Like a Lady

Act like a lady.  Watch yourself young lady.  A lady always wears gloves.  Be a lady at your aunt’s house.  Lady, lady, lady.  I heard this as a child until I felt like some very unladylike behavior.  To begin with I am not and was not ever a lady.  Lady is a term belonging to aristocracy.  It’s a class thing indicating having been high born and part of the upper class.  In England I would not have been addressed as Lady Nita.  I probably would not even have been called maam.  Probably more likely just Nita or “hey, you”.

So all this early training to be a lady was a waste of time to begin with since I was born to awesome, brilliant, kind and generous working people.  Not a lady in the bunch, but some fantastic women, and men, from whom I learned how to be a real person, not some fake lady creature who always wore gloves and spoke softly.

I learned to be a woman.  A lady needs to be waited on, coddled. A woman can do it herself but doesn’t have to do it to prove a point.  She just does what is needed.  A real, strong, confident woman makes a great friend, wife, mother, co-worker and citizen. She can be a CEO, president, truck driver, teacher, janitor, homemaker, and be okay with her choice.  She can make her own living, mother her children, participate in her community and care for her friends all by herself, or she can share all that with a real, confident partner.

I don’t even want to be a lady.  Probably couldn’t really try.  I do a lot of things that would not be considered ladylike by those well intended souls trying to mold me as a child.  I swear, a lot.  I pull on a cap and my coat over my pajamas to run to the grocery.  I drink hard liquor and sometimes put my elbows on the table.  I have been known to ask a man to dance and I don’t hesitate to point out asinine behavior if need be.  But don’t be mislead, I am not a slug, just independent.  I neither belch or fart in company.  I wait my turn and open doors for old people.

Soon I will have a great granddaughter.  You won’t hear me telling her to be a lady.  In the first place it is for her mother and father to be first in line to instruct her.  My hope is that she will see me as a force, a presence worth knowing, maybe even an example.  I will do my best to present to her a person who is strong and gentle, smart and caring, fun and loving.  And, a woman.  A real, whole woman.

Like a Lady

Still Toddling Along

I think I may sleep well tonight.  That is not ordinarily the case for me these last few months, but I am feeling sleepy.  Probably a long walk in the sunshine today and dinner with friends that included an adult beverage followed by just a bit more alcohol when I got back home all have something to do with this drowsiness.

I have been told that I am a goal oriented person more than once.  That is probably true.  I know that I function better with something to reach for; with a particular result in mind.  For a few weeks I have been working toward socializing with old friends and going to functions where I might meet new, interesting people.  Tonight was a step toward that goal and I enjoyed myself.  Saturday was a little harder when I attended an event where no one knew me and I had to make casual conversation with strangers.  But, I managed to meet women that I may want to get to know better.  One more step down the road.

A few weeks after my daughter died I got involved in a grief support group.  There were a lot of caring people there, all trying to help each other and all much more able to understand how I felt than well meaning friends who have not been there themselves.  Even though I felt welcomed and other experiences were much like my own I had to step away after a few sessions.  There two problems for me.  One is almost every person who lost a child kept saying it never gets better; that the pain is just as bad years later as the first day.  That is not my experience, at least not most of the time.  The other is that every other person there firmly believes that the person they lost is waiting for them in heaven.  No doubt, no exceptions.  I cannot wrap my head around believing that those who are gone are just waiting in a paradise somewhere and debilitating emotional pain and grief both residing in the same mind.  IF you believe your loved one is happily waiting for you in another world why are you always sad and in pain?  That makes no sense.

So. apparently I have to do this grief thing the same as I do most things, my way.  My way is to stay busy.  Not just killing time busy but getting involved, finding something to do that helps somebody, that makes a difference in some small way.  After all, I still have people to not just care for but to take care of.

Last Sunday I helped with a baby shower for my granddaughter who expects her first baby in May.  Helping Brittany get ready for her baby both gives me great joy and brings me to tears at the same time.  Curtis is a man now and values his independence, but He still calls on Granny now and then.  Like when our favorite big black dog needs to get to the vet when Curtis has to work.  And Jerry.  My husband needs support from me as much as I need it from him.  While neither of us resents it at all, looking after his mother is a job, so I help as much as I can.  Wow, no wonder I stay so busy.

Distance means I don’t get to do much hands on with my son’s family but have to settle for phone calls and social media visits.  Even so we plan awesome vacations together and that makes life better for all of us.

Still Toddling Along