Tag Archives: friendship

29

May. ’13

Good stuff

receiptblog

Two separate receipts – each with a $100 tip.

You hear about these kinds of things in the news all the time, right?  Some unsuspecting waitress somewhere is left a large tip from some kind, generous patron.  Pretty cool, huh?

These feel-good stories are always nice reminders that there are good people in the world.  But let’s be honest here.  Sadly, it always seems like these stories are far off somehow…like these ‘good people’ in the world aren’t actually in your world.  Right?  When they are just stories that you hear about or read about, they pretty much rank up there with TV shows or movies or books.  They seem ‘made up’ somehow.  Like fairy tales.  Oh, you know they are true – these things really happened to someone.  But when something doesn’t happen close to home, it’s easy to dismiss it and file it in the “that’s not going to happen to anyone I know” category.  You feel me?

Well, not this time.

The picture I posted above?  These are two receipts that were left on the table for my very-pregnant sister, Cathy.  The “Payton” that the handwritten notes are referring to is my soon-to-be-born niece.

And the story gets even better.

The two kind patrons who left these tips?  They were two young soldiers who had just returned from serving overseas.

Wow.

Cathy was moved to tears when she saw this much-needed selfless gift that was left behind for her.  And, frankly, so was I.

I’m not really sure what else I can add to this story.  I think the receipts speak for themselves – they are their own story.  Their own proof that goodness and kindness still exist in this world.  The handwriting, the celebration of a new life, the true generosity (growing up a military brat, I know personally that soldiers don’t easily have $100 bucks laying around to give away), the display of human kindness, of human togetherness….Wow.  Just wow.

I don’t know about you, but this was something I think I needed to see.

Thank you, soldiers.

***

“For it is in giving that we receive.”
-Francis of Assisi

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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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17

May. ’13

Reinforcement

“I love working with an audience.  I love working with actual people who, you know, if they’re moved, you see it.  If you say something they’re stunned by, you see their jaws drop.  If they’re amused, they laugh – that kind of reinforcement, I totally adore.”
– Jane Pauley

As an actress, I really dig the above quote.  There’s just so much truth to it.  When I’m doing a show, I know exactly how the audience feels about it.  If they like it, they’ll smile.  If I did a good job, they’ll clap.  If I was able to move them to tears, they’ll cry.

Don’t you wish it worked like in real life?

Seriously, think about it.  How much of what you feel do you keep inside?  How many chances do you let slip past to tell someone how their everyday, real life ‘performance’ is going?

I’ve been watching my daughter struggle with a very large theatre role.  She’s practically brand new to acting (only small non-speaking roles in prior shows) and has now been cast as the lead.  Now, you don’t have to be involved in theatre to know that being the lead of a show is going to carry some serious weight with it.  Especially when you’re only 13.  And even more especially when you’re a kid who is too hard on yourself like she is.  She expects perfection to come out on the first try (and I’m afraid some of the others involved expect that of her to), and she gets so down on herself when it doesn’t.  Poor kid.

But I’ve started to notice one particular person in the cast who can change her outlook around in an instant.  Appropriately enough, that person is the one who plays “Daddy Warbucks.”  (If you’re not familiar with the show, Warbucks is the one who ultimately adopts little orphan Annie in the end.)  Warbucks is played by our friend Jeff Dreyer.  And let me tell ya – Jeff is phenomenal with my daughter.  She looks forward to the rehearsals when she’s working with him because she is comfortable with him.  He’s so good to her and always tells her what a great job she is doing.  When she makes a mistake, he’s always quick with a, “You’ll get it next time,” or “Don’t be so hard on yourself – you’re doing great.”  I see what a difference this makes in her, and how much better she does after hearing this from him.

Which got me thinking.

How often do we do that for people?  How often do I do that for people?

Someone doesn’t have to be performing on a stage for them to deserve positive feedback.  So much of what those around us do in any given day sadly goes unnoticed.  Things become routine and expected, and therefore no longer outwardly appreciated.  (Every mother knows where I’m coming from, I’m sure.)

So, I want you to think about this.  Is there someone in your life who deserves some recognition?  Some appreciation?  Some verbal applause?

Well, get to it.  Give them some positive reinforcement.  Give them a pat on the back.  Thank them for what they do for you and how much they mean to you.

I’ll start by giving a little shout-out to my boyfriend, Richard.  That man is a true saint at times…especially this week.  I have been stressed to the max.  There’s no one particular huge problem or anything…just a multitude of small things that are adding up and sending me on an emotional rampage.  There have been times this week that I’ve just wanted to crawl under the covers and let the world go on without me while I take a sick day from it all.  But I can’t.  There’s too many people depending on me.  I have to get up and keep moving, whether I like it or not.

And there he is to help.

He has picked up the slack for me so much this week, I can’t even list them all.  He has made phone calls for me and run errands that I didn’t have time to run.  And through it all – through my moods, my ranting, my venting – he has listened and responded with a calm optimism that I can’t help but be influenced by, no matter how hard my stubborn self tries not to be.  I’m a very, VERY lucky girl to have this man in my life.  I hope he knows how much he is appreciated.  I hope he knows what a wonderful boyfriend he is, and how loved he makes me feel.

Good job, Richard.

So, who do you need to thank?  Who makes a difference in your world?  Who needs some applause?

Now is the time.

positive1

***

“Appreciation is a wonderful thing: It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.”
-Voltaire

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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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13

May. ’13

Destiny

“It is such a happiness when good people get together — and they always do.” 
– Jane Austen

I want to tell you about the coolest wedding ever.

I can honestly say that I’ve never attended a wedding that made me want to write about it.  (Not even any of my own.)  But this one?  This one was screaming, “Blog about me!”  And so, I must.

jimrebecca

These are my friends Jim & Rebecca.  As you can see from the picture, they are standing in a theatre, which happens to be where they met.  And thus, where they decided to have their wedding reception.  And let me tell ya – this gal can throw a party!

After a beautiful, traditional, standing-room-only ceremony at a gorgeous little church, everyone headed over to the theatre for the reception.  Not only were the drinks flowing and the many varieties of yummy food waiting to be gobbled up, but the “activities” were a blast.  First and foremost: a photo booth, complete with costumes and accessories.  Oh, how much fun we had in this thing!!  See?

wedding1

Now, you know it was a different kind of wedding reception when my boyfriend Richard’s 12-year-old boy and 10-year-old girl later bragged to my daughter about having to miss the fun.  (She had back-to-back dance recitals that day – her dad had first shift duty, and I later took over for the second.)  Ask yourself how many times you’ve ever heard a kid telling another kid how much fun a wedding reception was.  It even got the ultimate seal of approval from Richard’s son when he deemed it worthy of the TLC show “Four Weddings.”  If a 12-year-old says your wedding is worthy of a TV show, I think you’ve probably done something right.

(FYI – if you’re local and ever want to have this awesome addition to an event you’re having, you can contact the “Prints Charming” company [How cute is that!?] at 336-469-1313.  Couldn’t mention this without crediting the people who made it happen!)

So, in addition to the uber-cool, kid-approved photo booth, there were also little collages set up around the theatre with memorabilia taken from the various shows that Jim and Rebecca have been involved in with Ashe County Little Theatre during the past three years that they’ve known each other.  As a member of this theatre myself, I had such a great time looking back over the memories.

Which brings me to my own little personal recollection of the Jim & Rebecca story.

Jim and I were involved in another theatre together for a few years, and had both talked about our desire to join Ashe County Little Theatre, but had never taken the plunge.  Finally, I decided to audition for a show…but didn’t make the cut.  In fact, I blogged about this if you missed it (https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/02/17/rejection/).  I came back and pouted to Jim that it looked like it just wasn’t meant to be to be a part of that theatre.  Well, as time went by, Jim made his way over himself (I think his first role was in Twelve Angry Men.)  He was thrilled to be a part of the group and often sent me messages about upcoming shows.  I finally found my way back myself and was cast in Harvey.

Now, Jim had told me about this woman that he had met here at the theatre and was quite smitten with, so I was anxious to meet her.  Imagine my surprise, when in walks Rebecca, the director of the show I wasn’t cast in a few years before.

Of course, we laugh about it now.  And I told him at his wedding that he is officially forgiven for being a “traitor.”  😉

But seriously – at one point while I was walking around this beautiful reception in this theatre that has become my second home, I couldn’t help but be overcome with a deep sense of destiny.  You know?  Jim and I both felt a pull to this theatre…and my, how much our lives have changed since we found our way to it.  I, too, met the man I love here.  Not as an actor, but as a friend of a fellow actor.  I first laid eyes on him at this very building.  First held his hand in the fourth row.

Little did Jim and I know how much we needed this.  By finding this theatre, we’ve found our way home.

Here’s to many happy returns for this beautiful couple that I am honored to call my friends.

melissa2

***

“We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet… I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things… all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness.'”
– From the movie, Shall We Dance?

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10

May. ’13

The Bear

hills

So, in all my hustle and bustle with getting ready for this half marathon that I just ran [If you’re new to my blog, here is the link to that one: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/05/04/i-did-it/], I kinda sorta forgot about something.  I’m signed up for another race in July.

The Bear.

*Sigh*

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Holy crap.  Do you SEE this thing?  If you’re local, you probably know all about it.  If you’re not – well look at that picture.  A 1,541 elevation climb in 5 miles up Grandfather Mountain in Linville, North Carolina. They limit the run to 800 runners and slots usually fill up within the first two or three days after sign-ups open.

Oh. Dear. God.  What the heck was I thinking???

Oh yeah, now I remember.

I signed up for this race, and the half marathon, during the time that Richard and I were split up.  I was so incredibly determined to prove to myself that I was tough.  On the outside and on the inside.  I was going to devote my life (and overactive mind) to training for these races and show the world – and me – what I was made of.

Well, that was four months ago.  Richard and I found our way back to each other (yay!) and life is pretty awesome.  So, I have nothing to prove now, right?  No need to climb a dumb ol’ mountain.  It’s allll good.

Except.  Well.  I think I still need to do it.

Turns out, proving to myself that I’m strong didn’t really have anything to do with that breakup.  Actually, I think I have been needing to do this for a very long time.  Sometimes something comes along in your life … whether it be a breakup, a financial crisis, a family problem, whatever … and you suddenly start to see things like you haven’t seen them before.  Your slumbering senses are awakened.  You realize something needs to change.  And once you make that realization, going backwards is not an option.  It’s just not.

I’ve never seen myself as strong before.  I’ve had other people tell me I was.  I can look back on things that I’ve made it through (cancer, divorce, etc.) and realize that I must have been at least somewhat strong to get through it all.  But I didn’t feel strong.  Hearing others say it just didn’t do anything.  I needed to hear me say it.  And I just couldn’t.

And then I discovered running.

I discovered something that gives me strength.  Something that I can do to continually prove to myself that I can do so much more than I realized I was capable of.  With each additional mile and each additional intensity level, I amaze myself with what my body can do.  I just had to train my mind to tell my body it was possible.

And now it’s time to do that again.

I’m sure I won’t be the fastest person up that mountain.  Just like I wasn’t the fastest person to finish that half marathon.  But I’ll tell you what – I sure did run that half marathon faster than I’ve ever run one before.  And I sure will run those 5 steep miles in Linville faster than I ever have run them before too.  That’s a guarantee.

I can do this.  I will do this.  I will climb this mountain in July just like I’ve climbed all of the metaphorical mountains that came before it.  Only this time, I’ll be aware of my strength.  And I will be proud.

Then?  Then, I will file this memory away with all of the others, so that I can recall it the next time I see a mountain in my life that I feel like I won’t be able to climb.  This will remind me that I can.  And I will.

Hmmm.  Maybe that’s what this running thing is about after all.

***

“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.”
– Edmund Hillary

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08

May. ’13

Griffins

griffins1

“We could love and not be suckers. We could dream and not be losers. It was such a beautiful time. Everything was possible because we didn’t know anything yet.” 
– Hilary Winston

I want to tell you a story.

This may just be for my own benefit, I don’t know.  Most of the time I try to write in generalities so a variety of people can relate and possibly see themselves in my writings.  And maybe even sometimes take something away from what I’ve said and apply it to their own lives.  I hope I make a difference somehow by showing that we’re all alike in the ways that really matter.  We all love, we all lose, we all fail, we all succeed…

But this time – this blog – might be a little different.  This time, I may just be writing this one for myself.  It’s a bit more specific.  Because there’s a little something that makes me unique.

When I was a senior in high school, I lived in a foreign country and was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

I probably just lost a few readers right there.  Who can identify with that?  Probably not many of you.  We all have unique stories, though, and I think they need to be told too.  That’s what makes this world beautiful – a mixture of the varied stories from the vast array of people who inhabit it.  Our collective little mess.

So this is my unique story.

This morning I was tagged in a video on Facebook.  My old high school in Giessen, Germany has served its purpose and is now being torn down.  Someone went there and took a short video of what was left of the building.  And what was left of it was the gym.

griffins4

(Photo credit: Celia Morrissey, Class of 1997)

The gym.  Wow.

A flood of memories hit me as the videographer walked through that gym.  And I want to tell you why.

My school was a tiny one.  I graduated in 1996 with a class of about 21 students.  Yep, you read that right.  21.  Look at us.  Wow.

griffins3

So, as you can imagine, we were a pretty close-knit group of people.  A family.  And boy, were we a family of misfits!  We had probably just about every example of nationality, religion, culture, ethnicity and race you could imagine.  We were military kids.  We knew one life – the life of goodbyes and hellos.  The life of constant change, constant adaptation, constant acceptance.  There was no time for prejudices or cliques or hierarchies that exist in a lot of high schools.  For the most part, our parents made very similar salaries, we lived in almost identical housing, and were all trying to make it in a foreign country where our first language was everyone else’s second.  We were the same in the ways that mattered to us at the time, and that blinded us to the ways that we were different.

At the beginning of my senior year, I found a lump on my neck.  My uncle Jeff (who has since passed away) was very close to his sister, my mom, throughout his bout with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, so my mom recognized this symptom right away.  In a flurry of doctor’s appointments and surgeries, it was concluded that I had cancer.  This particular cancer is a blood cancer that affects the immune system.  With my immunity weakened, I wasn’t allowed to attend school.  So, for a little over four months out of my senior year, I was a no-show.  I went through chemo and radiation.  I lost my hair.  I took my SATs in a secluded room away from everyone else.  I missed playing varsity volleyball.  I missed homecoming.  I missed football games.  I missed it all.

But I hardly even knew it.

Because I had so many people keeping me updated.  It was like I was there.  I had notes sent home to me from my friends (actual pieces of paper – not emails – remember those!?) filling me in on all the happenings at school.  I got phone calls every night.  I had brief individual visits from friends at home and at the hospital during the times my immunity was up and visitors were allowed.  In a way, it was like I didn’t miss a thing.

And let me tell you about the day I was able to return to school.

I was terrified.  A lot of people had not seen me yet.  They hadn’t seen my wig.  Or my puffy, swollen face from the chemo.  They hadn’t heard my voice, or lack thereof, from the radiation on my chest and throat.  Even though I knew they all loved me, I was still a 17-year-old girl filled with the fear that my appearance would somehow now determine how I was to be treated.  Not only was I wrong, of course, but I walked into the front doors of the school to see a huge “Welcome Back, Melissa” banner strung across the front hallway, signed by pretty much everyone in the school.  I’ll never forget that moment.  Or many of the moments to follow.  The support I got from that little family was overwhelming.  I remember Ladel Scott hoisting me up and carrying me once when my legs were too weak to carry me up the steps to the second floor.  I remember Luster Walker taking one look at my bruised and swollen hands from too many IVs, and saying that they were still the most beautiful hands he’d ever seen (just like he used to say before I was sick).  I remember our English teacher, Gay Marek, taking one look at all the weight I had lost and promptly exclaiming, “No fair…you cheated.”  🙂  I remember my sweet boyfriend Nathaniel Angelus (who also had to grow up a little faster than most as he basically went through cancer treatments with me) carrying my books and walking me to classes and checking on me every second to make sure I was strong enough to get through the day…and once checking out and going to the hospital with me when I wasn’t.

I could go on and on.  But I won’t.  Because I want to get back to the point.

The gym.

The memory that stands out in my mind, and will always stand out in my mind until the day I leave this Earth, is the last day of my senior year.  We had an assembly in the gym (oh, how many assemblies there were in that little gym…) for the end-of-the-year awards.  The last award to be given was the annual “senior of the year” award.  After battling cancer and still graduating with a 4.0 grade average that year, I was presented this award.  As my name was called and I walked to the stage, the entire school rose to its feet and gave me a standing ovation.  I can’t even type these words without the tears coming all over again.  As that little 17-year-old bald girl looked across all of those smiling supportive faces of her peers, she somehow knew, even then, that this – this – was the stuff life was made of.  At that moment, we knew nothing else.  We didn’t know anything about bills or jobs or kids or divorce.  All we knew was that we loved each other.  And we were survivors.  Each and every one of us.

I’m an adult now.  I’ve lived many places and have seen many people come and go from my life.  But I still hold a special, tender place in my heart for all of those people who shared my world in Giessen, Germany in 1996.  Ours was a bond that will not be broken.  We are Griffins.  Our school may disappear, but our legacy continues.  Like our mascot, we are part lion and part eagle.  Our courage and strength will soar on.

Together.

***

“Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You’ll find what you need to furnish it – memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey.”
– Tad Williams

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06

May. ’13

Now what?

nowwhat

Ok.  The half marathon is over.  I have officially achieved the goal that has been in the back of my mind ever since I started running about a year ago.  I put in the training.  I put in the sweat.  I put in the fear and worry.  And now here I am.  I did it.  I’m a half marathoner!

Sigh.

Now what the heck do I do with myself??

I’m telling you, I was barely home from the race before I was doing an online search to try to find another one.  This girl is hooked!  Now that I’ve felt that euphoric feeling at the finish line, I want to feel it again and again and again.  And I don’t just mean more half marathons.  Yep, that’s right.  I’m even looking into a full marathon.  If I can do a half, I can do a full, right?  Let’s do this!  I’m stoked!

But……I have to be patient.

Sigh.  The biggest dirty word in my vocabulary, and it starts with a “P.”  Patience.  Blech.

I have oftentimes made reference to how running and relationships have a lot in common.  Especially for me.  And I think this is going to be another good example.  (And, as I’ve discovered since I’ve started blogging…this will probably ring true for a lot of you as well.  I’ve never been more aware of how alike we all really are until I started this blog and got so much feedback from all of you about how you’ve identified with so many of the things I’ve said.  Isn’t it nice to know we’re all in this together?)

So, I have often felt myself feeling this same feeling of euphoria at times during a relationship.  You have a good night out together…a sweet, tender moment…a milestone of some sort, and suddenly, you start to get a little ahead of yourself.

“Look how well we look in that picture…we are PERFECT for each other!”

“Look what a good weekend we had…I want to spend every waking moment with him/her!”

“Look how much we enjoy being together…we should get married!”

Whoaaaa now.

I’m not the only one who has been guilty of these thoughts, and I know it.  I have female friends.  I’ve heard them echoed from them as well.  Why the heck do we do that?  Why do we get in such a hurry to push past the happy moments of “now” into what we think will be the happier moments of “tomorrow”?

Chill!

Ya know?  Just chill.

Bask in the moment.  Enjoy it for a while.  Enjoy this stage and celebrate this victory, this success, and don’t be in such a hurry to get to the next stage.  Because you know something about that next stage?  That next stage is hard.  Getting to this point you’re at now wasn’t all that easy, remember?  There were tough times where you thought you wouldn’t make it.  Obstacles that almost stopped you.  Outside influences that almost kept you from your goal.  Am I talking about running or relationships here?  What’s the difference really?  Whether we’re talking about sore muscles and sweat in training, or awkward misunderstandings and arguments with dating, this same thing stands true.  Each phase takes work.  Hard work.  And yes, the end result is rewarding and it is worth it.  It’s wonderful.  But there are no shortcuts.

None.

So, rather than being in such a hurry to jump to the next phase, maybe it’s ok to hang out here for a while.  The next phase will be there when you’re ready.  In fact, the more time you decide to wait to start that next phase, the more prepared you’ll be.

And the more prepared you are, the more glorious the result.

***

“There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.”
– Beverly Sills

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04

May. ’13

I did it!

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”
– T.S. Eliot

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Well, it’s official.  I’m a half marathoner.

And let me tell ya…it was HARD!  This course was definitely no walk in the park.  (Ok, admittedly there was some walking, but there was NO park. I swear.)

I really am so proud of myself.  Somewhere deep inside of me, I truly wondered if I could do it.  During my long training runs, my legs were so heavy and so weak.  I never made it up to a full 13.1-mile run in training (11 was my furthest), so I was so scared that I might not actually be able to make it that far.  Especially on this extremely tough course.  It helped me though to see quotes like the one by marathoner Alberto Salazar:  “I had as many doubts as anyone else. Standing on the starting line, we’re all cowards.”  Made me feel less alone.  Made me realize that what I was feeling was what most everyone feels or had felt at some point in their running process.  Even elite marathoners.

But, alas, I did it.  I made it!

And here’s a short list of awesome things from the race:

  • I made a running buddy along the course.  He was an older man from the Winston-Salem, NC area.  Silly me – I didn’t even ask his name. Nor did he ask mine.  But we leap-frogged each other throughout the race.  Kept each other company at times.  Chit-chatted about our jobs, our families, etc.  It was nice running a half-marathon and having a conversation every so often.
  • I saw a shirt that said “Slow and steady, my ass! This is my top speed!”  That made me giggle.
  • I saw a shirt that said “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1).”  That made me smile.
  • I saw my friend Kelly who broke her foot during training for this race, out there running anyway after only having been out of her cast for about 2 or 3 weeks now.  I was in awe.
  • I got “I love you” and “You got this!” texts from the man I love during the race. Priceless.
  • I got “Run Forrest Run!” texts from my coworker during the race.  Sigh.
  • I got close to the finish feeling like I might not make it, and rounded a curve and saw my boyfriend Richard’s friends (ok, my friends) standing on the side to cheer me on – the same people who I cheered on during their half marathons and marathons in New York last year. That made me cry.
  • I got to the finish line and saw Richard and my son Jeffrey waiting for me (after their own 5K race) with smiles and cheers.  And saw my son (who never ever EVER remembers or cares to take a picture of anything) poised with his camera waiting to snap a picture of me crossing the finish line.
  • I got this from my boyfriend as a post-race gift:

meshirt

The shirt says “13.1 wuz worth it.”  And yes, it was.  Awesome gift.  Awesome man.  Lucky girl.

And probably my favorite moment from the race:

  • My son’s dad called him to see how the race went.  And without missing a beat, Jeffrey immediately began telling him my finishing time and details from the half marathon.  Momentarily forgetting that he himself had just finished second in his age group in his own 5K and won an award for it.  Talk about a proud mom.  That definitely started the waterworks flowing, and I’m not sure he even realized what he had done.  In fact, I’m sure he didn’t.  Feeling my son’s pride in me was like nothing else.

I know there are a million more things I could list that I loved about this race.  But those are the highlights.  Point is – this was a beautiful experience that I won’t soon be forgetting.

So, in honor of all that I have overcome in training for this race, and in life in general – two divorces, two bouts with cancer, a bad car accident during training, a breakup at the beginning of training (which ended up in a glorious reconciliation mid-training), and just a general past filled with doubt and uncertainty about myself and my abilities – this race is for you.

I can do anything.

And so can you.

***

“The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”
-John Bingham

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