 Last night, my husband spoke the three most terrifying words in the English language.
"Take a break." I was horrified. My blood ran cold. "Let the dishes stack up. No laundry. And don't you dare touch that vacuum," he insisted. "But, but..." "No buts about it. Take the day off. Why don't you have some fun?" he suggested, smiling. Fun? Fun!? I drew a blank. And that's when I knew I had a problem. Did you do worksheets in elementary school? I must've done a thousand in first grade alone. Apparently, I did 'em well because they landed me on the A Honour Roll, or "A On-A-Roll" as I called it. Mom praised me and taped my papers to the 'fridge. Dad showed off his little Exhibit A (me) to the relatives. From that day on, I was an addict. A big, red A+ on my schoolwork became my crack. By third grade, my self-esteem and GPA were hopelessly enmeshed. I was my grades; my grades were me. Dad may have been chronically dissatisfied with who I was, but he heartily approved of my grades. I didn't give a rat's ass about knowledge. Grades. That's what mattered! And I wasn't the only one. When I met my Waterloo on fractions, Dad corrected my math worksheets before I turned them in for grading. When I refused to cheat on my eight grade science project, he punched me in the face. While I struggled with my tenth grade science project, he flew into a rage and threw a bar stool the length of the basement. There, but for the grace of God, flies me! Read the whole article on the HuffPost blog! Click here!
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 Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net I only have one New Year's Resolution. Just one. To Learn to Live...Really Live But it's not quite that simple. In fact, it took 929 words to explain it for the Huffington Post. Click on "Subscribe" in the column at right OR subscribe my RSS feed to be notified the moment the HuffPost publishes the blog! In the meantime, here's an excerpt to pique your curiosity. "Last night, my husband spoke the three most terrifying words in the English language.  FINALLY! Narcissism is being discussed on the radio. Click here to hear my interview about choosing to be alone at Christmas "LIVE"...because of my narcissistic family!
http://player.newstalk1010.com/  If you grew up in a family that was overtly or obliquely abusive, the decision to go "No Contact" can be extremely difficult...especially at Christmastime. Click here to read the article I wrote for the HuffPost for those of us who choose peace over Yuletide frivolity with our dysfunctional families.
 Do you remember your first home? Remember the golden glow that surrounded it, no matter how humble it was? Oh, I remember it well. For the first time, I was free to live the completely hedonistic life of a single woman living alone. And by hedonistic I mean leaving all the lights on all night. Cooking dinner at midnight and vacuuming at 5 a.m. Swagging every room with Christmas lights timed to come on just as I arrived home from work. Keeping the condo at a comfortable 72º year-round and draining the hot water heater to the last drop as often as I wanted. After my previous rigid, austere living arrangements, oh, it was bliss!
But after a month of solitary blessedness, a fly crept into my ointment. Could it be that I was...lonely!?! I adored living alone but the condo was too quiet. But when I mentioned my intentions to adopt a puppy to the family, you'd have thought I'd announced plans to build a submarine in my basement. The extended family erupted in the usual vacuous cries of “You're going to ruin your life!” Relatives came out of the woodwork. A dog-loving uncle I hadn't seen for over a decade relayed a message through two relatives, and I quote, “A dog will ruin your life and your condo. Don't do it.” Welcome to my world.  The older I get, the more I'm convinced that most of our problems in this cockeyed world result from one simple factor.
We can't leave each other alone. Simply can't do it! We're compelled to meddle. Wars. Riots. Murders. Assaults. Toxic relationships. All meddling. Boiled down to their lowest common denominator and they have one thing in common: someone is messing with somebody else. One nation invades another nation. Wars erupt. One ethnic group ticks off another ethnic group. Riots ensue. One human being attacks, even kills, another human being. Relatives can't keep their grubby mitts out of each other's lives. Drama, drama, drama. Click here to read whole article! Don't forget to Like, Share and Comment! Image courtesy of stockimages at FreeDigitalPhotos.net  Humanity is the only species that comes into the world with few instincts and no innate clue how to navigate the labyrinth we call life. Perhaps that's why we invented tradition. "We have traditions for everything," intoned Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. He was so right.
Nowhere does tradition triumph more than at Christmastime. And I'm not talking about Dickensian jollity here. Nope! I'm talkin' about the seamy underbelly of the holidays. The craziness that ensues as December 25th approaches. "Brawls broke out at Wal-Mart retail stores and other shopping centers across the country on Thursday evening, the official start of 'Black Friday'" reported the New York Daily News. Wait. Listen. Hear that sound from Westminster Abbey? It's Charles Dickens spinning in his grave. And it's that kind of lunacy that inspired me to turn to the wisdom of the ages, or perhaps I should say, the aged. Centenarians. If anyone knows how we should live, it's those who've done it successfully for one hundred years. If you're still around and sane after a century on this loony planet, you must be doing something right!  That's right. If you were born to narcissistic parents, especially engulfing narcs, they made a big boo-boo. They confused themselves with you. You heard me correctly. You are them, and they are you. There's no difference. No boundaries.
If I'd heard it once, I'd heard it a thousand times. “You said that!?!” This was my mother's typical response when telling her about my schoolyard conversations. Incredulity, laced with disapproval. Her tone indicating that she would never have said what I said. Yeah, it wreaked havoc with my self-esteem, not to mention destroying my personality.  Coming Soon to the Huffington Post...get your sneak peek here!
Nowhere does tradition triumph more than at Christmastime. And I'm not talking about Dickensian jollity here. Nope! I'm talkin' about the seamy underbelly of the holidays. The craziness that ensues as December 25th approaches. “Brawls broke out at WalMart retail stores and other shopping centers across the country on Thursday evening, the official start of 'Black Friday'” reported the New York Daily News. Wait. Listen. Hear that sound from Westminster Abbey? It's Charles Dickens spinning in his grave. And it's that kind of lunacy that inspired me to turn to the wisdom of the ages, or perhaps I should say, the aged. Centenarians. If anyone knows how we should live, it's those who've done it successfully for one hundred years. If you're still around and sane after a century on this loony planet, you must be doing something right! DeAnna Kerley summarized this wisdom in her 2013 article 100 Pieces of Advice from 100-Year-Olds. Sliced, diced and boiled down, longevity comes down to just this: Keep busy pursuing your passions, learning and staying physically active. That's it! Voilà! That's how we should then live. Now, let's circle back to Christmas. What did our centenarians have to say about the Yuletide season? Subscribe to find out! Image courtesy of Ambro at FreeDigitalPhotos.net  Yeah. I didn't see it coming either. But there it is.
I'm on the HuffPost! To read my maiden post, click here! And don't forget to Like, Share, Tweet and Comment! http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/lenora-thompson/company-is-coming_b_8723986.html |