This Is The Type Of Girl That You Should Stop Taking For Granted

One of my dear friends sent this to me right after I got walloped with a recent and painful breakup. Without going into details, I was raked over the coals for YEARS, dumped repeatedly for no good reason, and was constantly belittled and disrespected. Yet I kept loving, kept giving, like a fool.

I am copying and pasting the body of the article here so that you can read it more clearly. The original source is filled with annoying pop-ups. I don’t know who the author is, but he or she nailed it with the giving, caring woman who gives herself to undeserving men.

The original link to this article can be found here:

This Is The Type Of Girl That You Should Stop Taking For Granted

She’s the girl that does everything for you and never asks for anything in return.

She texts first. She asks how your family is doing, how your job is going, how your friends are. She takes a genuine interest in your life. When you call, she answers. When you whine, she listens. Whenever you need her, she’s there. No exceptions.

She doesn’t hold any grudges against you. She’s such a forgiving soul. Whenever you screw up, she doesn’t stay angry. She deals with the hurt and moves past it, because she believes that you’re worth it.

She’s the type of girl that wants to know you, all of you. She asks about your childhood. About your exes. About your parents. She wishes you would be as open with her as she is with you. She wishes you would trust her with your deepest secrets.

Even though you haven’t done much to prove that you care, she’s always making you feel special. She does little things, things you barely even notice, that add up to a lot. She tags you on cute photos. She shares her funny stories. She compliments your looks and your laugh. She makes you feel like you matter.

She keeps trying to break down your walls and push her way inside — even though she secretly knows you’re nothing but trouble.

After all, you’ve hurt her before. You’ve gone days without responding to her, and still, whenever you text her, she answers within minutes.

You’ve canceled plans with her, but whenever you ask her to come over, she still says yes.

You’ve made her cry (you know you have), but she still does everything within her power to make you smile.

You’ve done so many things to chase her away, but she’s still there.

She has given you a million chances and you’re still expecting more. You assume that she’s always going to be there, that she’s always going to want you, no matter how poorly you treat her.

But she’s not going to stick around forever. One day, she’ll get sick of this one-sided love. One day, she’ll realize that she deserves to receive all of the things that she’s been giving. One day, she won’t care about you anymore.

If you’re smart, you’ll stop taking her for granted before that day comes — because she’s the type of girl that will make your life worth living. She’ll take you on romantic rooftop dates. She’ll create scrapbooks to showcase her love. She’ll never let you forget how much she cares.

You both know that she should be long gone by now. She shouldn’t still be pining over you. She shouldn’t still be trying to turn your sadness into happiness — but she is. So stop taking her love for granted.

Stop stringing such a beautiful girl along.

via Thought Catalog

How Shima Stole My Heart

I came across this piece when I was looking for something else in my files. It was written to honor my sweet cat Shima who is now 6 years old:
Back in early 2009, I was nursing a broken heart after my first American Burmese boy went missing. I had contacted a breeder and made arrangements the last week of April to drive to Northern California to pick up an Am Burm male kitten.

The Wednesday prior to my trip, I had to pick up kitten food for the new boy. It had been 7 years since I had lived with a kitten, so I needed to purchase kitten food. It would have been MUCH more convenient to go to a pet store closer to work, but for whatever reason, I decided to go to another store near my house. And I felt a compulsion to do this. I should have known something special would occur there.

I was in the store no more than 5 minutes when I heard mewing. Not meowing. Mewing, from a kitten who was clearly very young. Then a woman came down the aisle I was in, holding a pet carrier. From this carrier I heard the mewing again. I chatted briefly with the woman, who stated that she had heard mewing in her backyard, and found this abandoned kitten. She had come to the store hoping to get some advice on how to feed the kitten since she had never done such a thing.

I peeked inside the carrier and saw a 3-1/2 week old silver spotted tabby female whose ears had come up only a couple of days prior. I reached into the carrier and scooped her into my arms, whereupon she immediately stopped mewing and snuggled into my neck.

The woman was delighted and stated that it was the first time the kitten had stopped mewing. In the meantime, the store manager brought over some kitten formula and I proceeded to feed her. I promised the woman that I would care for the kitten and find a good home for her. Little did I know she would steal my heart and that the “good home” would be mine!

Suddenly my life was defined by feedings every two hours, little to no sleep, de-worming, weaning, and lots of attention to this little creature. Shima is now six years old, slightly shy, very affectionate, and a complete marvel to me. She still likes to sleep on my chest despite the fact that she is almost too big to do that easily! When she was very little I would wrap her against my chest like a little papoose. She’d nod off to sleep in that position.

Shima was probably born around March 25th, but I have set her birthday at March 18th, the same day that my first burmese boy had gone missing.

It was meant to be for us to meet that day…

Eulogy For Rob Willhite

– Buddha

One day eight years ago I met Rob and was immediately struck by his elegant stature and his calm and kind demeanor. What was most striking, though, was a spirit presence, something ethereal that I couldn’t define, and it was that presence that put me in awe of him. He kindly invited me to join his meditation group, and I gladly obliged. And so began my journey into more structured meditation, a connection to the cosmos, and a deep friendship.

I remember being somewhat intimidated by Rob, and I realize that this was my own little grasshopper mind coupled with egoic limitations that were causing me to experience that feeling of intimidation. Rob’s “Robisms” reminded me to ponder in more enlightened ways, and I took great comfort in hearing him utter one of his typical sage sayings and following it with either a grin or a chuckle, and a twinkle in the eye that revealed the little boy that still wanted to laugh and play.

Then when Rob was diagnosed last Fall and I heard of all the trials and tribulations he was enduring, I realized that everything this remarkable man had experienced in his life was coming to a head and that the ultimate test was yet to come. I drove to Rancho Los Amigos a couple of days after his surgery to see him, not sure what I would encounter. Yet as I laid my eyes upon Rob, a great surge of joy washed through me, and this joy continued as we talked and joked around, laughed and smiled. He was in such great spirits that even though I was devastated to hear of his diagnosis, it didn’t seem to matter, because we were truly in the moment, friends enjoying each other’s company. Rob’s wonderful dry wit was still very much intact and he used it to say things that had me chuckling at his bedside.

1016444_696074497089656_1678297_nShortly after Rob was discharged to Bess’s home this past December, I made regular scheduled visits to help out, and continued to do so through most of March. Every single one of those days I spent with Rob was an absolute treasure. Our conversations ran the gamut of profound, funny, tragic, and philosophical. Most days we would go for a walk or visit the neighbor dogs for a bit, and on some days he and I would meditate. Our jaunts to the L.A. Zoo were also very special and I feel so fortunate to have gone with Rob there. He missed his animal friends so very much and was able to have two wonderful reunions with them. The first time we visited, Leadbottom, the Andean Condor, was being a butthead and refused to come to the fence to greet Rob, but during our second visit, Leadbottom finally relented, and I witnessed the friendship and bond which they shared. It was truly a magical moment.

Though I had known Rob for several years, it was only this year that I learned that Rob was a man who had never felt, as he stated, like he belonged on this earth. I knew what he meant. He was so evolved spiritually that being locked in the physical realm was challenging at best with him. We spoke at length about countless other subjects during my regular visits, and he revealed more of his life experiences and upbringing to me, making him more endearing and real, and dissolving the silly intimidation I had once felt so long ago. He expressed gratitude towards me many times for helping out during the course of his illness, but the countless spiritual gifts he had bestowed upon me during that time were staggering in comparison.

There was one thing Rob said to me when he was still at Rancho which struck me. He had said, “I’ll meet you on the other side for sake.” To which I replied, “Not just yet, Rob, not for either of us. But I absolutely will meet you for that sake at some point.” Eventually, we will share that bottle of sake on the other side. I look forward to it.

Being a Parent To a Parent

In yesterday’s post I talked about my mother’s aneurysm rupture and eventual placement in a skilled nursing facility.  Before I delve into today’s topic I want to mention that my mother has progressed so well during her time at the skilled nursing facility that she is one of the highest functioning residents there. At this point in time she would be more well suited for an assisted living environment which would encourage her to develop some level of independence.  We are currently in the process of applying for placement in assisted living and hope that she qualifies very soon.

It has been exceedingly difficult being the only child to an elderly parent who is unable to care for herself.  Granted, my mother is in a facility which provides 24-hour care.  However, before she was placed in skilled nursing, I took on the role of caregiver and did my best to help her hold onto the independent lifestyle to which she had become so accustomed.  I purchased her groceries, cleaned her apartment, did her laundry, cleaned out the cat box, set her hair and nail appointments, and spoke with her employer when her behavior became erratic.

One day, several months before her fall, she got into a car accident and totaled her car.  Her report was that she hit a car, but I discovered that she had hit FOUR cars.  Despite my queries, my mother insisted that she had only hit one car.  She was taken by police escort home and neglected to call her employer, so I had to deal with her boss when she called asking where the hell my mom was.  My mom also stated that she did not know where the car was, so I had to track it down, pay the impound fees, contact the insurance company and file a report.  I also had to tell her employer that I saw no way that my mother could continue to work.

My mother fell into such a depression that when her friends would call her to ask how she was doing, she would ask them to bring her a gun so she could kill herself.  Naturally this prompted a call from Adult Protective Services which I had to deal with as well.  In some sense my mother’s eventual fall was a blessing because it prompted her placement into an environment which would be able to assist her with everything from meals to bathing, dressing, toileting, medication management and physical therapy.    With this placement, however, came the responsibility of taking over her financial affairs, closing accounts, making pre-need burial arrangements, applying for Medicaid assistance, and coordinating her care with the physician on staff at the skilled nursing facility.

The task of emptying out my mother’s apartment also fell upon me.  I cannot tell you how wracked with guilt I was while going through all of my mother’s belongings and determining what could be kept, as I knew full well that whatever was kept would be stored at my place.  It was such an overwhelming task that if I did not have my dear friend Dana and a professional estate liquidating team assisting me, I would have lost my mind during the process.  It was also an extremely emotional experience sorting through items that chronicled my mother’s entire existence and one which I would never want to repeat.

For the past six years my mother has been very stable and I am very thankful for this.  However, I write the checks for all the bills she receives, and I submit all applications on her behalf for aid.  I visit her weekly, bringing prunes for her constipation, fresh fruit if I get a chance to pick some  up, snacks and treats, magazines, and our trusty chinese checkers set which we use every week.  Lest you think I beat her at chinese checkers, she actually beats me more than half the time, which is something I find amusing and encouraging.  I listen to my mother’s complaints about the other residents and the staff, and do my best to keep her updated on my life with pictures and stories.  Honestly, though, I never feel like I do enough, and I think this has everything to do with my desire to always be a good daughter in my mother’s eyes.  I can never be entirely sure.

There are moments when I look into my mom’s eyes  and can detect the feisty spirit that she used to exude on a consistent and daily basis.  For a moment I forget that my now eighty-year old mom spends most of her days in a wheelchair, her body run down by arthritis and failing eyesight, a mere shadow of the beautiful, willful, strong woman who raised me.  And in that moment I am truly happy.

My Mother’s Aneurysm

I love my mom dearly and never believed that the determined, independent, fashionable lady who raised me would at some point become so ill that she would become unable to care for herself.  As her only child I wish I had the foresight to anticipate such a thing, but it is very true that you can never be fully prepared for the time that your parent becomes sick.

In August of 2004 my mother had a brain aneurysm rupture from which she almost died.  It was a terrifying experience which forced me to see my mother completely incapacitated, head partially shaven, tubes and wires from the ventriculostomy tube and EEG surrounding her head, and her awareness of what was occurring wavering between minimal recognition to absolutely no clue as to what had occurred.  I spent three weeks in the Neurosurgical ICU at UCLA Medical Center essentially living there, wondering if my mom would pull through this monstrous event.  It was almost worse processing this as a physician, because I was well aware of the severity of the incident and how it would impact her if she were to survive.

My mother had two coil embolization procedures which stabilized the weak blood vessel in her brain and she was discharged to my home, where I spent the next month providing 24 hour care for her.  It was exhausting and I was overwhelmed with emotion.  After a month with me, my mother stubbornly insisted on going back to her apartment and returning to work.  At work, she was no longer the detail-oriented fact checker she used to be.  She forgot phone numbers that she used to take pride in rattling off with no hesitation.  Her behavior became extremely erratic and unpredictable, and she would fly into rages which were in complete opposition to the calm, reserved woman I knew as my mother.  I began to lose my cool as my anger over what had occurred and the realization that my mother would never, ever be the same fully set in.

My mother’s behavior continued to meander all over the place and she began to neglect the cat that she loved so much and was unable to clean up after herself.  I would purchase groceries which she would binge on, then call me in a rage later that day insisting that I buy more immediately.  She hoarded toilet paper and boxes of tissue.  One time I discovered pants in the garbage and when I asked her why on earth she would throw away a pair of pants, she admitted ashamedly that she had soiled them.

Finally, one day in January of 2006 I had gone to pick my mother up for her hair appointment.  She was not in the living room, but the bathroom light was on and the door was open a crack.  I called out to her to let her know I was there, but heard nothing.  I waited for a few minutes, then opened the door.  She was not in the bathroom.  Puzzled, I walked into her bedroom, looked to the floor, and saw her crumpled on the floor.  When I rushed over to pick her up, she cried out in pain.  I immediately called 911 and waited for the paramedics to arrive.

Once my mother was in the hospital, we determined from the BUN and creatinine levels that she had been lying there for two days.  She told me she was getting out of bed and simply did not have the strength to stand and slumped to the floor, where she remained until I had found her.  She had soiled herself and because she had been lying on her shoulder the entire time, she sustained a rotator cuff tear that had caused the pain which made her cry out.

By February of 2006 my mother was placed in the skilled nursing facility where she now resides.  I am so thankful that the majority of her memory and personality have been restored over the years, but she has absolutely no concern over her physical appearance which is such a bizarre thing for me to grasp.  This woman used to insist on putting on earrings and heels when she visited the grocery store, so to see her in sweatpants, a zipped up hooded sweatshirt and no makeup still breaks my heart.

All in all, though, I still have my mother and I hope that the experience which changed her life is one she doesn’t remember.