2 Polly and sherry

sherry and polly were my bestest friends when i lived on east fifth avenue.  living two doors down from our house, they were ever-ready playmates.  sherry was my age and polly was a year or two younger.  the games we played were dependent on the season; the ones i remember most took place in our backyards and in the adjoining alley.

one game in particular was 'school', a summer favorite.  did we really miss school that much?  we found two old school desks which served as our props.  pooling some pocket change we bought construction paper, handwriting paper, etc., to add to our own collection of pencils and scissors. taking turns being the teacher was a delight... for the chosen teacher.  not only did the teacher get to mimic our teachers from shepard elementary school and to teach whatever s/he wanted, but the teacher was a allowed to discipline within reason.  a slap on the hand, putting a dunce cap on the offending student, or placing the student in the corner were common punishments, punctuating with a bit a giggling and eye-rolling.  more times than not, the punishment became more important than the game itself.  someone would get angry, slam and book or rip a piece of paper and walk off in a huff.  but after a time of calming down, we would resume our friendship, one that we vowed would last forever.

one particular thing that bound the three of us together was our mutual understanding of sherry's pseudo-language. many could not understand the short morse codeish words with which she spoke.  but polly and i understood perfectly, sometimes too perfectly given the saucy language that this preacher's son learned.  i can remember my mom bringing a snack out to us, and chatting with us for a few minutes.  later on, she would ask me to interpret what sherry had said.  how simple was that!

by the time sherry and i had finished second grade, sherry and polly moved to west columbus and we moved to gahanna.  there were several of phone calls which diminished quickly as we engaged in our new environments.  within a few years, they moved to gahanna and sherry was in my sixth grade class.  but it wasn't the same.  both of us had changed and we hung out with different people.                 just as sherry had lost her pseudo-language, so had we lost a friendship that had once been so important to both of us.  by the time high school came around, we didn't even speak.

friendships are rarely forever.  how in the world would i keep up with every friend i ever had?   two people can share a bond for a time that can feel like forever.  but life happens; the friendship dissolves or fades away.  and we are left with memories, stories, and secrets that we shared.  the melancholy that comes with the memories are reminders that friendships past and present become a part of who we are.  we move on, open to other possibilities.

fyi, while still in high school,  polly and her boyfriend died by carbon dioxide poisoning in a parked car. for years after, i heard nothing about the family. in the recent past, however, sherry and i were facebook friends for awhile.  i think we both needed to know each other's whereabouts. nothing more.  we had discovered that we now spoke different languages.

3 When time begins to speed up

don't you just love it when a child who has been asked how old they are will fiddle with their fingers until they finally get the right combo.  for some reason, the number 3 is the hardest to show.             try it.  can you feel the remaining fingers try to jump into the act?  sometimes, a kid will hold down the other fingers so that 3 is clearly shown.

one of my first memories happened when i was three. my red rocking horse was in the dining room and i sat atop pretending to be someone going somewhere.   i remember thinking, "i am three, no one loves me.".  i am sure it wasn't meant to be a rhyme, but it clearly showed that i felt alone.  perhaps i had just been punished or i could not find anyone to play with me.

one, two, three, GO! was our way of starting a race. the contestants would put their feet right behind the line drawn by a stick in the dirt.  then the caller would count one....   two....    three....   GO!  what fun it was to draw out the numbers, especially if it made a contestant cross the line too early.

whether it's 1, 2, 3 or 3, 2, 1, the numbers in order depict the imminent start of something.  it's as if the word go needs three words to build up steam, rev the engines, or muster the courage to take action.  and so today, i have been occupied with 3 as the start of the final countdown.

having lost 27 lbs since march 1, i realize i am losing motivation to keep going.  were this time to extend much longer, i am sure 'cheating' would take place.  two months is a long time to keep up this regimen.  however, i have done it!    and now the final countdown begins.  and on monday afternoon, i will wake up from surgery to start a new journey toward health and well-being.

4 Until

i am not a football fan.  i don't like a game that takes forever to go from one side of the field to another. the ticket prices are enough to cover your income taxes.  and on the holiest of holy days, the main attractions are the commercials and the half-time show (especially to see if some forbidden word slips out of the performer's mouth or some body part falls out of..  well, where it belongs).

coming from a family (dad and brother) that loved football, i learned a few things from hearing the tv blast away. while mom, kathy, and i were cleaning the kitchen after sunday dinner, i would pick-up some football jargon.  some phrases were met with a loud groan from the crowd (pass incomplete) or a crazy loud cheer (touchdown). but one call was a uniquely tense call.  the announcer would say, "fourth down and 1 yard to go".  i remember it as "close yet so far away".   eventually, the tension would fall away as the crowd's reaction would announce the result of the play.

sometimes, even though we want something so badly, it remains fourth down and 1 yard to go.  we are almost there but not.  it's the fourth down and we have one more chance.  it's a set up for anxiety.  we would do almost anything to cross that line, even if it's just that big toe.

but as many stories reveal, we must wait it out until...  it's the 'untils' in life that take courage, patience, and a big ole' honkin' stress ball to squeeze.  the untils will come in their own time.

5 Year of the tiger

one of my favorite years teaching elementary school was in 1983-1984.   it was a year that we clicked. most of the students loved to learn and were eager to try crazy experiments to prove a point.  in one experiment, each student was to make something using one kind of simple machine (gear, pulley).  what fun we had with the successes and the almost successes.  another experiment involved dropping an egg from a third-story window without it breaking. imagine twelve students and their teacher looking out the window watching the eggs go splat! or remain intact.

we adopted a room mascot, which i still have today.  it was a little one-eyed stuffed tiger we found in a garbage pail.  each week the person doing the best work or putting forth the best effort took the tiger home for the weekend.  students added necklaces, bracelets, etc., to make tiger more of their own.  once, while the class was reading quietly, i raised a ruckus and slammed my desk drawer on tiger.  the class was in an uproar, yelling "mr. richey" and laughing uncontrollably.

learning and laughter are a great mix.  again the students were reading quietly while their teacher, after about 20 minutes, was getting bored.  so, he pretended to have a cold, sneezing and coughing.  the students did not see him put a clean tissue on the top of his shoe.  they did see him blow his nose loudly into a tissue and then dropped it.  when he sat up, he put the clean tissue in his mouth, chewing on it as the students were grossed out.  we spent about 10 minutes telling jokes we had played on someone.  and then we returned to our reading, quite refreshed and energized.

the students were old enough to start thinking for themselves and young enough to still want a hug from their teacher.  one was especially affectionate, sitting close to me at recess while the others played.  he had no interest in running around.  instead, he would clasp my arm as he would tell me stories and would explain scientific concepts he had learned. twice that year, he asked me to be his dad.  you see, his father was gruff, often smelling of alcohol, and totally disinterested in his boy's education.  the boy was evasive when i asked him if his dad hit him, but he told me his dad would yell a lot.  my heart was broken.  if i could have, i would have taken him home and raised him myself.  but given the circumstances, i could let him know everyday that i loved him.  leaving on the last day of school, he ran up, grabbed me around my neck, and hugged me, sobbing as he said, "i love you, mr. richey, i wish you could be my dad".   i cried all the way home.

by the way, five of the twelve students from that year have found me on facebook.  they are constant reminders of a special time and place where we spent a special year together.

6 sunday evening t.v.

it was a technicolor moment...  the tv screen went from black and white to living color!  i had just witnessed that jaw-dropping scene from the wizard of oz for the first time. dorothy had just walked out of her house and into munchkin land.  what made it even more exciting was that i had waited for around    18-20 years to watch it because we had to be in church on sunday evening.  every sunday evening. but on the once-a-year oz tv sunday evening, i wanted to be home.  i wanted to watch the magic on tv.

of course, i had to hear 10,000 reiterations of various scenes at school the next morning. had i the nerve, i would have taken the school p.a. system hostage, telling everyone to shut their damn mouths about that movie.

i am hoping for a dorothy moment.. soon.  beginning   in 6 days, i will be given a gift somewhat like dorothy's special shoes, that will help me lose weight very quickly.  but the journey from there will be mine.  every step will be a choice of my own.  like dorothy, i have friends and family who are supportive and helpful.  donna and i have worked on buying, storing, storing, and experimenting with foods that i can eat.  it will be about 12 weeks before i can eat bits of normal food.

but ultimately, having had the joys, fears, fun, tears, setbacks, and the moveforwards of my oz experience, it will be me, only me that can decide my path saying, "i want to go home".

the almost of 9

i don't remember nine ladies dancing in our church xmas musical or cantata.  dancing, of course, was banned.  but you could count, however, the 9  plus children that would use the long choir pews as a track with the teachers chasing them.  and yet i  heard that 9 x 3 people had a fun evening of square dancing at     that same church.

1. nine can be a symbol of almosts.  it's almost a two-digit number, but not.  just as 99 is almost a three-digit number  but not quite..  can you imagine earning 9,999 points when 10,000 would have earned a beautiful car.  almost doesn't win the game.  but it can elicit the response, "you get an A for effort.

2. nine can be a symbol of the coming excitement of zero!  as 9 turns to 8, which turns to 7, the churning stomach, beating heart, and  foggy head are signs of excitement and anticipation.  it's a great feeling even as it makes time grow remarkably slow.

i really need to get finished! talk to you soon!!                                    

10 Countdown

ten days is a common milestone for events yet to come.  ten days until the wedding, the play, the concert, the ball game...  or the surgery...   my surgery.

in ten days at about 1:45 i will be taken to surgery where my stomach will be reduced to the size of a thumb.  and waiting, as some friends have told me.  for weight loss that will give me my life back.

the countdown has begun....   10,

15 Games

one of the fun activities to which we have become addicted is password... the old game starring betty white and alan ludden.  the tension grew as the guesser tried to guess a word by the guesee. of course we would declare that we knew the word before the tv guest did.  of course.

part of the fun at the richey-suttles home is discarding the rules that don't work.  why go through the misery of enduring rules we don't like?  we invite guests over, sometimes suggesting that we play one or more games of password..  certainly the game is fun within itself, but the silliness and laughter that is generated adds additional enjoyment.  at the end of any round, players are free to suggest a new rule to enhance the game. but if one of us quietly slips in an additional rule, so much the better.  if the guessee fails to get the other players to guess the word, one point is deducted from that person's score.  the winner is the one who has accumulated 10 points.

just as each of us have a favorite game or two, we also have one particular life game that suits us best.  btw, life games are NOT to be equated with a fake facades or artificial impressions that we choose to use at times.  real games reflect who we really are.  most of us can with some thought, introspection, and feedback from others identify someone's life game.  my game includes just things as reflection, empathy, passion, sensitivity, and kindness with a good dose of humor, silliness, anxiety, stubbornness  and melancholy.  all of these qualities have been repeated and strengthened throughout my life. aome have served me well; others have been the source of embarrassment and shame.  but they are mine; they feel as comfortable to me as the house shoes i have worn daily for at least two years.

i now have 15  days to wait before surgery.  armed with the elements of my game, i jump into these last days with anxiety-lased confidence.  i will move on from this surgery a different person with a big chance of recovering my life..  and i will move on from this surgery the same person, armed with the same game with pliant rules.

21 Ha, ha, ha!!

i hid in the closet because i didn't want to miss one thing.  i had searched the house for the best undiscoverable place; the downstairs hall closet won.  it was there that i could hear the church board members who had been rewarded with mom's homemade pies after they had met for a long evening of discussing plans to build the new church.  now it was time to kick back, relax, and...  laugh.  i enjoyed every moment.

i blinked.  and there before me were my parents with a look of relief and aggravation.  as the story was told, after the crowd went home, my parents made the rounds as they did each evening.  i was not in my bed.  i was not hidden behind the family room couch.  i was not under any bed.  but cramped up in the closet, sound asleep was their son.  i don't remember what happened next, but i am sure it was worth the fun i had experienced.

most of us, like that little boy, find laughter compelling as it is contagious.  we want to get in on the fun.  laughing takes us away from ourselves and into temporary state of joy.  and shall i mention that laughing can be uncontrollable?  try stopping laughing at church, at a funeral, or at any solemn occasion when something happens to flip that switch.  in fact, trying to stop makes it worse as it does when others have had their switched flipped for the same reason.

laughter makes us feel human.  whether we are anxious, sad, happy, angry, content, or insecure, we have that certain sensation that starts in our stomach and quickly ends in our mouths as laughter, our eyes twinkling and our faces red.  we have joined others in that reflexive act that can leave us doubled over, catching  our breath, and holding our sides.

like that little boy, we may just want to be where the laughing is.  it's fun to be around it.  we may not get the meaning of the joke, but we get the meaning of laughter.   for a moment, we are invited to forget what's bugging us, to quite the anxiety, or to break the cycle of sadness... and laugh.

i am guessing that little boy didn't want to go to bed.  probably, he didn't want to miss anything.  instead, he knew the voices, he was familiar with their laughs, and he wanted to be with them.  and in that comfortable atmosphere, he fell asleep content with the world.

in this time of high stress and anxiety, donna and i have found ways an reasons to laugh.  we act like silly kids, tell jokes, or relate a funny story, with the sole purpose of laughing.  we have invited people overwho like us enjoy laughing and goofing off.  during these days, we have to laugh.  we have to find ways to step out of the stress and enjoy life.

oh, one more thing.  i do remember what happened.  mom and dad told me not to hide like that again and told me to go to bed, swifty smacking on my butt.  and as i climbed the steps, i could hear two people snickering at what just happened, relieved that i was safe and amused that i had done, once again, a stephen thing.

23 Meltdown

i'll lay it on the table...  last night was a difficult one.  it started when i spilled broth on my computer rendering it unusable.  as clean up started, so did the tears.  i was so angry at myself and embarrassed that donna witnessed it.  if you say that things like that happen all the time, i would certainly agree.

but that wasn't the only spill.   the lid containing the stress of the last few months flew off the pot and and splattered all over the place.  my tears turned to sobbing which turned to irrational thoughts, crazy words,  and intense feelings. it was a mess.  donna helped calm me down to the point that i could tell her what i was feeling.  apparently i had ready a list of things that i used to lambast myself.

but as i continued, i began to see the gap between what was anxiety, stress, and fear versus what was actually true.  and the gap widened as i kept talking and listening to donna's responses.  after a time, it suddenly became clear that letting the gap continue to widen was the solution. i did this by, among other things, a good night's sleep!  fortunately, i woke up with a relatively clean slate and a motivation to move on.

as i continue to prepare for surgery on april 29th, i expect that meltdowns, down turns, upheavals, and steps backward will continue to occur.  just as spring cleaning is usually necessary to make room for summer, so is clearing the mind of garbage vital as i prepare for a major transition of body and all the accompanying changes thoughts and emotions.

afterwards, i plan to discover how the changes will transform me, renew me, and in a significant way heal me.

peace!

24: The layered look

i live with a yo-yo.  "what's that???" you ask.  no, i am not putting donna down.  rather it explains living with a person who can be as cold as ice or as warm as toast.  again, "what's that???" you ask.  i better dig myself out of this hole, but fast.  donna is quite sensitive to room temperature.  within an hour's time, she likely has changed the temperature several times.  she is wrapped in blankets one minute and is wearing a light cotton tee the next.  whenever we go somewhere, summer or winter, donna takes a jacket to use in case she gets too cold.  she is a fashion expert in the layered look.

in a sense, we have to learn to live life dressed in layers.  just as soon as we think we have a situation under control, something happens unravel our plans.  either we learn to adapt or we become rigid in our beliefs and ideas.  believe it our not, there is more than one way to deal with a situation.

the degree to which we have control over a changing situation involves several layers.  how much control do i have over myself, the situation, another person, an institution?  and that amount of control we may have can change without notice.

almost two weeks ago, my latest blood work came back with one very low number.  the doctor gave me an injection and within a couple of days, prescribed a medication as well.

all was neat and tidy until the pharmacy called to say that the medication needed pre-authorization.  at that point, the situation snowballed out of control as the number of players needed to make a decision quickly went from one to five:  the doctor, the nurse, the insurance company, the insurance company's pharmaceutical consultants, and my local pharmacy.

over a week had passed and despite all that donna and i had done to close the deal, no final decision had been made by the players.  in a moment of freaking frustration, i called the insurance company... again.   after listening to my story, the representative put me on hold for a brief moment.  she returned to say that a similar medication, just as effective, was available without the need for prior authorization.  it was that simple!  i had the medication in-hand later that day.

in order to cope, to adapt, and to deal with life, dressing in layers is imperative.  we need the freedom that our mental and emotional wardrobe can give us.  when one outfit doesn't work, it may be time to change clothes.  now, i tend to like the same clothes... those that feel a part of me in color, texture, and design.  but sometimes, i have to wear something different... something more suitable and more appropriate to the situation.  and to complete the outfit, the layered look works best.

before i finish, i need to make a humble confession:
donna is married to a man who wears shorts and tank tops around the house all year round.  even in the winter, you may find a window slightly ajar.  so her frequent changes of clothes, her layered clothing, and her blanket on/blanket off routines etc., are significantly influenced by my need to be cool.  yes, i can be high maintenance.

 now, that feels better.

26: When the time comes

donna joined me in saudi arabia in 1984 for the first day of our living together.  honestly, it seemed like a fantasy.  we awoke that first morning in time for me to get to work.  of course, i had my routine of getting ready.  and donna offered to make breakfast, iron my clothes, etc., in her desire to help me.  but my morning grumpinessset in; i told her i didn't need orange juice, prune juice, or any kind of juice.  of course, she was in tears and i felt like a dork.  i realized then that this was reality.  we were married, spending the rest of our lives together.  we had time to work out what juice to buy, what time to eat dinner, or who cleans the dishes.

several events in my life have left me question the boundaries of reality and fantasy.  the death of family members and friends have left me wondering if they are REALLY gone.  you are probably familiar with calling the phone number of the deceased or expecting them to walk in the door, then realizing nothing will bring them back.

graduating from college and from graduate school certainly required a reality check.  after being handed the diploma, suddenly the residence, zip code, and bedroom may change.  but most importantly, stepping out of the role of 'student' and into another role can be mind-bending.  it took me over a year to really believe i was actually practicing psychology and not facing another deadline for a paper or a test.  the free time i had felt strange and at times produced guilt rather than relaxation.

i have several fantasies about the results of the upcoming surgery.  of course, i have pictured myself as i was at 25.  that is not going to happen...  this surgery does not grow my hair back.  i fantasize about better mobility and more energy, dreaming about flying, rock climbing, flying, hiking, and flying.  and i wonder if i will recognize myself.  but in the midst of my fantasies, i still ask myself, 'is this really going to happen or is it just fantasy?'.

preparation for changes in life can be helpful.  but those preparations can only anticipate reality, not predict it.  i don't know how i will feel for the days and weeks after surgery.  i have no idea how quickly i will have to get new clothes in a smaller size. i can learn from people who have had this done; their stories are helpful and encouraging.  but i will really  know only when my time comes.  

perhaps that is the most helpful thing:  knowing that part of my preparation has been building the confidence that i can have this surgery and that i can deal with 'whatever' when the time comes.

28: April fools

i love this holiday as any prankster would.  watching youtube videos of jokes and surprises tend to crack me up.  i remember my dad waking ed and i up, yelling that there was a monkey in the backyard.  i fell for it and vowed to make such pranks a part of my lifetime repertoire.

it is not uncommon for my brain to play tricks on me.  on day 29, today, i found myself searching google for a better understanding of how the surgery is performed.  the animated version was simple enough.  a real surgery video, however, was calling my name persuading me that more knowledge is helpful.

wrong!

i was quite disturbed by the video and i could not bring myself to shut it off.  i was left with a surge of anxiety.  "they are going to do that to me!!!".  no, i am not backing out, although the thought crossed my mind.  but i realized i didn't need to see the video.  fortunately, no cats were killed as the result of my curiosity.

as is the case with those anxiety surges, i became antsy.  often the cure is taking a solo ride around the neighborhood.  i rarely can do that, but today i mustered up the strength to ride into the sunset.  more accurately, i rode to the bank to withdraw some money and to the gas station to get $1.00 off each gallon of gasoline thanks to kroger.  donna wasn't feeling well, so i wanted to do her a favor.  i could have kicked myself because of the pain it produced in my injured shoulder.  mind over matter didn't work this time.  i came home proud of my accomplishments and discouraged that those simple tasks are still outside my skill level.

so i sit this afternoon with a coldpack on my shoulder trying to convince myself that i tried something new and it didn't quite work.  my mine's prank.. making me feel as a stupid idiot... does nothing except making me feel exactly like a stupid idiot.  that is a dead end and a complete waste of time.

so i drink some coffee, allow myself the luxury of feeling drowsy, and ready myself for a nap... all ingredients for feeling better.

for the next 29 days, i know i will goof up a few times.  but more importantly, i will find success in preparation for the surgery.  losing 19 lbs. since the end of february is something about which i can smile and say that i am on a positive, necessary, and productive journey.  and if you see my pants fall down, please look the other way.  it will be for our own good.