Month: August 2018

Conversation With…A Rickety Elevator…about finally speaking out in older age.

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 110 Comments

Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I came to a high-rise. I entered the building and noticed a rickety, older elevator. I walked toward it and it spoke to me:

elevator

RICKETY ELEVATOR: Going up? I have to ask. It’s an elevator thing.

No way. I’m not going inside you.  I don’t go in elevators. I’m claustrophobic.

RICKETY ELEVATOR: Good! Because I’m sick of taking people and their dogs up and down and up and down and up and down. All day. All night. I never have a say about the way I’m treated, or who I want to let into my life.

So, what would you like to be different?

RICKETY ELEVATOR: Well, after all these years, I don’t want to put just anybody inside me anymore. Why do I have to be open to everybody? Why don’t I have a choice? Why can’t I speak up and say, “No! I don’t like you! You’re not coming in here! Take the stairs!”

You deserve that.

RICKETY ELEVATOR: And furthermore! If someone pushes the third floor, I have to go there. What if I don’t feel like going to the third floor? I have to go anyway and keep my mouth shut. What if I just want to take a rest? When is it time for ME? When do I get to express MY feelings?

If not now, when?

RICKETY ELEVATOR: I’m with you! But…it’s hopeless. Why am I telling you this? You’re not an elevator. You don’t get it.

I do get it. Because I’m an empty nester. Sometimes my kids do things that are hurtful or make me sad, but I don’t get to speak out either.

RICKETY ELEVATOR: Why not?

Well, here’s the way I see it.  As a parent in 2018, I’m supposed to walk on eggshells. Like, if I have concerns about girlfriends or boyfriends my kids have chosen, if I say the slightest, teeniest, tiniest negative thing, they go crazy and argue until I feel like a speck of dirt. I have to be quiet and let them decide what they think for themselves.

RICKETY ELEVATOR: What a bore.

And here’s MY big question: when I do I get to say how I really feel in a straightforward way???? Even though I’m the grown up!

RICKETY ELEVATOR: You said it, sister Rant on!

Listen to this! My daughter moved to the other side of the country to have an adventure.

RICKETY ELEVATOR: I know. I read your blog. You never stop talking about it. You’re obsessed.

Sorry. But now it looks like my daughter will live far away forever. As a Baby Boomer mom, I’m supposed to say to my daughter, “Oh my goodness! I’m so happy you found your life. I’m so happy you found happiness. I’m so proud of you.”

RICKETY ELEVATOR: What would you rather say?

I’d love to say to my daughter, “What about ME???? I HATE that you live so far away!  I HATE that we communicate through some kind of screen most of the time! It hurts that you moved so far from me! Why don’t you care as much as I do? Why don’t you miss me as much as I miss you? Why why why why and why????  Come home now!”

RICKETY ELEVATOR: Got it.

So? When do I get to say that??? I’m an empty nester mom. Why don’t MY feelings get a chance to come out??????

RICKETY ELEVATOR: I don’t know. I’m an elevator.

I know. Well…even if there isn’t hope for me, there’s hope for you.

Really??????? How?????________________________________________________________________________________________

At that moment, I made an “out of order” sign and happily placed it on the elevator’s door. Now, whenever the elevator needs to “speak out” about being shoved around, it puts the sign on its door and takes a break.

But I still haven’t solved my own problem about speaking out.  Do you ever let out your raw, uncensored feelings to your adult kids? If you do, how do you say it without upsetting them? Or…maybe they just need to know that parents have feelings too? When are we ALL adults?

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

 

Conversation with…A tattered flag…begging to stand for something new.

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 75 Comments

Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I noticed an old, tattered flag on the ground. It was just what I needed in my life so I rushed over!

flag 1

Hey flag! I see you’ve been through a lot.  Me too!

TATTERED FLAG: Don’t judge me. I know I look saggy on the outside, but I don’t feel that way on the inside. I’ve got a lot inside that wants to come out, but who’s gonna take an old, torn flag seriously?

I will! This could be the start of something big!

TATTERED FLAG: What are you talking about?

Here’s the thing. All my life, I’ve been kinda quirky, and I’ve always put myself down for it. I’ve called myself, “fearful” or “neurotic” or “weird.”

TATTERED FLAG: So?

So for better or worse, at this point in my life since I don’t think I’m going to become a completely different person, why not stand up for my quirky self and be proud of it?

TATTERED FLAG: What do you do that’s quirky?

 Well, I don’t like elevators because I’m super claustrophobic.  Whenever I enter a building, the first thing I look for is the staircase. I always apologize for myself and then take the stairs.

 TATTERED FLAG: Is that all?

No. I have a panic button that can go off at any moment. Like, if I’m in an office building and the fire alarm gongs, while others are standing around assuming it’s a mistake, I’ve already raced out the door and run five blocks away.

TATTERED FLAG: Anything else?

Sure. Even though I’ve traveled in a plane lots of times, flying always makes me insanely nervous. So I’ve done most of my world traveling on youtube.

TATTERED FLAG: I’m guessing there’s more.

Of course. When I’m at home and open a new container of cottage cheese or milk and use a little bit, I’m afraid I’ll forget I’ve opened the container. I’m afraid the next time I want to use the milk or cottage cheese, I’ll worry I bought an opened container and someone poisoned my food. So for peace of mind, every time I open a new container, I write, “OK” on it. That way, I’m sure it hasn’t been poisoned. And then other times I–

TATTERED FLAG: That’s enough. What does all this have to do with me?

Well, in my older age, I’m thinking, “Maybe I won’t apologize for my offbeat behavior anymore. Instead, I’ll embrace it and FLY MY FREAK FLAG.”

 TATTERED FLAG: And…I’m the freak flag?

Obviously. I’d wave you proudly as I write “OK” on my containers. If I’m taking a train to visit my daughter who lives 3,000 miles away, you’ll be furling in my hand. The next time I’m faced with an elevator, I’ll hold you up high as I’m taking the stairs. After all these years, I will accept the person I am and wave my freak flag in all my glory.

TATTERED FLAG: Whatever. I’m in. But right now I’m just a ragged flag that looks like it’s been through the wash too many times. How can I become a freak flag?

 Easy. Just add more eyeballs.

flag 2

TATTERED FLAG: I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of that myself.

 Don’t give it a second thought. Welcome to my world.

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

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Do you fly a freak flag? Care to share?

Conversation With…A Dried Flower…about the parts of ourselves that die.

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 65 Comments

Traveling Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I came to a fork in the road.  The path that led to the left had a powerful, bright light at the end. The path on the right led to TJ Maxx. My favorite clothing store. Which was the correct way to go?! I noticed a dried flower floating toward the bright light. Actually, it was a beautiful, dried rose.  I asked her opinion…

dried flower

Excuse me! Dried flower?  Do you know which way to go?

DRIED FLOWER: It’s a matter of opinion.  I’m surprised you’re talking to me.

Why?

DRIED FLOWER: Because I’m dead.

No problem. I’ve always wanted to talk to someone dead.

DRIED FLOWER: Okay. Your choice. So, what do you want to know?

How do you know you’re dead?

DRIED FLOWER: I Googled it. The definition of death is, “the cessation of all vital functions.” Since I don’t have to make sure I have water or sunlight anymore to keep going or growing, it sounds like the right diagnosis.

How does it feel to be dead?

DRIED FLOWER: Kind of freeing in a way. I can let go of stress and move on. But this is crazy. I’m sure you can’t relate.

In some ways I can. I mean, even though I’m alive, some parts of me have passed on.

DRIED FLOWER: What are you talking about?

Well, I used to have brown hair. Now it’s gray. I’ll never have brown hair again. That phase within my body has died. Passed on.

DRIED FLOWER: Interesting. What else?

I used to menstruate, but that part of my system has shut down. Died. I’ll never get my period again. And there’s more. There are emotional deaths.

DRIED FLOWER: Like what?

Well, I remember when I was a teenager, one summer I went to sleep away camp. I was obsessed with the boys and having a boyfriend. There was a newness, a crispness, a freshness about the anticipation of that experience. I can’t really describe it, but it was so exciting. Even if I tried to go back to that phase of life, I’d experience it differently because I’d bring wisdom and perspective to it now. That phase of my life has passed on. I’ll never feel quite that way again.

DRIED FLOWER: Hmmm…

But then, there are other emotional phases I’m happy have died. Like, for years I used to be terrified of thunderstorms. If thunderstorms were in the weather forecast, I’d hide in a bathroom with no windows while the storms passed through. But then! When my son was born, I suddenly wasn’t afraid of thunderstorms anymore. Out of nowhere.

DRIED FLOWER: Maybe you realized you had bigger things to worry about.

Maybe. Now I actually love thunderstorms.

DRIED FLOWER: That’s nice.

So you know? Maybe life and death aren’t black and white. Maybe deaths are just series of cycles that move on to new cycles…even during life. I mean, look at you. You’re dead, but you’re an elegant, rust color. You’re very beautiful.

DRIED FLOWER: Thanks, but I gotta go now. I’m feeling pulled toward the  bright light.  Want to come?

No thanks. I’m going shopping.

DRIED FLOWER: What’s so enticing about TJ Maxx?

When you go in, you have to wade through a lot of stuff to find something you really like. You might find something, you might not. But if you do, it’s the greatest feeling, and it’s probably on sale so it’s within your reach.

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With that, I took a few steps toward the store. I turned around to say good-bye to the dried flower, but she was gone.

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

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Are there parts of you that have died?