The Lost Generation

I stumbled upon this meme today. My first reaction was, 'Yes! They should do that!'  Then I started reading the comments accompanying the post.  Man are people ever heated about this topic.  What I hope to be just a very vocal minority blames people for shirking the responsibility of parenting and leaving it up to educators.  I'll give an example of the mindless prattle being ignorantly spewed forth.  I think it sums up the emotions of the peanut gallery rather nicely: 

Why is it the school's responsibility to raise our children and teach them the things parents should be? Come on people! Wake up and teach your children these things! No one else should be responsible for it but the parents. If the parents can't handle it, then maybe they shouldn't have been one to begin with. --Jenn Fulton

Dear Jenn: No, some people shouldn’t be parents to begin with.  But that doesn’t stop stupid people from breeding.  Do you really want to deny a scared teenager help just because his/her parents are tools?  Maybe you’re the one who needs to ‘wake up’.

Children don’t decide what circumstances they are born into.  They don’t get to pick their parents.  They don’t choose to be born into poverty or abuse.  They can't control if their parents are present or absent, whether physically or emotionally.  I completely agree that parents SHOULD be responsible for raising and protecting their children.  But what should be, more often than not, is not what is.

So, let's all just agree that children deserve help from someone and that that someone might not necessarily be a parent.

That being said, let's address the kids themselves.  We as a society have already decided that we need to talk to our teens about sex (or abstinence), drugs, peer pressure, and bullying.  Why are we so afraid to talk about mental health?  Topics like depression and anxiety have been clouded in shame and this does a severe disservice to our children.

I didn't have the best childhood, but I knew that my parents loved me.  They told me I was smart and beautiful and capable of great things.  But I didn't believe them.  I spent my every waking moment comparing myself to the kids that I felt were smarter than me (I'm looking at you, Shannon). and the kids that were prettier than me (like Kelly's natural beauty) and the ones I felt were more capable of great things than I would ever be (if only I had Damon's talent).  My parents spent so much time telling me how great I am, but they never stopped to ask how I felt about the matter.  My mother was of the Tom Cruise school of thought when it came to psychiatry.  If you're sad, just think about something else.  Therapy and drugs are for quitters.  She never once discussed mental health in a positive manner with me.

So each day my parents would tell me I was smart and beautiful and capable of great things, just like good parents should.  Then they would pat me on the head and push me out the door and off to school to fend for myself.  And each day I would get a little more depressed and anxious, which I had been taught was a weakness, so I felt a little more worthless.  Each day I left another little piece of myself on that front stoop while I silently cried out to be allowed back inside.  

Please don't misunderstand; I'm not blaming my parents.  They did the best they knew how.  I just truly wish that they had been able to talk to me.  Or that I felt I was allowed to talk to them.  Luckily the world has changed a little since I left home almost 20 years ago. Now I speak openly about my struggles with anxiety and depression.  I take medication and I see a therapist.  I am not a bad person, or a weak person, or less of a person because of it.  And neither is anyone else.

I know it's a difficult topic, but I beg of all of you, please talk to the kids in your life about mental health.  I don't care if it's your kids, your nieces and nephews, your best friend's kids, kids at church, whatever.  If you see a teen is struggling, please throw them a rope. Don't just hope someone else will notice and intervene.   Also, don't be surprised if they push your hand away.  They may not be ready to talk about it, but at least you can plant a seed of hope.  Let them know that you will be there to help when they are ready.  

Maybe you feel it's not your place to butt in.  Maybe you feel it should be their parents' responsibility.  Maybe you're right.  But what I hope I've been able to communicate here is that it doesn't matter who SHOULD reach out.  All that matters is that someone does. 

--shared compliments of Crissy Gwinn

Family Ties

I couldn't tell you what year this photo was taken.  I'm thinking 1982? Maybe '83?  Look how much my sister and I love each other.  Just goes to show that seeing isn't always believing.

My sister and I were mortal enemies.  We fought hard.  Boy-fight type hard.  Fists and nails and using bad words that we didn't understand but we knew we weren't supposed to use hard.  Then again we were each other's most loyal protectors.  Once upon a time there was a boy that went to the same babysitter as Heather and I.  That was around the same time this picture was taken.  I don't remember his name but I know I didn't like him.  One day he decided to bite my sister.  Hard.  Hard enough to draw blood.  He bit the wrong person's big sister.  The next day I kicked him repeatedly until he fell to the ground.  Then I started jumping up and down on him while using some more of those bad words I wasn't supposed to use. I should probably feel guilty about it, but I don't.  That's my sister. If anyone is going to hurt her, it's damn well going to be me.

Family can be tricky.  You don't get to chose them.  From the day you are born you immediately become a branch on the old family tree-house of horrors. It's not just my family.  It's not just your family.  It's every family.  Every family has at least a few drops of crazy drifting around in the gene pool.  It's something you can't avoid.  Not even after you grow up and move away. Life will be going along smoothly until one day when you open you mouth and suddenly, inexplicably, you hear your mother's words.  Then shit gets real.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my mother with all my heart.  I loved her right up until that one day in my early 20's when someone said something glaringly obvious to me and I found myself replying, "Yeah. And if frogs had wings they wouldn't whomp their asses when they hopped."  W. T. F.  Thanks a lot, mom. You'll have to forgive her.  She grew up in rural West Virginia where she developed a tendency towards subtle racism and homespun turns of phrase.

Think you can avoid it because you were adopted?  Good luck with that one, buddy.  I have friends that were adopted and their circumstances are just as bleak when it comes to inheriting familial psychosis.  When you adopt a child, they become YOUR child.  I've said it before, but it bears repeating; Blood does not make families.  Love makes families.  So whether you were raised by your grandparents, a wonderful auntie, or complete strangers, you WILL inherit their crazy.

There is a silver lining, though.  You all have the same crazy.  That makes it seem not-so-crazy. You can be yourself with your family.  Up to a point, that is.  NO ONE wants to talk about your unnatural addiction to Barry Manilow records or that you name each of your toes.  They all know about it.  But it's like that night you came home in a squad car.  Everybody knows it happened.  We just don't talk about it.  Unless you're my mom's older sister, Fran.  Then you feel compelled to remind me about that thing that I did back when Reagan was in office that broke my mother's heart and how I should apologize forever to my saint of a mother.  I guess I just messed with the wrong girl's little sister.

In case that hasn't comforted you enough, the second silver lining is that we now have Valium. Valium hit the U.S. market in 1963.  I find it appropriate and comforting that Valium was available the same year that LBJ took over the presidency, Beatlemania swept across North America, and Coca-Cola introduced their first diet product called Tab (not in that order).  This was a country crying out for a crutch and, if there's anything pharmaceutical companies are good at, it's better living though chemistry.

Family is important,  Sometimes you may feel you need to be heavily medicated to deal with them, but deal with them you must.  My sister and I used to be sparring partners once upon a time, but now we care deeply for each other.  Those familial bonds are important.  They are your refuge, your haven.  Family is where you turn when the rest of the world just doesn't make sense. My mom was the youngest of 6 children.  When I was young I felt bad for her having to grow up in such a big family, but now I know just how lucky she was and how lucky I am to have inherited them.  Or maybe that's just the Valium.

My Song

I was watching America's Got Talent last night. They closed the show with a 12 year-old opera singer. Of course they showed the obligatory, tear-inducing back story of the girl before she sang. She spoke of her grandfather who had first played opera for her and encouraged her to sing and develop her skill. Then she spoke of her grandfather's passing and how it affected her. She said that at least when she sings, it's as if her grandfather is still with her. Naturally I (and I assume half of America) was in tears before the kid uttered a single note. I wept because I know exactly how she feels.

This is my mom on the day I was born.  She looks pretty damn good for a woman who just spent 38 hours in labor.

My mom was a singer.  So were her sisters and brothers.  Her whole family is musical.  My mom put my sister and I in our first choir almost as soon as we could speak.  We fell in love with music.  I sang from the age of 5 up until I finished high school. I even competed vocally from 8th grade-12th.  But then I went off to college and became distracted by work and exams and boys.  Music just kind of fell out of my life.  I regret that.

Part of my world came crashing down the day before Thanksgiving in 2001.  My mom went into the hospital for minor out-patient surgery.  At least it was supposed to be minor.  Things went horribly wrong.  She ended up having emergency open heart surgery. They intubated her, which involves sliding a tube down the trachea through the vocal chords.  She was intubated on a ventilator for weeks. It did permanent damage to her vocal chords and she was never able to sing again.  At least, not like she had once upon a time.  She survived, but she was no longer the mom that I knew.  She wasn't the mom that sang me to sleep so many years ago.

My mom died 9 1/2 years later.  It was a Sunday.  Suddenly I had to plan a funeral.  I had to select her favorite verses of scripture, pick the perfect flowers, and, of course, the right music.  That part was easy. My mom and I share the same favorite hymns.  My cousin asked if we would like her to sing at the funeral.  Of course we said yes.  By that point I was exhausted by the process of saying goodbye to my mother so I told my cousin to pick whatever song she would like to perform.  My cousin didn't tell me what she intended to sing, and I didn't ask, so I didn't find out what she had selected until I heard the opening bars. She chose Amazing Grace.  It's actually rather ironic.  My mother hated Amazing Grace.  No, I think hate is too strong a word.  She felt that it was overused and had lost its resonance.  Regardless, she wouldn't have wanted it at her funeral. My sister and I looked at each other wide-eyed with a look of  'Oh s**t.  What do we do?' But we were sitting in a packed funeral chapel surrounded by family and friends and our cousin was already signing her heart out.  So we just sat there and tried not to laugh.  It became our little secret.

Music is a powerful thing.  It has the power to instantly transport you back to a specific moment. Now all it takes is hearing any number of songs that my mom loved and, just like that 12 year-old opera singer, I feel her with me.  The connection is so strong that sometimes I have to remind myself that she's not there. Then again, maybe she is.

I'm no longer part of a formal choir or musical group. I sing for myself now. All the time. Incessantly. Just ask any of my past coworkers. I sing to make myself happy.  I sing because to stop would be to lose a part of myself. There's a song I performed at OMEA competition (all you music nerds are familiar, I'm sure) that I think sums it up.

     For as long as I have music
     As long as there's a song for me to sing
     I can find my way, I can see a brighter day
     The music in my life will set my spirit free.

A Hard Day's Night

I'm not 100% sure how this hedgehog will tie into this post.  I haven't really planned out what I'm about to say.  I'm just going to wing it and hope I reach a semi-plausible and uplifting conclusion.  But, come on, isn't your day already better looking at that adorable face?  If not, well I just can't help you.  You need more professional help than I am licensed to provide.

I've fallen on some tough times recently.  I tore the cornea in my eye (not just scratched, actually tore; as in needed corrective surgery to put it back together) which is excruciatingly painful.  It's pretty hard to look at a computer screen (which just goes to show how dedicated I am to my small handful of followers).  All of my immediate family members have also suffered their own tragedies and challenges recently, but their stories aren't mine to tell.  Just know that the Pirrone family can use all the prayers it can get.

We all fall on tough times.  Some days feel more dire than others.  In those times it can seem impossible to see a way out of the jungle through the tangle of trees and vines.  Life is hard.  It's overwhelming.  But we can't just quit.  We can't allow ourselves to be defeated.  We all have our own coping mechanisms to deal with it.  For those Christians out there I point you towards several verses that have helped me.  

Psalms 34:18 "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Romans 8:37 "No, in all things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."  

Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me." (There.  I managed to tie in the hedgehog. Good for me.)

For those of you who do not subscribe to Christian dogma, this is where friends come in.  When I found out I had cancer I was terrified and felt completely lost.  I still have no idea what my doctor said after she gave me the diagnosis.  Once you hear the word "cancer" everything else fades out and it becomes you and this disease and nothing else.  I learned very quickly, though, that I was not alone. That I had dozens of people there to support me and help me fight the good fight.  Sometimes that meant hugs and tears but sometimes it just meant getting me out for ice cream and a movie (Thanks, Tiff. You're the best.)  Sometimes we simply need to humble ourselves and ask for help.  Often that is the hardest thing, but the most necessary, that we can do.

Why, then, is it so dang hard for me to ask for help?  Not just for me, but for everyone.  Maybe because when you're in the midst of something, your heart is burdened and you don't want to pass that burden on to others.  It's all about pride.  So I'm going to say this, and I'm saying it to myself as much as to all of you.  Get over yourself.  Your friends aren't just there for the crazy dance-all-night, one-tequila-too-many, whose-pants-are-these times. Not the good ones, at least.  The good ones are there for both the ebbs and the flows.  They are there to hold your hand when you are lost and your heart when you are broken.  When you take that away from them it's as if you're saying you don't trust them with your well being.

My best friend lives 200 miles away from me.  That's almost as painful as a torn cornea (almost; a torn cornea is pretty bad) but I know that I can call and cry for an hour and she'll be there.  I am safe with her.  Where she is, I am home.  But it only works when I ask.  

So, please, ask for help.  Don't give in to the weight of the world.  Challenge yourself, but ask for help along the way.  No one knows how to do anything perfectly the first time around.  Don't expect to change the world today.  Just expect to change YOUR world today.  Do that, and you'll accomplish more than you ever imagined.  Even Mr. Hedgehog agrees.

I guess you'll do

This is me and a guy I dated back in college.  We look pretty happy.  Actually, we were pretty happy most of the time.  There were even moments when I thought I might marry him someday.  Things didn't work out, though.  To be honest, I'm happy they didn't.  Don't get me wrong, I loved him. I was 100% all-in, head-over-heels in love with him, but we weren't meant to be together.

He wasn't a bad guy.  He treated me all right. He was, for the most part, respectful, and never ever thought about raising a hand to me.  But we weren't meant to be a couple.  For over a year I put up with his drinking and recreational drug use.  I tolerated coming in second to World of Warcraft.  I defended him over and over again to my friends and family.  We had very different values and aspirations, but I convinced myself that my love was greater than all our differences and that, eventually, he'd change.  Those are the types of things you convince yourself of when you're as young as I was.

Looking back, I think there was a part of me that just didn't want to be alone.  I didn't think very highly of myself which led me to assume that the rest of the world didn't think highly of me either. There I was with a cute guy already committed and willing to attach himself to me and I was too scared to go off in search of something better. I think a lot of fat girls know what I'm talking about. We're so desperate for affection that we say yes to the first person that asks.  I've been doing it most of my life.  I've dated drunks.  I've dated guys that belittled and humiliated me.  I've even dated guys that beat me senseless.  All in the name of not being branded "single".

Here's what I've learned from all that: You will not find a real, worthwhile relationship until you value yourself.  I say 'value' not love because I don't think any woman ever truly loves herself all of the time.  It's important to remember that even when you are unhappy with certain physical or emotional characteristics, you can still value yourself.  Until you recognize your true inner value, you will stay in adequate relationships.  Nothing great ever comes out of deciding "he'll do."  Go watch The Notebook.  Do you think that story would have been as powerful if Noah and Allie had each thought the other was just swell?  Consider Romeo & Juliet or Pyramus & Thisbe.  Both couples would rather die than live in a world without their other half.  Even in the real world, King Edward VIII of England abdicated his throne, a first for the monarchy, in order to wed an American divorcee. His love for her was greater and more valuable to him than the crown.

Bottom line, don't sell yourself short.  You have so many amazing gifts and talents.  You deserve better than someone who is no more than a place filler.  You deserve better than just to be someone else's place filler.  You deserve the longing glances, the butterflies in your stomach, the passion and desire.  You deserve doing stupid things out of love.

I'll be the first to admit that it takes a lot longer waiting for someone special when there are so many possibilities for 'ordinary' out there. But I've gone down the road more traveled and just gotten worn out. Even the break-ups end up being ordinary.  This time I'm waiting for extraordinary.

I'm not saying don't take chances.  When I met the boy in the picture above, romance was the last thing on my mind. But I took a chance and ended up falling in love.  I remember coming home one day and finding a notebook on his desk with the words "This won't work" scribbled over and over again covering the page.  It broke my heart.  So I put a post-it note on top that said "Yes it will.  I believe in you."  In that moment I wanted him to know I believed in him no matter what.  He wasn't just a place filler. Turns out he was just testing out all his pens to see which ones still worked.  In the end I was just a place filler for him.  That's why things didn't work out.  We definitely weren't right for each other, but I got to be in love, if only for a little while, and I walked away knowing a heck of a lot more about who I am and what I need out of a partner.

What I hope you'll take away from all of this is that you are worth the wait.  You are worth flowers and love notes and missing each other when you're apart.  You are worth 'till death do us part'.  It sounds a lot better than 'till something better comes along' and it feels a lot better than 'I guess you'll do'.  So take a deep breath and prepare for the journey.  In the end, it's well worth the wait.

It's a Sham

There's always an element of fear that you need to work a lot until people get sick and tired of you or finally figure out that you're a fraud after all. -- Ben Stiller

Things gained through unjust fraud are never secure. -- Sophocles

I hate to brag, but I gotta tell you, I’m freaking awesome.  I’m pretty. I’m smart. I’m hilarious. I’m driven. I learn fast and work hard.  I’m not too terrible a writer. Yup.  Pretty freaking awesome.

Now that I’ve said all that I can tell you with complete honesty that I am 100% full of crap.  I’m not that pretty; at least boys don’t seem to think so.  I know enough random facts to convince everyone I’m smart, then I leave before there are follow up questions. I don’t learn quickly at all. I actually struggle with learning new things.  I do work hard, and I am hilarious, but those are just to cover up my litany of inadequacies. The majority of my time is spent feeling like a complete and utter fraud. I honestly thought I was the only one that felt that way until I saw a post on a friend’s page about this very issue. They call it Imposter Syndrome. It’s that feeling where no matter how much you accomplish in life, you still feel like you’re tricking everyone and you’re actually not good at anything. Even on those occasions when I do manage to get things right I feel like it was a matter of luck, not skill.

A while back, long before starting this blog, I started a series of posts on FB titled “Notes to My Younger Self”.   It was intended to be a comical/satirical series about things like missing socks and automatic toilets. Then one day I was feeling particularly insecure and unsure of myself so I decided to write to myself about the problem.  It really helped clear my head of some things. Some of you have already read the following, but for those of you that haven’t, I hope it brings you comfort or maybe just lets you know that someone else feels that way, too. Enjoy.

Dear Young Andrea,
There will be many days in your life that you will feel like an imposter. You're just waiting for the world to discover that all your accomplishments are no more than smoke and mirrors. Please understand, everybody feels that way sometimes. EVERYBODY. No matter how bright and shiny everyone else's lives seem, they all feel uncertain inside.

Now, it's okay to feel that way sometimes. It's normal. But there's something I NEED you to remember so put down the Game Boy and pay attention. You are AMAZING. You put yourself through college. You graduated despite all the roadblocks that got put in your way. You've suffered losses but didn't give up. You've had your heart broken, but you're still out there willing to take a chance on love. You've held onto your faith in a loving God despite what feels like constant adversity. You've survived abuse, accidents, even cancer.

You are not a sham. You are the real deal! You have been forgiven and blessed here on Earth but also (and more importantly) in heaven. People love you! You inspire people! So the next time you feel like a big old fake, read this and know just how special you are.
Love Always.
Older Andrea

To See or Not to See

"I am invisible...simply because people refuse to see me."

-- The Invisible Man, Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Can you imagine being invisible?  Never to have your very existence acknowledged?  It is more than just a painful slight.  It leaves one questioning their validity and worth in this world. Others do not value you, so you simply do not exist in their world.  In youth, children are very vocal about their judgments and condemnation. In adulthood we resort to freezing someone out.  Everyone somehow cumulatively decides to pretend an individual doesn't exit. 

It doesn't seem like that much of a problem.  Everyone in your sphere reaching an unspoken mutual agreement to cast you out. Who needs them anyway, right?  But keep in mind, humans are pack animals.  We require interpersonal relationships within the herd in order to exist. Remove those relationships and you remove the victim's motivation for survival.  In the wild, pack animals will banish those who have misbehaved for varying lengths of time as a punishment for misbehavior. Humans, however, do it simply because an individual is different. It is a cruel, inhumane, lonely existence for those shunned by society.

On the other hand there is the life too closely examined.  For those of us on the fringe of society, too much attention is dangerous. It gives our detractors more ammunition to use against us. You begin to feel as though you were under a microscope with each flaw being pointed at and mocked.  When you add in the threat of cyber bullying the attention can be too much to bear.  There's a line from the movie Pretty Woman that comes to mind.  Julia Roberts tells Richard Gere "The bad stuff is easier to believe."  That is more true than we'd like to believe.  Being invisible makes one question their worth, but being scrutinized tells you that you have none.

I'm not sure that one scenario is necessarily better or worse than the other.  Both leave the individual feeling worthless and hopeless.  I've survived both scenarios and I can't say I enjoyed either one.  I DO know what would have changed those situations for me and it only takes 3 words. "I appreciate you."

We all put so much emphasis on saying 'I love you' to others but I think 'I appreciate you' carries just as much, if not more, weight.  Think about it.  How often do you hear those words? 'I love you' is said so often that it becomes a knee-jerk reaction.  "I love you" followed by "Love you, too."  We say it so often it becomes an automatic response. Instead, try telling someone you appreciate them.  It's definitely not something anyone expects to hear out of the blue.  In three words you both acknowledge someone exists and validate their worth.  I appreciate you.  It's so simple, but so unexpected.  It catches the listener off guard and makes them think a moment on what they've just heard.  It makes them feel special and, yes, even loved.

I encourage you to try it out.  With three words you can make a person feel both less invisible and less scrutinized at the same time. It will change the recipient's perspective of themselves, you, and the relationship you share.  With three words you can change someone's world and, as an added bonus, maybe even your own.