First, let me just say….ow. I can’t walk straight. My legs are wobbling, it hurts to stand up, my arse feels like it’s broken and I’m writing this in a bathtub I may not be able to exit. I’m back … Continue reading
Like many, I’ve had a tough time with this election, my worry and fear culminating in the late night text from my best and typically most unflappable friend that read simply: ” May God Help Us All.”
Images from the Hunger Games and the Senate scene in Star Wars (complete with Emperor Palpatine’s smirking glare) have been dancing through my brain all night at the voting results…possibly a result of all the mainlined sugar. I woke up this morning with a horrible feeling of dread and a post-election hangover. I didn’t want to get out bed.
I’m slowly moving out of shock. I’m saddened and sickened at the thought that so much anger and hatred exists within our nation, and I’m deeply worried at its direction and what the outcome of this election really means. I hate the thought of trying to find the right words with which to talk about it to my children. I hate the thought that perhaps I am being overly dramatic, but somehow this really rocked me at the level of the soul.
I also feel guilty: none of this is new, none of it should have this power to shock me, and yet it does. As someone who has struggled her whole lifetime with depression and anxiety, I’ve purposely shielded myself from a lot of what is going on in the world as a way of self-preservation.
And honestly, I have been able to do that as a straight, college-educated, white, middle-class female. While I’m aware there is a glass ceiling objectively, I’m not smart enough or driven enough to have hit it too hard myself. I have suffered neither racial nor religious persecution. I have not been a victim of violence. I can still turn off my TV and my social media outlets and keep much of the ugliness at bay much of the time.
Breaking that habit over the last two days, in allowing CNN and the media and my own fears to turn me into a terrified, fearful and depressed little girl is on me. I allowed that hated, those horrible words, and accusations to penetrate. I allowed in that anger. I listened to those speeches. I own that: both the shame I felt for our country and for my own helpless indignation. Yes, the stomach-churning anxiety and the generalized sense that something is horribly, terribly wrong is still here. But, post-Xanax and a few pounds heavier, it’s also opened my eyes and I am forcing myself through.
I’m a Christian. I’m a Catholic. I’m a Mother. I’m imperfect as all heck at all three, but I know for sure if I search my heart I know there is more than this. Not only do I believe there is the world beyond this one, but also I believe there is a better world *within* this one. We have fallen. I have fallen. I need to give more, take action, and speak up. I need to use my hands to help. I can’t hide from this any longer and still expect things to be different.
At the end of the day, hope is a verb. Hope is a step taken. Hope feeds the hungry, clothes the naked and protects the vulnerable regardless of race or skin type. Hope is being uncomfortable in the unknown, fighting the fear and being faithful that there is a plan. Hope is getting up in the morning and taking a step and doing something. I can do more. I cannot expect more of my leaders than I do of myself. I cannot change our culture, only my part in it. I will be more. I will be grateful that no matter what I think of the choice we made as a country last night that we had a choice…and that we can make better ones.
So, I’m throwing out the Halloween candy I binged on last night, closing the wine cabinet, and putting on my big girl pants. It’s a New Day. I choose Hope.
Ironically, I woke up angry today.
Anger is natural. Anger is the response we as tiny humans choose unthinkingly when we don’t get what we want, and at 44 I am embarrassed to say it is still often my first response.
My poor little kid’s coughing and hacking in the night after finally having a day where he was mostly well after a 5 day streak of viral fevers had me instantly furious.
WTH? Can’t we get a break? Can’t I get a break? Why does everything happen at once?!!
After two hours of positive reading, praying, drinking tea and trying to get warm downstairs I’m letting it go. I should have probably gotten on the treadmill but I am letting that go too. Baby steps.
Yes, it’s been a rough two weeks here. I’ve been sick with colds and stomach flu, we’ve suffered some minor injuries, we’ve been washing laundry non-stop, and we’re all pretty exhausted. When life gets like that, and it seems you go from one trial to another, it can get rough.
The truth is, this stuff – this stuff that happens: sickness, pain, struggle – isn’t going away. It’s a part of life. It sucks, but honestly it’s minor league. But when we give into anger over it we lose every time: our energy, our focus, our joy, and our immune systems are compromised.
And the last thing my little boy, my gift, my treasure needs from his mom is any negative energy. Only positive energy heals. Only love prevails. I will be that love. I will be the mom he deserves.
Thank you God, that it is a fever and cold, and not something worse. Thank you God that the coughing is getting the garbage out of his system. Thank you God that I can afford a house with heat and blankets and medicine to care for my child. Thank you God that he is getting well. Thank you God. Thank you God. Thank you God.
I sit here in an ER, all by myself. I checked in and realized my wallet is not with me: my husband graciously took pictures of my documentation and the kind folks at the ER let me in.
I am waiting to get my stitches from this morning redone.
They weren’t stitches I was expecting – I ended up getting a biopsy on my finger when I went to the dermatologist.
So distracted was I by the biopsy and to some extent annoyed, that on the way home from the appointment that I didn’t notice that I was doing 70 in a 55 until I passed the cop.
The cop, of course stopped me. He told me he’d got me with laser far exceeding the limit. I smiled sheepishly. When he asked me where I was coming from I showed him my bandaid.
He took my License and insurance back to his squad while I tried to keep from panicking. After what seemed a long time, the kind officer told me told me that he had no idea why he felt compelled to do so, that he was letting me off with a warning. I thanked him profusely and pushed onward.
Tonight I dragged myself to the gym even though I didn’t want to go. I made commitments I wanted to keep: I wanted to be a trooper. I worked hard but tried to be smart about it – that said, I don’t know how but I busted my stitches wide open. After failed attempts on the way home from the gym to McGuyver the wound and leaving my husband home with the kids at 10:30 at night I left to go to ER.
There was a time I would be angry and impatient and yelling at something like this: there was a time I would naturally conclude the world conspired against me.
- I had a car to drive to the doctor,
- I had money to pay for the doctor,
- An officer showed me mercy when I did not deserve it,
- The ER let me in without ID or question,
- My husband ran around and took pictures of all my information and sent it to me without complaint,
- Someone is going to take care of this hand eventually, and
- Of everyone here I am in the least discomfort with plenty of entertainment. My ouchie is more embarrassing than painful. I’m not the helplessly watching mom with the violently ill little girl who is crying between bouts of vomit.
- The doctors didn’t laugh at me or my Rudolph band-aid.
Thank you, I am just fine. God is taking care of me. Some nice nurse just brought me a warm blanket. And I don’t mean to sound Hallmark-y but I’ll take the ER any day as long as my kiddos are safe and warm in the home I will eventually return to sometime in the next few hours. I will have a comfortable bed to sleep in once I get there when for some the ER cots are luxury.
I will count my blessings today and call out my miracles when I see them…and be grateful that I DO see them, everywhere, not the least of which in my own perspective.
2015 was an amazing year for me in many ways. It was, as all years are, imperfect. But the most life-changing and best parts of this last year all really stem from the changes in my mind and my perspective.
To put it simply, my whole world has changed for the better, and it had nothing to do with external circumstance though I believe it is changing them too.
Some of the credit for this goes to falling into some of the following books at some of the most-needed times. They honestly just showed up when I needed to read them most!
If you are going through a tough time, maybe find the world to be more negative than positive, or maybe even just find yourself wanting desperately for your life to be better or even just to believe that it can, here are a few suggestions.
Some of these I listened to as audio books so I could re-listen on my drive to work or while I was doing other things. Others I read first and then downloaded audio. I make it a point to keep listening.
Keep in mind, I have had a strong history of skepticism, negativity, and a tendency to cringe at what seems hokey or overly optimistic. I suggest you adopt an attitude of suspension of belief. Just listen. Be open. Take in what you can and leave the rest.
The Secret by Rhonda Byrne – A little cheesy via audio but worth it.
- The Power of I Am by Joel Osteen . This was a stretch for me: I am particularly suspicious of good-looking, perfect-haired individuals. But this one called to me. It continues to do so and have started listening to the podcasts too.
It is my goal in life to share anything that I find good and helpful for me: the world is filled with amazing people that don’t realize they are amazing. The world is filled with broken spirits. I am imperfect but healing. I want to share that. So if you find this useful, please feel free to pass it on.
May your 2016 be far more than anything you can possibly imagine and beyond. I wish you healing, contentment and a renewed sense of who you are and what you have to give!
Today I got to see the new Star Wars movie with my husband and children, MIL, and perhaps coolest of all, with my father, the guy took me to very first Star Wars movie…a long long time ago in a galaxy far away.
As I get older these moments with Dad become ever precious. He’s still my hero. Yes, he grumbles. Yes, he can be horribly inappropriate and we disagree on major points of philosophy. We fight. We’re both opinionated as hell. I’m way too much like him actually: way too naturally cynical and prone to drama. I drive him a little crazy I’m sure!
But he’s my dad, there is nothing he wouldn’t do for me, and I am old enough to greedily want any moments of his time he is able to spare…even if it requires bribing him with movie tickets or dinner.
It’s not always easy to accept those we love as they are, where they stand, good and bad. But life is a lot sweeter when we can, and if we are smart enough to realize it we waste a lot less precious, precious time.
And watching my son sit on Papa’s lap during the scarier louder parts…that’s a memory I wouldn’t trade for the world and a blessing I won’t soon forget.
May the Force be with you and yours tonight and may you hold them closely.
‘Twas the Day After Christmas and all through the house,
Lay scattered torn papers the size of a mouse,
And half-opened toys and food on the table,
And piles of stuff everywhere I haven’t quite able
Figured out where to put, or with how I will cope,
With all of the ribbons and boxes and pieces…instead,
I’ll take me some NyQuil and head back to bed.
The Holidays and Christmas time can be overwhelmingly difficult for many. Filled with emotions good and bad, memories and ever increasing expectations, it is a lot to try and process on multiple levels. Not everyone has the blessings of a … Continue reading
I was blessed with dinner with my two best friends the other night. We’re not technically spring chickens but still pretty fabulous.
Our parents however, well they are getting to that age where we start worrying about them, parts start falling off etc. We learn what real worry and fear is. We get scared. We have bad dreams.
It’s easy to fall into that trap of almost continual panic and waiting for that shoe to drop.
I got to see my parents today. I got to hug my mom. I got to have dinner with my dad. Yes, each is utterly crazy, and both are stubborn as hell but I love them both with all I have.
Just for today I’m going to choose to focus on the blessing of having my parents. I am going to put my energies towards loving them. I am pulling on the bonds that bind us. I’m believing I can make up for a childhood of transgressions and focus on making them know how much I love and appreciate them. I want them to know how proud I am and that I know how much they’ve given me.
The fears are empty, the anxieties are useless: instead I will focus on joy.
It took slightly longer than getting to January 1 to get myself back on the health wagon and drag my butt to the gym. I did, in fact, have to trick myself by scheduling a swimming assessment for my children to force myself back into the building.
Humbly, I looked around at the swank gym, purposeful people moving about their healthy habits and sighed a little: the return walk of shame after you haven’t stepped into a gym in two months isn’t fun, moving a little slower, gym pants tighter, ass just a trifle jigglier.
To make it more fun I had to get into a bathing suit – but I survived.
Today I got on the treadmill and did a slow walk. As I sit here I am drinking my orange, apple, kale, romaine smoothie with dynamic greens thrown in for dinner contemplating what I am going to do differently this time.
This time I am going full balls-out faith. That sounds a little off but I am going with it: Just for today I am going to believe the universe wants me healthy and that my body is conspiring as we speak to excommunicate the 100 extra pounds I am carrying and no longer need to hide me. I am going to do the work and take the steps and believe my body wants this health as much as I do.
Most of all I am going to overcome this subconscious mind that has developed the belief system that I cannot do this. I am going to quash the judging inner voices that tell me I am not good enough and don’t deserve this.
I may be crawling toward my new body but crawl I will until I can run and sprint and fly so fast that out comes the beautiful, slim, powerful woman I am on the inside who no longer has time or energy for her gooey outer shell.
I am a butterfly and this cocoon no longer protects but suffocates and I want to fly free and soar right out of my Nikes.
I’m not just back on the wagon; I’m gonna kick that bitch over and use it for a launch pad.