Category: Contemplations on Life

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Reflections on 63 Years Young

Another day. Another year. Time passes so quickly. I have learned to cherish every day.

While I still read the occasional self-discovery book (Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving, Pete Walker, my latest read and a good one), I do feel just about there. And where is there, anyway? Well, it’s happy, as defined by me, myself and I. Settled. Accepting. Peaceful. And ever so grateful.

For the most part, I have forgiven my parents. It certainly became much easier after they passed, although it still took years. They did what they could while juggling their demons, which were many, and it wasn’t all bad – after all, here I am. My journey of self-discovery and confidence wouldn’t have ended in such a good place if I hadn’t traveled through those years. While I still flashback, with sadness and anger, the frequency decreases all the time. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that – I’m sure I’ve said that before. And current life? It may not be chock full of exciting adventures and new things, but it is ever so comfortable, and I love it. My house – my garden – a sanctuary where I feel safe, secure, and in love with the world. Every day there is something to marvel at – a crocus, a bird, a sunset. My partner of 21 years today, someone who knows and understands me better than anyone ever has – such a gift to learn how to share. My daughter – a newer and much improved version of me – who has created a beautiful family herself and who continually makes me so deeply proud. My circle of friends and family who continually reaffirm that there are really nice people out there in the world. My hobbies which make me both fulfilled and happy.

Life is short, yes, but I’m learning not to fret about endings, and to revel in the moment (just checked the Oxford definition, got rid of the drinking, but let’s dance), to learn to relax and to stop worrying about things over which I have no control. It is what it is, and it’s pretty good if you allow it to be.

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I Remember

My parents screaming at each other so loudly that the cops came.

                My ‘other’ dad taking me out to a German bakery for a piece of marzipan.

Crying in my bedroom until I was sick to my stomach.

                My 6th grade Latin teacher always making sure to ask me how I was doing every day at school.

Being the only girl in my class who couldn’t afford a new dress for the junior high dance.

                The lady who ran Bible Study giving me a hug when I walked in.

Being so embarrassed by my family I never once had a friend over to spend the night.

                Sitting at a friend’s dinner table and being included in the conversation.

Having a boyfriend who thought it was funny to throw bullfrogs into the fire.

                Having a male friend who called to check on me to make sure I was okay.

Getting dressed under the bedcovers since we had no heat and the inside temperature was just above freezing.

                My aunt (who had nothing) sending me $5.00 to help.

My father borrowing the $5.00 to buy cigarettes.

                My older girlfriend offering her home as a safe haven anytime I needed.

My mother trying to stab my father with scissors.

                My French teacher seeking me out to make sure I was okay.

My parents shrugging it off when I was viciously attacked by a cat, sending me on to school.

                The principal herself taking me to the doctor to get the blood all over my arms cleaned up.

You never know what goes on behind closed doors.

                Be the light in someone’s life. Be the smile that makes their day. Be the memory that sticks with them even after 50 years. It only takes a second, yet can last a lifetime. It can be so very simple, yet it might be the one thing that keeps them going.

Thanks for the memories: Howard, Mr. Bemis, June, Molly, Michael, Aunt Lois, Suzanne, Mrs. Simmons, and Judy.

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Be Kind

For 25+ years, our job has been to help the cat who needed a new situation find a new home. During those 25 years, we encountered every single reason imaginable for needing to find a new home. Some were unavoidable – the owner died with no family to take the cat. The new baby in the family had repeated allergic reactions that resulted in hospitalizations. The family lost their home and went to a homeless shelter that didn’t allow pets.

Others, not so understandable. One man told me his cat ‘purred too much’. Another lady said that the cat didn’t match the new sofa. And of course there was always the ‘we got a kitten and the older cat is unhappy.’

While at first our emotions bubbled over as we listened to the reasons, we quickly came to several big conclusions:

If the person wasn’t happy, and in particular wasn’t happy with the cat, then the cat wasn’t happy.

Cats are amazingly resilient. We’d like to think that no one is as great at being an owner as we are. But give them another excellent situation with enough love and adoration, and they can be happy again.

People tend to focus on themselves – what do “I” want that makes me happy. That is not always the same as what makes the cat happy. A person may have 12 cats and that fills their heart with joy. But for the one of those cats that is always hiding and tormented by the other cats, their heart may be filled with fear.

Social media allows just a snapshot of the real world. You see a beautiful garden, but not the rusty fence next door. You see a gorgeous beach, but not the pile of garbage washed up on the sand. We crop pictures, adjust backgrounds, frame our subject so that people ‘like’ our photo. You never see the whole story unless you are right there. And with rehoming of animals, there is always more to the story than what we see presented.

Each of us has X amount of energy to use each day. We can use it in any way we see fit – being helpful, being kind, being supportive, or we can use it being critical, throwing stones, casting blame. In the case of animals needing new homes, our focus should be on the animal itself. What can we do to help? Can we share the post? Do we know someone who might help? Can we donate to their cause? Or can we just offer some words of kindness to a stranger who is likely going through a lot tougher time than is presented?

The world needs more kindness and compassion. Not hatred and criticism. If you can’t say something nice and supportive, or help in some way, then scroll on by. Let’s strive to have our actions and words have positive reactions. There’s enough unhappiness as it is without any one of us contributing more.   

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One Paw At A Time

Why are you sad? His head tilted ever so slightly to the left, a quizzical look in his eyes.

I have no idea, I thought. There is just so much pain wherever I look. The news of the world. The anger and hatred. The sadness and despair. It gets so overwhelming. 

Look at the good you have done. At the kindness you have shared. At the empathy you have shown. You have made this world a better place. His eyes said it all.

It doesn’t feel like much I lamented. It’s just a drop in the bucket. There is so much pain in so many situations. 

His gaze penetrated my heart. His whiskers twitched. And his motorboat purr gently rumbled: without you, I wouldn’t be here. I might have been on the streets, hungry, matted, fleabitten. Desperate for a gentle touch and a soft voice, yet met with a stout kick or a tossed rock. Always leery, always scrambling out of danger. But then you came along, giving the time, the energy, the compassion and the resources needed to help someone like me. No one person can fix the world. But if each of us reach out to help, just a little, the world becomes a better place. Thank you for that.

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The Commitment of a Lifetime

Hey you – you, with the greying muzzle. Can you still hear me? You look a little muddled. I’m over here – on the sofa – can you find me? Don’t fret – if not, I’ll come get you. I’m right here. You smell me, don’t you – your eyes are concerned. Don’t worry, buddy. I am right here every step of the way. 
We go back quite a ways, don’t we? Some days, things were good, some days, we struggled. But you were always there. When I was irritated, you soothed my nerves. When I was lonely, you snuggled up tight. When I was sulking, you gently pawed my leg. When I thought my world was falling apart, you held me together. 
I hurt, and you understood. You gave, and then gave some more. No matter how I felt, how I behaved, or what I did, you were there, watching, waiting, ready to comfort. Always accepting.
And now you’re aging. Know that I will stand by you. While my heart will break into pieces as your body slowly tires, I will do my best to make every step of the way as comfortable as possible. I promise to watch carefully so you don’t suffer needlessly. And when the time has come, I will hold your paw and soothe your soul as you take your last sleep. 
We are connected, you and I; physically in this world, spiritually forever after. Thank you for choosing me, I have been honored to be yours. 

Beauregard – 7/12/96 – 3/14/16
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There Are Weeds In My Garden

I’m guilty. I suspect many of us are, as it’s often hard to see the flowers past the weeds. As a gardener, I focus on that weed – that thing marring my beautiful bed, my spread of comfort and projected perfection. If I can just remove that weed, taproot and all, the world will right itself and the blossoms will open their faces to the sun with happiness.


I had a traumatic childhood – welcome to the world – it has taken me a number of years to realize I don’t stand alone. But when, as a teenager, you’re elbow deep in unhappiness that permeates your soul, and then as an adult, you’re lugging that heavy baggage everywhere you go, you tend to concentrate on the ‘woe is me’. Oh sure, I looked outwards. Even today, as we drive down the road, I stare at each house we pass, wondering what’s happening inside. Does that window showcase a functioning family unit, filled with conversation and smiles? Or is there a small child in there, cowering behind the screaming and violence? But until I came of age where I really absorbed the news stories and read all the published memoirs of survival, I thought my experiences were some of the worst. I now realize they pale in comparison to many.


That’s not to discount my experience in any way; even in my 60’s I am still working on my demons. It’s been a long process. As I approached the world of paychecks, I focused on careers where I could ‘fix’ things. When I picked substance abuse counseling as a career in college, a very wise professor took me aside to discuss my direction. While certainly a worthy cause and a field ripe with need, he said, unless I could make peace with myself and my history, the suitcases I was carrying would never get unpacked. He had a point, but I knew I needed to be in a field where I could help others. I shifted focus first, to rehab counseling, then working with the hearing impaired, and finally, when dealing with school politics became overwhelming, to rescuing cats. By making the world a better place in however small a way, I would help to create happiness for others.


Now, in the last third of my life, I am working to focus on how much I have to be thankful for, and to appreciate the small things. I still get enjoyment in giving to others, realizing that at least half of my personal pleasure comes from making someone else happy. For the other half, I am learning to dance with my demons. While my ideal remains a pristine garden bed full of beautiful blooms, I’m working hard to take the weeds in stride.