Retrospective

2015 was a rollercoaster ride I’m anxious to get off.   

The ride has been excessively jerky and bumpy and mostly uphill. 

I have even been thrown off track a few times.  

In terms of good years and bad years, 2015 ranks as one of the worst personal years of my life. 

I will be crying tears of joy when the ball drops at midnight on 12/31 and hope there are bluer, sunnier skies ahead. 

I’ve been residing under a black cloud for ten months and counting.  2015 still has three months to go and there’s no end to sight to the immediate challenges I’m facing. I already know 2016 won’t start any better.  It has only just begun.   Some days are tougher than others.

2015 saw the resurrection of According to Lisa, a blog site I began in 2011 and soon abandoned due to unforeseen life circumstances.    I rose from the ashes like a Phoenix in 2015 and posted first on a bi-monthly schedule, and in more recent months at a more aggressive pace (while also blogging as sfbaygirl bi-weeklyl!). 

I also did something I vowed I would never do, and that was join social media in April.  It has been a mixed blessing, but I have made some unexpected friendships as well as accrue a modest following.

Due to personal life circumstances once again and travel plans from mid-October thru January 2016, this is the last official post of 2015!!!  I won’t be able to post while traveling, as part of vacation for me involves unplugging from electronic devices, including internet and phone, but I may send an occasional tweet or two if time permits.  I don’t want to lose momentum and followers during this 2 ½ month hiatus, especially with 27 new followers this month.  But I will be off the grid for the most part until January.

I have no idea where the year went.  It was definitely a blur.   There were many conflicting priorities and barriers thrown at me.   

Everything actually went to pot starting the week of Thanksgiving 2014.  At 2:00am I keeled over in horrendous pain.  Ending up in the emergency room and after six hours of tests, the incessant parade of surgeries, doctor visits, waiting rooms, labs, procedures, and prescriptions began, starting in December (see Pair of Socks).  Post-op issues led to more procedures in January, all of which I am still dealing with into October. 

The most life-threatening and life-changing surgery of all will sideline me again next week and the future is uncertain.  Another set of travel and holiday plans will be affected for the second year in a row if I make it off the OR table this weekend. 

The publishing of my book was delayed due to the aggressive blog posting schedule I set for myself in 2015 (bi-weekly on both sites), and for incessant health reasons.  While I won’t be giving too many hints away, the book will include a small handful of my personal posts with some revision, and I will also be delving into deeper, more personal, edgier and potentially controversial topics.

Part of the book delay has been due to my indecision as to how much detail to go into, what topics to cover and what topics to leave unaired, partially out of respect for others who would be impacted.  On the other hand, publicly discussing a few “uncomfortable topics” may be beneficial to some readers who will know they are not alone.  It’s a difficult decision to make, as once I open the door, I won’t be able to close it again. 

The most important man in my life has fully encouraged me to say what I need to say, as difficult as it may be for myself and others in my life, past or present.  The book will be dedicated to his unrelenting presence in my life and support over the past twenty years.

Keeping on this personal note, I want to take this opportunity to acknowledge and thank a very special person who had an extremely unexpected and profound impact on my life the past three months.  You know who you are. 

‘nuff said…

 Hope to see you all back here on the flip side in 2016.    Thank you for following my journey in 2015.

Lisa

Brother Can You Spare a Dime?

It’s humorous how members of the older generation are so preoccupied with events that have yet to happen, are highly improbable and completely out of one’s control. 

It’s a wonder I‘m able to exist at all and manage surrounded by so much danger!  Did I remember to wear a coat?  Do I ride public transportation by myself?  Do I walk on dark streets alone at night?  Do I look around and be sure no one is following me?  Do I travel in groups?  Do I carry mace, a whistle, a weapon to protect myself? Do I check my backseat and make sure no one is lurking there?  Do I talk to strangers?  Do I open my door after 8pm? Did I remember to breathe?  Did I remember to change my underwear (because you never know when you may end up in the emergency room!)?   

These questions were cause for great concern and many hours of lost sleep.  

I was and continue to be surrounded by perpetual worriers.  And it got worse when I transplanted across the country.

During the 70’s, while on a trip to Florida during a standard, New England winter, my grandfather returned home to find the pipes had frozen and the house flooded.   Taking this as some kind of sign (or a perpetual excuse that suited him just fine), my grandfather could never be convinced to leave the house again over the remaining thirty years of his life.  If my grandmother was able to drag him out, the furthest he agreed to go was within an hour’s distance and no more than a few hours at a time. 

My paternal grandparents were extremely money-conscious.  Having lived frugally during the Depression era, they learned to use everything they had without ever wasting.  Money was hard to come by during that time.  The entire animal would be used when cooking, no part wasted or spared.  Every piece of scrap paper was written on and reused, unnecessary electricity shut off.  Certain rooms in the house were actually closed off during the winter to save on the heating bill. 

After visiting them each week, we were subjected to an unusual ritual.  Upon arriving back at our house after each visit, it was my job to dial their phone, allow it to ring once, then hang up.  This signaled we arrived home safely.  At the same time, we also had the upper hand on the phone company and wouldn’t owe the dime a long distance call cost at that time.  What a scheme to cheat the phone company!  Since the call was not actually received on the other end, it theoretically didn’t exist, no bill would be generated, and no money owed to the phone company for the call.  At least that was my grandmother’s theory. 

However there was a grand flaw in her scheme.  The number of rings the caller heard on their end of the phone wasn’t the same number of rings the receiver heard on their end.   We would hear one ring on our end and my grandmother would hear two.   This would result in an immediate call back to our phone with a desperate inquiry why we rang the phone twice.  What did two rings mean?  Had something terrible happened?  Had we been in an accident?  Had the pipes frozen at the house?  Had the house burned down while we were gone for two hours? 

Now owing the phone company ten cents for the call, the entire ritual became counter-productive, took more time, caused more worry, and the dime saved resulted in a dime spent.  But you could never argue with the elders of that generation.  Back then it was considered a sign of disrespect.   

The baton of worry was passed on from my grandparents to my parents, and now to me.  It is a perpetual balancing act to keep in touch and provide informational updates, while keeping certain levels of detail unknown. 

 

It's the only way to protect them.   They can’t handle the truth.