Chapter 15
Looking Within
July 25, 1991, Thursday, 2 PM
Now I’m really behind. Hoping to get caught up before Taylor’s operation tomorrow. We’ll see how far I get before he wakes from his nap.
Today is Chuck and Janice’s 33rd anniversary, three years since Bruce asked me to marry him, and a year since we bought the van. I am continually amazed at the increasing speed at which time goes by. Now, to recap the past couple of weeks that disappeared into thin air.
Let’s see, I left off on the 7th. On Monday the 8th, Taylor and I went into Aberdeen and I purchased candle-making supplies, and then we drove out to Westport to Windowsill Herbs. I had seen some of their herbs at the farmer’s market and they looked so healthy. I ended up spending half of my allowance (yes, Bruce and I each have an agreed-upon allowance of $100/month now!).
Taylor wasn’t too happy there at first. I had to wake him from his nap, and the place was huge, and I was trying to look at plants, and he didn’t want to be in his stroller and threw a tantrum. I took him out to the car and got him calmed down. When we went back in, I let him crawl around on the dirt floor and play with plants. Much happier. I loaded up the stroller with herbs, and he pushed it all the way out front. So cute. I kept telling him what a big help he was, and he was so excited and proud of himself.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were workdays, as usual. Mostly at home Tue/Wed, and then into Oly on Thursday. When at home, it’s been working pretty good for me to work early in the morning before Taylor wakes up and then again when he takes his several-hours-long nap in the afternoon. Thursday, he stayed at Serendipity and ended up catching a cold from the other sick kiddos :(.
On our way home that afternoon, I stopped at Elma Pharmacy and picked up some supplies for making a cream I’d read about. Nourishing Marigold Cream. I had to steep Marigold flowers and leaves overnight, so I didn’t get to make it till the next morning. Bruce was working late, so I made a facial mask to pass the time after I put Taylor down for the night. Cucumber, cantaloupe, green pepper, vinegar, honey, yogurt, and oatmeal. Interesting combo! Then I wore it for 20 minutes, expecting Bruce to walk in and laugh at me, but he didn’t get home till after 11.
He thought he had Friday and the rest of the weekend off, so he ended up staying up for a while, drinking beer and unwinding. He didn’t sleep very well, so he got up with Taylor the next morning. And then, as it usually does, the phone rang and he had to go to work after all, and he ended up working all weekend.
Friday morning, I made the cream. Didn’t turn out exactly as I’d hoped, but what fun!! The rest of the day I cleaned house and hung out with Taylor.
Saturday, he and I drove to Oakville to check out a swap meet even though I didn’t have any more money to spend. We also went to the Acorn something antique store. On the way back home, I stopped alongside the road to pick some flowers. In the process, I saw a pile of needles and arm ties. Made me sick and I couldn’t quit thinking about it all the way home.
Back in town, we stopped at Dennis Company to try and turn the leftover yellow paint from Taylor’s dresser [which had been Bruce’s as a baby and is now in our outdoor shed holding all manner of odds and ends] into dark green so I could paint the church pews I got from Pat earlier in the week. All we could achieve was pastel green. Not the right color, so I’ll wait. [Thankfully, as I much prefer the unpainted pew that we still have!]
I felt depressed toward the end of the day. Bored and wished Bruce was home. I made Snickerdoodles as a pick-me-up. Don’t know why I was depressed. Close to that time of the month, I guess. I’ve always hated it when a woman [or especially a man] blames how she feels or acts on “that time,” but the older I get, the more I am aware that “that time” affects me.
The other day I felt like my stomach was going to fall out every time I stood up, so of course I started worrying I have cancer or something. But then I remembered that this feeling happens about once a month, and it dawned on me that this is maybe when I’m ovulating. I should keep track. Bruce really wants to know if it’s that so we could plan and do it without rubbers until I ovulate! He is sick of those things, and I’m not too fond of them during sex either, except for it’s nice not to have stuff running out and down my legs and everywhere after.
My cycle and periods were always mild when I was young, which is maybe one reason I was a little out of touch with my body. Another reason was likely a lack of traditions and rituals in my culture at the time that would have helped me honor my cycle and the wide spectrum of emotions and gifts inherent with being female.My mom handed me a clinically oriented book, I can't even remember the title, and we had a brief and awkward conversation. Beyond that, there were the sex-ed films in school in which everyone snickered but never discussed anything seriously. I don't even recall in-depth discussions with friends. Basically, I was informed I'd have blood coming out of down there. It was primarily addressed as a nuisance, and not much more. When my period finally started, I told my mom. Instead of helping me get my own supplies, she told me to use her bathroom, which was in my parents' bedroom. This lack of privacy, and how my dad looked at me when I went in there, made me incredibly uncomfortable. So I hid my period for a very long time after.Subsequently, I was so worried that my mom would ask me about my period that I avoided spending time with her. I could feel at the time that this was harming our relationship, but I valued my privacy and autonomy more. And then one day at the breakfast table, my mom said she figured I should go to the doctor since I hadn't had my period in so long. I had to tell her the truth. It was a painful period. Pardon the pun. And as I write here today--International Women's Day 2021, by the way--I'm aware that I compartmentalized this pain and shame for a very long time. No wonder I avoided my body. I suspect here that I still have some emotional work that I've been avoiding. I wish I could work through it with my mom, with a few tears and likely a bit of laughter. To be clear, in this particularly raw and unfiltered writing, I'm not blaming my mother. She was doing the best she could with what she knew. I know she loves me, and I hope she knows that I love her.
Sunday, I had been considering going to the assembly in Tacoma, just to try and decide once and for all about the Witnesses, but Taylor got sick. Was that my answer?
I was so close to going back, and then the thing that stopped me, besides Taylor’s birthday, was that I read about the numbers of Witnesses worldwide and where they reside. There are Witnesses all over the world, but percentage-wise, a majority of them are on this continent, and in the U.S. specifically. Something doesn’t seem right about that. God’s supposedly “chosen people” are predominantly Americans? Yeah, I get that the religion began here, but this is God, right?
It also bothers me that they don’t put more emphasis on caring for the planet today versus talking about the paradise they will create after Armageddon. I recall talks about the Witnesses being known for how clean they leave facilities after assemblies, for example, but why don’t they make recycling and conserving a must? I asked my mom why they don’t encourage recycling, and she admitted she wonders about the scripture “God will put to ruin those ruining the earth.”
I’m confused. Really. I see some good things, but then I see other things that bother me. They claim to be the only true religion and that this truth is evidenced by remaining apart from the world, and because they preach from door to door, have God’s name in their name, don’t participate in the military, and they don’t celebrate holidays. But there are other religions that take some similar stances. I’ve been thinking a lot about the Amish recently. Now there is a group who appear, from what I’ve seen so far, to be no part of the world, or at least markedly different. I’m curious to know what their beliefs are and what they base them on.
I had expressed this same curiosity to the elders several years before when I willingly met with them (because that was what I'd been trained to do) after making some grave errors in my first marriage. They asked if I believed the Witnesses have the truth. I said I wasn't sure and that I was curious about other religions, too. "Like what about Buddhists?" I asked. "They seem to have some interesting perspectives." Of course, the elders didn't appreciate this open-minded curiosity. I’ve also been wondering lately if we are in hell already? Or maybe we are reincarnated, and we keep getting a new life to try to better ourselves? Then when we finally become the kind of person God wants to share a perfect earth with, he transports us there? Maybe he thought that if a person went through enough things and had enough time and chances, he would eventually change? But maybe he would still need to pay for his misdeeds somehow, so he would have to die and start over until he finally got it right? Is it a far-out idea? Well, the bible says God created me in his image and gave me the ability to consider and think up the “what ifs.” Hmmm.
No matter what, I know there has got to be more to it than what we see life as now. And I hope to become the kind of person who deserves better. And I want to share whatever else there is with my husband and son. I can’t conceive ever being without them. If my theory is right, I hope we keep getting reincarnated into the same family and eventually all end up together!
And if the Witnesses are right, I hope Jehovah sees my confusion and helps me onto the right path.
Taylor just woke and is crying, and I haven’t even gotten to the next week yet!
