New Start Blog
16 March 2012
Well it’s not quite a whole year since I have blogged! Just two-thirds of one! My last was in July. I was planning on blogging a little more consistently really did think about blogging, but I guess I was working hard to pull myself out of the doldrums I’ve been in since I lost my job, my dogs, my sister and my health way back in the last quarter of 2007.
Today, seeing it said on screen in black and white makes me have a much better appreciation of that 90 day “war” that more or less paralyzed me.
The war was the beginning of a lot of firsts for me: first time I’d been on unemployment being the real revelation. I was much vested in being a productive working woman, one with a talent: Fraud Investigator and it became my identity. I worked over 30 years in an industry that valued my abilities, hired me specifically for them and then one day no longer wanted my services.
A few years later I saw clearly why. My employer had gone to the dark side, dealing in fraud, not trying to avoid it. When I first sensed the turn, my weight started to layer: hired for one thing then beat up over it.
Then the other grieving didn’t help much. Treatment for my back injuries caused me to gain more weight and created a moon face, someone I didn’t recognize represented me for several years.
My 401k lost about 30% during the Bush Years, which I call the Zips due to the many Zeros involved; and, undiagnosed physical disabilities surfaced big time. I dissolved my small business I created because I never was sure when I could meet a commitment or not. I really took a dive, figuratively as well as physically.
Looking back it appears my brain and body provided some real down time for me. One always gets what one needs whether it is wanted or not.
Last year when I dropped the business, the remaining “wraparound” months of depression, accidents and lethargy served in re-energizing me by preventing me from much activity!
It didn’t seem like I was doing anything at all, but I’m sure seeing results -the best of which is a rather dramatic weight loss. I’m thinking the weight is sliding off because my emotional/physical balance which had been so out of whack became balanced. It took about ten years to pack my weight on and so far just months to slip down a couple of sizes. You are what you eat they used to say. For me I am "when" I eat – which requires grazing, not hard to do if one keeps handfuls of nuts and fruits (yep I’m 5th generation Californian) and tread lightly at the Wine Bar. I’m sure it will be enhanced now with some regular home exercises.
I’m expecting I can go back to walks long enough to tire my Border collie. After all, I’m approaching my Third Act, as Jane Fonda calls it. Like Jane, I’m working on my own memoirs. I come from a shattered background, but I never knew much about my parent’s lives as neither liked to discuss the subject; maybe I was too young to inquire.
So I was born in a dark room that got darker with each passing of my immediate birth family. Nobody lived as long as I have so far, not even my brother Bill, who was eighteen months older then me. I used to think I would write The Great American Memoir about my life after everyone died. The title I selected was to have been Now That They’re All Dead.
Well, they are all dead, having been for 15 years now. And happily I am finding that all are not dead! Not everybody!! No, I am surrounded by cousins I never new I had; and one, Mom’s sister’s son, who I recall vaguely from my toddler days. He laughed when I said all I remember was his trousers, his looong trousers with his pin-head on top. I couldn’t have been older than two or three, and he was a teenager.
I remember a number of people this way from the toddler days, especially my mother’s mother “Nana”. She was so mean that I made it my business to avoid her at all times. She was a grey haired troll with a tiny head perched above enormous bosoms. She might twist my cheek if I got close enough. Later on I hated Nana because she always made my mother cry. A half century later I learned why she made her cry: it is the adage of the scorpion.
I decided to try an online genealogical site offering free trial for two weeks. I have now been on it for nearly two years and am amazed at the story unfolding about grandparents I never knew I had and their parents – all emigrated as colonists! I doubt that either of my parents knew anything about that.
And research indicates that a big “Booga-Booga” that affected my parents and their families at the turn of the 19th Century: two scandalous divorces, several abandoned children, a riffraff of step parents and half-brothers, an unknown adoption, and finally, my mother’s kidnapping by her natural father.
I now have a great respect for the difficult upbringing my mother gave me: she created a survivor, because she didn’t know what the hell to do with children. I only wish she could know that I not only was going to be okay, I would be successful, well travelled, and resilient, even into my own Third Act!
Every day I am writing about 3,000 words and am seriously pursuing my dream of writing. A memoir for sure, but I think instead it will be called Living an Unremembered Life. That will cover their past histories coupled with my own experiences in dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
It may not sound like much of a happy note I’m ending this on, but believe me, it feels like one.