On Being Real...

Rain.  It brings out the melancholy in me.  Sometimes that's very welcome - like when I need to sleep.  Other times I wish it would just...go away.

I'm reflecting on something my dear friend Jamie said recently.  She commented on my last post, saying how much she enjoyed reading it.  "It's so real," she said with a huge smile on her face.  I do want to talk about Jamie's smile for a moment.  I know she doesn't realize this, but she has a beautiful smile.  There is a light within her that illuminates everything and everyone around her when she lets it shine.  Her smile is infectious.  It is warm.  It is comfort.  It is beautiful.

The words she chose - it's so real - were a huge compliment to me, though I wondered really what they meant. I started this blog after my dad passed as a form of therapy.  I have always found comfort in the written word and often it is the way I choose to communicate.  Not because I am afraid to talk, but because when I write I can process my thoughts so my words say exactly what I mean them to say -- good or bad.  Sometimes when we speak we don't get it all out.  Likewise, we don't always chew on words before we spit them out.  Anyone that knows me well, who is part of my inner circle, has been subjected to my written word - an email, a text, a card, or a note, more than once.  My words at times are eloquent and beautiful.  Other times they are caustic and they bite.  Either way, rest assured, I am fully conscious of the message they are sending.  That's what being real is to me...getting it all out, nothing hidden, no pretenses, presenting myself exactly as I am, flaws and all, and just saying to the universe, this is me.  I am neurotic.  I am insecure but also confident.  I make mistakes.  I try hard.  I love hard.  I hate hate - in any form.  I laugh.  I cry.  I've been through some ish'.  But I'm still standing.  My journey continues.  God is not done with me yet.

It took a very long time for me to do the self reflection that is so necessary to nurturing one's soul.  As a "tween" I was very awkward and very shy.  I spoke softly...so softly that my dad used to encourage me, very sternly, to speak up.  "Don't you ever get sick of people saying what to you?" he would ask.  That shyness stuck with me all the way through my 20's.  Not that it showed.  I somehow managed to be a social teenager despite the awkwardness I felt on the inside.  I connected well with all kinds of kids - the shy and quiet ones; the bookworms; the jocks; those that partied a lot; the popular and the unpopular; and I was able to adapt my behavior to whatever group I was with at the time.  There seemed to be something about the vulnerability that made all of the "clicks" simply adopt me.  Thus, I was never not surrounded by friends.  I enjoyed all of the things a typical teenage girl enjoys - proms, parties, breaking curfew, and riding in cars with boys (and even a motorcycle now and then).  But despite the seeming popularity, internally I was a mess.  I was not comfortable in my own skin.  I looked in the mirror and didn't like what I saw.  I hated my body.  I did not think I was "pretty."  I wanted to be like the pretty girls - which of course meant skinny.  But I would never be skinny, so imagine how empowering it is, at this stage of my life, to have the accepted standard of beauty embrace all body types.  Yes indeed, fat bottom girls do make the rockin' world go round!

Adulthood is not easy, and each of us comes to it at a different time and different place.  I see some 40 somethings that run around like they are 25.  And I see some 25 year olds that you would swear are 40.  As I sit and watch my own son grow in to adulthood, I see so much of myself in him.  My son is kind, quiet, polite, a very hard worker, and a wonderful son.  He is shy...so very shy...and he struggles with verbal communication, especially when really pushed to speak up.  He is trying to find his way in this world and I want to reassure him that it will be all right.  Don't get me wrong..he is doing really terrific!  He has his own apartment, a brand new (or nearly brand new) car, a great job with a salary that took me almost 20 years to earn, and he gets to enjoy just about anything he wants to.  But there is something about being out on your own that is a learning experience every day.  Like when he went to the dentist for the first time on his own health insurance and realized his dentist...the one he's had since childhood...doesn't take his insurance and thus he had to pay out of pocket.  Like car repairs are costly.  Like living in an apartment in a building that belongs to someone else, even if it is your father, means that you can't really do anything you want to do because the landlord has the final say.  Like paying bills and being grown up is really great...but stinks at the same time.

I sheltered my son...and for the record, I don't think that's a bad thing.  I know we live in a world where the term helicopter mom is thrown about and has negative connotations.  I don't know if I was necessarily a helicopter mom though I know I was, and continue to be, a protective one.  My parents were not helicopter parents yet they were, and continue to be, protective ones.  They gave me enough room to grow, yet somehow always knew what was going on in my life even if I didn't spill it to them.  Their home was, and continues to be, a safe haven for me.  Not that I've needed it...for all intents and purposes, I've lived on my own since I was 18 years old.  But I do remember several years ago when I was struggling financially.  I mentioned to my dad, in a joking kind of way, that I might have to move back home with him.  Without hesitation, without batting an eye, and almost instantaneous, his response was "if you need to, that'd be fine dear."  My dad always called me dear.  He wasn't a man that was openly demonstrative all the time.  But there was something so warm about the way he used that term with me.  Yes, me, my son, my two cats (no Coco at the time), and all my "stuff" would always be welcome at my dad's.  And what a tremendous comfort that was to me.  I know I've had this conversation with my son as he learns to live independently.  I do often wonder if I did him a disservice by being so protective of him.  But then I see the man that he is and I am so proud of him. He doesn't drink or do drugs.  He never went to parties or hung on the streets.  He goes to work every day...no matter how tired he may be.  He is kind to children, animals, seniors and everyone he meets.  He is respectful.  And the conversations we have now about all kinds of things, even limits, make me realize that I did ok, although I wasn't the June Cleaver mom that we all think we should be.  I tried.  And I am pretty sure he knows that.  And I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a good mom.  I am the parent he turns to when he wants to talk; when he needs something; when he sees something funny and just wants to share it; when he wants to do something and suggests the idea for "us," ...and all these things make me so very happy.

The last couple of years have been a transitional time for me.  I work hard.  Very hard.  I keep crazy hours and I am on call around the clock.  That's the availability I've fostered over the years and for a while I was perfectly fine with it.  What strikes me is that I'm not really fine with it any longer.  That doesn't mean I don't love my job and care so much for the people we serve, because I do.  I am passionate about my cause.  No one would question that.  But when you are sitting vigil by your father's bedside because he is passing, and your cell phone continues to ring and the text notification continues to go off despite the fact that everyone knows where you are and why, you do realize that you've fostered the wrong kind of importance in your life.  And thus I set out to change.  And let me tell you something...change is not easy.

It's funny how people react to you when you are going through change.  Some support you.  These are the ones that you know are true.  They are completely ok with you improving the quality of your life and root for you.  Encourage you to stay on track.  Others try to keep you in the place you've been.  That's how you know who is real in your life and who isn't.  Yes, change has been an eye opening experience for me.  But it's also brought me a newfound awareness of the chains that I've placed myself under.  It feels good to break them.   No, what I mean is that it feels good to be breaking them.   I'm learning to set boundaries.  I'm finally letting go of things that don't feed my soul.  I'm opening myself up to new experiences.  I'm listening to the universe.  At the same time, I'm learning to forgive myself.  I've made mistakes.  A lot of them.  Who hasn't?  The thing about mistakes, I think, is that you keep repeating them until you are ready for the change.  There's a quote...something like "change occurs when the change of pain is less than the pain of remaining the same."  That's where I'm at.  Change is finally less painful for me than the pain of staying the same.

I've enjoyed the changing process.  Setting boundaries is empowering.  Coming in to your own is empowering.  Getting up after you've been knocked down is empowering.  Lifting others up - even those that have tried to keep you down - is empowering.  This period of my life is one that I feel good about.  I want to experience new things.  I want to have down time and enjoy it. I want to be around people that are positive influences.  I want to be around people that see me - really see me - and like what they see.  Not physically.  Intellectually and spiritually.  I want deeper connections and this is what I want to give.  And I don't just mean with intimate partners.  I also mean with family and friends.  And yes, with a partner, on an intimate level, I want true intimacy.  Not just amazing off the chain sex. I want to feed my soul.  I want something real...because that's what I want to give.   I know in order to have that, I have to be willing to be completely naked.  I have to let any would be suitor know that I am neurotic.  I am insecure but also confident.  I make mistakes.  I try hard.  I love hard.  I hate hate - in any form.  I laugh.  I cry.  I've been through some ish'.  But I'm still standing.  My journey continues.  God is not done with me yet.

The Reality Of It is....

Good morning blogger land!  I hope this post finds you well.  It's been a while since I've written.  Life has gotten in the way a bit, but if we're to be honest then I must tell you I haven't written because I've had trouble finding the words.

These past several weeks have been busy.  But that is what I do when I don't want to deal...I turn inward, focus on work, and become a bit of a recluse until I am once again ready to greet the morning sun.  We all go through those periods, and we all deal with them differently.  How I choose to deal is different from every one of you.  What I find profound about that statement is that we're all guilty of not remembering that.  We're all guilty of judging how others choose to "deal," myself included.  I've also been on the other side of that - most recently this week.  And while it initially stung, I do recognize that we are all unique individuals, with our own journeys, our own stories, our own pain, and our own methods of coping.  So perhaps the person that lashed out at me this week for how I chose to "deal" was lashing out because that is how they deal.  Perhaps their defense mechanisms leave little room for tolerance.  And perhaps the best way I can show my understanding is just that - to understand.

I've been processing so much lately.  Work pressures.  The reality of the losses in my life.  The reality of how they've impacted me on a personal and physical level.  The reality of the choices I've made and the work I must do to clean it all up.  It is very true that God, in whatever form you envision him to be, keeps placing things in front of us until we get it right.  We all struggle with that.  Things that we have ourselves so convinced that we want and need, that we justify action after action and choice after choice.  Yet the longer we hang on to that "thing" the more it wreaks havoc in our lives.

I set out on a journey after my dad's passing to do things differently, to be healthier emotionally and physically, to balance my life, and to not accept anything less than what I want.  Staying on this course has not been easy.  I'm blessed that I have the support of many - my family first and foremost.  No matter what, my family is with me and I know how much of a gift that is.  Not everyone is privileged to be surrounded by people that love them, root for them, and pick them up when they fall.  I have the support of my family and that is absolutely priceless.  My friends.  My true friends.  The ones who never bat an eye when I lash out.  The ones that I can sit with, tears and mascara streaming down my face, or alternatively in complete silence, and I am not judged either way.   The ones that saw me in the hospital three years ago at my absolute worst and still managed to bring silly props so we could take selfies and turn a low moment into a realistic yet empowering one.  My nurse friends that work in the hospital, that checked on me several times a day and that, while maybe they weren't supposed to, took the time to draw my blood because they know how difficult of a patient I can be, despite that I am so often a champion for others.  (I know many of you have no idea that I was in the hospital and you want to know what happened. So let's just get it out of the way.  I had bleeding ulcers - seven of them - self caused by years of abusing over the counter pain medication.  My doctor warned me that the "headaches" I was getting were rebound headaches from all the medication.  I didn't listen, ended up in the hospital with so much blood loss that the E.R. doctors were scratching their heads in disbelief that I was still walking and talking.  Surgery, three blood transfusions and three days later, I went home.  The good news - haven't really had a headache or taken any Excedrin or Advil since then.  Lesson learned).

Now back to the subject at hand.  It takes discipline to change your life.  It takes self reflection to know that what you've settled for in the past is no longer good enough.   People will remember the old you - the things that you accepted before and they will try and treat you now as they did then.  I am not saying that with any kind of shade being thrown at anyone.  But let's use an example.  I am on a journey to get healthier physically.  I am seeing a nutritionist and am on a pretty strict eating plan.  Everyone that I am very close to knows this.  So when you suggest that we get together for lunch, don't suggest a place that serves nothing but greasy fried burgers.  I will retain the water for days from the sodium build up.  Yes we used to enjoy those things - but I am on a journey now.  Suggest a place that serves a nice salad.  

But that's just one, very simple, example.  My journey is about more than physical health. It's also about emotional health. Removing toxicity from my life and not compromising on what I truly want. This especially pertains to dating.  Let's face it ladies.  There are a ton of hot, sexy men out there that would jump in bed with us in a heartbeat.  And that's ok if that's what you're looking for.  But that's not what I'm looking for.  I am beyond superficial at this stage of my life.  I want commitment, a partner, someone that respects me, and someone that builds me up and likewise, someone that I build up, too.  Someone that understands where I've been,  where I want to go and is coming along for the ride, because they absolutely see that I am worth the effort. No,  I am not perfect.  I have some "stuff" that I am still trying to work out.  Along this journey to make myself better, I will stumble.  I will say and do the wrong thing at the wrong time and it will irritate the crap out of you.  But my gosh...I am worth every amount of frustration that you may feel.  Because on the flip side of that, there is this person.  And she is kind.  She has a beautiful soul.  She is smart, funny and successful.  She is independent.  Fiercely independent.  She has strong beliefs and stands up for them.  She tries to do the right thing, every single day.  She's not bad to look at.  She has a pretty good sense of style.  She is a great mom - not a perfect one - but a great one.  She is a good daughter, a good friend, a good mentor to many.  She doesn't tear other people down and in fact, daily and consciously, builds people up.  She holds no prejudice.  She likes the arts, embraces all kinds of music, can cook a decent meal, keeps her house pretty immaculate.  She is a great conversationalist and connects well with people no matter their chosen path.  She has a smile that will light up any room and eyes as blue as the sky on a clear and sunny day.  She is loyal to a fault and no matter what, when you are part of her circle, she is there for you.  And yet she is stubborn.  So very stubborn and she will drive you absolutely insane...and you will never truly be able to forget her....

This all sounds very arrogant.  But the reality of it is....I didn't always believe these things.  I set out on a journey to find inner peace, to improve the quality of my life, to make positive changes that require me to make different choices.  And here I am, reeling from a week where I was judged for the way I chose to "deal" with demons that surface every now and then, despite how much I try to keep them in check.  I am no where near where I need to be.  But the fact that I can now see my worth and not let the actions of others cripple me, is so very empowering.

No, I am no where near where I need to be, but I am in a way better place than I have ever been.   And if you choose to not be with me on this journey, I accept that.  And I move forward, graciously thankful for the experiences I've had that are helping to shape who I am becoming.

Yes, the reality of it is...that I didn't always see the value of me. But I see it now.