"Total Eclipse of the...."

I use this photo solely to communicate a line I am cracking up at, from a video you may watch below for your pleasure!  I do so because pictures always make posts more enjoyable, and this was a "bright eye" day for me as I am in the process of "turning around"!  Nothing in that statement was related to abstract thought, just look at my bright eyes turning around to see what's behind me--purely concrete writing there!

With that said, never, ever, underestimate the power of good friends and the sense of humor we all have access to when our lives are in a total eclipse! (Now that was abstract!)  Yes, even the darkest part of that eclipse can include humor, laughter, and smiles.  

(I also find this important enough to document, for memories of the smiles through the storms.  I am only able to do it by tapping each letter out with a phone. I'd much rather use a computer, believe me, but writing in some way is better than none at all.)

My friend, her name is Rachel, and she is a must have friend in life.  I don't think she would even mind that I used her full name, because she's just that friendly, but we will call her Rachel for now.  She has been influential in my life for many reasons.  She was always good, always kind, and never too serious that a hard day couldn't be soothed with a funny 80's tune, a Richard Simmons work out preview (by her of course), or a good old treat (recently it was orange cream cake)!   Everyone needs a friend like Rachel.  Little does she know, I happen to have an ear for many tunes that play in the most unexpected places, at the most unexpected times, and I break out in a lip syncing performance for many, or as many who will watch, to enjoy.  I'm okay with the fact that most people look away, but if you get me one on one, you'll hear the tune from my own voice, watch the scary dance moves, and life will feel light for just a moment....or few.  

Rachel posted the few lines of a song as her status on FB yesterday, "turn around bright eyes"!  I immediately knew what it was about, the "total eclipse"!  You have to be educated in "important" matters, like 80's music, to understand Rachel's awesome sense of humor...the song is called "total eclipse of the heart"!  While the blood moon was indeed a total eclipse this evening, it was not of the heart.  Well, for some it may have been.  I find it ironic what I experienced today before "happenstancing" upon the eclipse this evening.  Life is full of challenges, and my one VERY serious comment in this post will be here: do not for an instant believe that lives are happy and fine because there are smiles, good fb posts, and no word of trouble.  People everywhere are hurting for many reasons, myself included.  Let's be receptive and help each other through these "dark" phases so we can make it through to see the light hinting a glimmer of hope again. Not only did Rachel perfect my funny incident this evening by a simple fb post, she complimented me on a very hard day.  She knew nothing of my trial, but she spoke a word of kindness, and it made all the difference.   So, as I browsed posts about the eclipse I found nothing similar to my experience tonight.  I thought I would combine my two scary stories here!

I found myself alone on the reservation tonight before coming to work.  As I stopped my car along the side of the road at the back of a dark and desolate gas station, to take pictures of the eclipse of course, I found that I was rather quickly, not alone.  A car came speeding around the opposite side of the lot towards me.  It was small, dark, and held an older petite framed Native American  woman.  She was insisting that she deliver a message to me immediately, as was evidenced by her rapid and fearful tone of speech.  She looked opposite from where I did, as I stared at the blood red moon, and she shielded her eyes in fear, "shouspering" (the mix between a shout and a whisper),  in pressured fear, "You're not supposed to look.  You're not supposed to look!"  

I smiled, was my kind naive self, and said, "Oh I didn't know that!"

She continued, "No, you are not supposed to look, it's not good, it's a rebir---" She then paused suddenly and shielded her face more as the word "rebirth" stopped, mid vocalization.    

I asked in innocence, "What does it mean if I look?"

She looked at me as though I had gone too far, then sealed our conversation with, "I can't speak about it.  We Natives cannot speak about it. Don't look," and she drove speedily away. 

I was in the pitch dark lot, taking pictures of a blood red moon when I was summoned to fear by a story I don't know about--ummm, I actually got scared!!!!

Note: I respect and admire all cultures and belief systems, and I am only uneducated as to what she was referring to.  I happen to respect her beliefs and say nothing of what should or shouldn't be done in this situation.  

For me, I looked.  I thought, "hmmm, I wonder if I should just turn around..."  But, I continued taking pictures and admiring what I see as God's almighty beauty.  

When I logged on fb and saw Rachel's post, "Turn around bright eyes," I giggled.  This bright eyed girl, me of course, did not turn around.  

The post took me back into the lyrics, and my mind swayed with the ballad. The guys voice is singing the turn around phrases while Bonnie Tyler sings her pleas of "every now and thens".   And it goes....."Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you never come around.  Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears.  (Higher now) Turn around.  Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by. (Me too girl!)  Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes.  Turn around bright eyes!!!!  Every now and then I fall apart. Turn around bright eyes!!!  Every now and then I fall apart...."  It gets better, I promise.  

To listen and watch this comically scary video that is sure to make you laugh, just click below.  I'm certain you need the humor as much as I do.  Oh dear 80's, how you tried to get it right!  You could have used a different sense of "bright eyes", like mine maybe?  And those scenes, whoa, whose idea was that?

http://youtu.be/lcOxhH8N3Bo

In memory of this blood red moon, this total eclipse, I leave you a pitiful phone pic of mine documenting this event....

And I say to all those hearts that are eclipsing, or coming out of the eclipse, sweet dreams.  May tomorrow's light shine through.  

I will stay up, tending to my duties as a nurse.  

But you, sleep.... 😉

Home

I had a dream last night...
Well, my son would stop me and tell me, "Mom, you had two dreams last night remember?"
He would be, and is usually always, right!  My dream about him was in regards to a book we just got for the kindle that he needs to have read and done a book report on by Next Wednesday.  We spent three weeks brainstorming what person he would write a book report on for the American Revolution.  Yes, three weeks of procrastination  brainstorming....just to come up with....Paul Revere!  Connor was notably stressed about the book report on Wednesday, so I pulled out my phone and told myself that the first name which comes to my mind is the person it will be....and then I searched for a book about Paul Revere!  I found a book that is, I believe, 105 pages.  I looked at him, gave him knuckles, did my sly eyed, "we're good" look, and I told him, "anything you and I have to tackle, we will tackle it together and make sure it gets done!"  In my dream last night, I walked into his room and saw him reading the book.  I smiled and asked him what page he was on.  He grinned his grin of "awesomeness" and told me that he was on page 104.  It was at this point in the dream that I realized the book was 105 pages, or I think it is, because I said, "Wow, the book is only 105 pages...you read 104 of 105 pages in a day!!!"

Tonight, my son told me that he just may make my dream come true...

The other son came into my room on 4 separate occasions to give me pictures of a "mad scientist", "mad man mustard", "disco dancing alien", and all the creations of his 10 year old mind which I am gladly placing in a book to haunt him with one day!

My first dream last night did not have the humor I just made you giggle with....it was on the more serious side, the side I have been on lately.

I was in my sisters home.  I had just waken from a night of very well rested sleep, walked down through her narrow staircase.  The house was empty, all except for us two, as it had felt on the last day of my stay in her home.  I sat at her dinning room table across from her, had a prepared cup of hot tea that I sipped from, and I just sat...happy as ever...in her presence.  I felt the peace I had been longing for all week long in this dream.  It almost felt like the Lord gave me a break from the days of sadness and grief I had been feeling here, along with the nights of dreaded fearful dreams.  She looked back at me, and in such a surreal sense, it felt like heaven was meeting earth.  We didn't say a word, but just through looking into her eyes, I felt like she understood all I had been feeling lately; I felt that I had been understood in the pain that has been my companion for the course of this week.  I didn't have to vocalize a single sorrow and allow another tear to fall down my face, because the necessity of feeling understood in my darkest hours was there, though I still can't say I feel anyone comes close to understanding me in my honest, tangible, wakeful life.  The feeling which immediately followed was "you're okay, and there is no reason to feel pain, misperception, and heartache".  I sat in my pajamas, my cotton robe warming my body, the tea warming my little nose as the steam drifted up from the cup that hoovered in front of my face, and the presence of my twin sister warming, understanding, and loving my soul.  The wooden floors, sunlight dining room, and tranquility made me feel like I was home.

I recently took a trip to her home in PA; it was the first time in my life that I have had the ability and courage to do something this monumental for myself.  (Yes, when you are a young mother to four children who depend on you for their very existence, this is a very courageous move.  When you have never thought to do something for yourself in the years you have been a mother--12--this is a move that looks more like a leap than a step.)

Her home brings memories to me of my Great Grandma Maymie.  There is just something there that is almost tranquilizing.  I slept better there, I relaxed better...or in all honesty, I actually did relax!  I found myself laughing and smiling my days away, and even falling asleep randomly--in part because I was sick with a respiratory bug, and in part because it was just too easy to take care of myself.

I tried to take pictures to document every step pf my journey, and I will gladly post the funny, sad, and in between.  For now, I post the ones that give me glimpses into her home--the one I woke longing for when my eyes opened this morning.

The walls all have the beautiful chair molding around the bottom third of the walls, creating an old Victorian style we have all but forgotten in out advancements with the new age sophistication.  She decorates in a very simple fashion.  Her curtains are hand made by her, a professionally taught curtain maker (if that's what they are called). They are a white background with a black damask print.  Actually, if you pull elements of my home into hers, you can see we are indeed twins.  I have cream colored canvas totes with a dark grey damask upon them.  They are a perfect match for her style.  

The bathrooms are old and quaint with their small mint colored tiles, the color everyone craves these days.  The stand alone sink and medicine cabinets are reminders of a smaller, simpler life.

You can see the damask curtains here...and the quilt I had helped her create years ago.  I love the colors she chose for her quilt.  The one I did was blues with blacks and browns and it was given as a gift--I always thought hers was better!

Here, you can see the light...the beautiful natural light that creates natural warmth and peace.

Here is a glimpse of the far wall of the dining room I entered upon walking downstairs in my dream.  The quilt on the piano  bench was one I made Sara a decade ago--for our 25th Birthday.

And this is the wall that would stand off to my right upon entering the room.  This was a special experience for me in my stay at Sara's home.

Can you see why this was the perfect place for me to sit in her home?  The peace, the hope, and the light--which allows all truth to be seen clearly--is reflected here.  I spent a week there over the course of our Birthday, and last night I was ever so lucky to be there once more.  

Heaven

I went to bed last night far before anyone else did in my home.  It's the easiest way to make time pass.  I woke this morning and found myself trying to recall things from the very recent past, within the last 3 years, that I couldn't recall.  I had a conversation with Connor that went much like this:

Me: I use to drive this route to school for you and Aiden almost every day. (as we were in the car on the way to school)

Connor: (nods head--much like a teenager does!)

Me: Wait....I did use to drive you to this school right? (He has attended 7 different schools now, not including home school)

Connor: (nods head)

Me: No, you use to ride the bus.  Connor, when we moved into this house, didn't you ride the bus?

Connor: (nods head...absent mindedly???)

Me: Oh Connor, I can't remember if I drove you or if you rode the bus, but I'm pretty sure this route looks familiar...but I also remember you riding the bus.  I don't know....

In the end, I believe we did both...if my memory serves me right.  I believe I drove them to school their first year there, and I think they rode the bus their second year there.  Good thing they only went there 2 years, because a third year would make me insane if I tried to recall it all!

I pulled out a scrapbook that only has three pages done in it so far after I got home from taking Connor to school.  Looks like I have been having memory problems longer than I realize.  (I guess memory problems become something we can't place a date and time on, because we can't remember!) First of all, there are only 3 pages done because every time I tried to start scrap-booking, I stopped.  Nothing was good enough for me.  I wanted the book to be perfect, because my son, who I only had for 4 months, was perfect.  I didn't want a single flaw to adorn these pages...and in not wanting it to be flawed, I ended up never really finishing it.  I hope to someday.  Upon inspection, I saw that there was one major flaw....Shane wasn't born on the 4th of December.  Well, after I looked at it today, I thought, "Wait, was he born on the 4th?" and I almost texted somebody to find out.  I'm going to stick with my instinct on this one because I don't want to sound like an idiot to anyone, and I'm going to say he was DUE on the 4th, but he was born on the 2nd of December.  This sound right...to anyone who still believes in reading blogs...and who would know?

Heaven help me, my memory is going.....

It is all too fitting though, that I even pulled this book out.  I hadn't forgotten about these three pages, but I was thinking of putting my letters from my children into a book, and I pulled this one down, knowing it only had a few pages started anyhow.  When I opened it. I couldn't find it in me to use this particular book for anything but Shane.  It reminded me of what came to me as I slept the 13.5 hours I did last night.  Ridiculous huh?  I'm really not liking life lately.

I held a little baby boy in this dream.  Actually, I was left in a place where I didn't feel that I would have  a place to reside.  I didn't have much, nor need much.  I had a little baby boy, and he was so new.  I needed a place for me and him to stay.  A father figure and his family said they had space in their home for me.  I felt bad, but I also felt that it was the right thing to do.  I have always taken care of myself, and now I was in a position to rely on this man and his family to care for me, as I cared for...and did the critical task of raising my little boy.  I recall the father in this family being very stout in figure, very protective you could say.  The mother was nurturing, as the first thing she did when we entered their home was go to a room upstairs to prepare a comfortable place for me and my son.  I was in a beautiful room; there was a twin size bed against a wall in the room that looks much like I would have a room look like for a guest, cozily decorated with a colorful hand stitched quilt.  At the foot of the bed, there was a place for my little son to lay and sleep, as I slept with him...just above him.  I remember holding him, feeding him, and placing him down in the cradle at my feet to sleep. He looked exactly like the image I have of Shane above.

Interestingly enough, when I enter my final rest for the space of time upon this earth, I will lay in a place within the cemetery where Shane already lays...and he will be at my feet.  That bed waits for me.  I'd be lying if I didn't say it didn't sound appealing at this phase in life.

As I always do, I woke this morning and left that dream to the stirrings of my mind.  All I could say when I rose was that it felt as though I was in Heaven last night...holding him, feeding him, and knowing he was with me still...waiting for me.

Mum

Dear Self--

Of my said incident which took place in the wee hours of Monday morning, literally taking all of the very little energy I was reserving to start the week, and swallowing it whole....it is time to move on.  How many times do I have to tell you that?  In every circumstance or position you may be in, you have to move on when unintending  sources attack.

Yes, when your good intentions are seen as flaws, you should move on.
When your flaws are seen as mountains, and proclaimed on the mountain tops (or behind closed doors where you can hear the whispers), you must move on.
When you are sick...again...and all you can do is grind your teeth and get through another fever, another ache, and another day, you have to move on.
When you think not for what someone else does with their lives because you are so consumed with trying to fix all the crap holes you created in your own life, but your crap holes look more interesting to talk about to the world than theirs...yes, I guess it's still time to move on.

But what about the times when you can hardly look a person in the eye for fear they are going to ask you that question no one really wants to know the answer to anyhow?  You know, the three worded reflex we have when people come around--"How are you?"  Be honest, you start to cringe because if the honest you was answering that question, you would be stuck in a three hour therapy session about how well you are NOT!

And what about the moment you wake, and it's been the 4th day in a row now that you wake and can hardly keep the tears from drenching your face because....here we go again.  The trials are still there, working away in the very front of your mind trying to make you believe you are the real problem in your life, and if you went away, it would all be okay.

What if you walk around the house doing the basics to survive...another lunch made, another dish washed, and another load of laundry sits waiting to be folded on the living room chair...and all you can think about is, SLEEP...one more hour, maybe even a full day, of sleep.  You count down the hours as though your home life is the most awful dreaded job you have been forcefully working for years.  This isn't my job though--this is my calling, the thing that once brought me an incredible amount of joy.  Yet, when sleep comes, the pain is gone, and so you count to those hours by the second at times.  Then you find yourself in that illusive state of being and of course, the nightmares invade that beloved dimension, and you wake every few hours wondering how to escape each hell you are oscillating between--life and the pseudo death we call sleep. Your nightmares most likely mimic things you have suffered through, or things that haunt you in "what if" scenarios every day.... and I guess mine do too--often, I am too late to save my child who has just fallen onto the tracks of a moving train and I am left screaming in agony, falling to my knees after I have sprinted to the very place she fell at.  Sometimes, I am alone, to travel on foot with the five children that I have born, alone, without food, money, or a place to lay our heads in the dreary hot desert--feeling hopeless.

And then, what if this nightmare of a life continued for months at a time. (Thankfully it doesn't.) What if you suddenly stop recognizing the beautiful confident person you stood in front of the mirror and groomed because she now looks like a train wreck from nights of tears...swelling eyes shut...to nights of wakefulness, creating lonely voids where the eyes of happiness and hope once resided.

Is is easy then to say....you must move on?  It's not easy, but indeed necessary.  

I walked through my home after becoming very ill on Saturday morning.  I had been working so hard in the last several weeks, filling shift after shift for the nurses who were on their nice long vacations--and trying to take care of myself, but that only goes so far when you are left to maintain school routines, meals, transportation, and so on.  My only night off between shift stretches was Friday, and fate would have me come down with a respiratory illness that has become common to my existence--unpleasant, but common.  On Saturday morning, I woke aspirating.  I had come close to aspirating many times after my long stretches without sleep, but I had always avoided that dreadful feeling of completely topping off your bronchi with fluid.  This time, I did it...the exhaustion was too much, the sickness was there already, and it happened....my entire airway filled with fluid that had crept up my esophagus, and the natural healthy reflexes we usually have to protect our airways came a little too late.  I found myself running to my bathroom to hack out my lungs, literally.  In the process, I gathered my nursing assessment bag and listened to my lungs and breath sounds...they were tight and there was awful raspy fluid that filled every exhale....the type I hear on some of my worst pneumonia or cystic fibrosis patients.  I knew I had done some damage, but I continued to cough until I was left with little energy, took cold medications, and retired to bed again.  I spent the entire day in bed.  I had made several attempts to get up, but my body felt like it was shutting down.  I slept through the entire day, woke feeling so delirious and confused, angry and frustrated all at once.  I didn't realize it until I got a shower before heading to work that I was in a full blown respiratory illness, aching body, chills to indicate a rising fever, and a lethargic feeling i haven't felt in years.  I laid in bed for a few final moments before going to work, and after walking to and fro where my children and husband were happy, laughing, and enjoying life, I literally felt that for the first time in my life I could disappear, and it wouldn't make a difference.  Honestly, I felt that if I were gone, everyone would be happier because they wouldn't have to deal with my draining presence,   I thought of how I could just leave...relieve them of the burden I feel I create at times through my trials.  This is called "life" and it's molding process, and this phase has been full of intense heat.  Don't worry, it comes to all of us who live a good number of years.  

But then...I had an image of how the happy family in the living room wouldn't be quite so happy anymore...because somewhere, even in the places nobody can see, I hold this little family together.  Even when I feel I am the explosion about to ruin it's existence, there always seems to be something that says "mom".

It's in these moments that I recall that after long months of suffering, I will have these smiles with the kids again....it is me who plans the dates and tells them of how amazing they are, even when I believe I am nothing but a failure.

Someday, very soon, I will gain the irresistible urge to sing to this little dude and make him grin like he is the center of my universe...because he is.

Someday, these girls will grab hold to me and try to look like me in every way, just to say that they too will be exactly like me one day...even though I desire them to be so much more.

But they still want to be me, in every sense possible.

And it is only this "Mum" who will be able to truly kneel at her sons grave and cry tears of grief that truly reflect a Mom's genuine loss...and as long as the Lord would have me do it, I am honored to do so.

Days like today are a dime a dozen, they come far too often and in ways I cannot even describe. Yet, days like those pictures above are worth waiting for...they are my pearls that will one day be strung into a necklace fit for a queen.  I just need to get to that day when it will be given to me.

Godspeed to all Mums wading through the pain.

To all sufferers of heartache and pain.

Therefore, to all.

Bullying at every age

There are days in life where I feel like no matter what happens, I can't be deterred from the path I'm on--the one that's full of doing all the good things I need to in order to raise a family up to God, the one that is very hard, but still full of far too much joy to allow anyone's criticisms to create a detour that distracts.  Truly, all that  critique from unknowing people do to us is distract; I call them "unknowing" because it's a kinder way to say ignorant--and ignorant sounds far too harsh for me.  I wish that phrase was easier to say, but when the critics are people who's critique you may respect, it hurts beyond the superficial layer of resilience.  It doesn't have to be that they have any large realm of influence over you, but the love you naturally have for them is such that you would never assume they had feelings towards you that were of any nature but good; after-all, your feelings for them have been kind and given them the benefit of the doubt.  We all deserve the benefit of the doubt.

I'll start by merely making mention of why this hurts even more than it could.  I will not give any name or hint to the nature of my relationship with anyone involved in this story, except to say that each person is someone I know or would love to know on a deeper level than I already do.  Each person holds a place of reverence in my heart, not only because of their natural relationship to me, but because when I choose to think about how I have made acquaintance with them, I have never chosen anything but seeing them for their good qualities.  I'd be stupid, by now, if I believed that same respect could be paid towards me, but it's that stupid naive nature I have that caused so much pain to be stirred in the wee hours of the morning, as I cared for my patient at work.

I have had few physical contacts with this person before, but every one I did, I enjoyed them.  There was always a desire within me to be noticeable to this person, and as hard as I tried, I think I was just made to look a fool.  Childlike adoration can do that to us, make us look like admiring fools.  I never sought myself to be a comparison to her, however, because within myself, I felt I was still worthy enough to be beautiful in my own regards.  The many adults who surrounded us at this time in my life, well, they seemed to favor this beautiful blossoming princess that I made no comparison to; still, I didn't really care...I honestly thought my time would come when I would be admired someday too.  In thus doing, I created a happiness for myself that wasn't there by another persons opinion of who I was, it was only there by my knowledge of who I believed I could be,  I wish I was still so young and innocently believing in that little girls potential.

Time passed, envy for this woman grew amongst others.  I saw it, heard it, and I even participated in some of the conversations at one time, but it never felt right--and so, I chose to not be a part of the green eyed monsters goal.  Jealousy tries relentlessly to capture us in a fit of "it's not fair", "I wish I had", and "but you don't" statements that only do one thing--destroy.  As quickly as I caught myself falling into that awful degrading behavior, I stopped.  What had this person ever done to me to be so deserving of such judgement and rebuke from my lips?  Nothing.

At work last night, I received a message from this person.  To my surprise there were statements of disappointment in something I had failed to do while I visited an area recently--it was something we all probably do to someone at one time or another, we fail to make contact, we fail to write that short note that could dispel people's worries that our failure to send that note was not about them in the end, but it was only about the situation and inability for connection on such shot notice.  Life is full of commitments, time restraints, energy drainers, and unpredictable happenings which keep all of us from our desired outcomes.  It is actually a normal part of existence, if you think about it.  We all have expectations of what life should look like, and then we have the reality of what life really does look like,  The gap between expectation and reality is called disappointment.  We are able to influence how big that gap is for us in our personal conduct and our personal goals that do not require another person for fulfillment, but we can never force or expect someone else to live up to the standards that prevent disappointment unless we are allowing our personal happiness to be swayed by another individual in the end.  Of course, there are times when it is necessary to hold others in your life to a standard of conduct.  Our spouses, children, employees--all of these people should know what their expectations for our healthy relationships should be.  When they don't reach those levels of conduct we desire, we can choose to be disappointed, or we can assess whether we have been too critical in our expectation of their action.  Even if we find that we haven't been too demanding, we can still choose to be disappointed to the point of it effecting us and causing resentment or we can choose to simply allow the consequences of unfulfilled expectations to be enacted; a decrease in trust, less happiness in the relationship, and a longer road to a trusting and fulfilling relationship for both people.

To continue, this message had a purpose, but I believe the purpose was dug too deep by the distracting feelings which caused the damage that created a very hard day for me.  The purpose was to let me know that my lack of action in sending a courtesy note to advise this woman that I wasn't going to see her in the course of my short trip was hurtful.  I can understand that.  That could've been communicated very kindly in a number of ways, and I am not ridiculous enough to assume that even a less than polite manner of addressing that topic would warrant hurt on my part.  Instead of stopping there, the message continued....

This is where the dagger of feeling misunderstood and misperceived dug into my heart, bypassing those superficial layers of my skin that can easily be healed.  It always hurts to know people think we are doing things wrong, but it kills me to know that people believe my character is flawed...while all along I have innocently believed the best of these people when others have torn them down.  To me, it is always right to assume the best of people until there is evidence that they truly have no good to give--until there is evidence, I believe people are just that, good.  Here is where the naive Crystal gets in the way--people don't believe the same things about me.

I was told that, from what she sees in me, I appear to have a desire for empathizing, nonjudgmental relationships, but I am only willing to reciprocate those relationships with my immediate family or members of my church.  I was left in shock as I read her words because I have such a deep love for many, a great tolerance for all faiths, and all I did that communicated "failure" was forget to send a note to say I wouldn't be able to see her...I never even gave her or anyone else the hope that I would be seeing them on this very short trip.

I can easily say that this is exactly what I described above--a persons choice to be disappointed in what she thought my actions should be.  She had every right to tell me how she felt, it is not her sorrow in not seeing me or not getting a note from me that hurts.  We all navigate, at times, with forgetful patterns and mindless mistakes.  I am okay with a criticism that tells me I am of the sort, and if it ended there, I would have very kindly apologized for being absent minded.   The greatest way we can hurt someone is by picking apart their character and judging them from afar, it is exactly what we are striving to teach our children not to do, it is bullying.   When we take to appease our sense of pain by tearing down another person's character, we have hurt a part of them that is very hard to repair, we have hurt their heart.

Today was hard.  I cried many tears and wished I could run away to a far corner of the world to be alone.  I still desire to do that.  Instead, however, I made lunches, brushed hair, chauffeured children, and in the quiet moments when I was alone, I cried.

Let's be less critical of people's character.  Let us resolve our differences, but in no way by belittling people with reflections of the type of people they appear to be in our narrow minded vision.  Let us all try to give each other the benefit of the doubt and take less offense to people's innocent actions, or inaction.  Hold back the character bashing and leave it to never be said or written--you never know when the person you are criticizing is moments away from feeling like their existence can end today...and it wouldn't make a difference.

Bullying is real.
Suicide is real.
At all ages, and in all forms--they are real.

Love is real, as well.
Choose love.