THE MENSCH

A Mensch is someone that is admired. to admire and emulate, someone of noble character. The key to being "a real mensch" is nothing less than character, rectitude, dignity, a sense of what is right, responsible, decorous. (Rosten, Leo. 1968. The Joys of Yiddish. New York: Pocket Books. 237)

Having said that, I'd like to classify my bigdog as "menschy."

He's not afraid to be himself.

He's a classy individual that isn't afraid to prowl outside of his home wearing, his "white trash superman house pants."

Sure you might be in complete disagreement judging from the posted picture.
But that's just my point. Just because he's NOT dressed to impress, doesn't mean he's not worthy.

Sure I'll remind him if his nose hairs are starting to grow into his mouth, or when his nails look longer than mine, but he'll do the same for me.

We balance each other out. We accept each others differences, interfaith and all.

We're menschy but we're not afraid to be ourselves. That in itself is truly glorifying.

There are those that would frown on his outfit of choice. Those that would turn their nose up at the thought of him wearing that out for public viewing.

It's ashame that we judge based on appearance. After all, even the rich and famous, get gas. We all "drop the kids off at the pool," and we all get crusty!

Why judge?

Because it's human nature to cast that stone.

Now, Bigdog was very apprehensive for me to take his picture. He's not a big fan of "putting himself out there," for the entire world wide web to view.

He supports my blogging, because he knows it's good for me.
He supports my obsession with MYSPACE, because he knows it's a great tool for me to keep my loved ones close.

Does that mean he will venture down that same path? Hell no. He doesn't get myspace, doesn't understand why people need to post pictures of their family members on a public site. Knowing that anyone with a click of their mouse can get a feeling for what you're all about.

We have different view points on the use of the www. But I respect his thoughts on it. I respect that my sisters are apprehensive of posting their children's pics online, which is why you'll never see a picture of my nephews or niece on my profile, nor on this blog. Until they change their mind, I will respect their wishes. It doesn't mean I won't write about them, but all names will be changed to protect the innocent.

It's about choice. Freedom of choice. Freedom to write your thoughts and feelings. Freedom to use what we've been given in this day and age to help ourselves feel better internally.

After having postpartum depression TWICE, and then dealing with post natal depression,which didn't kick in until after I discontinued breastfeeding after lil Ben was 7months old, was a good thing. Having those particularly dark days, ultimately lead me to start writing. To capture my feelings on paper,at the very moment that I thought them.

Having a strong personality, being so independent, was very challenging for me to deal with the hormonal fluctuations. Having to admit to weakness, having to admit to insecurities when you're so used to having confidence, was one of the hardest things to go through.

Waking up every morning dreading the day. Not believing in yourself as a spouse, as a mother, it's utterly painful.

Obviously now "I'm okay."

I'm back to being me.

You never really realize "you," until it's disappeared for awhile.

It's an awakening to have your old self back.

Having PPD and PMD gave me a new appreciation for myself. The overall outcome of that depression, is what brought me to this blog. I was able to discover a new refreshing outlet.

So, for those of you that may feel like you're in a dark spot right now. Hang on!!
Find something that you enjoy. Put yourself out there. Take risks and learn from the bad. There's always something good that will come from it.

Here's a great example of that:

A 19 year old girl, learning about life, growing into herself after being ridiculed her entire K-8grade elementary school life for being the skinny, flat Ethiopian, "another brick on that Pink Floyd wall," fish lips, that had more buns than boobs. Even that wasn't much to show for.

Talk about what that did to her confidence.

A personal obsession with the bust became her life long goal.

This poor girl relayed to me that for as long as the taunting started, she obsessed over having breasts.

She prayed for them.

She read JUDY BLUME, Dear God It's Me Margret, but instead of praying for her period, she prayed for breasts.

Her wishes started to "blossom" right about the time she was approaching her junior year of high school.

Finally she noticed people looking at her in a "good way."

Eventually she met a wonderful guy that was so sweet he only hit her occasionally. Eventually she moved away out of her home, at the ripe old age of 19 to live on the "south side" with her aunt.

Her aunt that gave her a chance at starting all over again. To start fresh without the drama's of that 25 year old guy that enjoyed using his fists more so than his lips.

She learned from that. The very bad of that entire situation is what taught her what she didn't want out of life. It taught her not to seek comfort in someones arms that chose to be a bit too "rough." It taught her that she was better than that, and there would be no way she'd allow that to happen in her life ever again.

So you see, there is good that comes from bad. Sometimes it's very difficult to recognize at first. Sometimes it's hard to understand why you're being dealt a card of PMD, or even the abusive boyfriend path. But there is good hidden in there.

Learned lessons show up even after losing your parents. You just have to be willing to embrace the moment. Embrace the fact that it's okay to cry, it's okay to grieve.

It's okay to cry over the termination of your relationship with someone that didn't respect you.

It's okay to feel lost.

It's perfectly normal to question "why me," when you wake up every morning dreading the day because you have Post partum depression.

But the trick is to be susceptible to the good that will come from it. To take the bad and uncover the lessons learned. To recognize that the discovery of good will show itself, even in the hardest of times.

As for that 19 year old?

She went on to marry a wonderful man.

A man that wasn't afraid to step out in public with his socks pulled up over his superman pants. (cue MC HAMMER!)

He even blessed her with three magnificent young sons.

Sure she didn't enjoy the taunting from the middle school kids about her boobs,and her rather large "fish lips." Sure she wasn't happy about having a relationship with someone 6 years older than her that used his fists. Sure she was rather annoyed when she was diagnosed with PPD, but she learned from all of it.

And now, she writes.

Welcome to Crustybeef~
What good have you learned from "your bad?"