Veiled

I have been in a state of mourning too long. Someone dear to me passed away 8 years ago. My heart broke, but not only for the loss, I was devastated to not have a memorial to attend. Her family held no funeral service or wake. It was as if she never existed.

At the most inexplicable times, I would catch a glimpse of her smile. I could feel her presence when my second daughter was born, when I crossed a 5K finish line, when I threw a party. She was there, but only in the background - a fuzzy feeling in my head and an ache in my heart.

Her death felt like a storm inside me - rumbling, crashing and dangerous. I never had the closure of a goodbye or the peace knowing she was resting in comfort, so the storm continue to swirl. The resentment boiled up into anger inside of me. No one cared to acknowledge the loss, talk about her, or attempted to understand my pain. How could they go on as if nothing changed?

I took my hurt and crawled into a cave for which no one else had the address. While I have incredible support and companionship in my life, I have been immersed in such a sadness that a shell of pity surrounded me like the cloud of dirt and smell around Pigpen in the Charlie Brown cartoons. The pain became a barrier between me and everyone else.

There was a bridge not one person could cross. I was saving it for her.

It was a revelation when one day I woke up and a veil was lifted. My girls were playing down the hall in their rooms, while my husband's smooth sleepy breathing was a perfect, even tempo. It was extraordinarily ordinary. The same old thing felt new. I smiled and felt her rise up within me. While she changed at the scene of the crash all those years ago, maybe she didn't die. Maybe people weren't grieving her, because she was there...just different on the inside. Maybe she was lost.

I climbed out of bed with purpose. Everything would change now. I remember her - carefree, fun, and full of wit and joy. She had a spark and a great thirst for life. It's time to help her quench that thirst.

“being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;” Phil 1:6

God did not start in me what He did not intend for me to finish. It may have taken me way too long to feel His arms around me, carrying me, but I am grateful He didn't give up. Now, as I learned to walk as a toddler, I will learn to walk out of the dark cave, practicing my balance, building my strength, and loving myself despite my many broken pieces. I will find confidence in my scars and power from my trauma.

Intentional

"It's time to get up!" my father said as he rapped on my door.

"I don't feel good," I replied, groggily.

"Are you sick, or do you need to take a shower, clean your room, and start your day?" he questioned me.

I knew better than to question his thinking and pulled the covers from my body, knowing I would not be allowed to stay in my warm bed a second longer.

While I am not sure my dad asked that question of me more than once, I never forgot that Sunday morning call to action (and to church). It stuck with me, because I did feel different once my body and my environment were cleaned up. It wasn't illness keeping me in my bed. It was whatever "I don't wanna" excuse or problem I was facing in my poor teenager heart.

I still play this mind trick on myself when I can't stand the thought of going to work, knowing I have a meeting I don't want to attend, or a deliverable I'm not excited to tackle. Of course, there are times I take the shower and still crawl back to bed, truly ill or in need of some mental health comfort. More times than not, though, I just need a kick in the pants and a clearing of the cobwebs blocking my vision of a wonderfully purposeful and productive day of living.

Often when confronted with something overwhelming, I begin by organizing the space around me. It makes me feel as though my mind will then have the space to work through the problem or find the words to set out on the page. I know for sure I also do everything best when I feel physically ready for the task. For me, that means showered, made up, hair styled, jewelry on. I know the clothes don't actually change anything - nor does a straightened and tidy desk - but these actions allow for the mindset of a well intentioned person. I am in a space ready for success.

As I set out on a journey of self love and encouragement, I had to start somewhere - clear the mess and get my head in the game. I decided on the approach of a "To Do List". With each new day comes opportunities to choose joy, so I needed to set myself up on a path to my success. What brings me joy? When and what makes me happy? To find these answers and bring joy to the forefront of my life, I must work at it. So, how was I going to craft this list? It couldn't be too long or daunting as to appear impossible to work through on a daily basis. It also couldn't be too short or simple. (Remember, Grace, you have to push yourself to grow.) And each item must push me towards my intention of finding and living in joy.

I found it to be a skinny rope to walk when developing a self improvement plan, but when I get to the other side, I know the feeling I'll have in my heart and gut and how the victory will show on my face. Each day I will train for the balancing act of setting priorities important to me, working towards my goals, and giving myself grace when I may fall off the wire. After all, I can't make it to the center ring, on the highest tightrope, in the most beautiful leotard, evoking awe and amazement from all around me without first figuring out how to get across a balance beam just one foot off the ground. We all begin somewhere.

Grace's Everyday To Do List

1. Praise

Each morning, even before I get up to pee (come on, we all do that first), I will give praise to God. I will reach into my heart for what has me feeling thankful and set my heart to find the good in the day. By first setting my mind on what is right and good, I will choose to begin each day from a place of love. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of life. Thank you for giving me another day to make you proud and to find new strength. Thank you for my husband and children - my cocoon of safety and peace and purpose. Thank you for...the list is endless and varied and often more personal. But everyday will start with a note of appreciation to God for giving me another chance to live my best life.


2. Eat

I can certainly find it in me to feed my body what it needs to be healthy from the inside out, at least one meal a day. To not feel set up for failure, I am starting small and building nutrition into my life as a routine and creating a habit of good choices. I start with a healthy meal, and you know what happens, I choose a second healthy meal and a smart snack. Less sugar finds its way to my lips and more water works its way into my system. I am creating a domino effect of healthy choices. It all starts with one meal. If I go off track after that, it's okay, because tomorrow I will start with one healthy meal again. More and more, I choose to feed my body what it needs, and I am both proud and happy.

3. Move

No matter the activity - a weightlifting program, a jog, a core workout, dancing until my feet fall off, stretching, hiking, walking - I will move my body with intention to pump the blood through my veins, raise my heart rate, and breathe hard. Humans were made to move. By building momentum, muscles, and lung capacity, I will feel better able to handle the hard stuff my body throws at me. When I must rest, I can do so knowing I WILL be capable of moving again. I must treasure the good days. This will serve as proof that I have a body able to carry me through the pain. This knowledge will make me glow with not only sweat, but strength and courage and an "I got this" attitude.


4. Plan


While we may make plans and God laughs, I also rejoice. Someone recently asked me what vacation was my favorite. My answer, whichever one I am planning next. I love envisioning the joy on my children's faces, thinking about what I will wear on a date with my husband, the kind of food I will eat. The planning process, for me, is one of the best (if not the best) parts of life. I dive head first into a pool of ideas, possibilities, and details to sort. Whether I am planning a trip, party, or the schedule for fall activities for my family, I am happy. By giving myself time each day to create a little sense of control in a chaotic world, I find peace. By allowing myself a few minutes each day to anticipate what lay ahead, I am better able to channel my nervousness and worry into excitement and joy. That is my sweet spot.


5. Write


I will get it out of my head and onto paper - whether typing or writing by hand. This is therapy, creativity, and art for me. Sometimes I will write a blog for public consumption, but there will be days I will write a love letter to my husband, a note of encouragement to my daughter, or journal about my faith. I got out of the practice of writing, and spent far too much time thinking, rather than reflecting. When I put my thoughts and feelings out into the world, I am better able to process whatever it is I am going through. It makes the internal struggle external - something tangible and less scary. The exercise of writing strengthens the muscles that aren't visible, but are what push me to keep going when my body gives up. By being vulnerable and honest, I am becoming more open to help, love, acceptance and connection. I crave all of these things - from myself and others. Writing satisfies that craving.


6. Listen


I cannot grow in a vacuum of my own thoughts and ideas. Each day, I will find positive messages to pump into my head, read books and essays, talk to those with different belief systems or faiths. By expanding my horizons and opening my mind to different approaches to similar human problems, I will build up my arsenal to fight my demons. This will create a more well rounded approach to life while also improving my ability to connect with others, understand different points of view, and create a richer, more purposeful life.


These six things are possible each day, right? I know I won't always hit every mark or devote large amounts of time to each one, but by feeding my heart, mind, body and soul with positivity, I am slowly but surely finding my way back. By being intentional with my thoughts and actions, I am choosing joy over the other stuff. Joy becomes my purpose, and I become joyful. At least, that's the plan...

Forgiveness

Eight years ago, I was hit while running a simple errand in my SUV by a drunk driver. In the years since then I have seen every type of doctor and healer you can imagine (or close to it), had surgery, PT, procedures, consulted chiropractic and acupuncture, prayed, gone to therapy, cried. I have done the work time and time again to fight the physical and mental anguish caused by a crash that totaled my car and part of me. Yet, the work is never really done.

I have forgiven the driver in open court once and in my heart and mind a million times. Somewhere along the way, I started blaming myself for not healing properly or gaining the strength back to fight the reminders of that day.

Every six months to a year, I become nearly paralyzed with physical pain from nerve damage in my back. The return of the electrical fires down my spine cause me to crumble in its embers. There are times I fight back like a huge fire house on a small stove top fire, while there are times I succumb to the heat as if no extinguisher can be found before the flames gobble up the entire house.

This past year in particular, I was enveloped in the raging fire. Rather than calling 911, I tried dousing it with alcohol (you know what that does to fire, right?), feeding the flames with junk food (who wants burnt junk food), screaming, crying, hiding in the stories of the lives of real housewives (Beverly Hills and NYC are my faves), and periodically blowing on it like candles on a birthday cake. Needless to say, none of this worked in response. I was engulfed in my own personal hell, and it was quickly becoming that of 10 alarm legends.

When my back gives way to my nerve endings shooting pain, I also give way. I become depressed, knowing I can't walk without a shock from each step. This body of mine becomes a jail cell, a life sentence for which there is no chance for parole. I am angry and sad and disappointed. If I do everything right to care for myself and seek out the help of the best in the business, why do I keep finding myself here? The struggle is real, friends. And it is maddening. You can't explain to others how much it affects your daily life or how much it hurts. And I seriously feel guilty that I.m not strong enough to simply get over it. Yes, my back aches, my legs are burning, and my feet are going numb, but my heart is weeping and my mind is telling me to just give up already. How many times am I going to "treat" this before I wave the white flag and simply give up?

Here is where my bad choices come in - the ones of self doubt and self pity. When you want to numb the hurt, rather than treat it, you do the stupid stuff. And let me tell ya, if you choose the stupid stuff enough, your body starts waging different wars against you, you're less fun to be around (or maybe even unbearable), and the whole self doubt and self pity thing becomes a whole lot bigger.

I went from fighting fires to trying to keep myself from drowning in my own tears. I am a highly emotional and feeling person. I cry a lot in comparison to others regardless of my mental state, but let's just say that I could've solved California's drought problems with the amount of tears I've shed in 2018 alone. When my hubby called me out on it - the massive increase in crying, that is - I knew it was serious. I thought I was hiding it well (like in the shower or bathroom). But my internal struggles were becoming evident externally - through my tears, anger, and poorly sought coping mechanisms. The medicines I was choosing were now magnifying my pain, rather than helping me to push through to the other side. I was suffering from all the adverse effects.

This acknowledgement is how I first came to the decision to lose weight. To take on the muffin top would give me a positive goal and some focus, pushing me to make all sorts of healthier decisions. But due to that desire to lose weight and get physically healthy, I was also forced to examine all the reasons I was not living my best life.

That crash was not my fault, and my physical pain is not my own doing or failing. My poor responses to those triggers, though, require me to take some accountability. They don't have to remain self sabotaging. I can change that.

I'm sorry, Grace. I let you down. When you needed encouragement, I fed you the lie that you are not worth the fight. I told you to sit back down, because you are not strong enough to carry the weight of your burdens. I let you think God walked out. But I am here today to tell you that not only are you worth it, but your ability to make a comeback has never been more evident. With such love, devotion, and faith, you will achieve successes you haven't yet had the courage to dream. You are a wonderful mother and doting wife. You are a thoughtful sister and caring daughter. You are a generous friend, and have tremendous work ethic. YOU ARE AMAZING, GRACE. It is time to believe it.

Stripping Down

"When were you happiest with your body?" the girl with the badge and toned body asked.

"Five years ago," I said.

The answer came out faster than I could've imagined, considering I didn't know the question was coming. I was wearing my favorite work out gear, and my hair was up in my cute double buns that look like antennae atop my head. I even had on a little tinted moisturizer and mascara, because if I think I look good, I have more confidence. This is true even when I plan to sweat my butt off.

Inside, though, I was shaking with nerves at the sight of the orange walls, loud music, and workout equipment. Where was the friend I had wrangled into going to this Orange Theory (OT) class with me? This whole "get fit" mission is one I had pursued before, but being alone with the clipboard questionnaire and fitness chick somehow made me feel small, though I probably was only ever bigger while pregnant. I felt silly and soft and vulnerable. Ugh! These are not my favorite ways to feel.

The instructor soon appeared, took me through the expected routine of the class and how to use the equipment. I saw my friend arrive, and I exhaled. Thank you, Lord! I would not be alone for the sweat fest part of this experience. I mean, I chose to do this and roped my friend into the deal (she was willing and loves OT, by the way), so why the heck was I such a timid mess? I was straight up dying inside.

I kept thinking about my answer to that question. Five years. What was five years ago?

I sweated and limped and sometimes squatted, ran, and rowed my way through the class. I hydrated, took a selfie and felt accomplished. I was also grateful for my friend who worked out next to me for that hour and made me feel like a star. She is a star.

The vision of myself five years ago kept haunting me, though. In fact, I was haunted for days. While pushing myself through a workout of my own design, it hit me as to why I was so much happier with my body back then. First of all, I should acknowledge the obvious thing - I weighed 30 pounds less than the trembling, awkward chick on the bench at OT. But there was more.

My view of myself and my life was different then. I lived in a place awash in gratitude. I had a 2 year old and 5 year old that brought me more joy and excitement than could ever be captured in words. I had a fire in my belly that burned stronger and longer than the Olympic torch. My "spare time" was spent running 5Ks and taking boot camp classes. My career was booming with opportunity and connections that made me proud and kept me fulfilled. My hubby and I were happier than a couple of newlyweds. I had purpose, goals, and drive to overcome whatever lay ahead.

These days...not so much. Why, Grace, why?

Happiness is a choice. And somewhere along the way, I started choosing other stuff. Like self pity. Like self doubt.

Silly as it may seem, I went and looked in the mirror. I made myself strip down - my clothes and my emotions. I looked at who I was right then in that moment - a tired, sad, overwhelmed, out of shape mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, colleague and woman. This was not the person of five years ago, and this was not the woman I would be the next day. No more. No more. No more.

I ran into the reality of my choices so hard, I may still be suffering from the effects of whiplash. All the stuff that had happened to and for me over the past five years didn't create the woman looking back at me. I did. It was time for new choices and a new investment in myself. This couldn't be my trajectory. I had to be intended for more than this.

I had shown up at OT with the mission and mindset that I needed to lose weight and feel better - physically - for my 40th birthday. This was a good goal, for sure. But now, I am not only working towards a physically healthier version of myself, but also one that finds strength emotionally and spiritually and in her connections with others.

Lumpy, clouded, sad, and awkward are not how I wish to define myself or ways I would want anyone to see me. Therefore, it is time to choose joy, seek out my own happiness, and create a life I am excited to live each day. That may mean sore muscles and difficult internal dialogues, but growth and gains don't come from comfort food or comfortable places. They come from pushing past that moment when you think you can't go another step.

When you cross a finish line you never thought you could reach, you suddenly see the person you dreamed you were, but didn't know was there all along.

Expectations

I recently got really mad at my husband. News flash, we fight. Oh, you and your partner fight, too? Okay, well then, you get it. I guess the news flash was really for me.

I was yelling at him for asking me to take HIS shirts to the dry cleaner. I mean, come on. Why couldn’t he do it? I was running the kids to and from God knows what, working full time just like him, and volunteering for kids’ all important activities. Everyone is always asking me for something, and he should know better than to pile on.

His eyes were wide. This dry cleaning thing is something I do all the time, and I was headed to the same shopping center anyway. Why was today so different?

That was when it hit me. He was right (which is the case a frustratingly large amount of the time). It wasn’t a big deal, and yes, I could take the shirts. I simply needed to voice the real reason I was upset. Go ahead, Grace, say it.

I was upset, because I do for everyone else. No one ever helps me. I make all the appointments, arrange for sitters, set up social events, manage the sports/activities calendar, take and pick up the dry cleaning, jockey the kids to the doctors, fill out paperwork, and on and on and on. The thing is, though, I don't ask for help. How was my husband to know I was drowning in the chaos, feeling lonely and underappreciated? I never told him. I never asked for the hand that everyone else in my house seemed fully capable of asking for. I was expecting him to see what I so dutifully hid from the world. I was overwhelmed and hating it.

When we got to the real issue, I cried. There was no longer anger, but an unveiling of resentment that was both unfair to my family and to me. They could never measure up to expectations they didn’t know existed, and I was being asked to do more than I could handle, though they weren’t aware. After all, it always somehow got done.

This was a lesson on several levels. One, I needed – clearly – to become more adept at admitting to needing an extra set of hands. This is very much not my jam. I am a self-proclaimed doer. Allowing myself to say, “I need help” sounded a lot like “I can’t do this” inside my head. When, in actuality, it means I am human.

Two, I definitely have to examine my anger for a second (or longer) before opening a can of whoop ass on those I love most. Even though they may be in the wrong, my flying off the handle isn’t serving anyone well. It just makes everyone feel bad. Plus, if my anger is misplaced, this gives me the time to make sure I am directing my feelings in the right way.

And finally, the big punch in the gut…I need to learn to love myself. I need to extend myself grace when things aren’t perfect, and I need to put "Me" on my list of priorities. While it first seemed selfish to me that I devote time to my personal growth when I am attempting to raise two girls to be strong women, that suddenly shown itself to be the exact reason it is important. Being an example of a woman valuable and worthy of investment, kindness, forgiveness, and fun is what I want for my girls. So yeah, I am now experiencing a revival of sorts – a love affair with myself. I don’t know what it all means yet, but if I can’t figure out what I want, expect, and cherish, I cannot expect those around me to respect my needs.