Tag Archives: change

01

Jul. ’13

Anniversary

“We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.”
– W. Somerset Maugham

Today, July 1, is mine and Richard’s first anniversary.

Well, sort of.

I always hesitate before I write a “personal” blog like this.  And by personal, I don’t mean it’s stuff that I don’t want to share.  Shoot, I’ll share anything you want to know.  No, I mean “personal” in that, it’s my story.  It’s not a general blog that everyone can relate with.  It’s specific.  It’s mine.  But in the past, each time I went ahead and ignored my hesitation and posted a personal blog anyway, they always seem to get the most response.  At first, that used to baffle me.  But over time, I’ve come to realize that people just are generally interested in other people’s stories.  It’s what makes us all ‘connected.’ We like to know each other – know where we come from, why we are the way we are, how we got to the point we got to.  And then we like to see similarities in our own situations and compare our story to theirs.  It’s just part of the human experience.  All of these individual stories work together to create unique squares on the tapestry of humanity.

So, no hesitation this time.  Here’s my contribution to the “quilt.”

I’m just going to tell you a little bit about us – about how happy I am and about how it wasn’t easy getting here.  And maybe you won’t get too bored with it.  This is not your typical lovey dovey “how we met and fell in love” story.

No, our story isn’t quite so cut and dry as that.

Richard and I have trouble deciding what our exact “anniversary” is.  And the reason for that is that we had a little bit of a bumpy start.  There’s no precise before & after line.  There’s a huge pile of gray area.  (And I’m willing to bet that a lot of other couples have this kind of story too.)

Richard and I were a “set up” of sorts.  I had just joined a new theatre and was, yet again, newly single.  A co-actor mentioned Richard’s name once in a “I have a friend I think you’d like…” kind of way back in April of 2012. (I still owe you for that, Barry!)  My initial reaction, of course, was the proud single lady’s response of, “No thanks.  I’m perfectly fine being single.  I don’t need a man to complete me…” blah, blah, blah.  But the second Barry had left the room?  I had my cell phone out looking up this Richard guy on Facebook.  I wasn’t going to “add” him or anything like that.  I mean, come on.  I wasn’t that pathetic.  But stalk him?  Oh yeah.  That was totally acceptable, right?

Well, a few days later, I get a Facebook add from said Richard.  (Hmmm…guess Barry mentioned his little idea to both of us, not just me.)  I added him, and sent a message saying pretty much that very thing.  We laughed about it and proceeded to write back and forth for a few weeks.  I don’t know what it was about those messages, but I was so intrigued by this guy.  First of all, his grammar and punctuation were spot on.  I mean, hello!?  We ALL know that is of the utmost importance in determining potential, right?  But even aside from gaining this wanna-be English teacher’s approval with all the capital letters and periods, he also impressed me with the subjects he wanted to talk about.  We talked about our kids, my theatre, and his music.  All things that were very important to us.  No stupid flirty “hey baby, you wanna go out sometime?” nonsense.  Just real life “here’s what’s important in my life” talk.  I liked that.

So, we planned to meet.

Ironically, our first meeting took place at the theatre.  His son was auditioning for the next summer musical, Oliver, and I was planning to be there as well.  So, since we were both going to be in town, and his son was going home with his mom after the audition, we decided to plan to meet there and then go out to dinner afterwards.  (Little did we know at the time how instrumental that theatre was going to be in the “story of us.”)

Oh my gosh, I was a nervous wreck.  What do I wear?  What do I talk about?  Will I even recognize this dude from his pictures? Will we be able to talk in person like we’ve done on Facebook?  I had heard that this guy was the “quiet, shy type.”  What in the heck would we have in common??  “Quiet” and “shy” were two words that had never – not once – been used to describe me.  I was exactly the opposite.

Well, worries aside, the meeting went pretty smoothly.  I recognized him immediately.  We walked in together; sat together; chatted about a million things (ok, maybe that was just me chatting nervously, but whatever).  Went to dinner afterwards.  And then again the next night.  And then again the next night.  In fact, we pretty much jumped in head first.

Here’s a picture of us on one of our first dates.

anniversary1

We went from “single and hurting over a past relationship,” to “in a new relationship” in the drop of a hat.

And boy was that a BAD idea.

After about a week of that, it fizzled.  Ok, I’m lying.  It didn’t fizzle.  He got scared and ran.  I was hurt, but at the same time, not surprised.  Deep down, I knew he wasn’t ready, and frankly, neither was I.  Oh well.  No harm done, right?  Move along.

But darn it.

There was just something about that guy.

I went on to get involved with Oliver at the theatre.  My daughter decided to get involved with the theatre for the first time and was cast as one of the orphan boys, along with Richard’s son, Riley.  I spent a lot of one-on-one time with the kids and ended up being crazy about Riley.  And so was my daughter.  They became fast friends.  Soon after, Riley’s little sister Lauren joined the cast and we became just as close to her.  It was so hard not to adore his kids.  But what a strange situation.  I date this guy temporarily, he disappears from my life, and suddenly, I find myself falling in love with his kids when he was nowhere around.  Weird.

So, eventually, as showtime neared, Richard started spending some time at the theatre as well.  We were both new runners, so we kept to the safe subject of running and avoided any mention of having dated before.  Eventually, the talks of running turned into talks about the kids.  And talks about the theatre.  And talks about his music.  And finally, hesitantly, to talks about why the two of us hadn’t worked out.  He finally told me his story of his past relationship and how he had jumped the gun in moving on.  I told him my past stories as well and eventually…well, I don’t know.  We became friends.  Really good friends.  I decided maybe this is what had been fated all along.  Maybe we weren’t meant to be a couple, per se.  We had so much in common – kids in the theatre, being performers ourselves, being new runners, both of our professions being the real estate field.  Yes, he was quiet and I was loud.  But that didn’t matter – we had enough in common to make us drawn to each other.  I was just going to have to accept that it was to be in a “friends” aspect and not in the romance department.

Psssh.

Yeah, I could tell myself that crap all day long.  But then I’d pass him backstage in the dark wings and my heart would flutter.  I knew I couldn’t just be his friend.  I knew it.  But I had to do what I had to do.  I wanted this man in my life and I was just going to have to accept that I didn’t get to choose the specific role he played.

And then…well, something changed.

I got stung by a bee.

No, really.  I got stung by a bee and the whole dynamic of who we were changed.  (I’m not sure if he’d tell this story the same way I am, but after reading this, I think he’ll see it for what it was too.)

The show had ended and our “required” time together had passed by.  There were no longer circumstances that would put us in the same place at the same time.  We continued texting and talking, and even had a “friendly” dinner together one evening.  But that whole “couple” thing was still just not happening.

Cue the bee sting.

The weekend before Independence Day, we were doing separate things – he was off with friends and I was at the pool with my kids.  While packing our things to leave the pool, I got stung on the back.  I didn’t think much of it (other than the passing thought that I couldn’t remember having been stung by a bee since I was a small child, if even then) and we went on about our business.  But as we were getting in the car, I realized  that something was wrong.  My throat started closing up and I began to get welts all over me.  I was having an allergic reaction.  Here I was, the only adult out with two kids and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do.  I was still able to drive to the gas station nearby, and I had my son go in and buy me some Benadryl.  Eventually, the symptoms passed somewhat and I was able to drive home.  All in all, it was a pretty scary situation.  But I got through it and just realized that I better carry Benadryl with me from then on.  Apparently I’m allergic to bees.  Who knew?

So, later that night, Richard texts and asks about my day.  I tell him about the bee scenario and he responds, “Why didn’t you call me?”

Huh?

Why didn’t I call him?  Why would I have called him?  What did it have to do with him?

And then, it dawned on me.  I wondered if he was starting to see me in that way.  In the, “I’m the one she should call when she needs someone” way.  And the next day, I got my answer.  He asked me to come over.  And I did.  That’s when he told me that this weekend had felt different.  That at one point, he realized that he missed me.

That we should have been together.

And there you have it.  That was July 1.  So, we decided we’d use that day as the day we became “official.”

I wish I could tell you that it was happily ever after from that day forward.  But it wasn’t.  We still had some issues to overcome.  We still had some annoying little “past” pests to swat away at times.  Even let it break us up once for a while.  (And you know what put us back together?  Yet again – the theatre.  I was cast as his son’s mom in a production.  So, as much as we wanted to be apart, life wouldn’t let us.  Thank goodness for the theatre.)

So, yes, there have been some tough times, but we’ve managed.  We just keep finding our way back somehow.

See, that’s the thing about something that’s meant to be.  No matter how much you try to fight it, it always manages to happen anyway.  In spite of you.

So, no.  The first year of our story hasn’t been the typical fairy tale.  (And really, whose love story is?)  We’ve seen each other through the good and bad, through the best and worst of our personalities.  By starting out as friends, we came to know each other in a different way than we would have if we had continued dating from the beginning.  We told each other the truth.  We exposed the “ugly” underneath and, lo and behold, we’re still here.

We’re still here.

Warts and all.

anniversary3

I love this man with all of my heart.  And I know, without a doubt, that he loves me too.

And I can guarantee you that I’ll be here blogging on July 1, 2014, about all that happened in Year #2.

Because when you know, you just know.

Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.

***

“If you meet somebody and they love you when you are your true, awful, not-ready-yet, boring, not cool enough, not handsome enough, not pretty enough, too fat, too poor self?  And if you love them back so much that it makes you calm? And they have flaws and you do not mind a single one of them?….If you found that, you found it.”
– Augusten Burroughs

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25

Jun. ’13

Writing Pays Off

So, Friday, June 21, 2013, I received my first-ever award for writing.  I won first place in the essay division of the Chautauqua Creative Writing Festival in Wytheville, Virginia.  Here is a picture of me with the guest speakers at the event, authors Mary Lin Brewer and Rosa Lee Jude.  (They are co-authors for a new historical fiction book series entitled The Legends of Graham Mansion.)  My sweet boyfriend Richard who came along took this picture for us.  I’m shown with the certificate that was presented to me for my “meritorious writing abilities.”  It really says that right there on the certificate.

Meritorious writing abilities.

Awesome.

award

But you know what’s even more awesome?  Here’s the picture I really wanted to take while I was there, but was too chicken and decided to wait for a more tactful setting.  Safe at home.

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Cha-ching!

Oh yeah, baby.  That’s a check.  A real live check for my writing.  MY WRITING.  A check.  Holy cow!

It’s such an awesome feeling to get a check for doing something that you just love to do for fun.  I think back to the day I wrote the particular entry that won this contest, and I am blown away that that feeling of insecurity that overcame me at the time managed to lead to such an awesome thing.  Isn’t that crazy?

There I was, sitting in the middle of an uncomfortable “woe is me” situation, and then fast forward a few months and I’m holding a check in my hand because of it.  Interesting.

Kind of makes you think a little, doesn’t it?

Who’s to say that whatever crap you’re dealing with right now at this very moment isn’t going to lead to something as awesome as that?  It’s worth considering, wouldn’t you say?

Hang in there.  It all happens for a reason, my friends.

***

“Everything happens for a reason.  That reason causes change.  Sometimes the change hurts.  Sometimes the change is hard.  But in the end, it’s all for the best.”
– Rita Ghatourey

Links if you’re interested:

Entry that won the contest: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/04/11/fully-dressed/

Info on the Legends of Graham Mansion as referenced above: http://www.legendsofgrahammansion.com/

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19

Jun. ’13

Here and Now

“Yes, sometimes it’s tempting to think of what could’ve been. But what you really need to think of is what ‘would’ve‘ been. And that’s when you realize you’re exactly where you need to be.”
– Richard Edmondson

For those of you who are my Facebook friends, you probably already saw this quote that I posted over the weekend.  These words were spoken by my boyfriend, Richard.  As soon as I heard them, I knew they were quotable.  And as soon as I quoted him, I knew there was a blog here waiting to happen.

So, I sat down at a computer and I started to write.  I typed the quote at the top of the page and then….well.  Nothing happened.  Nothing.  Not one single sentence popped into my mind.  So much wisdom and meaning lying behind those words he said, and yet I – the one who can type for days about any given subject at any given time – can’t think of a single thing to say?  Not one more thing to add?  What’s up with that?

Hmmm.  Maybe the quote is so profound that it stands alone on its own.

Yep.  I think that’s it.

What else needs to be said really?

I mean, think about it.  How much of what you think you miss about something – whether it be a relationship from the past, an old home or an old job, a lost friendship, whatever the case may be – how much of that is actual memories and not just what you hoped it would become?  I’m betting not too much of it is real.  Be honest with yourself.  Take that thing that you can’t let go of and examine it through honest eyes for a minute.  Would it really be gone if it was as great as you thought it was?

Yes, it could’ve been great.  But would it have been?

Richard and I are not young.  We both had quite a few failed relationships in our past before we ever laid eyes on each other.  We have mountains of memories behind us, and each of us has our own share of regret that we carry along into this relationship from the ones prior.  Sometimes the past sneaks up on us and taps us on the shoulder.  It’s inevitable.  It happens.  It happens to us, and it’s going to happen to you.  It’s just how life works.  The key is knowing what to do when it happens.

Do you let it cause insecurities and chip away at your present situation?  Do you let it cause you doubt and make you second-guess your choices?  Do you let the fantasy steal the reality?

Or…?

Or do you do what my Richard does? Do you take a long, slow look around, see the beauty and the blessing in everything that your path has led you to, and wish the past a silent, thoughtful, heartfelt goodbye as you grab on tight to what you have now, safe in the knowledge that you’re exactly where you are meant to be?

I don’t know about you, but that second choice sure sounds a whole lot better to me.

usaww

This is what it’s all about.  This is where we belong.  Not in all of the many yesterdays before us, and not in the vast span of tomorrows to come.  But right here.  Right now.  Right where we were meant to be.

Thanks for the reminder, sweetheart.

***

“I thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now.  I was never not coming here.  This was never not going to happen.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert

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06

Jun. ’13

Uncertainty

uncertainty blog2

Well, crap.  John Finley, you just ruined my day.

Because you know what I hate?  What I despise?  What I loathe?

Uncertainty.

Holy cow, do I detest uncertainty.  I want to know exactly what is going to happen, when it’s going to happen, how it’s going to happen, and how everyone is going to feel when it happens.  This ‘not knowing’ crap is for the birds.

So, with that being the case – I’m sure you can guess that I don’t handle change very well.  Especially unexpected change.  (Well, that seems kind of redundant.  I guess most all change is unexpected really, isn’t it?)  So, Mr. Finley, with your fancy schmancy quote – I guess I’m immature.

So, here we go.  I’m going to throw caution to the wind and blog about something kind of personal here.  I think it’s important to do that sometimes so that you, my reader, can know that I’m just as crazy as you are.  Yes, I just called you crazy.  I know you’re crazy.  Know how I know?  Two reasons.  1) You’re reading this blog.  And 2) EVERYONE is crazy.  And you’re one of everyone.  So there.

So, fellow crazy person, I’m gonna spill my guts to you.

My relationship is going through another rocky patch.  Hey, it happens.  And I’m going to go ahead and own up to the blame in this one.  Hands down, I admit it.  It’s all me.  But, for the life of me, I just don’t know what to do about it.

My boyfriend just took a second job as a bartender.  I’m going to list the obvious reasons why this worries me first.

  1. Timing.  He’s going to work nights/I’m going to work days (ok, he’s doing both actually).  I’m going to work weekdays/He’s going to work weekends (Again: both for him).  *Sigh*
  2. His life is going to change.  He’s going to be surrounded by tons of new people.  Tons of people that will be there with him when I won’t.  *Sigh*
  3. My life is going to change.  A lot of the time that I had worked into my schedule to spend with him will now be time spent alone.  *Sigh*
  4. He’s a bartender.  A bartender.  I know life is not always like the stereotypes, but Hello?  Being a bartender is sexy.  We all know that.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a little jealous.  Well, jealous isn’t really the right word here.  I think insecure is more like it.  That life is not my life.  But it’s now going to be his.  And it’s going to be the life of the people he’s going to be spending his time with.  We may not have anything in common anymore.  (Have I sighed yet?  If not….*sigh*)
  5. There won’t be time for me anymore.

I could stop here.  That’s a pretty good list and probably doesn’t need anything added to it.  That’s enough to prove my point, right?  You get it?  Understand my worries?  Yep, I could stop here.  Enough said.  I should stop here.

But stopping here would be a lie.  And I don’t do the lying thing very well.

The #1 reason I’m worried isn’t even on that list.

Most people know how to keep their mouths shut and just let things silently hurt them.  But I’m not most people.  Until I have faced and dealt with a problem head on, it won’t go away.  I have to say it out loud.  I have to address it.  When someone has hurt me, I have to approach them and deal with it.  I can’t run from it, it’s just not in my DNA.  I go to them, we talk it out, and then we go our separate ways.  Sometimes healed, sometimes not.  But either way, it’s addressed and I can have peace.

But this time is different.

This time I don’t know who hurt me.  I just know that someone did.

Someone who is involved in my boyfriend’s close-knit group of friends blatantly excluded me a while back.  I won’t get into the specifics of how it happened (they know, and I know – that’s all that matters), but it happened.  And it hasn’t been forgotten.  This close-knit group of friends are always together, and are always at the place my boyfriend is working.  He adores them, and I don’t blame him.  They’re great people.  They’re fun-loving, they live life to the fullest, they’re great conversationalists.  But one of them (maybe more?) doesn’t like me.  And until I know who the one person was, it’s hard to fully let my guard down with any of them.  Does that make sense?  Until I know who not to trust, I can’t trust anyone.  This is a tough situation for our relationship.  Very tough.  For both of us.  And now a big fat spotlight is being shone on it.

So, what it all boils down to is this – I feel excluded.  I have always felt excluded, but with Richard by my side, I was able to temporarily forget it at times.  I knew I belonged with him, and that’s all that matters.  But now?  Now, he’s surrounded by that life that someone doesn’t want me in, and I’m not there.  I’m standing outside of an invisible wall that I can’t seem to break down.

And his taking this job?  Well, in my mind, the wall just got bigger.

I feel the pressure building.  I feel the tension piling up and I’m not sure how to escape it.  In the back of my mind, I keep hearing the faint ‘tick tick tick…’ of an impending explosion.  And frankly, that sound is getting pretty darn annoying.

I’m getting pretty annoying.

“Every day I fight a war against the mirror
I can’t take the person starin’ back at me
I’m a hazard to myself
Don’t let me get me
I’m my own worst enemy
It’s bad when you annoy yourself…”

*sigh*  Pink gets it.

Maybe that’s why I feel the need to write this blog.  Maybe I’m looking for suggestions?  Maybe I’m looking for help?  Maybe I just don’t want to watch something fade away if there was something I could do about it and just didn’t know what it was.  Maybe I just want to know I’m not alone in how I feel?  That people understand?  Sympathize?  That there are more people like me and Pink out here in this world?

Or maybe I just need to hear that I’m selfish and insecure and need to get over myself.  Yeah, that’s a possibility too, I suppose.

Maybe I just needed to vent.

All I know is that I have watched a friend of mine go through a very similar situation over the past ten months in her relationship (daytime job versus nighttime job – different lives, different friends, etc.), and I’m now watching as she adjusts to her new life as a single woman because it didn’t work out.

I don’t want that to be me.  But what do I do?

***

“The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear – fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety.”
– H. L. Mencken

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28

May. ’13

Dress the Part

I noticed something interesting the other day.

This is my daughter, Kelly.

dresspartblog

This picture was taken on the day of her 7th grade graduation.  We curled her hair, she had a little makeup on, wore a cute little dress…she was looking pretty darn spiffy.  Well, later that evening, she and I had to be at theatre rehearsal.  (She was cast as Annie in our local theatre’s upcoming production – if you haven’t already heard me mention that about 3,000 times. I’m just a little bit proud.)  She still had her hair curled, still had the little dress on, etc.  And something interesting happened.  When she stepped on that stage that night, she did the best she had ever done.

Now, granted, my daughter is capable of playing this role.  She is beyond capable.  But with this being her first large role (first speaking role, even), she’s a bit nervous and a little reserved.  Up to this point, she hadn’t found her ‘sea legs,’ so to speak.  But by golly, she was swimming that night.  That girl was spot on.  I saw more spunk and confidence than I had seen thus far.

After rehearsal, I told her what a great job she had done and asked what made her come alive like she did.  She said, “I don’t know.  I had my hair all curly and a dress on…I guess I just felt like Annie.”

“I guess I just felt like Annie.”

Kinda profound when you think about it.  She dressed the part, so she felt like the part.  Simple as that.

So, how does that apply to the rest of us?

Granted, I know we’re not all title characters in a musical.  Most of us are just out here floating about in our regular everyday lives trying to make it through the day without any major catastrophes.  But I think I just learned a pretty good lesson from my 13-year-old daughter.  Whatever I want (need?) to be, I just have to “dress the part.”

Let’s take my running for example.  Now, I’ve heard a lot of runners have mentioned this before so I’m not alone in this thought process.  Sometimes I just don’t feel like running.  I just don’t.  I know I need to, I know I’ll feel good when it’s over, but none of that matters.  I’m just tired and I don’t feel like it.  But as soon as I put on my running clothes and running shoes…suddenly, I’m transformed.  I went from a lazy bum on the couch who didn’t feel like doing anything at all, to an all-out runner who is raring to go.  It’s that simple.  I dress like a runner, so I feel like a runner.

Now, that’s a literal example.  But maybe this can be applied in a not-so-literal way.  Maybe it’s not always an outfit.

Maybe if you want to be a certain thing, you just have to pretend like you are that thing.  You know?

You want to be happy?  Dress the part.  Slap on a smile and be happy.  The first time you do it, you may just feel dumb…smiling for no reason like that like a big dummy.  But the second time you do it, who knows?  You might actually start to feel a little better.  The third?  Maybe even better.  Eventually your smiles will not only fool other people into thinking that you’re actually happy…you might even start to fool yourself.  How about that?

Dress the part.

You want to forgive someone who hurt you?  Act like you have.  Seriously.  Just act like that.  When those negative thoughts pop into your mind, tell yourself that that person is forgiven.  You don’t have to mean it.  Just say it.  Again – at first, it will feel silly.  You’ll feel like a liar.  But the next time?  Maybe it will feel like a little less of a lie.  The next time?  Even less.  Eventually, maybe it just might not be a lie.  Maybe it’ll even become the truth.

Maybe you can put on that little imaginary cloak of forgiveness and finally – finally – just move on.

Dress the part.

Fill in the blank with whatever you need to fill it in with.  You want to be a more positive person?  Act like you’re a positive person.  You want to be a better friend?  Be a better friend.  You want to trust someone?  Trust them.

You want to love someone?  Love them.

Dress the part.

Start with baby steps.  Then bigger steps.  Then keep increasing your stride until you’re moving at full speed.

YOU alone have the power to change everything.

***

“Endeavor to be what you desire to appear.”
– Socrates

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24

May. ’13

Winds of Change

winds of change

The winds of change.  *Sigh*  They sure do seem to be blowing quite a bit in my world here lately.  Am I building walls or windmills?  Good question.

So, here are some examples of a few of the changes.

Example #1

Yesterday, I watched my beautiful little daughter ‘graduate’ the 7th grade.  See?  Isn’t she gorgeous?

changeblog1

Where we live, high school starts in 8th grade.  So as of today, I’m officially the mother of two high school students.  Wow.  Talk about change.  Where has the time gone?  That little freckled-face kid is a beautiful young woman.  How did that happen??

Example #2

I’m moving.  Ugh.  Moving is a big fat giant pain the butt, even when it’s for the best.  I’ve done it a million times in my life for various reasons, but it just never gets any easier.  Packing up your life and moving it somewhere else is just plain difficult.  Especially when you’re like me.  I don’t just throw things in a box – I go through them.  Each and every single thing, one by one.  And sometimes that can be a little painful.  Those things that are collecting dust in a box in the corner are there for a reason.  Stirring them up is not always the best idea.  But there are times that it has to be done, and unfortunately, this is one of them.

So…me and my feather duster have some work to do.

Example #3

This is a picture of my beautiful little grandparents taken just a few months ago at my aunt’s house where they were staying for a while until decisions were made about their care.

pic1

And this is the picture my daughter took this past weekend of my mom and I at my grandpa’s bedside in the nursing home.

nursinghome

Between pneumonia, dementia, and advanced age, changes have hit them and our family in what seems like the drop of a hat.  Walking through their empty house this past weekend (cleared out in preparation to sell for their care), I couldn’t help but feel the change all around me.  And watching my mother and her sisters as they took care of all the details, my heart just broke for them.

Change, man.  It can be rough.  I’m tellin’ ya.

I could go on and on listing various little life changes, but I won’t.  Not all are as poignant as aging grandparents and lost childhood, but they’re everywhere.  Life is all about change.  That’s no secret.  We all know that.  And knowing it doesn’t really make it any easier, does it?

But maybe we need to look at that just a little differently.

Yes, life is all about change.  But isn’t change also all about life?

Think about it.  As long as things are changing, then you’re still alive.  You’re still on this crazy ride.  Your heart is still beating.  You’re still laughing, crying, living, losing, loving.  While change can be difficult, it’s so important to remember that it’s happening for a reason.

Yes, my baby girl is growing up.  That’s a good thing.  She’ll never crawl into my lap with her baby dolls again, but she’ll go on to have her own little girl to crawl into her lap.  It’s life.  And it’s beautiful.

Yes, I’m digging through old memories during the stress of a move.  But in doing so, I’m also getting rid of some of the old baggage that might have been weighing me down.  And I’m deciding what needs to remain and packing it up for another day.  I’m simplifying my life and moving on to better things, a little lighter in the process.

Yes, my grandparents are in a different phase of their life.  And it’s very, very hard on the rest of us.  But it is strengthening bonds in the ones left behind.  Some of the family is banding together and taking care of what needs to be taken care of.  They are sharing their sorrows, helping each other through.  Coming together at a time when they need each other.  Showing their strengths in the midst of others’ weakness.  And when the inevitable time comes that my grandparents pass on, they will do so knowing that the ones who truly loved them took care of them in the end.

Yes, change sure is hard sometimes.  But – if things are changing, you’re still breathing.  See it for what it is, embrace it, do the best you can with what life is handing you, and just keep moving forward.

Let’s build some windmills, shall we?

***

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes.  Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow.  Let reality be reality.  Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”
-Lao Tzu

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22

May. ’13

The Beholder

“Beauty is simply reality as seen with the eyes of love.”
– Evelyn Underhill

Last week, I wrote a blog called Self-Image (Click here to read).  In this blog, I mentioned that my friend, Iman Woods, who is a blogger with 8 Women Dream, had decided to use myself and my boyfriend Richard as “guinea pigs” for an upcoming article on women and their self-esteem.  Most of this was kept secret to me.  I honestly didn’t know what she was asking him or how he was responding.  (Have I mentioned that I’m in love with the quietest man on earth??  Dude can seriously keep a secret.)  All I knew was that I needed to pick out five pictures of myself – three that I particularly liked and two that I did not – and critique them.

My friend’s blog posted this morning.  Check it out here.

Wow.

My friend asked for my thoughts on this and to tell her what I think, and I’m not even sure what to say.  For once, this ol’ gal is somewhat speechless.  However, I’ll try.  I know nothing I say will truly convey how much this article affected me, though.

First of all, after reading this article, I’ve decided that I sure do seem kind of silly.  All of those little things that I worry about and obsess over?  The man whose attention and attraction I am hoping to gain has never even noticed them.  How crazy is that!?  I hope other women read this and take from it the same that I took from it.  We really need to stop this needless obsessing over little ‘flaws’ and ‘quirks.’  Sometimes we may be the only one who is seeing them.  As Richard says in the interview, “In my experience, most people (ALL dudes) pay more attention to the ‘big picture’ and not each individual detail.”

I think I needed to hear that.

Secondly, something that Iman said in her opening comments of her article really stood out to me.

“Changing our bodies isn’t as effective as changing our minds.” 
– Iman Woods

How much truth is there to that!?  If my smile was somehow magically straightened, would I think I’m suddenly beautiful?  If the gray disappeared from my hair or a six-pack appeared on my stomach – would that fix my self-image?  Nope.  It sure wouldn’t.  I have to see myself as beautiful just the way I am.  Just like Richard does.

Which brings me to this.  Most importantly, this article has shown me something that I really needed to see.

Richard loves me.

This man really, truly loves me.  And it has nothing to do with my crooked smile or the color of my hair.  He loves me from the inside out.  And isn’t that what it’s all about?  Isn’t that all we want?  For someone to look at us, and really see us…and then to fall in love with what they see?

I’m such a lucky girl.  I am loved…and I am beautiful.

And you know what I’m willing to bet?  So are YOU.

uscutepic

***

“Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.”
– Kahlil Gibran

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20

May. ’13

Dear Me

“A photograph is usually looked at – seldom looked into.”
– Ansel Adams

dearmeblog

I found this old theatre photo of myself as I was digging through a box of photographs over the weekend.  This is from the play “Fiddler on the Roof” and shows me pictured with my ‘stage-husband’ John.  We were 22 and 20 at the time the photo was taken.  I knew John would get a kick out of this as well, so I sent it to him.  After the initial “wow, that takes me back” kind of comments, we both started to realize how much has changed since this photo was taken.  Or rather, how much we have changed.  And in the conversation that ensued, John said something that really made me think. 

Looking at that younger version of himself in the photograph, he remarked, “There is SO much I want to tell that kid.”

Yeah.  Me too. 

So, I think I will.

***

Dear Me,

Wow.  Look at you.  You look like such a little girl; and yet, you’re a 22-year-old married mother of two.  How is that even possible!?  You look so innocent and clueless.  Oh yeah, now I remember. 

You are.

You’re 22-years-old and you’re living in a life that you don’t even recognize.  Just four short years earlier, you moved back to the small area where you were born, after having lived in a multitude of different places due to your military background.  In fact, you had just moved here from a whole separate country.  And you’re feeling just a little lost.

And wow – those past four years have been a whirlwind!  At 18, you were declared to be in remission from the cancer you just battled.  At 19, after finding out you were unexpectedly expecting, you delivered your first child – a beautiful redheaded baby boy.  At 20, you got married, even though you knew it wasn’t the best thing for you to do at the time, but the pressure from family convinced you that you should.  At 21, you delivered redhead #2 – a little girl this time.  And now, here you are in this picture.  22 years old. 

You’re confused.  You’re rebelling.  You’re unsure of yourself.  In fact, I hope you don’t take offense to my saying this, but you’re pretty much a total mess.  And you know it.  But here’s what I want you to know.

It’s ok.

Really.  It’s ok.  Holy crap, kiddo, you’re 22 years old and you’re an unhappily married mother of two kids already.  And a cancer survivor to boot.  No wonder you’re overwhelmed.  No wonder you look for your escape in this world of theatre where you can be anyone you want to be.  No wonder you’re a little bit lonely…there’s not many people your age who have these kinds of things on their shoulders.  You’re different.

And I know you know that.  It’s painfully obvious in all that surrounds you.  But I wish you knew that being different is ok.

In fact, one day, being different is what you’re going to like best about yourself.  You’re going to realize that all that you went through at such an early age made you grow up a little faster than most.  You’re going to realize that you have a deep sense of responsibility because of it.  That you have a deep empathy for others because of it.  That you are drawn to the theatre because it’s filled with others who are just like you.  Right now, you struggle with being involved with the theatre because people in your world tell you that it takes too much of your time.  And that’s not going to change, I’m afraid.  But one day – you won’t care.  One day you’ll come to realize that the reason you’re drawn to this is because it makes you feel like you’ve found your way home.  You’ve found your little island of misfits and it’s where you belong.  No need to try to fight it just because others don’t understand. 

It’s ok.

And your marriage…oh, you poor girl.  He is a good man, and you know he is.  But he’s not the one you were supposed to marry.  And unfortunately, you know this too.  Yes, you do end up breaking his heart.  But I promise you, he’s going to be ok.  And you know something strange?  Even though you’re getting ready to be divorced within the next year, the two of you will end up getting past all of this.  And one day, years from now, I think you’re even going to consider each other friends.  You’re going to work together to raise those little redheads and, even though you’re going to feel overwhelmed at times and feel like you don’t know what the heck you’re doing, they are going to grow up to be some really awesome teenagers.  And the two of you are going to work pretty well as a team in parenting them when the need arises.  I know you don’t want to be so young and already divorced, but I promise you it’s the right thing to do.  I wish you wouldn’t fight it so much.  Sometimes things happen and those things are going to disappoint you.  And sometimes you’re going to have to disappoint others.  But it’s part of the life process, my dear. 

It’s ok.

You’re going to spend the next ten years or more trying to mold yourself into what you think some guy wants.  And that’s sad.  None of your relationships are going to work out because you’ll be so busy trying to be someone you’re not.  Somewhere along the line in the midst of the unique way you grew up – moving from town to town – you somehow mistakenly learned that you have to mold and change yourself to fit your environment.  And this has transferred itself over to your relationships.  I wish you could stop that.  No matter how much you try to fit that square peg into a round hole, it’s not going to work.  You’re going to get your heart broken quite a few times because you’re just going to keep trying and trying to be what people want, rather than just be who you are.  I wish I could stop you from that.  It’s going to be turmoil, and it’s going to make you constantly feel like you’re not good enough.  Oh, how I wish you could know what I know now.

It gets better.

One day, you’re going to finally figure out who the heck you are.  And guess what?  You’re going to realize that you kinda like what you discover.  And you’re going to realize that the best relationships – the real relationships – are the ones with the people who like you.  Not just the ones who love you (you’ll be loved a few times over the years, I promise), but with the ones who like you.  The two don’t always go hand in hand, ya know.  (That’s a very hard lesson to learn.)  But when they do – oh, when they do – it’s nothing short of magical.  Wait for it, sweet girl.  Wait for it.

You’re going to be fine, kid.  You think you won’t right now.  But you will.  You’re smart; you’re funny; you’re talented; and you’re determined.  Those are some unbeatable qualities.  Give yourself credit for them.  They’re going to serve you well.

Now, get back on that stage and do what you love.  Oh, and while you’re at it, give that kid beside you a big hug.  Because even though you may not realize it right now, one day he’s going to be one of your closest friends.  Because you know all of that turmoil that’s going on inside you now?  He’s feeling it too.  And one day, years down the road, the two of you are going to reconnect as adults.  You’re going to realize that you were both going through similar processes way back then – both wading through a sea of outside influences and feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.  You’re both going to finally come to terms with and accept the ways that make you different from some of the others.  And in accepting this, you will see that what makes you different is actually what makes the two of you the same.  And the older you get, the more you’re going to realize that those kinds of connections are rare and precious.  And they’re the only ones that matter.

Keep up the good work, kid.  I’m proud of who you’re becoming.

Love,
Me

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15

May. ’13

Self-Image

selfesteemblog

I remember a friend of mine once asking for help from her Facebook friends about possible upcoming blog topics.  One of her friends commented on her status and told her to “watch for signs” – that you’ll start seeing a common theme popping up in your life and when it does, then you know it’s time to write about it.

Well, it’s time for me to take that advice.

I’ve had it in my head for a while now to talk about how women feel about their self-images.  Ok.  Actually, about my self-image, and how I feel about it, to be more exact.  But that’s not a very comfortable thing to talk about.  Ya know?  It’s hard to admit that you don’t think too highly of yourself.  And even harder to admit that you know that is stupid and you need to change.

But something tells me now may be the time to bite the bullet and just be honest.

I have a wonderful friend, Iman Woods, who has dedicated her life to making women feel great about themselves.  She’s a photographer.  A photographer.  Now, I don’t know about you, but when I hear that someone who is a photographer is also someone who is going to make me feel great about myself – those two facts just don’t belong together.  How could a photographer make me feel good about myself?  I’ve seen me.  And having to see me immortalized in a photograph forever is probably not something that is going to make me feel good.  All it does is showcase all of the flaws in an 8×10 for me and all the world to see, right?  Right?

Wrong.

Check out her site: http://www.imanwoods.com/?page/88267/pinup-empowerment.  This woman can do wonderful things.  With some pretty girly clothes and a little makeup – she brings out the beauty in women that was there all along.  She’s not doing anything to change these women with her work.  She’s just showing them off.  Showing them what they may not be able to see without her help.  This is why she calls her work “photo therapy.”  And I think that she, and her work, are both absolutely beautiful.

Well, in addition to being a photographer, Iman is also a writer.  She posted a blog today about her own self-image and how it has changed over the years.  (See the link here if you want to check it out: http://www.8womendream.com/55706/find-your-body-role-model).  After posting this, she and I discussed it a little and she came up with an idea to interview myself and my boyfriend Richard and combine our responses with regards to how we see ‘me.’  I’m not sure what the end result will be, but I’m pretty excited about the possibility.  I have always loved watching an idea of hers as it comes to fruition.  (And you can bet your patootie, I’ll be posting the link here for you to read it when it does!).  Well, as part of the interview process, my first assignment is this – go through and pick out 5 photos of myself that I love.  Easy, right?

Whoa.

I had no idea how hard this would be.  I am looking through posted pictures of myself on Facebook, and I honestly cannot pick out ones that I like.  Each time I start to choose one, I think, “Well this is wrong…,” or “Well, that is wrong.”  “My hair looks bad in this one.”  “This one makes me look fat.”  “This one makes me look too tall.”  “My boobs look too big in this one.”  (Hey, I’m being honest here.)  Each and every picture holds something that I’m not happy with and don’t want displayed in an upcoming blog article.

What the heck is up with that??

I really don’t think I realized how much my self-image needed work until the past few hours.  Oh, I’d seen clues, of course.  For instance, I compare myself to other women like crazy.  Especially certain women.  I know I need to stop that, but I haven’t figured out how to just yet.  I’m working on it though.

This reminds me of lyrics from the Sara Evans song, “I Keep Lookin:”

“Well  the straight-haired girls, they all want curls
And the brunettes wanna be blonde;
It’s your typical thing – you’ve got yin,  you want yang
It just goes on and on.”

Yep.  That’s me.  I’m not extremely tall by any means, but when I’m standing beside certain short, petite women, I feel like an Amazon.  And I start to wish I was shorter.  (Ironically, one of these particular petite women has always wished she was taller…go figure).  I see a woman with long beautiful straight hair and I despise these wild crazy curls that I was “blessed” with.  And yet, women spend tons of money on curling irons and perms every day.  Again, go figure.  I search the ends of the earth trying to fight the right sports bra to fit my needs and then I see tiny little women not having to worry about that problem and I find myself wishing I didn’t have these giant….well, you know.  And yet, plastic surgeons stay in business for women who’d kill to have this problem.

Sigh.

I’m not the only one who does this, right?  Good grief, what the heck is wrong with us, ladies?

Well, as I have just displayed in this blog, I don’t have a quick fix.  I don’t know the answer to how to make us comfortable in our skin rather than seeing what we falsely deem as “perfection” in others.  All I know to do is this.  Start finding one thing you like about yourself every day.  Just one.  Of course everything you like about yourself doesn’t have to be appearance-related, but since that’s what I’m focusing on here – let’s start with that.

I’ll go first.  I’ll tell you one thing I like about myself.

Ok.  Here goes.

(Gosh, why is it so hard to do this???)

Alright….my legs.  I do, I like my legs.  They’re not too flabby – pretty muscular actually now after a year of running.  They’d probably look great in heels if I’d ever learn to walk in the dang things.  So, there we go.  It’s done.  There’s the one thing I like about myself for the day.  Now, on to trying to come up with something for tomorrow…

Hey, who knows?  Maybe after a few days of doing this, a few weeks, a few months…it’ll be less and less hard to think of something.  Maybe by then we’ll be seeing ourselves in the light that we so easily seem to see others in.  Wouldn’t that be awesome?

Oh, and I almost forgot.  Before I end this blog….since I have to do it anyway, I’ll go ahead and pick one of the photos of myself that I like and post it here.  This is a photo that was taken of me to use as a headshot in a theatre show I did earlier this year.  It took me a while to actually like it (it’s SO close up!), but once I decided it wasn’t so bad, I decided to just go for it.  So, here ya go.

me

There.  I did it.  One down, four to go…

Your turn.

***

“Relentless, repetitive self talk is what changes our self-image.”
– Denis Waitley

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14

May. ’13

Titles

titles

I have a confession to make.

I’m tired of running.

I’m not sure what’s going on here.  Running has been my passion for the past year.  It has gotten me through the tough times, proven to me that I’m tough, led me to a successful half marathon, and so on and so on.  It has been such a defining part of my life for a while.  For a year, I’ve a been a runner.

But here lately, amidst all of the other titles that have been bestowed upon me in my world, “runner” has slipped a little further down the list.

First of all, I’m in the middle of a move.  As someone who has moved about 17.2 million times in her life (possibly a slight exaggeration there), you would think I would be an old pro at it.  But nope.  It still sucks.  Who knew one small house could contain so much JUNK?  Plus, I guess no matter how much you know how much better the end result will be, moving can always be a little sad.  Leaving something behind always is.  So, maybe that’s why I’m tired?  I don’t know.  So, yeah.  Lately, my title of “mover” has bumped out “runner” for first place.

Another title that is inching up to the top is “car owner.”  I’ve been in search of a car for over a month now, ever since my accident.  I’ve been waiting and waiting for the insurance payments to go through so that I could proceed with getting another loan.  Once that finally happened and I was able to get another car, something is wrong with it.  Something minor, hopefully.  And something that the dealership is taking care of.  But in the meantime, I’m still driving a borrowed vehicle and remaining a burden while I wait.  So, yes… the frustrated “car owner” title has bumped itself to the top of the list too.

And, of course, there’s “Mom.”  The mom title is always at the top of the list, but for these past couple of weeks, it has been taking precedence.  Having to get my little “Annie” to all of her play rehearsals is taking up quite a bit of time. (In addition to dance rehearsals and an all-day dance recital over the weekend to boot.)  I wouldn’t trade it for the world, mind you.  I’m extremely proud and honored to be the Mom of such a talented, active little go-getter.  But it sure can be tiring.  So, scootch on over, “runner,” “mom” needs some space.

“Writer.”  Yep, that one is always there.  While running is therapeutic for me, writing is too.  And has been for a little longer than running has – pretty much all of my life, actually.  When the stress gets overwhelming, running my fingers across the keyboard seems to relieve it just a tad.  And it has been a little easier to find time to do that lately, than to find the time to run.  So, “writer” bumps “runner” down a few notches as well.

Oh, how I could go on and on.  So many titles are there fighting their way for first position.  “Girlfriend;” “Daughter;” “Granddaughter;” “Friend;” “Words with Friends player” (Hey – you have your priorities, I have mine); “Employee;” “Bill payer;” “Actor;” etc. etc. etc.  Sometimes, I guess it’s ok to understand that “runner” is still there…it’s just a little lost in the chaos.

So, maybe I’m just tired.  And…maybe with all of the other stresses in my life, I might be just a tad bit irritable.  Maybe.  Oh, ok, I admit it.  I’m irritable.  And maybe – just maybe – I’m directing that irritation towards running and allowing it to slip down the list.  I don’t know why I’m doing that.  It’s not running’s fault.  But I don’t really have to have a reason to be mad at it, do I?  Ask my boyfriend Richard – “reasons” aren’t necessary when it comes to me being irritable.  Maybe I just wanna be.  *Arms crossed* *Pouty face*

*Sigh*

But, alas, just like other temporary irritations in my life – they’re just that.  Temporary.  I’ve been mad at Richard before, and we made it through.  I’ve been mad at my kids before, and the feeling passed.  I’ve been mad at my parents, at my siblings, at my friends.  And yet, it always – always – works itself out.  Why?  Because love is stronger than any passing storm.  Just like the love that I have for the people in my world, the love that I have for running will also endure.  It will return. When the dust settles and the chaos clears, running will still be there waiting for me.  For underneath it all, my title still stands.  Untarnished.

I am a runner.

And I’ll be back.

***

“A woman under stress is not immediately concerned with finding solutions to her problems, but rather seeks relief by expressing herself and being understood.”
– John Gray

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