I post a lot about feelings. This blog is basically my online journal and showcases how alike you and I might be with our differences in beliefs. Yet, I forget to let you in on some of the extraordinary portions of my life – the details that are specific to being Hebrew.
What I find to be one of the more complicated matters of Hebrew life is that of clothing.
The command not to mix fibers leaves a modern gal mostly flummoxed when confronting the clothing aisles. Linen/wool blends, linen blends, wool blends, cotton/poly blends, linen/cotton/wool blends… it’s like looking for a sinew needle in a 500 gallon bin full of multi-fiber yarn.
I can tell you that I have to be in the mood to shop when it comes time to buy clothes. The time I spend poring tediously over every content label would unnerve me to no end if I were simply running an errand on a tight schedule.
Since I work in an office, I typically settle on man-made clothing blends, hoping for a label of 100% unnatural vs mixing the natural cloth fibers. Poly, nylon and spandex are my primary work-a-day options.
When I find the rare item that is 100% single fabric, I’m overjoyed.
The most recent find was on clearance as well. Label me the proud owner of 9 (yes, nine) new pairs of 100% cotton jeans, purchased for $6.67 per pair, plus shipping and taxes.
Come now, don’t hate – I cannot find jeans without that tidbit of spandex added to the cotton. When I do…
Call it prepping, call it hoarding – I call it practical. It will save me hours of search time over the next few years. With that practical mindset, I also varied the sizes, to account for minor fluctuations on the scale over time. I like my chocolate and I’m prone to the occasional baked goods binge. It’s not going to leave me pant-less.
But wait, there’s ‘More’.
While commanded, there is no penalty listed for this guideline. Should I find myself facing no options but mixed fibers, it would not be a death penalty. There is no slap on the wrist listed. Many of the guidelines in Torah have no retribution, contrary to what some might believe. I like to think that Almighty was keen to the possibility that there would be times when it would be difficult to live those ‘lesser’ commands.
Would I know? Certainly. There is that. I would know that I had tried, but not met my obligation. I’d have to live with that.
What a beautiful methodology.
Or is it Menopause?
It was a relief to discover that my red-eyed appearance was not an emotional symptom, but rather simply a case of dry eyes that I ignored to the point where my tissues were constantly inflamed. Menopause symptom, likely, and easily addressed by adding Omega 3 and using re-wetting or artificial tear drops as needed. As needed being more often than I remember to administer – but I’ll get there. Thankfully, my constant red eyelids are now just an unpleasant memory.
Granted, I’ve been more likely to reach a silent overwhelm of emotion these days, particularly when I’m in the presence of my children. It makes no sense to me, as these are some of the people with whom I draw the most comfort.
I am rendered nearly speechless, unable to converse comfortably, or sensibly. Some of it is attributed to tinnitus – there are only so many tones that I can focus on without losing part of what’s being heard. Partly, it’s that I don’t want to miss a thing, so I nearly miss everything as I try to focus on every conversation at once. Not as easy a fix – but I’ll be working to find my perfect hearing range so that I can focus to give full-on attention to the conversant in that range.
The part that I can’t change is that I’m full to the brim with love for these people, and am faced with a change in status, for which I have no practice.
Change is a constant in life, and I’ve done a damn fine job of handling change in the past (meaning that I didn’t go on a rampage, and I didn’t have a total meltdown). Change during my earlier years was like drinking water. I gulped it down and on to the next task I went.
About five years ago I noticed a shift, a grating of tectonic plates sort of shift. Suddenly, I found myself irritable with too much change or too many compounded changes. Sure, I could still function well, I could still move on to the next task, but my comfort zone had been impacted, and it unsettled me, irritated me.
Still in the irritable stage, change has been fairly constant, the compounded sort, but I’m functional.
A change in position not aptly prepared for – that sort of change is like a chasm that has opened up beneath me. I’m not prepared for it, but accept that I must either embrace and learn to roll with it, or tumble along grasping recklessly at strongholds along the way.
Mother-in-law, Step-mother-in-law, Grandma, Step-Grandma – these titles, these changes to my position, have caught me off-guard in comparison with my own head-in-the-clouds, prior-concocted expectations.
Let me broadcast with great joy: I have the absolute best of the pick when it comes to family. Our sons were extremely easy to raise, and they chose very well when they chose their mates. I have daughters-in-law whom I love dearly, and they are the perfect complement to our family. Our grandchildren are a pure delight, and their parents are doing a great job raising these youngsters.
My job should be easy, but I’m a perfectionist in the most annoying ways – obsessive about where my everyday use items are situated, persnickety about what I ingest, and particularly overly particular in creating my own expectations.
I want to match expectations that I set long ago. I want to take bits and pieces from others I’ve observed in these positions and meld them into some fantasy figure, based on very little reality. Who could possibly have factored in where I or my family would be in our lives when this particular stage of life arrived?
So I emote silly things based on my silly notions, and get myself all tizzy-frazzled for things that no one else can control.
Compound that with the fact that my mother-in-law died during my second year of marriage, creating a void where I could have learned a great deal. My mentor is absent, that’s my excuse…
So I’m forging ahead in uncharted territory, with great hope that I won’t injure any relationships, step on anyone’s feelings, or cause any great distress; yet keep in mind my own emotional health and well-being.
Oh, and did I mention I’m menopausal? 😉
The final shots from a trip to Scottsdale. Elements of man and nature, designs combined to evoke.