Tag Archives: relationships

03

Jun. ’13

Warrior Dash (or, as I like to call it: “Hell”)

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Awww.  Look at the happy little couple with their little bibs on ready to conquer the Warrior Dash!  Bless their little hearts.

Ahhh, the Warrior Dash.  For those of you who aren’t familiar, this is a 5K obstacle course mud run.  We (ok, Richard) had been looking forward to this for a long time.  This is an all-day event, with different race waves starting every 15 minutes from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.  Our official start time was supposed to be at 12:30 (this was the only slot available when we signed up – these things sell out fast), but we quickly learned after we got there that it really didn’t matter which start time you chose.

The start times were about as disorganized as everything else was.  *Sigh*  But I’m getting ahead of myself….

Ok, here’s what we forgot to notice in this cute little picture.

One – a random flag floating mid-air over my right shoulder.  Um.  What the heck?!  Ok, that has nothing to do with the story I’m about to tell, but I just had to point that out.  Freaky, much?

And two – the angry chick to my right.

Ok, let me point them out for you:

warriordashpic2

Ok, so although the ghost flag is pretty awesome, let’s concentrate on Angry Chick for a minute.  Because that represents what my story is going to revolve around.

Angry Chick is angry.  I don’t personally know Angry Chick, mind you.  But I know a little something about how Angry Chick feels now.  Angry chick is covered in mud, has a medal around her neck, has a fierce look on her face, and is holding a beer.  I’m going to tell you how Angry Chick got that way.  And I’m going to tell you how Richard and I soon joined Angry Chick in Angrychickville.  (Ok, Angrydudeville in Richard’s case).

Let me give you a nice little overview.  Here is a comment that a participant placed on the Warrior Dash Facebook page after the race:

“Warning to warriors: There are far more obstacles than advertised in this race! The first unpublished obstacle required you to stand in line for almost an hour in the sun to get your registration packet from the six people they had working to check in ten thousand runners. While standing in line, you had to try to avoid getting shoved into the back of the sweaty fat guy in line in front of you.  The next obstacle was to try to make it to your heat on time after standing in line for so long. (We were only an hour late.) The next few obstacles were pretty easy, they only involved jumping over fire and crawling under barbed wire. The mud pit was very challenging thanks to the concrete-like consistency of the mud. But that’s nothing compared to the next obstacle. This one required you to get rinsed off from the one guy with a hose who was rinsing off one person at a time. Given these obstacles, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll be attending another Warrior Dash….” – James Lewis

Yeah.  THAT.

Oh my gosh, this race was horrible.

As described in the comment above, we knew we were in for a disorganized mess when we couldn’t even find the line to pick up our packets.  There were just gobs and gobs of people standing everywhere.  Once we finally somewhat figured out where to stand, we stood there for at least 30 minutes before we looked around and realized that this group was only men.  We couldn’t see the tiny little signs WAY up at the front of the line that said women’s sign-ins were to the left and men’s were to the right.  So, in an extremely non-typical move for myself, I did what most everyone else was doing.  I cut in line.  I’ll be darned if I’m going to stand in that scorching heat (92 degrees at that point) for another half hour.  First rule of warriordom?  Each man (woman) for themselves.

To quote another witty Warrior Dash participant’s Facebook page comment:

“I want my medal to say ‘I survived the packet pick up.'” – MK Turner

EXACTLY.

So, after the torture of waiting to get signed up, we then stood in another slightly less long line to check our bag.  All in all, the whole process only took an hour and a half.  No biggie.  AN HOUR AND A FREAKIN HALF. In 92 degrees.  With no water.  Before a race.

So, once the race finally started – at first, it wasn’t too bad.  Well, sorta.  Did I mention it was hot?  Now, mind you, Richard and I are both half-marathoners.  But at the 0.5 mile mark?

Me:  You wanna walk?
Richard:  Oh dear God, I thought you’d never ask.

The obstacles were admittedly pretty fun, I’ll have to say.  Well, maybe fun isn’t the word.  Gratifying?  Maybe that’s it.  You just felt somewhat accomplished after completing them – even if you were on the brink of death from heat exhaustion.

Ok, did I just say the obstacles were fun?  Let me rephrase.  Most of the obstacles were fun.  Until the last one.

The mud pit.

Oh, dear God.  The mud pit.

Now, we were well aware that there would be a mud pit.  That’s part of the draw.  We were ready to get dirty.  No problem.  Bring it on, yo.

But holy llamas – what the hell was that??  That wasn’t mud.  That was brown cement.  Brown cement that almost took my life.  And I’m not exaggerating.  Not in the least.  Even calm-mannered, non-dramatic Richard will tell you the same thing.  It was so incredibly thick that you could barely move.  And you didn’t realize this until you were halfway through it and there was no way out.  It was like quicksand.  We were in all the way up to our chin and couldn’t move at all.  Each step propelled us maybe an inch.  Maybe.  The only redeeming factor is that the people behind you who were also ‘in too deep,’ so to speak, saw what you were going through and knew they would soon be in your place (there was no other way to go but forward), so they were reaching down in the mud and trying to help dislodge your foot from the muck it was sunk down into to help push you forward.  Honestly, I don’t know if I would have gotten out of the pit if it wasn’t for the girl behind me.  And again, that’s no exaggeration.

Eventually, though, after lost shoes, lost shirts, a lost Mason ring (it still makes me sick to my stomach to think of Richard losing that…), and lost energy and drive to ever do any race ever again, we managed to stumble across the finish line.  Together.  30 pounds heavier from the mud, but still upright and breathing.  Barely.  I cringe to think of what that finish line picture looks like.  I just hope I didn’t flip the camera off, because at this point, I cannot be held accountable for anything that happened in the delirium that followed the mud pit escapade.

Oh yeah, and as if that weren’t enough….there was ONE MAN with ONE WATER HOSE to try to clean off about 10,000 muddy people.  I’m sure you can imagine how well that went over.  At one point, the little sprinkles of water I was managing to get hit with only did nothing but serve to get mud in my eyes, which I could not remove because there was not one single solitary piece of my body that wasn’t covered with even more mud.  So, eyes closed, I asked Richard to bend down and I managed to use the only available thing within reach – the one tiny little spot on the top of his head that didn’t have mud on it.  Yes, I rubbed my eyeball in one little inch of mudless hair on my boyfriend’s head.  Look, people, in times of war, you do what you have to do.

Oh dear God, I could go on and on trying to describe the water hose process more, but frankly, I’m sick of talking about this race.

I’m done.

We got our free beer for completing the race (ok, Richard got his two free beers since I don’t drink the nasty stuff); we laid in the sun for over an hour to try to let the mud dry so we could scrape it off before getting back in the car to head home; we stood in another 30-minute line to get our bag back; we put our dumb ol’ hats and dumb ol’ capes on in the scorching heat and snapped a picture to commemorate the misery; and we hauled our exhausted butts home.

So, Angry Chick, wherever you are, we are now members of the same club.  We have survived this near-death experience of a race and will live on to tell our grandchildren about the time we almost died during a 5k.  We are survivors, right?

Yes, my fellow angry friend, we are warriors. 

warriordashpic3

Hooah!

(And, oh heck, who am I kidding?  We’ll probably see ya next year.  I mean, ‘hope springs eternal’ and whatnot, right?  Surely it couldn’t get any worse than this.  Could it?)

Sigh.

***

“All life is an experiment.  The more experiments you make, the better.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

P.S.  This particular Warrior Dash was in Huntersville, NC, on June 1, 2013.  From what I have heard, not all Warrior Dashes are like this disorganized mess.  Just wanted to throw that disclaimer in there on their behalf.

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , . 8 Comments

31

May. ’13

Moments

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Awwww.  How sweet.

Ok, I’ll get back to this picture in a minute.  First – let me tell you a little something about myself.

I’m a jerk.

Oh yeah.  It’s true.  When I’m upset about something, I become an inconsiderate, irrational know-it-all who cannot see anyone else’s point of view but my own.  Especially when I’m already tired or stressed to begin with.  Anyone else like that, or am I all alone here in Jerkville?

Now, my boyfriend definitely knows this about me.  He has been a prisoner in Jerkville a few too many times.  And sometimes he likes to put a positive spin on this aspect of my personality by referring to it as my being passionate.  Passionate.  *Giggle*  (He missed his calling as a politician.)

But, then there are other times.  The times when he’s fed up and has had enough of the scenery in Jerkville and is ready to go home – that’s when he’ll call it like it really is.  He says I get crazy.

Ok, I’ll admit it.  Both are true.  Sometimes I’m passionately crazy.  But it’s because I feel things.  You know?  I feel them to my core.  There’s no half-assing it with me.  (Pardon my French.)  When I feel it, I feel it.

Now, sometimes that’s a good thing.  Sometimes it’s a wonderful thing actually.  I know I love with all of my heart, and then some.  I’d go to the ends of the earth for you if you’ve managed to win my heart.  And honestly, I kinda like that about myself.

But when the tide turns?  Ohhhh boy.  When the tide turns, it’s not such a good thing anymore.  It can get ugly fast.  Yep – it’s a flaw.  My biggest flaw, perhaps.  I admit it.

I, Melissa Caudill, am a flawed human being.  

I know, I know….shocking, isn’t it?  I thought I was perfect too!  But nope.  Turns out, I’m not.  Who knew!?

So, with all of that said, I want to tell you about something that happened in my latest argument with my honey.  Now, he is the exact opposite from me.  Polar opposite.  His way to handle a problem?  Clam up; don’t talk; wait for it to pass.

Bless his heart.

Now, you read all that stuff I just said about me, right?   If you were a fly on the wall during one of our spats, I can assure you you’d be quite entertained.  Honestly, though – (and don’t tell him this) – I admire him for the way he is.  In the same way that he admires my being “passionate,” I admire his being level-headed.  Calm.  Well, that is, until I’m pissed.  And then?  Then I think he’s….well….crazy.  Unhealthy.  A ticking time bomb.  He needs to let that junk out of his system!

In other words, I guess we’re both flawed.  It just happens to be in exact opposite ways.

Well, last night – as it has a few times in the past – those flaws came into play during a stupid argument.  I wanted to talk; he didn’t.  So, I marched my crazy self over to his house to make him talk.  When I first got there, he was asleep.  (Asleep?  Asleep!?  You think that is an excuse not to text me back??) 😉  After an unwelcomed chuckle from his half-asleep ramblings (he saw me and said in a slurred voice, “What are you doing in the band room?”…oh my gosh, I can’t even type that without laughing again – what the heck was that boy dreaming about?…), we got down to business.  We (I) ranted and raved and discussed every little thing each of us have ever done wrong in our lives from the time we exited our mother’s wombs.  Or, at least it seemed like that. Then, eventually, we chilled out and finally actually discussed the issue like we should have all along.

We’re fine now.  We still have problems, and always will (we’re human), but this catastrophe was avoided at least.

Now, back to the picture I posted at the beginning.  (See? I’m telling you this story for a reason.  And you thought I was just rambling….)

At one point during the argument, he got up and went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water.  (I know, right!?  How dare him walk away when I’m ranting…)  He came back into the room, and I took a deep breath and resumed where I had left off without missing a beat.  And in the midst of my continued rant, you know what he did?

He handed me a drink of water.

Here I was, hoarse from all the fussing at the poor man, and he hands me a drink of water to help me continue.

Isn’t that amazing?  You can be irate at someone – think that they are the craziest, most insane, irrational person alive – and yet when you love them, you still make sure they’re comfortable.  Make sure they know you love them.

These are the moments, people.  Not the candlelit dinners, not the flowers, not the cute little pet names.

The times the people you love are being anything but loveable – and you love them anyway.  The parent tucking in the child that just screamed “I hate you!” at them just before they fell asleep; the pet that still runs up to you and welcomes you home when you’ve left it alone all day; the adult child of an Alzheimer’s patient still patiently lifting a spoon to the mouth that curses them in confusion; the boyfriend who hands a drink of water to the woman who has just hurt his feelings.

These are the moments.

Don’t forget to notice them.  OK?

***

“Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.”
– Peter Ustinov

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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

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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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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*

bearprofile2

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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07

May. ’13

Decisions

“A lot of people don’t want to make their own decisions.  They’re too scared.  It’s much easier to be told what to do.”
– Marilyn Manson

See that quote?  Yeah, Mr. Manson was talking about me.

Oh my gosh, I so hate making decisions.  I suck at them.  Anything from where we’re going out to eat to what kind of car I’m going to buy to what pair of shoes I’m going to wear for the day – I hate them all.  I want someone to walk around my life with me and tell me what to do.  I want them to point it all out for me.  Lead the way.  Basically, I just don’t want the responsibility for determining an outcome.  If the wrong choice was made and there were bad consequences, I want that to be someone else’s fault, not mine.

But apparently, this whole ‘grown-up’ crap doesn’t allow for that.  I’m stuck.  I have to make decisions whether I like it or not.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were signs like this along the way?

wrongway

Now, see?  If I knew I had road signs in my life to direct the course, I’d be in good shape.  I’d have a lot less to stress over, I know that.  Wrong decision?  No biggie!  Here’s you a little sign telling you to turn around and re-do it.  Easy peasy.

Don’t I wish.

But I guess what I need to do is realize that while, yes, there may be a bad outcome if the wrong decision was made, there could also be a pretty awesome outcome if the right decision was made.  You know?

I guess that’s maybe what it all comes down to.  A fear of making decisions is really just a lack of confidence in yourself.  I guess I never really thought of it that way.

Hmmm.  I should probably stop that.

After all, I’ve made some pretty great decisions in my life at times.  I can think of two wonderful decisions right off the bat.  Those little decisions have bright red hair and make me laugh every single day.  I think I did an excellent job there.  What else?  Well, I made the decision to continue with school when I wanted to quit (being 19, pregnant, and in college was a tough row to hoe, let me tell ya).  I decided to continue taking various classes here and there after graduating which led me to the legal field.  I made the decision to end a marriage where I wasn’t fully allowed to be myself.  I made the decision to pursue my passion in theatre.  I made the decision to start running.

I made the decision to start this blog.

You know, now that I think of it, maybe I’m not such a bad decision maker after all.  I think I’m going to start remembering that.  Starting today, I’m just going to go for it.  When it’s time to make a decision, I’m going to just trust my instincts and jump.  What’s the worst that could happen?  You live, you learn.  You may fall sometimes, sure.  But there are also going to be times that you fly.

And I don’t know about you, but I think I’d rather fly with a few tough landings here and there, than to never leave the ground at all.

***

“It doesn’t matter which side of the fence you get off on sometimes.  What matters most is getting off.  You cannot make progress without making decisions.”
-Jim Rohn

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