Even the losers win…

I can’t seem to win for losing and this repetitive thought has been jammed in my head for some time now. Honestly, it always has been part of my psyche but hit home with the start of the manufactured pandemic a few years ago when the employment structure for countless people, myself included, was significantly impacted.


As time has moved along since the onset of the virus, I’ve dealt with significant changes in my immediate workplace and it’s definitely not for the lack of experience or any educational shortcomings. It has turned into an almost “no win” situation and I despise losing, like most people I’m guessing. Recently, I decided to sit down and summarize a few thoughts as I prepare to attempt a forward move, job-wise.


For anyone, like myself, growing up in a difficult home, feeling like a loser was ingrained in my mentality, that feeling of never being quite good enough. How many of us would often (and still) do anything to avoid losing or failing and with that, inevitable bad choices were made along the way. Where I am concerned, those questionable choices involved employment and still do.


Let’s face it, many years ago, the safe and recommended job path for women involved clerical or secretarial work if one didn’t hold a degree in education, nursing or some occupational training. Venturing into the office environment was indeed safe and without any underlying pressure to always be “good enough”; you typed, filed, stayed relatively organized and punched that clock at the end of each day. There was always the hope of stepping up the next rung of some corporate ladder but that damn fear of losing, of failing was a stumbling block. There was the pressure of not living up to other people’s expectations as well as our own.


We are our own worst enemies, isn’t that true? Staying fearful and worried about not being good enough absolutely robs us of any real opportunity to try, take that risk, attempt something new and possibly rewarding. Personally, I stuck with the predictable and, these many years later, remain in the same safe and very stagnant void of never really moving forward. How many of us are stifled by those more focused on their own agenda while never hesitating to use our capabilities to sometimes exhaustive measures because they pay out a salary?

Here, at this moment, I’ve really been thinking about the idea, or the curse, of “losing” and how I can change my narrow perspective about it while there is hopefully still time. Should I decide to make some drastic career change, I will again start as a beginner somewhere and that will necessitate taking the time to prove I’m good at something more than what I currently do. Even a genius cannot rely on their singular particular talent or gift, hard work is always involved just as it is for the rest of us.

Once again, I’ll likely learn from losing if I venture into unfamiliar employment territory knowing there’s a higher chance of losing than winning. There will always be someone else who is better, stronger, been in the game longer and the only chance will be for me to keep moving and learning. There is that “curve” which most of us find ourselves in the middle of as we observe people who are better than we are and, or course, there will always be people who are worse than we are. What’s important is to stay humble, respect the fact that none of us are special because we have an edge over the next person, stop feeling like you’re a loser who stands on the low end of the achievement ladder. At least 99% of us out here are all the same, still in the process of learning (even when most think they know everything) and the remaining 1% are those who inevitably give up the farm and quit. It’s definitely become a hard knock life.


At this point, I”m personally trying to hold onto whatever faith I have, continue to do what I do and hope that the right door will open. I don’t really need to work but I enjoy being part of some operational structure, where I can contribute, share creativity, and keep my mind in motion. My focus at present is to remember one of life’s “lessons” where we learn that we often lose more than we win and that’s okay, it happens to all of us. Losing does help us to learn where we need to improve and then we need to move the hell on! I need to stop being my own true enemy, enjoy whatever the process is, shove all the fears aside, and enjoy the game even if I honestly feel that I can’t seem to win for losing.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Write a short story that begins and ends with the sentence “I can’t seem to win for losing.”

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Cool it down…

The caustic political verbiage which has been the benchmark for our current presidential campaign came to a sudden stall with the horrendous news event this past Saturday in Pennsylvania, at least for now.


Frankly, one would have to be totally lacking humanity with not having the ability to express empathy for those involved, especially given all of the denigrating rhetoric from those political sides who may have been instrumental with inciting an attempted assassination of a presidential candidate and the heartbreaking murder of an innocent man along with injuries to others.

So, where do we go from here, a momentary pause, a patronizing return to civility, for possibly a few days, even a week? Of course, as would be expected, there have been predictable ramblings from a few opposing sides along with an eerie silence in my own circle from those not sharing similar political views anywhere on social media, almost as if people of a differing political persuasion are unable to reach into their minds, hearts, and offer even the smallest conciliatory statement, choosing instead to post some almost antiseptic meme or nondescript photograph when they do come up for air.

What the hell, people, is it that difficult to step up, speak out, and offer the usual thoughts and prayers in face of an unthinkable event or are your political beliefs dragging you down to sleep with the fishes like Luca Brasi?

Sad, in so many ways that, as human beings, there are those of us lacking the ability to express empathy for others while setting aside our hatred, our differences, while being damn thankful that there, but for the grace of God, could have gone any one of us this past weekend.

Again, what’s next, some of soul-searching while making an effort to meet others in the middle and acknowledge political differences with a bit of intelligent, not condescending, respect? A simple statement, suggested by the current leader of our country is “it’s time to cool it”; a plea for unity, an attempt to heal a fractured country in an election with extremely high stakes.

Cool it, we will; just remember to practice what you’re preaching, JRB.

From the Writer’s Workshop….Write a post in exactly nine sentences.

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Photographs and lost memories…

One picture is worth a thousand words, as the centuries-old adage goes, but not in the vanishing mind of someone with Alzheimer’s. As this treacherous disease advances, simple things, like photographs or written words that would ordinarily jog a person’s memory, present an insurmountable obstacle to an Alzheimer’s sufferer and their loved ones. I pulled up the photo in this post and remembered, feeling blessed that I was able to do so, silently praying that I always will. Still, I was sad that the person holding me those many years ago recognized herself but had absolutely no idea who was in her arms when she looked at the photograph.

As she progressed through Alzheimer’s stages, the basic daily repertoire with my late mother always involved the same questions, asking her if she knew the various faces from family photo albums, mainly mine. The answers varied but never reflected anyone in her present life, only people from her past. The saddest of all were her responses to my baby pictures which brought no recognition on her part, not even mistakenly identifying me with some other relative or acquaintance.

Reality set in quite abruptly for me after my mother was found wandering in the middle of a cold winter’s night and I promptly moved her from her apartment to my home. The process of emptying her home then began and I noted that none of the disorder which surrounds many dementia patients was evident or had been. As it always was, her apartment was neat and clean, everything in its place. Everything, that is, except photographs.

That first day, as I sat in on the floor of her bedroom, in the middle of a pile of her fading memories, I realized that I had never really taken notice that the collection of framed pictures which had been sitting on her shelves, tables and in her bedroom were all gone. Just when they all disappeared escaped me, but it was not unusual for her to periodically move things around when she cleaned. I immediately started going through closets and drawers, moving years of accumulation and suddenly came across shopping bags, stuffed into a corner with frames sticking out. There were the photographs of her family; her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, all put away because she simply did not know who any of these people were anymore; I was at least thankful that she did not throw them all into the trash.

In the piles of forgotten faces, I was amazed that old photos of my parents taken years before their bitter divorce were saved. Pictures I had seen countless times before now were minus my father as my mother had systematically cut him out of most of them. Of course, I later questioned her on this and asked her what happened to my father. Her response? Oh, he was killed in the war. Good riddance! My father, in fact, had died in 1992 from complications of Scleroderma.

Photographs may well indeed be our memory holders and each picture can be the key to unlocking those memories. Sometimes, that is. Where someone with memory loss is concerned, photos do not always help to keep the afflicted person anchored in the moment and stop memories from running away. It’s definitely a wonderful thing if you can travel back consistently through someone’s life story but Alzheimer’s is so cruelly subjective in how those suffering with the disease react to its rampage with waves of fleeting memories which suddenly surface then quickly disappear.

Aside from some of the more promising data involving Alzheimer’s/Dementia, certain things might cause a memory spark but, more often, trigger a negative and very combative response. Of that, I can speak with great authority as the mystery baby being held in this photo; the memories live on still, eighteen years after my mother’s passing.

From the Writer’s Workshop…Share an old photo and let it inspire a blog post.

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