Lucky Lady

That's what everyone called her.

Today she would have turned 76..... and had I known then what I know now she would have had the biggest, brightest, lovliest, party EVER!

Cancer has no bias. It even takes Grandma's when those who love them most aren't ready to let them go.

I know you can't hear me Grandma because you are singing and worshipping Jesus along with all of the Saints at the very tip top of your precious "healed" lungs...

BUT

if you could ...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! You are still so loved... and until I take my very last breath you always will be.

I Heart Her

Be anxious for nothing.........

So, last week, I had a work-related thing. I mean, I can’t say anything else, really, because as much as I’d like to post about work and could have a whole blog dedicated to the funny, creative and weird things my co-workers say to me, I just don’t because I really, really love what I do. But suffice it to say that this thing caused me a lot of anxiety.

You get the picture.

And then? During the point when this thing would have caused an issue? Nothing happened.

I spent approximately 48 hours worrying about something that never materialized. I’d played out a million stories in my mind about all of the bad things that were sure to happen, and then none of them did.

If only this was an isolated incident. IF ONLY.

I spend HOURS imagining the worst things. Some perceived weirdness from my sister, in my crazy, twisted mind, becomes The Fight That Ends Our "Sister-ship" (Is that a word???).

Unreturned texts mean That Person Hates You (Although, come on, people:  return a text message. It takes 10 seconds. Don’t be a jerk.) and I spend hours stressing away wondering what I did wrong?????

I think I’d rather have the super power of flying or mind-reading. Just saying........

Anyways, this whole work thing made me stop and ask: WHY, MEGAN, WHY?

Why do you torture yourself? Why do you get riled up about things that don’t happen yet? I mean, the short answer is this: I have anxiety disorder and also a touch  of the family crazies. But I also know that when I really think about things, I can control how upset I get.... yet off I go.

 I’m a worrier. I come from a long line of Professional Worrywarts and resolving to become one of those “happy go lucky” people is just not working for me.  However, my new goal is to just wait, and then react and worry and fret when whatever...... ACTUALLY HAPPENS.

I know that half of the worrying game is inventing terrible stories in our minds, but I have enough real things to worry about.

 But inventing things that aren’t real yet? I can probably take a break.

Birthdays Schmirthdays!

Here’s my favorite quote on the subject, written by Robert Heinlein in  Stranger in a Strange Land:

"Anyone can see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl she used to be. A great artist can look at an old woman, portray her exactly as she is...and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be...more than that, he can make anyone see that this lovely young girl is still alive, prisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart...no matter what the merciless hours have done.


 Yeah.... so bring it on 33 you old hag you!

Enough Said

Memories have shaped me

When I was a little girl, my mom would drop me off at preschool very early in the morning. She would walk me into my classroom, kiss me goodbye and then I would run to one of two windows to wave goodbye to her as she drove away. The deal was that she’d stop the car, wave and blow me a kiss at the first window and then I’d move to the second one, where she’d repeat the ritual before driving out of the parking lot to work. I think she may have forgot exactly once. But she always remembered, put her car into reverse and drove through again, to wave to little Megan. While I remember the uncertainty in those moments, what I remember more is that she always came back. She always came back.

I have friends who tease me about my need to say a proper goodbye or the way I like to straighten my desk before I leave for the day. But it’s these little things that make me feel good, that assure me that even though I can’t control the next moments, I’ve made things okay in a tiny way. I realize this is an odd quirk. Oh well. Maybe it’s a morbid way to live, but I spend a lot of time thinking about the just in case. I like feeling like loose ends are tied up, like all is well. And while I know that life can never be fully planned and that try as I might, I cannot anticipate everything, I like to feel like I’ve done my best to set things right whenever possible.

At the end of the day, it boils down to this: I worry sometimes that the people who fill my everyday, the ones whose bodies fill my house, names litter my inbox and text messages, the family and  friends I call when I’m happy or sad or just want to shoot the breeze, don’t realize how much I treasure them. It’s sometimes difficult to say those things but the truth is that I think it all the time. The words catch in my throat and I’m quick with a joke, but I try to say it wordlessly when I turn back for a second hug, inhale their smell when we part ways. It’s just my way of waving through those two windows, the way one of the women I love the most always did for me.