First of all...thank you. To those of you who have asked why this sad little site has been so neglected for the past several months...thank you. Thank you for caring enough about not only this site, but, more importantly, me. You know me well enough to know that if I'm not writing there's a reason, and I suppose you're correct. Although, I can't give you a specific reason...other than that the thoughts, the words, just haven't come. Sure, they pop in and out of my head in stops and starts, but never with any real substance or depth. I've been scattered and emotionally drained and, if I'm completely honest, felt I had nothing to offer so I just didn't try. No, no...I'm NOT asking for pity. It's just where I've been...sort of stuck in my head without the ability to process my thoughts and feelings enough to share them or put them to good use. But...as any writer knows...you have to start somewhere, so that's what I'm doing. Starting. Again. Now. I mean...the damn book isn't gonna write itself!
So, here we go... I've never been much of a goal setter. Well, not at all really. But, what I am is candid and honest and transparent because at almost 39 I've decided it's not worth the energy to be anything else. I read Cheryl Strayed and Elizabeth Gilbert and Brene' Brown...all brutally honest and exceptionally real women I admire for those two facts alone. They put it all out there. They face guilt and shame head-on. They dig deep into the gritty ugliness that all relationships are surrounded by in the sheer hope that if we fight hard enough through the shit we come out on the other side with a sense of bravery and complete acceptance that does not exist otherwise. And I agree. Perhaps it's that I crave that type of relationship. Perhaps I long to be fully accepted and loved that completely. To put all my guilt and shame and fear and ugliness on the table and have someone look through it all and tell me I'm just the right amount of "enough". I mean, don't we all long to "fit" just perfectly with someone? I think that comes with a lot of work and dedication. We have to be committed to seeing those in our lives with acceptance and grace. I used to start every morning with the same prayer..."help me to see others as you see them and help others to see You (Jesus) in me". Somewhere along the way I stopped praying....and now I find myself unable, like the words just won't come. And I fear He couldn't hear me even if they did. I know. I know. That's not how it works. But...when it's been a while (sorta like writing), you start to wonder if He's given up on you. Again, I KNOW this isn't how it works, but just like how we KNOW we should or shouldn't do something yet because of our FEELINGS, we go ahead and charge full-steam ahead anyway. Knowing and doing are two very different things. My life is sorta upside down...and I'm working really hard to process some things to get me outta this...funk. I'm hoping that if I start writing again I will get there. Hoping. And praying. I spent a couple really great days in LA a while back and for the first time in years saw a glimpse of the girl I've been missing. I'm fairly certain the weight of the past several years (and by several, I'm gonna go with somewhere around ten with little ups and some really major downs mixed in) has stripped me down and taken some of the best parts of me away. And for a brief couple of days I felt like the old me...no anxiety, no fear, no shame, no guilt, no worries...just me. I felt whole again. I know, it probably sounds dumb, and I'm willing to risk that to somehow find my way back to that completeness permanently. I mentioned during that trip that I hadn't felt that good in years...that he hadn't ever seen me, or known me, like that. I know that getting away was part of it. I know that feeling loved briefly was part of it. I know that being near the ocean was part of it. I know that taking time to just...be still was a lot of it. I found peace on a stretch of beach in southern California and I felt loved and whole. I have been fighting reality for a long time. I've loved people who haven't been able to fully love me. Sure, they've loved me as best they could, but I've ended up feeling as though I wasn't enough, or that I wanted too much. Never the right fit, and, ultimately, no one's fault. As Elizabeth Gilbert says...I see potential in people (men primarily) that may never exist. I WANT more for people than they may ever even want for themselves. It's the perpetual cheerleader in me and it tends to screw me in the end. I love hard and hang on even when I should let go. I see a future that may or may not (okay, given my track record, NOT is clearly the reality) exist. And I want us to be the best versions of ourselves even if we aren't actually there yet. Talk about a false reality. So...I'm learning. The hard way. There are a few things I know...by now we are all broken. But...it's that brokenness that ultimately makes us able to love completely. Just hear me out. You can't know light without darkness. You can't feel joy without pain. So...in the same regard, you have the ability to feel true love after you've felt true heartbreak. We live life in extremes. We feel and love deeply...well, hopefully...and it's this depth that gives way to complete acceptance. At least that's what I think. But, then again, I'm single so I could be full of crap. Either way...it is in our brokenness that we find truth. When we are cracked open we have no choice but to seek out our truest selves. And then...at least in my opinion...we are able to truly love. Again...who am I to give advice on this subject? All I know is, I think life is meant to be shared AND I know I want to feel the way I felt for a couple days in early February again... So, that's where I am. There's more to come. Tune in next time when we'll explore.... I'm kidding. But, really. I'm sure there's plenty to process (cause I'm a hot mess) so come back and we'll see what else I can come up with.
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There are moments that belong to no one else. Memories not shared with anyone, and not because you are alone in those moments, but because the very experience is so great there is no way to share the emotion with anyone else. That is how I felt the night you were born.
Yes, your father was there. And I have no doubt he has very special, specific memories that belong only to him...things we both were there for yet experienced in very different ways. But, as most mothers will most likely contend, there is something about being the one who literally gives you life...something so unbelievable and out of this world that we feel that moment, and the months, days, hours and minutes leading up to your birth with a greater intensity. Your birth by medical standards was nothing extraordinary. Yet, twelve years have passed and I remember the details of that night with blurred clarity sharpened immensely by the feelings and emotions surrounding each detail. Fear...pain...disbelief...excitement...anticipation... Okay. Let's be honest...I was terrified in the most incredible way. To this day I can't see a can of chicken and rice soup without being moved back to a hospital room where I sat alone for a few moments and came face to face with the realization that I was about to not only meet you, but that I was going to become a mother and I knew there was no turning back. I had dreamed of you, had pictured your little face. I felt certain I would know you once I met you, yet had no idea there would be a "grace period" where we would have to work to get to know one another. Much of the night passed with little excitement. You went easy on me overall. The surprise was how quickly you came. The doctors were certain you would take much longer, but in what would become your usual fashion, you came in your own time, in your own way making an entrance only someone so tiny could manage. Amid my exhaustion, they laid you on my chest and I saw you for the first time. Honestly, I remember little of this moment, but I know it happened and ultimately I know my arms were the first to hold you. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but I will never forget the first time they handed you to me all wrapped up with that little hat on your tiny head...I knew you...in that very moment I knew you...you were the face from my dreams, the baby I had longed to meet, the tiny person who had been kicking and stretching inside of me all those months...and I was in love. At 4:55am, on a cold and icy morning...you made me a mother. For the past 11years I have woken up at that very time and I expect tonight to be no different. In a matter of seconds I was forever changed. You were, and still are, fierce and determined. You dream big and love hard. You never wanted to be far from me and I am thankful that remains to this day. You make me laugh in ways no other can. I am proud of the girl you are and the young lady you are becoming. Your interests are many and varied and I can't wait to see what you accomplish next. We've shared many more moments that no one else treasures as I do...most of which I keep tucked deep in my heart to pull out when I need reminded of my place here in this world. You inspire me to be better. You humble me and you encourage me. I love that in many ways we continue to learn and grow together. As I fall asleep tonight I'm certain my visions will be of that cold January night when I fought hard through each contraction knowing that with each one I was closer to meeting you. And as you turn 12 in the early morning hours, I pray you will know the love that surrounds you. You, my girl, are my greatest accomplishment...being your mommy is my greatest adventure...and watching you become whoever you are meant to be brings me the greatest joy. New Year's Eve...a night typically filled with parties, dancing and champagne toasts at midnight laced with nostalgic, and sometimes painful, memories of a year gone by. We reflect and assess, taking stock of the past 365 days and often many of the years before. We look back at choices and decisions, admonishing ourselves for negative outcomes and questioning the what if's, the could have been's and the should have's. We take inventory of the successes however large or small and remember moments both sweet and bittersweet.
NYE, for me, has always been an emotion-filled day with the memories and dreams coming on stronger as the night wears on. Tonight is no exception. There will be no champagne toast, no party, no dancing, no romantic dinner, no midnight kiss. Tonight, I am sharing the holiday with my mom and sisters in a delux room at KU Med where S has been for the past few days. The news isn't good and our moods are somber with little room, or want, for the overdone hype that accompanies every New Year's countdown. Tonight we are each lost in our own thoughts...immersed in our devices, searching for the mindless comfort that comes from a small screen. For each of us the year has brought change. I refuse to speak to the emotional weight the others are carrying, but it's safe to say we are all filled with more than a small amount of worry and grief for circumstances laid before us with an ever-increasing certainty. I am yet again reminded that life is short, that we only get one go round...that it's the people who matter, and little else...and that all we can do is live our own truth, however difficult that may be. The images of the past year appear in my mind as a slideshow...much I am proud of, some I wouldn't mind forgetting but each hold a special place no matter how blurred the edges may be. In 2015.... I bought my very own home...attended my 20th class reunion...buried my beloved dog, Charlie...I got to see the Rolling Stones in concert and saw first-hand just how great Mick's moves really are...I got dressed up and danced all night at more than one fancy event...I gained an even greater appreciation for a good glass of wine and the healing power of a cocktail shared with a good friend...I continued to weave the ever-changing maze of raising a pre-teen and found myself face-to-face with questions and scenarios I'm certain I wasn't ready for...I took that same incredible girl to her first big concert, and watched with complete joy as she sang along to every word...I learned more about the depths of love and the lengths one will go to show it even when words aren't possible...I've been humbled and encouraged, reminded gently that the world does not, in fact, revolve around me...I've seen people rise above their pasts and I've witnessed others fall victim to the demons they are unable to outrun...I've laughed and I've cried...I've learned the importance of knowing what gives me energy and am working to eliminate the things that drain it...I taught my 11 year old how to work her locker combination and say back and watched her navigate the scary new world of middle school...I continue to realize my weaknesses and flaws and constantly pray to rise above them all...I'm learning the power of true and complete forgiveness, for others and for myself...and I took on a sweet puppy named Gracie who is filling the void left by Charlie in ways I couldn't imagine. I don't do resolutions or regrets. There are things I wish I had handled differently, and find myself less than proud of the impatience and anxiety I allow to rule my emotions all too often. But mostly I am thankful. The slideshow is full of things that brought me joy. There was no great vacation, but there were long summer days by the pool and nights spent bowling with friends. There were meals at my favorite restaurants with people I love dearly. There were projects on my new little house and a housewarming party so perfect I couldn't have wished for anything more. So, tonight as I close out 2015 I am certain I am right where I'm supposed to be. There will be more NYE with parties and champagne and silly little hats. One night defines nothing...it is merely page 365 in this year's book. I am looking forward...to 39...to life with my soon-to-be 12 year old...to raising our sweet puppy...to time spent with people rather than a small screen...to taking better care of myself physically, spiritually and mentally...and to toasting many things over the next 365 days with those of you I love so dearly. So long 2015...Happy New Year!!! It hit me today that I love the holiday season, but that the actual day of Christmas makes me sad. I love all of the preparations and parties, all of the time spent with people I don't see very often, the cards and gifts, the way everything that will look cold and dead in a few weeks looks magical while lit up with twinkle lights. I am encouraged by the spirit, lifted by the generosity. I find myself nostalgic and introspective, looking for meaning in places I may otherwise overlook. I seek the Child even when I've been blind to His grace most of the year. I reach for the familiar and crave tradition constantly trying to create memories that I so desperately need to carry me from year to year. I remember Christmases past...caramel corn, peanut brittle and fudge made so lovingly by my mom and grandmothers...Chrismas morning "rules" I've carried from my childhood and others I've made up as I go along.
There is a sense of joy that comes from seeing friends and family if only for moments. A best friend who will travel with her family across the country whose hug can literally erase miles and time. Families take a break from all the crap if only for a moment to remember the real reason behind all the shopping, stockings and National Lampoon movies. We reminisce the past, embrace the present and look forward to the future with optimism and excitement. For a few weeks we toast co-workers and friends, seeing only the good and momentarily forgetting the bad. I love a full calendar. Parties and events, reasons to get dressed up, champagne and promises. I become more mindful, more thankful...more...lonely. Yes...I am human, and real...and when it's all said and done, I find myself feeling lonely. Christmas Day most of all. I find myself longing for something...what, I'm not entirely sure. It's a combination of the let down I feel when vacation is over and the dream of what I want it to be...it's just a day, like any other...yet, somehow, we build it up to be so much more. I think we try to make one day make up for all the other crappy ones from throughout the year. We set standards we can never live up to and wind up disappointed when the reality doesn't even come close. It's not about the gifts. It's about the people, the magic and the spirit. It's about sharing the day with those we love yet remembering it is just a day...it may be Christmas, but Christmas could be any day and we put too much emphasis on one 24 hour period. It's about carrying the joy beyond December 25th. I want more this year. More of the people I love. More laughter. More remembering. More memories. More champagne and fudge. More grace. More love. More forgiving. It may not happen, but I'm sure gonna try. Is it just me, or are we wasting ridiculous amounts of energy on absolutely pointless things like the color of coffee cups? Do we really need the message of Christmas to be splattered across our disposable cup of Caramel Macchiato in order to know the reason for the season?
And, to be completely honest, (warning: stop reading now if you are easily offended or sensitive because I am on a roll tonight) I do not care about what is going on at MU...especially after the poor way things were handled once the protesters got their way. Come, you can't beg for media attention then ask journalists to just stop telling the story. I am a firm believer that equality matters, but...wait for it...I see firsthand every single (yes...every one of them) stereotype proven and in seeing such live and in person, I have become a bit cynical and only have this to say: if you want people to see you as more, do better...be better. I'm not saying that's what has happened in Columbia, but I do think it happens everyday in many situations. What I do care about is living a life that matters if only in the smallest of ways. I see and hear hard things...as many of you do...and the only thing that keeps me going is trusting that what I do makes a difference. I promise, this is not some narcissistic post about all the good I do with the need to hear some sort of praise. Not at all. What it is, is a plea to ask you to think about what matters. I don't know about you, but everywhere I turn I am bombarded with news and posts and photos of grief and loss and sickness...of life and death...of things that really matter. Of people...many of which are children...who don't have the luxury of bitching about stupid coffee cups or (yep, I'm going there) the poor execution of a social situation that has now garnered more negative publicity for Missouri. I spoke at a church last week after feeling really warn down. I was questioning whether I was doing enough, and if it really mattered and then the preacher reminded us to "never tire of doing the good work" (2 Thessalonians something). He spoke of mortality being the great equalizer...did you hear that? We are all gonna die. No matter what color our skin, or what we believe in...in the end, what matters is who we were...the quality of life we lived. He then asked if we felt we were being good stewards of the time we've been given and that one hit me pretty hard. What if you knew you had maybe just hours left? I don't know about you, but I can guarantee my focus would shift more than a bit. I guess what I'm getting at is, do you really want to waste time and energy on things like a seasonal marketing decision by a coffee company or do you want to give all you have to those around you? I suppose we could carry this over to Donald Trump and "politics", but I'm not gonna waste energy on that. ;) Time is fragile...it holds us hostage in one instance yet sets us free the next. We find ourselves at its mercy and beg for it to speed up or slow down, sometimes all at once. There is no countdown, no record of days telling us what we have left...nothing other than the premature death of a loved one, a dear friend, a co-worker...even a stranger, to remind us to stop wishing for more or less, anything other than what we have right now. It's the blinding greed that comes with unknown loss...it protects us from so much, yet keeps us from even more.
This morning I watched the KC fire chief give a press conference covering last night's death of two brave firemen and as I watched him struggle through the names, as he shared the brief, yet very human, details..."husband, son, father of four small girls, leaving behind many friends and family"...I found myself thinking of so much. Those men risked their lives with every shift yet I'm guessing they never imagined last night would truly be the end. Their families sent them to work like any other day, yet it would be one unlike any other for all of them. Lives forever changed. And I have no doubt time stood still as it does in those unimaginable moments. In my garage stands a piece of furniture I have always loved, a secretary that stood in the corner of my Gran and Pop-Pop's living room my entire life. It belonged to her Aunt Anna...it even says "Personal Property of Anna Hussey, 1951" on the back...and then was passed on to Gran. She filled it with family treasures: high school diplomas, family photos, the readers she and her twin sister learned to read with, heirloom china and my dad's letters from his two tours in Vietnam. I used to love looking through its drawers; pouring over artifacts that told me stories more interesting to me than any book or movie, digging through letters that depicted a young man who left for war talking mostly of his '67 Mustang before the horrors of a world I can't even imagine changed him. I knew she placed important things in that cabinet, and as I ran my hands over its curves and inhaled the musty smell of my Pop-Pop's pipe smoke, I felt her hands there knowing she had touched those same curves, opened those very same drawers...and I cried because after all this time I still missed her beyond measure. I know part of why I miss her so is because I wish I had said and done more those last few years. I regret little, but not making...time...thinking I was too busy when I knew she wasn't going to live forever...that...that I regret. We make time for things and people who ultimately do not matter. We waste opportunities and give time we do not have to causes we don't really care about. And then we look back with regret and say we won't let that happen again... We vow to say what we mean. We promise to show those who matter how important they are to us. We say we won't commit to more than we can handle and we swear we won't sacrifice precious...time...with those we love most for those who matter least. But we always do. Time passes and we fall back into our old ways. Because we are human and we always think there will be more...time. I could repeat all the cliches, restate the cheesy lines but, in my opinion, all that matters is this...surround yourself with people you love, live with intention, find people who support your purpose, live a life you're proud of, don't wait to say something you feel now, give more than you think you should, try not to be bitter, believe in magical moments, have faith, extend more grace than necessary, look for the good in everyone, judge gently, offer a hand when needed, remember that grudges only hurt you, silence speaks louder than many words, egos are fragile, we all long to be loved as we are, and "what if" is only a good thing if the opportunity hasn't already passed. We only get one shot at this. No matter the number of years, the moments can only be measured by the amount of life lived within them. I remember once when M was about six and was terribly upset about something and cried openly, without reservation, giving in to her pain without worrying about who could hear her or what she looked like as only young children do and I thought to myself, "when do we stop crying out loud?" That same little girl got her heart broke for the first time a few days ago and I'm watching her struggle through the painful messiness that comes with a break up...no matter what the age...and I see the ways she is hurting inside, trying to be brave and strong yet working hard to navigate all of the ickyness she is feeling for what is certain to be the first of many heartaches...and I realized I would take the outward tears over the stoic internalizing I'm watching currently. See...it used to be I could fix it...my words, my hugs, my security were enough. I miss those days. Back then I knew she was okay...even when she cried. Now, I don't know what she's thinking, what she's feeling and I hate it. I know she thinks I have no idea what she's going through, that I can't possibly understand and I get that, but no matter how old we get, heart break is the same and, sadly, it never gets any easier. And, maybe even more so, I'm desperately dreading the wedge the next few years are going to drive between us. She is growing up, and while it's painfully beautiful to watch, I want to protect her from all the things I know are there to hurt her. I want her to know life is short and love, even with inevitable heart ache, is worth it. I want her to be brave and strong yet cautious and empathetic. I want her to see people from the inside out and to not fear feeling everything...the good...and the bad...because without the bad we can never truly and completely feel and enjoy the good. I was asked the other day if I ever really loved my ex-husband. I replied with "Yes, I believe I loved him as best I could at that point in my life." I'm fairly certain I've not said a more honest statement about that very real, very difficult, very painful part of my life. I have always loved easy. To me, that's the easy part. It's all the other stuff that junk the loving up...trust, compatibility, shared values, dreams of what you each want your life to look like, family drama, compromise over all of the above...those things complicate the love, BUT...those things also have the ability (with patience) to take simplistic love to a whole new, deeper level. We are each very complex individuals searching to fill some very basic needs: acceptance, valued, wanted, chosen, cherished, trusted, safe...loved. The problem is, we fall in love young trusting that an emotion will be enough to sustain us without really taking a look at what we want for our life and whether or not the object of our undying affection truly fits into that equation. We most likely haven't really lived at that point which is part of what makes that love feel so special...we aren't carrying the weight of our emotional, six-piece set of Samsonite with us yet. We aren't comparing and weighing out the odds. We are simply loving. I was no different. My life had been fairly simple up to the point at which I met my ex-husband. And, in my mind, (to credit the "pleaser" that I am) I was doing it all "right"...graduate high school, go to college, meet a great guy, graduate college engaged, get married, but a house, have a baby... Picture perfect in my mind. But, I knew little about life and all the junk it was gonna throw at us, much less how much I was going to be shaped by some of what I went through. I wasn't mature enough to truly compromise. I could love, but I'm not sure I knew what all that meant (included) at that point in my life. Was I in love? Very much. Was I selfish? Sure, still am in many ways. Did I put my happiness above his? In the end, yes. Is that still a hard thing to admit? You bet. But...I can look back at the past seven years, at everything I've been through since my marriage, and not only am I much more honest with myself about what life looks like, but I also have a much better understanding of what I want/need out of it (alone or with someone) and what I am capable of giving. I understand now that love isn't just an emotion, that it takes real work but that's actually the part that makes it so worth it if two people are both ready and willing to give it all they've got. I am reading Amy Poehler's book, "Yes Please". I love her candid honesty. She says she wants to get in deep with people, that she loves the richness of people over 40, that she has so much more to offer anyone in her life now that she's lived and she encourages people to "continue sharing your heart even if it's been broken"...she's my kinda girl and I really wish we could grab and drink and hang out. Back to where this all started...I loved as best I could at that point in my life... Maya Angelou said, "Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." I would like to believe that I am able to love (anyone, not just romantically) much better, with more depth and understanding...that I am better able to understand the positive ways compromise can benefit the relationships that matter...that I can see someone with all of THEIR "stuff" and meet them right where they are, loving them in the ways they need...that I can be more forgiving of someone else's shortcomings and better able accept my own. I do believe we are all doing the best we can...with what we have, where we are, at this moment. The thing is...we can't ever stop growing. I guess what I'm hoping for at this point in my life are relationships that are rich and deep...full of conversations that don't ignore the depth of life...love that takes everything to the next level...without reservation and fear of all the "what if's, could have's, should have's" that tend to plague even the best relationships. The way I see it, we can't undo the past (not that I would want to), and we only get one shot at this thing we call life. I want to take everything I've learned (because if not wouldn't it all be in vain?) and live, and love, the best I can...at THIS point in my life. 3:45. A.M. Seems like a perfectly reasonable time to wake up...if YOU'RE A ROOSTER! After tossing and turning for an hour, with my thoughts racing, finally landing on this...my little blog...and the embarrassing neglect I've shown it the past four months. It's not that I've had nothing to say. More so that I've had too much to say which causes me to not be able to focus my thoughts well enough to actually get them down so I push them aside. But, the past few weeks, it's become more and more hard to ignore the words swirling round and round in my mind and this morning I'm fairly certain I was woke up so early with the overwhelming nagging feeling that I couldn't ignore this app (and what putting my thoughts down on it means) any longer. But, I left my computer at work last night so I'm stuck writing for the first time in four months on my PHONE. I'm gonna go ahead and liken that to a bad case of PMS with no chocolate anywhere within a three state radius...look, I thought about using "sexual frustration" instead, but...well, you get the point At this point, I feel like it's been so long that I don't know where to start...like catching up with an old friend...you know, that rush you feel as you find yourself tripping all over yourself trying to share everything yet finding yourself holding back because you feel like most of it isn't really important or worth sharing? Yeah, I feel just like that. So, a few things...I bought a house! Yep, my very own. I bought two with M's dad years ago, but neither of those experiences felt a thing like the pride I found myself filled with the day I signed my papers on July 17th. And, one minor freak out aside, I have loved every minute of these past seven weeks. Honestly, I never believed I would (translation: could) do this. Barring all self-doubt, I took a huge leap of faith and trusted God to lead us wherever He wanted us to be...and after the way it all turned out, I have no question He used this experience to remind me He's got me and that no matter how much time I spend "away" from Him, He's there. Okay, what's next...hmmmm...I turned 38. I woke up in my little home the morning of my "late 30's" (whoever thought it was a good idea to use that term needs to be shot) and found myself at peace (for the most part) with where I am at this point in my life. M started sixth grade. Middle school. Need I say more? Although, we live literally one block from her school so that not only reminds me of my childhood (we grew up a block from the elementary school/jr. high and across the street from the high school), but it's also super convenient. Time will tell how we fare this next phase...fingers crossed we both make it out alive. Pause for coffee break...with this little home purchase, I have a two-car garage and found myself down there with my two living room end tables and a can of chalk paint last Saturday night (big night, I know)...I've never been one for projects and am NOT crafty, but I wanted them to look different (the verdict is still out as to whether we will be able to use the term "better") so I went for it. I put the coat of wax on them last night while a couple of missionaries and a neighbor stopped by...I digress...point being, I have nowhere to set my much-needed coffee cup this ridiculously early morning. What else? See what I mean? I can go months with nothing to say yet find myself feeling like I have little to share out of my desire to not waste your time and, more so, my need to say something of value. What do you want to know? Is there a guy? Yes... He, and his support the past few months, mean the world to me. Work? I still serve the working poor of Clay County via Hillcrest Hope. There is no way to express the ways I'm impacted by the work I do and the people I meet. It is similar to parenting...challenging beyond belief, yet rewarding beyond measure. I have been changed by the things I've experienced there and pray daily that God uses me to be His hands, His words, His arms to the men, women and children who walk through my door. The one thing I've been hit with (you know how that works...you think about something a little then you find yourself almost consumed with thoughts about whatever that is until you do something about it) is my desire to travel...to see the world...hell, at this point I just want to get back to the beach. It's true...the world is meant to be explored, enjoyed...and, we learn so much about life by traveling and seeing how other people live. I love the anticipation of a trip, and the feeling of coming home. So, I have to do something about that. I have a multitude of opinions on things happening in the news...there have been so many things...sadly, most of which is less than good, and I've almost written about my thoughts on them, but then I think, what's the point? Who really cares how little I care about Caitlyn Jenner (but, while we're at it, no, I don't think she's a hero - at all. A hero gives something for someone else without asking for anything in return. There is no way to convince me that any part of what she has done falls into that category. Although, I'm happy she's living the life she wants, but that does not, by any stretch of the imagination, make her a hero.) or how offended I am that we waste so many precious resources talking about her rather than bringing to light things that really matter? Add to that my thoughts about the KSU marching band debacle or the Duggars fiasco...and don't even get me started on police brutality. Here's the thing...I'm just gonna say it...trash comes in every color, every shape, size and nationality...and it's a shame we, as educated, civilized people, give it/them so much power by sensationalizing every stupid thing in the media. Be better, people. If you don't want others to believe the stereotypes, don't BE the stereotype. Whew. Okay, that was a lot. I need more coffee and my pointer finger is tired (typing all of this with one finger is hard!) If I've offended you, don't come back. If you want the truth...well, as I see it so I guess that really makes it more of an opinion...come on back. I have more stories, more opinions and more...I would like to say "inspiration", but at this point I feel like that's a stretch. Really it's just rambling stories and my thoughts on whatever crosses my mind at any given time. For those of you who are here...thank you. Having words to share means nothing without someone to read them. Monday morning truths...
Many of my clothes are tight...okay, some don't fit at all, including a pair of jeans I previously loved that won't even think of going over my hips. I know, I know...I needed to gain a little weight and to anyone else it's only a few pounds, but once your (my) clothes don't fit right (ahem, feel tight), the insecurity creeps in and all you (I) can focus on is whether or not I look fat or if my pants are too tight. Which leads to truth number two... As I get older, I realize I am vain...something I'm not the least bit proud of, but as I find my body changing, my vanity is becoming much more prevalent. Example...I have always loved my neck, it's perhaps the only long thing on my body, and recently I find myself examining it carefully, looking for signs that it's starting to sag (yes...yes, it is). If you catch me touching my neck, maybe even wincing as I do...please judge me gently. I am simply trying to hold onto a fragment of my fleeting youth combined with the urge to fight my increasing self-consciousness and ever-looming fear that as I start "looking" closer to my real age my chances of becoming an old spinster go up exponentially. I finally made up my mind to buy a house. What's the truth in that, you ask? For me, it's admitting that in making this decision, I have many fears. Doing this alone, while many do it all the time, is scary. And...it's just not something I ever thought I would be doing alone. But, I've been single a long time and that doesn't appear to be changing anytime soon so it's time to make a change for myself. I am constantly playing the ping-pong game inside my head; tossing questions, fears, what if's and the like back and forth with no end in sight to the uncertainties and ultimate desire to see some neon light that will help me know for sure I'm making the right decision. With a pre-teen comes the constant reminder that I know nothing. While I can SAY I know it's not personal, what I FEEL is much different. In a matter of what feels like minutes, I have gone from the person she thought knew everything...the one with all the answers, her go-to expert on everything...to someone who must be a complete idiot because with every eye roll, every "nevermind, Mom", every "I'll just ask my friend" I feel a little piece of my intelligence die right alongside my self-esteem. Sigh. Yes, I know this is normal. Yes, I know I'm not really stupid. Yes, I know she doesn't mean to hurt my feelings. Yes, I know I'm still the same person I was before she decided to grow up. Yes, I know this is all part of life. But...but, that doesn't mean I like it or that I'm okay with it or that it doesn't hurt or make me question whether or not I maybe don't know anything anymore. Parents who have survived raising pre-teens/teens...I have no doubt you understand exactly what I'm talking about. Parents of children who are still young and who still think you can do no wrong...cherish it. Enjoy every single exhausting moment. And, lastly, something that has been swirling around and around in my head for days... Are any of us truly where we thought we would be at this point in our life? As I've started the house hunt, I am forced to admit that based on my budget, I am back to looking at what for most people is a starter home but what will, for me, be a long-term home. I'm forced to make many concessions - not that I have super high standards or that I need that much, but as I looked at my first few homes I couldn't help but be hit with this reality. No, I'm not looking for any consolation. It's fine, really it is. I have no doubt we will find the perfect little home for M and I. It's just that I am now thinking all of that through...is this really where I thought my life would be at 37 almost 38? And, if not, what on earth would I have different? I have a job I love, great friends, a healthy, thriving child...I have so much to be thankful for - and I am, please don't get me wrong about that - I just think a lot and making this big decision is forcing me to do even more of that. So, I guess the question isn't "am I where I thought I'd be?", but rather "what do I want my life to look like from this point on?" That seems more manageable and realistic. I am not brave. I live a small life. My constant goal is to be brave and to always be kind. I love to be the cheerleader for those I love, but as I find myself struggling with some of these things, I find myself needing some of that myself. It's the little things in life...small surprises, thoughtful reminders that we matter, words of encouragement when we need them, finding joy in the otherwise simple things... I'm trying to be more mindful of all of that, to DO more of that...to live a life of intention rather than of happenstance. Maybe THAT is where I should focus my truth.... |