Heartbreak & Uncertainty.

It has been a while since I have posted.  To be frank, I haven’t had any motivation to do anything…Especially writing.  I think about writing a lot, but I know I’ll just stare at the blank page looking at that annoying curser just blinking.  It just taunts me that time is not stopping,  reminding me that I don’t have the words, discouraging me that I shouldn’t attempt the feat of just writing.  Counting the words like counting the seconds the moment I clock into work.

2018 was  supposed to be a year of positive changes and vibes, it turned out to be a nightmare and we still have half of November and December to go.  I just hope and pray the remaining month and a half of this year flies, because I am over it.  I was over it in January.

In January, I lost my grandfather, my Tata. It amazes me, he lived a healthy long life that lasted for  89 years.  Lived a full life, a life filled with admiration, dignity, and respect.  Always watched what he ate, lived an active life; he only stopped taking his daily walks only a few months before he passed.  Like many men his age, he was a stubborn man who didn’t let much stop him; I was always in awe of his work ethic – even in retirement, when he kept himself busy.  So, imagine my anger when he was diagnosed with late stage Pancreatic Cancer, which took him from us exactly one week later after his diagnosis.   I miss his wisdom and his stories that he was always willing and proudly willing to share.  I especially miss our dinners at Denny’s, they may not have the best food, but his company is what I craved, and I will always be grateful with that time with him.

As the year progressed, we lost a four other family members.  Watching my grandfather taking his last breath on that winter afternoon was heartbreaking; then summer arrived and July will never be the same.  You often hear people describe a young adult as, “he/she is a good kid”, you hear those words so many times that it just comes across as vague.  Not that those words is meaningless or empty, it’s just ambiguous; and very few people have the audacity to ask, “how is he/she a good kid”?  We just politely respond with, “oh, yeah.  That’s good”.  My 16 year old cousin was not just a good kid, he was a great kid, and he deserves for people to know why he was a great.  He was fiercely yet sweetly devoted to his family, especially his mom; their connection was remarkable.  He was a hard worker, who enjoyed working with his dad.  But the reason he was a great kid, was because he had a generous and good heart:  One day him and his family where going to get pizza, now he had been looking forward to outing all day and was ready to get his grub on with his family, along with having a bit of fun of playing games.  They lived close to my grandfather and passed his house on the way and they saw my grandfather working on his yard.  Without hesitation, he told his mom to let him out of the car, so he can help Tata.  His mom asked him if he was sure.  Again without hesitation, he told his mom, yes, I want to help Tata, you can bring me back some pizza.  Like I said, he was a great kid.   Imagine the heartbreak when he was tragically taken away from us from an accident and watching a mother grieving for a child; it wasn’t just heartbreaking, it was shattering.

These deaths have taken a toll on my family and I.  I would like to say that these loses have made me appreciate life more and has change my perspective, but in all honesty, it has made everything so uncertain.  Unfortunately, I’m not much of a conversationalist, so counseling is not easy for me, I hate feeling exposed.

I’m just taking it one day at a time for the remaining days of 2018.

Living For Paydays and Fridays.

Seems like every Friday, I think about finding a new job and I say I’m going to work on my resume or update my LinkedIn over the weekend; then suddenly it’s already Monday morning and my alarm is going off.  I get up and start making myself breakfast – I actually make myself a good breakfast, no cereal or protein shakes, like solid food – and I as I am sitting at the kitchen table eating my half ass gourmet breakfast, I realize my motivation is at a deficiency level.   You always hear adulting is hard:  It really is!  And I’m not talking about just working to pay the mortgage or rent, utilities, groceries, etc.  The emotions of being an adult is insane and I think of the Albert Einstein quote, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”.  Some may describe the grown up, endless routine of going to work and going home as security, and there is nothing wrong with that mentality.  The world revolves around routine.  Some may argue routine prevents us from living our lives to the fullest, but everyone has a different view of how to live life to the fullest.  However you all look at it, it’s all good as long as you personally are content.

But I on the other hand, am going insane.  And yet motivation takes so much energy.  I’m not lazy, but I fight with depression at times and so far depression is kicking my ass.  My mind is constantly turning, so much that I don’t even know what I’m thinking about anymore.  Numb. That is what I am becoming, numb.  My days are so redundant, I can make do with my eyes closed.   My routine is becoming a blur; for a while now my days just feel like one loooong day.

I don’t know.  I’m sorry if this post just seems like nonsense and I stepped away from the RSS subject this time.  I just need to vent sometimes.

I Bet You Feel Real Good About Yourself.

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People can be ignorant and rude to each other; now add the fact you are short, then they can be just straight up condescending and dismissive.  As much as I love to give the benefit the doubt with every one, sometimes my doubt in people is just accurate.  You always see people talk or post on social media encouraging everyone – especially women – to stand up for themselves and much respect for people who don’t take sh*t from anyone, but the moment you actually put those words into action, then you are automatically a bad person.

About a year ago, I was at the movies standing in line in the concession stand when a woman either didn’t see me or just thought I was a kid, when and cut me in line.  In a civilized manner I told her, “Ma’am, I’m sorry but I’m next in line, you must have not saw me”, she did not say anything and just maneuvered behind me.  After a few moments, she said under her breath and behind my back, “you must feel real good about yourself”.  I was caught off guard because I didn’t think I said anything to offend her and I was not rude.  What I did was bruised her ego a bit, because a really short person, a person they typically look down upon, stood up for themselves and she did not like the feeling.  If I were an average height women she would have said sorry right away, move behind me, and let it go, but since my height is of a child, I am not allowed to defend myself against “normal” people.  I am not worthy of respect and being treated the same as any body else.  To an ignorant person like her, anyone who looks like me, just needs keep quiet and allow for everyone else to walk all over us and to not be treated fairly.  We should be last in line, we should be the last to speak, and God forbid we make them feel bad for not conforming to their expectations.

I just acted like I didn’t hear her and moved on, because I HAVE TO BE THE BIGGER PERSON and she sure as hell didn’t deserve to see me upset.  I refused to give her – anyone for that matter – such satisfaction.

There is certainly a possibility she would have said that comment to anybody, but it is much easier for cowards to pick on the little guy and even easier to talk behind people’s backs.  I would have been impressed if she would have to said it to my face, looking at me in the eyes; but like I have repeatedly said, I was not worthy of such an interaction.

Sometimes, I do wish I would have said something, because yes, I did allow for her to get away with saying such hurtful words, but I did not allow myself to be overlooked.  Since then I refuse condescending behavior from anyone, but I also know my limits.   That incident did not deter me continuing to stand up for myself; no one should tolerate such ignorant and sometimes hateful behavior.  It’s truly disheartening how so many treat people of short stature with such disdain and disrespect, and even more disturbing, is how ignorance is so rapid and contagious.

And yes, ma’am I DO FEEL GOOD ABOUT MYSELF.

You Heard Russell Stover Syndrome.

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Seriously, if I was given a centimeter of height for every time a person thought I said I have Russell Stover Syndrome instead of Russell Silver Syndrome, I would literally be able to look over bathroom stalls – not that I ever would, that’s creepy.   If you don’t know, Russell Stover is overpriced, mediocre chocolate sold in the United States – no offense, if you’re a fan.  Ironically though, Russell Stover teamed up with Graham Ice Cream Company to sell Eskimo Pies – thank you Wikipedia!  Eskimos are known for being diminutive.

I take this constant misunderstanding as people – most – just love sweets and I can’t speak for everyone, but I love food so much, that I myself tend to hear edible words – i.e. nacho instead of macho, steak instead of break.  So, I can’t really get too upset, but it can get incredibly annoying, because I have had this particular conversation way too often.  I get it, average height people are curious on why some people are too short or too tall.   More frustrating, I can’t even accuse the person I am speaking with are being inconsiderate and not listening.    THEY LITERALLY LOOK AT ME IN THE FACE AND ASK, “SO, WHY ARE YOU SO SHORT” AND CONTINUE TO KEEP EYE CONTACT AS I TELL THEM THE ANSWER.

Here is how is typically goes down and I see it coming right before I even utter the words:  Russell. Silver. Syndrome.   It starts with a perplexed look on their faces, then a few seconds of silence, then in a semi-high pitched voice, they inquisitively say , “Russell Stover Syndrome”?! It takes all my 4’6″ (1.3716 m) strength to not roll my eyes or reveal any annoyance with a friendly poker face.  I remain cordial and respond with a fake laugh and correct their moronic response.

It feels like I have dealt with this question and response conversation since I started constructing sentences.  I should start carrying around little boxes of Russell Stover candies and whoever asks me why I’m so short and actually responds with, “did you say Russell Silver”, I will present them with a sweet prize and a sincere smile.

Mom: A Title Just Above a Queen.

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When I was born, they whisked me away immediately after my mom gave birth to me, she did not experience the quintessential moment of holding her first baby, but upon bringing me home a month after I was born…She has never let me go since.

I will forever be grateful for my mom for teaching her RSS child to be strong, and independent, yet not be too proud to ask for help.  Her constant tough love – i.e. you better grab a chair and do the dishes  – when I was a kid, was one of her many lessons and reminders that being short is just an obstacle not an excuse.

As her first born, it had to be such a frightening experience to have a child with RSS; my mom rose to the occasion with love, strength, and bravery that can only be described as the unconditional love of a mother .

To all the mother’s of RSS children: I hope you all had a wonderful Mother’s Day.  Thank you for your love, strength, and bravery.