Brave enough: finding strength to admit our brokenness

 

From the start, my purpose for writing “A nasty word called addiction…” centered on a message of hope and redemption, as well as a way to mark a milestone in my own journey of healing. It’s no secret that many of us suffer in silence from a laundry list of afflictions. Yet, the older I get, the more I feel a kinship with those who hide behind the fake smiles, the false bravado. Because I, too, share the DNA of brokenness. Yet, as I navigate—aka stumble, skip or sidle (depending on the day)—this season of Club 50, I often entertain second thoughts about broaching various “taboo” topics in conversation or my writing. However, if we’re unwilling to allow ourselves the discomfort of vulnerability, then we miss an opportunity to engage in deeper connection with humanity, and ourselves. Transparency, I believe, serves as a catalyst to healing and a collective oneness. And affords us strength when we’re brave enough to admit our brokenness.

Are you brave enough?

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

I quit.

One day, you wake up and just know it’s time to say, “I quit.” I quit the negative self-talk. I quit complaining. I quit obsessing (see “A time for everything…”). I quit whatever no longer serves me—the toxic behaviors that harm vs. heal, the co-dependent relationships that eclipse vs. edify, saying “yes” when I mean “no.” I quit making excuses and, instead, take ownership of my decisions, my goals, my commitments, my successes—and my failures. I quit piling on the unrealistic expectations, and replace them with my victories, big and small. I quit dreaming new dreams without attaching wings: the tangible steps I must take to create the reality my heart envisions. One day, you wake up and just know it’s time to say, “I begin.” And embrace every thrill ride, every bump, bruise and disappointment because it means you’re alive and present in this moment. That you’re breathing and you were created for a purpose.

What do you need to quit in order to begin?

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

A time for everything: the key is in the knowing when

I can obsess over life’s minutiae with the best of them. Pounce on an idea or thought, roll it around, pound it out, stretch it and kneed it, worry it and ruminate on it—until I become paralyzed—hashing and rehashing, attempting to establish if or when I took a wrong turn, misjudged or misunderstood. Oftentimes, I seek freedom from my thoughts through journaling, a safe place where I scrawl my uncensored soul across the pages of my college-ruled notebook. Mostly, though, I pray. Absolved of conventions about where or when or how, I unearth solace on the mountain trails. Just me and God and nature’s playground. It’s here where I often find the answers—and healing—I seek. I’ve mentioned it before, how there’s a time for everything according to the Good Book: A time to keep and a time to throw away… a time to be silent and a time to speak. The key is in the knowing when.

Do you struggle with the knowing when?

All the things we carry: how to lighten our load

The Things They Carried, a collection of short stories written by Tim O’Brien (1990), describes the physical and emotional things American soldiers carried while serving on the ground in Vietnam. Years ago, I studied the compilation while enrolled in an undergraduate creative writing course. Today, I think about all the things we carry throughout our lives. The intangibles that are out of sight, yet weigh us down in mind: the heavy burdens of emotional baggage, the ugly scars from our pasts. Yet I wonder if there’s a way to purge—to abandon and/or forget—the things that impede in order to make room for the things we choose to carry instead: an attitude of gratitude, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And always forgiveness. All the things that help lighten our load along the way. Or perhaps the most important thing is to help carry each other’s afflictions in order to share the load.

What things do you carry that should be left behind?

Image source: http://rickhudgens.blogspot.com.

 

Empowered vs. embarrassed: becoming your biggest advocate (encouragement for women)

In my post, Resigning ourselves to embrace each season, I share my new normal: menopause. Since then, I’ve consulted with myriad health professionals, researched countless treatments and, in reality, become my biggest (health) advocate. PSA: I urge everyone to assume this role, whenever possible. But, because I cope with a few uncommon medical issues; e.g., a blood clotting disorder and congenital heart defect, I’ve learned that several potential solutions prove riskier to manage hormonal imbalances. This simply means heightened due diligence on my part. And, because no medical expert is perfect, nor every woman created equal, a trial and error mentality is key. Throughout the process, I’ve also discovered my voice—not only by asking questions, but by being transparent with others. Rather than suffer embarrassment, I feel more empowered than ever. Stay tuned for upcoming posts that include tips for managing this new season, from common symptoms and natural remedies for relief, to encouragement that we’re not alone.

How do you manage the new seasons in life?

Image source: https://transforminglifenow.wordpress.com/.

Hop aboard: hanging on for the ‘thrill ride’ of your life

Thrill ride. My new favorite phrase coined by my great niece, Julia. That’s life in all its glory, right? A journey that sometimes feels like a roller coaster I close my eyes on until it reaches steadier (and safer) ground. Other times its scary twists and turns require faith that I’ll make it from Point A to Point B—my body often jostled and bruised from the onslaught of life’s challenges. But then there are those frissons of joy that bubble up from within as I share the ride—all its ups and downs and unexpected surprises that delight—with those closest by my side. And, if I had a choice, I don’t think I’d pick a different ride or trade my seat for another. I’m simply hanging on since it won’t last forever. Because, one day, the ride will slow and inevitably come to a stop, and it’s at this moment I want to shout: “Wow! What a [thrill] ride!”

What does your thrill ride look like?

Image courtesy of Rawich at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

How to make a happy life: think differently

You do not find the happy life. You make it.
~ Camilla Kimball

During a recent yoga class, the instructor weaved her special blend of wisdom throughout the 90-minute lesson. One particular “ism” continued to resonate with me long after I’d packed my bag and headed home. Although not verbatim, it reads something like this: Happiness is not the destination; it’s an attitude you choose to bring with you on the journey. What I love about this can also be understood from Kimball’s quote at the beginning of this post. Another popular saying speaks of happiness as the journey, itself. Yet what about journeys fraught with illness or death, poverty or disaster or [fill in the blank]? Oftentimes those people swimming in a bevy of unfortunate circumstances still seem to radiate happiness. Because happiness is not a treasure to be found but, rather, a gift we already possess as a choice. And it’s all about choosing to think differently. I choose happy.

What choice do you make today?

Image courtesy of VectorHuman at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

PSA: From victims to victors

Five thousand, four hundred seventy-eight days—or 15 years ago—a driver, impaired with nearly three times the legal alcohol blood concentration in Arizona, runs no less than two red lights before slamming his white Dodge Ram into the driver’s side of my husband’s two-month-old black Honda Civic. Each August, on this day, I relive those memories, snapshots strung together that recount our story: Police ring my doorbell to deliver the news. My 12-year-old daughter and I arrive at the Level 1 trauma hospital where my husband undergoes emergency surgery and spends the next 59 days reclaiming his life. Over time, our family learns to navigate a new normal amidst the deficits resulting from a diffuse TBI, crushed hip and other myriad physical, emotional and mental trauma. Heartaches and highlights serve as milestones that color our collective journey from victims to victors. And it’s on the anniversary of my husband’s “death” and “re-birthday,” that I once again implore readers to make the right choice: don’t drink and drive.

Jokers to the left of me, clowns to the right of me: reality’s call

Since I attended a writers’ retreat last month—see “The power of networking…”—a mirror image of me moves throughout each day disconnected from reality. The crux of the matter is that my mind and heart still reside in the space I created 1,527 miles away. Yet my body continues to travel on autopilot through the motions of everyday life. Like the old song lyrics go: I’m stuck in the middle… Because if I evaluate my circumstances from the outside in, I observe a 50+ woman striving to serve as a productive member of society, love her family and friends, care for her health and make a difference in her small corner of the world. But the reality is that—even so—from the inside out, I’m stuck on pause as I contemplate my next move and attempt to answer reality’s call: Is this as good as it gets? It’s in this crossroads, I’m certain, where it’ll all begin to make sense.

Are you stuck in the crossroads?

Image courtesy of tiverylucky at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

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.