Open Season

      Well, we've made it through December and the most magical week of the entire year in southern Ohio has already come and gone:   Deer season.  Thousands of camouflage-clad men and boys from parts unknown converge upon our little tight-knit communities in droves.  Supposedly, these guys are search of the elusive whitetail deer.  

Here's how it works:  They hitch the dilapidated 1970s camper to their late-model shiny show pickup and hit the road, bound for a place in which they would never otherwise willingly visit.  It's all just a ploy to escape their lives and wives for a solid week and enjoy the company of their drinking buddies without being nagged to take out the trash.  Or to take a shower.  
       This year, I decided it was time to turn the tables.  Through the magic of the cell phone camera, the hunters became the hunted.  I decided to capture a few of these creatures foraging for food and beverage in the local Wal-Mart one evening and provide a commentary of what I witnessed.  

     This was the picture that launched the whole idea. When I first spotted this vehicle on the highway, I was just sure it was headed to a gas station or the local Walmart to re-stock the ice & beer in that green cooler.  I was wrong.  Much to my dismay, they blew right past every opportunity to load up, which told me they were late arrivals headed to the nearby campground.  Probably stopped off at a motel the night before and spent the first day of deer gun season in a casino.  And why not?  Shooting a deer wasn't really the goal anyway. 

     This one is a bit blurry, but I assure you that guy had on his camouflage regalia and was making a beeline for the beer aisle.  I was trying to find the most discreet way to snap some candid shots without arousing suspicion. 

     This guy was fun.  He seemed to be the social butterfly of his party.  And he has a cool hat.  While capturing this shot, I overheard him conversing with a random shopper.  This is how I learned his crew was from West Virginia.  

     This is the same guy, just moments later in the beer aisle.  I know you can't see it because the picture is lousy, but he still has his fun hat on and has a six-pack tucked under one arm and is going for another one.  Stay thirsty, my friend.  

      This gentleman has brought his son along and they are selecting lunch meat. I thought it was nice he was including his son in his week away from the womenfolk. Also, I thought it was nice of him to get some sammich-making supplies, rather than insisting upon self-sufficiency and playing Survivorman.  Gotta respect a guy who knows his limits. 

     Yes, you need a couple Lunchables for tomorrow, Dude.  It's a long climb down from that tree stand when the hunger strikes.  

     These guys (above) were not together, yet they are simultaneously using technological resources to aid in supplying their respective groups for the hunt.  I'm guessing they drew the short straw for the beer & beef jerky run.  They share the Synchronized Shopping Award. 

     These fellas were on a mission.  At first I thought they were barreling through for the beer aisle. . . .maybe. . . .

        . . .  nope, just grabbing some dew & coke. 

     They then ventured away from the grocery section, and I needed fabric softener, so I decided they were worth tracking a bit further.  

     The trail for this herd ended in the video section.  Here they are discussing the plot of various action films :

     If I were choosing a group to hang out with around the campfire, it would be this one.  Just 3 mild-mannered guys sharing a week in the great outdoors . . . and WalMart.  Since  they were the most interesting ones I found during my hunt, they win the Trophy Buck award.  I wish them well.  

     The guys in the picture below are also on a mission.  If there had been a fence or a hunter orange "caution-wet floor" safety cone in their way, I'm certain they would have leaped right over it.  Since they are headed toward the pharmacy area, I'm thinking maybe they need Rolaids.  

     

     The gentleman above gets the Efficient Checkout Award.  He spent considerable time weighing his checkout options.  After much analysis and evaluation, he selects checkout #1.  He seems satisfied with his decision.  Way to go, Efficient Checkout Guy!

Epilogue:

  The photos that follow represent the departure of our annual visitors.  This photo was harvested the day after the conclusion of deer gun season.  Apparently a stop at WalMart is in order to provide snacks for the debriefing that will occur during the journey back to their native lands.

    Notice there are no deer strapped to the vehicle to herald their success.   Very sad. 

     There were plenty of deer to be had, however.  This one stood by the side of the road so long, I had time to snap several photos.  I'm convinced she would've let me approach her if I had tried.  I have a hard time thinking of these creatures as "elusive."  You just have to know where to look.  The most popular hangout seems to be anyplace near a roadway. 

     For the grand finale, I captured this image the following week.  Someone's makeshift recreational vehicle is for sale.  It truly is the piéce de résistance because the proud creator has thought of everything.  It's mobile.  It has the camouflage, so the occupants can use it as a blind as well as living quarters.  And yes, indeed, that is a snorkel on the right side of the cab.  This is truly a work of engineering genius.  

     I'll never know whether any of the hunters featured here were successful in bagging any deer.  But I know I was successful in nabbing my prey.  

     See you fellas next year.  

Been awhile . . .

     It has been quite awhile since my last post.  Honestly, I just haven't had a whole lot to say and, believe it or not, I've been busy.  I simply decided not to force myself to write a bunch of meaningless garbage just for the sake of posting on a semi-regular basis.  

     Summertime has come and gone since I last wrote anything, and I'm glad.  The second school year without me has begun, and the world hasn't stopped spinning due to my absence.

     Yesterday I set foot inside a school building (NOT Xyz School, btw).  It was for a non-school gathering.  Being as this was my first venture into an elementary school in well over a year, it dredged up some things I never expected.  

     First, let me say, I'm so glad that I went to this event.   For one thing, I got to hang with my 2 best friends, the ones who have been there through everything.  And for another thing, it involved bingo and bingo makes me remember good times at my grandparents' home.  My grandma had a dollar store bingo game and, for a younger me, playing bingo with grandma was the greatest thing ever.  Don't underestimate the impact that everyday, seemingly insignificant things have on your children and grandchildren.  It's amazing what sticks with a person.  

     Anyway, I had a great time.  But when I returned home from this gathering, I just felt really strange, almost uneasy.  I couldn't put my finger on it for a few hours.    Finally, it came to me:  I had gone into a setting exactly like the one in which I had lived and breathed and worked for such a long time.  I was forced to face a small chunk of my 21-year failure.  Turns out, that's kind of a big deal.  

     However, I survived and I got over the inexplicable uncomfortable feeling and was just fine.  The next morning, I got the best text from one of my friends who attended the gathering.  That text meant so much to me.  The sender will never know how much.  It's just nice to know there are still a few people with whom I can chat. 

      So, 24 hours later, I'm still kind of hashing it all out in my mind, wondering why in the world was I so upset after having such a good time seeing my best friends.  

     I think leaving a job, for any reason, is almost like you have ceased to exist for everyone that you knew and with which you had constant contact during that period in your life.  It's like being dead, and yet there you are, still walking around invisible and seeing that everything just goes on without you.  I'm ok with that. It's just an incredibly surreal feeling at times when I am forced to confront it.

I'm thankful I don't think about it that much anymore.

    So, that's where I am now.  As I look back at all the huge changes that have come in the past 21 months (see July 2013 posts),  I realize I just never know what I'm going to think or how I'm going to feel from one day to the next.  I see different facets every time I'm forced to analyze.   At this point, I've become what I wanted to be when the whole thing started:  a ghost.  But now that I've finally achieved that, I'm looking to the next goal and simply learning to be content with where I am until I evolve into it.   

      I'm also figuring out along the way, that it really will never be over for me.  Despite my best efforts, I can never get back what was taken from me.  But, really, do any of us ever get our former selves back after a life-altering event?  I'm inclined to think not, and have therefore ceased trying.  

     Turns out that's kind of a big deal, too.

     

     

You Can't Go Home Again

   I used to think the quote "You can't go home again" was just utterly ridiculous.  I have heard this at various times and places and would always think to myself "Nonsense!!  Of course you can go home again!!"

     Well, I finally get it and let me be the one to tell you the cold, hard truth:   You really can't go home again.  It isn't there anymore.  Even if you never left "home," it still isn't there. 

     Home is generally what we think of as the place where we (a) grew up or (b) spent a period of time when we were most comfortable or had the most awesome experiences of our lives.   If you are in that sweet spot right now, you don't know it and you aren't going to realize it until it is over, and by then, the moment is lost forever.  Later, when it's too late to scramble back, and when things aren't so swell, you're going to think "Gosh, that was the best time of my life, I really had it made then!"  

     Think about it for a few minutes.  Pinpoint the best time of your life.  The period that you wouldn't mind repeating if you were given the opportunity.  . . . . . got one?  Now, ask yourself, "Did I realize how awesome that period was when I was busy living it?"  Obviously you did not, because you moved on.  But now, looking back, you wonder what ever possessed you to go on to the next phase.  Right about now, you are probably realizing, with complete horror, that you were batshit crazy to have ever moved on to the next part of your life when you had it so good.

      You can also apply this quote in the most literal sense, as in the place where you grew up.  If you were a lucky kid, home was safe and comfy.  Often, as adults overburdened with countless responsibilities, or as we move into old age, we long to return to that safe, comfy place.  We have an image in our mind of what it was like and we expect that if we could just return, it would be exactly the same as when we left it.  

       Let me be the one to destroy your yearning for the past:  "Home" is not going to be the same.  People have changed, scenery probably has too.  Old buildings are gone, new ones are in their places, neighborhoods become dilapidated or rejuvenated.  Storms, fires, humans and other forces have removed bits and pieces of the basis for your perfect memory until it's just no longer tangible.   The memory is all you have left.   You can't get back to whatever helped form those memories. 

     So, I guess the point here is, try to look around at whatever you may have going on in your life.  Try your hardest to avoid stressing over the inconsequential garbage and savor whatever you can find that is good, happy and comfortable about the here and now.  

      After all, you're going to need those good memories to help you define your new "home" the next time you discover that the old one has vanished and is no longer accessible by any means other than your imagination.  

Am I There Yet?

Note from Goldie:  I wrote this about a year ago and never published it.  I have no idea why I didn't.   It seems to be a common theme for me this time of year, as the post I've just completed has a similar theme.     

I've been on a long hiatus from writing again.  Just haven't been in the mood to share any thoughts, although there have been plenty floating around in my head.  I've been spending the months since the anniversary date doing anything and everything that doesn't amount to wasting my time thinking about my former life and events that ended it.  Am I there yet?  No.  

     But I am getting closer.  I no longer waste much time and energy thinking about what happened, how I got here, what is going on at XYZ Elementary, and most of all, why things are what they are in general.   No one can tell me I mattered, because I haven't heard a word from anyone in the administration, or school board, and that silence alone speaks volumes.   I have not reached out to anyone either because it's just better this way.  Just way too awkward on both sides. 

     Do people think I'm crazy?  The people who really know me, no.  People who think they know me, maybe.  Anyone else on the outside, probably. Do I really care what anyone thinks?  No.  

     The main thing that pisses me off at this point are the effects with which I am left:  extreme sensitivity to noise and movement being number one right now.  Generally, I can't stand being in a room with more than one other person.  I can't stand sudden loud noises like my husband's over-dramatized sneezing. Or banging cabinet doors and clattering dishes.  Or being hammered with a series of insignificant questions upon either one of us returning to the house. Or conversations between my son & husband going on with the television or radio on at the same time.  Just regular everyday stuff that used to be no problem.  I can get physically ill or reach a point of extreme irritation and rage if I do not remove myself from those situations before it pushes me beyond my limit.  It can take me anywhere from a couple of hours to a couple of days to recover.  I know it's not normal, but neither is the PTSD that has caused it.  I just do what I gotta do, get out of the area, pop in some earplugs and ride it out.  To my knowledge, my husband and son have no idea how I am affected by these things and I'm not telling them, because it's my problem, not theirs.   

     Why am I telling anyone this, or writing about it?  Because I want to raise awareness for other people.  I had no idea that these kinds of side effects were part if the whole PTSD thing.  Now that I know about this one, I wonder what else there might be that I have been lucky enough to have avoided experiencing so far.  I refuse to research it, because I do not wish to give my subconscious any ideas. However, I think I am a much more compassionate person by having an awareness, and maybe if I share it with others, they might choose to be a little more kind toward others as a result.  You really never know what another person may be going through in his or her life, and I don't think it would kill any of us to just try to be a little more patient and less in a hurry to spout off whatever ugliness might be going on in our heads when we are dealing with people who may not meet our expectations.  

       So, there it is.  It's your choice how you choose to react to others.  You can be kind, you can be mean, you can avoid.  Whatever you choose, I hope you'll take the time to consider how your choice may impact those around you.  

One-Year Anniversary

     Well, I've taken yet another trip around the sun since I was deemed crazy and a threat to others by a bitch who's opinion isn't worth much (see posts from July 2013), and I gotta say, so far, so good.  I haven't managed to hurt anyone yet.  I have learned some things though.  

      For one thing, PTSD isn't the greatest disorder to have.  Most people only associate it with major, large-scale stuff, like war and tragedies like 9/11.  Contrary to popular belief, it can happen from a vast accumulation of little things.  Or from beng traumatized in untraditional ways.  Another thing is, you don't go around wearing a big old sign saying "I have PTSD, please stay out of my personal space."  It's manageable for me, though, and I know thousands of others are much worse off, so I'm not going to waste a lot of blog space complaining.  

     I've learned who I can count on and who I can't and I've learned to be ok both sorts of person, whether they be family, friends, former co-workers and acquaintances.  No one can be everything to everyone they know.  

     I've learned to trust only my family and my very best friends.  Nothing wrong with giving up my stupid urge to see most others through rose-colored glasses.  I'm not perfect, I certainly don't deserve to be seen that way, and therefore there is no need for me to give anyone else a free pass.  You want my trust, you gotta earn it.  And it ain't gonna come easy, if it ever comes at all.  Don't take it personally, though.  It's just my new policy.  

     I've learned a lot of new skills and hobbies.  Too many of those to mention. Some were for fun, some for survival, and others just to keep me busy and teach me to slow down during long periods of waiting.  None of them were goals I ever had.  Most of them I like to keep to myself because it really doesn't pay for others to really know all the capabilities I have.  I had to learn on my own, everyone else can do the same if the need should ever arise and they aren't too lazy and don't waste their time acting helpless.  It isn't that hard. 

     I've learned to wait out every low point, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute and even second-by-second at the very worst times.  Something better always comes along eventually. 

     I've learned my husband loves me and supports me way more than I could ever imagine or expect.  He didn't sign up to have a crazy wife who would decide to walk away from a stable 20+ year career.  He doesn't understand me, he usually doesn't know how to help, but he has hung in there.  I would never have asked that of him, and he knows it. But he just does it anyway. 

     I've learned to trust my gut instinct when it comes to first impressions.  It is right 99% of the time.  I really think that would be 100% of the time so far, but I probably still have some living to do, and there's always a chance I'll be wrong at some point.  

     I'm still learning to slow down, take my own sweet time and let the rest of the world either wait for me or go on without me.  Maybe I'll catch up, maybe I won't.  In the end, it's really not going to matter.