I'm turning 44 next week. According to FB, I'm turning 103. I really need to get around to changing that. I'm probably skewing their stats somehow.
Last year (when it was readily apparent the previous year, in which I turned 42, turned out to be a huge clusterfuck of a year, and I could not think of more than one or two good things that happened) I decided to write down one good thing every single day so I could not say that about this past year.
I'm really glad I decided to do that. The challenges this year have been pervasive and sometimes disheartening. I've been ill several times, my back has gone out and now I find out it is actually really in bad shape, very big staffing challenges at work, struggling with loneliness, struggling to stay positive and hopeful and healthy.
I do have a tendency to look back on a year and see everything that DIDN'T happen. Didn't lose more weight, get in better shape, find a new job, meet a boyfriend, learn Spanish or get my Christmas cards out before Christmas.
So, what was in my Blessings Jar?
Spain. Spain was a very big happy thing.
Mostly it was little things. A surprise note from my sister in law, a phone call from my cousin, lunch with dear friends, someone bringing me Lumberyard mac n cheese when I was sick, a good book or a sweet Snapchat or text from a darling niece. Someone whose opinion matters to me saying he was proud of me. Sitting on a beach with a dear friend thinking about nothing at all. Small lucky things, like a bill being smaller than I thought it would be, or a car accident that just BARELY didn't happen. Beautiful things, those moments when you are real and the person you are with is real and it is scary and vulnerable and lovely all at once. God things -unexplanable events, love, forgiveness.
I was looking for 44 reasons today reminding me of happiness, and got 365. Not a bad practice at all.
.
Monday, December 23, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
Soft Spots
I have a soft spot for different kinds of people, but today I've been thinking a lot about my homeless peeps. It is really freakin cold out there.
I also have been filled with a lot of gratitude for the folks who, during the times I had no where to go, took me in.
The thing is, as I look back on my life (as this is my birthday month, I seem to be rather reflective) I can think of several times I did not have a place to live, and but for people who cared for me, I would have been homeless.
In high school when my mom would flake out, I knew I could show up on the doorsteps of my friends, and their parents would take me in, feed me, and make sure I got to school.
In college when a summer job fell through, I showed up at a friend's apartment with a duffle bag holding everything I owned (quite literally $5 to my name) and my sweet dog, Susie, and we all lived there rent-free for a few months. (Turned out, the place had been condemned so the LL couldn't collect rent for it, and rather than find a safer place, we rejoiced in saving money! Crazy kids.)
After law school, living with my dear aunt and uncle in Houston, and then with my friend Tracy and her then-husband, until I got a full time job and on my feet.
After the dreadful convent experience, moving back in with my dad until I could get my head on straight to hold down a job.
In each of these times if someone hadn't been moved to pity, saying, "This is your place until you get it together" my alternative would have been a homeless shelter.
Admittedly, it has been a long time since I have been jobless or without resources but I think those experiences are what grew all the soft spots in my heart. I think people know that, so I meet lots of folks who need stuff -sometimes socks, sometimes just a kind smile. And I CAN give that to them.
I'm very comfortable in my life today... my little house is warm and I can buy gifts for my nieces and treat friends to dinner and buy any clothes I need or want at the moment the whim strikes. I went to freakin SPAIN this year! I look around in wonderment sometimes, puzzling how I got to this lovely place when there were so many chances along the way to fall down and stay down.
But LOVE lifts us all up, right? It's LOVE that makes us all hug our friends and family tight and make room for them. It's LOVE that puts the coins in the red kettle, or dishes out the turkey on Thanksgiving, or slips a grungy looking guy a five. It's LOVE that says, "I will stand with you when you are hopeless and in despair and heading in the wrong direction." LOVE says, "I will keep pointing toward the light."
That kind of Love lets the whole world know we aren't alone.
I also have been filled with a lot of gratitude for the folks who, during the times I had no where to go, took me in.
The thing is, as I look back on my life (as this is my birthday month, I seem to be rather reflective) I can think of several times I did not have a place to live, and but for people who cared for me, I would have been homeless.
In high school when my mom would flake out, I knew I could show up on the doorsteps of my friends, and their parents would take me in, feed me, and make sure I got to school.
In college when a summer job fell through, I showed up at a friend's apartment with a duffle bag holding everything I owned (quite literally $5 to my name) and my sweet dog, Susie, and we all lived there rent-free for a few months. (Turned out, the place had been condemned so the LL couldn't collect rent for it, and rather than find a safer place, we rejoiced in saving money! Crazy kids.)
After law school, living with my dear aunt and uncle in Houston, and then with my friend Tracy and her then-husband, until I got a full time job and on my feet.
After the dreadful convent experience, moving back in with my dad until I could get my head on straight to hold down a job.
In each of these times if someone hadn't been moved to pity, saying, "This is your place until you get it together" my alternative would have been a homeless shelter.
Admittedly, it has been a long time since I have been jobless or without resources but I think those experiences are what grew all the soft spots in my heart. I think people know that, so I meet lots of folks who need stuff -sometimes socks, sometimes just a kind smile. And I CAN give that to them.
I'm very comfortable in my life today... my little house is warm and I can buy gifts for my nieces and treat friends to dinner and buy any clothes I need or want at the moment the whim strikes. I went to freakin SPAIN this year! I look around in wonderment sometimes, puzzling how I got to this lovely place when there were so many chances along the way to fall down and stay down.
But LOVE lifts us all up, right? It's LOVE that makes us all hug our friends and family tight and make room for them. It's LOVE that puts the coins in the red kettle, or dishes out the turkey on Thanksgiving, or slips a grungy looking guy a five. It's LOVE that says, "I will stand with you when you are hopeless and in despair and heading in the wrong direction." LOVE says, "I will keep pointing toward the light."
That kind of Love lets the whole world know we aren't alone.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Confessions of a Sedentary Fall
2013 was not a year to go down in the books as The Best Year Ever. However, it did not completely suck, as I was careful to write down all the non-sucky things to remind myself my life is actually pretty damn good.
My assistant, Katrina, and I were chatting today about my back. She is studying to be a physician's assistant, and her husband is a physical therapist, so she has a rabid interest in these things.
One of the very hardest things for me to do as I try to live a reasonably healthy life is the integration of physical activity since my back has been making a lot of noise. I actually love to exercise, but over the years I have learned to keep going, even when it hurts. It's just pain, you know?
My physical therapist about had a stroke when I mentioned I had gone running over the holiday. I've been told by several health professionals that maybe someday I will be able to run again, but now is not that time. While I was running, it was awesome... the next day I was hobbling along. He said, "I am really happy your back felt good enough to go running, but please don't do that again until we get it healed."
Then yesterday I had an AWESOME workout with my trainer... yeah, my back started to hurt a bit during the lunges, but it wasn't bad... and then later I stood stooped for an hour helping actresses with their hair... today, I am hobbling and feeling rather teary.
Katrina gave me the LOOK, the one she usually reserves for me waving goodbye to a deadline, "You're not going to get better if you keep that up!"
"I know, I know!" I said. "But it is so hard to know when to stop and I have been such a SLUG since August... I hardly work out at all, and PT isn't really calorie burning -it is all these small movements and I have to stop so fast and I'm getting FAT again and my jeans are tight and I'm freaking out!"
"THAT doesn't matter!" she waved her hands. "Your back matters! You won't be able to exercise at all if you aren't mobile! Priorities! Your back is your priority! If you gain weight you will lose it when your back is better! How hard do you think it will be to lose weight if you are stuck in bed because your back is out??"
Then I got the stern I-love-you-but-I-will-smack-you look as she waited for my promise to love my back enough to be aware when it is done with an activity. She didn't wait long. She scares me a little.
So, "patience," "compassion" and "awareness" are the words of the month.
My assistant, Katrina, and I were chatting today about my back. She is studying to be a physician's assistant, and her husband is a physical therapist, so she has a rabid interest in these things.
One of the very hardest things for me to do as I try to live a reasonably healthy life is the integration of physical activity since my back has been making a lot of noise. I actually love to exercise, but over the years I have learned to keep going, even when it hurts. It's just pain, you know?
My physical therapist about had a stroke when I mentioned I had gone running over the holiday. I've been told by several health professionals that maybe someday I will be able to run again, but now is not that time. While I was running, it was awesome... the next day I was hobbling along. He said, "I am really happy your back felt good enough to go running, but please don't do that again until we get it healed."
Then yesterday I had an AWESOME workout with my trainer... yeah, my back started to hurt a bit during the lunges, but it wasn't bad... and then later I stood stooped for an hour helping actresses with their hair... today, I am hobbling and feeling rather teary.
Katrina gave me the LOOK, the one she usually reserves for me waving goodbye to a deadline, "You're not going to get better if you keep that up!"
"I know, I know!" I said. "But it is so hard to know when to stop and I have been such a SLUG since August... I hardly work out at all, and PT isn't really calorie burning -it is all these small movements and I have to stop so fast and I'm getting FAT again and my jeans are tight and I'm freaking out!"
"THAT doesn't matter!" she waved her hands. "Your back matters! You won't be able to exercise at all if you aren't mobile! Priorities! Your back is your priority! If you gain weight you will lose it when your back is better! How hard do you think it will be to lose weight if you are stuck in bed because your back is out??"
Then I got the stern I-love-you-but-I-will-smack-you look as she waited for my promise to love my back enough to be aware when it is done with an activity. She didn't wait long. She scares me a little.
So, "patience," "compassion" and "awareness" are the words of the month.
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