• Yesterday the return of a Presidential Fitness Test was announced. I vividly remember the trauma of that process and failed miserable. It actually does not accomplish anything for the children that are subjected to this. Maybe we should initiate some tools to better prepare them for real life:

    Daily physical activities-that cannot be traded out for alternatives

    How to read a food label/meal plan/grocery shop healthy

    How to maintain a healthy brain and relationships

    How to manage finances/how credit/debt actually works

    How to fill out a job application

    Simple household management

    How to buy a car & Simple auto maintenance

    Where there are so many areas we are lacking in preparing our youth, this is not the area we need to promote even more body shaming.

  • Why do I write? I keep asking myself that question. It’s not that I forget the answer, but each time I ask, I find even more reasons. So let’s start with this one: I don’t want to forget how good life has been, is now, and will be in the years ahead. I am certain none of us would have a problem naming that one person, or maybe even more, who has had a change in their mental status—little changes, or maybe big and life-changing ones. It’s at that moment that I begin to panic and hyperventilate. WHAT IF IT HAPPENS TO ME? I have always prided myself on my memory, resourcefulness, and ability to pay attention to detail.

    Even now, as I look through old picture albums, I remind family and myself of all the fun things we have done through the years. Those beautiful memories stored in the back of our minds and hearts. We often hear people say how important it is to “live in the moment,” but what if your moment is trying to remember how wonderful life has treated us?

    I have never been in therapy, but have heard so much about the importance of journaling. Friends have shared how therapeutic it can be. I guess one reason I hesitate to journal is that someday I will not be here, and do I really want my loved ones looking through pages of my deepest thoughts? Or even worse, will they end up with the piles of nameless photographs and bronze baby shoes that break my heart when I visit antique stores?

    Lastly, some of my writings have been called funny, heartfelt, and even helpful. Isn’t it nice to see that others share some of the same fears or feelings as we do?

  • I originally had a much different subject to write about tonight but after a weird and “sad-for-me” afternoon I decided I needed to get this off my mind tonight.

    After recent media attention on the importance of having access to ones official birth certificate, I decided to pull ours out to confirm the required state seal. As the five of my siblings moved out we were each given our birth certificates, a recipe card with all of our major illnesses and inoculations, and so much more of our childhood paperwork. One of the treasures I had was 12 years worth of report cards. I am certain over the years I have glanced at them but today I realized a few things that have left me feeling unsettled.

    I do remember failing the Presidential Fitness Test. I was only able to complete two sit-ups in the one minute allotted and those were done with some cheating. Then there was the vision test where you signaled when you saw the red and yellow ball clearly in the vision screen and apparently in the 6th grade they also documented our height and weight. At 12 yrs old I was 56 1/2″ and weighed 60 lbs. Whaaaaaat happened to that trim svelte body? All kidding aside as per Dr. Google I should have weighed about 20 lbs. more. Now….I am an over achiever.

    I always thought I was an A/B student. I did very well in my adult life, having two successful careers, first as a preschool teacher for 17 years and then managing a very large volunteer program for 25 years. People have always looked to me for assistance and often comment how resourceful and knowledgeable I am. SO I guess in my mind I was a glowing student in my earlier days. It’s not that I failed but I did have my share of C’s and there were a few D’s and one F. I will say that there was a definite improvement when we moved from the north to the south in my 10th year. (even now the South seems to have a much lower educational standards than the North)

    The next thing I noticed was the large amount of missed days I had. This was consistent for most of my school years. In my earlier years several teachers even made reference to frequent absences. I do remember being teased in school and I wasn’t part of the popular group by any means. That is a pattern that has followed me through my life. I have to wonder if that was a reason for me missing so much school, I guess I blocked that part out of my memory.

    As a former teacher I completed hundred’s of evaluations for young children and then in my second career for senior volunteers. I always made it a point to provide honest feedback but always ending with at least one positive comment. I can’t stop reading my 6th grade teachers Report Card Remarks. She starts by mistakenly using “effects” instead of “affects”. Then she only provides negative feedback and to add insult to injury she even spelled my name wrong. This one really stings………

  • I hate taking showers. It sounds odd, so let me clarify. I’m a very clean person, and my arthritic body certainly feels better after a nice hot shower. Physically, it’s a relief, but mentally? By the time I get to the fluffy towel, I’m utterly spent. It’s ironic, because my showers are often where I come up with some of my best ideas, and I’ve even solved some of my biggest cases. (Oh wait, that’s another story for another time – if you’re curious, jump on over to my other page, TheReSearchAngel.com). But does anyone else spend their shower time revisiting every disturbing thought they’ve had today, yesterday, or even ten years ago? Asking ‘Alexa’ to play some of my favorite tunes doesn’t make it any better, because every f***ing song is tied to a memory, a direct ticket back onto that anxiety-driven hamster wheel that just won’t stop. So, I switch to NPR News for a quick update. Blah blah blah, and then I hear China says it will not do anymore up until the end. END? End of what? OMG, here I go again.

  • Confession time: I’ve been contemplating starting a blog for years. If I had a dollar for every time the thought crossed my mind, I’d probably be retired already (and certainly not checking my savings tonight!). Life, with its endless demands and distractions, always seemed to offer a perfectly valid excuse for putting it off. But here’s the thing: life isn’t going to magically get simpler. So, it’s now or never. And honestly, who am I to think anyone will actually read this, let alone comment? (If you’ve made it this far, please do prove me wrong!)

    Originally, this blog was going to be my personal journal for mental well-being. Then, it morphed into a dedicated countdown to my retirement – just six short years away! Of course, there was the ‘life hacks’ phase (because who doesn’t need more tips on organizing your junk drawers). And we certainly can’t forget the idea of a place for all those stories – funny, bizarre, or inspirational – that were simply too long for Facebook.

    Well, guess what? You’re going to be stuck with all of the above. And lucky you, it won’t be in any organized, thematic manner. (Let’s be real, planning that would just delay starting by another few months!)

    So, let’s kick things off with how I decided on the title for this little corner of the internet. I’m one of those people who watched The Wizard of Oz more times than I can count. That magical movie, along with The Donna Reed ShowLeave it to Beaver, and those Fun with Dick and Jane books, painted a very specific vision of my adult future. A picture that over-promised and severely under-delivered.

    Now, don’t get me wrong, I LOOOOOVE my husband and family. But it wasn’t until I hit my twenties that I realized they were feeding us a whole lot of… well, you know. I genuinely believed that if I just followed all the rules and did everything I was ‘supposed to,’ I’d live happily ever after, just like those fictional characters. Instead, I’m a very complicated, unique, sometimes insecure, perpetually-worrying, anxiety-prone, 68-year-old middle-class woman (at least until I check our retirement savings tonight!). And honestly, I don’t see that changing much.

    But perhaps we can make this journey a little easier, and certainly more entertaining, with a few laughs along the way. So, are you in?