Marci Baun

The other night, I lay in bed gnashing my teeth. I was in a foul mood. Not sure why, I nit picked at my loved ones because, well, I was in that kind of mood. Every thing they did irritated me. I was tired. I’d spent the week working on quarterly reports and the next week of more quarterly reports loomed ahead. I was exhausted, but my mind spun and spun and spun. Shutting it off proved impossible.

As anger rolled through me, my mind suddenly shut it off. I love my husband and my daughter. Surely, I love them, don’t I? So, then, why am I nit picking at them? Why am I angry? The answer came suddenly: they weren’t the issue. What bothered me about them was actually things I didn’t like about myself. They acted as a mirror, reflecting me back at me. That extra weight (I’m not fat. I’m not fat. I’m not fat. LOL I know I’m not fat. I am beautiful just the way I am. Yes, yes, I am. LOL), that stubbornness, that desire to be in control–all of those traits were in me, and I didn’t like them. To love what I appeared to dislike in them meant I had to love that part of myself. The deeper I delved, the more I realized that the anger had nothing to do with them at all and everything to do with me. It was time to be gentle with me, to, if not love, at least like my reflection, to like me. From there, I could begin the process of loving myself.

That realization set me free.

Such a simple thing to realize with huge ramifications and something to remind myself every time I see something in someone else I don’t like. What I am seeing in them that irritates me is something I don’t like in myself, even if what I don’t like is really an illusion. (How often are truths we believe about ourself false? More frequently than we care to admit. )

So, the next time someone irritates/angers you, stop and ask yourself, “What trait are they exhibiting that I don’t like in me? Is this really true? Am I really that way? Or is it a false belief?”

Whatever the answer, instead of beating yourself up for it, be gentle and love that trait. With love, it will eventually disappear.

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Yesterday, I allowed myself to get sidetracked with a discussion I had with the school nurse where my daughter will attend school next year. (We have a difference of opinions…surprise!) I think what bothered me the most about the discussion was the nurse treating me as if I was uneducated because our opinions differed. You know, she’s the health expert, so I, the lowly layman, must bow down to her expertise. Sorry, but I’m not that type of gal. I do my own research as I have discovered it’s best to be educated and not just accept what someone tells me. Also, with that education, I am better prepared to deal with whatever issue it is.

So, yesterday, I went from mildly perturbed to “okay, she’s entitled to her opinion whether I agree with it or not” to “I honestly don’t care one way or the other any more given what’s happened.”

What happened? My daughter had another seizure last night. It was scary, but this being the third time I’ve had to deal with it personally (not just show up at the ER) and armed with more information on how to deal with it, we managed it well enough at home. We didn’t call 911. We did what we needed to do, and she remembers none of it today.

And, last night, as I attempted to sleep, I realized that I had wasted too much energy and time thinking about that discussion. Honestly, what is important is not what some stranger thinks. My first responsibility is to protect my child, my family. I’m not going to change her opinion nor will I continue to be angry whether she thinks I’m educated enough to make decisions about my family just because she disagrees with them. She’s entitled to her opinion, and it doesn’t matter any more. I’ve got better things to spend my time on…like my daughter, her health, my health, my husband, my friends, my publishing houses and whatever else brings me joy.

Life is too short to worry about what others think. Sometimes, it takes a scary moment to bring everything into perspective, to see the big picture.

Tags: Reflections, seizures
Posted in Reflections | 13 Comments »

I admit it. I am addicted to genealogy research. Perhaps it’s the combination of history and family (two of my favorite subjects–er, two among many). The last time I started researching the family tree, I found myself sucked into the black void of census research, ancestry.com, and internet searches. Not vanity, although I suppose that family tree is somewhat of a vanity search, but searches trying to find records of people who have been dead for, in some cases, centuries. It’s amazing what you can find. Did you know that the US census records date back to the late 1700s? But at that time, and until about 1820 (I think, don’t quote me on this as I don’t remember now), only the heads of the households (men, white men) had their names on the census records. The wife and kids were just noted as numbers (1 wife, 2 sons, 3 daughters, etc.) as were slaves. The feminist in me protested even as I reminded myself that women, children, and slaves were still considered chattel at that time.

It becomes a puzzle, and for someone like me who likes puzzles, and a challenge, it’s nearly impossible to resist. When I started the research last year, there were nights I stayed up until 2-3 am doing research. One link would lead to another and another. I’d look at the clock, it was 10 p.m., and then I’d look at the clock again and 4-5 hours had passed.

Truly, this is addictive.

My main purpose for the research was to gather enough proof to join DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution). There are benefits to being a member, and the group in my area is really nice. The problem is having the type of proof they want. The one side with an annotated bibliography to the ancestor who fought during the Revolution–there is some dispute as to whom this ancestor belongs. The other side has at least two instances of ancestors who fought on the side of the colonists. The problem: My relatives came over the Oregon Trail. Family Bibles were lost, other records were destroyed in an Oregon flood, and the wife of my ancestor descended from the revolutionary fighter is barely mentioned. I found an obituary in a newspaper from 1802 stating that she was married to the revolutionary fighter, but their children weren’t named. And the other one, we are missing records as well.

It’s frustrating and rewarding all at the same time. And, I suppose, when I start researching again, I’ll be sucked into the Charybdis and have to fight my way out just like I did the last time. LOL

So, what’s your addiction?

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