Straight talk about the small stuff: don’t sweat it

I possess little patience for complainers although, admittedly, complaints come far too easy for me. Yet, if you say it’s too hot—and you live in Minnesota where winters last forever or you live in Arizona where, you know, it’s a desert—I will likely show little to no sympathy. #SorryNotSorry. This has become larger than life over the past couple of weeks as I watched a dear and beautiful friend of nearly two decades lose her fight against cancer. As I embraced a husband who prepared to say goodbye to his bride of 22 years. While I hugged a daughter about to lose her mother and a best friend about to lose her confidante. Several years ago, I, myself, walked through the shadow of the valley of death—the days and months following my husband’s near-fatal car accident. But, once life resumed an air of normality, it was easy to forget how unimportant the little things are. Let’s try not to.

Do you sweat the small stuff?

Photo source: http://www.peacetothepeople.com.

PSA: If you think it can’t happen to you, think again

14 years ago, my daughter and I waited for her dad to return home from work and join us on a bike ride. Instead, a police officer rang our doorbell to inform us that my husband’s vehicle had been T-boned by a drunk driver. Paramedics completed fatality paperwork on scene—just in case. Emergency personnel used the Jaws of Life to extricate him from the wreckage. And he flew in a helicopter to a Level 1 trauma hospital where the head of OR performed surgery. My husband sustained a ruptured spleen, cracked ribs, a displaced clavicle, crushed hip, collapsed lung, lacerations, contusions and a diffuse TBI. He spent 59 days in the hospital—which included a medicated coma for 17 days and five weeks of inpatient therapy to relearn how to feed himself and to write and walk—followed by two months of outpatient therapy. Six months post-accident, he returned to work full time. But our lives were forever changed. Make the right choice: Don’t drink and drive.

Photo courtesy of Chandler Police Department.

Love without condition: begin with yourself

Today I asked my body what she needed,
Which is a big deal
Considering my journey of
Not really asking that much.

I thought she might need more water.
Or protein.
Or greens.
Or yoga.
Or supplements.
Or movement.

But as I stood in the shower
Reflecting on her stretch marks,
Her roundness where I would like flatness,
Her softness where I would like firmness,
All those conditioned wishes
That form a bundle of
Never-Quite-Right-Ness,
She whispered very gently:

Could you just love me like this?
~ Hollie Holden

I read this poem while scrolling through Facebook and tears welled quickly. For more than a half century, I’ve wrestled with the “bundle of never-quite-right-ness.” When I first joined ‘Club 50,’ I learned how to be comfortable in my own skin, as long as I practiced mindfulness. But what if I could love myself without condition? After all, if I love others this way, then I owe myself the same consideration. And grace.

What do you ask of yourself?

Image courtesy of Ambro at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

We all reside here: hanging in the balance

Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. What shall we do with this gift? For some, #thestruggleisreal and their days hang in the balance as they fight for their next breath. While others grieve, strive, win some, lose some, laugh on the outside, cry on the inside. Continue to repeat the same mistakes. Yet, when we break it down, we all reside in a similar place: each of us shares the same 24 hours. And our days are numbered. What if we acted like it? Was that argument I had with my daughter yesterday afternoon worth it? Would she remember the last words I spoke, albeit in anger: “Drive safe”—or, rather, would she remember the sound of the phone line going dead with no goodbye? It’s so easy to forget that our words, our actions, oftentimes leave lifelong imprints on others’ hearts. When we can be anything at all, let’s use our gift to be kind.

How will you use your gift today?

Photo source: http://www.lawyersweekly.com.au.