Warrior

I visited an urgent care office today. My face was throbbing, daggers shooting down my throat, and my head aching. I had my vitals checked by the nurse, and was assured I wasn't dying. Cue the doctor and the normal battery of questions - family history, allergies, current medications, last menstrual cycle...

I froze. How do I answer that properly?

"Well, I had a hysterectomy on January 7th, so, I guess..." I stuttered.

"Oh, no worries," she cut in. "That clears up the question. You're just so young."

While the hysterectomy was medically necessary, and I had made the decision to have no more children years prior, it was weird to say "hysterectomy" out loud to a stranger. The words felt like marbles in my mouth, and her apparent shock hit me in an unexpected way. I felt judged and defensive. A spoonful of reality I had swallowed willingly suddenly tasted sour. I seemingly failed the intake questionnaire.

As the day wore on, the optics of the conversation changed. I was able to refocus and recenter my thinking. Friends, I remembered what this whole thing was about. And it was never about my ability - or now inability - to have children. I did that miraculously and with sweet imperfect perfection twice. My age wasn't a factor for me. I needed this surgery, so I worked with my doctor to respond to my issues in a way that made sense for my health.

This period of time in my life has been intended for healing. I'm not my pain, but I did live with it for much too long. I am not a failing uterus, and I am certainly not less of a woman because I had mine removed. Rather, I am a woman who will strive tirelessly for wellness, strength, and the ability to be there for my children in a real and present way. I have been fighting against my own body for close to a decade. At 40, I decided that wouldn't be my future. Not because I will never feel pain again, but because I won't be defined by it.

So, my dear, put on your war paint (or charcoal mask), your battle gear (or camo athleisure), and demand better for yourself. No one will do it for you. If you look at yourself and see hurt, you will find it at every turn. But, even during recovery from a major surgery, if you choose to see a warrior, you will find her. I promise.

(And, so you know, it was a sinus infection. With some steroids and antibiotics, I should be fine in no time. God bless modern medicine.)

Finding Joy at 40

Today, I am 40 years old. 40. I couldn't wait for this day to come. For more than a year I have been planning the party that will take place. I have envisioned the location, people, decorations, and general feeling of celebration. I love birthdays, and such a milestone brings fanfare and fun. That's totally my thing.

Yet, in the months leading up to this big birthday, life took a shift. I was thrown blow after blow. First, the barn we are building would not be complete. There went the location I had been decorating in my dreams. Then, I literally smashed my face into pavement, breaking my nose. There went the pain free, physically active everyday streak I was on...and the leave from work I planned to take in order to prepare for the shindig. Next, a category 4 hurricane made landfall and ripped through our home away from home in Florida. This upended my eagerly awaited couples' trip and put into question our investment properties and retirement plan.

The joy and anticipation I had been building up was now buried beneath disappointment, hurt, and fear. Not because I was getting older, but because I couldn't see beyond the punches to the gut I was taking. I woke up everyday questioning God's plan. What was I supposed to be learning from this? Why was this all happening - and at once? Like cold water to the face, I needed to wake up to the truth. Again, I was the problem. Crap happens. Life isn't always going to go my way. I haven't been working so hard everyday for months to practice gratitude to learn how to be happy when life is roses and rainbows. I was training myself to reach for gratitude when I am feeling low.

Since this is still a muscle I am learning to use and flex, it didn't come easy. The tough stuff is tough after all. But when I started to look for the cracks of light through the dark clouds, I kept finding more and more sun shining into my heart.

I have a home to welcome my family and friends into for the celebration I planned. The layout is different now, but the party will go on. The barn isn't a wasted effort. It is moving along (though at a slower pace) and will be completed at some point. We'll be so happy to have future parties there, and they, too, will be fabulous.

My nose, though it still hurts, is put back together. I still look like me, and I am BLESSED to have great medical coverage. In addition, my friends and family were incredibly loving and supportive as I navigated through the trauma. I was showered with love and gentle care, encouragement and more love. How can you not see the joy in all of that?

From Hurricane Michael, our condominium building saw a little damage, but our units are fine. The area of town where we are situated was mostly spared from tremendous and devastating destruction. Sure, my vacation with friends needed to be postponed, but our dreams were not reduced to rubble as we feared.

And while we couldn't make the couples' trip work, we will reschedule. Everyone was disappointed, but no one is giving up on the trip. We just had to switch the timeline. And my husband, being the brilliant man he is, recognized the stress and struggle I was fighting through and swept me away to one of our favorite places for fun. It wasn't the weekend we planned, yet it was the answer to my prayers. He reminded me - yet again - why I choose him everyday. I was treated to a four day date where everything was as I wished - meals, naps, gambling, drinks, a comedy show, shopping, movies, more naps. There was romance and friendship. There was rest and a break. He saw me. Nothing feels better than that level of love.

There was joy. There is joy. It is all a matter of perspective.

In my twenties, I received my college education, moved out on my own, and got married. There was a sense of infancy as I began that decade of my life, slowly learning to toddle my way through adulthood. I started a career and began to take on new roles - like wife, lessee, car owner, and payer of bills. Everything was exciting and new, but also so much bigger and heavier than in my teens. The decisions I made really mattered and carried weight. I had to learn how to budget both time and money. People relied on me at work and at home, and responsibility started to mean more than getting an essay in on time. I began to carve out a path for myself. The terrain was rough, and I had the skinned knees to prove it. My footing became more and more sure of itself, though, and the path became a little clearer and smoother. Lots of winding and hills, but it was mine.

My thirties, on the other hand, felt like puberty - lots of change that wasn't always as awesome as you imagined. Hello, motherhood. There was one - and then two - girls who changed my life in ways words have yet to define. Learning to be a mom is a work in progress, obviously, but the shock and gravity of the "job", and the worry that comes alongside it, was something to grapple with before I could truly stand securely. As I worked to figure out what being a mom meant to me (how it felt, what it looked like), I teetered less and less and began to take root.

Throughout this time, I also sought out people to help when the earth shook me off my axis (or I just needed someone who simply understood the current day's drama). I navigated my way through the mommy circles to find my tribe. The women who have become confidants and cheerleaders gave me a sense of community and belonging I needed to build my individual confidence. Through new and lifelong friendships I stitched a beautiful quilt of connections and warmth - my very own safety blanket.

Plus, I got to witness my husband growing as a father to our girls and a partner for me. That was also a tremendous boost for me. Our family grew, and we did, too.

As I enter this new decade, I am excited beyond measure. I feel much less awkward and gawky. The need to impress others or seek their approval is of less and less importance. I have in no way, shape, or form figured it all out (like, not at all), but I am so much more confident in my beliefs, character, and sense of self. It is freeing and empowering. I continue to work on me everyday, which includes the needed effort to reach for joy on the bad days (yes, it is oh, so hard). Being happy is most definitely a choice. And I am choosing to make this my happiest birthday yet. Today, I am 40. Today, I am joyful.

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.