Friendships. Old Friends, New Friends, Changed Friends.

Isn't it much different making friends as an adult compared to let's say being a kid, or being in High School, or even a young adult?  I cherish that I have many friendships of different kinds.  I've had my friendships that will be alive forever.  The ones that have been with you for so many stages of your life.  I have three dear friends that I met in Junior High that I still consider my "best friends".  We could go for long stretches without talking but it is mutually understood that we love one another unconditionally and are friendship isn't going anywhere, it's here to stay. These are the women that knew me as a teenager, they know all about my rebellion, my sweetness, my mistakes, the pain I have been through, and the happiest moments of my life.  I know all of theirs as well.  We go for long periods of time when life gets busy and we don't talk and then there are times we make time to talk or visit.  We are at weddings, funerals, births, the important moments tie us together a little tighter with each one.  There is something about my old school "best friends" that ground me when I see them.  Maybe it reminds me of the younger care free girl I was, or the growth I've experienced since the old times. It's a special bond to carry a friendship through so many stages.

Then I made some friends as a young adult.  Some we try to keep in touch and a few of us are still very close.  We partied hard together, consoled one another after break ups, talked for hours about life and our ideas, hung out every weekend, and sometimes became more than friends. These are friends that were there during a very wild, confusing part of life.  We were all on the verge of becoming real adults that would soon jump into the real world of responsibilities. We then watched one another mature, meet our spouses, settle down, some of us had children.  We shared special times together when there was parts of us alive that aren't there any more because we have tamed ourselves (yes, I was a wild one at times, dealing with some demons the only way I knew how). Some of these friends knew that, or figured it out, they know parts of me that new friends do not. These friends were all a part of vital time in life during the gateway to becoming a real adult, and I love them to pieces. Both sets of friends would be the ones to notice that after losing my father a big piece of me was gone for a while.  The funny girl was gone.  My laugh and smile were gone unless I forced them out.  I wasn't me for a while.

Then we have the new friends.  The friends I made since moving to a new place 6 years ago.  I met them when I was trying to get myself back.  I sometimes wondered if they would ever know the funny girl who laughed a lot.  I'm happy to say she came back and they know her well. 

I was lucky to make many.  The process was different though.  I met many people all at once, making it very difficult to see who was a real friend and who was more of a friendly acquaintance. It took time. We were all adults, we were all mothers, we all had a common ground.  This in itself gave me the illusion that everyone was at the same maturity level and understanding of friendship. This does not mean we were all meant to be close friends, which some did not grasp.  There were times I trusted when I shouldn't have. There was times I shared things and shouldn't have.  There were times when I could tell I was being put in the middle of things.  There were times when I knew there was jealousy from others for becoming close to particular people.  It amazed me how much effort and energy this took!  To deal with all of these feelings and emotions from everyone else, and watching them do the same.  We all seemed to exhausted, and it wasn't just from taking care of kids all day. I was dumbfounded when I would learn that this group of ladies would talk about that group of ladies.  Or when someone claimed to be a friend to another, but when one negative thing was said about her, she ditches her all together.  I've made a friend only to have her drop me like a hot cake with no explanation when I was under the impression that she cared about me and our friendship for quite some time.  I saw a lot of heart break happen and it was sad.   I didn't see it right away. All I saw was how great it was to have this support system of women.  It was new to me and it was priceless. We are grown women, with children, I would have never anticipated the drama and complexity this large circle entailed. 

It got complicated.  If I hung out with one small group, it seemed to be an issue when I hung out with another small group without including everyone.  This was not in any way based around me, just in general I saw it happen to many people. People started to group us all as one solid person, forgetting that we are individuals who have different relationships with each other.  We didn't need to always be "the 4 of us" or the "3 of us", everyone is their own person and can spend their time how they please without it offending anyone.  I had came into this group of wonderful women with the idea that we were all mature, we were all adult women with children.  I was so surprised at how much sensitivity, jealousy, and insecurities were flying around.  It opened my eyes. When I first became aware I was turned off by it.  I am the type that if I feel even slightly smothered or hunted, I disappear.  I need my freedom and alone time, with any relationship.  I am independent and I sometimes don't feel social at all.  I don't ever want to feel obligated to anyone just to make them feel better. I spent a good portion of my life people pleasing and I'm on the road to retirement from that.  I can't do needy and I can't have someone not respecting my time as well as their own.  I have bigger fish to fry in the world like the focus on my marriage, my family, my passions, and my goals to worry about who is kicking it with who or what passive-aggressive comment might be meant towards who on Facebook.

However, after feeling disappointed and even angry about some of these behaviors, and after backing away from it all, I started to see it in a new light.  I realized that I needed to see people for who they are.  Some people are very sensitive.  Some people have debilitating insecurities.  Some people easily feel rejected.  I have come too far to go accommodating every one's personal needs before my own, but I could become understanding.  I had to understand that some of my friendships would change and that that was OK. Some friendships would become more like friendly acquaintances.  Some friends you may not spend time with anymore but running into them and exchanging a big hug and "how are ya?" is wonderful. Some friendships would become distant but still loyal if ever either of us were in need of help or praise. Some became lifelong friendships that I don't know what I would do without.  Some became nothing and some became questionable.  Some would take too much effort and it shouldn't be that hard.  Some would be tested and some would be forced.  Some you just have to let fade. In younger  years when friendships were no longer their was usually huge drama behind it. As an adult it's important to realize and accept change, it's so much easier on the heart. There are those times when things get dirty and friendships end with high emotion and that is unfortunate.

I've seen friends that went from being as tight as they come to becoming fake-friendly acquaintance. I've seen close friends become strangers.  I've seen people who weren't so sure about each other become a tight knit pair.  

It's more complicated as adults, we are focused on family, marriage, we are experiencing deaths, tragedies, special events, we are learning that we can't always rely on the people we thought we could, there is so much going on in this stage of life, we really need our friends.  With how connected we all are now through social media, we tend to compare ourselves.  We see the posts from the mom who complains about being so busy all the time, even though we are all busy in our own ways and some choose to stay so busy.  There are the posts that brag about all the great donating and volunteering they do, making sure everyone knows how wonderful they are.  There are the posts about how wonderful their marriage is, when they may have just made up after a huge fight.  Its not real.  Real is being there for someone and knowing them, not their posts on the Internet. My advice would be not to worry so much.  You do what you do. There is no one you  need to keep up with.  Do what feels right for you and your family.  No one needs to be a certain way, we are all different and that's what makes great friendships, loving the differences in each other.  Follow your gut on who is true to you.  Don't expect to be a part of everything. If  your friendships are real there shouldn't be a reason to feel insecure.  Is this person there for you when you are in need?  When you ask their advice, do they give it to you straight?  Are you hanging out because you enjoy  your time together, or because you want to post it on social media for someone else to see?  Do they care about your feelings?  My biggest factor in a friend, a close friend that I trust, is are they real?  Are they the same person all the time, no matter who is around? Are they honest? Maybe they are not, that's OK too, I can still like them and enjoy their company now and again and love things about them.

Easier said than done, but try not to be hurt when friendships change.  Be hurt if it hurts, but try to move on. Remember that life is constantly changing and people come in and out of our lives for so many reasons. When you have a few people who offer you the support of caring about you.  The support of encouraging  your dreams, the support of a helping hand and an open ear. The support of being real and sharing laughs. Friends that understand when you need to be alone. The support of keeping your secrets.  The support of being genuinely happy for your accomplishments, this is the good stuff.  This is what friends, of all types are made of.

The whole experience of old friends, new friends, lost friends, and changed friends has been important.  Once you understand that it is all a part of the circle of life you can see the good in it all rather than feel upset or let down. I don't regret a single friendship, however or long or short lived it was. Even when things end, there was something to be learned. 

So keep making friends!  Keep your close friends dear to your heart, offer big genuine smiles to your friendly acquaintance friends and be open to new friends, keep it simple.  Once things get too complex it will eventually become toxic.

Dear Dad,

It has been a long time since I have had such a strong urge to pick up the phone and call you. Sure, it has crossed my mind tons of times how great it would be to call you, I even dream about calling you. Although in my dreams when I call, you are sick and lonely and I fall apart realizing that I forgot about you, leaving you to care for your dying self, alone. I try to get to you but you seem uninterested. I hate those dreams. I wake up feeling horrible and lonely and ashamed. The dreams where you visit me though, those I cherish. Although my heart is broken when I wake up to remember the reality that you are gone, I still have the warmth of your brief subconscious visit. 

Tonight though, tonight I held my phone in my hand wanting to call. I felt just for a moment that I really could call you, I almost felt years of relief rush into my heart at the idea. I was excited and confused at the idea, in disbelief. Then of course, reality set in. Disbelief is the reality because I will never speak to you on the phone again, only in my dreams.

Sometimes it feels like just yesterday I saw you and other days it feels like the many years it has been. 

It seems like there is something about when the season changes. I get extra sensitive, I need you more and the fact that you are gone seems more real than most days. Maybe because a new season is about change. The weather changes, the activities change, the clothing changes, drinks and food change. You being gone never changes. You continue to stay gone. I want you back so badly and I'm helpless about it. There is nothing I could do or say or write. There are no amount of tears or yelling. I know you are here with me, but it sure would be nice to have a hug once in a while, a hug from my dad, your huge hands patting my back.

As I sit on the porch writing this in tears, the weather is changing around me. It's windy and cool. I'm changing. I'm open and raw but, you being gone remains the same. As the season sets in I will feel better. It won't be something new without you anymore, it will just be Fall. 

Everything that is new without you is hard. A new house, a new baby, a new experience, new excitement, new fear, new surgeries, new hobbies, but no you.

In a way it teaches awareness and appreciation. Maybe  I wouldn't see things so deeply and mindfully if you were still here. They wouldn't be so new. They wouldn't be so noticeably different than before you were gone. 

I remember when you were sick and Spring set in. I remember having a hard time with it. I remember you asked the Chaplain to come talk to Sarah and I with you, about you dying. I recall bursting into tears about the fact that it was Spring and you never come visit much anymore and last Spring you came over all the time. You, being the sweetheart that you were, tried soothing me and apologizing for not visiting. I laughed through tears and said "no, no of course you can't come visit much, that's why we come visit you. It's just something I notice about the season changing and you aren't at my house as much, it's just new and I hate it". I did not know that it would feel new to me every season for this many years. I still hate it, but it does spark wonderful memories. 

I just found myself feeling so sad and lonely holding my phone in my hand realizing I couldn't call you when it felt, just for a moment that I could. So instead I wrote. I wrote it out and freed it all to the new Spring wind outside. 

Yolanda stopped by just as I was done crying it out in the bathroom (my favorite crying place). As I sat and listened to her talk I couldn't help but think about how she was initially going to have you walk her down the isle at her wedding. The thought was comforting, like your huge man-hand patting my back hugs or the way you always called me "Girl". What a great and noble thing. She didn't know you long, but she knew you were great and loving, and that your smile was always real. She knew you treated her well and adored her husband to be. She knew because those things were easy to see in you. 

Thanks for taking my mind off of sadness Yoli, even if you didn't know it. ;-)

So I feel more calm again. I feel relieved to finish up all those intense emotions (for now). I'll hope for a visit from you in my dreams. 

I miss you dad, like, a lot.

All my love, 

Jenny ("Girl")

All the baby stuff is gone!!

A few months back I remember feeling a tad emotional as we got rid of Andrew's toddler/crib mattress. He is the last baby of the house. He was moving on to a regular twin mattress. 

I started thinking today about the fact that all the baby stuff is gone! There is no evidence in the house of a baby residing here. Well, I guess that is because he isn't technically a baby, he is three and a half years old.  He IS the baby of the house though. Our kids are 13, 12, 10, 6, amd 3 this year. 

I sat here itemizing the missing baby items in my head. No baby matress. No stroller. No little baby spoons. Well I have a few but I use them for my loose-leaf tea now. We ditched the sippy cups well over a year ago along with diapers and pull ups. The nobly was over before age 2. No more carriers, baby toys, attachments for random baby gear. 

What is left? Well, a car seat for at least 7 more pounds and some plastic kid bowls. The bowls will stick around for a while, there is always a good use for a tiny bowl. Recently all the toys moved upstairs. We moved "the baby" into the boy's room and his previous room is more of a playroom now, video games, toys, movies. Of course he still sneaks toys back downstairs but over all it is mostly toy free.

I have to say, as sentimental as it is sometimes, it is nice to have my house back. Don't get me wrong, there are still 5 kids here leaving their stuff all over, but the bonus of my baby becoming a big kid is that my house doesn't have to look and feel like a preschool. 

I miss those enchanted baby days of tiny feet and coos and swaddles, and the scent of baby head as he laid on my chest and I would him the national anthem to him (I have no clue why, but that was what I always sang to him), but I love my baby turned big kid and all the fascinating things he has to say. I love that he dangles from the kitchen sink to rinse his own dishes off and offers to unload the silverware from the dishwasher. I love that he randomly brings me a thoughtful glass of water. I love that he teases me by telling me he is Daddy's Baby, but when alone he hugs me and says he is mine. I love that he made his own peanut butter sandwich yesterday and was beaming with pride. He can buckle himself in, but I like that he can't unbuckle ;-)

I love that he falls asleep watching my iPad.

I no longer have to make sure the diaper bag is set to go as if I am preparing to go camping just to run to the store. All he needs now is a pair of matching shoes (he wore a tennis shoe and a sandal to school a few days ago), whatever, he had shoes on, right? 

The last baby in the house is a big kid now. OK, he is a little kid, but he's not a baby! We are entering the next stage of being parents to a bunch of big kids! He will though, always be "The Baby".

Recovery

Here I am again, in post op recovery. I cannot tell you how many people, nurses included, have asked how in the world I got this injury. Typically it is an "old person" injury. Just to clear the air, I ended up with a stress fracture on my hip at age 23. All I know is that I was loading a moving truck with friends because I was moving home to Tracy from Los Angeles the next day. That evening I had a painful limp. After discussing it with my ready to party friends, we decided it would be best to drink it off and continue on with the farewell Jenny escapade.

The pain was intermittent so I ignored it for the next 8 years. I would randomly be in horrible sharp pain in my groin area, causing me to limp. After a while it would stop, so I never worried about it.

After having three kids, and the extra weight that accompanied that, the pain began to occur more frequently. Once I found out it was actually a stress free acture, I declined a bone grafting surgery. My thoughts were that A. That sounded really intense. B. I had a newborn baby. C. Even though the pain was happening more often, it still wasn't on a daily basis. I declined surgery and went on with my life and my hip fracture. Nber receiving or investigating any further information and dangers of my injury.

Within the next two years I started running. My beautiful red headed Pitbull, Dolly and I ran together. We were partners. It was a new form of release for me. All my thoughts could rush through my mind but for some reason, while running, they didn't burden me. They weren't heavy objects perched on my shoulders or chest. They were light and fleeting and they flowed through me and danced around the rolling hills that was my scenery. I could easily abandon any thought at any time just by focusing on my breathing and the way my body was in a magical rhythm of respiratory, muscular and skeletal function. Never had I been able to calm my thoughts and worries so well without there being a glass of wine, a nap, or meditative state involved. It was great. It was free, it was healthy, and it was all mine.

I wasn't a hardcore runner. Dolly and I probably jogged about  a mile and half to two miles a few days a week. I wasn't in it for distance or making great time. I did shoot to improve my time with each run, but as long as I was enjoying it and it was doing something for me, I was satisfied. 

Before my first surgery in July 2013, I had to stop running. The pain became too much to tolerate, even on the treadmill. 

When I think about my first surgery, I still feel angry and cheated, a bit defeated even. I've come a long way in how I feel but I still have some accepting and moving on to do. 

I can say that it was hard. It was so hard! I was a mess leading up to it, not knowing what to expect, not having all my questions answered, knowing my husband would be off to work and I would be home alone. I wasn't even sure how much help I needed, or what I needed help with, or if I would need help at all! How long would I need to arrange a ride for my kids to get to and from school? Could I handle my busy 2 year old on my own during the day? Could I put aside my stubbornness and call on my beautiful friends for help and support? I was an anxious mess until the moment I went under in the operating room.

I didn't know that I would wake up with an 11 inch incision down my thigh and be in the most intense pain of my life, even after numerous doses of various pain medications. It took hours to manage the pain and it was difficult to keep that management steady. The hospital stay was somewhat of a pained blur. I was in no shape for visitors. Only my husband came. 

The universe gifted me an abundance of love and help from many friends and family. I started to stress after a while though. I felt guilty and uncomfortable with how long I needed to ask for help. Especially with rides to school. I know how challenging it can be to get your own kids dressed and out the door in time, then add to the task leaving earlier to go out of the way to grab my kids too? My big-hearted friend, Angela Bodas was my school transportation angel for almost 8 weeks. I tried driving at 6 weeks but it was still too painful. This was a big learning lesson on asking for the help I needed and accepting it. I had a friend come and clean, a friend who drove me to get lab work and take my kids for a while, a friend who came and made me a nice breakfast. It's amazing what a nice little breakfast will do for your spirit. I couldn't have done it without them all and their helpful hearts.

I was on crutches for about 3 months and limped around for the next year until my next surgery. The whole thing was a fail. My fracture was worse than before and the barbaric hardware drilled into my bone was almost a constant irritant. 

I can say that this second surgery is already a better experience. I had the utmost confidence in my surgeon, I went in knowing what to expect, and having all my questions answered. All of the above were forms of comfort. I also knew that my husband would have time off of work. That means for at least the first month he could take our kids to school, run errands, and be with me at home. 

There was a calmness this time. I had the normal amount of nervousness and fear that most would have before a major surgery, but I knew things would work out. I was completely calm in the operating room before going under. 

Waking up in recovery was like night and day in comparison to last year. My pain was managed and I found myself conversating with the recovery nurse about short haircuts and how cute hers was. I was happy and talkative. There was a light magical feeling to it all. Last time was nothing but tears of pain.

I was put in a newer observation area for my first nights stay rather than my own room on the ortho floor. 

This was quiet and relaxing. There were only three patients and two wonderful nurses.  The next afternoon I was moved to my own room on the ortho floor. Although it was nice to have walls instead of curtains, have a phone and a tv (which I didn't even use), it was loud and chaotic. It took longer to get nurses help due to how many patients were in need and it was noisy. However, the stay as a whole was great. You are not aloud to get out of bed until a physical therapist comes to assist you. This didn't happen until my second day. I was very mobile but it was exhausting. I took advantage of all the quiet time there. I didn't end up touching my knitting or my book. I did do some writing. 

I actually remember coming home this time. Louie got me all set up, my mom had stayed at my home to help with the kids and the house while I was away.  It was quiet and relaxing. Mom made tacos and I ate up all my kids attention. We had missed each other sentimentally the past few days.

My wonderful friends, once again flew around with capes on their backs. Planning meals, offering rides, checking in with thoughtful texts, play dates, we have 2 weeks of meals being delivered, and even offers to help Louie take the little guy to preschool so that he can just worry about the older two, plus help getting to football when we have to be in two places at once.  We couldn't be more grateful. I feel loved and cared for. I feel honored to have such giving people in our lives. 

I haven't done a whole lot of visiting and I apologize to those of you I haven't gotten  back to. As great as I feel compared to last time, I tire easily. I'm using a walker with no weight bearing allowed, it's a lot of work. The medicine, pain, and healing is just plain exhausting. I've been babying  this recovery so that it can turn out right this time. I haven't even left the house and our plan is that I won't until I go to my post op on Friday. Last time I tried so hard to be places and do things but it was too much.

Already there is no bruising, no infection, and minimal swelling.

I have to share that my husband, Louis, has been amazing. He is doing the school drop offs and pick ups, he is preparing breakfast and lunch for him and I, he is keeping up the house, he is getting the kids up and ready for school every morning and out the door promptly at 7:30am. He makes sure homework is done, he is doing laundry, he is keeping my gigantic water jug filled with fresh water all day, he is making sure I have everything I need, he is giving me shit when he thinks I'm putting weight on my right foot, he is not letting me get away with trying to do too much. He is here and he is attentive. He also will randomly surprise me with a burrito (I would never marry a man who would not do this).

So recovery this time is better. It feels quiet and calm. It feels patient and it right. It actually feels healing. Last time it was uncertainty and pain and worry. 

So thank you friends, for making this recovery feel simplistic and for shining light on the darkness of the last one. 

You are all little angels in my book and I love you dearly.