“Ignore the man behind the curtain!” The Great and Powerful Oz bellowed as smoke and flames shot into the air around his enormous translucent head. This command struck sheer terror into my heart. Not Dorothy, though. She marched right over to that curtain and yanked it back, exposing the knobs and levers and fraud of a polished showman. She was far braver than I am.
Sometimes I worry that if I ask too many questions I’ll expose something ugly and raw that I would rather not know. I don’t agree with, “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” as national policy, but on a purely personal level I have used it more times than I would like to admit. I’m not proud of this cowardice, but I do own it.
I was raised in a family that kept secrets. As far as I know, I was the biggest secret of all. Nobody was supposed to know that I was adopted, least of all me. I might be scarred. I might be ruined. Or, worst of all, I might turn out like my birth mother, who was obviously incompetent or worse. She must have been, or she wouldn’t have found herself in a position to give up her baby. Me.
It took so many years and so much preparation to finally gain the courage to peek behind that curtain and ask, in so many words, “was I adopted?” It’s an easy question, really. Basically a yes or no would do. What I got in response was, “Would it matter?”
Yes. It matters. It matters that my entire personal history has been a lie. It matters that somewhere out in the world there are people with whom I share a genetic tie that, in spite of the lies and omissions of truth that began the day I was born, cannot be denied. Until my own child was born I had never laid eyes on anyone who was related to me by birth. I had never before seen myself in anyone else, and it was a strange experience indeed.
So, yes, it matters. I wish you had come out from behind that curtain years ago. I wish you would have trusted me with the truth of my existence. I would have loved you still.
Since originally posting about the small things in life that make me happy, I have been noticing them all over the place. This is a very good thing, as being mindful and finding the positives in life have a way of making life more pleasant and emotionally fuller.
In fact I’ve been mulling over these small things so much that I’m toying with the idea of making the small things a regular feature of the blog. While I wrestle with that momentous decision, I would like to offer you five more from the depths of my heart.
1. Blowing the fluff off a dandelion. Yes, I know these are weeds, and yes, I know that this is how you spread their seeds, but something about that whoosh of air releasing those soft white puffs into a million delicate paratroopers is just magical.
2. Pitching a penny into a fountain and making a wish. Growing up we NEVER did this. A penny saved is a penny earned, after all. However, taking the time to stop for a moment and give some thought to my wishes is worth more than the cost of the penny to me, and sharing that moment with my son is far more valuable than that.
3. The scent of lemons. It takes me right back to junior high school and Love’s Fresh Lemon fragrance. I never did like the Baby Soft scent, though.
4. Pop-up books. They are so clever and engaging and beg to be enjoyed again and again.
5. The text I get from my sweetheart each day telling me to have a good day and reminding me that he loves me. Each day it’s slightly different and he’s made up a million cute little names for me that are only used in those messages. They are silly and sweet and fun, and they just make me happy.
What small things make you happy? Surround yourself with happiness and maybe it will catch on.
Well of course there’s junk in my life. Everyone has it, in one form or another, and I’m no exception. In fact, I have plenty of junk. I have junk in my head, on my hips, in my home and in my heart. Do I need or even want all that junk? No I do not, yet I hang onto it, so there have to be some reasons.
Let’s start with the head. It’s full of all sorts of nonsense, making it difficult for important information to find a comfortable home. I can recite random factoids and song lyrics from 1975, but can I remember my son’s orthodontist appointment or where I put those photos? Often times, the answer is no. Since I know of no way to reorganize my brain, I’m trying to rely on methods outside my memory to help keep me organized. If only my brain worked more like a computer, where I could set up folders for information to access it more easily, and delete that which is no longer relevant. Of course that assumes I would actually do those things, but in reality my computer desktop is full of junk too. At least my computer works more efficiently than my brain, and I’m able to search it quickly, too.
Now on to the body junk, and boy is there lots of it. There is plenty of extra fat, some extra cholesterol, and an assortment of bonus skin cells here and there. I paint a lovely picture, I know. Getting rid of all that body junk isn’t easy. The skin, well, that has to be removed by a doctor, and frankly it hurts, so some of it I just live with (we’re talking little moles and skin tags, people, not horrific lesions). The cholesterol is a little easier to deal with. For a while it involved taking a tiny pill, but exercise has made those pills unnecessary. Yay! In fact exercise, along with a healthy diet, is the way I’m going to keep getting rid of the fat. I totally get it, burn more calories than you take in. Simple. But oh, so difficult! I’m trying, though.
That leads us perfectly into the junk of the heart. This is the emotional junk that we carry around. Here lie the messages that you maybe aren’t quite good enough. Maybe you don’t deserve love. Perhaps you’ll never reach your goals. Self doubt and unhappiness burrow into hidden corners of the heart and take up residence. They have to be exposed and banished. They are like a cancer. They have to be forcibly removed, but often traces of them are left behind. These need to be eradicated with consistent long term positive messages and large doses of love. Even so, they can creep back in. The health of the heart has to be monitored closely and intervention must take place quickly in order to avoid a takeover by those doubts and negative emotions. Fortunately I have a team on my side that loves me, making it much easier to wipe out those bits of emotional junk that do manage to creep back in.
Finally, there’s the actual physical junk that invades my living and working spaces. There’s clean and dirty laundry, piles of mail- both opened and unopened, books, magazine, dishes, quilting materials, electronics, toiletries, cleaning supplies, holiday decorations, office supplies, and tons of other junk. Now in all fairness, not much of it is actual “junk” as defined by me. To me “junk” is stuff that is useless or has no value. HOWEVER, too much stuff is too much stuff. As the very wise Flylady says, “you can’t organize clutter.” I know this, and yet clutter tends to accumulate anyway. That’s why so many of my 47 for 47 challenge items have to do with purging, streamlining, and consolidating items. As I sit here looking at my computer table alone, I know I have a big job ahead of me. Again, from the Flylady, “baby steps.” I set a timer and go through one area, tossing what doesn’t belong and putting away items that are out of place. I do this periodically, and it always feels great when I do. I give away items that are in good condition but no longer work for me and my household, and it always feel like a sigh of relief when I discover cleared off surfaces and a bit more breathing room. Now I’m inspired to do some fall cleaning. Look out junk, you’re about to go!
Not Dorothy, though. She marched right over to that curtain and yanked it back, exposing the knobs and levers and fraud of a polished showman. She was far braver than I am.
BulgingButtons 