Golden Memories

 When I was between the ages of 8-10 (possibly younger) I would make little books for my dolls. I'd illustrate and color the inside. Before I had my big fancy dollhouse that my Mom commissioned specially for me, I would build dollhouses out of Golden Books. Rooms with doors and second floors. The Golden Book Dollhouse would take up the entire floor of my bedroom. I would leave it up for days since it took so long to build. Then, when it was time, I would meticulously dismantle it. With care. 

I miss that quiet play. The focus of doing nothing else but creating something that was mine only. Even if it was only for a short while.

I still have the books that I made for my dolls.

I still have the memories. 

Sun in My Ears

Little girl outside riding her scooter on the sidewalk is going back and forth in front of my window. 

She's singing "E.I.E.I.O" over and over in a loop. 

I can hear her at the end of the sidewalk quietly, all lowercase. Then the closer she gets to my window it's all "e.i.e.IIIIIIII.OOOOOoooo." 

The clacking of the scooter wheels punctuating each letter. 

Glimmers. Always glimmers.

Fo Sho

 Okay, story time: 

The waiter at our go to Shanghai Cafe is a ridiculous flirt and funny.

Last time I was there he caught me doing a check in on my credit card and my big huge balance was on my phone. He asked if I was investing and I just laughed it off and said a hearty NO!

Today, he asked what we were doing for the afternoon after my doctor visit and then lunch. We told him Trader Joe's because they refuse to go North despite all my wonderful advice. Mister Waiterman suggested I just invest in them and then take over the whole company so they do my bidding. 

Then me, being me said "With my name being Heidi, I'd change it to 'Trader Ho's.'"

He thought it was hilarious. 

My Mom, not so much.

Patched

The prospect of doing these Immunoglobulin Infusions for the rest of my life has been, well, a little more than daunting. Having all the STUFF invade my home was the final big push of the reality of it: the pole, the sharps container, a special dresser (albeit cute because, of course) to hold all the syringes, gauze, chucks, tubes, alcohol wipes, and needles and on and on.

I'm still not completely sure of myself when I administer it, on myself. Definitely not proficient yet. I'm lucky to have the best support in my Mom and Jen. My goal is to be the best Self Infuser EVER! I know I'll get there. Even when I fail terribly and the tube gets blocked and I have to replace the needle and poke myself three more times. Frustrating doesn't cover it.

Then there's today. For the first time, in I don't even know how long, I felt, good. 

I did grocery pick up instead of delivery. 

I drove with the windows down and sang. 

The last few days I've had enough energy to cook "REAL" meals. 

What if this actually works?

I've called the meds that I get Liquid Gold, not only because of the price. 

I'm being repaired, Kintsugi style. 

Inside out.

Ask

 My Mom's back is more than pretty awful at the moment. Just getting up to go to the bathroom is a colossal effort. So today, we spent the day in her bed watching HGTV, then writing in a book I bought for her a while ago called "Questions You'll Wish You Asked: A Time Capsule Journal for Mothers and Daughters." We talked, reminisced, and laughed. I cried. 

I clipped her toenails. We all played with Sami. Todd had Sushi delivered for a fun dinner treat. 

I missed her the moment I drove away. 

There are still many more pages to fill out in the book and I'm very much looking forward to them. 

I'm also looking forward to her feeling better.

The One With The Friend In It

The person I thought was my best friend since I was five years old dumped me through a FB message. Cut me out of her's, the husband's, and her five kid's lives that I nannied since they were born.  I had finally stood up to her when I refused to take her warped "The Secret" brained bullshit and believe her new insanity about people in a local shooting that "drew the bullets and the shooter" to them with their negativity.

Negativity was to blame for everything: your poverty, your job or lack of, your relationship or lack of, and then the biggie - your health. 

Sadly, I allowed her to shame me for years. Decades even. For not being thin enough, outgoing enough, healthy enough, just not enough. I was always loyal. That's how I'm made. I NEVER competed with her because there was no point. Her own sister-in-law once told me that was the only way we had ever remained friends, because I never tried to compete. 

She even changed her major to mine mid way through Sophomore year and started working at the English department. All the while, I struggled with my health, always wanting and waiting for her to understand. Basically all I wanted was for her to give me absolution for not being up to her standards. 

It never came and only AFTER she removed me from her life did I accept the responsibility of allowing her to treat me that way for so long. I had so much more say than I realized. Also, I was relieved. I am still relieved. Her decision ended up being the biggest gift. For both of us.

Not having her in my life is such a release. Doesn't mean I never miss the extended family that I loved. Doesn't mean I don't still have a hollow where I held space for her most of my life. And yet, I'm so grateful. Not too long after getting dumped, I realized that the loss of the kids was the worst part. I fill each hollow with all the jokes, songs, smiles, and the best of the memories, knowing that I will never allow any treatment like this to happen again.  

Now, I do my best to be the bestest best friend to myself first. Doesn't always stick. But, I'm learning. Every day. That way, when I'm that level of friends with myself first, it's soooooo much easier, and a hell of a lot more fun to be any level of friend with me.