Warm Blessings

A few weeks ago I was having a major pity party like no other.  Probably the biggest pity party I’ve had for myself in a long long time.  I was down on myself because I’m living hand-to-mouth, I’m lonely, and it just felt like there were a million other things dragging me down.  I was desperate for someone to give me the answer to get out of the abyss that it seemed like I was in.  So I texted several friends and they all had uplifting words of support and strength, however, I still had that empty tug of loneliness. 

Then I got a response from Kimberly Morgan (I worked with her at the News-Enterprise). She told me that I needed to quit feeling sorry for myself and get out and do something for somebody else.  I was surprised at her words, and also surprised that she hit the nail on the head.  I really was feeling sorry for myself.  I had no idea that’s what I was doing, but she was right!

A couple of nights later I went to Warm Blessings, the soup kitchen here in E-town, to serve dinner and I’ll tell you what; not only did I stop feeling sorry for myself, but I also realized that I have been incredibly blessed.  The first night I went, I was amazed at how moved I was by all of the people that I was serving.  Many of them are physically disabled, which I found sad because not only are they hungry but they also have a physical disadvantage that they have to deal with every single day. I left there and thanked God for blessing me so much.  Those people were born into a family that they had no control over, just like I was.

The second night I went, I was even more moved after a woman came up to me and asked if I knew of any homeless shelters nearby because she & her husband had just become homeless that morning.  I felt my stomach leap to my throat and sent her to one of the women in charge of the establishment because I didn’t have any idea if there was one or not. It ended up that all they could do was give her a note that said that she & her husband had been okayed to stay the night in the parking lot of Warm Blessings and sleep in their van so that the police wouldn’t run them off.  That night when I left there, once again I thanked God for everything I could think of, but this time I thanked him all the way down to the gas in my car.  It really is amazing what we take for granted.

I have been raised and lived in the lap of luxury my entire life. Not just monetarily, but also in my family & friends. I’m not gonna lie; right now I’m living hand-to-mouth & it sucks. That was one of the reasons for the pity party I was having that started this entire experience. After serving at Warm Blessings, it opened my eyes to several things:

1. I was born into a family in which I could call on ANY of my family members if I was really to the point of being destitute, and they would be there to support me within seconds without a second thought. The people at Warm Blessings don’t have that. More than likely their family either is nowhere to be found (possibly because they’re not alive anymore) or they’re in just as bad of a situation, if not worse, as the people there.
2. I have lived in the lap of luxury my entire life.  I have never wanted for anything and had NO idea that everybody didn’t live that way until I graduated high school and started working at the Swope Freedom Plan.
3. I grew up in a family where there wasn't a second thought as to whether or not you went to college; it was assumed that you would. I went to college on two academic scholarships, and what those didn't cover, my parents paid for. I pissed those scholarships away after a year and a half of partying & skipping class at WKU and had to come home. I had no idea that that was a luxury that I was blessed with; to not only be smart enough to get academic scholarships, but also to have parents who footed the bill for what wasn’t covered by those scholarships!

I have always admired and had the utmost respect for those people who give their money to charities.  But what I admire & respect even more than that are the people who give their time. Time is a priceless thing but yet it is so often wasted on frivolous things. I am saying this as someone who is the guiltiest of it. One person in particular that I’ve always been in awe of is Dana Taylor. She is one of the biggest and best (not to mention most humble) philanthropists I know. I’ve always wondered where she gets the time and energy for all the volunteerism she does, especially as a single mom working full time in Louisville nonetheless. I respected that drive in her, but assumed that it wasn’t in me and I was “too tired” or “didn’t have enough time” to do the things that she does. But yet I did have time to sit on my ass at my apartment and watch hours of TV or walk around Target for an hour spending money on crap that I didn’t need and in all reality couldn’t afford.

In closing, I want to clarify that I am in no way bragging about anything that I’ve discussed.  I’m not looking for a pat on the back for volunteering at the soup kitchen. I’m not bragging that I’m smart or that I have a successful family. I just wanted to share this experience because I had absolutely no idea that I was such a blessed person until the experience that I’ve had at Warm Blessings. I have taken the things that I’ve learned and realized that I should be ashamed of the way I have treated those blessings as though they’re something I deserve rather than as tools to move mountains.

One thing I can’t stand is someone who is constantly looking for a handout.  Who would’ve ever though that I was one of those people?

“What you give ought to be in direct relationship to what you’ve received.  If you have been blessed with a great deal, then you have a lot of giving to do.”
-Johnetta B Cole

“The best response to the long list of social ills is to put into effect the Noah principle.  That is, stop looking for credit for predicting the rain, it’s time to start building an ark.”
Johnnetta B. Cole

Poopy Pants

Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open.
John Barrymore

When I read this quote, the first thing that popped into my mind was the twinkies.  If you don’t already know, I have 3 sisters.  My full sister is Erica, who is 25.  The other two are my sisters from another mister and they’re identical twins … Abby & Adrienne.  Age: 8. Yes 8.  Almost exactly 20 years younger than me.

I remember the day that Mom told me she was pregnant. She said, “I have something to tell you; I’m getting married.”  I was like whoopty doo.  I honestly didn’t care because I didn’t like her fiancé.  THEN she said, “And I have something else to tell you.”  Thinking this news would be as exciting as her first bit, I looked at her with the sluggish I’m-so-bored look that only a 19 year-old can give their mom.  “I’m also pregnant.”  Do…do…do…do WHAT?!?!  I’M 19!!!  My mom was 40!!!  What was my verbal reaction once my mouth stopped making an O?  I jumped up and said “HOLY S*^%!!!”  Mom wasn’t thrilled with that reaction because “she can’t even put it in their baby books” LOL.  Would I really be JPZ if I DIDN’T have a reaction that can’t be forever printed in a baby book?

That was the day that changed my life forever.  Who in the world would’ve thought that:

a) My mom would get pregnant at 40

b) She would not only get pregnant, but have TWINS  (When Mom does something, she does it BIG!  No half assing here!)

c) That I could possibly love two people so much

Their first year was boring.  I’m not into newborns.  I know that sounds terrible, but quite frankly all they do is sleep and poop and cry and eat and that’s boring to me.  I want to be entertained.  I hope to God that I feel differently if I ever have kids because otherwise I’m going to be a terrible mom up until they’re about 1.

The twins turn 1.  I still have a picture of Abby at their first birthday party and I think it is the most precious photograph of all time.  (Abby is the top pic; Adrienne is the bottom)

 

I know I know…you’re waiting on a story because all the twins’ stories are funny.  Well I have a good one:

Abby went through a phase where she decided to dig her hand into her poopy diaper and pull poop out.  Funny? Yes! (especially if you DON’T have to clean it up). Disgusting? Very!  Well the most memorable account of this was one night when I came over to watch the twins while Mom went to open house for the beginning of school to meet her new students and their parents.  As soon as I get there, Mom meets me outside with her hair in rollers and says “I’m going to pay you for watching the twins.” I said, “No you’re not! I love watching them so quit.” “Wait til you come inside” she said, laughing. When I get inside, I go into the twins room and Abby is in her crib and gives me the biggest smile through the bars when I walk in.  I smile back at her.  Then the stench invades my nose like a Trojan horse and my gag reflex goes into overdrive. During her nap, Abby has not only reached into her diaper to get the poop, but she has it ALL OVER.  All over HER, her hair, her clothes, her sheets, and the best part…slid up and down every. single. bar of the crib.  It was DISGUSTING.  Abby stands up in her crib and starts jumping on the bed.  Really?!?!  She’s so happy that I’m there and she doesn’t give an F that she just turned her crib into a fecal hell.  I turn around and look at Mom in horror and said “You’re right; I’ll take money this time” to which she starts laughing maniacally (how can you not laugh any way but maniacally in a situation such as this one?)  Mom was already running late for the open house, so we divvied up the jobs; Mom took Abby to clean her up and I took the crib.  To this day I have no idea how I didn’t projectile vomit EVERYWHERE.  Such a precious baby but I truly wanted to kill her as I’m SCRUBBING the rungs of the crib because the poop had dried on them.  I could gag just thinking about it right now.

So that’s the only twin story you’ll get for this blog, but I figured it’s a pretty good one.

Moral of this blog: the quote above is so very true.  I never knew that the door was open for me to have another sibling (or two…or 4 counting my stepbrothers on Dad’s side) but they have brought more happiness into my life than I ever thought there could be.  Even when they would throw fits at the age of 3 and I could SWEAR that I saw Satan when I looked in their eyes, I still loved them and wouldn’t trade one second with them for anything in this world.

Final thought: All I can think of is a room full of middle-aged women and one of them yells “Who is never going to experience empty nest?” and my mom is the only one who can raise her hand.  LOL!!!

Peezy Out

Loneliness is a bear that should be drug into the street and shot

Since I started this blog I’ve been battling whether or not to write on this subject, but I’m just going to throw caution to the wind, tell my pride to STFU, and do it.

Loneliness ---

“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” – Jodi Picoult My Sister’s Keeper

What a bitch.  I hate it.  I have never ever wanted to admit that I am a codependent person, but living alone has shown me that I have relied far too much on others for my fulfillment and happiness.  I’ve done several things to try to battle the loneliness…I occasionally volunteer at an animal shelter, I coach the twins’ softball team, I participate in a weekly Bible study with a close friend, etc.  But still…at the end of the day when I go home, my apartment is empty (and habitually messy; who keeps making these messes and leaving them for me to clean up? And where’s Helga the Housekeeper I hired 4 months ago to work for free?).  At the risk of sounding like a country song, at times my heart feels as empty as my apartment when I come home.

The advice always given when you ask anyone about how to battle/conquer loneliness is “find activities or hobbies that you enjoy”.  Well CRAP.  I don’t like to do anything.  So I started stealing other people’s hobbies to see if I liked them.  One was I started a smashbook.  A smashbook is like a scrapbook that you put whatever you want to in (that sentence sounded really illiterate, but I can’t think of a different way to word it. Sorry Mom).  It doesn’t have to be photos; it can literally be anything from articles in a magazine to a freakin jump rope (if you can somehow get it in there…and if you do, be sure to post that on Facebook).  I didn’t start one for a long time because I was so depressed from my breakup that I didn’t want to remember that point in my life.  I have never been in such a dark, hopeless place in my life, so why would I want to remember it?  I finally started to snap out of the abyss of depression about 2 months ago and started “smashing” in my smashbook.  That’s been pretty fun and I do enjoy it, but I need more.

One thing that I’ve learned from this breakup is just how amazing God is.  No, I don’t necessarily lead the best Christian life there ever was…and if you snarled your lip when you read the first sentence of this paragraph because you were judging me, please promptly stop reading this blog and delete yourself from my friend list *:)

Not only has He been the only One who can help me (because He knows I can’t help myself) but He has spoken to me more in these past 4 months than He ever has.  Or rather…I’ve listened more than I ever have since I envision Him banging his head against the wall when it comes to me, LOL. 

As I was writing this blog I started to cry…pretty much a pity party because of the loneliness and the residue left behind by this heartannihilation (I made that word up because “heartbreak” seems too weak a word to encompass just what this has felt like).  So I got my Bible, prayed for God to help me, opened it to a random page, closed my eyes and put my finger on a spot on the page.  Here is the verse it landed on:

Joel 2:12-14

“But even now,” declares the Lord, “return to me with all your heart – with fasting, crying, and mourning.” Tear your hearts, not your clothes. Return to the Lord your God. He is merciful and compassionate, patient, and always ready to forgive and to change his plans about disaster. Who knows? He may reconsider and change his plan and leave a blessing for you. Then you could give grain offerings and wine offerings to the Lord your God.

This spoke to me in several ways; I am not relying on Him enough with this loneliness and heartannihilation since I am still battling it.  If I were relying on Him like I should be, then I wouldn’t still be hurting like I do.  So basically, I feel like I should fast something in His name to repent for my lack of faith and to sacrifice something for him like he sacrifices for me.

“Remember: the time you feel lonely is the time you most need to be by yourself. Life's cruelest irony.” 
― Douglas Coupland, Shampoo Planet

“When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” 
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

So I’m going to embrace these days of loneliness and learn something from them.  And possibly that lesson will be how much I appreciate the lack thereof once I meet someone.  But above that, I hope that I learn how to not be lonely by myself.  I see now why people settle when it comes to relationships.  When you're like "Why in the world are you still with him/her???"  Because loneliness is a bear that needs to be drug out into the street and shot.  I refuse to settle...I've lasted this long (only 4 1/2 months but that's a long time dammit!!!) and so in order to keep my self respect, I fully intend on waiting until I find someone worthy of my time.  Someone I would love to sit in a room and just watch TV together or have hours of conversation about anything/everything/nothing.

Please feel free to inbox me about your own loneliness or how you’ve learned to cope/conquer it.  Also any hobbies/activities you do to occupy your time!  I'm always open to suggestions!

I want to make sure and take this opportunity to say that I am not discounting my friends who have stuck by my side and hung out with me throughout this time in my life.  I love each and every one of you...for listening to me, providing a shoulder to lean/cry on, etc.  But I think you all know what I mean when I talk about the loneliness that still resonates even after all the love I feel from you all.

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.” 
― Marilyn Monroe

I had no idea what to write my next blog about, so I decided to type “good quotes” into Google, pick a link, and write it on the first quote that my eyes saw.  Lo and behold, it fell upon this one.  Oh how insanely true and pertinent this is to my life.

I have learned something since I moved into my own apartment and started living alone; I greatly enjoy being single.  For the most part.  It’s nights like last night when it’s storming outside that I do wish I had someone.  One of my favorite things in the world is to snuggle with someone and watch TV or a movie while it’s raining or storming outside.  It’s insanely hard to go to work on stormy days because of this.  But whenever you can’t have pets at your apartment and you’re single; the closest to cuddling you can get is your body pillow.

I’m semi looking for a man.  And by semi I mean not looking at all.  I’m so sick of the fair-weather BS, I could vomit.  You know what I get the most of?  “I love it because you tell it like it is” “You’re one of the coolest girls I’ve ever met” blah blah blah.  You’re probably thinking Oh what terrible compliments those must be to swallow.  They weren’t when I first started hearing them.  But then something happens and all of a sudden I’m “really cool” but they’re just “not into a relationship”.  Give me a BREAK.  I’m just looking for somebody to hang out & have fun with; I’m not asking for a one-carat-princess-cut-diamond-on-a-white-gold-band!!!  Jeez!  It’s almost like once they realize that they’re having a good time with me, they metaphorically (or possibly literally) poop in their pants and run screaming for the hills.  At least this is what I’d like to believe, as well as what I visualize.

Peezy isn’t “really cool” 24/7.  I’d say that I’m “really cool” 22/7 (I can hear my exes laughing right now).  Sometimes I get a little pissy.  Sometimes I cry (don’t tell anybody).  Sometimes I bitch because there’s piss on the rim of the toilet (for cryin out loud use ONE SQUARE of toilet paper and wipe it off).  Sometimes I have a day where nothing went right and the last thing I want to hear is you be the devil’s advocate for every. Thing. I. Say.  (I know “everything” is one word but I needed a more dramatic emphasis on it).  Sometimes when I’m pissed off I throw stuff (not as much anymore now that I’m the one paying to replace it) and I usually yell too…sometimes inaudibly and as loud as I can.

So there --- those are several of my “worst” qualities in a row.  Maybe I should make a little pamphlet for anybody who’s thinking about dating me and the title will be the Marilyn Monroe quote above.  Because let’s be honest here --- I’m pretty hard to handle if you can’t tell from just a few Facebook statuses.  It’s gonna take a real man to call me out on my crap and also be there to support me emotionally. 

I guess the last line on the pamphlet should be “Do you think you can handle Peezy, punk?  Well do ya?”  :::read in Clint Eastwood voice:::

The Song Remembers When

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.

-Aldous Huxley

In the song “Springsteen”, Eric Church croons “Funny how a melody sounds like a memory”.  These words are so very true.  It’s crazy how much a song can conjure up memories.  Memories that you thought you had long forgotten come to the forefront of your mind and it’s like you’re right there again.  It’s almost as though a song is as strong a reminder as a smell can be.  

A song can knock you on your ass or it can make your day.  It can make you laugh at the memory attached or cry with the pain that has suddenly shot through your heart.

I don’t know if anybody else does this, but sometimes when I really don’t know what to do in a situation, I’ll ask God to tell me in a song on the radio.  This doesn’t work every time, but a lot of times it does.  I recommend you try it sometime and just see what happens.  It’s crazy!

Earlier today I was listening to music on my iPhone, and the song “All I Have to Give” by the Backstreet Boys came on.  Suddenly I was 14 again, SCREAMING in the living room of our house on Quail Run Rd because AJ was dancing.  Erica (then 12) is dancing beside me and swooning over Brian.  Those are the things that I look back at and smile.  Those days of honestly believing we were in love with a Backstreet Boy (at least I did) and learning every single dance move to their songs and knowing every lyric down to the pauses they had for a breath.  The days of us going to every single BSB concert there was in Louisville & Lexington because our mom was a huge fan as well.  It’s unlikely that I would’ve just thought up these memories without hearing this song on my iPhone, and I’m so glad that I did.

Then there are the songs that bring back a tear jerking memory.  One for me has been “I Believe” by Brooks & Dunn because it came out shortly after Adrienne Rhudy died (the family friend we named my little sister Adrienne after).  One of the lyrics is “You can’t tell me that it all ends in a slow ride in a hearse.” Her funeral procession is one of the first ones I ever remember being in, so when that song comes on, I’m in the backseat of Mamaw’s car, and I can see Philip & Derrick in Adrienne’s Jaguar that she had requested Philip drive in her procession in the front of the line. 

I’ve been making it a point to make sure that I enjoy the “here & now” a lot more because my brain will be in fast forward thinking about what I’m doing next, and then I long for the days of the past that I was trying to speed through.  If only the twins were 2 again, if only Erica & I lived on the farm again, etc etc etc.  So sit back, relax, and let the songs remind you.  Or even better, stop and smell the roses because … here comes the bad pun … Eeeeeeeeeeeevery rose has its thorn…

(Bret Michaels back when he was hot)

Peezy Out

Well hello there!

What the heck is up with the title of your blog, Peezy?  As I hear that question, I can also hear my mom saying “Jessica” in that ‘Good Lord, are you my child’ tone and my dad shaking his head.  Hey…they’re used to my antics by now, I’m pretty sure.

Well here’s what it’s about.  Up until May 1, 2012 I had never ever lived alone.  Ever.  I’ve always lived with a boyfriend, husband, parent, roommate, etc.  Needless to say, you can’t pee with the door open very much when you’re living with someone else.  Hence the title --- Peeing With the Door Open.  Because now I have my own place and I’ll pee with the door open if I want to, dammit!

I’m not someone who likes to be alone.  Sometimes when I go to Amanda’s (Boone) house, we’ll just sit in the same room and play on our laptops.  Weird?  Yes.  Content?  Very. I hate to even admit to being codependent in that way, but evidently I am!  Another thing that’s kinda weird is that I’m okay with being alone IF I live with someone.  I figured out that the reason I was okay with that was because I knew eventually someone would be there.  I think it was a comfort thing.  Now I’m on my own and I can honestly say I love it.  Let’s go back to the beginning of living alone though…

First off, how did I get to this point?  Well, I was in a relationship of almost 3 years, we moved in together for a grand total of 2 ½ months, and then we broke up.  Why?  Nunya bidness.  BUT, I can sum that breakup in one word: SUCKED.  Real bad.  Like I-didn’t-know-if-I-could-breathe-without-him sucked.  There were times when I literally thought my heart was physically breaking because there was no way that I felt that much pain without something being broken.  Throw in living alone for the first time and talk about finding out how strong you are!!!

So I get my own place and night #1 of living alone begins.  I really didn’t have any idea how I was going to make it through.  I didn’t know what to do with myself.  All I know is that I did it.  I almost didn’t – I almost went running back to Mom’s for “one more night (or 20)” but I didn’t.  And it was one of the most liberating things I’ve ever done.  I woke up that next morning and smiled because I had survived.  Now that I’ve “survived” all this time, I’ve started to realize that I can do ANYTHING. 

I almost forgot the most important element of how I’ve survived all this time!  I really started turning to God.  I've always been a Christian but I basically hit rock bottom and I knew that the only thing to do was turn to God.  This may sound weird, but I was scared to.  I know God loves me and always will, but I hadn’t been the best daughter to Him and hadn’t been paying Him the respect that He deserves.  I found I hadn’t given Him enough credit because He took me into his arms and carried me throughout this entire experience.  There was a noticeable difference when I would spend alone time with Him reading/studying my Bible or just talking to Him.  If I missed a Sunday at church or skipped a day of reading my Bible, I could tell a difference.  Don’t get me wrong; he never left me … I just wasn’t doing what I was supposed to be doing.  One of the best ways I would spend time with Him was through Joyce Meyer.  If you’ve never read her books or listened to her speak; she’s wonderful.  She’s a no-nonsense woman who has seen the depths of the darkness and will honestly tell you that she’s not a perfect Christian either, but will help you to be one.  My favorite poem is entitled “Footprints” and I know that throughout this breakup and living alone, Jesus has carried me the entire time because I was too weak to walk.

One last thing that I feel like sharing is my connection to sparrows.  My favorite hymn is “His Eye Is On the Sparrow”.  The chorus says “His eye is on the sparrow so I know he watches me”.  One day about 10 years ago, I was walking to my car in the Kroger parking lot feeling down in the dumps and feeling alone and I saw a couple of little sparrows hopping around.  That moment my heart filled with love (so much that I swear it tingled) and tears sprang to my eyes.  Sparrows are so very plain and small, and in that moment I understood the meaning of the song.  God has his eye on those little bitty plain birds, so I know He’s watching me.  

Well, I finally did it.  I wrote a blog.  Til next time…Peezy out.