Now, I don't know if this is a noticeable trait of mine or not, but I apparently have a bit of an ego.
It's obviously a small glitch in my otherwise perfect personality, so it's nothing to get all huffy about. Awesome doesn't mean perfect. In fact, seemingly perfect people are
never awesome. They downright suck because they're better than me. My (iddy biddy) ego doesn't like that very much.
Every now and then the universe puts someone in my path to bring me back down to earth. Someone who carries around a giant pin with which to deflate my ego (before I hastily slap some duct tape on it in order to preserve the arrogance required for writing such a self-centered blog).
Today I had the pleasure of meeting four of those people.
You may remember Jacob, the little boy at the gremlins' school battling cancer. If you don't, here's his
website and his
Facebook group. Jacob is now at home and doing a series of therapies and getting himself ready for the 2009-10 school year. The little guy has been through the ringer since last November, so it's exciting to see his life returning to some kind of normal. Throughout the last few months, I've been reading his mother's updates and, like so many others, cried a great deal - tears of sadness and of joy.
Not to toot my own horn - well, okay, to toot my own horn
a little - I am sometimes referred to as a strong individual. I have eighteen years of sobriety under my belt, raise three boys, and have emerged from being a depressed, suicidal loser in my school years to a level of popularity that is practically embarrassing (I secretly like it, but ask me in person and I'll play it down like it's nothing. Popular people shouldn't brag lest they might become less popular.)
Do those things make me a strong person? Maybe. But not in comparison to getting really sick, or watching your child get really sick. And this is what I realized as I read post after post of Jacob's mom's entries on the Facebook group. While I would sit there and sob and eat my feelings, I also walked away from each update with a new understanding and a new appreciation for the situations of others. I had a new level of empathy for Emely, my wonderful friend who is battling cancer while raising three kids of her own. I forged a deeper connection in my heart with my own parents, who have spent the last twenty years raising my most amazing brother with Downs Syndrome, Hefner.
And, overall, I realized that I am pretty much a big wimp. Because, while I may sit lazily in the shade of my own ego as it feeds on the compliments of others, I don't know if I'm cut from the same cloth as Jacob, his parents, my parents, my brother, or my friend. I don't think I'm that kind of strong.
Anyway, like I was going to say before that incredibly long lead-up, today I had the pleasure of meeting Jacob and his family. How did I go about doing it? I stalked them, of course.
No, I mean I really did. I stone cold stalked them. I didn't realize it until afterwards, but the proof is in the pudding. It went a little something like this:
First, I started reading his mom's posts and getting all teary, which made me feel a connection to her in some way:
Stalkers often feel they have a connection to their prey. Second, I volunteered at the bake sale for one of Jacob's fundraisers:
Stalkers often try to be where their victims are so they feel as though that connection is strengthening. Third, I wrote to Jacob's mom, Liliane, (I will have to find a catchy name for her at some point) and told her a story that I hoped would be inspirational:
Stalkers often try to relate to their victims so they can weave a false relationship in their minds.Fourth, I saw Jacob and Liliane at Wal-Mart a couple of weeks ago and was going to go say hi... until I remembered
we hadn't actually met yet, so it would probably be weird and creepy:
Stalkers often wuss out on meeting their prey for a good while, as they struggle with separating reality from fiction.Fifth, I saw Jacob's dad at the hardware store and decided to get out of my van and go say hello to him. No, I hadn't met him before, either:
Stalkers will often ramp up their efforts as they feel the pretend connection getting stronger and the urge to reach out impossible to resist.Oh, my. How terribly disturbing.
When you look at all the facts, it's apparent that I'm psycho. The good news is that they seem rather comfortable with psychotic behaviour, because they invited me over to their house this morning. I brought coffee, which softened the blow. I also brought Spawnling so they could focus on him and not on my crazy.
All kidding aside, they are a rockin' family. Jacob stole my heart the minute he said hello, and he even managed to get my toddler terror giggling within a few minutes - no small feat in a new environment. His baby brother is the mushiest marshmallow baby ever, and I almost took off with him until I realized that, as much as I like babies, I'm currently in the celebratory stages of not having any more. As cute as he is, I bet he poops and pukes like normal babies, which would likely cramp my style a bit.
His parents just blew my mind. They are cool and funny and real, exactly like my stalker mind pictured them. The most amazing part - other than the fact that they trusted me to sit in their kitchen - was that the air in their house was thick with love and joy. I left wanting to go home and hug my boys just for being them, and to find the beauty in all the things they do, even if it involves red paint and a beige carpet and some sparkles for added staining.
That scenario and being kicked in the kidney are things I'm still trying to find the beauty in. I'm a work in progress.
So, it's true: people who are more awesome than me actually exist. They may be rare, but when you find them you have to hold on tight and never let go no matter what and make sure you know where they are at all times and what they're doing and who they're with and make them like you damn it!
... Uh, forget I said the last few words.
