Agressive Breed? More Like, Stupid People.

Today I was told I could not adopt a dog because she is an "aggressive breed". I met her at the Oregon Humane Society, where she has been since Christmas eve. Her description states that she has lived with cats and children, and I found out the only reason she was brought in was that the family couldn't afford her "medical" expenses, which were a simple flea/skin irritation. I met her, and she was hilarious and friendly. I was told that since she is a "power breed" they would have to verify that I could take her home. Sadly, I found out, my property has a policy against "aggressive breeds".

I will admit, I was once nervous about pit-bulls. Furthermore, I was nervous about any big dog. Nothing has ever happened to me, these are just big, strong, animals. However, over the past few years, I have met several pit-bulls, and have come to realize that they are really sweet and loving dogs.

It breaks my heart that these dogs are being discriminated against. The discrimination comes from a fear-powered media and a misinformed public.  Breed discrimination is linked to dog popularity, hence the more dogs of a certain breed are owned, the more incidents occur. Think about it, "In the 1970's Dobermans were very popular, hence a higher number of attacks by Dobermans in the '70's. Pit Bulls started rising in popularity in the 80's, Rottweiler;s in the the 90's" All these dogs have been thought to be "aggressive". But here is a surprising discovery I made today, google a breed of dog with "kill" or something similar, and you will find a story linked to that breed of dog.

Example (warning: these may be hard to read)
Golden Retriever
Labrador
Pomeranian


"A study performed by the American Veterinary Medical Association, the CDC, and the Humane Society of the United States, analyzed dog bite statistics from the last 20 years and found that the statistics don’t show that any breeds are inherently more dangerous than others."

People are the problem here. If you spay/neuter, train, love, and exercise your animal, you'll have a happy loving and loyal companion. Sure, accidents and tragic things will happen in life, however, linking these tragic events to a specific breed of animal is not only cruel, but wrong. Please, if you are still afraid of pit-bulls, read a bit about how they are loving and loyal. Find a friend with one and go play. I hope your heart will be changed. I am super bummed that I didn't get to take a home a new friend today, but hopefully I can start being a small voice of change.

Fulfilled and Unfulfilled

I had a realization today that I am becoming more and more fulfilled with my career. Two years ago, I never would have thought I'd have that feeling! But, here I am, really really happy at work! I adore the people I work with. They are smart, savvy, respectful, and overall loving people. They are nice to me, they think my ideas are good, they think I am funny. I find that I am now my happiest while I am at work.

While this is not the worst thing in the world, I mean, most people, I assume, would like to have a job they love and work with people they adore. So, I am not complaining about all that. I am however, noticing that I really am, only happy, when I am at my job. I am, truly grateful for this fact, but I just want more. Is it wrong to want more?

I noticed tonight, as I pulled into my driveway, that I started to cry. I feel super sad and bummed out. All my colleagues are busy tonight... with their family, friends, lovers, etc... So I sit at home, night after night, alone, and am extremely sad.

I am so far off balance, which for a Libra, is a HUGE deal. My only real piece of identity now is my job. I am so disconnected from love, sex, activities, hobbies, anything. All I do is work. Work, home, cry, repeat.

This sucks. This is depression.

Children Remind Me of Our Humanity

As a teacher, I see all kind of behavior from children. They hit, they scream, they cry, and they can sometimes be generally awful creatures. Today, however, students in my class, reminded me that we can be so wonderful and kind.

I have a student who is fairly intellectually challenged. Today, he was crying on the playground. This kiddo had only cried one other time, and when he cries, my world stops. I mean, he is so happy all of the time! So it is very unusual to see him sad. I asked him what was wrong. He very timidly stated that his feelings got hurt. The innocence in his eyes, and the tears that streamed down his face showed that the pain he felt was real and sharp.

I took him in my arms, and felt his pain along with him. I told him that I was sorry that his feelings were hurt. I held him for a moment and then asked him if he wanted to play or stand with me. He chose to play. Not before telling me, "I need to wipe away my tears." I helped him dry his eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, and he then bumbled off.

As I watched him walk away, only moments later were little friends flocking over to check on him. One little guy put his arm around him, and I heard him say, "It's OK, let's go play." Another little girl went to him, waited until she got his eyes and looked purely into them and genuinely asked "Are you, OK?"These little people, all caring for this wounded soul. Truly, almost every child checked in with him, patted him on the back, gave him a hug, smiled at him. They took care of him.

My heart melted with adoration, pride, and warmth, for the simple sweetness of children. These little ones displayed such compassion and empathy that I rarely see in adults, and they did it without prompting, without pride, without wanting anything in return. They did it from a place of unbridled love.

We could all learn from them.

The Greatest Man

A few years ago, I remember pondering the men I trusted.  Sadly, the list wasn't very long, and as I grew older, the list only grew smaller. On December 26th, that list dwindled even more.

My Grandfather was at the top of that list. I always felt safe with him. He would never do anything to put me, my sisters, my Mother, or my Grandmother in harms way. My Grampa was not a wealthy man, but I understand now, that we were all his treasures.

I called upon my Grampa several times in my young teenage life for a ride, or to take me to Les Schwab for tire repair. He always told me to get gas when the gauge was at a 1/4 tank, a habit that I have always followed. I would take Gramma shopping, and he would always tell us to "hold on to your purse!" Upon returning, he would make the same comment, "What'd you do!? Buy out the whole store?!" He'd look at what we'd gotten with a grin on his face, simply happy that we were happy.

I fear that the list of trustworthy men is also short for many girls and women. I am so proud to say that my Grandfather was the greatest man I have ever known. I miss him so much. I keep trying to hear his voice in my head. I want him to pat me on the back, and get sheepish when I would tell him "I love you". He'd just say, "Oh, yeah, I s'pose" He did say it back to me, at the hospital, I think he knew he needed to. We all needed to.

I miss Grampa. He made the top of my list, and it breaks my heart, that instead of the list growing, it simply get smaller with time. But I am blessed to have had him for a time.

Growing Up

Have you ever been present when someone takes their last breath? I have. Twice. This most recent time, it was different. My Grandfather, Keith, departed from this world on December 26th, 2012.

The events leading up to this are not as important as the approximate hour or so before that eventually brought me to his bedside that afternoon. That morning was spent with my Grandmother. During this visit, she had expressed hope that he would simply "go in his sleep".  At about 1 o'clock, I had a strong sensation to go and visit Grampa. Upon departing, she asked me to tell Grampa, "Hi".  I got in the car, and called my Mom. Immediately, I knew that it was time. I told her to relay Gramma's message.

I arrived in the hospital room at about 1:25pm. "It is time for Grampa to die," was my thought. My sister, Kimberly, and Mom we at either side of Grampa. I sat removed for a few minutes, simply taking in the energy of the room, along with the emotions of those present. I was confused and calm at the same time.  I first saw my sister, with tears running down her face, just sitting, holding one of Grampa's hands. The presence of my Mother, however, is what struck me.  She was sitting on his right side, holding his hand and looking into his eyes. I moved in next to her and wrapped my arm around her, and no longer could fight back the tears that were pooling up behind that dams of my eyes.

The sound of my Grampa's labored breathing broke my heart. It was the most horrific sound that I have ever heard in my life, and to know that nothing could be done, made it all the more wretched. Things happen during the death process that do not need to be written here, but my sister and I, without words, went straight to work, giving him as much dignity as we could. It was a task, that only strong souls could handle, and I am proud of my sister, and myself for that matter.  Then my Mom started to speak. She could have been speaking the whole time, but the energy in the room was vibrating and only to be drowned out by the sound of her words.

My Grampa's eyes were fixed upwards for the most part, until she started to tell him it was time to go. My hand now wrapped his and hers. Mom's words, "Dad, it's OK. You can let go. We are here. Mom will be OK." He fought it for a moment, but then his breathing became more gentle, far less laborious. His body relaxed a bit. She continued talking to him, with a tone that seemed to come from a Holy place, one that I had never heard from anyone before. She spoke with gentle authority "Dad, come on, it's time to go Home. Let go, Dad. It's alright... let go..." His eyes teared up... my Mom wiped them away... And with that, he was gone...

Tears poured out, as I stood slowly, my hand giving him Christ's blessing on his forehead, and closed his eyes. I then began to pray The Lord's Prayer over him... my Mom and sister joined in... forever and ever... Amen. 

I sat down, overcome with grief. "That was my Dad," my Mom said, as she pointed to his now lifeless body. She wept over him. I was slammed by intense rage. It was scaring me how angry I was. I kept thinking I would do anything to make my Mom not be sad. Then I thought about my Gramma, how unfair it was going to be that she would suffer with the pain that grief brings. My fingers dug into my flesh to distract my brain from screaming. Nurses, and now more family, and noise that had disrupted this sacred and now Holy ground.

This rage continues to flow through me. It has lessened some, but there are times I feel like I am going to explode from the depths of my stomach.

I was told today, that it is an honor to be present at someones death. I had forgotten that I have always believed this to be true. I have also come to realize that I see my Mom is a new light. She is a woman that I truly respect, love, and cherish. She showed me how to say goodbye, how to let go, and ultimately, how to die. I am still learning from this experience, but it has left me changed, and far more grown-up.

I Loved Him

Maybe it is the holiday's. Maybe the darkness of the season. Maybe it is seeing the depth of my Grandparents love since my Grandfather had a stroke. Yeah, that's probably it. Whatever the reason, I have been thinking about how much I loved Andrew, and just how hurt I am upon reflecting that I do not think that love was returned, at least not in the same way.

I remember one of the last interactions I had with him was finding a spiral notebook and flipping for a clear sheet of paper, I came across what appeared to be a list of some sort. After reading it, it was the most heart-wrenching list I had ever read in my life. He had made a list of things he wanted in a woman - these are the things I remember: someone younger, thinner, into more activities, more fun... Those are just what I remember, the list was much longer.

As you can imagine, then, as well as now, I just cried. The kind of tears that come from a dark and broken place.  He didn't love me. How long ago was it that he fell out of love with me? Why didn't he talk to me about what he wanted? Instead, alone, I found his list of wants. I am not getting any younger, I am certainly not thin, I didn't understand what he meant about activities, since I always asked him to do things and he was never interested in doing them - did he offer ideas? no. I guess I am no fun either. Reading these things felt like a punch in the tummy, the face. I felt beat up.

You are probably wondering if I confronted him. I did. I tearfully handed him the list, and simply walked away. He said he was so sorry that I had read it, and that he never intended for me to find it.

I did find it. Even though it was a year and a half ago, the wound is still fresh. It still oozes. It has infected my sense of self and overall worth as a woman, as a partner.

The Wheel

What does one do when they feel they are simply running, around and around, in the circular wheel? I was able to identify the feeling, trapped. I feel caged and the realization, that this is all, that this is it, brought an overwhelming fear, of dread - of simply wanting to die and have it be over with... For continuing on in this anguish, is no life.
While driving, I let go of the wheel, while sobbing uncontrollably. I wanted to car to crash, to feel a burst of energy, to feel my body crushed, to die.
And probably, like so many others, I reached again for the wheel, now crying so hard, that my body shakes, and I can no longer breathe. I think of my Mom, my sisters, my nephew. Those thoughts are just as overpoweringly sad.
I am afraid of life and death, and therefore stuck, in some sort of torturous purgatory-like state.