Now…

Posted by Denise on May 15, 2012 in Blog | 6 comments

I’ve been waiting for now for a very long time. And now is here and I’m thrilled with the excitement and possibilities. So, many changes with so many more to come. For the first time, I feel calm and centered in the middle of the storm.

“Sometimes the way back up is down.” – Jack Doneghy

I climbed down into the crevasse. I wallowed in the darkness and shined my light in the darkest corners. Every time I was terrified, I stepped forward. Every time I was challenged, I accepted the call. Every time I was lost and confused, I regrouped and kept moving sometimes forward, often backwards, and finally (on the best days) sideways.

I let go of my goals, my ambitions, and my desires. I let go of my pre-conceived notions of how things are suppose to work, look, and be.  I realized that I have no control except in how I choose to think, act, and feel moment to moment. I let go of being well-rounded and leaned into passion.

I have no idea what will happen. I have no inkling of my fate. I will do the only thing I can do. I will do the thing that is right in front of me that most needs to be done. I will relish in it and find joy in it and do whatever it is to the best of my ability. Then I’ll let it go.  I accept that the God / the Universe has a bigger dream for me then I can dream for myself. I turn my self over to the fate chosen for me.

I will make new friends, learn new skills, and have new experiences. I will work hard and learn much as I embark on the projects I’m charged to complete. Every thing will be reconfigured and anything not needed, not necessary, not vital will be let go. I will hold with love the things that add happiness and value and love and bless them.

“You have to love the hell that your in, before you can leave.” – Danielle LaPorte

So, I bless the crevasse. I thank the darkness. I give love to the fear. While I prefer that my teachers to be pretty and soft and smell like lavender, I realize and accept that sometimes the best lessons come from the teachers who lie and are corrupt. The ones who cheat, bully, and steal. I bless them both equally.

But the most important thing I do is I forgive myself. I forgive myself for being slow to learn. I forgive myself for being frightened and scared and uncertain. I forgive myself for not listening, not following, not always doing what I was tasked to do. But mostly, I forgive myself for actually ever believing that I was in control.

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Addiction

Posted by Denise on May 7, 2012 in Blog | 1 comment

I have an addiction. No, it’s not to drugs illegal or prescribed. No, I’m not drowning my sorrows in tequila shots. There’s no gambling problem, nor am I shop-a-holic. I don’t hoard, though with three dogs and a cat I might be toeing the line on that one. Even though I have a serious love affair with coconut covered doughnuts (Hostess all the way, baby), my weight falls in the normal range. I would like to be able to say I’m addicted to running and yoga and strength training, but my running times, tight hip flexors, and pitiful biceps beg to differ. My addiction is to Coke Zero.

I adore Coke Zero. Coca-Cola, ever the masterful marketers, ad campaign “Happiness” sums it up for me. Nothing makes me happier then a 20 ounce bottle of Coke Zero. If I can find one with the tiniest bit of ice shavings on top, it’s all the better. I actually know the specific coolers in various stores that yield this little godsend. One of my favorite sounds in the world, ranked just after my children’s laughter and my husband’s voice, is the sound of the lid being twisted off one of those 20 ounce beauties. I love the burning sensation you get when you take that first sip. Crushed ice covered with Coke Zero is just like no other in my world. I’ve actually driven miles out of my way to go to the restaurant that carries both.

I have quit the Zero on many occasions. I was Coke Zero free for four months in 2011 and for six months in 2010. But when push comes to shove, I give up. I say I’ll have just one, but within days I’m right back to my 32 ounce plus a day habit. Here’s the deal, drinking Coke Zero, relaxes me. It’s a break, a respite from the day, a touchstone. Everything else in my world may change, but Coke Zero is always the same. I drink it when I’m thirsty and bored and tired and stressed . Then there are the triggers, certain foods and situations where I just crave it.

So, let’s break it down.

First, my habit is an expense. At the least, I buy one 32 ounce cup from QuickTrip (my favorite dealer) a day. That runs me $373.80 per year. Add to that Coke Zero from restaurants, the occasional twelve pack, a few 20 ouncers every week and I’m easily looking at a $1,000.00 per year habit. Not chump change in my universe. I spend less money annually on my clothes. Then there’s the time involved in acquisition. I will get in my car and make a special trip to the store just to get one. This is easily twenty minutes of my time a day or 118 hours a year or 4.9 total days a year. Time I will never get back.

While the Coca-Cola Corporation might beg to differ and as a daughter of the South I feel like a bit of a traitor even uttering these words (after all, Coke is in our blood), there is a lot of evidence that diet soft drinks, especially ones with aspartame, aren’t good for you. My health conscious friends regularly forward articles telling me all the reasons why I need to stop. Just this week Karen sent me a chart discussing how aspartame alters your body chemistry to make it a good breeding ground for cancer (yikes!), and Linda pointed out that she’s had an easier time maintaining her weight since she stopped drinking diet beverages.

Finally, there is my son who has asks me to stop regularly. I can see the concern in his eyes and hear the irritation in his voice. This should be enough. He should be enough.

But I keep on drinking it. In spite of the cost, the mounting evidence that it’s not good for me, and the pleas of my child, I keep picking up the bottle and chugging it down. I tell myself that it’s no biggie. I make deals. I make excuses. After all you can’t really be addicted to Coke Zero, can you? Over the past several months, I’ve been turning this situation over in my mind. After much contemplation, the question I have to ask myself is this: “Why do I continue to do a thing that I clearly know is not good for me?”

Last night, I sat waiting for my daughter (the ongoing saga of my life). I finished off the large cup of water I had with me. It was late. I was tired. The book I was reading had lost my interest. Spotting a Kroger, I knew what was in the cooler at check out lane 6. A frosty 20 ouncer was calling my name. I wasn’t thirsty and I didn’t need the caffeine at such a late hour. I thought about the money I could spend more meaningfully. I thought about cancer. I thought about my son. Then, I went into the store and bought the Coke Zero. I unscrewed the cap and shuddered as the first swig burned my nose. According to Webster, this is addiction.

So, I quit. I’m done. It will not be easy. I will drink more water. I will break out the herbal teas I love. I will avoid trigger foods and situations. I will add an afternoon cup of coffee. The solution is simple.

The other thing I’m going to do is to keep asking myself the question, “Why do I continue to do a thing that I clearly know is not good for me?” This answer is the key.

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Atonement

Posted by Denise on May 1, 2012 in Blog | 1 comment

I was driving to school to pick up my daughter. She called as I sat in traffic, anxious for me to show up. I told her I’d be there in five minutes and we agreed to meet in back. To avoid the general melee that is the afternoon parking lot, I eased into a spot even though I expected her to be waiting. It was hot and the sun was at that angle where it’s impossible to find shade. As is typical for me, I pulled out my phone and began my gmail/fb/twitter shuffle. Five minutes passed, then ten, with no sign of my daughter. I called her phone to discover she was being voluntarily waylaid by the young man who currently holds her attention. She said she’d be right out.

I asked her if she was coming from the doors she normally uses or from the “other” side of the building. She said she’d be coming from the “other” side. I told her I’d drive that way to save her a few steps. Mostly, I just wanted to get the air conditioning running and cool myself off. I drove to the “other” side looking for her as I creeped through the parking lot.

Still not spotting her, my patience waned. Hot, tired, and thirsty, I wanted to go home. I had things to do. My irritation erupted. I had spent ten minutes driving to the school as a favor to her to pick her up, and she had the gall to leave me waiting for twenty minutes in a shadeless parking lot, in a hot car just so she could spend a few more minutes with a boy she’d already seen that day? How thoughtless. Angry, I called her back. “Where are you?,” I bellowed. “I’m by the “other” doors,” she responded, “Where are you?” “I’m by the “other” doors and you aren’t here,” I screeched.

Let’s just say that from here the conversation digressed. By the time she finally got in the van, I was livid. As we drove out of the parking lot, we each took turns loudly making our point. I quickly realized that what she was calling the “other” doors and what I was calling the “other” doors were two different sets of doors. I continued to yell as I vehemently proclaimed my rightness and her wrongness. I’m not raising a shrinking violent and true to form she loudly defended her position.

Then in the heat of that moment, I was able to get outside of myself for a split second and see just how absurd I looked. Two women, one very grown and one almost grown, who love each other very much, screeching over which set of doors were the “other” doors. She must have had the same flash of insight at the same moment because mid yell her voice started to crack, a smile begin to play across my lips, and our anger dissolved into laughter.

Sadly, I’m a yeller. It takes a lot to get me to raise my voice, but when that perfect storm of circumstance unleashes itself, I can be as intense as a tornado. This is not a point of pride. I do realize that there are situations where this level of intensity is useful, but those times and places are rare life occurrences. My yelling, especially when aimed at my children is just plain destructive.

This past fall, I went to my daughter and I confessed to her that the yelling was not good or appropriate and that she did not deserve to be treated that way. I apologized and asked for her forgiveness. I promised her that I would do everything I could to not raise my voice at her from this point forward. For the most part, I’ve done really well, but there have been moments, like this day, where my resolve waned and I found myself falling back on my old habit.

I took a deep breathe. I apologized. This time for breaking my promise not to yell at her. We both know I’m really, really working hard on this. We both know the relationship is so much better. We both know how much we love each other. She blessed me with her forgiveness and more time to work this out. She knows I’m intent on changing. She sees the improvement. I’m lucky to have her.

It’s extremely easy to say, “I’m sorry.” What’s difficult is acknowledging that our behavior has truly offended. To actually own the offense, sincerely expressing heart felt regret for being such a horses rear, and then doing whatever it takes to right the wrong and make the situation and the relationship better, is an humbling act.

Any apology without atonement is just a waste of breathe.

I’m not proud that I’ve yelled at my daughter. If I could go back and replace every second of raised voice she’s endured with the calm, loving mom she deserves, I would do it. I am proud that I have a young lady who stands her ground and won’t allow jerky yellers to steam roll over her. I hope she develops the intelligence to tell when she’s being duped by false apologies. I pray she possesses the intuition to recognize sincerity. Mostly, I feel blessed that she’s offered me a chance at redemption. She is important to me and I don’t want to mess up.

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Dog-Hair Dust Bunnies

Posted by Denise on Apr 23, 2012 in Blog | 3 comments

As the week of kid’s vacation ended and the husband jetted off to the other side of the world, I looked forward to getting back on my little daily plan. In my ongoing battle to have a modicum of work/life balance, I put together a really awesome running training plan (with help from experts of course), and I made a list of things I wanted to do daily that included items such as basic self care and creating a bit of time for a little thanksgiving and inspiration. I also plugged in a reasonable amount of time for work. If I follow my plan, I can take care of everything and still have time at the end of the day to relax.

Alas, it was not to be. The pressure in my ear that I was trying to ignore turned into a full blown infection. I was down for the count. After dropping the kids off at school on Wednesday, I crawled back into bed under three blankets and a comforter and shivered and sweated for the next two days fading in and out of consciousness. Each time I stumbled down the hall, dog-hair dust bunnies floating before me, seeking another bowl of raspberry jello parfait, I berated myself for not vacuuming. This was followed by a stern tongue lashing for not unloading the dishwasher or tidying up the kitchen.  As tasks undone floated through my head, I chided my lack of commitment and dedication and reamed myself for not taking the initiative to do them. I thought about my plan and beat myself up for not even attempting an item on it. Mind you, there was no doubt in my mind that I was sick.

So, I took myself to task and asked myself a simple question, “Why are you being so mean to yourself?” “Seriously, dude, (yes, I call myself dude) be nice.” I had no choice but to address the issue and continued to turn this question over and over in my fever-ridden mind. Why was I being so mean to me?

By Friday, I had enough focus to read. A lovely essay entitled “34 Things I’ve Learned About Life and Adventure” http://chrisguillebeau.com/3×5/34-things/ by one of my favorite writers, Chris Guilllebeau, landed in my inbox. Item number 5 hit me like a ton of bricks. Chris said:

“Balanced people don’t change the world. Passionate people who don’t have it all together change the world. If you’re worried about life-work balance, something is probably wrong with your life or your work. Instead of agonizing over balance, get excited and create change.”

And what I realized in my nighttime cold medicine and jello induced stupor, is that I’m not a balanced person. I don’t even like balance or symmetry. I love flying by the seat of my pants. I like figuring it out as I go. I prefer to jump into the dark, murky waters of the deep end of the pool even though I can’t swim. I know I’ll get to the side eventually. When I find that thing that lights my fire, my focus is laser and my passion ignites. I’ve seen it happen in my life before as I’ve thrown my weight behind a jobs I loved, causes I believed in, and motherhood.

I do need a bit of order (otherwise I can’t find my keys), and maybe I mistook my need for order as a mistaken desire for balance. They are two very separate things. I’m not sure where it all went wrong. I’m not sure when I started to see balance as the means to an end.  But what I don’t need is balance. The reality is that I love to immerse myself in the things I care deeply about. I like to dive in and be obsessed. Because when I’m at my best, is when I’m passionate. When I’m happiest, is when I’m immersed. I’ve never had it all together and I probably never will and that’s o.k.

This week I followed my heart. I dove into a project. I let it consume me. I forgot about everything else and just allowed it to take over my life. I worked hard and it was tough at times, but I relished the focus. I had huge breakthroughs and made great headway. And guess what? My life didn’t fall apart. During the in between times, when I needed a break, the “stuff” got done. Laundry was cycled, bills were paid, and quality time was spent with family and friends. I ran, I carted kids to and fro, and nobody starved to death.There was no balance, no time tables, and no deadlines. It was just me being committed to making headway on a problem I feel passionate about solving. It was me making the decision to not worry whether every single thing was crossed off the “list.”

This week, each time I walked down the hall, dog-hair dust bunnies floating before me, I smiled and felt blessed.

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And the Walls Keep Tumbling Down

Posted by Denise on Apr 16, 2012 in Blog | 5 comments

When I started on this journey to remember who I am and discover what I need to do, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I knew I would have to critically examine and deeply question every aspect of my life. I knew I would have to scrupulously determine what works in my life and what doesn’t. I knew I would have to doggedly make the changes necessary to get myself back to me. I have built so many walls over the years. Yet, as I dig and scrape away the mortar, as I loosen and remove each stone, as I slowly tear down each carefully constructed wall, I get a little be closer to me.

Sometimes, it’s easy. The mortar flakes away like dust and one carefully removed stone weakens the structure to the point that the entire wall collapses in one fell swoop. More often then not, each stone stays fast, and only through a lot of digging and prying and loosening on my part am I able to disassemble the wall, one stubborn stone at a time. It’s not easy work. There have been tears and remorse and deep sadness. From time to time, I just sit in the shade of the wall unable to move.

But I keep going. I keep going because of the sense of satisfaction and joy and pure relief I feel as each stone falls. No matter how tired or broken I am when that stone hits the ground, a smile plays over my lips. Sometimes there are more tears, but this time they are happy, well-earned tears. I dry my eyes. I look up. Another wall looms.

I’ve been dreading the wall before me today. It’s much taller than any I’ve faced to date. I’m sure it’s much thicker as well. My stomach tightens. Sheer terror overtakes me as the feelings of fear well up in my chest. I haven’t laid a finger on it and already they ache anticipating the work ahead. The next wall is forgiveness.

For years, I’ve read about forgiveness in countless books and articles. I’ve listened to many learned people discuss both it’s virtues and trials at length. Intellectually, I understand what it is and who it’s for and why I have to tackle it. Getting the lesson from my head to my heart will not be easy. As I’ve diligently destroyed other walls, this one has remained in my sites. I’ve been preparing for this wall. You know, girding my lions and what not. It doesn’t matter. I do not want to attack.

The fact that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will be successful, that I will dig, and scrape until each stone is gone, does not comfort me. I know that this wall will take everything I have. I know I will have to push myself beyond anything I’ve ever done before. I will have to look deep inside my broken heart and confront truths about others that I really don’t want to confront. But most of all I will have to confront truths about myself and that will be the most difficult.

Sadly, I don’t have a choice. I can’t go over this wall. There’s no way around it. I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.  I won’t choose to stay put. Staying put is not an option. At the beginning of this journey, I made a vow to myself. I vowed to find me. The wall to forgiveness is coming down.

“Forgiveness it not for them it is to free you. You deserve to be free.” – Tyler Perry

Tyler Perry shares his view of forgiveness. http://tylerperry.com/scrapbook/video/73/

Nothing But a Shell Game

Posted by Denise on Apr 14, 2012 in Blog | 4 comments

I’m not a big journal keeper, but over the years there have been times when I’ve taken a moment or two to jot some things down. I like the fancy spiral bound journals found in bookstores and have several lying around the house just in case a moment of inspiration strikes. One is covered in leopard print velveteen. On a lark, I started flipping through it. It was, in part, a gratitude journal. I also found a flower Mac gave me pressed between the pages and Andersen’s toddler scribbles. Sadly, there was a bit of bad poetry and some journaling. The journaling was long, lengthy, and heart felt.

As I read, I was struck by how closely my musing described how I currently feel. I looked at the dates: 1998, 1999, 2002: fourteen, thirteen, and ten years ago. In that moment, I felt the utter dismay of total and complete defeat. In all this time, I haven’t really changed. How can I work so hard only to remain in the same place for so long ago?

That’s when it hit me: I keep doing the same things over and over and over again expecting different results? Einstein defines this as insanity. And it is insane.

In my defense, I have made some changes in the past fourteen years. I’ve changed geographical locations three times and abodes five. I’ve switched careers, taken college classes, and volunteered. I eat healthier and work out more.  And even though my life is better, my life still isn’t significantly different. In 1998, I was searching for balance and striving to find that thing that would ignite my passion. In 1999, I talked about reducing the stuff in my life so I could focus on the experience of living. In 2002, I wanted to take better care of myself and my family. In 2012, I still want the exact same things.

If you asked, I’d say I’m all about big change. However, when push comes to shove, when do or die shows up, I am the absolute best at talking myself out of it. There’s always some excuse: the house, the kids, the dogs, the cats, the plants, the job, the money, etc. to prevent me from following the dream, living the passion, and just going for it. I can find one hundred and one things to do that get me no closer to the adventure I want my life to be.

And that’s when it hit me; I’m playing a shell game. I arrange and rearrange the external things hoping a different combination of circumstances will result in a different life. While these external changes make my life appear different, internally I’m still the same. What I know right now is this: if I want to be different, I have to think different. The changes I need to make are all internal.

This is not an option.

It would be too easy for me to make a visibly huge move. A move so big that not even I could doubt that it actually happened. But the big move is not going to be it for me. For me, my big move is going to be changing my mind one stinky, self-limiting thought at a time. The challenge for me is going to be to power through this thing as quickly as possible. Because the heartbreak for me would be to read this post fourteen years from now and realize that nothing in my life had really changed.

A Balancing Act

Posted by Denise on Apr 5, 2012 in Blog | 3 comments

A Facebook friend, posted that he was celebrating 10 years of running every single day without missing one day. This stunned me. How can a person do this? What about days he was sick or busy or just plain exhausted? What about the days he pulled long hours at work? What about when he travels or goes on a vacation? I’m honestly not sure how he manages the logistics of this feat, but I’m willing to trust (as he appears quite trustworthy) that he’s not pulling my leg.

So, in the face of this roller-coaster of a life that I have (just like everybody else), I ask myself: 1. How do I consistently persist at doing those things I’ve deemed a priority? 2. How do I find the time and space and energy to stick to it? and 3. Is it o.k. to cut myself some slack and to give myself a break from time to time?

Over the past few weeks, I’ve ruthlessly questioned what is most important to me in order to direct my focus. I’ve moved several time sensitive opportunities to the forefront, shelved things that can wait until later, and let go of projects that weren’t really the best use of my time or talent. In addition to a running schedule, I’ve made a list of things that I want to do daily; things that are important to my growth both personally and professionally. I’ve been realistic about the time necessary to complete the tasks and careful to not overextend myself. As long as my day goes as planned with no last minute emergencies or teenage drama, I can stick to my list and do what I’ve planned. The second life changes things up, the second things veer off course, it’s all but over.

This week, my teens were out of school and the husband home after weeks of traveling on business. My daughter and I shopped for a prom dress. I hosted a birthday dinner for my son. I painted my office and reconfigured the furnishing in several rooms in our house, cleaning as I went. Loads of no longer needed items were taken to Goodwill. A trip was planned, plans were laid, and problems were solved. It’s been a busy and productive week doing things that needed to be done and doing things that I really truly wanted to do. Needless to say, my carefully planned workout schedule fell to the wayside along with any work on any project.

Part of me believes that if I was serious, if I really meant it, if I was focused, I’d  be able to spend time on the things I’ve deemed most important every single day. Like my friend, I should be able to hit the pavement daily without fail. I know that I’m strong and focused and can push through pain and heartache and a horrible bout of walking pneumonia, because I’ve done each of these things in the past. I should be able to dedicate at least a few minutes to the handful of projects I hold in the highest esteem and grant myself a few minutes to do those things that keep me centered and healthy.

Part of me believes that I have to listen to my body, nurture my soul, and rest my mind. That I have to put people first and take advantage of last minute opportunities when they present themselves. That knowing when to quit, when to back off, is just as important as when to push forward. That the hours spent traversing the county in search of the perfect prom dress are as important as the hours spent researching an idea. That the hours spent with my husband talking through whatever needs to be talked through is just as important as my run. That the happiness on my son’s face as he is surrounded by people who love him loudly singing happy birthday is as important as the time spent typing on this keyboard.

I believe that for me this will always be somewhat of a precarious balancing act. I believe that as I continue to ruthlessly cut the physical clutter in my life and mental clutter in my mind, I will be able to par down even more and keep my focus on what is most important.  My husband says that I just have to keep trying different things until I figure out what works. I know he’s right. I can’t stop trying.

At the end of my life, I just want to be able to look back and say I loved hard, I lived full, and I did the things that I was put here  to do. I don’t want to look back at unfulfilled dreams and unloved people. I don’t want regrets.