Lisa M. Frame

essays

Checking In, Friends.

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Hello Friends,

What a time to be alive. I have been self-isolated since March 6 due to circumstances beyond my control and let me tell you, it has been interesting.

My job is in social media for a pancreatic cancer nonprofit so I have been watching the COVID19 virus take hold across the world for some time (early January). When all of this started life was pretty normal, by the end of February I was trying to manage family health issues. When March rolled around I was wondering if my son would be able to get home from his study aboard program in London. (He’s home and is missing the Big Smoke.)

I truly haven’t had much desire to write, but now find that it brings me comfort and I am hoping to do something small every day – whether it is something amusing/silly, or what is helping me stay sane as I work from home (which I have done for almost 20 years) while dealing with long-distance worrying over family and friends.

These little additions could be as simple as a quote I found particularly meaningful, musings on life, or things I find online that my family will probably roll their eyes at, but gave me a chuckle or pushed me to read further.

I believe it is the little things that will get us through this pandemic. A friend asked me about businesses carrying on and my thoughts on it. I believe it’s a good thing, y’all. We are all literally locked in our homes unless we are a essential employee and there are days I feel the walls closing in on me with alarming force. Seeing businesses (traditional, virtual, bloggers, etc.,) carrying on means we are moving forward when it feels like we are trapped in a never ending nightmare.

Moving forward is essential. We would not have survived the Great Depression followed by WWII if we weren’t resilient. Taking those steps, one at a time, no matter how wobbly they are, means we are getting closer to the other side. We won’t know what that looks like for a long time and the short-term unknown is terrifying. One thing is for certain — we will be forever changed as not only a nation, but as a world.

It is my hope that we come out a little more compassionate to our fellow humans, and that during this time of isolation, we show just as much grace and compassion to ourselves as we would to others.

Stay safe, friends. Let me know how you are doing and know that you are always in my thoughts.

Much Love,

Lisa

Thoughts from the sofa.

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It’s the day after Thanksgiving and I’m sitting here and hanging out on my sofa, which is where I’ve been for the last 15 days or so. However, I’ve not felt like picking up my laptop to write, nor have I scribbled in my journal. There’s been nothing and for that I apologize. We’ll call this piece thoughts from the sofa.

I do have a good excuse as I’ve had what is now known as the upper respiratory virus from hell. What I thought was a cold culminated in me living on “Helen” (you don’t name your sofa?). I mean, I didn’t drink coffee — I had my first cup yesterday. You know things are bad when the coffee is gone from my life and I don’t miss it.

Yet, today I am feeling better and taking some time to sit here and reflect. Something I don’t do often enough. I didn’t reflect much during my illness as my head was to stuffed up to do anything but consider which size drill bit I would need to drain the stuffiness.  I believe we call that “desperation.”

So much has went on in the world in the last two weeks. Things I’ve watched and read about. Life changing events. Not that I’m personally involved, but they have an affect on my personally. The Bill Cosby accusations, the Ferguson announcement, the Syrian Crisis, ISIS. So much that I don’t write about on my blog, because, let’s face it, I know I’m not qualified to have that type of discussion here and, more importantly, I don’t want to.

But, it’s made me think. Mainly about childhood heroes, disappointment in people, the day formerly known as Black Friday, and critical thinking skills. I know that’s a messed up little list there, but critical thinking skills are what’s really been at the root of all I’ve thought about. There are days when I wonder if crazy pills are being put in the water.

Now, this isn’t to criticize anyone, nor is it point fingers. What I’m doing is genuinely questioning things for myself out loud in this here forum folks call a blog. Do we think critically any more? The reason I ask is it seems to me like so many in the general population don’t discuss issues these days. They just say “this is this” and refuse to talk or hear another persons thoughts and opinions. It’s very cut and dry and no consideration is taken for what other sides are saying. Admittedly, some sides should be put on the top of my cuckoo clock and left there, but what about when it’s about making decisions that are life changing?

Maybe this is because I’m an over thinker and I have to hear all sides of everything. I’m that person who sat in a large electronics retailer one  year ago for six hours researching all of the TV’s they had in stock, talking to multiple sales clerks AND had already spent a good 10+ hours online reading about televisions. While I realize that’s a tangible good, it gives you an idea into how I think about everything.

When President Obama ran against Senator John McCain during the 2008 Presidential elections, I remember sitting in my friends shop and discussing the debates. Him — a gay, small business owner. Me — well, I’m just me. But he told me the story of how he waited to watch the debates and was sitting at work with his ear buds in watching them and a customer asked what he was watching and when he said “the Republican debates,” the ones held before McCain received the nomination, it became a hell-fire brimstone moment in his shop. He was lambasted for listening to them debate, for wanting to hear what they had to say, all prefaced with “I can’t believe someone like you…” meaning “gay.” His response has been my self-check any time I’m faced with something like this “How am I supposed to make a decision if I don’t hear what both sides have to say?”

I guess, in this long, drawn-out mess is that I’m going to be doing even more critical thinking offline, and more importantly, using better listening skills. With everything I read. Everything I hear. Everything. If I discuss things on this blog — like the Calvin Klein Plus-Sized Model Debate — believe me, I’ll make sure, just as I did in that piece, that I’m using my critical thinking skills to the best of my ability. Otherwise, I won’t touch it.

Personal: Friendship, Death and Reminders

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I drove to Charleston today to be with my friend, Heather Solos, as she laid her younger sister to rest. Death is never easy. As a friend, I wanted to cradle Heather and take her pain away. As a parent, I was so torn emotionally I had a hard time keeping it together. Parents don’t expect to bury their children, it’s just not how it’s supposed to happen. And it left me more heartbroken than I already was for this beautiful family.

This is the tweet Heather posted when I knew something had went horribly wrong:

Save this number in your phone. Use it when you or somebody needs it. National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 800-273-8255. (800-273-TALK)

— Heather Solos (@HeatherSolos) August 23, 2013

Upon seeing that, my brain went numb. I just knew my friend had something horrible happen in her life and there was nothing I could do but wait patiently and pray. There have been many of us waiting and praying. It’s been powerful to see so many in the blogging community come together with this one common goal of sending love, light, strength, prayers, whatever you want to call it. We sent it. We’re all connected via a common theme and Heather is one of us.

Heather and I met via social media, then socially a few times, and now, we’re “real life’ friends. Social media amplifies and connects us outside our day in, day out life. It brings us in contact with so many more people and those people become part of your life. Whether they are “real life” friends, or “online” friends, we still call them friend. It also amplifies feelings of helplessness, knowing you could be thousands of miles away.

Even now, I’m not sure what all I want to say, but I have a few things I want to ask of you. Pick up the phone and make those phone calls. Rethink the grudges, and let bygones be bygones. Love fully. Love deeply. You never know when your last minute is going to be with someone and I want to know you loved as hard and as deeply as possible. If you can’t do it for me, do it for Heather and Laura.

 

When genetics don’t make you family.

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I don’t know if this is the right place to share this. I don’t know if this is the right time to write this. But when you’re a writer, you have to get it out. And right now, I’m puking emotions all over the screen.

My sister had surgery today, a complicated procedure involving her neck, spinal cord, bone grafts, and titanium plates. I’m so happy this is a first step in her healing process that is another story for another day.

Today, I saw my real dad. The man I lived as a family unit with my mother and sister until I was 10. And that’s pretty much where our history stops. What history I do have isn’t good. It’s filled with his violent, emotional, physical outbursts, all focused on my mother, but implanted in my history, as much as my DNA is implanted in me at a cellular level.

He had no idea I was coming to my sister’s surgery and as far as I know, she didn’t tell him. I’m not sure if he had known I was coming, if he would have shown up. If anyone else from my mother’s side of the family had come, he wouldn’t have been there. I guess that’s his way of not facing his past.

I’m writing this through my tears. Today, I sat on a two-person sofa beside a man I have nothing in common with other than he donated to half of my genetic makeup. Physically, I have shoulders and short, stocky structure. His fair skin. His hands. A love of photography bordering on obsession. But nothing else I can note.

Why am I weeping for a man who gave up life with us? Who I begged to pay attention to me. Him I so desperately wanted to love me for me. Instead, he loved others. His girlfriend. His wife. Her kids. Their kid.

The only thing I ever wanted was his attention. To spend time with him. To get to know him. To get answers. Why is the big one. Why did he do what he did to my Mom? Why did he just stop being a Dad to us? Why, why, why?

My dear friend, Dresden, just texted me the reminder “We all turned out so kick ass. Absent genetic contributors and all.”

Yet, I question that because I’m still seeking approval from a man I’m not sure I’ll never get approval from. Isn’t that what we’re all seeking from our parents? Approval. It’s such loaded word and can make or break your psyche. Your confidence. Your life at so many times.

Mom has told me repeatedly how happy he was to have me in his life. How much he loved me. That he would grab strangers by the hand at the hospital to have them come look at his first born, his baby. But, when it’s been 30 years… really 38, as he pretty much bailed emotionally and physically when mom was pregnant with my sister.

Maybe it’s hitting me harder because my late Grandfather’s birthday is just around the corner. He’s the one who stepped up when my father took off. He took me to my softball games, taught me how to drive a car, and slipped me his credit card without my Grandmother knowing when I was going out with friends. He’s been gone 4 years and the pain still hasn’t receded. I have another wonderful man in his place, my step-father, Steve. Two amazing men who love me for me.

But, it still doesn’t change the aching loneliness. Doesn’t stop the flood of tears that won’t stop coming pouring out of me. All I know is, today I sat on that sofa and have never felt more like a lost little girl, wishing I could find the directions to put me in his heart and in his life.

Every Body is Beautiful

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Every body is beautiful. That’s not a typo. I’m talking about every person walking on this planet is beautiful in their own way. It doesn’t matter what size or shape they are, they are beautiful. While you might disagree with me, it’s taken me a long time to come to this place in my life.

My friends all range in body size and shape, from waif thin to big, beautiful women. They are all beautiful.

However, now matter how beautiful I’ve always thought my friends are, I’ve never been able to look in the mirror and say “Hey, Lisa. You know what, girl? You’re pretty damn attractive. In fact, you’re beautiful.”

NEVER.

Until I made myself do it. This morning.

I threw up. (Something my husband doesn’t even know, until now. Hi babe.)

You see, I’m a big girl. For years, I’ve been shamed for my size. Even when I could still fit into the high end clothing sizes of haute couture (size 12), I was told I was too fat and wasn’t acceptable.

Let me put things in perspective. Sports Illustrated Swim Suit cover model Kate Upton is a size 12.

Yeah.

Who told me I was too fat and unacceptable? Everyone. Boys. Girls. Family members. Sales clerks in stores. People on the street. Oh, a lot of them might not have said it to my face. But they told me. I’ve had their looks. I’ve seen them turn away from me. Sales clerks will willingly help my “normal” sized husband, but they pretend I don’t exist. Servers in restaurants don’t assume my husband and I are together and always ask if we’d like separate checks or just bring us separate checks.

No. I’m not kidding you.

But, I’m also not the only person with this story. There are a million other big women with this story. There are also just as many women, thin, medium sized, and all sizes in-between with the same story. Either you’re too thin and need to eat more to gain weight, or you’re too fat. Even my friends who are amazingly fit, triathletes, who run marathons, have 12% body fat, are told they are “too thin”, “too butch” and “not soft enough”. Some have even been told they are too fat.

So who fits the mold? Many would say celebrities and models. But wait. Don’t we tear them apart, because GASP! they have cellulite? Or if they are bloated from their period, the tabloids use that as fodder to say “so and so is pregnant” or is “hiding a baby bump”. God help them if they gain two pounds, because the world is going to end and they’ll never get another role, nor be in another magazine, unless it’s one shaming their weight gain. If they have a baby, they’re screwed if they don’t appear in their skinny jeans two weeks after giving birth, sipping the latest green juice and looking as if they just came back from a month long tropical holiday.

Let’s face facts, it doesn’t matter what size you are, people won’t accept it unless you fit into their preconceived mold.

Yes, there are problems that come with being overweight. There are also problems that come with being too thin. There are problems no matter what size you are. I have a physical issue (polycystic ovarian syndrome) that is part of my weight problems and there is no cure, just treatment, which to date hasn’t been successful. That’s not what this post is about. It’s not about the health ramifications, even though I’m not naive enough to say there are none. My mother is in the medical profession, believe me, I know all the issues.

What I’d love to see is love. That we love the people we see on the street. We don’t point fingers. We don’t call people skinny minnies or tell people who are overweight how “disgusting” they are.

But what is it going to take for that to happen?

It’s going to conversation. REAL conversations between people who’ve set aside their judgments to sit and listen to each other. As much as we all want acceptance by others, the conversation will be stronger when we discuss both openly and honestly. The more we learn to have self-acceptance, the less others opinions will affect us. Yet the more others lift us up instead of cutting us down, the more self-acceptance we’ll have.

I’ve had those real conversations. Even I have been guilty of posting the pictures on Facebook of Marilyn Monroe and how a “real woman” should look. That is, until I sat down and talked to my dear friend, Heather, who is a super-thin gal. She is tall. Reed thin. Beautiful. Everything I always wanted to be. Heather also has a hard time finding clothes to fit her and is more likely to lose weight than gain weight. It’s just how her body is geared. Just like mine is genetically pre-dispositioned to look like a linebacker for a professional football team.

I don’t know what it will take for the conversation to start. I’m not sure where we go with the conversation. I wonder if people are too set in their ways to follow through and have a cordial discussion about such a heated topic. But, I have to set my worries aside and do the hard thing. I have to start the conversation. If I wait for others to start, it might never happen. And not taking a chance on changing the world would be irresponsible.

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