I agreed to wha?!

As you know, I have dubbed 2012 as the Year of Extreme Racing.  My first extreme race will be on January 28th when I run the Securian 10k in St. Paul, then head to White Bear Lake to participate in the Polar Bear Plunge!  But I just agreed to something much more extreme than jumping in a freezing cold lake, or climbing the stairs of a skyscraper, or running an over night running relay.  I just agreed to go to the Minneapolis Boat Show with my husband... *shudders*

See, I haven't been to the Boat Show in 20+ years.  I can't even look at the billboards, hear the radio ads, or see the commercials without my stomach doing a little flip flop.  It's only within the past 2 years that I've even considered going back to the Minneapolis Convention Center.  The last time I was at the Boat Show I left the building bleeding profusely out the back of my head, with my mom incredibly pissed that we had just paid $20 to walk through the door. 

My parents and I had just started walking through the boats.  They turned around to leave the second vessel we checked out, and someone cut me off so I was stuck there.  Being a kid I thought I'd just duck out the corner of the boat instead... duh, I'm nimble!  But when I stepped out of the boat, I didn't step onto the platform.  My foot missed completely and I fell out of the boat.  I hit my head on the boat, then on the wheel well of the trailer, then the frame of the trailer, and finally on the concrete floor of the Convention Center.

I'm laying on the ground screaming in pain!  My parents turn around when they hear the cries and discover it's their child who is making all the racket.  My dad reaches down to pick me up and helps me stand on the platform. 

I then have a conversation that goes like this:
Mom: Stop crying!  You're acting like a baby!  What's the matter with you?  Shut your mouth!  I'll give you something to cry about!
Me (sobbing uncontrollably): There's s-s-something running d-d-down my back!
Mom (eyes grow wide): OH SHIT!

I black out at this point.  I wake up in a hospital while a doctor is coming at me with a large needle to numb my skull so he can put in 8 stitches.  Thank the heavens that it was January in MN, and we had only been at the show for a few minutes.  I didn't even have time to take my jacket off, and I think the hood may have saved me!

I hate the Boat Show.  I love my husband.  2012, the year of extremes!  Game On.

Love Songs

Love songs are not always about a relationship between a boy and a girl. Sometimes they are about a father and a daughter. Sometimes they are about sisters. And sometimes they are about friends.

Keri Noble wrote and sings a song called "Watch Me Walk." It's on her self titled album (available at iTunes... shameless plug for a fan-freaking-tastic artist). This song brings me to tears. It's about a relationship that has ended, and she's walking away.

At first I related it to a broken marriage. I'd listen and think, "I never, ever want to feel the need or desire to walk away from my marriage." But as I listened more and more, I related it to the broken relationship between me and my parents. And as much as it sucks that they are not in my life anymore, I'm no longer being suffocated with lies, manipulation, or jealousy. I never wanted to walk away. It wasn't something I was excited to do, but in the end, it was the right thing to do.

I'm a firm believer in breaking ties from toxic relationships. I believe in a healthy mental and emotional life. Abuse sucks, whether it's physical or emotional. And if someone close to me needs to walk away from a relationship that is abusive, I will support that person.

It's not easy. But as Keri sings, "I'm alright with consequences, Better than these fences, Straddling the great unknown, and playing it safe".

I'm a big kid now

Last week I found a sock. I found this sock under a bed. This bed is in our guest room, and the sock was a white bootie with a pink toe and heel. I knew immediately that the sock belongs to my sister. For those of you who know me well, know that my older sister is one of my closest friends. And for those of you who know both of us, know that she moved into our home earlier this year to separate from her husband.

I'll cut to the chase and tell you that her separation story has a happy ending. She and my brother in law are doing great back in their own home. As I like to tell people who ask how they are doing, "They are fighting like normal people do." Her story of this journey can be found on her blog (specifically during March and April).

But my story of this sock is a little different. I saw this sock, and was hit with a wave of memories. Memories full of tears, memories full of laughter. See the sock was a reminder that my sister came to me when she was in desperate need of support. She looked to her little sister to be a shoulder to cry on, a voice of reason, and comic relief. And during the time that she stayed with us I was forced to grow up quickly.

There have been other times during my life that I was forced to grow up quickly. Seeing the lone sock under the bed reminded me of some of those times:

• Like the time that I was 11 years old and my sister was in a car accident. I was brought to the funeral home to help pick out a coffin for my stillborn niece. Grew up fast there.
• Or what about the time I wrote a letter to my 8th grade English teacher about how awful my mom was to me. My teacher ignored my cry for help and I was forced to grow up and deal with my mom on my own. Grew up fast again.
• There was also a time that I finally had enough courage to state an emotional boundary to my parents and I let them know that I no longer wanted a relationship with my mom. It took courage to look at my Dad and let him know that I wanted her out of my life, but that I still wanted to build a relationship with him. I grew up so fast when his response was "It's either both of us or nothing."

The sock reminded me of a lot of things. Most of all it reminded me that I'm not the little girl I once was. Instead, I'm a woman... still growing up.

Honesty: the best policy

Telling the truth can be easy, hard, scary, helpful, and sometimes it can even be healing. Tonight I was able to tell the truth about something that in the end made me feel very whole and a bit healed.

I was approached by an old family acquaintance tonight after playing a game of volleyball. As I was giving the quick "this is where my life has gone over the past 10 years" speech I could feel that one subject would be sure to come up. And it did. Below is the conversation we had. I'll call this woman Shelly for sake of anonymity.

Shelly: Well, it was nice to see you. Tell your mom I said, "Hi".

Me: oh, uh, okay.

Shelly: Oh, don't you talk to your mom?

Me: Uh, (and this is where I'm hit in the head with confidence) no. No, I don't talk to her.

Shelly: Oh, really?! Well, is she okay, are your parents still together?

Me: Yeah, I think so. I think they are still in Buffalo. I really don't have a relationship with them. I finally decided that enough was enough. It was too toxic.

Shelly: Oh. Hmm, well, how is your sister?

Me: Great! She and her husband are raising their 3 kids in Shakopee.

Shelly: Well, does she talk to your mom?

Me: No. Some terrible things have happened in recent years that caused us to make a break from that relationship. My mom has some mental issues, sicknesses that she doesn't address. She doesn't take care of herself, and is very toxic.

Shelly: Yeah! She and Suzy were always a couple of nutcases.

And this is where we move out of the subject and back into less heavy conversation. But it got me thinking about how good it felt to tell the truth. It was quite a weight lifted from my shoulders to not lie about my lack of relationship with my parents. And it felt even better to be open about why there isn't a relationship there. I don't have to lie to protect them. Her illness is not my fault, nor is it my responsibility.

It hasn't been, and isn't always, easy to not have my parents in my life. I miss my Dad at times. He and I were always close. I miss celebrating with him, and his advice.

And I certainly miss the mom I could have had. I miss the mother figure that would have been my friend and not my enemy. The mother who would have shared things with me, instead of selfishly ruining events. I miss the mother who wouldn't compete against me. I miss the mother who could have taught me life lessons on how to really love, and how to be a good friend. The mother who could answer any question I had about life, and one who would be proud of me. I miss something I never had.

But tonight it was healing for me to tell the truth. Tonight, honesty was by far the best policy.