If you know anything about me, you know that I am a happy, positive person with a lot of energy. An exhausting amount of energy at times, lol. I like to share happiness, and kindness, and believe in giving back in whatever way I can. I always say my biggest strength is that I am a cheerleader. I love love. I love celebrating families and moments in life with people. I love to see people succeed. I love it when people are happy. I love to see joy. And then I got robbed. Which caused my very nature to go into turmoil. When people hurt me, or are unkind towards me, I think I take it especially hard, because given the chance, I would probably be their biggest cheerleader too.
On Thursday, I had scheduled a senior portrait at Rope’s beach in Cotuit, because of the lovely old dock there. I had talked it up to my client, and sold her on the idea of photographing there. Old Cape Cod at it’s finest, I’d told her. I arrived and that dock was gone. Totally, completely gone. Well, okay, there was a piece of plank, and a couple of support pieces of wood along the edge of the shore at the tide line, but otherwise gone. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I jumped out of my car, (my beautiful Jeep that makes me so happy, and brings me such joy driving around with the top down, and other Jeep owners waving, I just love everything about it… It’s ridiculous how happy a car can make you…) leaving everything on the seat and went to have a quick explore. I think my mouth was still hanging open when my clients arrived. To no dock. The entire location for the session. We discussed options, and then decided we’d borrow a private dock, not something I ever do, but it’s fall, and the owners are most likely gone for the season, and we discussed all of the possibilities and decided under the circumstances they’d understand. And off we went…
We had a great session. The light was spectacular. There was enough wind to keep the no see-ums at bay. It was such a fun senior session. I was standing in water up to my knees to get the best angles, which was way better than when I was in the grass being attacked by these weird little beetle type bugs climbing up my legs, jumping on and off me at an alarming rate (okay so that made me a little squeamish, though they didn’t make me miss the shot!)… And then as the sun was setting behind the trees, and everything was beautiful and calm, the water was this amazing colour and dotted with boats, we wrapped up and were talking next steps. I suddenly realized I’d left my purse on my front seat. Of my wide open, much loved, Jeep. As I’m chatting away to my clients I grab it, knowing it would be fine, only one other car had come and gone (that we’d seen anyway) in the amount of time that we were there. And opened the zippered part that I kept my cash in, to find it empty except for a stack of my business cards.
Turns out it’s their gig. These mean, unkind and greedy humans. They go to Rope’s beach at sunset, because the only people there are usually out for an end of day paddle, or kayak, or sail, or walk, or what have you. I’ve seen it every time I’ve been there. The end of day enjoyers are gone for about an hour (I know this because we usually start our adventures, mine being portrait sessions, at the same time.) The thieves have plenty of time to check unlocked cars. I happened to have a purse full of cash. (I get a little sick every time I think of how much cash, I’d had a couple of clients pay by cash, and I had just put back in my purse an additional $260. I’d taken out when we’d traveled to Europe over the summer that I’d popped away for safe keeping… (ha!) So I’m not sure how much exactly, but somewhere in the $600-$800 range). I needed to go to the bank, but I just hadn’t got around to it yet, because this time of year I work, a lot. So they made out incredibly well. Me. Less well.
All of those hours spent working instead of doing something for myself or with my family were for no gain whatsoever. Hours of my time, and my talent, so that some horrible human being (or beings) could come and just take it. Now don’t get me wrong. It was my fault. Totally one hundred percent. I got distracted for a moment, and it cost me a lot. Now the positive here is that the money isn’t going to affect my day to day, and I understand that that makes me truly blessed. It is money that I need, and work incredibly hard for, so hard, but we are not going to go without food or electricity or really anything other than a luxury or two because it’s gone. I know that I am lucky in that.
Still, I cry a lot. I just don’t know how else to handle the rage. It’s not part of my being. It’s not so much feeling sorry for myself, (though I guess I am) as just hating what this world has in it, and feeling so fed up with the bad guys winning. Someone commented on a post I wrote about it, karma will get them, but isn’t it me that got the bad karma? Honestly, an hour unlocked. What are the chances of my bag being gone through? An hour almost anywhere else, and it probably would have been fine. I comment so often these days, ‘love will win’. But will it? Or let’s stick with the it will, when will it?
What they’ve taken from me is so much more than the money. They’ve taken away my perky. They’ve replaced it with anger and that is the part I’m struggling with. We’ve had a very challenging year, I deal daily with the loss that comes from a mother with Alzheimer’s, and all that that brings, we’ve lost my mother in law, and lovely uncle this year, among other things including having $2,000 grand stolen from an online sale. And yet, I just keep trying to keep my positive attitude through it all. Because I totally believe in the power of it. It doesn’t mean I don’t get sad, or depressed, or angry, I just don’t let it take over. But I guess perhaps this just might be the straw, and I need to figure out how not to let it be so. Because I am mad at my Jeep. At my purse. At myself. At God. At the world. And at the people who think it’s okay to steal.
I write little positive sayings on a chalkboard in my kitchen, changing them every few weeks or so, and when I got home on Thursday, I couldn’t stand looking at my cheerfulness. In anger I just ran my hand over the board, and when I could still see it too clearly, I wet my hand and tried again, leaving a big smudgy mess. I’m assuming my husband washed it clean for me. Because it is now blank. Clean. Wordless. It was pure anger there on that board that I’d left. Every time I look at it now, empty, waiting for my positive view on the world, I roll my eyes. I usually swear at it too. Lol. I just can’t find the words. Other than that one that starts with F. I use that one way too much. It almost made it on the board, lol, but that would upset my husband, and not be what a good mom would write in her kitchen. Though if I lived alone, I think that board might be pretty therapeutic, haha. Lucky I don’t. (for way more reasons than that.)
Today as I was driving by the American Cross bloodmobile, I thought to myself, I should go give blood. I need to get back to myself. I need not to let this be so invasive in my happy nature. I know the best way to feel better is to help others. And so I turned my car around and went to donate. As I was reading through the long list of places you mustn’t have been, I was surprised that there was my beloved England. Darn that Mad Cow disease. And so I wasn’t, nor will I most likely ever be again, eligible to donate. The last time I’d tried it was my trip to Kenya that they denied me for, and I didn’t even get to the list, or I’d have known. I swore at the fact I couldn’t give blood. (Not until I was alone in my car, of course, to them I was smiley and cheerful they’d never know the turmoil just below the surface, because I am also a big believer in that…)
I thought giving blood would be a good start to a weekend that already includes walking to find a cure for Alzheimer’s, and volunteering for the Mid Cape Cultural Council, I thought a trifecta of giving back would make me feel better. But the anger is still lurking, and I need to fix it. It is uncomfortable under my skin, and I can feel it’s constant pressure ready to explode at any moment.
I know that the answer is to be positive. To give back. To be kind. To love. To share only things that are uplifting. I do, I do know this. Even that night my Instagram post was Ode to a dock. Though the words I wrote following the title were uninspired, and lackluster. But I tried. I give myself an A for effort, though a C for execution.
Last night I stood in my art room and thought I should create something, and came across a book I’m always thinking about writing about fortune cookie fortunes. Page one is: Look! Your life is filled with good things!
I put the top down for the first time since in my Jeep today. The sun shining down on me while the Dead played made me feel lighter. I’m going to buy those dancing bear stickers I always talk about, because I know they will make me smile. I was going to change my purse, because every time I look at it I think the f word, lol, but I like it, and have decided I am going to embroider “love will win” on it. Because it will. Love will win. My anger doesn’t affect the people that it’s aimed towards at all, it only affects me, and my family. So it is time to let it go. And go do something useful. Like spread some love.
I am lucky in so many ways, and I shouldn’t have to remind myself. I know that to be happy all of the time would not be living authentically. It would be untrue, because no life can have no sadness. I love the words of Stephen Covey, that we can not change that what happens to us, we can only change our response to it, and so far I’m not that pleased with my response to this. And I love too the words of Kalil Gibran about joy and sorrow:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater thar sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
Unlike my wallet, I am not empty. How lucky that makes me.
