What They Don't Tell You

It's always in the fine print. The little tiny words that no one ever reads. The stuff that pops up just before you click, "I agree to these terms." What terms? Do YOU ever read the fine print? I don't. I mean to. I always tell myself, "Next time I make a purchase, I'll read the terms in advance." But I don't. 

So I'm caught unprepared. I'll admit, I like surprises, true surprises. Something unexpected that touches me. I love the feeling of delight a surprise can deliver. 

I received the most lovely gift this year on Christmas Eve. The gift itself wasn't a surprise, but still, I was caught unprepared. Had I known the depth to which this surprise would touch me, I don't know if I would have (or COULD have) agreed to the terms. Because this wasn't just a surprise--this was a change-your-life-forever-after gift. And how can you prepare for that? Even if someone TELLS you that things will never be the same, can you really comprehend those terms until you are LIVING with them? This was a I-don't-know-how-to-think-how-to-act-how-to-help-with-this surprise. I am unprepared. I should have advice to give, I should have time to give, I should have money to give, I should be better at this. I am unprepared. 

But I do have gratitude and love to give. As the recipient of such a precious, precious gift, I hope to give back as much as this gift has given me. More. I may not have read the terms of this gift in advance, but I hope to show how grateful I am with each action and word. 

I know there will be many more surprises. I won't remember to read the fine print, and I'll feel unprepared. But I'll be grateful and enjoy the unexpected treasures yet to come.

And with the dawn...

It's a bright, sunny day. Cold, but sunny. I am not usually a fan of this kind of day. For some reason, bright sun brings on headaches for me. But not today.

There is just a hint of spring in the cold, cold air. The sounds of birds singing again, the daffodil buds barely peeking through the dirt, the squirrels playing their games of tag again in the yard. Just enough spring to lift my heart.

I spent the weekend sobbing, singing the "Poor me, poor me" song. But I'm over it. I still don't think I'm strong enough to visit my favorite eastside haunts yet--I know I'll get weepy without my constant companion. But today's dawn brings a hopeful promise of good things to come, and I'm gonna go with it. I have so much. I am so lucky. And grateful.

Marching On

Forgive the title pun--yes, it's already March, and I've been absent for awhile. 
Life has offered a variety of positive and negative experiences in the past 2 months, and I'm grateful for all of them. No matter how much I whine, I know I'm still one lucky chick. I still get to wake up every day. I still get to laugh and cry every day. I still get to feel overwhelmed and satisfied. I am still here. I am lucky.

Thanks for the thoughts, hugs, messages, smiles you've sent my way. I'm lucky to know you. I am marching forward, held up by supportive friends, loving family, and the knowledge that I am one lucky chick.  

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

'Tis the season. The season of waiting. The season of anticipation. Every day feels like an intake of breath. 
When does the release happen? Is it when the shopping is done? When the gifts are wrapped and tree decorated? When family gathers to celebrate? Or does it happen the day after, vacuuming the wrapping paper shreds, washing the dirtied dishes, putting the furniture back in place? 
I am a person who feels the post-holiday crash pretty deeply. In the evenings between Christmas day and New Year's Eve, I lean toward wallowing in sappy movies, sappy music, sitting in darkness lit only by tree lights. I take my year apart mentally, analyzing every misstep, listing the changes I will make to move forward. It's not so much a release as a letdown. It's as if there's nothing to look forward to, only things to regret. And that's bullshit. 
I'm learning (ssss--lll--ooo--www--lll--yyy) to keep myself in anticipation. Because there's ALWAYS something coming. I don't mean in the "Oh-I've-got-a-thousand-things-to-get-done!" way. I mean in the "What's-around-this-corner?" way. I'm learning to look forward with curiosity, with eagerness, with openness, instead of with dread, with anxiety, with a feeling of impending doom. 
I am not good with change. I worry. I fret. I dread. I know I won't completely be free of those weights, but I'm determined to look ahead with excitement. I am not patient, but I'm determined to find the joy in the waiting. 
I will inhale and open my eyes.

 


Clip art: http://www.stpaulschestnuthill.org/wp-content/uploads/Advent-Wreath-011.jpg

'Tis the Season

nostalgia       
scents
laughter
warmth
flavors
hugs
blankets
tears
contentment
love

always, love
 

GREAT

Great. I missed a second post in September. Great. I missed an early post in October. Great.
While I'm working hard to retrain myself, to foster and maintain better habits, I still mess things up regularly. I am definitely a work in progress.

In late September, I was assigned the task of listing things I am GREAT at. *Brief interjection: If you are bothered by dangling participles and poor grammar, read no further. This post is rife with both. You have been warned.* Have you ever tried to do this? It's humbling, and kinda depressing. Because it was very easy to list things I am GOOD at. I am self-aware enough and confident enough to say, "Yes, I'm a good cook," or "Yes, I'm a Trivial Pursuit player." 

So I took it to the next level. Things I am BETTER-THAN-AVERAGE at. Hmmm. Okay, I play piano better than the average person. I have better-than-average classroom management skills. I am blushing as I write this next one, but...I think I'm better-than-the-average mom. I can only say that because my girls are grown women who haven't become serial killers or Republicans (yet). 

Now on to the GREAT list. *pause* Ok.*crickets chirping* Yeah. This is tough. On the surface, it seems easy. I'm a great friend. I'm a great daughter. But, no, those statements aren't true. I think (ok, I KNOW) I'm a good friend. A really good friend. But GREAT? No. Because I still won't go see every show that my friends are in. Because I still won't call friends on a regular basis, just to chat.  A great daughter? Nnnnnnoooooooo. I call my dad frequently, but many times it's due to guilt, not due to an overwhelming desire to talk to him. I still complain almost daily about having to put up with his racist rants, but I don't have the guts to confront him about them. I still harbor loads of resentment and anger toward him for events that occurred DECADES ago. Do I love him? Yes, without question. Am I a GREAT daughter? Not a chance.

My list of GREATNESS comes from a negative place. I am a GREAT complainer. I am a GREAT passive/aggressive manipulator. I am a GREAT nag. See what I mean? The reason I was asked to create my list of greatness was to bolster my often-flagging self esteem. Oops. Sort of backfired on me. But, you know what? That's okay. I appreciate the fact that I made these discoveries. Or rather, that this task caused me to FACE these characteristics. Of course I've always known they were there. But looking this closely at my NON-greatness will help me grow, too. So, maybe that's my starting point. I'm GREAT at listing my flaws. And I'm GREAT-ful (see what I did there?) for the task of looking deeper.

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhs8Q33QXx9c09FCYQEJoLW3C-VTVv5TuxmHuAcZBxcgJjUSTIq2Y0jG6VsMtV957w8JBBwuzcMVATZGRgJmypyG40BOH5vMlOsaEwkqx-tBVPjT4iyXiRCIjQhU_zJuKAfwPAc6U-4gg/s1600/totally-great.jpg

I Know What I Did Last Summer

This breeze is so refreshing. It's the first fall-like day. That always gives me a boost. I'm a fall fan. I'm a cool-to-cold weather fan. I'm a windows open, put on a sweatshirt fan. Today's a good day.

The end of this summer was not filled with good days. I went through what I call a breakdown, but what my new therapist prefers to call a road bump. Tomato, tomahto--it was not fun. Now, I had no disasters, no terrible disease, no deaths of loved ones. Nothing that others would consider "a good reason" for my sudden inability to deal with daily life. Part of the learning curve of this experience is realizing that it's okay to feel as if my world is ending and to stop worrying that others think I'm just weak. My feelings have validity, and that makes them important.

Whew, that's a tough thing for me to say. I'm grateful that today I can say it. My feelings are valid, and they are important. It doesn't matter if they aren't important to others--they're important to me, at this moment in my life. I can work with that. I can look forward from that. Today is a good day.