thankful

i'm pretty sure 2018 has been 900 years long.

Last week was thanksgiving. I was fortunate enough again this year to have one of the best people on earth open her home to me AND she was kind enough to break with the traditional thanksgiving feast to teach me a few recipes I’ve been waiting years to figure out (Harvard beets are still as good as I remember them!)

But, in keeping with tradition, I’ve taken the last week to really try to find what I’m thankful for this year. In an especially chaotic and painful year, it’s been a challenge, but here we go:

This year I am thankful for my health. I have been so, so, so incredibly blessed in the health arena. I’ve given birth twice and had my gallbladder removed in my life. That’s NOTHING. Especially as a single mother. I have been so endlessly fortunate that I’ve never been sidelined with an illness. I’ve never had my health affect my job, cause financial stress, cause long-term anxiety. Even my mental health- the last few months I’ve really been realizing how deep and widespread my anxiety has been my whole life, but I’ve still managed to function around it. YES, I’m realizing the major impact it’s had, but I’m still functioning. I am so, so, so incredibly thankful for my health. I haven’t taken the best care of myself. I loathe working out. My attempts at dieting and exercising have been short lived and never with any regularity. I’m pushing 40 and still hit way too many drive-thru restaurants to be considered anything even remotely close to smart dietary decisions. And yet here I am. Insurance has been off and on over the years with job changes, but it’s always been there when I did need it. I have friends facing major medical problems- heart issues, surgeries, torn muscles, broken bones, dental issues, circulation issues…I can’t even imagine what some of them are dealing with physically AND financially. So THANK YOU. THANK YOU UNIVERSE. Thank you for my health. Thank you for keeping me running all these years and able to keep up with my kids and work and life. I am thankful for my physical health and thankful that I’ve found a great therapist helping me sort out my mental health.

I’m thankful for friends. Not just friends, but FRIENDS. The ones you call at 10:30pm when you’ve just finished dealing with the police and you can’t think straight and you can’t tell the difference between tears and snot. The friends you can call or snapchat or text at literally any time of day and they’ve got you. They may not respond right away, because, you know, life, but you KNOW they’re not ignoring you. You know they’ll get back to you as soon as they can. There’s such a security in that. There’s such a safety in having people that you can say literally ANYTHING to and they’ll respond “…giiiiiiirl…” and you know they get you. You know they’ll talk you down from the ledge, even if it’s the 10^th time this month. You know they’ll help you brainstorm, research, sort through. I’ve struggled my entire life trying to be what I thought people wanted me to be. Being careful of what I say, trying not to let too much of my freak flag out. I struggled to be socially appropriate, not embarrass anyone, be “proper” and fit in. this last year I’ve started just…existing. I let myself be myself. I’ve allowed myself the space to speak my mind, say the things that probably shouldn’t be said. And you know what? Not only did my friends stick around, it deepened my bond with them and more often than not they responded SAME. All my fear, my whole life, of chasing people away by being myself? Turns out when you find the GOOD PEOPLE that’s not an issue. They love you and accept you. That’s a beautiful, beautiful thing. I’m so glad for my friends. I’m so glad I found my people. I LOVE MY PEOPLE. I am so thankful for them. I’m so thankful they accept me and have helped allow me to become ME.

I’m thankful to whatever force in the universe has protected me this year. Things at home have been…it’s been bad. Things right now are hard and ugly and heartbreaking. I’m living alone for the first time ever, years before it was the plan. My kids…I can’t go there right now. Things are hard. BUT, they could be so much worse. I’m alive. I’m safe. There’s been moments when neither of those were a guarantee. I can’t explain the pure, heart wrenching terror of finding hidden weapons in your home and wondering why they were hidden and what their intended purpose was. Finding a hatchet hidden in the kitchen, finding an 8” hunting knife, 3 bb guns, an airsoft pistol and countless pocketknives/switchblades/throwing stars. Why were they hidden around the house? Why didn’t I know they were in my home? What was the purpose for them? Where did they come from? There have been so many times I was scared for my safety even without knowing there were things hidden in my house. How much worse could it have been? How close was I to…to harm? Additionally, there have been so many threats, challenges, visits from the police. There have been investigations, questions, visits and phone calls. And I’m safe. All the 911 calls for help, all the threats at school to teachers and other students, all the confrontations with police officers. we have somehow avoided being on the evening news or on the local scanner listeners radar. I’ve seen so many stories come across the local news pages- 911 calls, suicide threats, students threatening other students, teenagers in confrontations with the police…and somehow none of them were from my house. I am so, endlessly grateful for whatever bubble of protection kept us from that spotlight. I’m so grateful that, for the majority, all my interactions with responding police officers have been calm, logical, positive. They’ve listened, kept their cool, helped out with all the resources they had available. I’m thankful for case managers, cps workers, counselors that helped find a safe path and resources. I’m thankful for the safety and the protection and the protected bubble that has kept the worst of the worst case scenarios at bay. I’m so endlessly thankful for whatever, wherever that protection came from.

I am thankful for my jobs. I have 2 great jobs with 2 great bosses and so many great coworkers. I haven’t been worried for a second letting my bosses know what’s been going on. They’ve graciously allowed me the space to make it to court, attend therapy, cry at my desk as needed. They’ve offered help in whatever way they could and made sure to let me know my job was never at risk. Having work, having a “normal” routine to keep me distracted/focused has been so immense. It has been my anchor. Whatever else has been happening, whatever news headlines, whatever personal headlines, work was there for me. I’m good at my job. i’m good at being able to compartmentalize and focus on getting things done. It’s been immeasurably helpful to have one steady constant. I know, Monday through Friday I have to get up and get out of bed. I have things that need done. Timesheets that need processed. Invoices that need paid. I make a difference where I work, at both places. I’m an important part of the team. I’m used and useful and my absence would be noted. That’s lovely. That’s…it’s the anchor I’ve needed.

It’s been a hard year. Fuck it. It’s been a hard 10 fucking years. There’s been pockets of goodness in there, but I just feel like life has been a slow burning dumpster fire since 2009. I’m ready for that to change. I’m working to make that change happen. My therapist homework assignment last week was to start planning for the future. REALLY planning for the future. Not just the “someday” bullshit that I’ve kept on a back burner. Actually planning and working toward specific things. Something I’ve never done. Since 7/1998 it’s been “raise my kids” without much thought beyond that. Now, suddenly, I’m beyond that and have no direction, no goals, no plan. So I’m working on it. And I’m thankful for the people guiding me through that process (my therapist is amazingly patient but firm and honest y’all).

I’m just. I’m thankful y’all. I know there’s so many things I could throw in here: music, books, movies, art, bartenders, beauty crew…all the little pieces and things that I appreciate. I’m thankful that I am able to plan finances and make adjustments as needed. I’m thankful that while I may not be able to COOK (I’m a box and can girl, not a from scratch girl) I’ve never gone hungry a day in my life. I’m thankful that I have a lovely apartment and managers that have been patient and kind. I’m thankful for SO MUCH.

It’s been a hard year. It’s been a sad year. It’s been a scary year. It’s been a heartbreaking year. But I’m still so thankful. I’m thankful for insight and awareness that allows me to process and experience.

I’m so thankful y’all for so much. I’m so thankful.

*under construction*

well, they say a change will do you good and HOLY FUCK DID IT.

it's been a few months since the move- i'm officially all unpacked and settled (with the exception of maybe 4 boxes).

art is up, furniture is broken in, things are GOOD.

i knew things had been rough for a while. i thought i was mostly ok with occasional bouts of depression. now i'm realizing things were really bad. i was mostly depressed with occasional bouts of BAD depression.

now, in this apartment, things are GOOD.

i am the happiest and healthiest i've been in...i honestly don't even know how long. 5 years? 7 years? 13 years?

i still struggle. i'm still incredibly lonely a lot of the time. like the 4th of july...no plans, no particular place to go or anything to do. it was rough. didn't help when someone compared me to a girl that had to...how did they put it..."...basically forced [people] into hanging out with her today. it's her birthday and she has no friends. similar story to yours."

ACES. so. those thoughts in my head all the time about being a burden on people? not wanting to force them to spend time with me? my hesitation to reach out to people because it will inconvenience them or they won't feel comfortable enough to say no. OH. THOSE ARE ALL REAL AND TRUE. PEOPLE FEEL THAT WAY.

*sigh* well fuck a duck.

BUT. enough with that bullshit. I CAN ENTERTAIN MYSELF JUST FINE.

things have been changing since the move. there's been a shift and i'm still trying to sort it all out.

I'M DIFFERENT.

i'm like...happy.

know what happens when you're happy?

you care about yourself.

you take care of yourself.

i'm eating healthier. working out regularly (30 days and 15 lbs!). meditating. doing things i've always talked myself out of. some of it has to do with money. whomever said money can't buy you happiness was full of shit. IT REALLY CAN. well...it can smooth the way anyway. easier to be happy when you're not struggling and stressing every minute. good shit takes money. better quality clothes that fit and make me like how i look? make me feel more confident on a daily basis? NOT FREE. good quality skin care? NOT FREE. healthier food? better quality cooking ingredients? NOT FREE. things that i love and want in my home? NOT FREE (especially good art!).

there's things that have been put off WAY too long that just...they make a difference. shallow or not, they make a difference. braces for the kiddo that he's waited YEARS for? they take money. braces for me? that i've waited thirty years for? they take money.

and i know, i'm sure i'm missing the grand point that true happiness can be found without all those things...it's who you are inside. it's a million other cliches.

but for me, it's those things. it's being able to not be worried about the car breaking down. not being worried about hot lunch money. not being worried about if either of us gets sick. what happens if i miss work? what happens if he wants to go to summer camp? safety net: secure.

so, that has been GREAT.

the bigger change though has been the little things.

shortly after we moved in, i plugged the tv into some good old fashioned rabbit ears and watched ACTUAL TV for the first time in years. do you know how fucking amazing jeopardy and wheel of fortune are? do you know how much watching a 3 hour block of america ninja warrior and spartan races makes me want to DO something? there's a basic connection of shared experiences...watching the same crappy commercials at the same time as other people. cheering on people from my home town while they're racing (ok, not WHILE...i get the whole production delay. shut up.)

it's one of the most basic things, but i look forward to getting home at night, plugging in the lights on my patio, and watching some good old fashioned TV. not netflix, not amazon prime. regular old TV.

since the move, it feels like i've been plugged back into real people, real life. it feels like i was in a bubble for a long time. i wasn't connected to anything. i would get home from work and lay on my couch waiting to go back to work the next morning.

now i get home from work and we run errand, have dinner, work out, DO THINGS. i've been to movies, concerts, theater, even a 20's themed birthday party where i *gasp* wore red lipstick and a dress.

WHAT???

maybe it's the move, maybe it's summer, maybe it's me, maybe it's all of it.

but I LIKE IT. and i'm committing myself to the next year of keeping it going. i'll have braces for one year, so i'm considering myself under construction for that year. i'm being refreshed and updated. i'm committing to working out. going out. meditation. self care.

and then, if i can do one year, why not make it two? the last 3 months have been SO. GREAT. imagine a whole year? 2 years? i'm gunning for it.

i kinda like this happy/healthy thing.

it's weird.

confessions of a fat girl

not-so-breaking news:

I AM A FAT GIRL.

now. i know that's an ugly word- that FAT word. it carries so many social and self esteem implications in it. it's mean and degrading and hurtful and really just a not nice word.

and i don't use it lightly.

but i am. i'm a FAT girl.

i'm not made to be small. i know this. my frame, my family, my everything does not lend me to being the type of girl anyone ever describes as "willowy" or "flowingly slender" or any of those other teen drama book descriptions of apparently every heroine that ever existed.

i know i'll never be the size i was in high school ever again. hell, i don't ever remember actually BEING the size i was in high school but apparently at some point in life i had a 28" waist and could wear a size 2 dress (there's pictures to prove it.). i don't ever WANT to be the size i was in high school. it wouldn't be healthy for me to be 145 pounds again. i would look like skeletor (but with better hair).

BUT.

i'm tired of being a fat girl.

and here's why i'm using the word FAT:

i eat like CRAP- taco bell, mcdonalds, pizza, endless nights out at restaurants around town. i don't shy away from cheesecake...like...EVER. i LOVE pretty much all foods- especially those of the carb variety (can someone explain how BREAD, a carb, became the standard side to PASTA, also a carb? both of which are on my favorite things list).

i also happen to HATE exercising. well, not hate so much as i'm not good at exercising. i do love yoga. i love the wii fit (when it's not calling me obese). but i'm not good at going to a gym or biking or walking. i know. simplest thing ever- going for a walk. but WHERE do you go. and it's boring to go alone. and walking/running trails are where all the dead bodies get dumped. i get bored with videos easily. i have a million ideas pinned to my pinterest exercise board, but i need a better way to look at them or remember more than one of them at a time.

yes. i realize these are all lame, easily solved excuses. end of the day i just avoid working out. it's easier to sit and read a book or watch a movie.

i would say the rest of my life is SO HARD, i deserve one easy thing! but that's a stupid answer too. it should be that i'm used to hard, so just suck it up and do it anyway.

so yes. i'm FAT. as in i'm not healthy by any of the measurements (physical, exercise, diet, etc). i'm not taking care of myself at all. i'm pretty much pure fat by BMI index measurements as well- i'm sure there SOME muscle hiding in there, but i'll be damned if i know where it is. my clothes are too tight, my bra size is jumping by the week, every part of me jiggles, i'm just not what i want to be.

SO.

i don't want to be a FAT girl anymore.

i want to be HEALTHY. this does not mean skinny. this does not mean a certain number on the scale or on the clothing rack.

IT DOES MEAN: cooking good meals AT HOME. it does mean going for walks or doing yoga or the wii fit. it does mean not being out of breath if i have to walk up three flights of stairs. it does mean setting a good example for the small spawn (who is a solid build as well). it does mean being more comfortable in my clothes. it does mean being more body confident and not feeling like i need to find ways to hide the things i don't like about myself. it does mean still eating the foods i love, drinking wine, having cheesecake but WITHIN REASON.

i will always be a BIG girl. but i'm tired of being a FAT girl.

so. i'm working on it.

i've started making sure i have healthy snacks at work and that i'm actually eating breakfast. i've almost completely cut out soda and am working at drinking more water. the wii has been reconnected downstairs, and as soon as new batteries are procured i'll be getting off my ass and using it in the evenings. the weather is getting nicer and it's staying late longer, so there's no reason the spawn and dog and i can't go out for an after work jaunt. i don't expect this to be some magical overnight change. it will be a process, starting new habits (and sticking to them for 28 days until they become a a natural choice instead of a habit).

i'm honestly not setting any goals or timelines or anything because this will be a LIFESTYLE, not a 3 week kick.

i still want to have boobs and a butt and be able to go out with friends without being the girl that orders a leaf of lettuce and a glass of water. i want to fill out my dresses in different places but still fill them out. i want to be sexy and soft and confident.

so. there you have it.

i'm a fat girl. working on being better. bit by wobbly bit.

#londoncalling

so, what’s going on with london? well, funny you ask- it’s TWO DAYS AWAY.

(insert squee noises and happy dance here).

passport is in hand, tickets are waiting online, bags are packed (well, besides the last minute stuff), and i’m ready to leave on a jet plane.

yes, it gets more obnoxious from here.

it’s been weeks of amazing awesome, crazy stress, fear, hope, everything in between. bottom line: when something is meant to happen, it WILL happen. i really do believe there’s a time and a reason for everything, hell, i have it tattoed on my body. but never more than the last few weeks has that believe PROVED itself.

going to london didn’t just happen. it took a bit of effort. it took a few large miracles. here’s a few of the dirty details:

passport: i got my passport just a few days ago back in June of 1997. just a few days. it had long since expired, i’ve moved...oh...a *FEW* times since then. how the hell was i going to find it to renew it, and would i be able to get it in time even with the expedited?

YES and YES. literally less than 2 minutes of looking i found the old passport. it was in a basket of random crap by my bed. don’t even know. went to the post office to renew it, took a new picture (which looks surprisingly good), paid the *ouch* expedited fee, sent it off and crossed my fingers. the told me it would take 2-3 weeks- three weeks would put it ON the day i was leaving. *panic*

EIGHT DAYS. that’s it. eight days and my new passport was in the mail waiting for me. the new one came in before the old one was returned. step one: completed.

plane ticket: i don’t know about anyone else, but i’m not the girl with an extra thousand just sitting around. i SHOULD be. i get that. savings accounts are nifty. but when you’re *just* starting to get regular paychecks again and you spent all your money on a house and repairs and life...well, it’s paycheck to paycheck around my house and last time i checked the trees in the yard are only fruit trees, not money trees. still working on that. so HOW did i manage a plane ticket to london?

i had a honda element that i was driving. good car, was my dream car at one point. researched it for years before buying one. drove it. loved it. started to hate it. REALLY HATED IT. simple little things: barn doors- nifty for moving/getting things in and out. HELL in a parking lot with a kiddo in the back seat. four seats: sounds cool, there’s only 3 of us, but what if the kids want to have a friend over? or what if i want to carpool with people? or if i’m going out to dinner with a friend and their kid? SCREWED. also: why does any car newer than 2000 NOT have heated side mirrors for winter time? and why do i only have TWO cup holders? little things make a big difference. great car, not for me. i’d been thinking about trading her in/selling her for quite a while. had her listed on craigslist several times. nothing. hmmm.

there’s a car lot two blocks away from my house with one of those “cash for cars” things written on the window. uh huh. i would love to be prison raped without lube, how did they know? thought i’d check it out just to see. drove onto the lot, drove off 3 hours later with a new car and $1700 in my pocket.

yeah. that happened. traded my 2010 element in, drove off with a 2010 dodge caliber- close to the same miles, more space, better gas mileage, LOVE driving the caliber. been looking at those since i started thinking about trading the element. here’s hoping another dream car doesn’t bite me in the ass.  BUT. they paid me the difference of the trade in IN CASH. how often does that happen? seriously. no car payment, better car, cash in hand. LONDON PLANE TICKET PURCHASED. step two: complete.

so. i have my passport, i have my plane ticket- what else is there?

oh yeah- there’s ME.

i’ve been getting sick off on an for a few months. wake up at 2 in the morning, throw up a few time, sit around in pain for a few hours, go back to my life. thought i had it figured out- knew it happened after eating certain foods. just figured i was getting old. getting old sucks. then it started happening more often. with different foods. oh crap.

last monday it hit pretty bad. i finally did some research and thought i had it dialed in to my gallbladder. well. that sucks. what can you do? monday night was pretty rough. made it through. worried a little about the trip, but figured i had at least a few weeks, maybe a month before it would hit again if the pattern held (except the fact that it had already happened a few times in a few weeks...the OLD pattern...).

then it hit again friday night. BAD. well, shit. i can’t get on a plane if this is happening every few days. NOW WHAT?

i don’t have insurance. i can’t just call up, make an appointment, get checked out. i DID make an appointment with the community health clininc. for december 5th. well, shit. that’s not now. and that’s not before london. SHIT SHIT SHIT.

FUCK. FINE.

checked into an emergency room. the pain was the worst yet, it wasn’t going away, and it was twice in one week.

SEVEN, yes SEVEN hours later i checked out of the ER. bad news: it is indeed my gallbladder. as the ultrasound tech put it: you’re pretty packed full honey (stones).

GOOD NEWS: no infection. if i watch what i eat i *should* be good at least until my appointment on the 5th when i can check about financial aid to get the damn thing removed.

BETTER NEWS: i can still go to london.

THANK HEAVENS. somewhere around hour five in the ER i broke down in tears waiting for someone to see me. terrified i was going to have to cancel, have emergency surgery, all the worst case scenarios. that’s what three days of no sleep, extreme pain, and sitting in a shitty ER waiting room that long will do to you (to make matters worse: the TV was stuck on disney channel in the waiting room and BET in the exam room. why do they hate people so much?).

SO. passport: check. ticket: check. me: check (ish...i have pain meds just in case).

i started packing my bag last night. it’s getting real. less than 48 hours and i’ll be on a plane.

HOLY SHIT.

less than 48 hours.

i can’t even put into words how much i just want to SEE him. i mean texting is great, skype is fucking awesome. but to SEE him. IN PERSON. to be able to hug him. no time delay between texts, no crappy connection making skype freeze up. HIM. in front of me. after eight years. it might sound stupid, but it makes me tear up and my whole body aches. emotions this strong are a strange thing. especially for me. over a guy.

i’m trying really hard to just enjoy the fact that i’m going to london. i get to see england. 100 acre woods. alice in wonderland. beatrix potter. shakespeare. canterbury tales. all the things i studied and read about. this is where they happened. this is where they were created. i’ve always wanted to travel. and i am. and that in itself is so exciting.

i don’t want to put any expectations on anything else. i just want to go and see.

how could i say no to this adorable LuLu purse?

raising the warning flag

 

if you don’t let people know there’s a problem, they can’t help you find the solution.

there isn’t a problem.

yet.

i’m filling the sandbags and preparing the emergency packs just in case.

i’m being honest, i’m being truthful, i’m trying like hell to head the stampede off at the ravine.

i’m terrified of the month of august. hell. i’m terrified of july thru october. there’s so much that just- i can’t really prepare for it, i just have to be aware and recognize and say when i need help.

it’s been three years since we lost tyra and baby roman. if you’re not familiar, tyra was my oldest sons step mother. she was a BEAUTIFUL young lady. the best thing to happen to my sons father. she was a pure, sweet soul that impacted everyone she knew in only the best and most positive ways. she passed away due to complications during childbirth and baby roman was only here long enough to be baptized before he went to be with his sweet mother.

as that was happening my brother steve was in a severe accident that left him in a medical coma for several days and started the path to his life ending a few months later in october 2009. august was the month we watched him struggle in the hospital. september we watched him go through rehab and thought he was getting better. that year was the first time he had ever called me on my birthday (ours were just a few days (and years) apart). october we lost him to suicide.

two years ago this august i lost my dad.

my kids will be leaving this sunday for a MUCH NEEDED mommy vacation. i love my children. i can’t imagine ever not being with them. but i need a break. there is no tag team parenting here. there is no wednesdays/every other weekend off. this will be the longest time EVER that i will be without my kids. EVER. in the last 14 years. i’ve had a week off here and there. i’ve even had two weeks off-ish (with a day in between transfers). this will be three full weeks without kids. it’s great. i need time to refresh and rebuild.

BUT.

that’s also a LOT of alone time. during the hard months. i know i haven’t deal with 80% of the grief. i’ve been busy, distracted, head in the sand over the last two years. i’ve avoided and held it together because i’ve HAD to hold it together. i’m more than a little worried that there will be too much “thinky thoughts” time during the next three weeks. i’m worried that known triggers will get to me. the autism cruise scares me because it was the next day i woke up to the news about my dad. the cruise didn’t cause it, it’s an illogical association, but it’s associated.  when i got the news about tyra, steves accident, my dad- my kids were gone staying with someone for the week. now they’re going to be gone staying with someone and i’m already on edge worried about what news will come this time. my kids being gone didn’t cause anything to happen. same as the boat cruise didn’t start my dad’s fire. but it’s there. it’s a reminder, a trigger.

so. here i am. asking for help. i’m getting pretty good at watching myself and recognizing things for what they are. doesn’t mean I won’t slip or that someone else won’t catch it faster than  I will. We all know how it’s easier to see things in others than ourselves.

when life hits the reset button:

the other day a friend posted a video blog about taking care of yourself- following the 4 R’s: Rest, Rejuvenation, Reloading, and Reconnecting. i think those are pretty self explanatory, but if not, go check out his blog here: http://middleway.posterous.com/the-4-rs-of-self-care very wise words. as i was typing a comment on his blog, i realized i had WAY too much to say in one comment (shocker) and so decided to post my own blog.

i know…i bounce between completely crazy off the wall posts to serious life posts…imagine living with me.

but this one…i’ve been thinking about it for a while…what do you do when life hits the reset button?

you know what i mean…when everything takes a sudden left turn when you were planning on going straight or right. when life dumps you on your ass, gives you an atomic wedgie, steals your lunch money, licks your glasses (what? that never happened to you?) or in general just does whatever it can to fuck you over. i’ve had the reset button hit SEVERAL times on me. i know other people that have had it hit on them. and it’s never the same. some days the reset button is just a simple: hey- want to go to a big college? some days it’s : hey- remember everything that was important to you that you held dear and close to your heart? yeah, i’m taking that away.

and what do you do when shit hits the fan? there is no right answer. there is no perfect way to respond. there is no handbook, no right thing to do, no perfect first step. but the important part is TAKING a step. any step. to just keep stepping. like sean said in his post- you have to take time for the 4 R’s- you have to rest, rejuvenate, reload, reconnect (which implies a time of DISCONNECT which is ok). taking that in a different direction , or the scenic route of the same direction- i have to REDUCE. sean mentioned at the beginning having his routines that he does, his hobbies- i call it my core self. WHO AM I? what makes me tick? what is my main fall back that i can always go back to and always find myself in? some people it’s being out doors, some people it’s dancing or art or sports or music. for me, it’s writing. writing has ALWAYS been my fall back. journaling, writing, blogging, anything- it’s my core, it’s what i go back to. so when shit hit, i REDUCE back to my core. i cut out what i need to be it people or activities or tv or whatever. i go back to what i know best, what makes me feel my best, something i know that i can always do. i’ve been writing since i could hold a pencil (my mom still has my first book- stapled backwards since i’m left handed and it just made sense that way).

my first big reset button that i really remember was 10/1997. that’s when life said- hey, guess what: PREGO! talk about a reset button. from a no plans high school senior just wandering through life, suddenly i had someone else to be responsible for, a life to plan, things i had to do, decisions i had to make- HOLY CRAP. and at the time it wasn’t a conscious thought, but i started to journal. and i wrote about it ALL. from how it happened to thinking about adoption to the doctors appointments, fights with the baby daddy, making plans, being scared shitless, going into labor. i wrote it all out and it helped me focus and make it through it all.

second big reset button: hello divorce. wow. i just found all those journals a while back and read through them again. it got really REALLY bad there for a while. but i wrote it out. i remember TELLING myself to write that time around. i had no one to talk to, no where to go, and i KNEW that i could write. i was TERRIFIED to write. he had read a few old journals and was NOT ok with me writing- but i made myself write (and hide the journal under the mattress). it got it all out. it sorted my thoughts, reminded me on the bad days of the good things, and reminded me on the questionable things why i was getting out. it helped me hold it together and remember and make it through. it also helped heal afterwords- getting it all out about a major change- divorce, two kids, a sick baby, part time work, the whole mess. and it was A TON of crap going on. i look back now and know that if i hadn’t had some way to get myself through it- who knows. but i knew to go back to my core. i knew how to pull myself out.

the last few years big and little reset buttons have hit: problems with the kids, close people passing away, fights, loves, friends, happy, sad, pissed off. things change constantly: we’ve moved, we’ve changed schools, daycare, found out about abuse, found out about suicide, found out about betrayal- and it’s all been there on my blogs (sorry about some of those by the way…). it was my out. it was my way to make it through, to get back to a balance. i had to go back to my core, reduce to my true self: writing. and i always recommend that to people. my oldest son is turning into an artist: so when shit hits the fan for him i tell him to draw about it. i learned the hard way once to never take away his art work- holy world ending. but when he lost his step mom and brother last year he was lost. hell…anyone would be lost after a blow like that, but an 11 year old kid? and he didn’t know what to do or how to let it out and i told him to draw it out. draw his lost brother the way he wanted him to be: make him the hero in a comic book, or the main character in a story. draw about his step mom and his dad, draw whatever he felt. i don’t know if he ever did, but it helped him just knowing what to do or where to turn if he needed to. i could see the heavy lift off him when the suggestion sunk in- something he was good at and could freely express him self in. it was like watching a light bulb turn on in his head. and it’s been that way sense. when he gets stressed he draws. now we just have to learn the balance between getting school work done and being stressed at school and drawing…oy. double-edged sword!

but- i promise, i’m getting to a point. i need an editor. sheesh.

BUT. i look at friends, i look at people i know and i wonder if they have the tools. i wonder if they know the 4 R’s of taking care of themselves. i wonder if they know who they are and what their core is that they can fall back on. and i see people struggling and i hurt for them. i hurt for the lost feeling and the pain and not knowing how to come out of it.

i’ve seen so many people struggling and having HUGE reset buttons hit in their lives the last year and i wonder if they know who they are, if they have a core to go back to. do they know how to find themselves and rebuild from the ashes? and it terrifies me the ones that don’t seem to. even more so as a fixer: i want to make it better for them. i want to point them in the right direction and give them a push and hold their hand and make it all work out. but how can i point them in the right direction if they don’t know what their direction is?

i guess that’s the point. it’s not the point i started out to have…but go figure. FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE. take time away, before a crisis hits. think about it. WHO ARE YOU? what is your core? what can you fall back on? what do you need to reduce to? what can you rejuvenate yourself with? what will restore you? it’s one of the most important lessons i’ve learned in life: finding out how to heal myself. i can’t expect others to do it for me. i can’t expect other people to know what to say or what to do. I NEED TO KNOW. and i want my friends to know. i want them to know how to make it better when the really shitty reset buttons are pushed. i want to see (and help) them rebuild. i want to watch them grow and learn and come out of things instead of faltering and becoming lost. so. ugh. getting sappy up in here. please friends: take a minute to learn yourself. make a note of it somewhere you’ll run across it often. leave reminders/objects around your house. let your friends know. find out who you are. and once you know, remember to take time to be the healthiest YOU. the 4 R’s are really important to live by. because i love ALL of you. and i want you to stick around for A LONG TIME. i mean… my blog needs readers. cause in the end, it’s all about me and what i need. remember that.