Recently, I received a very nice phone call from a friend wishing me a Happy Birthday a day or so early because she is the kind of person who not only thinks "I should do that..." but she also does it. She has never failed to be an encourager, positive about anything I'm trying to do, interested in what is going on in my life, and a true friend. She also reminded me that our group that met once a month for two years after our children graduated needs to get together. After the first one was planned, I became the unofficial instigator of such because I tend to be pretty good about keeping a calendar and it took a whopping five minutes a month to send out the reminder e-mails.
Then life started intervening and we had to cancel a couple of times. Our large group trickled down to just a few. More time passed. And then it was finally just a distant memory.
Now we just look back fondly on those lunches where we got to keep up with what was going on. Oh, we talk about it...but we don't plan it. And I - as the keeper of the e-mails - let down the community. Until last week...when I sent another one out. It has been nearly two years since we last went to lunch...but by gosh...we're going...even if it means I'm dining alone.
Except I won't be because a couple of them have already e-mailed that they are planning to be there. Yes!
I love the sense of community. Of feeling a part of something. Interacting with people.
Believe it or not, I score pretty much on the line between "introvert" and "extravert" on the Myers-Briggs tests. I love people, but don't particularly gain energy from being around folks. Facebook is really ideal for me because I can plug in when I want and can communicate in writing. It's why I prefer e-mail to the phone at work, and why I love sending and receiving cards and letters.
But sometimes, you just have to see people and enjoy their company.
Like yesterday...when I had lunch with a good friend who always cracks me up. She knows my heart, so I don't have to filter anything. I can be "tacky" and she knows I'm just venting. Or I can say what I really mean instead of cloaking it in such a manner that I don't come across as being kind and politically correct. I can filter things through her when I'm fired up and she'll tell me if I need to take it down a notch or pour it on. She's one of the first people I want to tell when something great happens or something that is so hideous that it will make her laugh at the sheer awfulness of it. Yes, misery loves company, but there are times when we are thrust into something that is so bad that it actually becomes hilarious. She gets that. So do I.
Community is something that some of us take for granted. Maybe our family is all of the community we need. Or simply rephrased...all we can stand. Perhaps we spend so much time at work that the people there become not only our co-workers...but our friends.
Church is an excellent place to plug into a community...be it a Sunday school class, a ladies group, or serving in a specific ministry.
It may be the gym that you find your community, or the internet, or your high school girlfriends. It could be people who share mutual interests (i.e. choir, community service, a running group, your sorority alumnae group) or because you live in close proximity.
Doesn't matter.
What matters is that you are interacting with other people...because it is there that you find your mission field and your purpose for being here.
I know that there are times when I've felt on the outside of things. I don't get the inside jokes. I have no idea what happened to certain people I knew when I was young because - hey - it's been over 30 years since they crossed my mind. Sometimes I'm turned off by one person in the community who annoys me for some reason...or I do the same to them. That's life. And it is rarely enough to keep me from attempting to interact.
When we go through the busy years...which I loosely define as "when you have children living at home" - you'll find that you tend to gravitate toward other people in the same boat as you. Your friends become those who sit on the bleachers with you, are trying to put together a Pilgrim costume with no sewing skills whatsoever (just like you), or those that you sit and chat with at the dozens of birthday parties that seem to go on for years and years.
And then the kids graduate...and you might run into each other in the local Publix, on jury duty, or in passing. You might say, "let's do lunch soon..." or "I miss seeing you!" or even catch each other up as to which of your kids is doing what and how they are doing.
Then you walk away and that lunch date never happens...and you don't cross each other's mind until your next chance meeting. Rinse and repeat.
I think that most of us have people in our lives that we know were just there for a season. To raise the children together or to learn a new skill set. To be there for each other at a critical juncture and then to kind of ebb away and flow toward another community as you grow and change.
Yet, there is a lot of value in keeping those old ties. There is equally a lot of value in being open enough to create new ones.
When you are going through something difficult in life, it makes all of the difference in the world as to whether you have what is deemed a "support network." What that really means is "a community of people who can stand in the gap with you." If you are experiencing joy...like my friend who has a daughter getting married this week...it is that much more wonderful to share it with others.
The older we get, the more open we have to be to some "off-the-wall" communities if we're going to really enjoy life. Some people decide to isolate themselves, others find it impossible to muster up the enthusiasm or the time to interact with others, and yet others are so let down by the path that their lives are on that they are a bit trying to be around. As for me, I'm going to enjoy seeing who God brings into my life. Those to which I can minister and those from which I can learn. I want to be open to having friends from all walks of life.
Because it's fun.
So, go out there today into your communities and just breathe life into those forgotten friendships, and be the friend you would like to have. Support people without reservation, or hesitation, or conditions. Just love those in your path. Quit looking for the perfect "friend group" and instead be the person everyone wants to bring into their circle of friends.
Get up tomorrow...and do it all over again.
Thank you to all of you who read this and support what I write. Who stop me and tell me that they enjoy reading my thoughts. Those who call me and wish me a "Happy Birthday!" or who want to share something funny in their day. Those who invite me to do things I might not think to do on my own. Those who push me to be better, to stay on the right path, and to be a better version of myself. Those who love me in spite of the fact that I'm not perfect...because they don't care. Those who are generous with their time, resources, spirit, love, and affection for my family and for me.
Love you. Mean it.
Have a great day and reconnect. You won't be sorry.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Taxes, Dust, and Flying Time
Last weekend, I did my taxes like a good soldier and only wailed about it for 48 hours. I think that's appropriate. I mean, for a person with a 20 question limit, just dealing with the likes of TurboTax for hours is enough to make one want to do something that seems more enjoyable...like cleaning toilets or wrestling hair out of the tub drain.
That 20 question limit quirk in my personality is due to being raised by an inquisitive female who loves the details of life. She tried desperately to converse with her grumpy, hormonal teenager (ahem, me) by asking questions about everything from the people who were there to the type of food that was served. I used to find it a little intrusive...until I had kids. It is one revealing way that I can most assuredly say that I've turned into my mother. Which, honestly, doesn't bother me in the least.
I'd say that it was awesome to finally get finished with the taxes...and the FAFSA form for Brian (the nightmare of every parent of college-aged children)...but that joy was short-lived. Because after a couple of weeks of just keeping the kitchen clean and letting the rest of it go because it was imperative that I get this paperwork out of my life, my house was (and still is) crying out for attention.
Fortunately, I was (and am) able to ignore it. For the most part, anyway.
I've been spending the past few days trying to get back into my normal cleaning routine...which has clashed mightily with my fervent desire to pick up the pace a bit at the gym. When you come home feeling like you've been in a fight and sweating like it's August in the South, there is nothing less appealing than the prospect of cleaning the bathroom.
Except, perhaps, doing more taxes. Or another FAFSA.
Now that Big Dave and I are empty nesters, the issue isn't so much clutter...as it is dust. For whatever reason, we seem to attract dust, and as soon as I beat it back, the dust fairy comes back by and sprinkles what feels like a garden Hefty bag of it all over my house. Big Dave says that the "dust fairy" is actually named Dixie (and Riley), but this looks like some insidious plot to make me call in the reinforcements.
Merry Maids.
Except who can afford that? Answer: not me. Plus, I don't know if I could handle the embarrassment of having someone else all up in here thinking we're the laziest human beings alive. We're about two weeks away from the annual Spring Cleaning ritual...which can only happen if something totally ticks me off...because I clean like nobody's business when I'm working off angst. The rest of the time? More like the people who clean every office I've ever worked in (which can loosely be described as "half-a er...whatever.")
Other than the two inevitable things in life: dust and taxes...I'm also dealing with something called "muscle soreness." That's normally perceived as evidence that work is being done to move me ultimately toward my goal...the short version of which is "to no longer be morbidly obese and to get out of size OMG." But sometimes Pharrell (my scale) doesn't seem to appreciate all of that effort.
No, I'm not angry with Pharrell right now. He's doing what he's supposed to be doing...measuring my relationship with gravity. And over the past couple of days, the numbers have been headed in the right direction. But every so often, I'll get upset that I'll notice a tick up for a couple of days and have to weed something else out of the garden of choices that remain to me. Last week, it was avocado. I'd been using it with lemon juice to make salad dressing. Apparently, after two days of upticks...I had to realize that daily avocado is not my friend.
Not that it isn't an excellent option for getting fats in my diet. I just can't have it every day. I learned the same thing about potatoes, wheat, and the newest "superfood" - quinoa. Which, honestly, I don't really need to be eating something I can't pronounce anyway.
Enough about all of that.
I have been stunned this week at how fast this year seems to be blowing by...like it is in a hurry to get to 2015 or something. I realize that this is nothing new...the looking up and realizing that it already mid-March...when I just took the Christmas tree down what seems like a month ago. (It was actually two months ago because I was a slacker and left it up somewhere between "fashionably late so I can still enjoy it" and "major fire hazard.")
Before I know it, it will be mid-June and then August and then back to the holidays again. In fact, I received the first message about the annual "Girls of 1981 Beach Trip" yesterday...and in some ways it seems like we just got back. I'm already looking forward to it. I always enjoy them so much...and one year was advised by a roommate that I needed to have the fact that I quit breathing in the night checked out. So, also educational.
Which may explain the dust. I think I've dusted just a few days ago...when in truth...it may have been January since I dragged out the Pledge and attempted to shine everything up. Okay, FINE, it probably actually was. I've been working on these *#@* taxes since February, so it is entirely possible.
So, this week, I'll be trying to make time to do a little bit more around here instead of whining about it. Plus, all of that "moving" has got to help with the muscle soreness, yes? I certainly hope so.
On the downside, I have a lot in front of me. And since I'm easily distracted, I'll probably do something less awful like clean out the spice rack than something that actually needs to be done. I mean, until Dixie writes "dust me" with her paw in the dust on the side table...it's all good, right?
Exactly.
Have a great and productive week...and dust something in my honor. Maybe all of that Pledge in the atmosphere will inspire me. Hope so. :)
That 20 question limit quirk in my personality is due to being raised by an inquisitive female who loves the details of life. She tried desperately to converse with her grumpy, hormonal teenager (ahem, me) by asking questions about everything from the people who were there to the type of food that was served. I used to find it a little intrusive...until I had kids. It is one revealing way that I can most assuredly say that I've turned into my mother. Which, honestly, doesn't bother me in the least.
I'd say that it was awesome to finally get finished with the taxes...and the FAFSA form for Brian (the nightmare of every parent of college-aged children)...but that joy was short-lived. Because after a couple of weeks of just keeping the kitchen clean and letting the rest of it go because it was imperative that I get this paperwork out of my life, my house was (and still is) crying out for attention.
Fortunately, I was (and am) able to ignore it. For the most part, anyway.
I've been spending the past few days trying to get back into my normal cleaning routine...which has clashed mightily with my fervent desire to pick up the pace a bit at the gym. When you come home feeling like you've been in a fight and sweating like it's August in the South, there is nothing less appealing than the prospect of cleaning the bathroom.
Except, perhaps, doing more taxes. Or another FAFSA.
Now that Big Dave and I are empty nesters, the issue isn't so much clutter...as it is dust. For whatever reason, we seem to attract dust, and as soon as I beat it back, the dust fairy comes back by and sprinkles what feels like a garden Hefty bag of it all over my house. Big Dave says that the "dust fairy" is actually named Dixie (and Riley), but this looks like some insidious plot to make me call in the reinforcements.
Merry Maids.
Except who can afford that? Answer: not me. Plus, I don't know if I could handle the embarrassment of having someone else all up in here thinking we're the laziest human beings alive. We're about two weeks away from the annual Spring Cleaning ritual...which can only happen if something totally ticks me off...because I clean like nobody's business when I'm working off angst. The rest of the time? More like the people who clean every office I've ever worked in (which can loosely be described as "half-a er...whatever.")
Other than the two inevitable things in life: dust and taxes...I'm also dealing with something called "muscle soreness." That's normally perceived as evidence that work is being done to move me ultimately toward my goal...the short version of which is "to no longer be morbidly obese and to get out of size OMG." But sometimes Pharrell (my scale) doesn't seem to appreciate all of that effort.
No, I'm not angry with Pharrell right now. He's doing what he's supposed to be doing...measuring my relationship with gravity. And over the past couple of days, the numbers have been headed in the right direction. But every so often, I'll get upset that I'll notice a tick up for a couple of days and have to weed something else out of the garden of choices that remain to me. Last week, it was avocado. I'd been using it with lemon juice to make salad dressing. Apparently, after two days of upticks...I had to realize that daily avocado is not my friend.
Not that it isn't an excellent option for getting fats in my diet. I just can't have it every day. I learned the same thing about potatoes, wheat, and the newest "superfood" - quinoa. Which, honestly, I don't really need to be eating something I can't pronounce anyway.
Enough about all of that.
I have been stunned this week at how fast this year seems to be blowing by...like it is in a hurry to get to 2015 or something. I realize that this is nothing new...the looking up and realizing that it already mid-March...when I just took the Christmas tree down what seems like a month ago. (It was actually two months ago because I was a slacker and left it up somewhere between "fashionably late so I can still enjoy it" and "major fire hazard.")
Before I know it, it will be mid-June and then August and then back to the holidays again. In fact, I received the first message about the annual "Girls of 1981 Beach Trip" yesterday...and in some ways it seems like we just got back. I'm already looking forward to it. I always enjoy them so much...and one year was advised by a roommate that I needed to have the fact that I quit breathing in the night checked out. So, also educational.
Which may explain the dust. I think I've dusted just a few days ago...when in truth...it may have been January since I dragged out the Pledge and attempted to shine everything up. Okay, FINE, it probably actually was. I've been working on these *#@* taxes since February, so it is entirely possible.
So, this week, I'll be trying to make time to do a little bit more around here instead of whining about it. Plus, all of that "moving" has got to help with the muscle soreness, yes? I certainly hope so.
On the downside, I have a lot in front of me. And since I'm easily distracted, I'll probably do something less awful like clean out the spice rack than something that actually needs to be done. I mean, until Dixie writes "dust me" with her paw in the dust on the side table...it's all good, right?
Exactly.
Have a great and productive week...and dust something in my honor. Maybe all of that Pledge in the atmosphere will inspire me. Hope so. :)
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
The Journey
For the past several weeks I have been on the journey to better health and fitness. I realize that the last line just read like something you'd find on the cover of "Shape" and it is a little odd to call something a "journey" when it only involves darkening the door of a gym, but work with me here. I finally came to the end of the excuse making and the whining, the shaking my fist at the thunderous sky, and the regret of the Ghost of Bad Food Decisions.
There were many of those. It took awhile.
If this was indeed a journey, and the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, then you must know that the two inch step onto a scale was the hardest one of the journey. It is one thing to know that you are outgrowing your clothes. It is obvious not only to you, but to everyone around you. But to actually see the extent of the damage is like seeing that Visa bill in January after a big-hearted Christmas buying binge. A little shocking. Some quick denial. Some berating and moaning. Then acceptance.
The number I saw was - thankfully - lower than my worst fear. Not much lower, but lower. It was heavier than any so-called "healthy" female ought to weigh, and there was no longer any wiggle room to do anything my way. My way involved doing really well for a time and then failing. My way was to celebrate everything. My way was to wonder what I'd have for dinner that night because I hadn't planned or defrosted anything and usually meant a stop somewhere on the way home. My way was not getting me anywhere I needed to be.
So, I found somewhere that made sense, received some help and advice from a friend who has walked this path, and then I drove up to the gym.
I suppose I should note that in spite of my weight, I spent the better part of 2013 at the gym. I did an hour of cardio four days a week that involved 30 minutes of an elliptical machine and 30 minutes of a recumbent bike. I did the occasional class. I hit at the weights but didn't advance my weight up as I got stronger. I don't know if it was ignorance, laziness, or the fact that I lost my gym partner (Jill) in July when she transferred to another branch and worked a lot of nights. But somewhere in there, I just gave up the dream of being able to chip away at the poundage.
Basically, I didn't hurt myself, but I didn't really help myself either. Plus, I've since learned that you cannot out-exercise your food. If you aren't losing weight...it isn't the exercise. It is what you are eating. Unless, of course, you are running marathons or something.
I have no immediate plans for that.
Yet. Okay, FINE, ever.
The truth is, I resented having to worry about this at all. I wanted to be free to eat what I wanted, to be free of this extremely large monkey on my back that keeps me from wanting to go to reunions or even see family sometimes. It makes me not care about shopping for clothes because nothing fits well and I'm basically limited to knits in size OMG. I became that person who worries more for the concerns of others because caring for myself just seemed like a lost cause.
Maybe you've been there. Maybe you've just seen folks with weight problems and wondered how they could possibly not want to lose the weight. Perhaps you have someone in your life that you love dearly and cannot seem to convince to put down the potato chips and get off of the couch. I just know that I was lucky enough to have people love me in spite of it, and who prayed and waited for me to come to the conclusion that doing something was mandatory and not optional anymore.
It is difficult sometimes to explain the changes in what I am doing because I'll either launch into a detailed explanation that is more than anyone really wants to know...or I'll keep it close to the vest because I'm still just starting out. But what I'm doing doesn't matter as much as the fact that I'm doing something that doesn't involve drugs, shots, or anything wacko. It is a solid plan that keeps me accountable and so far, it is working.
For years, I have joked about Weight Watchers being "rehab" for me because I'd tried and failed at the program so many times. My first introduction to it was in 1977 at the tender age of 14 years. I lost a few pounds and then got active and it came off. I succeeded once - in 1987 - and actually hit goal, but didn't make it through the maintenance program. The problem was not so much losing weight. It was much deeper than that.
I have unsuccessfully tried to manage food addiction by myself for the past 42 years.
In this day and age, every syndrome and weakness of humankind is called a "disease" or an "addiction" - so bear with me here. There really isn't anything else to call what I've been through and like people addicted to alcohol or drugs, it isn't something that I'll just get over. It is an ongoing project. Although I'm "on the wagon" - so to speak - right now, all it would take is a toe in the water into the realm of some foods that set me off every time, and I'd be back on a spree to regain the poundage that I've lost over the past several weeks.
I'm not kidding. And it's not pretty.
People talk about being addicted to chocolate. For me...that's child's play. I won't even go into my list because it is quite extensive and embarrassing.
And yet, I'm grateful that it is food rather than something worse. At the same time, I'm angry that it is this because it is so incredibly hard to balance. You must eat to live. Every day is a tightrope. Events can send you off the rope and into the gutter, so to speak. It can be as simple as a holiday, a funeral, or a birthday.
My birthday is Saturday. I've requested a fruit tray as a cake. People just sigh. But that's okay...because the fruit tray will be tempting enough. Not because I can't have fruit...but the fact that I must limit how much of it I can eat. The whole tray is actually no problem for me.
Sad, but true.
I'm already down a size and working toward being down another. I feel better, I'm working extremely hard at the gym (5-6 days a week) and I have decided that I must not fail. Not that I have to be perfect...I just have to stay faithful. If I do something stupid like misinterpret the amount of something I'm allowed to have and it's an honest mistake...fine. If I know better and do it anyway...not fine.
One of the things that is the most difficult to do is keep changing routines to keep my body guessing, do things that my body doesn't really remember doing - like running - and keeping my head straight when Pharrell (my scale) doesn't cooperate.
Back to the journey analogy...it is beginning to feel more and more like one. In fact, if I may borrow from my experience doing Avon Breast Cancer 3-Days (1999 and 2000), it is exactly that. Just like I couldn't walk the entire 60 miles in one day, I cannot get through this journey in short order either. There's too much to learn and too far to go. Fortunately, I have good coaches, friends, and cheerleaders along the way.
And a few people I'd like to set straight. But I won't. That happens anytime that you start to see any success. They are there to be "buzz kills" so you won't get too full of yourself. They shoot flames of doubt and bad advice and horror stories so you begin to wonder...even if just for a moment. Since I know they are coming...I'm ready for them this time. Not that it doesn't hurt...and not that some of them don't mean well.
I'll keep you posted on the progress and I plan to keep writing about it...whether I actually post it or not. Just know that I'm in a season of trying to get straightened out and that I don't expect anyone to be on board with me just yet. My family is tired of watching me get to a point and then give up. My close friends have been as supportive as they can be when they've been down this road before. My work associates have seen me do this for six months and then gloriously fall off the wagon and gain it all back. And then some.
Why is this time different? Actually, I don't know that it is...other than the fact that I am willing to pull out all of the stops to make it happen. I've given up my pride and just told a couple of them how extensive the damage is. I've requested and received help in food preparation, encouragement, exercise, and keeping me accountable. So far...so good.
Yes, it is good that I am able to finally leave alone foods that I know will set me off instead of flirting with disaster. It is good that I don't dread the gym and because of food planning don't have to think about what I'll eat today. I already know...I planned it last night. I have my workout partner (Jill) back and am receiving help from someone who knows what I need to do in what combination to make the most of my time in the gym. I have a husband who is delighted to support this endeavor in any way he can. And he does.
If you are out there in the same boat I've been in before I started trying to swim for shore...take heart. Put down the processed foods, the sugar, the foods you "can't live without" and the excuses. Just start imagining the freedom you will have when you are under discipline. It is very real...the peace and the knowledge that I'm doing all that I can do - today, anyway - to make it to the shore.
If you know someone who needs to be out of the boat and in the water, then learn all that you can about nutrition and just start living that path. Make it so attractive that someone will willingly hop out of the boat to join you. That's what did it for me...and I'm very grateful to my friend, Beve, for not only NOT pressuring me to follow her...but actually trying to discourage me from it if I wasn't serious. It made me understand that this was "for real" in a way that I wouldn't have had I done this in a halfway manner. (I had another word for "halfway" beginning with "half" but keeping it G-rated, here.)
Thanks for reading about where I am so far and for any prayers that I'll be successful. I honestly have given myself no choice but to make it this time. No backing up. No giving in. Not an option. Advice is sometimes welcome, but I'm really just doing all that I can to get through the day on the right track...so dealing with jackwagons who tell me stuff like "be good during the week and then eat what you want on weekends" and "don't push yourself too hard...you are 50 years old, you know..." is exhausting. I need folks who give me a "high-five" or comment on my dedication to showing up and doing my best much more than telling me that they can tell I've lost weight.
I don't just want to lose weight - I want to eradicate it. Losing something leaves the chance that it can be found again. I don't want that option.
Off to another day on the wagon. Hope it's a good one. :)
There were many of those. It took awhile.
If this was indeed a journey, and the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, then you must know that the two inch step onto a scale was the hardest one of the journey. It is one thing to know that you are outgrowing your clothes. It is obvious not only to you, but to everyone around you. But to actually see the extent of the damage is like seeing that Visa bill in January after a big-hearted Christmas buying binge. A little shocking. Some quick denial. Some berating and moaning. Then acceptance.
The number I saw was - thankfully - lower than my worst fear. Not much lower, but lower. It was heavier than any so-called "healthy" female ought to weigh, and there was no longer any wiggle room to do anything my way. My way involved doing really well for a time and then failing. My way was to celebrate everything. My way was to wonder what I'd have for dinner that night because I hadn't planned or defrosted anything and usually meant a stop somewhere on the way home. My way was not getting me anywhere I needed to be.
So, I found somewhere that made sense, received some help and advice from a friend who has walked this path, and then I drove up to the gym.
I suppose I should note that in spite of my weight, I spent the better part of 2013 at the gym. I did an hour of cardio four days a week that involved 30 minutes of an elliptical machine and 30 minutes of a recumbent bike. I did the occasional class. I hit at the weights but didn't advance my weight up as I got stronger. I don't know if it was ignorance, laziness, or the fact that I lost my gym partner (Jill) in July when she transferred to another branch and worked a lot of nights. But somewhere in there, I just gave up the dream of being able to chip away at the poundage.
Basically, I didn't hurt myself, but I didn't really help myself either. Plus, I've since learned that you cannot out-exercise your food. If you aren't losing weight...it isn't the exercise. It is what you are eating. Unless, of course, you are running marathons or something.
I have no immediate plans for that.
Yet. Okay, FINE, ever.
The truth is, I resented having to worry about this at all. I wanted to be free to eat what I wanted, to be free of this extremely large monkey on my back that keeps me from wanting to go to reunions or even see family sometimes. It makes me not care about shopping for clothes because nothing fits well and I'm basically limited to knits in size OMG. I became that person who worries more for the concerns of others because caring for myself just seemed like a lost cause.
Maybe you've been there. Maybe you've just seen folks with weight problems and wondered how they could possibly not want to lose the weight. Perhaps you have someone in your life that you love dearly and cannot seem to convince to put down the potato chips and get off of the couch. I just know that I was lucky enough to have people love me in spite of it, and who prayed and waited for me to come to the conclusion that doing something was mandatory and not optional anymore.
It is difficult sometimes to explain the changes in what I am doing because I'll either launch into a detailed explanation that is more than anyone really wants to know...or I'll keep it close to the vest because I'm still just starting out. But what I'm doing doesn't matter as much as the fact that I'm doing something that doesn't involve drugs, shots, or anything wacko. It is a solid plan that keeps me accountable and so far, it is working.
For years, I have joked about Weight Watchers being "rehab" for me because I'd tried and failed at the program so many times. My first introduction to it was in 1977 at the tender age of 14 years. I lost a few pounds and then got active and it came off. I succeeded once - in 1987 - and actually hit goal, but didn't make it through the maintenance program. The problem was not so much losing weight. It was much deeper than that.
I have unsuccessfully tried to manage food addiction by myself for the past 42 years.
In this day and age, every syndrome and weakness of humankind is called a "disease" or an "addiction" - so bear with me here. There really isn't anything else to call what I've been through and like people addicted to alcohol or drugs, it isn't something that I'll just get over. It is an ongoing project. Although I'm "on the wagon" - so to speak - right now, all it would take is a toe in the water into the realm of some foods that set me off every time, and I'd be back on a spree to regain the poundage that I've lost over the past several weeks.
I'm not kidding. And it's not pretty.
People talk about being addicted to chocolate. For me...that's child's play. I won't even go into my list because it is quite extensive and embarrassing.
And yet, I'm grateful that it is food rather than something worse. At the same time, I'm angry that it is this because it is so incredibly hard to balance. You must eat to live. Every day is a tightrope. Events can send you off the rope and into the gutter, so to speak. It can be as simple as a holiday, a funeral, or a birthday.
My birthday is Saturday. I've requested a fruit tray as a cake. People just sigh. But that's okay...because the fruit tray will be tempting enough. Not because I can't have fruit...but the fact that I must limit how much of it I can eat. The whole tray is actually no problem for me.
Sad, but true.
I'm already down a size and working toward being down another. I feel better, I'm working extremely hard at the gym (5-6 days a week) and I have decided that I must not fail. Not that I have to be perfect...I just have to stay faithful. If I do something stupid like misinterpret the amount of something I'm allowed to have and it's an honest mistake...fine. If I know better and do it anyway...not fine.
One of the things that is the most difficult to do is keep changing routines to keep my body guessing, do things that my body doesn't really remember doing - like running - and keeping my head straight when Pharrell (my scale) doesn't cooperate.
Back to the journey analogy...it is beginning to feel more and more like one. In fact, if I may borrow from my experience doing Avon Breast Cancer 3-Days (1999 and 2000), it is exactly that. Just like I couldn't walk the entire 60 miles in one day, I cannot get through this journey in short order either. There's too much to learn and too far to go. Fortunately, I have good coaches, friends, and cheerleaders along the way.
And a few people I'd like to set straight. But I won't. That happens anytime that you start to see any success. They are there to be "buzz kills" so you won't get too full of yourself. They shoot flames of doubt and bad advice and horror stories so you begin to wonder...even if just for a moment. Since I know they are coming...I'm ready for them this time. Not that it doesn't hurt...and not that some of them don't mean well.
I'll keep you posted on the progress and I plan to keep writing about it...whether I actually post it or not. Just know that I'm in a season of trying to get straightened out and that I don't expect anyone to be on board with me just yet. My family is tired of watching me get to a point and then give up. My close friends have been as supportive as they can be when they've been down this road before. My work associates have seen me do this for six months and then gloriously fall off the wagon and gain it all back. And then some.
Why is this time different? Actually, I don't know that it is...other than the fact that I am willing to pull out all of the stops to make it happen. I've given up my pride and just told a couple of them how extensive the damage is. I've requested and received help in food preparation, encouragement, exercise, and keeping me accountable. So far...so good.
Yes, it is good that I am able to finally leave alone foods that I know will set me off instead of flirting with disaster. It is good that I don't dread the gym and because of food planning don't have to think about what I'll eat today. I already know...I planned it last night. I have my workout partner (Jill) back and am receiving help from someone who knows what I need to do in what combination to make the most of my time in the gym. I have a husband who is delighted to support this endeavor in any way he can. And he does.
If you are out there in the same boat I've been in before I started trying to swim for shore...take heart. Put down the processed foods, the sugar, the foods you "can't live without" and the excuses. Just start imagining the freedom you will have when you are under discipline. It is very real...the peace and the knowledge that I'm doing all that I can do - today, anyway - to make it to the shore.
If you know someone who needs to be out of the boat and in the water, then learn all that you can about nutrition and just start living that path. Make it so attractive that someone will willingly hop out of the boat to join you. That's what did it for me...and I'm very grateful to my friend, Beve, for not only NOT pressuring me to follow her...but actually trying to discourage me from it if I wasn't serious. It made me understand that this was "for real" in a way that I wouldn't have had I done this in a halfway manner. (I had another word for "halfway" beginning with "half" but keeping it G-rated, here.)
Thanks for reading about where I am so far and for any prayers that I'll be successful. I honestly have given myself no choice but to make it this time. No backing up. No giving in. Not an option. Advice is sometimes welcome, but I'm really just doing all that I can to get through the day on the right track...so dealing with jackwagons who tell me stuff like "be good during the week and then eat what you want on weekends" and "don't push yourself too hard...you are 50 years old, you know..." is exhausting. I need folks who give me a "high-five" or comment on my dedication to showing up and doing my best much more than telling me that they can tell I've lost weight.
I don't just want to lose weight - I want to eradicate it. Losing something leaves the chance that it can be found again. I don't want that option.
Off to another day on the wagon. Hope it's a good one. :)
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Whole Hog
I don't know if it is the fact that I have only had pork once (tenderloin) over the past month as I am trying to be very selective about what I'm eating these days or if there are just no other words that fully grasp me in this mode...but the expression "whole hog" just popped in my head to describe pretty much where I am in my life right now.
You are probably reading those lines above and wondering "in what context" so I'll try to explain. In a nutshell, for the past month, I've been trying to live a more disciplined life in certain areas. Not all areas...or I would have been committed by now to a mental health facility. But in some areas that certainly need addressing. And after the first few days of questioning my sanity about pursuing this course of action, but realizing that I'm also extremely excited about it, I am fine with everything.
You see, I only have two modes...two channels on the TV of Karen...two possible consequences for almost anything I undertake: "whole hog" or "fail."
I am not the only person like this. There are some who are far more extreme than I will ever be even on my best day. They run marathons and wrestle bears and don't have cellulite. There are those who are less committed...who are happy with their lives and okay with "whatever" and not trying to constantly fix or change something.
With first children, and especially those who are a little like "only children" (my sister is 6 years younger) there is rarely any middle ground. You are either doing something...or you're not. Right or wrong. Bad or good. Allowed or banned. Free or caged. Black or white. I'm lucky, I suppose, in that I at least have the capacity to determine where the gray area is even if I don't follow it or agree with it...but I'm pretty much either "off" or "on" and almost always not "dimmed." I mean, "Why bother?"
(The middle children and babies of the family are reading this and thinking that I need to extract the stick from the nether regions, but let's proceed...)
Did that make any sense to anyone reading this? I certainly hope so.
Okay, now that we've established the whole "one side or the other" response, let's examine something that's even more drilled down. Like the fact that there is being "on" and there is being "ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in most things. Be it your faith, football team or cause. Be it your work ethic, your family, or your grades. Most normal people are fine with "on" being enough. But in my little world, there's a scale that matters. Yellow is yellow, right?
Not exactly.
See, there is light yellow...
and what I like to call "happy yellow."
The difference, is obviously - intensity.
Yeah, some of us are more intense than others. And that's okay. At least I'm under the impression that it is. Or I used to be, before I got into the whole "tone it down a bit, sunshine..." thing and learned that keeping the intensity "under a bushel" was much easier on everyone. Myself included.
True confessions time...and I'm certain that my folks, my children and Big Dave will back this up.
When I start something...I generally go "whole hog." Not a "toe in the water" or "let's see..." attitude but a decision that I cannot and must not fail. Oh, I fail. A lot. And on a level I understand and expect that. But there is something in me that will not quit that makes me keep at it until I realize that there is no conceivable way that what I want to do is about to happen in this lifetime because it is not in the cards.
This can sometimes take years. Decades, even.
I realize that I've told my failure to learn to make biscuits during the better part of my life story a lot, so I won't go into it here, but let's just say that after many, many unsuccessful attempts, I finally just let the frozen Pillsbury biscuits be my go-to and left it at that. Until one day when my son and I tried it one last time. And it worked. They were edible. It was really as simple as using a biscuit cutter instead of a glass. Not ready for the Pillsbury Bake-Off or anything, but not rock hard and tasteless. After I did it...I ran my victory lap in my spirit and finally LET IT GO.
Good thing, too, because I need biscuits like I need another armpit.
But going "whole hog" into a lot of things has added a lot of interesting things to my life, as well as an equal number of frustrations. I've met great people. I've been encouraged about reaching for all that I can be. I've learned some life skills. I have some good stories.
My method isn't scientific...it's just simple garden-variety focus and saturation. I tend to learn a ton about whatever I'm obsessed with at the moment...and then I move on and that research is just stuck in my head taking up valuable space.
On the upside...I've learned a lot. On the downside, I've wasted a lot of time trying to master things that I just wasn't meant to and not enough time developing the talents and gifts that come naturally to me.
I've been working on that.
But to do so, I have some personal "temple renovation" to do so that I can really enjoy my life and be the best I can be in a global, general kind of way. So, lately, I've been "whole hog" again. It's been awhile, so it is a bit exhilarating. Balancing everything in the midst of this...is so not. Kind of like taking a trip to Disney World when you are excited because you've planned and readied yourself, and now you are getting to experience it. The feeling I got while looking at the actual "Mona Lisa" at the Louvre in Paris or seeing the honest-to-goodness real Eiffel Tower and Westminster Abbey.
In a sense...I'm doing that. Years of reading books talking about various things I'm correcting...and now weeks of actually doing them. Years of knowing the truth and lying to myself changed to just being real and honest with myself. Years of struggling and learning how to fail so I wouldn't fall apart when I had a great adventure or two that needed to be lived that will require me to be strong when things don't swing my way.
I realize that some of you have NO idea what I'm talking about and that's okay. It is just me trying to be healthier and going through a process of identifying what needs to be changed in order to make that happen and setting about changing it. I have help. I have resources. I'm being encouraged. I'm just not going to go into it because...no. Just no.
Big Dave always says to me "discipline is freedom" and he's right. I used to laugh because he'd get up early, do his quiet time, read his world events, drink a pot of coffee and start breakfast before I was even coherent. He lives by routines and is most comfortable when there is a plan, but he's flexible to go with whatever presents itself.
I present myself as flexible, but I'm actually a huge planner that works better when I have a plan and I can work that plan with little variation. For the past decade, I have spent time helping other people get from Point A to Point B...be it a project, event, need, or whatever, and have put myself at the back of the line. Wouldn't have changed that either, so no complaints. Back of the line is a familiar place as I grew up with a last name that started with a "T" so I ended up there a lot anyway.
But what I realized is that when your kids are launched and your friends are fine, and your parents don't need you to do anything but think they're awesome, you can just relax a little bit and take some inventory and get your life spiffied up a bit.
(No, I'm not getting a spray tan, but I have thought about it.)
So, right now, I am "whole hog" in getting some boxes checked and some questions answered and some plans made. I'm trusting that my friends will love me enough to just speak up when they need me or if and when they miss me. I believe that giving myself the same gusto that I give to other peoples' projects is kind of a nice gift to myself for awhile. Big Dave is just along for the ride, bless his heart. He's been here before.
But the excitement about addressing issues is kind of like saving pennies for a decade and then blowing it all on a Chippendale's show in Branson or something. Or a trip to Paris. A cruise. The stove of your dreams. Eh, maybe not. You know what I mean.
I am doing all that I can to stay enthusiastic about my projects and trying to be faithful to follow the plan as it is drawn. That will mean that I will have to say "no" to some things that I'd really love to say "yes" to and "yes" to things I'd really rather not do. But in the end...when it is all done...I will be grateful that I did. I just know it.
I'm sure that there will also be stories along the way...stay tuned...
In the meantime, I may be "whole hog" but I'm pretty much "off the hog" and more "on the chicken" but that's fine by me.
You are probably reading those lines above and wondering "in what context" so I'll try to explain. In a nutshell, for the past month, I've been trying to live a more disciplined life in certain areas. Not all areas...or I would have been committed by now to a mental health facility. But in some areas that certainly need addressing. And after the first few days of questioning my sanity about pursuing this course of action, but realizing that I'm also extremely excited about it, I am fine with everything.
You see, I only have two modes...two channels on the TV of Karen...two possible consequences for almost anything I undertake: "whole hog" or "fail."
I am not the only person like this. There are some who are far more extreme than I will ever be even on my best day. They run marathons and wrestle bears and don't have cellulite. There are those who are less committed...who are happy with their lives and okay with "whatever" and not trying to constantly fix or change something.
With first children, and especially those who are a little like "only children" (my sister is 6 years younger) there is rarely any middle ground. You are either doing something...or you're not. Right or wrong. Bad or good. Allowed or banned. Free or caged. Black or white. I'm lucky, I suppose, in that I at least have the capacity to determine where the gray area is even if I don't follow it or agree with it...but I'm pretty much either "off" or "on" and almost always not "dimmed." I mean, "Why bother?"
(The middle children and babies of the family are reading this and thinking that I need to extract the stick from the nether regions, but let's proceed...)
Did that make any sense to anyone reading this? I certainly hope so.
Okay, now that we've established the whole "one side or the other" response, let's examine something that's even more drilled down. Like the fact that there is being "on" and there is being "ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in most things. Be it your faith, football team or cause. Be it your work ethic, your family, or your grades. Most normal people are fine with "on" being enough. But in my little world, there's a scale that matters. Yellow is yellow, right?
Not exactly.
See, there is light yellow...
and what I like to call "happy yellow."
The difference, is obviously - intensity.
Yeah, some of us are more intense than others. And that's okay. At least I'm under the impression that it is. Or I used to be, before I got into the whole "tone it down a bit, sunshine..." thing and learned that keeping the intensity "under a bushel" was much easier on everyone. Myself included.
True confessions time...and I'm certain that my folks, my children and Big Dave will back this up.
When I start something...I generally go "whole hog." Not a "toe in the water" or "let's see..." attitude but a decision that I cannot and must not fail. Oh, I fail. A lot. And on a level I understand and expect that. But there is something in me that will not quit that makes me keep at it until I realize that there is no conceivable way that what I want to do is about to happen in this lifetime because it is not in the cards.
This can sometimes take years. Decades, even.
I realize that I've told my failure to learn to make biscuits during the better part of my life story a lot, so I won't go into it here, but let's just say that after many, many unsuccessful attempts, I finally just let the frozen Pillsbury biscuits be my go-to and left it at that. Until one day when my son and I tried it one last time. And it worked. They were edible. It was really as simple as using a biscuit cutter instead of a glass. Not ready for the Pillsbury Bake-Off or anything, but not rock hard and tasteless. After I did it...I ran my victory lap in my spirit and finally LET IT GO.
Good thing, too, because I need biscuits like I need another armpit.
But going "whole hog" into a lot of things has added a lot of interesting things to my life, as well as an equal number of frustrations. I've met great people. I've been encouraged about reaching for all that I can be. I've learned some life skills. I have some good stories.
My method isn't scientific...it's just simple garden-variety focus and saturation. I tend to learn a ton about whatever I'm obsessed with at the moment...and then I move on and that research is just stuck in my head taking up valuable space.
On the upside...I've learned a lot. On the downside, I've wasted a lot of time trying to master things that I just wasn't meant to and not enough time developing the talents and gifts that come naturally to me.
I've been working on that.
But to do so, I have some personal "temple renovation" to do so that I can really enjoy my life and be the best I can be in a global, general kind of way. So, lately, I've been "whole hog" again. It's been awhile, so it is a bit exhilarating. Balancing everything in the midst of this...is so not. Kind of like taking a trip to Disney World when you are excited because you've planned and readied yourself, and now you are getting to experience it. The feeling I got while looking at the actual "Mona Lisa" at the Louvre in Paris or seeing the honest-to-goodness real Eiffel Tower and Westminster Abbey.
In a sense...I'm doing that. Years of reading books talking about various things I'm correcting...and now weeks of actually doing them. Years of knowing the truth and lying to myself changed to just being real and honest with myself. Years of struggling and learning how to fail so I wouldn't fall apart when I had a great adventure or two that needed to be lived that will require me to be strong when things don't swing my way.
I realize that some of you have NO idea what I'm talking about and that's okay. It is just me trying to be healthier and going through a process of identifying what needs to be changed in order to make that happen and setting about changing it. I have help. I have resources. I'm being encouraged. I'm just not going to go into it because...no. Just no.
Big Dave always says to me "discipline is freedom" and he's right. I used to laugh because he'd get up early, do his quiet time, read his world events, drink a pot of coffee and start breakfast before I was even coherent. He lives by routines and is most comfortable when there is a plan, but he's flexible to go with whatever presents itself.
I present myself as flexible, but I'm actually a huge planner that works better when I have a plan and I can work that plan with little variation. For the past decade, I have spent time helping other people get from Point A to Point B...be it a project, event, need, or whatever, and have put myself at the back of the line. Wouldn't have changed that either, so no complaints. Back of the line is a familiar place as I grew up with a last name that started with a "T" so I ended up there a lot anyway.
But what I realized is that when your kids are launched and your friends are fine, and your parents don't need you to do anything but think they're awesome, you can just relax a little bit and take some inventory and get your life spiffied up a bit.
(No, I'm not getting a spray tan, but I have thought about it.)
So, right now, I am "whole hog" in getting some boxes checked and some questions answered and some plans made. I'm trusting that my friends will love me enough to just speak up when they need me or if and when they miss me. I believe that giving myself the same gusto that I give to other peoples' projects is kind of a nice gift to myself for awhile. Big Dave is just along for the ride, bless his heart. He's been here before.
But the excitement about addressing issues is kind of like saving pennies for a decade and then blowing it all on a Chippendale's show in Branson or something. Or a trip to Paris. A cruise. The stove of your dreams. Eh, maybe not. You know what I mean.
I am doing all that I can to stay enthusiastic about my projects and trying to be faithful to follow the plan as it is drawn. That will mean that I will have to say "no" to some things that I'd really love to say "yes" to and "yes" to things I'd really rather not do. But in the end...when it is all done...I will be grateful that I did. I just know it.
I'm sure that there will also be stories along the way...stay tuned...
In the meantime, I may be "whole hog" but I'm pretty much "off the hog" and more "on the chicken" but that's fine by me.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Getting Some Words on Paper - YAY!
Without going into tedious detail, I am so full of words that I absolutely must expel some of them. I've been busy doing a number of things that are interesting to me, but I'm quite certain wouldn't bring the same enthusiasm if shared in detail with anyone else. Not that this will stop me, mind you. And when I get busy, sometimes what falls behind - other than my laundry - is writing. So, here I am to give a brief overview of what I'm focusing on these days.
Like you care.
Okay, maybe you do...because I tend to care what other people I like are doing and I'm assuming that if you are taking the time out of your life to read this...that we are either friends or friends in spirit.
There are a few negative things that have happened recently such as saying goodbye to a loved one, an empty bank account (more on that later) and the fact that my shih tzu is in season again. The first has been very difficult to work through, the second I'll survive, and the third only reminds me that my nomination as "Pet Owner of the Year" is severely compromised. At least I don't have the Sarah McLachlan song playing in the background while she watches me with eyes that say "I'm on the pole again, and I don't know why. Please slip a dollar or a treat in this doggie diaper that I've learned how to take off."
No, instead...the Sarah McLachlan song was playing on the beautiful memorial pictorial that my sweet and talented nephew did for my father-in-law's funeral.
Yes, yes, you know the song. If you don't, you obviously have The Hopper with Dish Network, don't have a television, or you are a man that changes channels the millisecond a commercial comes on.
YES. THAT song.
Dixie was supposed to be scheduled to be fixed five months ago after she lost her small litter of puppies and was very sad about it all. We didn't want to put her through that again, so we were supposed to make an appointment.
See? Yeah. Bad parents. We are going to let this pass and then take her to the vet to discuss options. If Riley's attentiveness is any indication of the fact that he is enamored...the fact that he has had exactly 0% to do with me this week (usually NOT the case)...we're either going to have puppies around April 22nd, or if she dodged the bullet(s), then I'm assuming we'll schedule her surgery so that she can breathe easier come next July.
Riley is an excellent stud dog if anyone has a need for an intact male shih tzu. Trust me on this.
Other than worrying about this, I've been trying to do everybody I know's taxes. Just kidding...it's really only four people. But still. My own will be done by the end of March at the pace I'm going.
It matters not as I'll probably owe this year.
Whatever.
The rest of my time has been utilized trying to better myself a bit. No, I'm not learning French, although that would be a worthy endeavor so I'll be able to communicate with people when I visit my sister and my niece and nephew won't bray like cute little donkeys and laugh themselves silly when I am completely unable to pronounce anything other than "POO-LAY" (poulet - chicken) or "MARE-SEE" (merci - thank you). Okay, FINE, "merci" is actually NOT pronounced the way I do. Not even remotely.
Don't even ask me to pronounce a French word with an "R" in it. Including my niece, Tara's, name. Fortunately, my nephew's name is Alex. (Their sister's name is Aurore. You don't even want to know what I can do to that lovely name. I call her "Aurora." She deals.)
I've been back at the gym and struggling to be faithful to that commitment. I've had to let other things take a back seat for the next few months because I need to lose this weight and improve my health way more than I need to do anything else. Except work, laundry, church, and taxes. And probably some other things I can't remember right now. (Like get Dixie to the vet.)
I've been encouraged so much by going back to the gym and have tried to do what I need to do to keep progressing instead of being satisfied with being able to just get through the routines. What fun is that? Answer: No fun. I think a lot of people get frustrated going to the gym because it seems so pointless if there are no changes noted. So, I'm trying to get a little bit better every day.
In order to do that, I do a lot of things that I'm sure look amazingly awkward. Like squats. Attempting to run. Climbing steps at the gym over and over. Showing up in a size OMG tee shirt and some black stretch pants that do absolutely nothing for me. But I've seen no one with a camera, so it's all good. Besides, the way my hair looks lately, it honestly doesn't matter.
Greg the Miracle Worker didn't exactly do his usual stellar job with my hair this time. It kind of looks like my seven year old niece cut it or I'm in serious need of a hot oil treatment. Could be all of the sweat that I've drenched on color treated hair every day. Or the fact that some days I can't lift my arms to brush it.
Okay, THAT was an overstatement and bordered on whining. Forgive me.
But overall, life is pretty good right now. There were those two snow days that kept me out of work but with power AND cable. Can't beat that. There has been a lot of kindness thrown my way through our family's loss, a friend who is walking with me through my changes, and by the supportive people at the gym. I've gotten to spend more time with my daughter since she has come back to the gym with me, and I've just found out that my son got a co-op opportunity next Fall with General Electric that he has accepted.
And the money I don't have? That was spent on purchasing Brian a spiffy new suit, some shoes he really needed, and some things for myself that are making my transition to gym rat and meal planner a whole lot easier.
I'll go now as Dixie is in my lap, and not entirely pleased about the fact that I am using my hands to type instead of petting her. Lots of words, few coherent thoughts...but it is what it is.
Thanks for reading!
Like you care.
Okay, maybe you do...because I tend to care what other people I like are doing and I'm assuming that if you are taking the time out of your life to read this...that we are either friends or friends in spirit.
There are a few negative things that have happened recently such as saying goodbye to a loved one, an empty bank account (more on that later) and the fact that my shih tzu is in season again. The first has been very difficult to work through, the second I'll survive, and the third only reminds me that my nomination as "Pet Owner of the Year" is severely compromised. At least I don't have the Sarah McLachlan song playing in the background while she watches me with eyes that say "I'm on the pole again, and I don't know why. Please slip a dollar or a treat in this doggie diaper that I've learned how to take off."
No, instead...the Sarah McLachlan song was playing on the beautiful memorial pictorial that my sweet and talented nephew did for my father-in-law's funeral.
Yes, yes, you know the song. If you don't, you obviously have The Hopper with Dish Network, don't have a television, or you are a man that changes channels the millisecond a commercial comes on.
YES. THAT song.
Dixie was supposed to be scheduled to be fixed five months ago after she lost her small litter of puppies and was very sad about it all. We didn't want to put her through that again, so we were supposed to make an appointment.
See? Yeah. Bad parents. We are going to let this pass and then take her to the vet to discuss options. If Riley's attentiveness is any indication of the fact that he is enamored...the fact that he has had exactly 0% to do with me this week (usually NOT the case)...we're either going to have puppies around April 22nd, or if she dodged the bullet(s), then I'm assuming we'll schedule her surgery so that she can breathe easier come next July.
Riley is an excellent stud dog if anyone has a need for an intact male shih tzu. Trust me on this.
Other than worrying about this, I've been trying to do everybody I know's taxes. Just kidding...it's really only four people. But still. My own will be done by the end of March at the pace I'm going.
It matters not as I'll probably owe this year.
Whatever.
The rest of my time has been utilized trying to better myself a bit. No, I'm not learning French, although that would be a worthy endeavor so I'll be able to communicate with people when I visit my sister and my niece and nephew won't bray like cute little donkeys and laugh themselves silly when I am completely unable to pronounce anything other than "POO-LAY" (poulet - chicken) or "MARE-SEE" (merci - thank you). Okay, FINE, "merci" is actually NOT pronounced the way I do. Not even remotely.
Don't even ask me to pronounce a French word with an "R" in it. Including my niece, Tara's, name. Fortunately, my nephew's name is Alex. (Their sister's name is Aurore. You don't even want to know what I can do to that lovely name. I call her "Aurora." She deals.)
I've been back at the gym and struggling to be faithful to that commitment. I've had to let other things take a back seat for the next few months because I need to lose this weight and improve my health way more than I need to do anything else. Except work, laundry, church, and taxes. And probably some other things I can't remember right now. (Like get Dixie to the vet.)
I've been encouraged so much by going back to the gym and have tried to do what I need to do to keep progressing instead of being satisfied with being able to just get through the routines. What fun is that? Answer: No fun. I think a lot of people get frustrated going to the gym because it seems so pointless if there are no changes noted. So, I'm trying to get a little bit better every day.
In order to do that, I do a lot of things that I'm sure look amazingly awkward. Like squats. Attempting to run. Climbing steps at the gym over and over. Showing up in a size OMG tee shirt and some black stretch pants that do absolutely nothing for me. But I've seen no one with a camera, so it's all good. Besides, the way my hair looks lately, it honestly doesn't matter.
Greg the Miracle Worker didn't exactly do his usual stellar job with my hair this time. It kind of looks like my seven year old niece cut it or I'm in serious need of a hot oil treatment. Could be all of the sweat that I've drenched on color treated hair every day. Or the fact that some days I can't lift my arms to brush it.
Okay, THAT was an overstatement and bordered on whining. Forgive me.
But overall, life is pretty good right now. There were those two snow days that kept me out of work but with power AND cable. Can't beat that. There has been a lot of kindness thrown my way through our family's loss, a friend who is walking with me through my changes, and by the supportive people at the gym. I've gotten to spend more time with my daughter since she has come back to the gym with me, and I've just found out that my son got a co-op opportunity next Fall with General Electric that he has accepted.
And the money I don't have? That was spent on purchasing Brian a spiffy new suit, some shoes he really needed, and some things for myself that are making my transition to gym rat and meal planner a whole lot easier.
I'll go now as Dixie is in my lap, and not entirely pleased about the fact that I am using my hands to type instead of petting her. Lots of words, few coherent thoughts...but it is what it is.
Thanks for reading!
Thursday, January 23, 2014
All About Jill
Today is a special day for me, but it isn't my "special day." It was the end of a long journey in one way and the beginning of a grand adventure in another. It was a day that I remember a great deal of because I was awake for the better part of it, and a day with a wonderful order to it...1-23.
Exactly.
But that day 24 years ago was anything but full of order. It was actually full of nursing students who were on hand to witness a "high-risk delivery." At least that's what they told me. I'm sure that there weren't but about (no more than) eight people in the room, but it may as well have been eighty. It was crowded, the epidural was wearing off, and I was tired. I'd been in the hospital for four days waiting for this moment and it was almost at hand. Or would be as soon as someone located the doctor.
Yes. A room full of people and no doctor in sight. Did I mention that the epidural had worn off?
There is something about losing all sense of modesty because you honestly no longer care and watching the clock because you want to have a clue how long you've been in this particular predicament. Of understanding why some people swear it off after one child and that peculiar mixture of fear, anticipation, pain and joy that culminates into a crescendo when a screaming reddish blond haired little girl arrived at 9:19 a.m. and was laid on my chest after seventeen hours and seventeen minutes of labor (not that I was counting or anything. Okay, FINE, I was.) Three weeks early. All 6 lbs 10 1/2 ounces of her. That meant I only had about 88 pregnancy pounds left to lose. (I'm really not kidding...but ended up losing 70 of it before I went back to work. Preeclampsia was not my friend and I learned that one of my superpowers is the ability to retain water.)
But there she was...a little bundle of absolutely perfect. The most beautiful blue eyes...which we finally got to actually see when she eventually woke up three weeks later. (Along with colic. For a month.)
At least she was a good sleeper. (From three months on.)
I have had the most amazing journey being Jill's mother...watching her grow up from a strong willed infant into a cute toddler. Getting the reports at daycare that she had munched down on one of her classmates without being provoked for reasons known only to her...and she wasn't getting into the "why" of it at that point in time. She has never been a particularly wordy child...other than when she was wound up watching "Barney" or trying to convince me to buy something for her at Walmart.
One of my favorite memories of her at this time is asking her to repeatedly "read" "The Foot Book" by Dr. Seuss with her cute "g" instead of "f" sound so that she pronounced it "The Goot Book." (My favorite part then...and will always be "fuzzy furry feet" which became "guzzy gurry geet.") Unfortunately for her, I also asked her to tell me her address (564 Deerfield Drive) to equal hilarity.
Trying to get her dressed was always interesting...especially when she wanted to wear pink and red together...every day. Or something else equally heinous. I honestly think that this was the reason for her discontent on the famous "Picture Day."
Don't even get me started on "Picture Day" when she was two. I should have known when she told me "I not have my pitch-her made today." that it was not going to end well. Well, decide for yourself.
(THIS is what happened after they tried taking photos of every child there and couldn't get her to smile. They finally just took this one at the end. Why yes, we DID purchase every copy, and the 5 x 7 stayed in her Daddy's office for years.) She has since pointed out to me that it was cruel and unusual punishment for me to put unmatching bows in her hair and to dress her in a shirt with the word "FRUIT" on it. I suppose in retrospect, it wasn't such a great clothing choice. I think she has forgiven me though.
She grew older and started school, and we found that "channeling her leadership potential" as the Lower School Principal so kindly suggested (repeatedly in our thirty minute meeting) after she decided to double back to the library in 1st grade because she wasn't finished with a project she was working on was going to be a little more challenging than we had hoped. But on the bright side...finishing things...just like her Mom. That's my girl.
The years flew by and we went through projects, Brownies, a few years of dancing lessons before she announced her retirement, braces and glasses, and a couple of unfortunate hair years and ended up in junior high with a girl who was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. To say that it caught us by surprise was an understatement. We always thought that she was cute...and she was a precious little girl...we certainly didn't expect beautiful.
But beautiful she is.
We survived high school, the dreaded cheerleading tryouts, a bad chorale teacher, mean girls and even worse adults, and all of those years when you aren't sure that you are doing anything right. You are just praying that you are making the right decisions and striking the right balance between caring enough to make a difference and leaving enough space for independence. And then one day...
Grown. Almost anyway.
We watched her walk across the stage to accept her diploma at Frazer United Methodist Church...the same place where we stood while I was pregnant with her in 1989 to join the church, where she was christened, where she was confirmed, and now...a high school graduate. Where I really want her to get married someday but she has told me that she wants an outdoor wedding (I think to stress me out about the weather, just because.)
We were preparing to load her up for the University of Alabama to roll with the Tide and pursue a business degree. Oh, and pledge Phi Mu...which was honestly her own doing...but I couldn't have been prouder. (Which made her my daughter...AND my sister.)
A few minutes (okay, FINE, four years) later...just as we asked her to do...she graduated again.
ROLL TIDE, baby girl. You did it in four years. And had a job before you graduated.
Anyway, she is now employed, a homeowner, mother of two cats (both rescues) and a beautiful woman making a life for herself. She has good friends. She has opinions. She'll surprise you with her wisdom. We are genuinely and totally proud of this girl.
She still has the most beautiful blue eyes and a smile that will melt you (her Daddy is her favorite victim, but he doesn't seem to mind.) She has the ability to weather a lot of storms because she knows that eventually what goes around comes around. Fortunately, she found a port in the storm...a team of "other mothers" who love her, build her up and pray for her to this day. She is not a drama queen and doesn't have a whole lot of patience for wistfully looking back. She is a curious mixture of caring and accepting...but not suffering fools. Of loving her family well while not being terribly patient with people making obviously bad choices. She loves animals, her Daddy, country music, and Mexican food. She dislikes onions, fake people, things that are illogical, being low in her checking account and math.
Not necessarily in that order.
She is every wonderful thing that a mother wants her daughter to be while not sacrificing who she is and was born to be for a second. She tries to please and will go the extra mile to help someone out. If she can't please you, she'll accept it and move on. She's real and expects you to be. She knows her own mind and will give you a piece of it if you push her past her limits. She requires sleep and food when she needs it or you'll suffer the consequences. She laughs a lot, will watch horror movies and not have it affect her, goes through periods of reading everything she can get her hands on and likes to work out. She is the person who will tell you the truth when others won't, will stand with you when you need it, and will try to make you happy if she can.
She has made me very happy for the past 24 years. Okay, a little crazy too...but on the whole...HAPPY.
She was and is my "most beautiful baby girl." The little person who took all of the air out of the room when she was a little thing because she knew how much I loved her then and just where my limits were. Who painted her toenails (and the tan carpet) when I left her unattended for two minutes while I tended to her brother...and she proudly came over to where I was and showed me her handiwork. Fast forward to the young woman who tried to make me proud and really just wanted nothing more than some really good friends as she navigated those years that every "girl Mom" truly hates.
She grew into a young woman who spent her 21st birthday weekend at the beach with her mother, grandmother and two of her "other mothers" instead of at a bar (not saying she'll never enter one...but she knows her limits.) Who listens to wise counsel, loves the Lord, and tries to make good decisions, but who doesn't beat herself up when she falls short. Who sees the world the way that it is, but who always tries to make it better...brighter...more colorful. Who judges people by their heart, character, and how they treat her and not their possessions or anything that they can do for her.
In short, she's pretty doggone amazing. She didn't worry about convention when I was turning 50...she and two of the "other mothers" threw me a party at my house. There was no arguing about it. She also had her Daddy out there with a "honey-do" list that was downright impressive...and a lot of it got done.
But today, as we celebrate her...I see my Jill as the little girl she was and now the beautiful and precious woman that she is. The girl who loves her family...and will make an effort to stay in touch. The girl who is organized and creative and can hunt down a bargain like a bloodhound. The friend who will have your back but expects you to answer her calls...or she's out of there until you will. The person who is confidently looking to a future that she expects to be wonderful. I have no doubt that she'll find it.
Happy Birthday sweet Jill. Here's wishing you many, many more. I love you more than I can ever tell you in words...but in case you ever wonder...just know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have changed my life in the best possible way...and I'm grateful for it.
Exactly.
But that day 24 years ago was anything but full of order. It was actually full of nursing students who were on hand to witness a "high-risk delivery." At least that's what they told me. I'm sure that there weren't but about (no more than) eight people in the room, but it may as well have been eighty. It was crowded, the epidural was wearing off, and I was tired. I'd been in the hospital for four days waiting for this moment and it was almost at hand. Or would be as soon as someone located the doctor.
Yes. A room full of people and no doctor in sight. Did I mention that the epidural had worn off?
There is something about losing all sense of modesty because you honestly no longer care and watching the clock because you want to have a clue how long you've been in this particular predicament. Of understanding why some people swear it off after one child and that peculiar mixture of fear, anticipation, pain and joy that culminates into a crescendo when a screaming reddish blond haired little girl arrived at 9:19 a.m. and was laid on my chest after seventeen hours and seventeen minutes of labor (not that I was counting or anything. Okay, FINE, I was.) Three weeks early. All 6 lbs 10 1/2 ounces of her. That meant I only had about 88 pregnancy pounds left to lose. (I'm really not kidding...but ended up losing 70 of it before I went back to work. Preeclampsia was not my friend and I learned that one of my superpowers is the ability to retain water.)
But there she was...a little bundle of absolutely perfect. The most beautiful blue eyes...which we finally got to actually see when she eventually woke up three weeks later. (Along with colic. For a month.)
At least she was a good sleeper. (From three months on.)
I have had the most amazing journey being Jill's mother...watching her grow up from a strong willed infant into a cute toddler. Getting the reports at daycare that she had munched down on one of her classmates without being provoked for reasons known only to her...and she wasn't getting into the "why" of it at that point in time. She has never been a particularly wordy child...other than when she was wound up watching "Barney" or trying to convince me to buy something for her at Walmart.
One of my favorite memories of her at this time is asking her to repeatedly "read" "The Foot Book" by Dr. Seuss with her cute "g" instead of "f" sound so that she pronounced it "The Goot Book." (My favorite part then...and will always be "fuzzy furry feet" which became "guzzy gurry geet.") Unfortunately for her, I also asked her to tell me her address (564 Deerfield Drive) to equal hilarity.
Trying to get her dressed was always interesting...especially when she wanted to wear pink and red together...every day. Or something else equally heinous. I honestly think that this was the reason for her discontent on the famous "Picture Day."
Don't even get me started on "Picture Day" when she was two. I should have known when she told me "I not have my pitch-her made today." that it was not going to end well. Well, decide for yourself.
She grew older and started school, and we found that "channeling her leadership potential" as the Lower School Principal so kindly suggested (repeatedly in our thirty minute meeting) after she decided to double back to the library in 1st grade because she wasn't finished with a project she was working on was going to be a little more challenging than we had hoped. But on the bright side...finishing things...just like her Mom. That's my girl.
The years flew by and we went through projects, Brownies, a few years of dancing lessons before she announced her retirement, braces and glasses, and a couple of unfortunate hair years and ended up in junior high with a girl who was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. To say that it caught us by surprise was an understatement. We always thought that she was cute...and she was a precious little girl...we certainly didn't expect beautiful.
But beautiful she is.
We survived high school, the dreaded cheerleading tryouts, a bad chorale teacher, mean girls and even worse adults, and all of those years when you aren't sure that you are doing anything right. You are just praying that you are making the right decisions and striking the right balance between caring enough to make a difference and leaving enough space for independence. And then one day...
Grown. Almost anyway.
We watched her walk across the stage to accept her diploma at Frazer United Methodist Church...the same place where we stood while I was pregnant with her in 1989 to join the church, where she was christened, where she was confirmed, and now...a high school graduate. Where I really want her to get married someday but she has told me that she wants an outdoor wedding (I think to stress me out about the weather, just because.)
We were preparing to load her up for the University of Alabama to roll with the Tide and pursue a business degree. Oh, and pledge Phi Mu...which was honestly her own doing...but I couldn't have been prouder. (Which made her my daughter...AND my sister.)
A few minutes (okay, FINE, four years) later...just as we asked her to do...she graduated again.
ROLL TIDE, baby girl. You did it in four years. And had a job before you graduated.
Anyway, she is now employed, a homeowner, mother of two cats (both rescues) and a beautiful woman making a life for herself. She has good friends. She has opinions. She'll surprise you with her wisdom. We are genuinely and totally proud of this girl.
She still has the most beautiful blue eyes and a smile that will melt you (her Daddy is her favorite victim, but he doesn't seem to mind.) She has the ability to weather a lot of storms because she knows that eventually what goes around comes around. Fortunately, she found a port in the storm...a team of "other mothers" who love her, build her up and pray for her to this day. She is not a drama queen and doesn't have a whole lot of patience for wistfully looking back. She is a curious mixture of caring and accepting...but not suffering fools. Of loving her family well while not being terribly patient with people making obviously bad choices. She loves animals, her Daddy, country music, and Mexican food. She dislikes onions, fake people, things that are illogical, being low in her checking account and math.
Not necessarily in that order.
She is every wonderful thing that a mother wants her daughter to be while not sacrificing who she is and was born to be for a second. She tries to please and will go the extra mile to help someone out. If she can't please you, she'll accept it and move on. She's real and expects you to be. She knows her own mind and will give you a piece of it if you push her past her limits. She requires sleep and food when she needs it or you'll suffer the consequences. She laughs a lot, will watch horror movies and not have it affect her, goes through periods of reading everything she can get her hands on and likes to work out. She is the person who will tell you the truth when others won't, will stand with you when you need it, and will try to make you happy if she can.
She has made me very happy for the past 24 years. Okay, a little crazy too...but on the whole...HAPPY.
She was and is my "most beautiful baby girl." The little person who took all of the air out of the room when she was a little thing because she knew how much I loved her then and just where my limits were. Who painted her toenails (and the tan carpet) when I left her unattended for two minutes while I tended to her brother...and she proudly came over to where I was and showed me her handiwork. Fast forward to the young woman who tried to make me proud and really just wanted nothing more than some really good friends as she navigated those years that every "girl Mom" truly hates.
She grew into a young woman who spent her 21st birthday weekend at the beach with her mother, grandmother and two of her "other mothers" instead of at a bar (not saying she'll never enter one...but she knows her limits.) Who listens to wise counsel, loves the Lord, and tries to make good decisions, but who doesn't beat herself up when she falls short. Who sees the world the way that it is, but who always tries to make it better...brighter...more colorful. Who judges people by their heart, character, and how they treat her and not their possessions or anything that they can do for her.
In short, she's pretty doggone amazing. She didn't worry about convention when I was turning 50...she and two of the "other mothers" threw me a party at my house. There was no arguing about it. She also had her Daddy out there with a "honey-do" list that was downright impressive...and a lot of it got done.
But today, as we celebrate her...I see my Jill as the little girl she was and now the beautiful and precious woman that she is. The girl who loves her family...and will make an effort to stay in touch. The girl who is organized and creative and can hunt down a bargain like a bloodhound. The friend who will have your back but expects you to answer her calls...or she's out of there until you will. The person who is confidently looking to a future that she expects to be wonderful. I have no doubt that she'll find it.
Happy Birthday sweet Jill. Here's wishing you many, many more. I love you more than I can ever tell you in words...but in case you ever wonder...just know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have changed my life in the best possible way...and I'm grateful for it.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Surprises
Sometimes I find myself absolutely surprised at what goes on in my life. Granted, I am supposed to be considered an "active participant" in said life but I am amazed at least once a day at how God jumps out there and surprises me with something. Often it is very positive, and I get to walk through the day with a smile on my face - feeling all special like I used to in first grade when it was my day to hand out paper towels or made the only 100 on the spelling test. That joy that just bubbles up from the deep recesses of the heart and frees one from worry and stress and drama.
Some days, it is as simple as having the K-cup hit the trash can instead of catapulting itself in such a manner that it sprays coffee gradeaux all over the wall in plain sight of a coworker. Because, quite frankly, I find that making a mess when I toss anything anywhere is the default mode. Or I see a rainbow as I'm feeling low and tired of the rain and I look up...and there it is. The light that I just know I'm about to run or have to slam on brakes to avoid a camera ticket miraculously stays green as I approach it, or there's a parking place in front of Costco instead of the back forty where I'll forget where I left the car and wander aimlessly all over the parking lot.
It can be anything from a friendly hello from an old friend I haven't seen in years to a young person who takes the time to just chat with me because they are enjoying the conversation as much as I am. It may be a text message that invites me to lunch or from one of my kids that just reminds me that I am loved by the children I treasure.
Just surprises. Little gifts that I open all of the time without really thinking about it and often take for granted.
The reverse, however, I tend to never miss. Which is sad but true.
The forgetting my bath water and emptying the hot water tank so I take a bath that is borderline arctic. The newly painted mailbox that is a fresh target for the flocks of birds that fly overhead nearly constantly. The friend who won't answer the phone or return my calls because she failed to turn the volume up on her phone after church on Sunday when all I need to do is relay some information, get a response and move on. Being seated at a table at a restaurant where I have choose between breathing and possibly being wedged in because I've already waited forty minutes for a table and shouldn't be this big anyway...so by gosh, I'm not moving. (Possibly ever.)
Yeah, those things. We all have them. They are like tiny gremlins in our lives whose number one concern is stealing our joy. And they are really, really good at it. Primarily because we allow it.
I've sat beside cars where someone is just beating on the steering wheel because they missed a red light. Where someone in the grocery store was using a sharp tone to speak to a child who had probably just approached DefCom 5 on the last nerve. When the item you are looking for at the right price that you've been watching to go on sale is there in every size except yours. When "breaking news" messes up the movie you've been watching and it is news that you couldn't care less about in the first place.
It is difficult when you are in "those moments" to just let go of the emotion. But failing to do so makes you look a bit idiotic or unkind or impatient. Not that you'll care at that point in time...not even a little bit.
I read recently from a book by Andy Andrews...and I believe it to be true that all of us are either in a crisis, coming out of a crisis or headed for a crisis because such is the nature of life. So, try to use those little cosmic surprises and random acts of kindness as your focus instead of what is going wrong. Focus on what you can eat instead of what you can't. Pay attention to who loves you in your life instead of who has wronged you. Determine to make your corner of the world a little bit better instead of expecting to be a recipient all of the time. There is a lot of joy in being the one who spreads it...possibly even more so than for those on the other end.
In the heat of the moment...that's hard to do. Almost impossible sometimes.
Just focus on what is lovely, praiseworthy, kind, loving, fun, amazing, unique, special, thoughtful, and yes...surprising. May as well set your focus there...because it is more challenging to do this than to start listing what all goes wrong in any given day. But focusing on what goes wrong makes everyone around you start to notice it too. And then they don't like that feeling but they carry it into their interactions. Eventually, if it happens often, they'll begin to associate that bad feeling with being around you. And the unpleasantness that started out as one thing that didn't go your way turns into a whole lifetime of negativity that causes ripples beyond what you intended...and takes people out of your circles because they associate the negativity and sob stories of life with you.
Do the more difficult thing...focus on what is going right.
That's hard to do when you have a loss, bad news or a very difficult mountain to climb. But along the way, there are reminders that God is there trying to catch your attention and your heart. Just try to find those and keep walking. Or crawling. Or waiting. You'll be fine. You are exactly where God wants you or know that He is trying to get you back to where you need to be.
I don't know about you, but I love being around happy people. People who are just happy to be here living life. Who find the humor in the negative and who smile through the pain because nothing can touch the core of who they really are. Those people inspire me to get out of my cave of bad thoughts and expectations and just enjoy the sunlight that they bring. These people cause ripples of joy that go far beyond what they intended as well.
Thank goodness.
So, today, as you face whatever is before you, just try to remember to look for the little surprises and to try to keep it as positive as you can. Yes, there is a time to mourn and a time to be frustrated as you are standing in the pouring down rain with a flat tire. But just know that everything you do and everyone you come into contact with has some purpose...or you wouldn't be here drawing breath. Try to make sure that while you are, you are trying to change the world by being a pleasant surprise to someone else out there. They don't even have to appreciate it. God wastes nothing.
Wishing you a delightful day full of pleasant surprises and unspeakable joy.
Some days, it is as simple as having the K-cup hit the trash can instead of catapulting itself in such a manner that it sprays coffee gradeaux all over the wall in plain sight of a coworker. Because, quite frankly, I find that making a mess when I toss anything anywhere is the default mode. Or I see a rainbow as I'm feeling low and tired of the rain and I look up...and there it is. The light that I just know I'm about to run or have to slam on brakes to avoid a camera ticket miraculously stays green as I approach it, or there's a parking place in front of Costco instead of the back forty where I'll forget where I left the car and wander aimlessly all over the parking lot.
It can be anything from a friendly hello from an old friend I haven't seen in years to a young person who takes the time to just chat with me because they are enjoying the conversation as much as I am. It may be a text message that invites me to lunch or from one of my kids that just reminds me that I am loved by the children I treasure.
Just surprises. Little gifts that I open all of the time without really thinking about it and often take for granted.
The reverse, however, I tend to never miss. Which is sad but true.
The forgetting my bath water and emptying the hot water tank so I take a bath that is borderline arctic. The newly painted mailbox that is a fresh target for the flocks of birds that fly overhead nearly constantly. The friend who won't answer the phone or return my calls because she failed to turn the volume up on her phone after church on Sunday when all I need to do is relay some information, get a response and move on. Being seated at a table at a restaurant where I have choose between breathing and possibly being wedged in because I've already waited forty minutes for a table and shouldn't be this big anyway...so by gosh, I'm not moving. (Possibly ever.)
Yeah, those things. We all have them. They are like tiny gremlins in our lives whose number one concern is stealing our joy. And they are really, really good at it. Primarily because we allow it.
I've sat beside cars where someone is just beating on the steering wheel because they missed a red light. Where someone in the grocery store was using a sharp tone to speak to a child who had probably just approached DefCom 5 on the last nerve. When the item you are looking for at the right price that you've been watching to go on sale is there in every size except yours. When "breaking news" messes up the movie you've been watching and it is news that you couldn't care less about in the first place.
It is difficult when you are in "those moments" to just let go of the emotion. But failing to do so makes you look a bit idiotic or unkind or impatient. Not that you'll care at that point in time...not even a little bit.
I read recently from a book by Andy Andrews...and I believe it to be true that all of us are either in a crisis, coming out of a crisis or headed for a crisis because such is the nature of life. So, try to use those little cosmic surprises and random acts of kindness as your focus instead of what is going wrong. Focus on what you can eat instead of what you can't. Pay attention to who loves you in your life instead of who has wronged you. Determine to make your corner of the world a little bit better instead of expecting to be a recipient all of the time. There is a lot of joy in being the one who spreads it...possibly even more so than for those on the other end.
In the heat of the moment...that's hard to do. Almost impossible sometimes.
Just focus on what is lovely, praiseworthy, kind, loving, fun, amazing, unique, special, thoughtful, and yes...surprising. May as well set your focus there...because it is more challenging to do this than to start listing what all goes wrong in any given day. But focusing on what goes wrong makes everyone around you start to notice it too. And then they don't like that feeling but they carry it into their interactions. Eventually, if it happens often, they'll begin to associate that bad feeling with being around you. And the unpleasantness that started out as one thing that didn't go your way turns into a whole lifetime of negativity that causes ripples beyond what you intended...and takes people out of your circles because they associate the negativity and sob stories of life with you.
Do the more difficult thing...focus on what is going right.
That's hard to do when you have a loss, bad news or a very difficult mountain to climb. But along the way, there are reminders that God is there trying to catch your attention and your heart. Just try to find those and keep walking. Or crawling. Or waiting. You'll be fine. You are exactly where God wants you or know that He is trying to get you back to where you need to be.
I don't know about you, but I love being around happy people. People who are just happy to be here living life. Who find the humor in the negative and who smile through the pain because nothing can touch the core of who they really are. Those people inspire me to get out of my cave of bad thoughts and expectations and just enjoy the sunlight that they bring. These people cause ripples of joy that go far beyond what they intended as well.
Thank goodness.
So, today, as you face whatever is before you, just try to remember to look for the little surprises and to try to keep it as positive as you can. Yes, there is a time to mourn and a time to be frustrated as you are standing in the pouring down rain with a flat tire. But just know that everything you do and everyone you come into contact with has some purpose...or you wouldn't be here drawing breath. Try to make sure that while you are, you are trying to change the world by being a pleasant surprise to someone else out there. They don't even have to appreciate it. God wastes nothing.
Wishing you a delightful day full of pleasant surprises and unspeakable joy.
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