The Art of Processing.

This was written a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t really have good internet to be able to post it. So here it is now.

I don’t process very well anymore. I have a tendency to be rather busy when major things come up, so I push it to the back and ignore it as long as I’m busy, then when I’m done being busy, I pretend it doesn’t exist anymore.

This time however, I have had more time to process, and I’m not sure that I like it. Granted, things are a little more extreme right now. Last Friday I discovered that my uncle died suddenly. I had to focus on the things that I was in the midst of, as I had time constraints. I decided that I would process when I had time. And I was pretty sure that this was one of those things that I would have to process when there was time. It was not going to vanish or stop mattering. Then on Tuesday, before I’d really had any free time to process, I found out that my pony Gram died on Sunday. This was my first pony, my best friend since I was little, and I’ve had her for 16 years. I was asked once if I would sacrifice her in order to save the whole world, and my response was ‘heck no!’ She meant more to me than pretty much anything in my life. Even when she reached the point that I couldn’t ride her, and was spending a fortune on her feed, I still hoped that she would live forever. I hated the times that I wound up spending close to $100 at one time on feed for her, but at the same time, I was ok with it, because it meant that she was eating well enough that I needed to buy that much food for her.

Wednesday was a pretty free day, and my brain sort of forced me to process. I think it was too overwhelmed by everything. So I had to process both of them at the same time.

It was harder than I expected…I’ll never put my arms around Gram’s neck again, and kiss the little cowlick behind her ear. I’ll never share a joke at a family get-together with Darrell, knowing that we’re the only ones who have heard it, because the noise level is too high for the others to hear it. I’ll never have to help Gram stand up again when she gets stuck on the ice and can’t get her back legs under her. I don’t think I ever gave Darrell a hug, but that probably would have been incredibly awkward. Sometimes though, hugs aren’t really necessary.

Darrell was often here when I was learning to ride on Gram. Sometimes he rode with us, sometimes he helped us tack up, then waited for us with cold drinks at the end of a long hot day. After Gram was at my house, I’d sometimes ride Neita and Darrell’s horses, often using Darrell’s saddle with the uneven stirrups (always uneven because the saddle slid to the side like you wouldn’t imagine…). Neita always made fun of us about the uneven stirrups til we proved one day that we weren’t crazy people with uneven legs, and it was really an issue with the saddle. Silly, but something that drove all of us nuts for a while.  

 

Usually, when I am trying to process something like this, and I can’t sleep, I go out and spend some time with Gram. It’s a little tough to do that now. So I’m processing alone. I tried to go to sleep, and as soon as the lights were off, my brain started going, and the tears started, and sleep flew out the window. It is now 6 am, and I’ve not slept at all. I’m gonna see about getting a few minutes of sleep, and hope that the sunshine trying to peek over the horizon keeps the sad thoughts at bay. We’ll see how this thing goes.

 

Body Shaming

Positive body image, staying strong, being a 'real woman'; these are all very popular today. There are blogs and seminars and books and who knows what all designed to help women be proud of the way that they look. We're told to not let men dictate how we feel about ourselves. We need to be happy and love our bodies even when we don't look like the models in the catalogues, because not a single model is real, they're all photoshopped. Bikini bridges aren't real, thigh gaps aren't real; THESE ARE NOT REAL WOMEN.
But therein lies a problem just as dangerous as insulting fat people. Telling skinny people that they are not real women. I saw a buzzfeed post the other day that was a collection of boho dresses. Yes, all of them were on thin girls. Not even exceptionally thin. Pretty average actually. But then you got down to the comments, and they were full of terrible things.
One girl said the people in the photos made her feel morbidly obese. Perhaps they did. That isn't their fault though. Slender people should not feel that they have to gain weight just to make large people more comfortable. Your body is the only one that is your business. However, after her comment, the attacks began. Women were saying that the models looked like they were wrapped in bedsheets (granted, some of them did... it's boho fashion... it had nothing to do with the models' bodies). The commenters said things like this:

"Couldv'e been truthful and just called this '36 Bohemian Dresses For Painfully Thin Giraffe-Type Women'. Meh...

"I love those dresses Ash & on a 'real' size woman, they'd look even more amazing xxx"

"I know. Like somebody else said about it: A lot of the girls just look like they're wrapped in bed sheets. A few curves wouldn't go amiss."

 

There were debates going off of these comments and others which were similar. When others called them out on body shaming, they said that there was no body shaming done, and basically claimed that they were the victims of body shaming because of the photos, but what they were saying about slender girls was nothing wrong.

Women are some of the worst people for body shaming. We always warn against the body shaming that men will do, but men are not nearly so harsh as women when it comes to body image. And there's such a huge problem with negativity toward overweight people that now we cannot touch that with a ten foot pole, but it is still perfectly acceptable to say anything one wants to a thin person.

There has been a lot going around about this whole bikini bridge thing, saying that women who have that have bad body images and are trying too hard. But that's not true. I have one (I was considering posting a photo, but decided that I didn't want my hips and my bikini on the internet...), but I've not tried for it. In fact, at the moment, I'm pretty out of shape. I've not been able to do much exercise in the heat here. But it's just the way I'm built. And I don't like reading websites that say that I am disgusting/anorexic/boyish because of natural features which I have no control over. I mean, I suppose I could get morbidly obese to make myself 'normal', but I don't want to. 
And really, if I'm going to be honest with you, I have often had the problem of thinking I'm fat. I've been told that by people, and also just put those words on myself (I was really a little twig when I was younger...). it's something I'm getting over, mostly through just taking the decision that it doesn't matter what someone says about my body. There was this one guy who was constantly making a big deal about any features of mine he thought were out of the norm. And it really bothered me. Later, he'd say he wasn't necessarily saying it as a bad thing, but was just saying things, and I should already know that I'm beautiful, blah, blah, blah. But like most people, what stuck with me were his negative words. They really hurt me, and I was quite sensitive about my body. Now I'm not so much. I like myself the way I am, and I see myself as beautiful, no matter what some idiot says. And I'm not just saying that. I honestly think it. I mean, right now, my biggest issue is that my hair is growing out too fast, so I have to decide if I'm gonna get it cut here or wait and just let it grow :~). But I don't think it looks bad. It's just growing faster than I expected. Every once in a while, I tell my Mom while we're skyping that I am sexy. She usually stops talking to me, or changes the subject, because it makes her feel weird. But I just say it because it amuses me.
I hope to one day have a daughter (or a couple...), and there's a good chance they'll get the tall thin genes. I certainly hope that they can be happy with their bodies. And confident no matter what. I love wearing skinny jeans, but I often don't, because of the comments I get. I like to wear them with 4 inch stiletto heels, and I get comments about, "Why are you so skinny?" "You shouldn't wear shoes like that... you're already way too tall." But guess what... this is the body God gave me, and it serves my purposes nicely. Except for doing a crappy job of handling heat... but that's another thing entirely.
So whether you are a young girl, or an adult, most if not all of us have body issues. Don't take your issues out on others. See the beauty, and compliment that, or keep your mouth shut. Take care though, that your 'compliments' aren't veiled insults. Innocent things always have a chance of being misunderstood, but be sure yourself that your motives are good, and it isn't hidden body shaming. Because God made them, and he made you, and as my AWANA leader always said, "God doesn't make junk."

 

 

The Idiocy of Flight

Contemplate for a moment how goofy it is that we climb into metal cylinders to fly through the air in hurtling death traps. I’m actually in such a death trap at the moment. One with a lot of turbulence… not exactly the place where I’d advise thinking of such things…

Anyway, people are a very strange species. We come up with some weird ideas. I can’t decide sometimes if we’re stupid or clever. Or perhaps a mix of the two. There’s an episode of Doctor Who where the Doctor says that in 900 years (pretty sure that’s the number he uses), he’s never met anyone who is unimportant.

Sometimes I think about how God sees us the same way. Except that he’s been watching is for a lot more than 900 years, and he’s a lot more familiar with us (not to mention the fact that he’s real…). And he would not say that a single person is unimportant, whether it’s an inventor who makes things that others couldn’t dream of, or the person who assembles those inventions. Or the people above, below, or in between those two. Sometimes I look at myself and what I’m doing, and I compare myself to others. Occasionally I say that I’m doing better than someone else. At other times (far more often), I say that I’m not doing anywhere near enough, and I need to be more like this one, or that one. And then I realize that God is pleased with me. He’s pleased with the things that I am doing, he is pleased with who I am, and with my desire to serve him. And really, I believe that he is pleased with the joy that I take in his creation, and what he is doing in the world.

God doesn’t think that I am less important than those crazies who came up with the idea of flinging people through the sky in metal cylinders (yeah, see how technically aware I am of such things…?). And he also doesn’t consider me less important than great evangelists or missionaries.

People are amazing. All so different, all so unique. And each one with something different to offer the world. Not a single one ordinary. Not a single one deserving of another judging them and finding them wanting. God found each of us so special that he gave his Son to save us. If he felt that way about us, how do we get by determining who is important, and who is not? It’s not really our place, and though I am guilty of being judgmental, it’s something that I am working on. I want to see people in the way that God does.

Also, with all of these short flights I’m doing, there has been a LOT of turbulence, so I’m really hoping that the pilots don’t give people reason to judge them…

Real Love

My parents are pretty much the best. I think I’ve mentioned things along these lines a few times, but it’s true.
See, most people my age, if they had a pony as a child, have no idea what ended up happening to their pony. It was sold when they lost interest/outgrew it/went to school/left the country. My pony on the other hand, came to the point where I’m not sure if she would have been sold even if I decided I wanted to sell her. My Mom actually told me once that even if I decided I wasn’t interested in keeping Gram, they would care for her until her dying day, because she deserved it.
And she did. Well, both shes did. Gram definitely deserved it. I don’t know how many amazing hours I spent with that mare (of course, there were plenty of irritated hours as well :~), how many poems and stories I composed while on her back, how many tears I cried into her mane, how many times I poured my heart out to her about a million different things, good and bad. And Mom took care of Gram like she said she would. Well, she and Dad did. Until her dying day. Which came way too soon, even for a pony in her 40s (we have no way of knowing her actual age).
Multiple feedings a day so she wouldn’t choke, having the vet out when she did choke, taking care to have her out with the others, but not so much that she’d eat enough grass and hay to choke. It has been a big task to take care of Gram these past few years. I did it when I was home, but there have been a lot of times that I’ve not been home, and I’ve always took comfort in the fact that Gram was in good hands, getting wonderful care. And at least during the summer, Mom would even go out sometimes to give Gram a hug from me.

I just received an email telling me that Gram died a few days ago. Normally I would be annoyed that such a thing was not told to me immediately, but I understand the hesitation and the desire to say it at the right time.

I read the email, and before I finished, I was crying (fortunately had already moved to another room, away from other people…) and shaking. A little bit of shock going on there, even though I’ve “prepared” myself for her death about 20 times over the last few years. Part of the email though, spoke of my parents sitting with Gram, petting her and crying over her as she was put to sleep. And they made the choice to have her put down only when it was absolutely the only option available. Lots of parents stuck with caring for a special needs pony would have had her put down a long time ago, instead of helping her to pull through each time. I know for sure that there wasn’t a way this time for her to pull through, because there’s no way she would be dead if there was another choice. My Dad told me that he doesn’t think he’s ever cried more over any pet than he did over Gram. Of course, part of that was because he knew how I’d react.
The basic point of this is that, though I am devastated/heartbroken/insert proper term here, I am thankful that she wasn’t alone when she came to the end. And even though I couldn’t be with her, I’m glad that she had people there who truly cared about her, and I’d even say people who genuinely loved her.

Favourites of the Week 3/23-3/29

 

This dog hung over the railing of the apartment building he was in much of the morning as we ate breakfast and chatted across the way from him. He looks like he's dreaming of getting out and running, but as he's in the middle of the city, surrounded by huge buildings, I doubt that will be a possibility for him. Sad to see such a big dog cooped up. But he looked so dignified that I loved how the photo turned out. 

 

While I was wandering around, I found this little indoor market. Several ladies tried to speak with me, and were disappointed to find that I did not speak Telugu. This lady though, called me back, and asked me to take her picture. All of the others around were laughing while watching this happen. 

 

Glanced up at just the right time to see this lizard chilling in an Airtel sign. There was a little rip in the canvas of the sign, and the lizard had found itself a good hiding place. Or so it thought

 

 

I was so excited to finally get this picture! I've seen camels about 4 times since coming to Hyd, but always as we were driving past too quickly to get the photo. This time, however, I saw them soon enough to get my camera out. I was a little worried that cars were going to get in the way as I snapped the picture, but I was very happy to see how it turned out.

A little game of hide and seek. The babies seemed like they were getting a little nervous about all of the people, but this one was also a little curious. It just needed some protection from Mom to be brave. 

I watched this guy drink for quite a while. For some reason, it was fascinating. He had his nose underwater for a long time...and you could see the gulps of water going up his throat, similar to watching a horse drink.

In spite of the heat, these two couldn't stop playing for long. They'd separate and lie down for a time, then one would stand up and start stalking slowly toward the other. When he got within about 20 feet, he'd run and jump. They'd spend a little time wrestling, then go lay down for a few minutes until it all began again.

During one of the resting times. Still alert though, waiting for the next attack.



Family portrait. The two that were not in the water were trying to figure out how to get into the water without jumping off the scary bank. The one in the water wanted to get out. I think her paws were turning to prunes. Mom was content where she was, focusing on her babies, and ignoring all the humans watching them.

The sentry and the eagle. I didn't even see the eagle as I was taking the picture. I was taking a picture of the deer (gazelle?). He had been standing there for a long time, staring into the distance, watching for danger to the herd. Considering they were in a pen in the zoo, I think they were pretty safe, but he still took his job seriously.

This little guy landed on me while I was taking pictures of the elephants. Spiders have such sweet faces. No, I'm not completely mad.

I just like this picture. I wonder what they were staring at.

Most of the animals seemed a little nervous about the people watching them, but this one seemed very interested. He was in the moat, cooling off, and when he saw us watching, he came over to see what was up.