't part with was damaged and it game me an excuse to deeply purge. That roll top desk I've been staring at for 40 years? I used it in the piano room of my first house. Donated.

My son's infant chest of drawers. Donated.
Twelve notebooks of meticulously created Music Theory and Sight-Reading lessons, complete with originally composed vocalize for my classroom back in the day?

That was a hard one.....ummmm...it took weeks to gather all the resources (stop it, Mimi!) You're not teaching anymore and you're so old those resources are out of print)! GONE
But it was nice to sing them again before I trashed them. 
A few lamps were ruined but I realized they weren't my style anymore. Now I can buy newer ones that suit me better.   Silver lining!I threw away five Christmas trees. FIVE! Who wants a soggy tree?Twenty-five bags later and I'm still far from finished.

I'm exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.Rinse. Repeat. Tomorrow.
I touched a lot of memories today. Stories! Stories I'd forgotten.You will most undoubtedly hear them.There are some sad AND marvelous tales in that basement...most are completely unbloggable.
Homer made me sign a non-disclosure agreement 

Back to the soggy dungeon.  See you on the upside.

Follow Me

Join us for Blog4Peace Nov 4

Like Our Facebook Page

Peace Store

Monday Mimisms ~ Happy in My New Year

Mimi 2008 

Monday Mimisms ~ Happy in My New Year

Welcome to 2024 in the year of the blog. Thanks to the WayBack Machine (keep of old blogs!) blogs are infinite and eternal, omnipotent and omnipresent.  I wish people have one of those machines. We could crank up our young, newer, healthier bodies and go from there. 

Back in the day when I used to hide behind trees all day long and try to conjure a word or two, blogging was much more intimate. Our communities were a tight-knit group. We looked out for each other. When the occasional naysayer or troublemaker showed up, we (usually) shoooed them away and blogged on. With the exception of the peace globe bloggers (AMAZING you are!) most of my blogging friends are posting on Facebook or Instagram. I enjoy interacting with you on social media platforms, but sometimes it takes me years to put two and two together..."Oh! Cindy is really Blogging Catalina from Amsterdam! Who knew?" And then we have a small reunion.  There are those who do not want blog and real life Facebook to meet. Totally understandable. I try to honor those requests. I won't out you! 

But seriously, I'm amazed that the majority of my friends on Facebook are peace bloggers. We've gotten to know each other over the years in more personal ways (thanks, Facebook) but as many of us have discussed, it's just not the same as regular blogging. "Blogging is dead," we say....MAYBE....but that's not going to stop me from re-entering the arena.  Blogging makes me happy. Journaling makes me happy. Writing feeds my soul. And I PROMISE...this year I will publish a book off-blog...I PROMISE!! 

2023 was a loooooong year for me and so many of my friends. I've had perpetual health challenges and a car accident mid-year that I'm just now starting to recuperate from, realizing that blogging and living in my 60s is a different universe. Retirement is wonderful!! Aches and pains are not. It takes a little longer to recover from trauma than it used to. 

 Still, I'm determined to fully regain my health in 2024.

I had a fantastic healing beautiful Christmas visit with my kids and grandchildren in their home (as it should be). I have room for a little more hope these days. Let's stay on this path, shall we?

***wait a minute....I thought I wouldn't have anything to say this morning when I decided to crank up the blog; instead, I'm a regular bloggermouth (that's blog + blabbermouth for all your non-blog speakers)....**

I truly hope that if you are still blogging or have a new platform, that you will leave a link below so that we can stay connected and supportive. 

This morning, after meditation/prayer, washing dishes, making bed, starting laundry, feeding Snickers, organizing a drawer...I stopped mid-chore and asked myself, "What creative thing have your done in three hours? Exactly how are you spending your time, Mimi? Priorities seem to be askew!"

And while all those things must be done and I am content to do them, the only thing remotely creative was my silent time (essential to my day) but then I jumped right back on the To-Do Train. This must stop!!!! And it must stop now. 

THIS was dangerous and exciting...

While I don't think meme--stealing is exactly my vibe anymore, I sure am thankful for the fun times right here on Mimi Writes. But that book has been writing itself for awhile in my pencil head, many chapters here in the Blogosphere with you. So much more to tell. I think the crux of the matter is that with age comes wisdom. How much to blab? What to camouflage...But I think I have the perfect balance between privacy and authenticity in mind now. The latter always wins. Always.

 Not to fear, the "old" (vintage!) Mimi will show up soon enough with new pencil skirt tales of craziness. 

It's already happened.

I just posted on Facebook, "New year, new routine. Before I sat down to write the first blog post of the year (new routine) I reached for the bottle of Vitamin C serum (on the right below) and smeared it all over my face...except...ummm....what's that smell??!

It was CBD oil.

I'll be happy all the day long. 

This is going to be one doozy of a post. 

They look alike, right? In case you're wondering, No, I did not wash it off."

Ananda Full spectrum hemp extract 300.
Ten mg cannabinoids oil for nerve pain.
Works for me! Let's see what it does for my wrinkles.

Some things never change.

Welcome to my vintage blog and all the memories it holds. 

Let's make some new ones.

You can smell the cannabis from there right? 

Snickers won't come near me.

Join us for BlogBlast For Peace Nov 4 Like Our Facebook Page ~ How To Get Yo
Follow Me

Join us for Blog4Peace Nov 4

Like Our Facebook Page

Peace Store

Monday Mimisms ~ Powerful Whispers

Where have I been? It's been a minute. The entire month of June got away from me. Complications showed up. I took a fall on the porch and spent a few painful days sleeping away the bruises. Friends said, "Rest and heal!" That's sooo hard to do. I'm a terrible patient. I keep pushing through sans common sense. 
Lost my writing mojo for one red hot minute while the anti-inflammatory meds became the most important task of the day - but sorely needed (pun intended).

Finding courage in an antique store
2013 - Revisited this post and reclaimed my writing chops

Then I got off my prissy behind (literally) and started venturing out again.
More thrifting. Lunches with beautiful friends to catch up. Soaking in Epsom. Burning lavender candles in the middle of the day. 

Looking for furniture as I redecorate my house. More gentle house decluttering. All gingerly. Slowly. Mindfully. Thankfully. I came so close to breaking my hip. Ummm....perhaps I should sloooooowwww down instead of thinking I'm a modern version of Laura Ingalls Wilder on the Bloggingham Prairie trying to do things I shouldn't be doing. Getting tangled up in a heavy water hose was NO fun. 

I couldn't sit for long periods of time, which turned out to be a good thing: it made me get outside and wander around. Sunshine and grass under my feet. Good for the soul....and the soles.
Naps happened.

 The Lion spoke ten years ago this spring. 
I remember the sound of the muse. Powerful whispers.
And his roar. I'd like to catch a glimpse of him again. It took falling down to get my attention.  I'm ready for a new set of words.
I'm ready for inspiration from the Lion. 
I wonder if he remembers....

Dusting off my pen and paper...

Follow Me  

Join us for Blog4Peace Nov 4

Like Our Facebook Page

Peace Store

Monday Mimisms ~ Toes Out the Window

I was seventeen. 

Performing in 1974

My hair weighed more than I did.

We'd just finished a Beatles medley for the student body of our high school

and all I wanted to do was step out of the Yellow Submarine we'd build out of  cardboard and slide into the passenger seat of my boyfriend's car

 Toes out the window. Coca-Cola in my hand.

Hair-in-a-ponytail-happy-I was.

Fast forward forty-seven years. 

and volcanoes are exploding in my pencil head

Pandemic Me

So much time on my hands

Thinking about the one I should have married

Thinking about the one I could have married

The one I shouldn't have married

The one I didn't marry

All of those shoulda-woulda missteps brought lifelong consequences unbeknownst to the long-haired girl.

The one who got away before I found myself at the ripe old age of thirty-something. 

What is it about sixty-something that causes one to psychoanalyze the whole of a life?  

Shouldn't I be knitting sweaters or something? 

Who does that?

Me. This week. That's who.

Then I hit a big bodacious bad brick wall. SCREEEEECCCCHHHH.

BAM. OUCH.

Last Thursday night I was sitting on the couch staring at the wall in silence, evicting a few rickety ghosts from my head, watching them fly away into mist. Scribbling on paper. I'd been there awhile...just kind of numb. Needing to not-think. You get that, right?  There had been unpleasantness, you see. 

I don't like unpleasantness. I like peace.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Meditate. Pray. Listen.

Before I knew it, all the ropes that held me down had been untied. I lit a match and symbolically burned a paper full of angry words in my left hand. 

Watched it burn. Watched it burn.

Ashes. Poof. Gone.

Then picked up what was left of those I-should-have-could-have-shouldn't-have people with my right hand and blew. them. away. 

I looked at the clock. It was 2 am. 

I straightened my dented crown and went to bed.

I've been on a slippery slope you see.

Trying to function and still save me.

There. I said it.

It doesn't matter how long ago your loved one last misused a substance or drank to excess or suffered a bout of depression, in a mother's head and heart they're always a fool's breath away from active destruction; except with addiction or alcoholism or even narcissism it's mutual destruction. A person with a substance use or personality disorder can look at you stone cold sober holding a Bible in one hand and Holy Water in the other and you still won't believe they're sober or truthful.

That's my problem, not theirs.

I don't want to cover it up anymore.

Not because of my beautiful loved one - he's been successfully working his sobriety for many years - 

but because of ME.

Standing in the wide weary gulf between helping and enabling 

when I found myself alone and climbing out of the recent brief foxhole we shared,

it resurrected all kinds of emotional baggage from years and years ago when he was actively struggling with substances. Oh, the memories. We found ourselves dancing to that worn-out record despite ourselves

my eyes were opened

to what I had become

what I needed to deal with

what I needed to admit

what I needed to understand

what I needed to

stop

doing

Don't you hate that word?

What word, Mimi?

Codependency

Yes, I hate it.

The day I started blogging, half my face fell off

Then all kinds of wonderful adventures began

Today, this many years young,

I found the other half again.

There is a thin line dangling between the edge of authenticity and the need for dignity and privacy. My writing has always walked that wire. But in every word and every story I try to err on the side of transparency, in the same way I would want less shame-based words applied to the people I love.

Addict is not a noun or an identity. Alcoholic is not a noun or an identity. Codependent is not a noun or an identity. They are disorders and struggles, not moral failures. The disease is not the person.

I've wanted to say it for years.

That I am proud of him

That I love him with all my heart

That I see him

Despite me and my uneven walk with worry and faith

But just for a little while, I think we need a mini-divorce.

Hush Homer. I'll be checking your medicine cabinet tomorrow..

 Just until I regain my sea legs and he sprouts more of those beautiful wings.

He can be free to make his own adventures 

 I won't be holding him hostage with my smothering

I can be free to make my own adventures 

 not holding myself back with fear 

What codependency does to your peace of mind is insidious and suffocating 

You don't even know it's happening! 

It's a learned belief and habit that I must unlearn

Have you ever seen your son or daughter nearly dead from a disease?

You'll do anything to keep that from happening again. Even when you no longer need to. Even years later. And therein lies the devil of enabling.

The job of addiction is to kill and destroy. When you enable (helping someone do something they can do for themselves) at first you believe you're actually helping. You feel good about it. You get a rush of feel good dopamine. Sound familiar? 

Here's the problem. The real sneaky job of enabling is also to kill and destroy. 

 My hardwired need to protect, spills over into the decisions I make about everything and everyone else in my life. Now that was an eye-opener.

Codependency grows from a normal natural parental instinct which screams protect.my.child. Mothers have it the moment their babies are born.

There's no shame in it. It's motivated by love. 

But with substance disorder, because of the unpredictable trauma that goes on in families as a result, it can grow wild and out of control and you start looking for a recurrence of symptoms in your loved one. It drives them away. It feels like moral judgment even when your intention is to only throw love. 

Sometimes I move about the world in shoe-drop mode, post trauma reactions that aren't even real in the moment. It's not irrational or hypothetical. The triggers of past events can still be seen in my mind and felt in my heart.

So I make up my own scary stories in the now and convince myself that I need to DO something to prevent them from happening again. It's that dead-child-coffin-dream fear, to put it bluntly. It's very common for parents of children who've suffered from substance abuse. It's like you're watching a horror show on the big screen of your life. The substance has the starring role, the protagonist. Everyone is in desperately twisted love with the alcohol, the pill, the high, the drama. Your loved one is drowning. You are the unintentional antagonist. Everyone dies.

You run yourself ragged trying to help. It doesn't help. It makes things worse because they lose the dignity of making their own choices. And you lose your mind watching them suffer.

I think I dented my crown when I hit that wall, my friends.

But I'll be OK.

No matter how many times I stick my toes out the window and put my hair in a ponytail, some days are like a roller coaster ride.  You either hold on or fall off.

But mostly, I discovered the amusement ride in my head wasn't fun.

I joined a support group. I took an assessment. I signed up for a codependency class online. I wrote emails and ask questions. I watched podcasts on parents who also struggle with enabling NODDING and NODDING and NODDING my head.

Who knew I belonged to a club that no one wants to belong to all these years? 

 I didn't join to fix him. I joined to fix me.

Follow Me

Join us for Blog4Peace Nov 4

Like Our Facebook Page

Peace Store

Monday Mimisms ~ Getting Back To Me

         The housing market exploded into doom-for-buyers about the time they settled in. No reasonable rent to be found. No affordable housing on the horizon. 
          They were stuck here with me, Homer, Snickers, squirrels and trees. For the past eighteen months I've had guests in my house; changing jobs, seeking housing, and going with the flow of economic turmoil. The bonus? A delightful 3-year-old who calls me Mimi liberally planted kisses on the mirrors....and on me...every single day.  It's been challenging and wonderful all at once. At times the experience forged our relationships with in-your-face fire, followed by loving transitions of the heart, only to be followed by more fire. All necessary. Part and parcel for three generations under one roof. And probably long overdue.  I'm happy and proud to report they've moved on to a home of their own ... new commitments, new adventures. I still haven't washed the lipstick marks from the mirrors.

Now there are only the ghosts of Bloggingham... and me.

While I love them and will miss them, I'm rediscovering what it means to be truly finally retired and free.My life has been on pause for a few years. Lately I've been to a couple of lunch meets with old friends and colleagues, bought a new dress for Friday night tip-toeing into a nightclub (if I remember how to walk in heels), found a new Farmer's Market and stocked the freezer with healthy foods. 
And the music? UP. LOUD.
Sleeping?IN
Clothes and shoes?FLUNG OFF(did I say that??)
Mostly, I appreciate and value my independence. I don't think I'll take for granted, again, any little thing in my home.  Did I fully appreciate my space before? NO. Did I remember to stop and be grateful for pine cabinets, wood floors, porches and tire swings? Not always. 
I'd almost forgotten what it meant to hear silence.
 I have learned to be thankful for the smallest of things: the forks and spoons I now wash in the quiet of morning, the sound of a perking coffee pot, the sight of birds making new nests under inconvenient eaves and dust...even dust...because I get to do a big spring clean and spruce my home new into what I want it to be just for me again. I feel like I walked into a brand new house.
I need rugs. And lamps. And art on the walls.I'm throwing out carloads of accumulated junk from attic to basement.VERY liberating.
 I've lived alone for the past twenty-one years! Having others here for so long was an intense experience for me. I like my own company. I like my own space. I like my own routines. And let's face it, I drive people crazy!!!(Just ask them!) Hush Homer..
Someone said to me the other day during one of our post-pandemic marathon phone calls, "You never apologize.""Excuse me?" popped right out of the snarly mouth of mine. "I don't apologize??""You're the most unapologetic person I've ever known," he said. "You don't explain yourself. You're just who you are all the time. I admire that about you.You don't care what anybody thinks....I pay attention."
I appreciated the insight but me thinks I need to do some serious tweaking on this codependent thing and learn what boundaries I'm sabotaging for mySELF that causes me pain and stunts my personal growth. Inner Truth time. 
So this time in Act 3 of my lifeit feels like starting overfrom scratchlike flour and dough-making scratch  mixing mud in a wild strawberry mud-pie scratchmaking love in a cold backseat scratchmoving off to college starting overscratchlyrics and crazy chordsout of thin air scratch
staying home BEING
88 keys of blank pagesjust waiting for meand my time

That's what musicians do. That's what writers do.That's what I do.No apologies.


Follow Me

Join us for Blog4Peace Nov 4

Like Our Facebook Page

Peace Store