Category Archives: Life Bits
Confidence Boost
As a self-
professed and unabashed “Book Geek” I admit that I find myself usually most comfortable and passionate when speaking about books, otherwise I find I am severely lacking self-confidence or self-assurance, and grapple with being a severe introvert. Dealing with most social situations always revs up my anxiety level to unprecedented levels. Worry overtakes me, and I find any relaxation, or enjoyment, hard to muster. It isn’t so much that I dislike being in a social situation, it is more that my concerns and insecurities far outweigh any ease I try to feign. I do a little better one on one, but when surrounded by a larger group, it isn’t pretty. It is an unease of how to fit in, where to place myself, what to contribute that hinders my bravery. Oh, certainly the adage of “be yourself” comes to mind, but it is hard advice when you fear people won’t like the “yourself” you are. There are people I see so at ease when sharing with a group, leading a group, etc. and I envy that.
In my bookclub I recently had to take the reigns in our discussion and felt pretty useless, even though it was about a book. I am far better at sharing my thoughts about the current book when I don’t have to worry about leading, otherwise I am a bundle of nerves. Even when I am just sharing I am questioning myself; am I talking too much, making an absurd point, being rude! Recently, when I went to hang out at a good friend and fellow blogger KitchenKM’s game night, relaxing wasn’t so easy, especially early on. I felt awkward and kind of clammed up. Then as we played the game, I think I got kind of snippy when I had to be silly in the game that was meant to be fun and easy going. I feel like a pretty uncoordinated and unimpressive figure to begin with, and acting silly or uninhibited just makes that even worse for me, even when it should be fun or lighthearted. Overall I had fun, but I know I wasn’t at my best or socially graceful. It is a constant battle between wanting to be accepted and be more social, and a fear of failing and just not measuring up or fitting in. These thoughts are hard to ignore, it is just a given that I will be nervous, clumsy, and awkward. Confidence never has been, and most likely never will be my strong suit, I just can’t seem to find my size.
K
Being Conservative, Politics, and Friends DO NOT MIX
After recently getting into a somewhat heavy political discussion with a friend I realize that politics, like religion, is best not discussed with friends when your opinions diverge from a common point of view. I particularly feel that when falling on the conservative side of the debate one better keep their mouth shut. I don’t think anyone necessarily means to make a person feel that way, but I have felt, at least in my experience, that the liberal view comes like an attack and not getting into it is probably best. I don’t feel I am a particularly judgmental person, but somehow my conservative leanings need to be questioned, dissected, and smacked around. It’s not that I don’t have an answer, or reason for my beliefs, it is just that the opposing view can’t seem to shake that somehow my opinion differs, and that I am not bringing the Western World down by not agreeing. I have never questioned and argued with someone the way that I have been interrogated before, this was far from the first time it has happened or the only person who has placed me in the hot seat. Take for example liberal celebrities that take award show moments to wax political, yes, it is often liberals who choose those moments for browbeating and chest-thumping their view, and their causes. I don’t know why liberals tend to be louder, and more aggressive, but as a conservative you cannot afford to be loud or aggressive it often seems, and must apologize for your views, because it is obviously wrong, crazy, and mixed-up . So, I conclude it is best to keep politics out of friendships, it just makes things more peaceful, despite political debate not being a bad thing, it just saves on frustration.
K
Expectations of Thirtysomethings
As I endure celebrate another birthday in what I am affectionately calling “The Dirty 30s” I realize the expectations placed on a woman in her 30s. As an unmarried, unattached woman of a certain age I do face particular expectations from people. It sometimes feels I am expected to be married with children and living a certain life. That is all well and good, but my life hasn’t taken that path for whatever reason, and I am becoming increasingly okay with that. I am making the most of my life, it is my life to live after all. I sadly have been hard on myself when I feel I am not measuring up, and that is something I resolve to stop. Comparing myself to others is only going to frustrate me, and letting others dictate the lens I view myself through is an exercise in futility. Are there things I wish I could make different, yes, but I can’t dwell on what isn’t, it is embracing what is that is what is important and the best way to live. So as I settle in with another candle on the birthday cake, that is adding more and more candles too fast now for my taste, I am learning to be okay with who I am and where I am at, no matter what anyone else wants or expects of me. So it is with great fanfare I wish myself a Happy Birthday in my Dirty 30s ;0)
K
Parents
Since today is Mother’s Day I have been thinking a great deal about family, parents in particular. 
A dear friend of mine recently lost her mother, and the loss she has experienced seems completely overwhelming and indescribable. Seeing what she is going through got me wondering about mother/daughter relationships. Recalling what my parents went through when the lost their mothers was a sobering experience, despite the years removed from those losses. Any parent/child relationship is going to be different and unique, even among siblings and their parents. The capacity to love is something that words really can never truly express adequately.
I have heard that mothers love their child before they even give birth, while fathers don’t feel the same connection until the child is actually born. Obviously, the child as an infant needs the parent, and the bond that needs to form is delicate and amazing to watch. As childhood passes, it seems to change and grow with the child needing the parent less and less, so they think. It seems once the parent is sick, or has passed, the need for the parent/child bond becomes more evident and the loss can be shattering to the spirit.
The closest I came to learning how devastating losing a parent could potentially be was in 2005 when my father had a quadruple bypass. He recovered and has been okay since, but the time we waited from December 2004 until his surgery in early January 2005 gave me time to think about what could go wrong. The day of his surgery was a blur, I seemed to live it but somehow not really feel it. Time that day did not move, and it was one of the longest days of my life. I still remember the numb feeling of seeing my father intubated, and post-op. It will never rank as a memory I want to maintain, since the fear became all to real. It is a close as I ever want to come for a very long time and has made me appreciate every moment.
For as much as a parent can drive a child crazy when the teenage years start and beyond, and vice versa, it seems one is never truly a grown up. I don’t truly believe we fill that “grown-up” roll until our parents are gone. Despite living a life of our own, needing a parent never quite seems to end.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the Moms out there!
K
Turner Point
When I was about 11 years old I got sick with a bad cold or flu. At the same time I had also developed a goiter. My eyes protruded and my neck had a tire like bulge. The doctor ran some tests and we discovered I had a thyroid condition. It would require daily medication and was easy enough to treat. However, I also wasn’t growing. At the time I was hovering well below 5′, despite my parents being taller than average. My dad is 6′ and my mom is 5’8″. Further tests lead to a more devastating diagnosis of Turner Syndrome (TS). Essentially I was born missing one of the two X chromosomes every girl and woman has. This leads to short stature, infertility, and a variety of other possible complications. This is a rare condition affecting 1 out of 2,000 to 5,000 female births, and only about 1% to 2% of embryos with this condition are actually born. With this diagnosis my life became a regular series of doctors appointments as I was growing up. I was placed on a protocol by my specialist, and as her oldest patient I was a test subject for her as well. This protocol consisted of Human Growth Hormone (HGH) and Estrogen Replacement Therapy. I had a sonogram of my kidneys to make sure they were formed correctly. I regularly got x-rays to see how my bones were fusing. This was certainly a difficult thing to face during adolescence, when a child may already feel different, to have a genetic test confirm, indeed you are quite different. I could get angry at God for giving me this to deal with, but I never have. I have the sense that I am lucky to have been given the life I was, despite it’s imperfections. It is part of my life, and something I have to deal with on a regular basis. I will never have a child of my own, and can only get pregnant using a donor egg and IVF. Adoption is something I have tossed around, and the idea of giving a child a home and family that needs one seems to be the route I would feel comfortable taking. Why try to crate a child when I would face a more than risky pregnancy, why not find that child who needs me? I feel that might be my purpose if I am to become a mother. I am at risk for heart issues, diabetes, eye problems, osteoporosis, hearing loss, just to name a few. Since there are limited women and girls with this condition to study, it isn’t easy for doctors to know with certainty what issues a TS patient will face as they age. I did reports on the condition in school to learn more, and had for a time thought I wanted to go into the field of medicine specializing in this and similar conditions. My hope was to give assistance to others facing what I had faced. Although I realized quickly my squeamishness would not be conducive to a career in medicine. Besides and physical issues, there are the psychological issues that go with a genetic condition. Dealing with infertility from such a young age is not easy. It certainly sets a TS teenage girl apart from her peers. Feeling like you don’t quite measure up to society standards is never an easy thing to deal with, and knowing how you don’t measure up doesn’t make it any more palatable. It isn’t that TS makes a girl or woman masculine, but you certainly don’t feel like you are quite an average woman. It is hard to feel like you can be accepted for who you are, when you feel so apart from the average. Fortunately I am taller than the average TS woman, although this brings me to the conundrum of sharing TS with them, but somehow being different from them. I feel that I can’t even fit in with TS right somehow, because I tower over them, so sometimes I feel where do I really fit in? Where can I be accepted? Hard things to wrap my head around. Yes, every woman has her body issues, but this condition is so linked to your womanhood, accepting yourself is not without difficulty. This diagnosis may not have been the most devastating by some standards, but it certainly changed how my life would play out. I have faced unique challenges, and will most likely continue to do so for the rest of my life.
K
Pen and Sword
My love of books and reading, along with my deep desire to write has made me think about the power of the written word. The power an author has in their words placed on the page is tremendous to behold. Authors take the reader in, hopefully if they have great skill, and essentially share their “world” with the reader. Whether it is fiction or nonfiction, the author is the ultimate creator of what the reader experiences. The phrase the pen is mightier than the sword comes to mind. Seeing just how much damage a scathing article can have on someone, or how deeply people come to love characters in a favorite novel or series, makes it apparent how deeply we connect with the written word. I have a friend and real blogging maven, who I am always amazed by how she can share an experience, making it come alive somehow on the page. There is something compelling about sharing one’s emotions and thoughts on the page, because somehow in writing it down, the emotions behind it feel stronger or more visceral. That also allows some sense that those feelings or emotions have been worked through in a more concrete manner. Giving expression to what rages inside feels necessary somehow, and the pen seems the most expedient way of going about expressing emotions, and working through something nagging at the mind.
K
Just Crusin’ and Snoozin’
Tuesday we were in Belize, not my favorite place in the end. First of all you have to get on a small boat to get to the port, and I didn’t like that part at all. The port itself was not much to write home about. It was a bit scary, and venturing out beyond the port didn’t happen. That night though, the turbulence started . . .
Another thing that was special on this trip, were the towel animals left in the room. I don’t know what it was, but I got a kick out of the different animals on the bed every night. I even took the towel animal making class they offered on the last day, and bought a book on how to make them. 
Where were you on 09/11/01 . . .
I was heading to the University of Tampa for class and work. Heard about the first plane on sports talk radio that my Dad had on. No one was fully aware it was an attack at that level yet. Class of course was cancelled, and my mind was reeling as I learned a second plane had hit. In the Honors Program Lounge a group of us watched the TV coverage, I felt like I was watching disaster movie and not real life. Later in the Dean’s Office where I worked I just sat there numb and in horrified disbelief, and again witnessed more TV coverage when they brought in a small TV. I just sat there shuffling papers, really not knowing what to do with myself and unable to focus on much. When I got home my Dad and I continued watching the coverage, it was just something I couldn’t shake myself from at that point. My Mom got home later that night and we watched President Bush address the nation. I went to bed feeling the shock, disbelief, fear, anger, etc. I am sure the whole nation felt that day. Essentially, I remember feeling numb and disconnected somewhat that whole day, as if I wasn’t watching or a part of this real horrific event, it was too shocking and too unbelievable to think it was actually happening. And now as I reflect ten years later on 9/11/11, I still recall that numbness, shock, anger, etc. like it was yesterday. Never forget and God Bless America!!
K
krissyandthecity 