Protect

It was not long after I started my shift at the store yesterday, when the phone rang and the caller asked to speak with our manager. Before I could connect him, he began to speak to me in that charmy smarmy way that some older (his voice sounded elderly) men do with women. I tried to keep the chat brief and professional, because I was simultaneously doing all the things I have do while speaking with him. He asked me if I liked the President (he called him something other than that) and I answered honestly, "Yes. I do." At that point, he became very nasty, proceeded to tell me I was rude, he would have me fired, he was a shareholder, and then he used the "f" word and called me some very unkind names and use some more profanity. At that point, I stopped speaking and he asked if I heard him, was I still there, etc. I allowed him to hear some of my complete silence, then I put him on "hold" where he would hear our music and asked the manager to take the call. My hands were trembling and my stomach felt sick. He was brutal. It takes a lot to shake me up, but that really did. As soon as she was finished with the call, my manager came up to see if I was okay. I really wasn't. Not at all.

As I processed it throughout the day, one of the thoughts I had was that I was glad I was the one to take the call, and not someone on my team. I wouldn't want them to be talked to that way. In fact, I always have my ears and eyes open even at the busiest times, and if I think a customer is mistreating one of my colleagues, I take a walk over to see if I can help. Usually just my presence calms things down. Or causes the customer to back down. It is not part of my job description, although they all know to call on me if they need help. Am I being a martyr? And do other adults need my protection? Do I feel unprotected and protect others as a way to compensate for this?

I am no super hero. I'm not even a hero. I have no cape. Although at work, I do wear an apron which could easily be converted into a cape. I can't save the world. Sometimes I struggle just to save myself. I don't want to be a martyr. They usually have very short lives.

Susan

Of Knights and Owls and Night Owls

It was almost two years ago, when my granddaughters and I set off for one of our adventures. They were longtime veterans of Build-A-Bear, but it was my first time. Have you ever been? It is a wonderful place, where you make your own plush toy. I had checked out the website before we went to the mall, so I had an idea of what it was going to cost to really do it right. The girls were delighted that I was going to make a stuffed animal, too. I am not one of those adults who take kids places and quietly observe while they have fun. I love to join in. My older granddaughter made a cute bear with glasses, just like the ones she wears. Her younger sister made a bunny. We got all sorts of accessories. Glasses and hats and underwear and shoes. It was a lot of money, but I taught my granddaughters a new word that day: splurge.

Grandma made an owl. A boy owl. Dressed like a knight. A knight owl. Night owl; get it? When he saw the picture, my older brother said he looked like an astronaut. My owl still sits in my bedroom with the giant Panda my younger son (the girls' uncle) won for me at the county fair when he was nine.

I had the owl for a few months, when one night I took his knight costume off. It was during that twilighty time at night when I get up to go to the bathroom. Not fully awake, but not really sleeping either. I vaguely remembered coming back from the bathroom and taking off his armour. And sure enough, the next morning I awoke to see him  in his natural owliness, and the knight stuff laying beside him. I put it in the back of a dresser drawer, and he hasn't had it on since.

I shared this story at the time with my niece, and she said that maybe I didn't need my armour anymore. So I guess it was symbolic. His armour is in the the back of a dresser drawer, if he ever needs it, but he hasn't and a year and half has gone by already.

The past day or two I've been thinking about protection. I know how to protect myself, if I need to. But it no longer gives me any pride or satisfaction to know that. Like any survivor, I learned it as a means to take care of myself, and it was appropriate at the time. Our human brains come factory equipped with protective devices, defense mechanisms. Helpful in the moment, but once the danger is over, they have no use, other than to inhibit an otherwise healthy, happy life.

My armour has been useful to me, but it was a cold comfort when those charged with my protection failed me. I wrote about this in Be A Man. I'm happy I don't need to protect myself anymore. Oh, I'll always know I can if I have to, but my belief and my intention is that I won't ever need my armour ever again. Ever.

Susan

The Pink Knight

Knights were young men in the age of chivalry. In medieval times, they were, above all else, protectors. Ladies trusted them implicitly. From an era long gone, they are the stuff charming stories and colorful movies are made of.

Have you ever felt you've been here before? That feeling of "deja vu?" Do you know a very young child some might refer to as an "old soul?" How about that new friend, the one you connected with immediately as if you'd been friends forever? Some folks believe that we have had past lives, or at the very least that we existed in some other form, perhaps in some other dimension before we were born into this life. That perhaps some people in our lives today were in a past life with us. Neale Donald Walsch suggests we have been here hundreds of times before. Louise L. Hay tells those of us with flawed parents, that our parents are actually the perfect ones for us because we chose them before we were born. These ideas were startling to me at first, but I have discovered many groups have these kinds of beliefs. I don't know what to believe about all of it, but I am entertained just pondering it.

I have a knight. A present-day knight. A girl. The Pink Knight. Now on the surface, she is my seven-year-old granddaughter. She, her older sister and I visited an amusement park and brought home souvenirs. She chose a pink foam shield and matching sword, each decorated with girly swirlies and ruby red jewels. She set out to protect me. Now, on the surface, I am a modern day, independent woman who needs no protection. Apparently the Pink Knight knows something I don't know.

She cleansed my home of spirits. She was quite serious about it, and on the surface it seemed to be an imaginative little girl playing make-believe. What she had no way of knowing (?) was that there were some unhealthy circumstances there recently. I would never tell my little granddaughters about adult problems, because I want to protect them from that. My dear friend/roommate and I handled the situation, the two of us working as a very effective team. Relieved that things were resolved, we had been enjoying the peace and happiness of our home for a few weeks. Apparently the Pink Knight knew something we didn't know. Some of the things she told us as she went about her knight business were nothing short of amazing.

My granddaughters and I had a wonderful time together. I love those little girls, and I would do anything for them. I would protect them with my life if it came down to that, and not even give it a second thought. They are young and innocent and vulnerable and deserve to be protected. That being said, it is abundantly clear now that Grandma needed protection, too. And I do feel safe and cared for and protected. I trust the Pink Knight implicitly, because apparently she knows some things I don't know.

Susan