Category: deep stuff

Christopher G. Reuther 1973-2007

It’s been almost a year since you left us, Chris, and while I still can’t talk about how it happened without turning into a sobbing wreck, I can talk about you and our adventures without feeling sad.  You were a great friend all those years, from eating too many peppermints in the library in 8th grade with me right up through your travels in April 2007. Thank you for pointing out “Eat Me” on the Beastie Boys album cover and for sitting with me on the bus on field trips instead of with the guys.  Thank you for enduring “The Doors” movie at Biltmore Square even though I’m pretty sure you didn’t want to see that one at all!  Thank you for making me laugh so hard on my wedding day and for all those wonderful photos you took.  Thank you for sending me goofy stuff in the mail and for letting me order the jerk chicken pizza even though I could tell you wanted something else entirely, but the ice cold Kashmir IPA we could both agree upon.

You were special to so many people all around the world, and I know that I was blessed to be your friend.  Miss you, buddy.

… but it’s been on my mind for several hours now.  Something to the effect of:

We spend so much time building our lives (house, car, career), we forget to spend time living our lives.  True, isn’t it?  Gotta look hot, gotta get a spouse, gotta get a house we probably can’t afford but that makes people jealous, gotta have some kids, can’t spend any time with the kids or the spouse because we gotta get ahead at work because we gotta get the coolest SUV that we can’t afford anymore than the house we picked…

I’m just as guilty as anyone else of ignoring real life stuff in order to maintain appearances at times, to get “ahead.”  But ahead of what??  When I’m on my deathbed at 117 years of age, will my daughter’s children take my hand, shake their heads and wish that I’d only had a cooler car?? “Oh, if only Granny Kat had a sunroof and heated seats in that car of hers, her life would’ve been so much richer.”

I have a friend so wrapped up in the illusions and expectations of the world that he’s working his ass off in college at age 30…for a degree he doesn’t really want in a field of study that he doesn’t care about.  Why? Because he HAS to have a college degree, as decreed by THEM, whoever they are, in a “respectable” field of study.  He is stressed beyond belief, frenzied to the point of yammering on about ridiculous jibberish at midnight just to reach some goal he’s supposed to attain.  He isn’t living the life he wants, he’s building a foundation that will put him in a career, because we all have to have a career, not just a job, of course…and it will be a career that is the complete opposite of anything that warms his spirit.  I can tell him that it’s ok to chuck the whole thing and follow his heart, but he worries about what other people will think.

Another friend admits that he is absolutely miserable in his marriage and has been for years, that he’s just marking time until his kids are older (how old? 18? 25?) and it’s ok to get out.  He has the kids, the spouse, a house, the pets, the career, but where is the joy? Is it natural and normal to deprive yourself of happiness in order to paint the picture of a terrific family to the outside world?

Hell if I know.  I work in an environment that has caused me to have such serious and constant stress-related health issues that my doctor’s office knows me by my voice on the phone.  Add to that the dentist that has had to “re-contour” my teeth with his buzzsaw tool thing this week because I’ve ground my teeth down to a level of agonizing discomfort through about 8 years of jaw-clenching at work.  But it’s a good job, right?  Why should I enjoy the workplace when I get decent insurance?  I shouldn’t be happy at my job, should I?

The obvious answers are hard to face up to, but for myself, for my friends, we should all start living, even in just baby steps. 

I’m mad right now, so now is not a good time for decision making…but I’m wondering what I do with my engagement ring?  Going back in time to my first marriage to Minime’s dad, we had very little money, so my engagement ring and wedding band had only sentimental value, no dollar value.  I saved those rings for Minime to have when she’s older if she wants them.

Fast forward a decade to now, and Mr. Kat 2.0 gave me a lovely diamond ring for our engagement (not the ring I wanted, mind you, but that’s another blog), one that was not cheap.  According to the law, it’s my ring to keep…but what the hell do I do with it? 

Every time I see the ring in my jewelry box, it reminds me both of wonderful times when I believed that Mr. Kat 2.0 and I were a perfect match and it reminds me of lies, disappointments and dreams crushed to dust.  After a day like today, I wish I could do something dramatic and spirit-smashing to Mr. Kat 2.0 with it, but I know that’s not right.  I will wish him well even if he doesn’t wish the same for me.

Do I sell it for some microscopic fraction of what it’s worth?  Do I throw it in the ocean?  Do I offer it back to Mr. Kat 2.0 to give to his next woman because what woman wouldn’t love a pre-enjoyed ring full of bad vibes?   I don’t know, I just don’t know.  To put it away for Minime seems weird because at this pace, she’ll inherit more rings than she has fingers.  Any ideas?  Let me know.

For those of you not paying attention, Mr. Kat 2.0 and I have been separated for about 8 months, on our way to what was to be a fairly amicable divorce, as amicable as these things can be.  I will still stand by my original plan of not trash talking him as best I can, but I’m pretty dismayed this evening.

Minime and I were out of town for the week of Christmas.  Mr. Kat 2.0 called several million times that week, quite upset, all “I miss you” blah blah blah, “let’s talk” yadda yadda yadda.  And I was all like “we can talk when I get back in town.”  But when I was getting back to town was the day he was to be leaving town on his own little vacation, so a few weeks pass.

And in this few weeks time, I’m thinking thinking thinking, losing sleep.  I’m trying to put myself in his shoes, understand where his sadness is coming from, trying to get a grip on what it would take for us to potentially reconcile.  Hard things to think about, really tough matters of the heart.  I considered what I would expect from him and wondered what he would expect from me in return.

When I finally do get to speak to him in private, no Minime ears listening, all he wants to know is how soon he can divorce me.  He’s apparently zipped right past all that missing me he was doing, do not pass go, do not collect $200, when can he divorce me.  I was FURIOUS! I’m still pretty pissed, just thinking about it.  Jerk me around with a sad story, have me pondering getting back together, only to turn around and want to get in the express line for divorce.

I told him he had to wait out the full year to be divorced and he was not pleased.  He actually asked me to fake the date of our separation so he could just “get this over with.”  Needless to say, that conversation didn’t go well.

In Mr. Kat 2.0’s favor, I will say he and Minime get along very well as long as they aren’t living in the same house.  They usually do something a couple Saturdays a month, and that’s great.  I’m pleased they get along so well now that they have some space between them, and I won’t stand in the way of their fun.

Today was one of their days for fun, and when Mr. Kat 2.0 brought Minime home at the end of their outing, he of course has to blurt out something rude and snarky to me.  And I fell for it, hook, line and sinker and rattled off a string of nasty remarks like machine gun fire.  And he left.

I felt bad immediately.  No matter what he said to me, there was no need for me to stoop to that level, no need for me to let loose with all that negativity, very uncool of me.  So after a bit, I called him up to apologize for being so nasty and to let him know that I was still pretty peeved about the Christmas-boohoo-I-miss-you-so-much to the complete opposite Happy-New-Year-divorce-me-now emotional roller coaster he had me on.  Told him I was mad and hurt and my defenses were up and all that.

And because he apparently likes nothing better than hurting my feelings, he said he didn’t really mean all that he said at Christmas.  He really meant that he missed my house since it was bigger and roomier than where he’s living now and he missed the big television and things like that, that he never meant that he actually missed me or being a family.  Now, at this point, my stomach is absolutely sour, I think I’m going to throw up because this was not the conversation I’d called to have, but Mr. Kat 2.0 isn’t done yet!  Oh no, he has more!  In fact, he wants me to know that he wishes we’d separated sooner because our marriage was really just a waste of his time–more specifically, I, Kat, was a waste of his time and that he can’t believe he’s wasted this much of his life on me.  I thanked him for clearing everything up, and hung up on him.

And so here I am, blogging right along because I can’t think of anything else to do with my restless hurt heart.  Our separation hasn’t been all unicorns and rainbows and fuzziness, but it really has not been ugly.  It has been full of wishing each other the best as we go in different directions, up until now.  Telling me that our relationship, our dreams and plans, were all just a waste of time is very possibly the meanest thing anyone has said to me in recent years, because it cut so very close to the soul.  He essentially said he’d have been better off without knowing me, and I don’t believe that to be true.

My perspective is that it is hard and sad to end this marriage, and that I was willing to go through counseling to see if we could pull it together.  Mr. Kat 2.0 disappointed me in some tremendous ways that I don’t care to go into, but I never saw our marriage as a waste of my time, even at this moment.  I learned many things from him and we shared some really neat times, and even as the whole thing imploded, I never thought of it as a waste.  Every experience is a gift if we look at what we’ve learned, what we’ve gained from it.

But according to Mr. Kat 2.0, I am a waste of his time.  And that stings.

They were outside the local grocery store, sitting on the ground beside the soda machines.  She looked young, but her face was hard around the eyes.  He was probably just as young as she, but had grown facial hair to try to look older.  Their dog kept a watchful eye over their backpacks full of worldly possessions.  They watched the shoppers go in and out of the grocery store, but looked away when someone returned their gaze.

I walked past them as I went into the store, my head full of my own worries.  I registered that they were probably homeless or at least traveling to their next home on foot, but I went on in to do my shopping.  I was thinking about the heat pump I had to buy just days before Christmas, days before my vacation.  I was wondering where the money would come from, how I was going to make it all happen.

I did my grocery shopping in a rush and loaded everything into the car.  When I turned the key in the ignition, I was grateful that the vents were still blowing warm air onto my cold face.  I was happy that even if there wasn’t heat at home, there was heat in the car.  And that’s when it clicked in my head.  It was cold outside and those two kids (I’m someone’s mom, I’m past 30, I can call them kids) were sitting on the frigid ground.

The couple wasn’t asking anyone for money, but you could feel the yearning coming off of them in waves…the yearning for somewhere warm to sit, something hot to eat.  I have been without a home in my adult life, and I have been without a dollar in my pocket…and I would never have begged or asked for anyone’s help.  I would’ve sat silently in the cold, just like the two kids and their dog on this day.

So I went for my wallet and got out all the cash I had, just two five dollar bills.  I thought about putting one bill back so I’d have something for later, but I had a car and I had a home–even though my house was as cold as the outdoors, I had a house to call my own.  I turned off the car, took both five dollar bills and approached the couple.

“Hey, I know you’re not asking for anything, and I don’t want to assume, but I’d like to give you money for lunch.  And if you don’t need the money for lunch, please buy a special treat for your dog,” I said, and I held out the money.

The young man took the bills, nodded and said, “It helps, every bit helps on the road.”

The woman whispered something that sounded like “oh thank God for you.” 

I patted their dog on the head and went back to my car, drove away and went back to my life.

In looking back, I think the whole scene is something I wanted to share because as we move toward a new year, I’d like to ask you all to give without being asked.  That couple didn’t ask me for anything, but I knew in my gut that I should offer.  They shouldn’t have to ask–I can look upon them, or anyone in that situation, and know with simple human compassion that I should give.  Pay it forward, and do something kind and good just because you can.  It doesn’t have to involve giving money; hold the door open for someone else, listen to someone who needs to talk, tell the cashier at Home Depot that her smile made your day.

We all have something, even on our darkest, brokest day, to offer to someone else.  Share what you have.  May your new year be full of blessings.

I got an email this week from a friend, and he shall remain nameless.  He told me that in January, he is going for a consulation for rhinoplasty.  A nose job.  WTF?

Before I could even reply, I had to go find some photos of him and ponder on his nose, because my immediate reaction was that his nose was just fine.  So I looked at photos and decided, yep, his nose is good.  He is a handsome man, teetering right on the edge of being ridiculously sexy until, of course, he opens his mouth and says something stupid.  He’s not a person you would look at and say “oh, he’d be handsome if only he had a better nose.”  It’s just a regular nose.  A good nose on a good-looking guy.

My own nose used to be different.  John loved me with such fervor that he thought it was important to hammer his fist down onto my sleeping face to show his passion.  Once the swelling had subsided and the restraining order was in place, my nose was really really really really straight.  The natural curve was gone.  But I’ve never thought about plastic surgery for my nose or any other body part.

I’m not sure I like the idea of plastic surgery for anything other than reconstruction or medical issues.  A friend’s sister was in a devastating car crash that essentially crushed half her face; I can completely understand her wanting to have reconstructive surgery.  Or if something going on causes breathing problems, the medical issue there is a valid reason to have surgery.

It would seem to me that if my friend “fixes” his nose that suddenly the rest of his face won’t match the new nose.  He’ll look in the mirror all pleased with the new nose, only to find what else is “wrong.” He’ll need an eye lift, some Botox.  Dermabrasion.  Maybe a chin implant.

To order body parts off a menu at the plastic surgeon’s office seems wrong.  “I’d like the J Lo booty, Angelina Jolie’s upper arms, but hold the Lisa Rinna lips.”  I like people to look natural, with their scars and body shapes that reflect lives well-lived and their heritage.

To my faraway friend, I really wish you wouldn’t do this.  If you must, please go see a therapist first and make sure that your nose really is what needs to be fixed, and not something else.  I think you’re a gorgeous creature.  In the words of INXS, “don’t change for you; don’t change a thing for me.”

And to everyone else, yes, the wisdom is the same…”don’t change for you; don’t change a thing for me.”