Author: thetypicalbroad@gmail.com

Why I Don’t Miss Facebook

Why I Don’t Miss Facebook

no-facebook

I gave up Facebook a few weeks ago during one of the more stressful months in my life. I don’t miss it at all. After some reflection, I think being off Facebook has been good for me and has helped decrease my overall anxiety level. I have been moved by an outpouring of support from friends, many of whom expressed that they also think Facebook can be detrimental to the psyche.

The problem with Facebook, one of my friends told me, is that it’s a highlight reel of people’s lives. It only shows the positive aspects instead of the daily struggles. Why? Because people are only compelled to share uplifting or funny things on Facebook. That’s the content that gets the most likes and comments, after all.

Being off of Facebook, I have come closer to an understanding of my own narcissistic nature. I’m not a complete narcissist (not the kind of self-absorbed jerk people hate), but I now recognize that I have narcissistic tendencies.

2000px-No_Facebook.svg

I grew up in a somewhat political household. Many of my relatives have served in public office and were absolutely wonderful people that you could depend on. I was raised with the idea that perception is everything. Perception is reality. You don’t reveal the less than pretty parts of yourself ever, because it affects people’s positive perception of you. Positive perception = votes (or likes!).

It  really matters to me what people think of me. That is why it took me so many years to reveal to people, even close loved ones, that I am diagnosed with anxiety and depression and I struggle with it daily. In the Irish Catholic household I grew up in, you simply didn’t talk about those things.

I suppose it’s no wonder I pursued public relations and marketing as a career. Because I worry so much about perception, I have a knack for knowing what people think about a particular thing and how best to adjust that thinking (if needed).

Facebook-Narcissism

Anyway, on Facebook, I think my narcissistic nature took over. I began obsessing over how many likes or comments I got on posts. Getting likes made me feel, well, liked. I like it when people like me! It satisfies my narcissistic nature.

I learned that most people don’t like serious and/or depressing posts. After all, they are driven to social media to escape. Many people are on social media during work hours for that very reason. People are on social media to be entertained. If you’re not entertaining and positive, you unliked, unfollowed, and sometimes unfriended.

We all hear the same complaints. “Ugh… I’m so tired of Tim’s depressing posts. Why can’t he just lighten up?” or, “I unfollowed Jill today. Her political posts are so annoying!”

And I totally understand. I’ve done it myself.

But then that sort of attitude forces people to make their lives appear to be all sunshine and roses. And due to how Facebook organizes your news feed now, most of the things your friends see are the sunshine and roses of your life. Those posts get bumped up in the news feed because they get more likes, comments, and shares.

But life isn’t all sunshine and roses. I feel that we really need to address that in social media. Lately there have been more news stories about people who have committed suicide and left family and friends wondering, “Why? She seemed just fine.” The most troubling story I saw was about star athlete Madison Holleran, a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania who took a running leap off a parking garage in Philadelphia. Her Instagram documented a happy, healthy, and successful college student. Hardly anyone had a clue how much this girl was struggling, and therefore couldn’t help her.

madison-holleran-suicide

A photo from Madison Holleran’s Instagram account.

In the past few weeks, I’ve thought of what I’m going to call “social media truth posts” (hashtag #socialmediatruth) that tell people what’s been really going on in my life:

  1. My husband and I have absolutely no savings right now (due to the recent drama with our Jeep that I detailed in another post).
  2. I weigh more than I’ve ever weighed in my entire life, and I’m really embarrassed about it. It has to do with a number of factors, but mostly because I’ve been doing a lot of stress eating lately and I’m on medication that increases my hunger and slows my metabolism.
  3. I can’t fit into most of my clothes anymore and can’t really afford to purchase more clothing, so I’m wearing essentially the same outfits to work every week.
  4. My face has exploded with mini, pus-filled volcanoes (acne) that are also due to stress. It is so humiliating that I can barely look at people I work with and hope they don’t interact with me.
  5. I am probably more depressed than I’ve ever been in my life (more on this in a future post).

However, there have been some positives:

  1. We purchased a 2013 Nissan Versa to replace the Jeep. It’s a very nice car, and has been very reliable so far. We are already saving a lot of money on gas.
  2. My husband has been incredibly supportive as we’ve gone through this rough patch.
  3. I feel like I’m connecting with family and friends on a more real level (outside Facebook).
  4. My anxiety has gone down significantly.
  5. I’ve been reading more! In the past couple of weeks, I’ve finished Orange is the New Black by Piper Kerman, Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and A Fighting Chance by Elizabeth Warren.

Just for fun, I’m sharing this picture with you. It’s what I would post to Facebook with the #socialmediatruth hashtag. It’s me after applying a Proactiv mask to the areas of my face where I have acne right now.  #nofilter #soglamorous

IMG_6727

And here’s a picture to go with my positive statements: our new car in front of our favorite liquor store, Lincoln Liquors. It’s Baby Nissan’s first trip to the packie!

IMG_6715

So there you have it: my real life with all of its ups and downs. Maybe you can relate. If so, I’m glad. And I invite you to share your ups and downs with me too. Feel free to comment or message me (just don’t message me on Facebook, because I’m not checking it at all).

I might come back to Facebook someday, but not for the time being. When/if I do, it will be my goal to be as honest as possible with my posts, and show my world outside of the one that is seen with rose-colored glasses (Hashtag #KeepingItReal).

6 Things I Learned About Rape From “Missoula”

6 Things I Learned About Rape From “Missoula”

Fourteen years ago, I attended freshman orientation at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. Most of the time spent that weekend consisted of touring the campus, signing up for classes, learning about extracurricular activities, and choosing which housing area to live in.

15183822490_b05ebd8f2c_o
Me as a college freshman.

However the most unforgettable part of orientation was when a group of 40 of us soon-to-be college students sat down and listened to a presentation from the Everywoman’s Center, which provided  counseling and other services on campus for victims of abuse and sexual assault.

During the presentation, we were told that 1 in 4 of us would more than likely be raped by the time we graduated. The presenters even had us count off every fourth person in the room to provide a visual representation. Ten women were left with their hands raised. We looked around at each other, suspended in disbelief.

010_16A
The UMass campus.

A couple of years later, I ended up at University Health Services asking for the morning after pill. Even then, I still didn’t believe what I was told at freshman orientation. I blamed myself for drinking too much and for my history of promiscuity. I was also so depressed and callous at that point in my life that what happened didn’t affect me much then. Sure, I was treated like I was worthless, but I already felt worthless.

At that time, I felt like I deserved what happened to me.

The drinking and drug culture that was so prominent at UMass was partially to blame. I heard several stories from friends who had been taken advantage of by someone they knew while they were drunk and/or high. What made things more foggy was that both parties were usually drunk and/or high, and due to this, the instances were mostly treated by both parties as regrettable hookups rather than rapes (Massachusetts law includes language about lack of consent due to intoxication, but the assailant must know that the condition rendered the victim incapable of consenting).

Rape was ridiculously common on campus. And for the most part, it was committed by acquaintances, friends, and even boyfriends.

missoula-book

These are facts confirmed by Jon Krakauer in his new book, Missoula. In Missoula, Krakauer explores rape and the justice system on a single college campus: The University of Montana in Missoula.

While Missoula has since been dubbed the “rape capital of America,” Krakauer argues that the occurrence of rape on the UM campus is sadly about the same as other college campuses across the U.S.

Here are 6 of the main takeaways from the book:

1. Rape is more common than most people realize.

INSIDE-STORY-Rape-Statistics

In a study released in 2014, The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that 19.3% of American women have been raped in their lifetimes. That is approximately 1 in 5 women.

At least 80% of those who are assaulted don’t report the crime to authorities, which contributes to why rape seems less common than it is. Even rapes that are reported are rarely prosecuted, as we see in Missoula.

2. Most rape victims do not yell or fight.

allison-huguet
Allison Huguet, one of the rape victims whose story is depicted in ‘Missoula.’

To fully understand rape, one must understand the effects of trauma and how traumatic events can cause people to do things that don’t make sense to the rest of us.

This recent Washington Post article perfectly explains the psychological reasons why many rape victims don’t yell or fight. In essence, victims adopt an evolutionary reaction called “freezing,” which is comparable to the idea of “deer in the headlights.”

The majority of rape victims highlighted in Missoula did not scream or fight to get away from their assailants. Why is this? First, the majority of rapists depicted in Missoula are University of Montana football players, all of whom weighed at least 100 lbs. more than the women they assaulted. For the most part, the victims felt powerless against those who were assaulting them. Most of them were afraid that if they tried to fight or tell the assailant to stop that he would become more violent and even try to kill them.

Second, victims might not scream or try to escape because they are too incapacitated by alcohol and/or drugs.

3. The justice system fails rape victims while universities advocate for rape victims.

Kelsey-belnap
Kelsey Belnap, who was gang raped by four UM football players, did not see any justice as her own testimony was turned against her and the case was closed.

The thing that is most alarming about Missoula is how badly the justice system failed the rape victims whose stories are depicted in the book, all of whom were raped by University of Montana football players. Most of the failure can be attributed to the idol worship and economic impact associated with the UM football team, the Grizzlies. Eventually, the U.S. Department of Justice conducts an independent investigation and reports many troubling findings regarding the mishandling of rape cases in Missoula.

The findings showed that there was gross negligence and lack of up to date training for both local law enforcement and the Missoula County Attorney’s Office. This eventually leads to the establishment of Special Victim Units for both the Missoula Police Department and the Attorney’s Office. The fact that the U.S. Department of Justice even had to get involved is pretty damning. The findings resulting from their investigation are even more so.

It is sad that the University of Montana initially did more to advocate for rape victims than the police department or Missoula County Attorney’s Office. In essence, the university took more steps to ensure victims’ safety by expelling rapists for violating the university’s code of conduct (based on compelling evidence provided to the university).

4. Most rapists don’t believe they’re rapists.

beaudonaldson
Beau Donaldson, a UM Grizzlies football player who was “like a brother” and trusted friend to Allison Huguet until he raped her.

In Missoula, Krakauer relays the disturbing results of two independently conducted studies. The findings were based on men’s answers to unbiased questions about their sexual experiences, none of which mentioned the words “rape” or “assault”.

One study was conducted on a random sampling of men who were students at the University of Massachusetts in Boston between 1991 and 1998. 6.4% were identified as rapists, with 4% of the overall sample being repeat offenders. The researchers found that “most of the student rapists interviewed were regarded by their peers as ‘nice guys’ who would never rape anyone, and regarded themselves the same way.”

In a 2009 study of Navy recruits, researchers found that 13%, or 144 recruits of the 1,149 recruits studied, turned out to be “undetected rapists.” And 71% of these 144 recruits were repeat offenders.

According to the researchers, “(the undetected rapists) share this common idea that a rapist is a guy in a ski mask, wielding a knife, who drags women into the bushes…. they harbor all the usual myths and misconceptions about rape and believe ‘nice guys’ like themselves don’t rape.”

5. Rape is the most common cause of PTSD in women.

hillary-mclaughlin
Hillary McLaughlin, who was also assaulted by Beau Donaldson, experienced PTSD following the assault. 

Survivors of sexual assault exhibit similar behavior to those who have survived combat. Their symptoms may include flashbacks, insomnia, nightmares, hypervigilance, depression, isolation, suicidal thoughts, outbursts of anger, unrelenting anxiety, and an inability to shake the feeling that the world is spinning out of control. Rape is by far the most common cause of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in women.

6. Rape victims who come forward have almost nothing to gain and everything to lose.

In Missoula, it is clear that women who come forward with rape allegations and press charges have almost nothing to gain and everything to lose. The majority of the cases discussed in the book end with the rapists getting off scot-free, while the accuser’s name and reputation is forever smeared. Even in a case where the rapist confessed and was sentenced to prison, the accuser’s life and reputation was destroyed.

Due to how common this is, women are often advised to not pursue criminal charges against their rapists. Because doing so will literally ruin their lives. Each victim featured in the book has her life, as she knew it, destroyed. And because of this, each of the victims (most of whom agreed to be named in the book), are my heroes. They have fought the fight that very few have dared to take on.

Review

All in all, I am rating Missoula by Jon Krakauer 4 out of 5 stars. It is a very good, well-researched, and important read. The only reason I give it 4 out of 5 stars is because I wouldn’t recommend the book to everyone. I had to stop reading the book twice because it was so depressing (which isn’t the fault of the author, but rather the way rape victims were treated by people in Missoula). Read it if you are interested in the subject,  but please be aware that if you are a sexual assault survivor there are many triggering scenes in the book.

I am so grateful for the women who came forward to tell their stories in this book. They are my heroes. Their stories have and will inspire change in a broken and negligent justice system.

4-out-of-5-stars1

To learn more about this story in brief, feel free to view the following videos from a recent episode of ABC’s Nightline. Rape victims Allison Huguet, Kelsey Belnap, and Hillary McLaughlin, as well as author Jon Krakauer, were interviewed for the program.

‘Missoula’ Victim Secretly Records Her Rapist: Part 1

Inside ‘Missoula’ Campus Rape Investigations: Part 2

Bill Cosby Headlines Should Change “Sex” to “Rape”

Bill Cosby Headlines Should Change “Sex” to “Rape”

bill_cosby_68416

The justice system, society, and the media continue to fail rape victims, as we see in the huge “I told you so” that occurred today: documents were released showing that Bill Cosby admitted to giving Quaaludes to women so he could rape them.

Why does it take one deposition record being released vs. 30+ women who came forward (most of whom had ZERO opportunity for financial gain) for us to be convinced that Bill Cosby is a monster?

Because that’s what rape culture is.

And now, due to this culture, headlines are reading that Cosby drugged women “to have sex with him.”

Cosby didn’t drug women to have sex with him. The very word WITH assumes that consent is involved.

Cosby had sex ON women, not with them.

He raped them.

And now I’m asking every news publication I see using the word “sex” in relation to Cosby to please correct their headline to read “rape” instead.

And you know what? This hurts me. I grew up watching The Cosby Show and idolized Mr. Cosby as a family man and a role model for all.

I also took pride in the fact that Bill obtained his master’s and doctorate degrees from the same school I pursued my undergraduate degree, UMass Amherst.

2012_Bill_Cosby

But now that pride has turned to shame.

As I was looking for a picture to go with this post, I saw so many pictures of Mr. Cosby smiling. And I was temporarily forgetful and nostalgic, thinking of all the times he made me laugh growing up.

But it doesn’t change what he did to so many women.

I am truly saddened. Especially for the women affected.

Haiku Mondays: Happy 4th of July Weekend

Haiku Mondays: Happy 4th of July Weekend

11698580_10153210261506645_2701863564948314227_n

Ugly Bunny is
ready for July 4th, but
fireworks scare him.

We will keep him safe,
so he shouldn’t be worried.
“I am still worried.”

~

11698820_10153212348441645_4314825903701943073_n

There’s nothing quite like
a good book in the summer.
I love Kate Mulgrew.

Her story renders
me simultaneously
heartbroken and glad.

Another Irish
American Catholic soul
who understands me.

~

10985044_10153214574546645_5010990890919520026_n

The sunset is dope!
I want to dye my hair these
colors! That would rock!

~

11667448_10153218492366645_6441107312778032626_n

I love s’mores so much
Turning marshmallows into
Fluff is very fun

~

11140049_10153218493956645_1262432792467187975_n

July 4th weekend
Grilling burgers and hotdogs
And stuffing your face

~

11665737_10153222444601645_1758631564624561978_n

Had a nice July
4th spending time with friends and
eating all the food.

~

1908110_10153222440181645_8054980320143522245_n

Took time to “smell the
roses” this evening, except
it smelled like geese poop.

July 4th Revelers: Label Your Alcohol for Friends in Recovery

July 4th Revelers: Label Your Alcohol for Friends in Recovery

First of all, Happy 4th of July, everyone!

happy4th

I just wanted to provide a friendly reminder for your July 4th festivities: be sure to label all of the alcoholic items you provide at your party for your friends in recovery.

It can be easy to mistake booze for non-alcoholic beverages, and innocent-looking dessert items as alcohol-free. The reason I’m providing this reminder is because I have a brother who is in recovery. Last year, we went to a family party and there was a large beverage dispenser full of sangria. Because it wasn’t labeled, he initially mistook it for fruit punch and poured himself a cup.

sangria-3

He was in recovery for about three years at that point. And thank God he took a whiff of the drink before taking a sip, or else he would have risked relapsing. After smelling it, he asked me to taste it and tell me what it was. It was definitely sangria. I just about died thinking about how something so ordinary could automatically reverse the three years of progress in recovery. My brother works so hard to stay sober, and I felt a bit miffed at the party hosts, who knew my brother was in recovery but didn’t bother to tell him that the fruit punch-looking drink was sangria.

My brother wasn’t the only one who mistook the sangria for fruit punch. My 7-year-old nephew also tried pouring himself a cup of what he thought was fruit punch. We had to redirect him to the Hawaiian Punch in the cooler that was set aside for the kids at the party.

There are other things you need to watch out for. Not Your Father’s Root Beer is a popular drink right now. It’s alcoholic, but doesn’t really taste like it has alcohol in it.

beer_297316

Be sure to label this as well. A person in recovery could easily mistake this for ordinary root beer.

Also be sure to label any desserts made with alcohol. While it is true that some of the alcohol is baked out, there are other desserts that have alcohol in their frosting, which is not baked out. Italian Rum Cake is a perfect example.

Italian-Rum-cake-slice-1-2

It just seems like ordinary cake, and you wouldn’t know it had alcohol in it until you took a bite.

Please be sure to label all of your alcoholic items with a “Contains Alcohol” sign for your friends in recovery and people who haven’t reached the legal age to consume alcohol.

-contains-alcohol-(b,-1c)-T-Shirts

And please have a happy and safe 4th of July, everyone!

Haiku Mondays: Tornadoes, Same Sex Marriage, & More

Haiku Mondays: Tornadoes, Same Sex Marriage, & More

tornado-watch

Mass. tornado watch
“Laughable, man!” Kansans say.
Everyone calm down.

hotdog-pizza-pizza-hut

Hotdog pizza? Wow.
How much more gross can we get?
But ‘Merica, right?

confederate-flag

Confederate flag
supporters belong in a
museum with the flag.

same-sex-marriage

It’s about time that
same sex couples have the same
rights as straight couples.

true-detective

Today we re-watched
True Detective season 1.
Onto season 2!

bathroom-stall

Always choose the stall
with the broken lock because
it’s always cleaner.

saddest-people-robin-williams

I started a joke,
but I couldn’t finish it.
I hurt too many

with my crass humor.
The audience dwindled and
I stood there alone,

trying to explain
that it was all just in fun.
It was all in love.

Haiku Mondays :  Father’s Day Edition

Haiku Mondays : Father’s Day Edition

11535914_10153181411186645_6748892655064855024_n

I love my husband
Especially when he draws
He’s so talented

~

11392827_10153183070186645_2921082761190665240_n

Therapy today.
Learning new strategies to
combat the crazy.

~

10409633_10153184726841645_7116385284478697291_n

Almost late for work
two staties on the highway
no one will pass them.

~

11063635_10153187530451645_8403281553053728156_n

I want to follow
the sunshine forever and
leave dark days behind.

~

1904277_10153189725596645_4724513828064285459_n

Orange is the New
Black is consuming my life.
Nothing else to say

because I need to
get back to watching the show
4 episodes left!

~

sunset

 

Beautiful sunset
so fleeting. Birds chirp goodnight.
A warm memory.

~

fathers-day

Happy Father’s Day
to the best Dad in the world!
I love you so much!

~

BONUS HAIKUS

By my Dad!

In response to the above haiku:

IMG_1674

Beautifully done
Thoughtful, sincere, poetic-
Haiku. Made my day!

~

Written after I visited my him and my Mum last weekend:

interstellar

Weekend with daughter
Time so fleeting – speed of light!
was “Interstellar”…

(We watched the movie Interstellar that weekend) 🙂

Haiku Mondays: Car Troubles and More

Haiku Mondays: Car Troubles and More

11401138_10153169748961645_8258148380018132601_n

Car trouble today
It’s only the battery
More money for me!

~

11013622_10153171222596645_7660103727851722048_n

Time to go to bed
I stayed up too late last night
Doing what I love.

~

11111043_10153172860961645_8379836122105968975_n

Stupid fucking foot
It’s always getting fucked up
When I try to run

~

11407259_10153174482276645_2931696139247603444_n

AC is broken
Eh, it’s almost fall… except
my bra is soaked through.

~

11200874_10153175671961645_8379589313758304257_n

Hate is fueled by the
greatest love of all and the
betrayal of it.

~

11391485_10153177430471645_6687972646219426242_n

Sensitive people
Need to man or woman up
I’m tired of them

I was always taught
To hide feelings for the sake
Of keeping the peace

I do what I need
To do to prevent battles.
I can’t take more wars.

~

10422235_10153178797386645_4717049342174292396_n

The pilgrims came to
Plymouth for the water to
brew beer. True story.

~

Below is a special haiku written my my friend Donovan.  Really moving and a must share!

11013440_10153176183696645_5715483919868912301_n

Somewhere within me
Is a cold, dark heart in pain
Searching for sunshine

The Memory of My Nana

The Memory of My Nana

My beloved Nana Rose Mace would have been 102 years old today.

18436212149_73187457d5_b
Nana, as I remember her.

And, perhaps in honor of the occasion, she visited me this Saturday. At a yard sale.

Nana died of stroke complications when I was 12 years old. Looking back, her death was a bit of a blessing in disguise, since was in the midst of the second stage of Alzheimer’s disease. I was glad to know the kind and slightly forgetful woman over the combative, abusive, or catatonic Alzheimer’s sufferers I encountered early in my career in home health and long term care settings.

She was so sweet in her forgetfulness, like she was sweet in life. She forgot to eat lunch, so we ordered her Meals-on-Wheels as a daily reminder. She confused her pills and forgot to eat dinner, so my Mum visited her each evening after work to organize her medications and make sure she had something to eat. She tried to pay her rent three times in one month, so Mum took over balancing her checkbook. She could no longer read books, because she would forget what happened in the previous chapters that led to the content on the current page.

Nana as a young woman.
Nana as a young woman.

When Nana asked the same questions over and over again, my brothers and I were taught to treat each instance as if it were the first time we heard the question. Visits with her were very pleasant due to this. Nana was never embarrassed by being called out for asking the same question twice. (I’ve seen family members of Alzheimer’s sufferers do this, and it ALWAYS made me cringe.)

What I remember most about Nana was her shy, serene smile. She was truly a saint, who went to church regularly and truly lived the Bible. She had kind words to say about everyone, even the  most unlikable people.

Each time Mum and I would take the elevator up to the 4th floor of 17 Mill Street, the doors would open and I would catch a glimpse of Nana’s perfect white curls and lovely face peeking out of her apartment door at the end of the hallway. And she always had that beautiful smile that reflected God’s love.

IMG_5087
Nana’s sweet smile is what I remember about her most.

And when I saw her down that hallway, I would run to her. And I would hug her. And I would exclaim, “Hi Nana!” And she would greet me back, her blue eyes twinkling with the joy of the Lord.

Nana had a collection of music boxes in her apartment that I personally treasured. Whenever I visited, I would take the music boxes off the shelves, one by one, and wind them up to play them. I had to be careful, since some of them were delicate porcelain.

They sounded so beautiful.

After Nana died 20 years ago, I couldn’t listen to music boxes much. I still have trouble listening to them. They always make me cry, because I miss her so much. And I miss the last time in my life where I knew true innocence, bliss, and comfort.

16233573960_141c794a9d_k
Me, about 12 years old.

The one music box I loved in particular that was shaped like a piano. It wasn’t as delicate as the others, but it sang more sweetly than the rest in my memory.

I found this EXACT music box at the yard sale I attended on Saturday. And when I saw it sitting there so ordinarily, marked at 50 cents, my emotions completely took over.

I called my mother over. “Mum!” I said, and showed her the music box. “Didn’t Nana have this exact one?”

Mum gasped. “Yes, she did.”

“This is the one I always wanted when she died,” I said.

“I know. I thought I gave that to you,” she said.

18436562879_4f6529321b_k
My Dad with Nana. He says she was the best mother-in-law ever.

The reason I didn’t inherit this music box when Nana died is up for debate. The way I remember it is that my cousin Anita took it, along with a few others. When Nana passed, Anita expressed that she wished to have a few of Nana’s music boxes to remember her by. So she took a few home to North Carolina with her.

“I thought Anita took a bunch of Nana’s music boxes after she died,” I said to Mum.

“If she did, I didn’t know of it,” Mum said.

Anita could be very manipulative and sneaky. In fact, after my Uncle Walt (her father) died, my Mum and Aunt Betty (Anita’s stepmother) felt like they couldn’t leave Betty’s house for fear that Walt’s kids would steal his prized possessions – some of which were worth good money (that they could sell to buy drugs with. Yes, this offshoot of my family is stereotypical “southern white trash”). Anita couldn’t be bothered to send my Uncle a birthday card when he was living, but she sure wanted his things after he died. It was the same with Nana.

The thing about people who want stuff after loved ones die? It’s because that’s ALL THEY HAVE. They don’t have as many memories with the person who died, or they’re just plain greedy.

17999773614_2bab1345fe_k
Mum, Uncle Larry, Nana, and Uncle Walt.

For years, I hated Anita for taking the piano music box that I loved most, and some of the other music boxes I loved. We fell out of touch after that, and there was no way I could get them back from her. But I found comfort in the fact that I had wonderful memories with my Nana that Anita would never have.

And then, 20 years later, only a few days away from my Nana’s 102nd birthday, that piano music box I longed to have for years was sitting there at a yard sale. Marked at 50 cents.

music-box-memory
Nana’s music box.

I held it in my hands tightly, careful not to drop it, trying to process it all.

I felt as thought the universe and my Nana in Heaven wanted this music box to come back to me.

Another strange coincidence occurred this week. The other day, while meditating, I had a vision that I met my Nana in Heaven. She was a young woman again, with longer, curly brown hair styled neatly. So beautiful. And she gave me that kind, serene smile she always beamed with. Her sense of peace and tranquility always made her my hero (perhaps because I have such a long way to go to achieve that).

18432584678_b9f8865550_k
Nana.

I wanted to ask her so many questions. But we seemed to both understand each other, so verbal questions weren’t really necessary. I wondered where my grandfather was. I wondered how much she loved him, even though he drank so much and eventually died from cirrhosis. I wondered how she felt when he died. I wondered how she finished raising four children all by herself. I wondered if she would take me to see Uncle Walt. But in some strange way, I understood all the answers when she looked at me. And then she hugged me.

17998812324_5ea929fac0_k
My grandfather and my Nana, as I saw her in my vision.

And I knew that one day she would lead me to Jesus.

At the yard sale, I thought of that vision again. Then I mustered up the courage to wind up the music box, and opened the little plastic piano cover to hear its sweet tune.

The song was from the musical Cats.

It played “Memory.”

18596307956_4ed7e203a8_k
Nana and I.