Monika Basile's Blog: Confessions of a Bleeding Heart, page 9
February 24, 2011
Tattoos and Other Tales
Hey, Mom and Dad? Now don’t get mad but…I got a tattoo.
I know. I know. I know. I’m too old for this and it’s permanent and I didn’t even get it in a truly hidden place. It’s on my leg and I can’t erase it. It was a gift and it actually reminds me of other gifts. So bare with me as I share the meaning—and it really means a whole lot if you see the bigger picture…
These past few years have been an absolute hell for too many reasons—so many reasons. I have been angry a lot—angry at life and the way everything seems to be turning out and challenging me at every turn, angry that there is this amount of hurt in one woman’s life and angry at God. I felt like he had taken his eyes off me to allow me to go through the tragedies I have had to endure. I even said it out loud one day when I was watching the sparrows flit around the patio at the group home. Sitting there in the midst of a heart break, I whispered those words out loud, “Your eye is on the sparrow God, but surely you have taken them off me. You have forgotten me.”
And then God decided to surprise me and show me otherwise.
I am not sure exactly when it started. I only know when I noticed and decided something strange was going on. I noticed sparrows suddenly everywhere when I had not noticed them before. Last summer, sitting on my steps, gazing at my asphalt garden I noticed hundreds of sparrows in the parking lot making weird formations. They flew from wire, to building and then to the top of my car. Back and forth and back and forth and it was one of the oddest things I had ever seen. I thought it was isolated. It wasn’t.
Even the girls commented on the strangeness when we sat on those rusted metal steps on and off all this summer and fall. As long as we sat there, the sparrows were there and they were constantly swarming where there are no trees or grass or bushes.
One night, I was taking my youngest daughter to a friend’s. We got in the car and something flew past her head tangling in her hair and then into the back of the station wagon. She screamed in near hysteria thinking it was a bat. I opened the hatch and to my surprise a sparrow flew out.
At the group home, the sparrows suddenly seemed to swarm the bushes and patio. Yes, we feed the birds there. We have always fed the birds and wild life. But the sparrows gathered in droves and would roll in the dirt and burrow. In all the years I have been there, there never has been such an abundance of them. The client’s would laugh and laugh but I began to think that maybe someone was trying to tell me something.
A few days after the sparrow got in my car, I was sitting in the car with my cousin. I was telling her about the odd sparrow incidents. I laughed kind of half-heartedly but I finally admitted, “You know, I keep thinking all these sparrows hanging around have something to do with me. I kept telling God he took his eyes off me.”
Suddenly, I noticed a sparrow sitting in a bush nearby. It appeared to be looking right at me. Again I laughed and said, “I must be nuts because I swear that damn bird is staring right at me…”
My cousin said, “Monika, it is. That is freaky!”
Just then, that little sparrow hopped off the branch of the bush, and hopped over to my car and then tried to fly in the car window where I was sitting. I got the window up before it got inside.
I shouted out then, “Okay! Okay already! You’re looking at me. I get it!” and I did get it. I do get it.
His eye is on the sparrow; surely his eye is on me. It’s a permanent situation—like my tattoo.
I won’t ever forget that again.
Monika M. Basile
I know. I know. I know. I’m too old for this and it’s permanent and I didn’t even get it in a truly hidden place. It’s on my leg and I can’t erase it. It was a gift and it actually reminds me of other gifts. So bare with me as I share the meaning—and it really means a whole lot if you see the bigger picture…
These past few years have been an absolute hell for too many reasons—so many reasons. I have been angry a lot—angry at life and the way everything seems to be turning out and challenging me at every turn, angry that there is this amount of hurt in one woman’s life and angry at God. I felt like he had taken his eyes off me to allow me to go through the tragedies I have had to endure. I even said it out loud one day when I was watching the sparrows flit around the patio at the group home. Sitting there in the midst of a heart break, I whispered those words out loud, “Your eye is on the sparrow God, but surely you have taken them off me. You have forgotten me.”
And then God decided to surprise me and show me otherwise.
I am not sure exactly when it started. I only know when I noticed and decided something strange was going on. I noticed sparrows suddenly everywhere when I had not noticed them before. Last summer, sitting on my steps, gazing at my asphalt garden I noticed hundreds of sparrows in the parking lot making weird formations. They flew from wire, to building and then to the top of my car. Back and forth and back and forth and it was one of the oddest things I had ever seen. I thought it was isolated. It wasn’t.
Even the girls commented on the strangeness when we sat on those rusted metal steps on and off all this summer and fall. As long as we sat there, the sparrows were there and they were constantly swarming where there are no trees or grass or bushes.
One night, I was taking my youngest daughter to a friend’s. We got in the car and something flew past her head tangling in her hair and then into the back of the station wagon. She screamed in near hysteria thinking it was a bat. I opened the hatch and to my surprise a sparrow flew out.
At the group home, the sparrows suddenly seemed to swarm the bushes and patio. Yes, we feed the birds there. We have always fed the birds and wild life. But the sparrows gathered in droves and would roll in the dirt and burrow. In all the years I have been there, there never has been such an abundance of them. The client’s would laugh and laugh but I began to think that maybe someone was trying to tell me something.
A few days after the sparrow got in my car, I was sitting in the car with my cousin. I was telling her about the odd sparrow incidents. I laughed kind of half-heartedly but I finally admitted, “You know, I keep thinking all these sparrows hanging around have something to do with me. I kept telling God he took his eyes off me.”
Suddenly, I noticed a sparrow sitting in a bush nearby. It appeared to be looking right at me. Again I laughed and said, “I must be nuts because I swear that damn bird is staring right at me…”
My cousin said, “Monika, it is. That is freaky!”
Just then, that little sparrow hopped off the branch of the bush, and hopped over to my car and then tried to fly in the car window where I was sitting. I got the window up before it got inside.
I shouted out then, “Okay! Okay already! You’re looking at me. I get it!” and I did get it. I do get it.
His eye is on the sparrow; surely his eye is on me. It’s a permanent situation—like my tattoo.
I won’t ever forget that again.
Monika M. Basile
February 12, 2011
15,329 Ways to Wind up in the Same Place...
I think if I see one more article about Valentine’s Day I will scream! (Except for my own)
Let’s just add a few numbers to it to make it more believable.
86 ways to catch a man by the big V Day.
13 ways to make your woman crazy with happiness by the big plans for the romantic weekend.
47 of the worst gifts you could ever buy that will send your true love out screaming in the streets.
6,792 reasons to be happy you are single on Valentine’s Day.
The headlines scream it from every magazine and internet website. How do they know and who the hell are they asking to actually find out what they think they know?
Yet—ashamedly, I have been sucked in and reading these obnoxious articles. I have yet to find one bit of truth in any of it though. Why do I continue to explore what anyone has to say about these matters when I find most of it pure idiocy?
Here is what I have to say about it because I feel the need to add my two cents:
There is no secret formula to finding a man, a woman or your soul mate. It just happens or it doesn’t happen. I bet no one will post that as a draw in for their magazine. It is the truth. If we are all expected to follow some mysterious ritual and dance naked by the light of the moon to bring us our true love—I am sure we all would have done it by now. Instead, we are ourselves, we continue to wait and we continue to hope while we wait.
Romantic plans—the kind where everything has an itinerary down to the time when everyone uses the bathroom, showers and falls asleep—never work. Nothing ever happens as we plan. Life has other ideas and its how we handle all the upsets despite our well thought out plans that matters. The romantic part is simply having someone to go through the catastrophe with you and be able to laugh about it rather than cry.
How can anyone receive a bad gift? If you have thought enough of me to actually present me with something as a token of your affection—I appreciate it. And for those who lament that the flowers are cheesy, the candy is too fattening and the cards are unimaginative—you didn’t deserve it in the first place then. Now that doesn’t mean I want someone to give me a dirty sock wrapped up in shiny paper. But hey—if you think of me…it counts.
The last thing—being single and looking at all the reasons this is a good thing to be on Valentine’s Day. Let’s face it, being alone on Valentine’s Day down right sucks and no one wants to be. How did anyone come up with more than one reason? There is only one true good reason that I can think of that would be good. You could be with the wrong person and know it. I would rather be single than have that.
Have a happy Valentine’s Day. Do it right this year. Simply love and be thankful someone loves you back.
Monika M. Basile
Let’s just add a few numbers to it to make it more believable.
86 ways to catch a man by the big V Day.
13 ways to make your woman crazy with happiness by the big plans for the romantic weekend.
47 of the worst gifts you could ever buy that will send your true love out screaming in the streets.
6,792 reasons to be happy you are single on Valentine’s Day.
The headlines scream it from every magazine and internet website. How do they know and who the hell are they asking to actually find out what they think they know?
Yet—ashamedly, I have been sucked in and reading these obnoxious articles. I have yet to find one bit of truth in any of it though. Why do I continue to explore what anyone has to say about these matters when I find most of it pure idiocy?
Here is what I have to say about it because I feel the need to add my two cents:
There is no secret formula to finding a man, a woman or your soul mate. It just happens or it doesn’t happen. I bet no one will post that as a draw in for their magazine. It is the truth. If we are all expected to follow some mysterious ritual and dance naked by the light of the moon to bring us our true love—I am sure we all would have done it by now. Instead, we are ourselves, we continue to wait and we continue to hope while we wait.
Romantic plans—the kind where everything has an itinerary down to the time when everyone uses the bathroom, showers and falls asleep—never work. Nothing ever happens as we plan. Life has other ideas and its how we handle all the upsets despite our well thought out plans that matters. The romantic part is simply having someone to go through the catastrophe with you and be able to laugh about it rather than cry.
How can anyone receive a bad gift? If you have thought enough of me to actually present me with something as a token of your affection—I appreciate it. And for those who lament that the flowers are cheesy, the candy is too fattening and the cards are unimaginative—you didn’t deserve it in the first place then. Now that doesn’t mean I want someone to give me a dirty sock wrapped up in shiny paper. But hey—if you think of me…it counts.
The last thing—being single and looking at all the reasons this is a good thing to be on Valentine’s Day. Let’s face it, being alone on Valentine’s Day down right sucks and no one wants to be. How did anyone come up with more than one reason? There is only one true good reason that I can think of that would be good. You could be with the wrong person and know it. I would rather be single than have that.
Have a happy Valentine’s Day. Do it right this year. Simply love and be thankful someone loves you back.
Monika M. Basile
February 6, 2011
Tribal Confusions
I think the oldest girl in my odd assorted household said it best, “We are a tribe…”
She pinned the tail on the donkey with that statement. Most people do not understand how the connection among us is as strong as it is since we are not all blood. In our family, when horror hits, we gather round as if we all came from the same place though in reality—we come from very different places.
In days gone by, when a person was without a parent, a sibling, a grandfather, etc., they were taken into another family and told, “You are part of us now.” It didn’t seem unusual like it does now. It used to be a normal thing to take care of others and not something eccentric or noble. It isn’t either of those things. It’s what humanity should be.
Most people on the outside looking in never realize that ties of love bind us intricately and make us forget that we are not related. People wonder all the time how each of us is there--too closely immersed in each other’s lives, to ever walk away easily. Love does not allow it. Love does not allow any of us to turn our backs and forget that we are somehow connected as we were intended to be. Truly.
Our “tribe” does not only consist of those living in my home. They consist of those who we draw to us who have somehow become too important to us to call merely friend. They are the people we bring to us to be part of home.
There are those who call us strange, untraditional, unconventional and a bit crazy. Our home is always filled with chaos and uproar. But mostly it is filled with love and genuine caring and the worry that comes along with actually giving a damn about other people. We laugh so much— more than we cry. We share stories and joys and sorrows and our very lives.
It’s sometimes difficult in situations that arise to explain how we are family without being actual blood family. It is hard to say, “No, I’m not her mother but she is mine.” The children call each other brothers and sisters and people look at us a bit bewildered wondering how that is possible. Yet at the same time, I can’t imagine having our lives any other way.
I am blessed to have a large wonderful blood family. I am blessed they accept and have pulled all of “My People” right into their lives however weird it may seem. And I am blessed to have a “tribe” that continues to grow and add to all of us in the most interesting ways. We are lucky.
Monika M. Basile
She pinned the tail on the donkey with that statement. Most people do not understand how the connection among us is as strong as it is since we are not all blood. In our family, when horror hits, we gather round as if we all came from the same place though in reality—we come from very different places.
In days gone by, when a person was without a parent, a sibling, a grandfather, etc., they were taken into another family and told, “You are part of us now.” It didn’t seem unusual like it does now. It used to be a normal thing to take care of others and not something eccentric or noble. It isn’t either of those things. It’s what humanity should be.
Most people on the outside looking in never realize that ties of love bind us intricately and make us forget that we are not related. People wonder all the time how each of us is there--too closely immersed in each other’s lives, to ever walk away easily. Love does not allow it. Love does not allow any of us to turn our backs and forget that we are somehow connected as we were intended to be. Truly.
Our “tribe” does not only consist of those living in my home. They consist of those who we draw to us who have somehow become too important to us to call merely friend. They are the people we bring to us to be part of home.
There are those who call us strange, untraditional, unconventional and a bit crazy. Our home is always filled with chaos and uproar. But mostly it is filled with love and genuine caring and the worry that comes along with actually giving a damn about other people. We laugh so much— more than we cry. We share stories and joys and sorrows and our very lives.
It’s sometimes difficult in situations that arise to explain how we are family without being actual blood family. It is hard to say, “No, I’m not her mother but she is mine.” The children call each other brothers and sisters and people look at us a bit bewildered wondering how that is possible. Yet at the same time, I can’t imagine having our lives any other way.
I am blessed to have a large wonderful blood family. I am blessed they accept and have pulled all of “My People” right into their lives however weird it may seem. And I am blessed to have a “tribe” that continues to grow and add to all of us in the most interesting ways. We are lucky.
Monika M. Basile
February 2, 2011
The Real Men
The things I admire about men are not what they would ever imagine.
I love a man who can plunge a toilet and actually know what the hell he is doing. I love a man who sits down at new electronic equipment and is determined enough to figure out how to hook it up and get it working. I admire the man who knows that when a car is running funny to check the oil, the fluids and then every thing-a-ma-bob until they get it working again. I am astounded when I watch a man build something and measure and saw and hammer and a few bits of wood, wire, nuts and screws becomes something wondrous like a tree house or a swing set or a beautiful cabinet.
I find it amazing when a man can go to work in a suit and tie and never look uncomfortable or out of place. I like that even if they are clueless on a particular project at a job, they never let anyone see them sweat and still seem professional. I am astounded when he can take a reaming from his boss or superiors and not feel the need to burst into tears. I admire the men who take the time to gain the knowledge to make them successful in whatever they do.
There is…
The man who kisses his kids good night and the one who makes time for his old mother to cut the grass and then sit and chat a minute. The man who plows his neighbor's snow just because he was up first. The man who helps a buddy move even though he is too tired to do so. The man who coaches a little league team and makes a difference by showing good sportsmanship. The man who can say he is sorry when he wrongs someone. The man who pays his child support on time and even gives extra because he knows his kid needs more. The man, who instead of walking away, stands there looking completely out of his element while a woman in his life cries—but he doesn’t walk away, he stays. The man who is courageous when he is terrified.
These are the good men living side by side with us each day. We are not enemies. We are not from other planets. We are merely different.
We women spend too much time man-bashing. We spend too much time lamenting that there are “no good men out there”. There are. There truly are good men in abundance. We women need to realize that instead of being discouraged.
For the ladies who have such men in their lives, you are not holding a one in a million man—but one of a million and more. Appreciate him. Quit crabbing because he leaves his dirty underwear hanging on the bathroom doorknob, that he wants a night out with his friends now and then, that he’s not perfect. Just appreciate it.
And for those of us ladies who haven’t found him yet—believe you will. Believe he actually exists because he does. The good men of the world are alive and well and they are looking for you too.
It isn’t a man’s power or prestige. It isn’t what car he drives or that he has the face of a God. It isn’t his multiple PHD’s or the vacation home in the islands that is attractive to me. None of those things are really that important. It’s who he is.
Oh, and did I mention they smell awfully good too?
Monika M. Basile
I love a man who can plunge a toilet and actually know what the hell he is doing. I love a man who sits down at new electronic equipment and is determined enough to figure out how to hook it up and get it working. I admire the man who knows that when a car is running funny to check the oil, the fluids and then every thing-a-ma-bob until they get it working again. I am astounded when I watch a man build something and measure and saw and hammer and a few bits of wood, wire, nuts and screws becomes something wondrous like a tree house or a swing set or a beautiful cabinet.
I find it amazing when a man can go to work in a suit and tie and never look uncomfortable or out of place. I like that even if they are clueless on a particular project at a job, they never let anyone see them sweat and still seem professional. I am astounded when he can take a reaming from his boss or superiors and not feel the need to burst into tears. I admire the men who take the time to gain the knowledge to make them successful in whatever they do.
There is…
The man who kisses his kids good night and the one who makes time for his old mother to cut the grass and then sit and chat a minute. The man who plows his neighbor's snow just because he was up first. The man who helps a buddy move even though he is too tired to do so. The man who coaches a little league team and makes a difference by showing good sportsmanship. The man who can say he is sorry when he wrongs someone. The man who pays his child support on time and even gives extra because he knows his kid needs more. The man, who instead of walking away, stands there looking completely out of his element while a woman in his life cries—but he doesn’t walk away, he stays. The man who is courageous when he is terrified.
These are the good men living side by side with us each day. We are not enemies. We are not from other planets. We are merely different.
We women spend too much time man-bashing. We spend too much time lamenting that there are “no good men out there”. There are. There truly are good men in abundance. We women need to realize that instead of being discouraged.
For the ladies who have such men in their lives, you are not holding a one in a million man—but one of a million and more. Appreciate him. Quit crabbing because he leaves his dirty underwear hanging on the bathroom doorknob, that he wants a night out with his friends now and then, that he’s not perfect. Just appreciate it.
And for those of us ladies who haven’t found him yet—believe you will. Believe he actually exists because he does. The good men of the world are alive and well and they are looking for you too.
It isn’t a man’s power or prestige. It isn’t what car he drives or that he has the face of a God. It isn’t his multiple PHD’s or the vacation home in the islands that is attractive to me. None of those things are really that important. It’s who he is.
Oh, and did I mention they smell awfully good too?
Monika M. Basile
January 28, 2011
Mix ups for Match ups
Mix ups for Match ups...
To Whom It May Concern( this is an open letter to Match.com, OKCupid, Plentyoffish, or any other online dating site who presumes to know who would be my best match):
Each of your organizations claims to know my “perfect” match. I think not and you are proving it each day.
Number one: I am a smoker, so when you match me up with someone who finds smoking to be disgusting, I have already lost the game here.
Number two: I like men, and only men. When you match me up with someone whom is bisexual or female—I think you must be unaware of my preference.
Number three: I have many children and I do not desire any more. When you match me up with child haters or even from the other spectrum—men who want a million more—again, this is not a clever match.
Number four: I answered on your questionnaire that I will not relocate to China or any other far off land and that I am only willing to travel within a fifty mile radius. Your scientific “perfect” match with the man who lives in Florida, who also likes dining out, is still not a good idea.
Number five: I am curvy and voluptuous. The matches with the men, whom prefer only slender, athletic build and thin women, already hate my guts.
Number five: You asked if I would date a man who is an atheist. I stated that this is one thing I can not budge on, that I must have a man who believes in God. So the matches you sent me of the variety of men who think my faith is “stupid” were only a waste of my time and theirs. And yes I know Satan worshippers actually must believe in God to worship the opposite, this obviously was not what I had in mind.
Number six: Just because a man likes to dine out and read does not mean that we are ideally suited—especially if he can’t stand curvy, smoking, God believing, too many children, not rich women.
Number seven: Just because I am a writer and creative, am five three and am flaky, does not mean I want a carbon copy of myself to date. If that were the case, I would forgo dating and not be in need of your services.
Number eight: “I am drama free” This statement should be black balled directly from each and every profile. Life is a drama and if you have no drama in your life then you are dead or the walking undead. I clearly state in my profile that I live in chaos so quit sending me matches who want nothing but peace.
Number nine: You asked what I am looking for. I answered a long term relationship. Matching me up with “sex partners” could turn into a long term relationship but I highly doubt it. I can find that kind of “relationship” well on my own at any of the local bars.
In conclusion, I ask that you review my profile again and send me matches accordingly.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Monika M. Basile
To Whom It May Concern( this is an open letter to Match.com, OKCupid, Plentyoffish, or any other online dating site who presumes to know who would be my best match):
Each of your organizations claims to know my “perfect” match. I think not and you are proving it each day.
Number one: I am a smoker, so when you match me up with someone who finds smoking to be disgusting, I have already lost the game here.
Number two: I like men, and only men. When you match me up with someone whom is bisexual or female—I think you must be unaware of my preference.
Number three: I have many children and I do not desire any more. When you match me up with child haters or even from the other spectrum—men who want a million more—again, this is not a clever match.
Number four: I answered on your questionnaire that I will not relocate to China or any other far off land and that I am only willing to travel within a fifty mile radius. Your scientific “perfect” match with the man who lives in Florida, who also likes dining out, is still not a good idea.
Number five: I am curvy and voluptuous. The matches with the men, whom prefer only slender, athletic build and thin women, already hate my guts.
Number five: You asked if I would date a man who is an atheist. I stated that this is one thing I can not budge on, that I must have a man who believes in God. So the matches you sent me of the variety of men who think my faith is “stupid” were only a waste of my time and theirs. And yes I know Satan worshippers actually must believe in God to worship the opposite, this obviously was not what I had in mind.
Number six: Just because a man likes to dine out and read does not mean that we are ideally suited—especially if he can’t stand curvy, smoking, God believing, too many children, not rich women.
Number seven: Just because I am a writer and creative, am five three and am flaky, does not mean I want a carbon copy of myself to date. If that were the case, I would forgo dating and not be in need of your services.
Number eight: “I am drama free” This statement should be black balled directly from each and every profile. Life is a drama and if you have no drama in your life then you are dead or the walking undead. I clearly state in my profile that I live in chaos so quit sending me matches who want nothing but peace.
Number nine: You asked what I am looking for. I answered a long term relationship. Matching me up with “sex partners” could turn into a long term relationship but I highly doubt it. I can find that kind of “relationship” well on my own at any of the local bars.
In conclusion, I ask that you review my profile again and send me matches accordingly.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Monika M. Basile
January 22, 2011
Pulling Through
Will I make it?
This is a question I recently heard a young woman ask of herself. I have asked myself that same question as I am sure many women do.
I wonder why we as women have such a shaky faith in ourselves to get through the hardest times of our lives. Why is it that in the midst of chaos or heartache, there is a voice that whispers, “Will I make it?” and then we wait—to see if an answer comes out of the darkest moments? If we are still here, then obviously the answer has come.
I am not sure if men have that same voice or not. I have never been a man so I can not presume to know what they think. It just appears that men have much more faith in themselves. I hear them say, “I’ll figure it out.” and “I’ll find the answer.” I rarely hear them say, “I don’t know if I’ll survive this.” Is it a conditioning in their lives or is there something, inherent inside of men, to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel even if it’s just a tiny pin prick and barely visible?
When each of my daughters was born, I held them in my arms and I wept. Yes, out of joy but also out of sadness. I thought about every woman in those first moments. I thought of each heartache that a woman experiences. I thought that someday these girl children of mine would know exactly what it really was to hurt and hurt deeply. I wished with everything inside me to prevent it. That isn’t possible, I know. Will they make it? I’m not sure, but I sure as hell will be pulling these young women through all of it as I do with all of the women in my life. Just as so many women have done in my life.
Men wonder why we women rally round when one of us is in need. They wonder how a battle two years long of not speaking to each other is forgotten in seconds when we hear, “I don’t know if I’ll get through this…” They wonder why a middle of the night phone call doesn’t bother us if we can be of help. They wonder how we can cry so easily with the dear women in our world. It’s because each of us are hearing the echo of our own little voice of doubt. We live with this fear of if one of us does not make it, then we might not either. And we know too, that any little thing we can do to make it better will make some part of it better.
The women in our lives insist we keep going even when we want most of all to give up. They pull us through and out and up and away from what we cannot handle alone and from what we feel we will not survive. And the men in our lives stand beside us, behind us, in front of us—believing whole heartedly that we will get through it.
Will you make it? I insist, along with every woman in your life around you.
Monika M. Basile
This is a question I recently heard a young woman ask of herself. I have asked myself that same question as I am sure many women do.
I wonder why we as women have such a shaky faith in ourselves to get through the hardest times of our lives. Why is it that in the midst of chaos or heartache, there is a voice that whispers, “Will I make it?” and then we wait—to see if an answer comes out of the darkest moments? If we are still here, then obviously the answer has come.
I am not sure if men have that same voice or not. I have never been a man so I can not presume to know what they think. It just appears that men have much more faith in themselves. I hear them say, “I’ll figure it out.” and “I’ll find the answer.” I rarely hear them say, “I don’t know if I’ll survive this.” Is it a conditioning in their lives or is there something, inherent inside of men, to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel even if it’s just a tiny pin prick and barely visible?
When each of my daughters was born, I held them in my arms and I wept. Yes, out of joy but also out of sadness. I thought about every woman in those first moments. I thought of each heartache that a woman experiences. I thought that someday these girl children of mine would know exactly what it really was to hurt and hurt deeply. I wished with everything inside me to prevent it. That isn’t possible, I know. Will they make it? I’m not sure, but I sure as hell will be pulling these young women through all of it as I do with all of the women in my life. Just as so many women have done in my life.
Men wonder why we women rally round when one of us is in need. They wonder how a battle two years long of not speaking to each other is forgotten in seconds when we hear, “I don’t know if I’ll get through this…” They wonder why a middle of the night phone call doesn’t bother us if we can be of help. They wonder how we can cry so easily with the dear women in our world. It’s because each of us are hearing the echo of our own little voice of doubt. We live with this fear of if one of us does not make it, then we might not either. And we know too, that any little thing we can do to make it better will make some part of it better.
The women in our lives insist we keep going even when we want most of all to give up. They pull us through and out and up and away from what we cannot handle alone and from what we feel we will not survive. And the men in our lives stand beside us, behind us, in front of us—believing whole heartedly that we will get through it.
Will you make it? I insist, along with every woman in your life around you.
Monika M. Basile
January 14, 2011
The Real Men
The things I admire about men are not what they would ever imagine.
I love a man who can plunge a toilet and actually know what the hell he is doing. I love a man who sits down at new electronic equipment and is determined enough to figure out how to hook it up and get it working. I admire the man who knows that when a car is running funny to check the oil, the fluids and then every thing-a-ma-bob until they get it working again. I am astounded when I watch a man build something and measure and saw and hammer and a few bits of wood, wire, nuts and screws become something wondrous like a tree house or a swing set or a beautiful cabinet.
I find it amazing when a man can go to work in a suit and tie and never look uncomfortable or out of place. I like that even if they are clueless on a particular project at a job, they never let anyone see them sweat and still seem professional. I am astounded that when he can take a reaming from his boss or superiors and not feel the need to burst into tears. I admire the men who take the time to gain the knowledge to make them successful in whatever they do.
There is…
The man who kisses his kids good night and the one who makes time for his old mother to cut the grass and then sit and chat a minute. The man who plows his neighbors snow just because he was up first. The man who helps a buddy move even though he is too tired to do so. The man who coaches a little league team and makes a difference by showing good sportsman ship. The man who can say he is sorry when he wrongs someone. The man who pays his child support on time and even gives extra because he knows his kid needs more. The man, who instead of walking away, stands there looking completely out of his element while a woman in his life cries—but he doesn’t walk away, he stays. The man who is courageous when he is terrified.
These are the good men living side by side with us each day. We are not enemies. We are not from other planets. We are merely different.
We women spend too much time man-bashing. We spend too much time lamenting that there are “no good men out there”. There are. There truly are good men in abundance. We women need to realize that instead of being discouraged.
For the ladies who have such men in their lives, you are not holding a one in a million man—but one of a million and more. Appreciate him. Quit crabbing because he leaves his dirty underwear hanging on the bathroom doorknob, that he wants a night out with his friends now and then, that he’s not perfect. Just appreciate it.
And for those of us ladies who haven’t found him yet—believe you will. Believe he actually exists because he does. The good men of the world are alive and well and they are looking for you too.
It isn’t a man’s power or prestige. It isn’t what car he drives or that he has the face of a God. It isn’t his multiple PHD’s or the vacation home in the islands that is attractive to me. It isn’t really that important. It’s who he is.
Oh, and did I mention they smell awfully good too?
Monika M. Basile
I love a man who can plunge a toilet and actually know what the hell he is doing. I love a man who sits down at new electronic equipment and is determined enough to figure out how to hook it up and get it working. I admire the man who knows that when a car is running funny to check the oil, the fluids and then every thing-a-ma-bob until they get it working again. I am astounded when I watch a man build something and measure and saw and hammer and a few bits of wood, wire, nuts and screws become something wondrous like a tree house or a swing set or a beautiful cabinet.
I find it amazing when a man can go to work in a suit and tie and never look uncomfortable or out of place. I like that even if they are clueless on a particular project at a job, they never let anyone see them sweat and still seem professional. I am astounded that when he can take a reaming from his boss or superiors and not feel the need to burst into tears. I admire the men who take the time to gain the knowledge to make them successful in whatever they do.
There is…
The man who kisses his kids good night and the one who makes time for his old mother to cut the grass and then sit and chat a minute. The man who plows his neighbors snow just because he was up first. The man who helps a buddy move even though he is too tired to do so. The man who coaches a little league team and makes a difference by showing good sportsman ship. The man who can say he is sorry when he wrongs someone. The man who pays his child support on time and even gives extra because he knows his kid needs more. The man, who instead of walking away, stands there looking completely out of his element while a woman in his life cries—but he doesn’t walk away, he stays. The man who is courageous when he is terrified.
These are the good men living side by side with us each day. We are not enemies. We are not from other planets. We are merely different.
We women spend too much time man-bashing. We spend too much time lamenting that there are “no good men out there”. There are. There truly are good men in abundance. We women need to realize that instead of being discouraged.
For the ladies who have such men in their lives, you are not holding a one in a million man—but one of a million and more. Appreciate him. Quit crabbing because he leaves his dirty underwear hanging on the bathroom doorknob, that he wants a night out with his friends now and then, that he’s not perfect. Just appreciate it.
And for those of us ladies who haven’t found him yet—believe you will. Believe he actually exists because he does. The good men of the world are alive and well and they are looking for you too.
It isn’t a man’s power or prestige. It isn’t what car he drives or that he has the face of a God. It isn’t his multiple PHD’s or the vacation home in the islands that is attractive to me. It isn’t really that important. It’s who he is.
Oh, and did I mention they smell awfully good too?
Monika M. Basile
January 7, 2011
Because you are Still Here
I keep seeing her stare at me from the picture on my china cabinet. Her smile is vivid in the picture as much as it was in real life. And I wish, how I wish, that she were sitting next to me at my dining room table and laughing with me as we had so many times over the years. She was my best friend, and she died almost three years ago. The missing part hasn’t lessened in the least.
Recently was the anniversary of the last time we went out together. So I am blue, and sad, and laughing through tears as I remember that crazy night. And I want to tell every woman something they should already know; don’t think you have forever because you don’t. Don’t take one moment for granted because you don’t know when it all will end.
Patty and I raised children together, went through divorces together and also learned to date all over in a different era we were both unfamiliar with. We liked to say we were “relationship delayed” as if somehow, twenty years of each of us not dating, we were stuck in teenage girl years as the rules we dated by. We did the typical things all women do, we over analyzed every word a man said. Every action was scrutinized by the “what did he mean by that?” We chatted all hours of the night over the little things that make up a life and the things that make up a relationship. And we grew up together in our last few years we were together as we suffered tragedies and blessings.
Patty was my one and only night out on New Year’s Eve as an adult. On the way to the party, she spoke of her late love of her life that had passed away two months before. She spoke of her last New Year’s Eve with him, “We danced to Al Green, Let’s Stay Together, and we knew it would most likely be our last, but we knew too, that we loved each other more than anything in the world and it would be okay, and that it was worth it. Even losing him, to have had that in my life, it was worth it.”
I am glad that I really listened to Patty all those years. I am glad I really heard the things she said about life and love and relationships. I am glad I was never too busy and neither was she. I am glad there is no regret in my heart that I was not there enough or that I missed any moments. I was there, and I savored each moment. I appreciated her. I felt lucky to know her. We made a difference in each other’s lives.
All of the stories she told me, all of her hurts and joys, I now tell her daughters and my own daughters. I feel blessed to be able to pass it on—to be able to help her daughters know her even better than they already did. I don’t need to help them feel lucky—they already do. But I do try to give the advice their mother gave me.
She went out into the world first on her own and helped guide me through my own private journey. She let me make my own mistakes and never said, “I told you so.” But instead, “It’ll be okay.” She was my voice in the dark, the one I could call day or night. I was hers too. And now I am a voice in the dark in hers and my girls’ lives. I hope I can live up to her legacy and be the comfort she was to me.
I celebrated Patty’s oldest daughters twenty first birthday a few days ago. Patty should have been there with us physically, I kept thinking. I shared with her, her first legal drink. We toasted her mother. We laughed a bit and cried a bit. We missed the other girls not being there with us. But I realized too, that she is always with us. She hasn’t left us after all this time. Her laughter lingers in each of us, her words still are as important today as they were years ago. The place where she used to be isn’t empty of her; it is filled with the love she left behind as she stepped into the next part of her journey. And I do believe, “It will be okay.” as she always told me.
Monika M. Basile
Recently was the anniversary of the last time we went out together. So I am blue, and sad, and laughing through tears as I remember that crazy night. And I want to tell every woman something they should already know; don’t think you have forever because you don’t. Don’t take one moment for granted because you don’t know when it all will end.
Patty and I raised children together, went through divorces together and also learned to date all over in a different era we were both unfamiliar with. We liked to say we were “relationship delayed” as if somehow, twenty years of each of us not dating, we were stuck in teenage girl years as the rules we dated by. We did the typical things all women do, we over analyzed every word a man said. Every action was scrutinized by the “what did he mean by that?” We chatted all hours of the night over the little things that make up a life and the things that make up a relationship. And we grew up together in our last few years we were together as we suffered tragedies and blessings.
Patty was my one and only night out on New Year’s Eve as an adult. On the way to the party, she spoke of her late love of her life that had passed away two months before. She spoke of her last New Year’s Eve with him, “We danced to Al Green, Let’s Stay Together, and we knew it would most likely be our last, but we knew too, that we loved each other more than anything in the world and it would be okay, and that it was worth it. Even losing him, to have had that in my life, it was worth it.”
I am glad that I really listened to Patty all those years. I am glad I really heard the things she said about life and love and relationships. I am glad I was never too busy and neither was she. I am glad there is no regret in my heart that I was not there enough or that I missed any moments. I was there, and I savored each moment. I appreciated her. I felt lucky to know her. We made a difference in each other’s lives.
All of the stories she told me, all of her hurts and joys, I now tell her daughters and my own daughters. I feel blessed to be able to pass it on—to be able to help her daughters know her even better than they already did. I don’t need to help them feel lucky—they already do. But I do try to give the advice their mother gave me.
She went out into the world first on her own and helped guide me through my own private journey. She let me make my own mistakes and never said, “I told you so.” But instead, “It’ll be okay.” She was my voice in the dark, the one I could call day or night. I was hers too. And now I am a voice in the dark in hers and my girls’ lives. I hope I can live up to her legacy and be the comfort she was to me.
I celebrated Patty’s oldest daughters twenty first birthday a few days ago. Patty should have been there with us physically, I kept thinking. I shared with her, her first legal drink. We toasted her mother. We laughed a bit and cried a bit. We missed the other girls not being there with us. But I realized too, that she is always with us. She hasn’t left us after all this time. Her laughter lingers in each of us, her words still are as important today as they were years ago. The place where she used to be isn’t empty of her; it is filled with the love she left behind as she stepped into the next part of her journey. And I do believe, “It will be okay.” as she always told me.
Monika M. Basile
January 1, 2011
Stepping Outside of the Box
I should have known by the screaming at the cat video he sent me thinking it was hysterically funny. Instead, I found it terribly odd and disturbing. Did I go with my gut instinct? Of course not…that would have been too easy.
I chose to go on my first recent adventure in the internet dating world. It should scare me away from it for good, however, I am an eternal optimist and I am also quite brave. On I went anyway, in the hopes that I had misjudged my uncanny sense that something was completely off about it.
It began a little over a week ago—this quest to again get out in the world. I figured in my line of work there is little opportunity to meet people and all of my friends and family are either married or seriously involved. I have internet dated before and actually have some lasting friendships though no romances from those days gone by. I put a brave new face on, answered questionnaires honestly, was succinct and to the point about what I was looking for and posted most recent pictures. I read profiles and this time stepped out of my box and actually sent a message or two out first.
And I did what I have done before, responded politely to each inquiry I received.
Mr. Kitty was not my type. I knew it by sight. His letter was nice and his profile was okay but I had no physical attraction to his photo. He was not ugly, but to me—he was not what I necessarily find attractive. I felt guilty. I was judging someone by their photo and by their uninteresting profile. I had an epiphany—someone is doing the same to me. Someone is looking at my picture and saying to themselves, “Eh, she’s not ugly but not pretty…” Someone is reading my profile and thinking, “Wow that’s a bit direct…” and failing to see my wit or charm. Someone out there, who may be my potential mate, is passing me by without giving me a chance at all based on something superficial.
I stepped outside of my box and gave him my number. We chatted on the phone and he was very funny about much. He also seemed intelligent and had a spoken way with words. We decided to meet.
I suggested Walmart because I needed toilet paper. He was game and thought the idea quite silly. I figured it was public and if I needed to escape I could as needed.
Before our destined meeting time, I received this video which set me completely on edge and my spidey senses told me there was something quite strange about this man.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsiTWI...
Yet—I still went with the heart of an optimist.
We met at the entrance and I felt nothing and chastised myself for not giving it a fair shake, for being superficial.
“I shouldn’t be shopping in this store at all.” He complained. “Everything’s made in China.”
Now the hairs on the back of my neck stood up a bit as his rant grew louder and louder and he knocked over dishes and blenders to show me the bottom of all of them to see the made in China label.
“I hate this store.” He said. I still attempted polite conversation as he shouted his politics in the middle of each aisle.
I had an emergency call from a family member whom is seriously mentally ill. He was upset I answered. I apologized when the call was finished and explained this family member was in serious distress.
Finally, Mr. Kitty started to ask what kinds of medication my family member was taking. I explained and then he asked about the diagnosis and said, “Oh. I have that too. I have been diagnosed for years and usually do really well when I take my medicine.” And Mr. Kitty obviously does NOT take his medication.
We checked out and left the store. Mr. Kitty asked how long I could stay out with him and I told him I needed to take care of my family which wasn’t even a lie. I left and was thankful I didn’t have to lie because I surely would have ended the date as quickly as possible with a bold faced lie if not for an emergency.
I know most would delete their profile after that experience. But—as I said before, I am an optimist and I am brave. I’m not a scaredy cat in the least though from this day forward, I will go with the gut instinct rather than the logical thought I talked myself into.
I don’t need to step outside of the box too far. I only need to listen to my inner voice.
Monika M. Basile
I chose to go on my first recent adventure in the internet dating world. It should scare me away from it for good, however, I am an eternal optimist and I am also quite brave. On I went anyway, in the hopes that I had misjudged my uncanny sense that something was completely off about it.
It began a little over a week ago—this quest to again get out in the world. I figured in my line of work there is little opportunity to meet people and all of my friends and family are either married or seriously involved. I have internet dated before and actually have some lasting friendships though no romances from those days gone by. I put a brave new face on, answered questionnaires honestly, was succinct and to the point about what I was looking for and posted most recent pictures. I read profiles and this time stepped out of my box and actually sent a message or two out first.
And I did what I have done before, responded politely to each inquiry I received.
Mr. Kitty was not my type. I knew it by sight. His letter was nice and his profile was okay but I had no physical attraction to his photo. He was not ugly, but to me—he was not what I necessarily find attractive. I felt guilty. I was judging someone by their photo and by their uninteresting profile. I had an epiphany—someone is doing the same to me. Someone is looking at my picture and saying to themselves, “Eh, she’s not ugly but not pretty…” Someone is reading my profile and thinking, “Wow that’s a bit direct…” and failing to see my wit or charm. Someone out there, who may be my potential mate, is passing me by without giving me a chance at all based on something superficial.
I stepped outside of my box and gave him my number. We chatted on the phone and he was very funny about much. He also seemed intelligent and had a spoken way with words. We decided to meet.
I suggested Walmart because I needed toilet paper. He was game and thought the idea quite silly. I figured it was public and if I needed to escape I could as needed.
Before our destined meeting time, I received this video which set me completely on edge and my spidey senses told me there was something quite strange about this man.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsiTWI...
Yet—I still went with the heart of an optimist.
We met at the entrance and I felt nothing and chastised myself for not giving it a fair shake, for being superficial.
“I shouldn’t be shopping in this store at all.” He complained. “Everything’s made in China.”
Now the hairs on the back of my neck stood up a bit as his rant grew louder and louder and he knocked over dishes and blenders to show me the bottom of all of them to see the made in China label.
“I hate this store.” He said. I still attempted polite conversation as he shouted his politics in the middle of each aisle.
I had an emergency call from a family member whom is seriously mentally ill. He was upset I answered. I apologized when the call was finished and explained this family member was in serious distress.
Finally, Mr. Kitty started to ask what kinds of medication my family member was taking. I explained and then he asked about the diagnosis and said, “Oh. I have that too. I have been diagnosed for years and usually do really well when I take my medicine.” And Mr. Kitty obviously does NOT take his medication.
We checked out and left the store. Mr. Kitty asked how long I could stay out with him and I told him I needed to take care of my family which wasn’t even a lie. I left and was thankful I didn’t have to lie because I surely would have ended the date as quickly as possible with a bold faced lie if not for an emergency.
I know most would delete their profile after that experience. But—as I said before, I am an optimist and I am brave. I’m not a scaredy cat in the least though from this day forward, I will go with the gut instinct rather than the logical thought I talked myself into.
I don’t need to step outside of the box too far. I only need to listen to my inner voice.
Monika M. Basile
December 21, 2010
a Gathering of Angels
There is a privilege in loving someone so much that you are willing to share in their misery.
It is easy, so damn easy to love someone when everything is going good and the world is full of rainbows and butterflies. But the true test of love is to not run away when those you love are in the worst moments of their lives, including when it hurts you to be there.
It is an odd thing I have witnessed lately—these moments, when the shear pain and misery entailed in loving someone is the testimony to the greatest acts of caring. And I guess it is a surprise, though it shouldn’t be, that there are so many people in the world still capable of the great capacity to be there truly through thick and thin.
I have watched a “gathering” of sorts of people loving each other in the deepest times of sadness. Rather than depress me—it fills my heart with a quiet joy. It makes me feel blessed to have the privilege of watching such miracles and to also be a part of them.
I have been visiting the psych ward inpatient unit each evening. Someone I love has been there in the recent months. I have watched so many families come and go and have watched those who have no one to come and go. I have watched the faithfulness in love and I have taken part.
A woman in particular, extremely ill, many days she calls her husband names. He brings to her each day a bag of potato chips, a Starbucks coffee and a candy bar. Her favorites. Sometimes she is aware of him and hates him and many times she is lost in her own world. I watched this man lose patience and walk away from the double locked unit, but wait in the hall for her to calm down, unable to leave her. And the last night I visited, when her memory was clear and quiet, I watched them holding hands and whispering as they must have done when they were young together. I could see in her face who she used to be and that she is beautiful.
My dear uncle died a few weeks ago. My family gathered, friends, his children and his wife to be with him at the end of his life. And in the midst of the misery, the greatest love shines so dominantly obvious. I watched my aunt’s face; tenderness is never hidden by tears. Love is never hidden by pain. And I thought how lucky we all are to be brave enough to be here. There are so many who can’t, so many who are unable to bare the awfulness of it all. Yet, it is simply a privilege to be there and not only a heartache. Someone entering the world is a physical pain but leaving it is a heart pain. In the faces gathered are the touches of love in their tears. Grief is the deepest part of love and it leaves a permanent mark on us as it should.
I have witnessed in the past few months, old grudges fall away, forgiveness granted, and people re-enter into others lives because of miserable circumstances. I have been blessed to notice how the people we love come running even when they are mad at us. I have realized that no matter what the distance between people—many are willing to bridge it to be part of our hurts.
We gather to show our love—not only at happy times but at heinous ones too. We people of this world. We are not the pathetic specs of humanity that some believe we are. We are all connected by hurt and pain, joy and life. And we are luckiest when we love deeply enough to stand beside or in the middle of someone’s misery—just as lucky as when we are part of their happiness. When we love, we are never alone. We instead become part of the gathering of life.
Monika M. Basile
It is easy, so damn easy to love someone when everything is going good and the world is full of rainbows and butterflies. But the true test of love is to not run away when those you love are in the worst moments of their lives, including when it hurts you to be there.
It is an odd thing I have witnessed lately—these moments, when the shear pain and misery entailed in loving someone is the testimony to the greatest acts of caring. And I guess it is a surprise, though it shouldn’t be, that there are so many people in the world still capable of the great capacity to be there truly through thick and thin.
I have watched a “gathering” of sorts of people loving each other in the deepest times of sadness. Rather than depress me—it fills my heart with a quiet joy. It makes me feel blessed to have the privilege of watching such miracles and to also be a part of them.
I have been visiting the psych ward inpatient unit each evening. Someone I love has been there in the recent months. I have watched so many families come and go and have watched those who have no one to come and go. I have watched the faithfulness in love and I have taken part.
A woman in particular, extremely ill, many days she calls her husband names. He brings to her each day a bag of potato chips, a Starbucks coffee and a candy bar. Her favorites. Sometimes she is aware of him and hates him and many times she is lost in her own world. I watched this man lose patience and walk away from the double locked unit, but wait in the hall for her to calm down, unable to leave her. And the last night I visited, when her memory was clear and quiet, I watched them holding hands and whispering as they must have done when they were young together. I could see in her face who she used to be and that she is beautiful.
My dear uncle died a few weeks ago. My family gathered, friends, his children and his wife to be with him at the end of his life. And in the midst of the misery, the greatest love shines so dominantly obvious. I watched my aunt’s face; tenderness is never hidden by tears. Love is never hidden by pain. And I thought how lucky we all are to be brave enough to be here. There are so many who can’t, so many who are unable to bare the awfulness of it all. Yet, it is simply a privilege to be there and not only a heartache. Someone entering the world is a physical pain but leaving it is a heart pain. In the faces gathered are the touches of love in their tears. Grief is the deepest part of love and it leaves a permanent mark on us as it should.
I have witnessed in the past few months, old grudges fall away, forgiveness granted, and people re-enter into others lives because of miserable circumstances. I have been blessed to notice how the people we love come running even when they are mad at us. I have realized that no matter what the distance between people—many are willing to bridge it to be part of our hurts.
We gather to show our love—not only at happy times but at heinous ones too. We people of this world. We are not the pathetic specs of humanity that some believe we are. We are all connected by hurt and pain, joy and life. And we are luckiest when we love deeply enough to stand beside or in the middle of someone’s misery—just as lucky as when we are part of their happiness. When we love, we are never alone. We instead become part of the gathering of life.
Monika M. Basile
