This Mom is Talking

With a heavy sigh, she began. Her fingertips poised over the keyboard, she began typing and deleting...  typing and deleting. "Nobody wants to read about this," she thought. "Nobody wants to talk about it."

But that's why it keeps happening. Because nobody talks about it. 

Her child had been suffering for a long time. Her teachers dismissed her timid cries for help. Her friends distanced themselves from her drama. Even her therapist gave her simplistic answers and ignored the symptoms of a more serious illness. And her mother, weary of the tears, never knew the magnitude of the pain she was in.

Eventually the pain was more than the child could bear. She cried out so loudly that those around her could not ignore her any longer. It was the bravest thing she had ever done and because she cried loudly enough, her mom took her to the hospital where doctors could take care of her. 

When that child was two, her leg was broken. Her mom took her to the hospital and the doctors took care of her. She came home with a toe-to-hip pink cast. Everyone signed the cast. Everyone said "Awww, poor baby. That must hurt!" 

Now the child is in the hospital and most everyone looks away. They don't know what to say. They promise to keep it hush-hush. 

But we can't keep it hush-hush. If more parents knew that there were so many children in pain and that they are not the only ones, then more parents would listen to their children's cries before it's too late. 

Because they have nowhere else to go, the children in pain find each other. They find each other on Instagram and other internet forums and they post pictures of their pain and they support each other in their pain and they feel like they're part of a community, but it's a dangerous community where children make plans to die. And many do. 

These children use shower time to cut themselves. They starve themselves. Their smiles are lies. They say they're okay, but they are not. They say they're tired when they mean they're in terrific pain. They want someone to find out but they don't want to tell because they worry about what people will think if they know. They don't tell because they don't want to be a burden and a worry to their parents. They don't tell because they don't even know what words to use.

So this child's mom is talking about it. She doesn't care if people don't want to hear. She doesn't care if it makes other people uncomfortable. Maybe one other mom will recognize her own child and hear her daughter's pitiful cry for help and she won't label it as teenage angst and drama. Maybe she'll look until she finds the scars and she'll get help before it's too late. 

And maybe people will start talking.

You can follow me on Twitter: @CeceliaHalbert

Be Kind

Sometimes we walk through the world. We interact; we weave our way between the lines, across the lines, intersecting with other human beings. We drive cars, buy groceries, and go to work…

But once in a while we stop moving and the world spins around us, blissfully unaware that we are still. 

A crisis happens - in an instant - and the world spins around us.

In these times we walk with great effort, one foot in front of the other. That, in itself, is a monumental task when the world is spinning so quickly around us. It is the best we can do, but the rest of the world, spinning so fast, does not understand. We hold up traffic and raise the ire of those who do not understand how painful it is, no matter how slowly, just to move.

We will spin with the world again, but in these moments, we are so thankful for those with compassion who take a moment to stop and notice that we are struggling.  

You can follow me on Twitter: @CeceliaHalbert

Boys and Girls

It doesn't matter if you're fifteen or fifty.

Observation:

Boy meets girl.

Boy and girl hit it off.

Boy feels the same strong feelings for the girl that she feels for him. 

Girl melts into boys arms.

Boy gets scared and runs away to escape the cause of his feelings.

Girl wonders what the hell she did wrong to cause the boy not to like her anymore.

Analysis:

Boy possibly enjoys the hunt more than the capture.

Girl enjoys the capture more than the hunt.

Boy develops feelings for girl and quickly envisions his loss of freedom, 

a never-ending 'to do' list, and an end to further hunting.

Boy cannot communicate any of this with girl because 

he doesn't want to hurt her feelings. 

(Ironically, by being distant, he already has.) 

Boy is a scaredy-cat.

Complicating factors:

If boy states up front that he is not interested in a committed relationship, 

girl will likely run away first, ending the hunt before it starts.

If girl states up front that she is not interested in a committed relationship, 

she's lying to attract boy. 

This will eventually bite girl in the butt.

Suggestion to girls:

Be yourself. He's going to find out who you are eventually anyway.

Also, girls, don't make the hunter the prey once he has retreated. Keep your dignity.

Suggestion to boys:

Boys, decide what you want - the hunt or the capture - and communicate this with girls. 

Also, if the game changes either way, just tell her. 

She would rather you just tell her.

Final thought:

It seems boy and girl are opposing one another. 

When they realize they're on the same side, they both win.

You can follow me on Twitter: @CeceliaHalbert

Chivalry

Chivalry:  chiv·al·ry [shiv-uhl-ree]: the sum of the ideal qualifications of a knight, including courtesy, generosity, valor, and dexterity in arms.

So, if a knight with ideal qualifications were to happen my way, I suppose that would mean he might open doors for me, put the toilet seat down, bring me gifts, and defend my honor. That his arms might be dexterous, I suppose, would a good thing as well.

It so happens such a knight has happened my way recently, exemplifying the definition of chivalry. In recent history, he is an anomaly. In these days of post-feminism, the unwritten, yet common rules of courtship have cast chivalry aside as unnecessary, perhaps unfair, or at the very least - a double-standard. Why should one person open a door for another who is perfectly capable of that action himself or herself? Why should one person and not another be responsible for lifting a toilet seat or returning it to the horizontal position?

A chivalrous knight, however, considers his actions unspoken expressions of compassion, kindness, affection - love. A lady returns his kindnesses by graciously accepting them in the spirit in which they were offered. By doing this, she is demonstrating not only her appreciation, but love. A knight recognizes this. Neither is giving nor receiving more than the other in this relationship.

Without these simple acts of kindness love gets lost, forgotten. A lady never takes them for granted. Each time she finds the seat to her throne replaced to its rightful position, her heart leaps a little with joy. Each time the door is opened, she looks into the face of her knight and her eyes soften with love. Each time she thanks him, his heart is full and their bond is strengthened.

So, I say to those rare men - the knights of the world, “Thank you.” 

And I caution the rest that the decline of chivalry should not go unnoticed for therein may lie the decline of civilization as a whole.


You can follow me on Twitter: @CeceliaHalbert

Some Things Never Change

About a million years ago I was in high school.  I had friends. Good friends - the geek club, you might say. The smart kids. The band geeks. The kids who drink RC Cola and play the home version of Password on Saturday nights. Although it was a co-ed club, we didn’t have boyfriends or girlfriends - even within our own circle of geekiness. Even we knew that we weren’t cool enough to date.

Sometime between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college something happened to me. My geekiness faded… or something happened.  I’m not sure what, really. My geek club friends went away to other schools. I was a new girl in a new environment where no one knew my checkered geeky past.

Enter Eric Bailey. I think current terminology would label him “hot.” In 1978 he was “a fox.” Not just ‘a’ fox - he was ‘the’ fox. God, he was cute.

I let Eric borrow my biology notes one day. He subsequently asked me if I’d go out for dinner with him.

“Oh,” I laughed nervously, “you don’t have to do that. I’m happy to let you use my notes.”

“Um…” he said, “No. I want to take you out.” He kissed me. I thought I was going to faint.

I was floored. Astonished. Eric Bailey asked me out. I went. The romance lasted all summer until he went away to a different school in the fall. Geek girl makes good.

Flash forward thirty-five years.

Tuesday night I walked into Morgan’s Pub and there, waiting for me, was the most handsome man I’ve laid eyes on in years. His eyes danced. His smile was brilliant. We talked. We laughed. And by the end of the night, he’d asked me what I was doing the next night. And he kissed me. Oh lord, he kissed me. He held me in his arms. He kissed my neck. I was breathless.

It was 1978 all over again.

But I am not going away to another school this time.

You can follow me on Twitter: @CeceliaHalbert