“IT WAS THE PAST!! ITS OVER!!! MOVE ON!!!!”

A distant cousin, who I was friends with on Facebook, posted this as his profile picture yesterday with the comment: “Ive got roots not racist bullshit just plain simple humans tht aint affraid of hardwork an living their dream.”

After reading this “Every day we don’t internalize this conflict, every day we tell ourselves nothing is wrong, every day we claim we can’t be racist because we have black friends, every day we share some viral cat video instead of watch the news, every day we don’t knock on our neighbor’s door… is another day nothing will change.” which came from an article I reference in the discussion I’m about to share, I felt compelled, and yes a bit fiery, to stand up for what I believe. Below is how I did that:

Me: To me, this is just a big, intentional “F*** you” to a lot of people; people who have suffered great injustices and people fighting really hard to move forward from that and heal and make it right. Anyone continuing to support this or boldly post it as their profile picture is choosing to remain uneducated and to hold our country and world back from change. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-e-price/yes-youre-a-racist—-and-a-traitor_b_7640654.html?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000063

Cousin’s Wife: Seriously slavery has been over for how long and yes there was a lot of hurt in through the years and yes there are people that are racist as hell!!!I have an issue the the generations now going on and on about slavery yes their ancestors were and it was horrible,but to use that for every single thing that happens in your life is getting real old!!!!!I’m not a bit racist I have family that is bi-racial and live everyone of them. I work with lots of African-Americans and get along great.

Me: To make those comments and then say “I’m not a bit racist” is disheartening, because those are the attitudes and thoughts that blind us from our own deeply rooted racism. And to think this is about anyone “using” it “for every single thing that happens” my goodness. Please read this: http://www.npr.org/…/dispatch-from-charleston-the-cost… as well as this: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/…/yes-youre-a-racist…. Seems some here could stand to get a bit of perspective and review history.

Until you have been part of the minority, who has experienced generations of discrimination and lack of rights and brutality, until you have had to walk streets named after men who stood against your people and stood FOR robbing them of freedom and opportunity and rights, until you have had to watch the news as a black mother fearful of her sons being out in a world that seemingly wants to do everything to hold them down…you wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand…but I’m at least trying to, and trying to do so in a respectful, empathetic manner…unlike some.

Cousin’s Wife: Well your not a minority your white and far as that is concerned fine I’m probably 80% american Indian so my ancestors were hunted,and slaughtered, made to starve and so on maybe the Indians should start raising hell about that.

Me: I never stated I was the minority Saleena, and your statement should give you all the more reason to be standing WITH me rather than against; you are absolutely right. They should be raising hell. And in fact are, it’s just not getting as much national attention. Perhaps that’s something you could be a part of if it truly bothers you. All it takes is one person. Are you associated with any tribes in our area? Do you continue to support and promote and advocate for your ancestors and their culture and traditions?

Do you suffer any discrimination as a result of your heritage? Do things you see in your community or on social media offend/bother you or others you know? Do you feel you or your native community suffer injustices as a result of that heritage? What are you doing about it?

If you say yes to any of these, if you feel a fire in your belly about any of this…then you should be able to use that to relate to our black brothers and sisters, rather than saying the things you have or claiming any “race card” is being pulled. How would you like it if I or someone else said “Oh, here we go again, with the Indian bullshit. Pulling the race card. Claiming this is their land.” rolling my eyes? How would you FEEL? Pissed? Hurt? Angry? Frustrated? Misunderstood? Sad? Confused? Welcome to the club! I’m sure Native Americans and African-Americans actually have a lot to share and learn from one another and grieve with one another about.

Cousin’s Wife: But the Indians don’t pull that card but every day you see on the news someone who did something illegal and gets busted and that’s the first thing brought up!They only did this cause I’m black and they are white and it’s all about the man holding me down!No they are holding them selves down but living off the system ,gang banging,and so on so I suppose that you applaud every time you see a video of our black brothers and sisters beating on a helpless white person right.

Me: http://www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2015/05/06/healing-the-wounds-of-racism-old-and.html

http://america.aljazeera.com/watch/shows/america-tonight/articles/2015/1/27/things-that-may-surprise-you-about-native-americans-police-encounters.html

It’s not a card to be pulled. That’s insulting to everyone to say that. It’s addressing legitimate, serious issues that many minorities face, not just black men and women, not just Native Americans. I’d like to see you tell these individuals they are pulling a Native American race card and see how far that gets you. And the hypocrisy in that statement when you just seemingly “pulled it” yourself. I’m done. If you find ignorance so blissful, fine. I won’t be a part of it though, and I certainly won’t continue to dilute serious issues with bullshit “I’m not a racist cause I have black friends” crap.

We’re dangerously dancing in “unfriend” territory.

Cousin’s Wife: Well if that’s what you choose because I have my opinions about certain things so be it no skin of my nose.

Me: Oh but it is, because you will continue to live in a very limited bubble of ignorance as a result. It’s YOUR choice.

Cousin: Seeya

 Daughter: OMG!! And adults say kids r the childish one!! Come on and just freakin grow up!!! IT WAS THE PAST!! ITS OVER!!! MOVE ON!!!!

it’s pretty sad that my dad can’t even change his profile picture without all the other adults on his freaking profile starting this big old argument or a rant I mean seriously. Can we stop acting childish for like five minutes and grow up.

Other Daughter: The flag was not racist in anyway. Everyone starting crap on here are being extremely childish. Slavery has been over for YEARS!! Everyone needs to suck it up and move on you’re all dwelling in the past and I feel sorry for you that you can not see how amazing the future can be. The people dwelling in the past are the ones holding us back from the future let’s move on and make the most of what we can. If you don’t like the fact like He has posted this and used his freedom to do so I suggest you delete him and take your negativity elsewhere.

Nicole the fact you just said my mom is ignorant for using freedom of speech makes you ignorant. And you are one keeping us from moving forward into the future. I hope you see that. And I hope you can move on in your life.

I also suggest you research the confederate flag.

Friend: I get so tired of the crying over racism crap. What are you doing to help it? Where are you volunteering? How many minority children have you adopted? Please shut the fuck up about how racism is alive and sad. I’m racist and I don’t give a shit. I’m not hateful ….I am not against all people….but I am racist. Im even racist against you white folk who sit on here bashing people over a flag you know nothing about. Piss off. Until you start adopting….and or volunteering in the “hoods” and “barrios” don’t preach to us how bad we are and how good you are. You wouldn’t make it 5 minutes with a poverty stricken gang related family trying to make them better members of society. Because truth is that requires work and something they aren’t willing to do. Until then…fly your flag proud my friends!

I’m sharing this because I not only want others to see that I am guilty of allowing myself to get worked up and bothered by others, of engaging in not the most constructive of discussions, of probably being a little hypocritical and not using the best words, and making rash decisions such as unfriending people because of what I perceive to be their own ignorance, but also…because these are the views and words and actions of people who are engaging in such discussions. This is what people think and feel; this is how we conduct ourselves. Whether I’m right (or wrong) or they’re right (or wrong)…these are the perspectives of your brothers and sisters of the world. This is how we are engaging and exchanging. I’m personally furious and disappointed and a little scared and lacking hope and faith as a result of this. I could easily keep going in that conversation but to what end? My goal and hope was to make them think twice, to see a different perspective…to believe what I believe. I’m not sure that is a good goal or even the right one, but that’s what most of us are hoping for: for others to see things the way we see them, to feel things we feel, to stand WITH us against the injustices we view as “wrong”. And instead of bringing people together, sometimes we just further divide them. It’s sad and it makes me sad that I was a part of that but…

The older I get, the less patience I have for what I perceive to be others lacking compassion, humanity, and tolerance. The older I get, the less time I want to waste on people I feel aren’t open-minded, progressive, or seeking growth. The older I get, the less bullshit I want to put up with, whatever I translate that “bullshit” to be. Perhaps this makes me what I speak out against: hypocritical, close-minded, stubborn, stuck in my ways…or whatever else. I don’t really know. I just know I wasn’t gaining anything good from that “connection” on social media, so I ended it. I was just becoming a little tea pot, all steamed up, and I’m finally mature enough (or am I?) to know when I truly need to walk away, so I did. And I’m glad I have that choice and right. I’m also a little glad I have the guts to stand up for what I believe, and even that they did as well, because regardless of whether or not we’re standing up for the same thing, we’re standing up for something, which means we care, and caring about anything is a step in the right direction, right? Ugh. Maybe. Or perhaps that’s just the optimist and “bleeding heart” in me trying to slap a silver lining on it.

Either way: I won’t just sit back and shut up. Sorry. Not my style. Much love ❤

The Wonkavator of love and life and choices…

So I came across this Buzzfeed article today in my Facebook feed:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/skarlan/queer-girls-have-a-message-for-straight-girls-fawning-over-r?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpgp#.nvVNQzQlb

I commented “I’ve always found it interesting the way us bisexuals are marginalized or treated as if we are somehow insulting homosexuality, as well as how people trivialize it as us suddenly “choosing” to be so. For some, it’s not a fad or experimental phase in college. For some, we are born bisexual just as much as those who are born hetero or gay; the whole concept is that we can’t choose who we love or are attracted to, we simply are. I have no concept of “preference” simply because my attraction is based off of so much more than hair or skin or body type or genitalia. Some don’t seem to understand or accept that in others, some don’t even understand, accept, or realize it about themselves…much like homosexuals who eventually decide to “come out”. The fact that hetero women are finding themselves confused by their feelings toward Ruby Rose, in my opinion, is incredibly HELPFUL and progressive and supportive of the LGBTQ community. It will open the eyes of so many who otherwise may not have understood those feelings or perceptions or practices. It may also encourage some to embrace a side of themselves they have never been comfortable or open to embracing. My point: this is GOOD. And I’m led to ask: why can’t a group who has faced so much bigotry and scrutiny and discrimination show some empathy and not act out the same negativity on others?! Not cool if you ask me. Let’s continue to support EVERYONE being free to be who they are and love who they want…”

I’ve only ever really openly stated that I consider myself bisexual to a select few, definitely not to people I haven’t felt comfortable saying that to or anyone that didn’t already know; in part because I kind of hate labels and think it’s silly, but also because there IS that fear of judgement and rejection and I think this article represents that all pretty well. While it’s becoming more and more acceptable and understood to say “I’m a girl and I like boys” or “I’m a girl and I like girls”, people don’t seem to understand “I’m a girl and I like both”; straight people OR gay people. Some seem to think I’m confused or uncertain or attention seeking or greedy or…any number of other inaccurate things. Others seem to think I simply “choose” to be attracted to girls for the fun of it since I’m married to a man when in reality: I could have easily ended up married to a woman…or someone of color, or someone twice my age…because it isn’t as easy as saying “I’m into blondes”.

I’m 32 years old. I’ve not just kissed a woman, but been with one in every sense, and am not at all confused by that. I’ve also not just kissed a man, but been with one in every sense, and am not at all confused by that either. I believe attraction and love are chemical, psychological, magical things that draw us to certain people, and we have no choice in the matter…only whether or not we pursue or engage it. This isn’t a joke or for fun, this is me and my heart and my being. One of my favorite musical artists of all time is Brother Ali, a Caucasian, albino, legally blind, Islamic hip hop artist who not only struggled with being bullied by his peers as a result of his unique appearance, but also found himself more comfortable with members of the African American community. His song ‘Daylight’ challenges the labels we put on one another and our own ways of defining ourselves, at one point saying “Your ears might help you to see, fuck hearing me I need you to feel like me”. This song, OY, his WORDS! Listen to it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AQJMjF6uco. The entire theme is that others can try to box us into whatever mold they want to, but regardless, we know who and what we are, and really, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what others see, it’s what we feel about one another. That’s how I feel about sexuality. “Race is just a made up thing I don’t believe in”, well so is a defined sexuality. If we aren’t hurting anyone, and everyone is participating consensually, and are happy and healthy, what difference does it make to you or anyone else? Especially if we want to be free to love the way we love, who are we to try to put parameters on anyone elses love? It just makes no sense to get all worked up about me getting all worked up about Ruby Rose. I’m gonna get worked up by whomever I want. So just relax and save yourself the worry and panty bunching.

And while I shouldn’t have to explain, I’m going to just to save some the speculation who probably assume my husband and I have wild sex parties with random girls and he’s getting to fulfill “every man’s fantasy” of two chicks at the same time every other weekend…I’m in a monogamous relationship, sorry to burst your naughty little bubbles. But as I said, if some of you ARE in open relationships and getting down with multiples, whatever floats your boat. I’m too jealous and territorial for that business, so have fun for the rest of us 😉 I’ll stick to my “Blue is the Warmest Color” highlights and OITNB girl crushing, thankyouverymuch.

Anyway, there it is, so you don’t read it in the comment section of a Buzzfeed article and scratch your head, especially since I’m usually a pretty big supporter of being raw and real and sharing perspectives. I’m a lover and admirer of all who tickle my fancy, whatever my fancy may be. And I’m a HUGE advocate for others to be able to be and do the same. YOLO people, I know we love to hate it but really, “You only live once”, so why worry about stuff that doesn’t effect us and why prevent yourself from living and loving to the fullest?! If you are a boy who likes boys, great. If you are a girl who likes girls, great. If you are a boy who likes girls, or a girl who likes boys, or you like boys and girls…great. G-R-E-A-T!!! Do THAT! BE that! Take the advice of all those pretty little Pinterest memes that say “Live. Laugh. Love.” It’s good advice, we all give it, so let’s all practice what we preach, eh?

Always forward ❤

THIS and THAT and US and WE…

I am not a celebrity, nor a congress woman, nor a member of the school board or city council, nor an author or famous public speaker. I’ve never been a part of the Peace Corps, although I imagine I would have loved it and sometimes wish I had. I’ve never been on any mission trips, although I imagine I would have loved those too and also wish I had. I don’t run any charitable organizations or fundraisers, nor am I able to make major contributions to those I would like to. I’m not a doctor or rocket scientist or working on a cure for Cancer. But I AM: a human being, a woman, a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a niece, a cousin, a friend, a co-worker, an employee, Caucasian, an atheist, and so many other things I can’t even fathom writing them all out.

I get up every morning to the sound of my husband’s cell phone alarm, and feel him crawl out of bed, and watch as the bathroom light comes on, and listen for him to turn on the shower to queue me to rise as well.

I stumble down stairs with stiff ankles with my dog waiting at the bottom for me to coo “good morning handsome” and rub his head and pat his bottom. I fix my family breakfast and prepare my and my husbands lunches. I make coffee and pick just the right mug to serve it in because I believe his Ironman mug is a good reminder of how awesome he is and a good way to start the day. I serve him his breakfast with a kiss behind his ear and sniff of his scruff. I sit beside him and watch his silly videos and read his silly memes.

I take my dog outside and stand there talking to the birds while he poops and tell him what a good poop he took, then guide him inside to fill his bowls with food and water.

I start the shower for my 6 year old and wake her with tummy and back rubs and little ear kisses and outline her little morning routine.

I kiss my dog and tell him I love him and to have a good day before we leave, I do the same with my daughter when I drop her off, and the same with my husband when he walks out the door each morning.

Then I go to work and continue to do all the stuff I do that touches all these little people and causes all these little reactions and creates all these little chains of events…and little ol’ Nicole is somehow making a difference, as are all the other little people that I come into contact with: my husband, my dog, my daughter, the lady at the stop light next to me, the guy on the corner, my co-workers, the cafeteria employees; they too are making a difference in someone’s day and life simply by getting out of bed that morning.

And we have this thing called Facebook which allows us to connect with friends, and family, and even strangers, from all across the world; we post and share and comment and discuss. Our words are little ripples in the water, dominoes clumsily colliding causing a chain reaction among us all. We are not as small or insignificant as we think, nor as powerless. I have come to realize that is not something to take so lightly.

So when I read articles or see posts that hit me square in the feels and tug at my heart and make my brain buzz, I share them and I talk about them and I speak my own truth and throw out my own perspective. I listen to/read the perspectives of others and mull on them. Sometimes I agree, sometimes I disagree; sometimes this frustrates me, and sometimes it fills me with so much goodness I could burst. Regardless: I am different and changed and have somehow grown as a result. This is that power and bigness I was speaking about. This is why and how we are ALL significant and important and vital to change and moving forward and progressing.

Sometimes I get the feeling people are overwhelmed by my posts and the things I discuss or share and the passion in my words. Sometimes I get the feeling people have a very skewed view or perception of who I truly am. I imagine there are times they think I must not be any fun or have any kind of sense of humor, and that I only wallow in the hardships and struggles of the world. Sometimes I think they take one snippet of me and use it to define the rest. That bothers me for a minute and then I usually shrug it off because I guess I do reserve “fun” and “carefree” Nicole for those who TRULY know and love me, and I guess if they want to judge all of me by a tiny part, that’s on them, I’ve probably been guilty of doing the same. The thing is, I’m not necessarily posting for people to KNOW or form an opinion about ME…I post in hopes my words being tossed out like a skipping stone do more than just sink to the bottom of their thought pools, and instead skip across, causing big ripples that sputter out across the water colliding with others, and causing the calm waters to sparkle and flutter. That’s what my intent is. It’s not to impress or to win anything or to act as if I know it all: it’s to inspire critical thinking. I feel like that might be part of my “purpose”; I think that’s part of ALL of our overall purpose: to affect in one POSITIVE way or another.

I will admit: I am flawed and imperfect. I can be judgmental and hypocritical. I am stubborn and sometimes selfish and can’t always see it. I have a temper and don’t always think logically or rationally. I am incredibly sensitive and don’t always take criticism or authority well. I am sometimes a disher outer and not a taker. I can get impatient and overwhelmed and flustered. I pee in the shower. I pick my nose when I drive and then see others doing it and cringe. I sometimes wear my jeans 2 or 3 times before washing them. I have littered and stolen and made racial slurs and gotten so drunk in my past I’ve made a complete ass of myself…and I’m ashamed of it. I cuss and still smoke the occasional cigarette when out with friends and watch pimple popping videos with my husband. Again, whether I convey it well or not: I KNOW I’m not perfect, that I don’t KNOW it all, or have it all figured out.

But I own all of that. I’m not necessarily proud of it, and like I said, I don’t always see it right away, but…I own it. I also do my best to use it all as fuel to better myself; to grow and improve a little more each day, and to also be more forgiving, understanding, and accepting of others. Who am I to make the “ack” face at booger nose Joe over there at the stop light digging for gold when I’ve found myself trying to clear my own nasal cavity while making the commute home?! The more I see my own weaknesses and flaws and hold myself accountable for my mistakes, the less I see in others. The more I try to turn my struggles and hardships into a positive, the more strength and admiration and respect I gain from those of others.

Some people are really good at finding their purpose and putting to action ways to use that to theirs and others’ best advantage and for the greater good; some people can focus on that one thing, master it, and share it with the world. I have always struggled with these things because I am so sensitive and easily overwhelmed and affected by everything…I want to fix and experience and DO everything. I can’t hone in on just one line of work or one goal all that easily; sometimes I can’t even hone in on one line of thought. I am sure I have some form of ADD or ADHD or OCD and was just never diagnosed. I imagine in a former life I was a free loving, commune living hippie with a husband and wives and little beautiful multi-racial children running about naked 😉 I’ve always seen this as my Achilles heal or a weakness but…am starting to think maybe that’s part of my sparkle and purpose. Maybe my inability to focus on one thing allows me to spread myself out and do a LOT of things and in turn meet a LOT of people and experience a LOT of stuff?! Maybe my open mind and heart are opening little doors in life I can’t see or am not aware of. Maybe I’m meant to be flighty and emotional and unfocused. Maybe I just feel I can never change and am simply trying to justify it and rationalize some way to put a positive spin on it 😉 Who knows.

Regardless, I’m kind of tired of allowing my thoughts and insecurities to muffle my voice and blot out my light and dull my sparkle. I think it’s great to worry to an extent about how you are perceived because it’s an extension of caring about others feelings and respecting them and their beliefs…but I don’t think it should rob you of who you are or hold you back from discovering that. I also just think: we ALL want to be heard, we ALL want our chance to share our perspectives and stories, and we ALL just want a chance to feel loved and respected and accepted. So I’ve got to give MYSELF that chance by not being afraid to have a voice and leave a foot print. I’ve got to keep getting up in the morning and being a special part of someone elses day so that someone else is inspired to get up themselves and be a special part of mine…because someone is always watching, and someone is always being inspired in some tiny way.

So I’m going to keep liking and sharing and posting and commenting on whatever my little heart wants, and I’m going to keep striving to grow and improve and be a better human being. I’m going to try really hard to not worry so much about what others think of me, but the fact that what I’m saying is making them think at all…because THAT is the real goal. You don’t always have to agree with me or like me, I would just really appreciate if you’d at least listen. I’m also going to keep giving what little I have and appreciate that “every little bit counts” because it really does, and I’m going to try to treat MYSELF, as well as others, as I would wish to be treated, and take more of my own advice because it’s pretty good sometimes…and I should be able to take what I dish out 🙂 I’m going to try to be and do more of what I love, and less of what I hate. And I hope you read this and do that for yourself. I also hope we can all work a little harder on being more patient and respectful and empathetic. Really, forget the other stuff and focus on the empathy because the others will come with it. Empathy is the answer to all our problems. Empathy is where it’s at…we need to be THERE.

I am vulnerable so you can be too and so we can learn from and grow WITH one another. I truly feel THAT is how THIS works 🙂 It’s part of the bigger, grander, broader, more OPEN picture.

Much love and always forward.

Public service in the form of being a total, hot, mess…

I think my greatest gift to myself this year (aside from making more mindful choices of what websites I visit, books I read, and pages I follow on social media) has been to work on my relationship with my family by letting go of some of my hard feelings, recognizing not everything they do is personal, and to love a little more selflessly (myself and others).

I have had some epic struggles in my relationships with my father and brother. We have been through some shit, to say the least. We have endured so much, not just independently but as a family; from divorce to addiction to prison, and at times it has been hard to remain tethered in the rough tides of life. We are a lot alike, yet so drastically different all at once that it can be extremely difficult to communicate, and we are all so imperfectly perfect that we aren’t always understanding and forgiving of that, of ourselves or one another. But the thing I tend to lose sight of in the storm of all of those emotions and hard feelings is: we love each other an awful lot; we always have, we always will, and that should supersede everything else.

Losing my mother taught me so much, about myself, about her, about life, and that loss has been a bittersweet gift in the sense that I keep learning from it, every single day. Most recently I’ve learned that it’s much better to focus on the positive: whether it be a memory, a feeling, a lesson…there is and always will be a silver lining to focus on and draw strength from. She and I were the definition of tumultuous, again, each independently and even more so together; I used to see this as a horrible flaw and now see it as a wonderful blessing…our strong personalities and passions and love. I used to have a hard time seeming to draw mainly from the dark times or painful memories; in fact, it was really hard at some points to even think of a happy time because the hard was just so hard, and my heart was just so heavy. But depression and pain are like the sun, and the deeper you stare into them the blinder you get and eventually it’s going to burn. I’m learning it’s so much better to focus on the good, even if it initially stems from the bad. If I start to think of a rough time, instead of focusing on the drowning, I focus on how we got our heads back up out of the water. If the image of my mother that morning comes into my mind, whether in a dream or in a fleeting thought, I redirect my thoughts to the image of her sitting Indian style on her bed, in her silky nightgown laughing with her crooked little smile. That image leaves a bigger lump in my throat than the previous one…a happy, achey, lovey lump…because THAT is my mama.

Just last week I found out my older brothers father, Bud, has been moved to Hospice because Cancer is an asshole who has no heart or soul and needs someone to kick it’s fucking ass. This was my mother’s first husband; she got pregnant with my brother at 15, they got married, and suffice to say having a baby, much less a premature one with club feet and missing fingers at 16, was too much and they didn’t make it 6 months. This has been hard for everyone involved, then, now, and probably for the rest of their lives. But my brother and his father have been trying to connect and I thought it was important to go see him; not only in support of my strong, hilarious, amazing older brother, but also on behalf of my mama who I know still loved Buddy and would have been there herself in a second. I was nervous going on my own, but it turned out to be a really great visit; one I left realizing part of where my brother got his humor from, and what my mother saw in this weathered man she fell in love with so long ago. Even worn down by this epic disease, he was making jokes about the brown stain on his sheets up by his pillow and assuring me it was not poo, he had in fact fallen asleep with a chocolate bar in is hands. He, myself, his mother and sister-in-law, and the nurses all continued to laugh because it was just too funny: the irony of the stain and his situation, his good humor through it all, and poop, because it’s always funny. His eyes were kind, he was straight forward and open in his words, and he was a good hugger 🙂 I wish I could have mustered the courage to show him the photo of my mother holding a wittle baby Chad that I carry in my wallet because I think he would have appreciated it but…I also didn’t want to upset him, in the case that it would. I wish I could have asked what my mother was like so long ago, what made him love her, what made him still care for her even through her addiction and violent temper, but again, I didn’t want to upset him, in the case that it would. But even without asking, I think I was able to appreciate that: my mother was a special woman who was loved, cared for, and admired by many, regardless of her demons, and that says something about her. To me it says: she was one tough broad, one hell of a lover, and had an incredible sparkle that out-shined any darkness that clouded her days 😉 I’m sure the same can be said for Buddy…I hope he gets to hear that before that sonofabitch Cancer robs him of it.

I’ve been taking all of this into account a lot lately when addressing the achey I feel at times with my father and brother. Instead of focusing so much on the hard times, (which I’m learning to laugh about and grow from because really, what else can ya do?!), I focus on what I love most about them and what keeps me trying…because I wouldn’t be trying so damn hard despite feeling so damn jaded at times if I didn’t love them, nor would they me.

My daddy came over a month or so ago for he and my brothers’ birthdays (since they are both in the same month and we rarely all get together at the same place and time). Serving up cake, I couldn’t help but admire my dads rough, dirty hands. As a little girl they always fascinated me; I loved to watch him work on his cars or tinker with projects around the house because it was what he did best and he has incredible patience when it comes to focusing on and doing a job right the first time. I once took nail polish remover to my cabbage patch dolls left eye in an effort to clean off marker or polish, instead leaving her with one pretty blue right eye and a flesh colored blank spot where the other had been. He sat for over an hour, meticulously coloring in her missing eye with whiteout, and a blue and black ink pen. When I was about 5 he spent four or more hours putting together a Barbie Dream House he had bought me; carefully applying all the decals/stickers, arranging the furniture, and setting out all the dishes and fake muffins and little accessories just-so. I would accompany him on trips to the junk yard and watch him take things apart, myself being given a screw driver or wrench to conduct my own “tinkering”. I admired those hands; they defined his strength and hard work and were like a badge of honor. As a young woman they are the one thing I clearly remember from my mothers funeral, which is otherwise a haze, because they held my own smaller, delicate hands throughout the entire service and were a source of great comfort on one of the worst days of my life. I wouldn’t have made it through that funeral without those hands, with the grease and dirt permanently imbedded in his fingernails or the calluses so thick they form little mountains on his palms. My father is a complicated man with a lot of his own demons and issues, just like the rest of us, but he is incredibly sensitive and softhearted, and he is one hell of a hard worker; always has been, always will be. I’m proud of him because even with a felony under his belt, he has managed to maintain a job with the city working in the Parks and Recreation department for over a decade, and was back to work after his heart attack as soon as the doctor would sign off on it (if he even waited for that). He will help anyone out in need whether it be repairing their car or bailing them out of jail; I’m sure he has literally taken the shirt off his back for a friend or two. He is still great friends with his ex-wife, my first step-mother, and even great friends with her now husband; spending evenings at their house helping Cory complete little honey-do projects, more than likely with a glass of whiskey in hand 😉 He was still good friends with my mother and her boyfriend when she passed away; another thing I admire about my parents: their ability to adapt to a modern family and recover from even the ugliest of breakups. They loved and cared for each other despite it all, they recognized we’re all human, we all have our bullshit, and they always found a way to let that win. My father has been terrible at always showing up or always following through, but when he does he is there with his heart out, totally exposed, and ready to dig in and put in the work. When mom was going through her really bad drug phase, Dad would come get me and take me to spend the weekends or summer in Winterset with my step-mother and siblings. When mom died he was there almost every day, calling and popping in. When I went through a horrible breakup and time of self-discovery/recovery he was there to make sure I kept my head above water and let me wallow. He has been terrible at being there for every little thing but…he makes sure he’s there when it really, really counts, and I have to give him that; I wouldn’t have made it through some things without his big shoulder to cry on, or rough hands to hold. And despite his shortcomings (a road rage that rivals any other, and a terrible case of dirty old man syndrome that I’m sure is just going to get worse), I love him dearly; he is my daddy.

I go through these same thoughts with my brother: recognizing all the shit he has been through, what has probably added on to all his baggage and struggles, and appreciating the amazing person he is in spite of it all. I adore my big brother. I always have and always will. These are gifts to me, to be able to celebrate him; all of him.

I need my family as much as they need me; we need each other. And regardless of what paths we take or choices we make or shit we go through: we speak each others language; we are all yellow canary’s flitting about the coal mines. My brother and father are two of the most sensitive men I know, and it’s both their greatest strength and their greatest weakness…and I am the same, and that is neat. And I can either waste the rest of my time on this Earth, blessed to have them on it with me, worrying about the past and the hardships and trying to fix everything and everyone, waiting for them to change and being hurt when that doesn’t happen OR just…loving one another, appreciating one another, laughing at and with one another, as we are. I can keep taking who they are, and who they always will be, personally, as if their faults are some spear aimed directly at hurting me OR accepting, this is WHO THEY ARE, this is WHO THEY ALWAYS WILL BE…and it IS NOT personal, they, much like many of us, are just humans lugging around all their bullshit, trying to get by. Look at me and all my bags of bullshit! Who do I think I’m fooling?! They’re putting up with just as much crap from me as I’m sure I am them lol…it’s just different “crap”.

Now, I can’t say I have it all figured out or that I’m always going to remain so hopeful and forgiving and positive, toward my family or myself or anyone for that matter, but…it’s better; this gift of selectively holding on to this and letting go of that, and it has helped tremendously. My bags are a little lighter and a little easier to lug around; I’m hoping theirs are as well as a result of it. And I don’t feel so lonely. Sometimes, when I’m with my husband and his family, I am overwhelmed by loneliness because no matter how much time or love is there…it’s not the same as being with your own people who share the same history and ways and speak the same language…and sometimes that is really difficult to navigate, and even more difficult to express. I imagine my brother and father struggle with the same thing, I get that feeling from them now and again…and it’s really nice to know we share that and are trying to change that together. It’s a bit of selfish and selfless all at once; selfishly missing them and not wanting to be alone, selflessly loving them and taking them as they are…hoping they will return the favor for me…because I’m a mess, I know that.

Sigh. I really miss my mama. And there is so much lately that I really wish I could talk to her about and ask her. I wish I could share articles with her about bathing suit bodies, burn her the Bon Iver CD I’m still obsessed with and see what she thinks, ask her how much more of a stinker I was than Cadence when I was little and how she muddled through, or what her recipe for beef stew is again because I know I’m never going to get it right. Who was her favorite of all her lovers/boyfriends? When did she feel the strongest and most beautiful? How did she get through Chad’s physical therapy at 16 or being raped?! What does SHE think of this whole crop top day movement? I constantly worry I never gave her the credit or patience she deserved, nor appreciated her dedication to survive and push on despite it all. I wish she had gotten the chance to meet 32 year old Nicole, who is more mature, more patient and understanding, who would look at her with softer, more forgiving eyes and say “Jesus Christ, mama. You’re a fucking warrior.” Cause she was…she is. And so are my father and brother, and me…and you 🙂 You’re a fucking warrior…tell yourself that, and be sure to tell someone you love that too…because we all need to hear it and we should never wait until it’s too late.

The greatest gift I’ve given myself this year is forgiveness and love and the acceptance that we are ALL messed up, we are ALL struggling, and we ALL just want someone to be there beside us when the load gets really heavy, even if we still have to carry it ourselves, which we do, the company is enough.

I read this quote today from one of my favorite women:

‘Our imperfections are our SERVICE!!! A messy house, a few extra pounds, a complete and total inability to prepare food—IT’S OUR CHARITY WORK! You are WELCOME, world!!!!! We should rest after all this sacrificial and valorous public imperfection. Jeez. We are basically SAINTS.”

A message to my fellow mommies and friends and humans on this bright Monday morning: “That is all. I love you. Now go forth and be a little jacked up. IT HEALS.’

So what she said: “go forth and be a little jacked up. It heals.” And might I add: be forgiving, of yourself and others, for their jacked upedness; help us get through it because we’re all just trying here. Always forward ❤