The Ghost of the Couch

At one time, I was pretty technologically savvy. I mastered AOL and dial-up modems and flip cell phones.  I can remember the time, however, when I realized I was falling out of step.  A friend of mine got a digital camera one Christmas (this was when digital cameras were cutting edge technology).  He was showing it off, and was telling me how it can take hundreds of pictures on one memory card.  I was just getting ready to ask him about film when he laughed and said, "And can you believe, there is always that one idiot who asks, 'But what about the film?'" That was the time when I realized technology was moving faster than I was.

I think I'm doing ok, I have an iPad and an iPhone and I use both, quite well.  I email and text, and I Facebook and Pinterest like mad.  I kick butt at Candy Crush and I save several, simultaneous Words With Friends games going on.  I also have a Twitter account and an Instagram, but I use those mainly to follow other people.  I understand how to use hashtags and I know how to make a meme.  I've been seeing on Facebook and Instagram several acronyms that I've finally figured out:  #MCM (Man Crush Monday), #WCW (Woman Crush Wednesday), #TBT (Throw Back Thursday).  I don't think I have a MCM or a WCW, but I sure do love TBT.  I don't usually post TBT pictures, but I love to see other people's memories and I love nothing more than going thru my own old pictures and strolling down memory lane.

I was looking through some old pictures the other day (because it was, after all, #TBT, and I have to pretend I'm still relevant LOL) and I was struck by two thoughts:  some things have changed so much, yet some things haven't changed a single bit. I found a picture of my kids -- it was summer and I'd guess he was 3 which would make her about 1-1/2.  I look at that picture of them in all their precious innocence and sweetness and it almost takes my breath away.  I know intellectually that picture is almost 20 years old, yet it honestly feels like it was just last week.  I love the adults my children have become and I am so proud of them I almost can't stand it, but part of me longs to return to those precious toddler days, just for one more summer afternoon.  

Then I started looking at the other things in the photo:  his Mario brothers shirt, her sippy cup, the pacifier that I thought she'd take to college ... and that couch.

That couch.  I got a sick feeling in my stomach.  That hideous blue couch.  I hated that couch.  It was given to us by someone who knew we needed one, and while I was grateful, I hated that couch.  It was ugly, it was uncomfortable and it smelled funny.  We were not in a place, financially, to buy a new couch and it was a blessing that we were given that couch at all -- prior to that we were sitting on lawn chairs in our living room -- but every time I saw that couch, I didn't feel gratitude or thankfulness.  I felt embarrassed and a little ashamed.  I hated that we had an ugly, uncomfortable, smelly hand-me-down couch and I just couldn't get past that. I wouldn't invite people over because I didn't want them to see the couch, much less have to sit upon (and smell) it.  I told myself that when we got new living room furniture, I'd entertain more.  I'd become gracious and hospitable.  I'd be confident and self-assured.  Everything would be perfect, once I got rid of that couch.

We did, eventually, get rid of that couch.  We bought all new living room furniture -- brand new, matching furniture that looked good, smelled good and was comfortable and inviting. But I realized, I missed out on so much, waiting for the "good" living room.  I missed out on having people over, I missed out on entertaining, I missed out on peace and tranquility. Every time I walked into my living room, I didn't see my precious babies -- I didn't see a room filled with family and friends and love -- I didn't feel joy and contentment and peace. I felt shame and embarrassment. Over a couch. Please. How ridiculous is that?  

But guess what?  I'm still doing that.  Yeah, I have a nicer couch now, but somehow I didn't morph into Lady Gracious, Queen of Hospitality.  I still hesitate to invite people over because what if my house isn't as nice as theirs?  What if I bring them a meal and they don't like what I cook?  What if I invite someone over for dinner and I don't have enough place settings that match?  I know someone without a car, but I hesitate to give them a ride because my car is old and the a/c is tempermental.  I am still, 20 years after the Couch From Hell went to the dump, living with the ghost of that couch.  I'm still waiting for (whatever) ... once we get a new couch, I'll entertain.  Once I get a new car, I'll drive people.  Once I get new dishes and glassware, I'll invite people over for dinner.  Once I feel more confident, I'll ... (fill in the appropriate blank).  

It was never that couch.  Yeah, that couch was pretty awful, but I think we all have an awful couch somewhere in our past.  

Things change:  technology, time, kids, couches. 

20 years later, I know how digital cameras work, I know how to use my iPhone and iPad, and I'm comfortable with #TBT. 

Maybe it's time to exorcize the ghost of the Couch From Hell.