Impending Doom

        Impending doom crept into my being when I was very young. The fact is, probably when I was born and as I grew bigger, it grew worse all the way into adulthood.  It has caused a terrific amount of pain and I’ve lost many hours to it. I’ve said numerous times, this has got to stop but the demon did not stop.

It came from my mother, who was born to an unwed woman in 1908 and was raised in several foster homes. Never knowing her mother or father she searched for years trying to locate them and the parental love she never got.

Her tragedy was my reward and my terrible demon.

My reward?  My Mothers lack of parents helped her become a loving mother. The demon was that my mother was a control freak.

She always feared something bad had happened if I were just minutes late.She had to control absolutely everything.

As a result, all of my life, I also feared something bad had happened to my kids if I didn’t hear from them regularly.

That fear would cause worry and my imagination would run always to the negative, to the worst happenings and then I would obsess on that fear.

Impending doom stole hours of peace and replaced that with worry. I recall one time my mother was supposed to be home at a certain time and she didn’t show up. I was probably 10 years old at the time.

When she came home, it seemed like she was an hour late when in reality it was probably twenty minutes. I freaked out and started yelling and crying. I told her all the bad things I had been thinking and imagined and she told me not to worry because she was home, safe and sound. I can’t recall if she apologized or if my first session with impending doom caused her to think about her problem with the gloom of doom or not. The impending doom didn’t end. . .it grew.

I joined the army in an effort to get away from the doom. I didn’t get away from it. I married and was father to three children. The doom grew stronger and seemed to affect my daughter most of all, probably because I raised her from the time she was six years-old.

I struggle with the feeling, the belief, that life is always going to end in doom until I realize that only I can change that.

I, with the help of God.

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 Jerry writes on personal growth, happiness and life, including lowering stress in the work world. His book “Life is a Joke and God Wrote it” can be ordered through www.jerrystanecki.com

©Stanecki 2018

If you enjoy reading this blog please tell your friends and everybody else about this blog.

Thanks, Jerry

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The Secret: Enjoy the journey and have faith

            “I feel sorry for people who can’t cry,” Verdie  McGee said over the phone from 800 miles away. “I really think crying makes you live longer.”

            Verdie is living proof.  She’s one of the best criers I know, and I’ve known her 35 years.

            Verdie Dempsey McGee, my former mother-in-law, is  telling me how she is struggling with the demons of (feeling) down.

            “ I thought I was over with those feelings, but every time I think of mother and daddy, I get sad. I woke up this morning and said I wasn’t  gonna’ cry. . .but I did. I laid there and had a big cry.”

            Verdie sounded like she might cry right then.

            “I’ll bet your felt better after,” I said.

            “I did.”

            The conversation switched to talk of what wonderful experiences Verdie’s life has brought. She talked of childhood in the mountains of North Georgia, when the Buttermilk Road was just a dirt passage that wagons and horses rumbled over. She told me of the time she first saw her first automobile— probably from one of “them” big cities nearby like, Cedartown or Rome, Georgia. And the time, on a bright sunny day, she stood there with her brothers and sisters as an “aeroplane” landed right there in front of them in the cotton fields. The pilot offering $2 rides to anyone brave and adventurous to go.

            Verdie talked of her teen years and Saturday night dances in Cave Spring, Ga., still a tiny town today. We talked of the days before radio and television and the marvel of those inventions that brought glorious sound and sight.

             She reminisced with stories of honeysuckle vines and springtime, of whippoorwills calling at night and thoughts of the great country singer Hank William’s being, “so lonesome he could cry.”

            She’s weathered tornadoes and the creek arisin’ and watched men fight world wars and men walk on the moon. In her lifetime, she’s seen more U.S.  President then she have fingers.

            It’s been rich, exciting life for this woman who still lives on the Buttermilk Road in the shadow of bald mountain and Pea Ridge.

            Amazingly, most of  Verdie’s  brothers and sisters are still alive, still livin’ within a stones throw—which is pretty close, ‘cause Verdie ain’t pitchin so hard anymore.

            One of the bad times in Verdie’s life was when doctors told her she had six months  “at best” to live. Lets see—that was about three years ago.  We talked about that prediction recently. “The doctor who told you that is probably dead, ” I said, and Verdie laughed hard.

            “I’ll be there for your 90th birthday and we’ll dance,” I told her.

             But, plans change, and I couldn’t make it to the Buttermilk Road.  I felt poorly about not making the celebration.  A big party was planned.

            When I called to say I’d be down in a few weeks Verdie was sleeping. Carolyn, my former wife, said she’d told her mom I couldn’t make it.

            “Mother says anytime you want to come is fine with her— if she is living.”

            That sounds like Verdie.

            Actually, it wouldn’t have done any good if I could have gone to Georgia because Verdie’s not there. She and Carolyn jumped in the car and drove 700 miles to Fort Lauderdale to visit my daughter Annie, sit by the sea and celebrate Verdie’s 90th birthday.

            Happy Birthday Verdie.*

*Editors note: This is a column Jerry wrote in 1999. Verdie McGee passed at age 91.

*

©Stanecki 2018

If you enjoy reading this blog please tell your friends and everybody else about this blog.

Thanks, Jerry

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Acceptance is…

Written by Jerry Stanecki

When I feel depressed and start feeling sorry for myself, fortunately, I remember to use what I’ve learned from my program.

Acceptance is the key to my serenity.

Accept, easy to say but hard to do.

It takes willingness and practice to accept what is and to truly believe there is a power greater then yourself in this world or out of this world.

Once I get past that diversion and really believe, I can and will accept what is happening at that moment.

So, I, willing and humbly accept what is in my life at that moment.

I genuinely feel grateful for what I have in life. A great family, a daughter who cries at the airport when she hugs her father, two great sons, a nice home I created. I have clean sheets, a kitten named Daisy Mae that loves me, (even though I am armed with a squirt gun used to keep her off the furniture) and everything else that comes to me.

Good times are easy to accept. It’s most important to accept what is when bad times in life occur.

When I surrender and get grateful I feel better.

So, I can enjoy the journey by surrendering to the old useless feelings that aren’t serving me any longer. Feelings learned by repeatedly watching and learning from my parents and replace the negative with positive thoughts and, if you have to, force gratitude for the seemingly good and seemingly bad to allow myself to feel better.

Acceptance is the key to my serenity.  How I feel is a choice, my choice.


Copyright © 2017

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