A Ride Called “Disease”

A group of teenagers push wildly through the crowd and down the fair midway. At the tail end of the group, a reluctant girl is holding the hand of a boy sporting a cheesy grin. “Come on,” he pleads as he pulls her hand in the direction of the rides.

“I really don’t want to,” she insists as her steps narrow and her pace slows. Both eventually stop to talk and after a pathetic glance from the boy, she relaxes her shoulders in submission and follows. He spots his friends rough housing in front of the ferris wheel. She protest, “No, I don’t like those things and this one doesn’t look safe.”

“Awww, it’s fine,” he coaxes. She could sense the doubt in his voice.

“Come on!!” the group taunts as she sides her way into line. The ride is old, very old. It has been a right of passage for many other teens. The long held tradition has included rocking, screaming, and bouncing the rickety ride as if to dare it to crumble.

“Don’t move our seat,” she whispered abruptly as they loaded.

“Sure,” he assured as he sheepishly grinned to his buddy in the next seat. Not long after they loaded, the rowdy group began screaming and yelling but they remained still until the last seat was loaded. None took the chance of being kicked of the ride prematurely. After the old ride was started and at full speed, the chaos started. Violent shaking, bouncing, and attempts to stand up over the seat bar began. The operator began shouting but they continued on. The girl held tight to her boyfriend’s arm but his assurance to remain still did not last. He began flipping the seat forward as hard as he could and she began to scream in fear.

“Let me off, I want off now!” she demanded as she drew as far from him as she possibly could. Her trust had been broken.

“We’re just having some fun,” he said as the ride came to an abrupt stop. The operator was now cursing as he began unloading the riders. An argument between the girl and her boyfriend ensued. He offered a half hearted apology only after she began to cry. His remorse lasted until he was reunuted with his group of friends at the base of the ride. Then he sneered and thanked her for embarrassing him in front of his friends. He turned away abruptly and lead the group down the fairway, the girl crying while scurrying behind. In confusion, her focus now became how she could make it up to him.

***

I can definately relate to this story as I was that confused teenage girl years ago. Thank goodness I can laugh about it now and I am thankful that I have matured but that isn’t the point I am trying to make.

Instead this story is quite the apologue of the last few months of my life. A few months ago, I reluctanly stepped onto a rusty, old ferris wheel. It’s name was “Disease”. Despite it’s unsafe appearance, I convinced myself that I would be okay with “Disease”. Soon I had a passenger and it’s name was fear. I thought I had made peace with “Disease” and I wondered why fear had joined me.

“It’s okay, sit with me,” fear assured, “I’m a friend.”

“Disease” creaked and groaned but I didn’t get too nervous. I was familiar with the ride and I knew a few of the other reluctant riders. Then when the chaos broke out, I pulled myself closer to fear. “That’s right,” fear hissed as it violently began flipping my seat forward. I held tight to fear as the violent forward motion made me feel as if I were going to fall from my seat. Yet, I felt no comfort and my fears increased tenfold. The high and low of the ride now felt like they were coming too quickly. I was now frozen and with fear. I wanted off the ride, now! 

I began devising my own plan to escape. In the meantime, I tried to find some other way to brace myself safely into the seat. I couldn’t see anything, nor could I move. Something was sabotaging my safety. It was the fear still strapped in beside me. Not only  strapped in, but I was still locking arms with it. I had put all my trust in fear only to be deceived. I felt as betrayed as the girl in my story, but I knew I had to let it go. It was only when I let go that I could clearly see; and when I looked, I saw my son. He was riding alone in another seat. I had forgot about him.

Yet, there he sat looking out alone beyond “Disease”. I was staring at him while he began to make his way to the top. As he approached the top, he began to clap, and yell “Woo hoo!” He was happy and I was puzzled.  He wasn’t focused on the ride, he was focused on the view. He could certainly see the sky, the stars, the entire world from his vantage point.

For the first time, I slowly sat back and decided to try to see “Disease” as my son saw it. As I reached the top as he did shortly before, I was amazed of the view “Disease” gave me. I could see life from a vantage point few others could experience. Once I released fear, I was able to appreciate the view. Without fear, every movemment no longer made me nervous. I remained focused with my head held high. As I looked  I finally “got it” and I won’t soon forget what my little boy taught me about “Disease”. It can change you by fear or change your perspective. Fear wants to destroy and I’d much rather follow his example and keep living despite of fear.

Unlike the example in my story, my happiness didn’t have to be defined by who sat closest to me. My focus needed to be on anything that helped me break free from my own immaturity of the situation. Isn’t it amazing how my little boy helped change my heart and lead by example? “Woo hoo!”

*d*

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The Dogged Question

Let me preface this by saying that I love animals and have grown up with a variety of furry friends from pet mice all the way up to my beloved late Appaloosa horse. Children are also acceptable but I am more likely to hang out with your kid if he’s well-behaved. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request. I’m not an expert on all these creatures, but time and experience has given me a well-rounded knowledge.

That being said, last week I was dog-sitting for a friend. She’s a tiny black Pomeranian—the dog, not my friend—with a summer haircut the neighborhood kids would definitely make fun of if she were people. The dog has always been overjoyed and clingy with me when I visit my friend so we thought she’d be fine coming to spend a few days with her Aunt ~L~. And she was. I mean, sure she missed her mom, but she mellowed out pretty quickly and was a joy to have. Except for that pesky being-a-dog part.

Does this haircut make my head look huge?
Does this haircut make my head look huge?

Dogs are needy and very reliant on their people. I know this, and yet, I’m still amazed by the level of dependence. Don’t misunderstand me! Dogs are great! They’re fiercely loyal and forgiving and make great friends. But I’m just not the kind of person who likes adding more time consumption to my day. That’s why I have cats. They’re easy because most of the time, they could care less if I exist or not. I could be on fire and they wouldn’t look away from the sliding glass door to the patio.

Having basically a furry, adorable toddler in the house made me think about something that often bothers me, sometimes to an eye roll, sometimes to a teeth grinding anger.
Though I’m not a dog person, that doesn’t mean I haven’t had years of experience with family pets and the pets of friends. The same goes with kids. In fact, I find myself equating having a dog with having a small child, especially if it’s a puppy. And this brings me to my point. Dogs and kids are great, but they’re most likely NOT for me.

I’ll be 34 in August. I married Husband a little over two years ago. When we got together, the obnoxious question on everyone’s lips was: “When are you gonna get married?” Once we were engaged, it evolved into: “Have you picked a date yet?” And once I marched down that aisle and Flashmobbed my reception hall (seriously, we did, and it was AWEsome), the question became down right personal: “When are you going to have kids?”

Since I was probably 11 or 12, I’ve felt like I never wanted to have kids. Until I got married, I was only slightly aware that all of humanity was expecting me to want to. That seems a little messed up to me. First, I find everyone’s preoccupation with both my vagina’s business and my uterus’s functionality kind of disgusting. And it takes a lot to gross me out. Ask *d*. But if you think about someone asking you when you plan to have children, you realize what they’re really asking is: “When will you and your husband be having sex in order to make a baby?” See? I could get far more descriptive, as I’ve thought about this quite a bit, but I won’t. Second, it makes me angry when someone hears my answer: “I don’t want kids,” and insists that I do, in fact want them. That it’ll be different when it’s your own kid. I am under no delusions that it won’t be different. Of course it will. I’m not a mother but I’m also not an IDIOT. What really makes my jaw clench (and causes heavy use of italics in my blogs) is the idea that other people feel like they know what I want and insinuate that they also know my body, mentality, and personal preferences better than I do. STOP. IT.

I know myself very well. That’s the beauty of waiting to get married until after I turned 30. I’ve had those 30 + years to get to know just what I can and can’t stand, what I like to do, and where I want to go. The decision to remain child-free is not something I take lightly. In fact, I still mull it over at least weekly. It’s like I’m checking my stats and seeing if this is the week I will change my mind (SPOILER ALERT: IT ISN’T). But I do think about it. I don’t think about it because I’m hounded by so many people (even those close to me who should know better), but because there is part of me that would like to have someone to teach all the things I’ve learned on this speed-bump riddled road of life. I don’t doubt my capabilities to love unconditionally and sacrifice as a mother should. But I also understand that I like the way my life is and that I am selfish and wish to stay that way. At least when it comes to devoting time to a kid. Hell, I don’t even want a dog. I’m not going to do what everyone expects when I know it’s not right for me.

If my plan changes in the near future (‘cause let’s face it, it would have to happen soon since I ain’t getting’ any younger), it will have nothing to do with the harping and nagging of others who harp and nag even though it’s not their bodies or lives that will be altered.

How offended would you be if you had children and I told you shouldn’t?

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Perspective could save us all…

~L~