Every night my internet goes out just when I want it the most. It means I have to turn on my iPhone’s hotspot to get a connection, which does work well for the few minutes I need it to. It happens at the same time every day. I could call someone about this, but I am lazy. That’s the truth- but what I tell myself is that they will probably just charge me additional money to not fix the problem, or to make it worse. Which is also true. I find this all very disappointing. I just want it to work without a lot of hassle. Or even a little hassle.
Do you ever have moments when you notice just how much the world has changed and it seems kind of insane? It’s funny to think about things I once wanted, and to realize how many of those things have become obsolete. It makes me feel like I have lived longer than I actually have. If I feel this way in my thirties, what will my sixties be like?
My phone is obvious. Every time I watch a TV show from the nineties where the plot revolves around people not being able to reach one another, it seems absurd. Was this really how we lived? Now characters are forced to lose their cell phones, get lost in places with no reception, or just angrily ignore each other’s phone calls in order to keep the plot going. Because while cell phones solve a lot of real life problems, they offer an inconvenient solution for sitcom writers.
But we don’t just have cell phones. We have everything I ever dreamed of as a child in the palm of our hands. And I am pretty indifferent about it most of the time. That’s the insane part. Continue reading →
(This is not directed toward, or about any one individual. This is coming from a lifetime of experience with friends and/or family who have depression. It is a reaction I have to these experiences, in general. I need to clarify that for my many followers and Facebook friends who suffer from depression and may believe I am talking about them.)
Depression is a conflicting topic for me. I am about to take a journey on eggshells here, because I do not suffer from depression. I experience it from others, but I have never experienced it for myself. I have a limited understanding, but a pretty good understanding of what it is like to be sucked into a darkness I cannot control while I feel just fine. I want to talk about that.
I’m the one who is okay, so my feelings are secondary. I don’t even mind. My brain needs balance, and it will find its way there every time. I do not understand what it feels like to have a brain that doesn’t give me a break from sadness when I need it. While someone who is suffering from depression may be unable to leave that place- I am just as unable to stay there. It’s not easy for the two of us to share space in this scenario.
For the first few years of my life no one was mean to me. I had siblings, but they were old enough to find me charming for at least the first four years. I was used to older kids being helpful, so the first time I was treated badly by one was very upsetting.
The first memory I have of this kind happened when I was about four years old. It was my one and only visit to any kind of jail. It didn’t seem strange to me that we were there. We were visiting a relative who I knew and loved, and I had no conflicting thoughts about it. I think sometimes as grownups we are unaware of how children take things at face value. I had consequences for my actions all the time as a way to teach me how to behave as an adult- so I would learn, and never have to experience serious adult consequences like jail.
In my four-year old mind, my relative must surely have been sorry and wouldn’t make that mistake again. I held no judgment. I couldn’t wait to visit, and was extremely thrilled to be patted down and searched by guards. Also, I had been promised another child my age would be there, and we would be outside by a play area.
And it all came true. There was a nice little boy my age, and we did have fun on the playground….until some bigger kids came. Continue reading →
Teghan knows one set of great-grandparents. She recognizes them, and she is familiar with their house. When she arrives there, she immediately seeks out a set of three small books that she has claimed as her own. If she does not find all three together- there will be screaming. I don’t know what exactly goes through her mind about why we go to this place, who these people are, or why we only see them on occasion. She doesn’t know that her great-grandparents are in Florida right now, or that they spend half the year there. I am not sure what memories are being created for her, but I know there is something there.
I was lucky enough to have known four of my great-grandparents. Our family spent every Sunday at my Great-Grandma Hill’s house, and she was a part of my life until after I was married. I wasn’t as close to my other great-grandparents, but I am now grateful for the opportunity to at least have memories of them. When I became interested in genealogy, those memories became more important, but they no longer defined my knowledge of them. At times it makes me sad that it took so long for me to know them the way I do now. Continue reading →