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Have you ever wanted to freeze a moment in time and keep it in your heart forever? This picture is one of those moments. Christmas lights that sit just above ferns that were at our son's wedding. Teenagers' backpacks on a 20+ year old golf cart that my husband paid for with his lawn services. You know, back when good people made a fair trade. Banners in a messy garage for our favorite sports teams. The big, impractical but so comfortable SUV that carries us across the state to watch our son play ball. The 10 year old truck that has safely carried my husband to work and escorted costume-clad kids on a trailer around our neighborhood on Halloween. Our driveway and this garage have seen different cars and car seats, bikes and scooters, strollers and toys. Even a Harley and a dirtbike or two. One thing remains. Love. Family love. Real love that you can hang your hat on. Imperfect love, but love still the same. Merry Christmas, friends.
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I have been waking up before 5 AM consistently for 11 years. It started with necessity, nursing my child before work, but it continued for several reasons. When my firstborn was an infant, my stepson was eight. This meant I had to be stealthfully quiet as I woke the baby, fed him, spent some time with him, and then passed him to his daddy while I showered and dressed for work. It was a time before AirPods, and before I had discovered podcasts or Audible. Facebook was barely a thing. And phones in general were just not attached to everyone’s hands like they are today. It was in these near silent moments without technology, with only a cuddly warm baby in my lap, that I discovered the true meaning of quiet contentment. Just me, rocking my baby boy guided only by the white noise sound machine and gentle soft lighting. I wasn’t scrolling. I wasn’t comparing. I wasn’t wishing, nor was I regretting. There was no self-loathing. My job had not even adopted an electronic medical record yet, so working from home was not possible. I wasn’t paying bills from a little icon on my phone. I didn’t have 400 emails in my inbox, or at least I didn’t know that I had them. Just quiet. Just peaceful. Just two humans bound by DNA and love and touch and time. Fast forward to 2021 and that baby is in sixth grade. My stepson has left the nest and is thriving, and my youngest son is in fourth grade. My alarm still goes off at 4:30 AM, but I am alone. Yes, the house is still quiet like it was back then. The lights are still low. But things have changed. There is a technological miracle that fits in the palm of my hand now. It is full of red dots that quicken my pulse. There is a slick, silver, almost paper-thin computer that is full of lab results and refill requests and exam notes to finish. Now I know that I have 400 emails in my inbox. There are all these little icons in my hand that tell me I’m not good enough when I open them. There are ads everywhere that seem to call my digital wallet’s name. What happened to those early morning quiet moments? My eyes fill with tears as I type this. Yes, most mornings I participate in healthy self care such as prayer, Journaling, or mindfulness... but let’s be honest. If I choose to pick up this Fair-weather friend that follows me everywhere, I disappear. Those quiet peaceful moments disappear. I am not touching anyone. I am not gazing at someone I love and enjoying that feeling of togetherness and connection. This quiet house? Well it’s telling me it needs to be dusted and decorated. Those sleeping children? They need agendas signed and class party treats sent in and uniforms washed and clarinet reeds ordered. My husband may or may not be at work, but if he is did I reach out to him? And if he’s home, did I reach out to him? Oh wait- there goes my timer. Time to hop in the shower, put the bacon in the oven, get those boys up and moving. There goes my heart rate rising with each deadline and inbox item that crosses my mind. Oh, yes, I’m productive. I’m organized. Just ask all my friends and family. But is that the legacy I want to leave? ‘ She is so efficient. She can get it all done. Tears in my eyes again, geez. I would rather be known as Amy that helped me. Amy that loved me. Amy that made me feel important. Amy that I could count on. But most of all, Amy that I knew inside and out- between the lines and in the trenches. You see, getting it all done can be quite lonely. Have I been so busy getting it all done that I forgot to connect? Constantly looking at this lit up master that fits in my hand honestly makes me feel like crap. Yes- there are laughs and good reads hopefully like this one. There’s my longtime friend’s child or grandchild. The books and music and podcasts usually add instead of subtract. But all those red dots? I hate them. They steal little tiny pieces of me and I can’t really explain it. My children won’t know a world without the red dots, and that makes me sad. So here I am, on a rainy Wednesday morning, now voice-texting into this devilish device to create this message. I think it is a message for myself more than anything. Gosh these stupid tears. What is going on? I need to rewind. I need to go back. Back to the quiet simple peaceful mornings. I need to let go. I need to reach out even more than I need to let go. Who is with me? A fantastic human I call my friend gifted me with this poem this week. She didn't write it, but she knew I needed it. And now, I gift it to you. ☀️ safire-rose.com/books-and-media/poetry/she-let-go I see it every year. It starts around the first week of November and it lasts through the middle of January. The holiday blues. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve actually slowed down enough to think about trends in my practice. Sure there is an actual diagnosis of seasonal affective disorder, but this is different. This is deeper. This is hard. And here’s how I see it every day for two months straight in my exam rooms: Me: Hey Mrs. Jones - it is so good to see you. I know we had to zoom for our last visit. What’s new in your life? Are you ready for Christmas? Do you have to cook for Thanksgiving? Are y’all going anywhere? Mrs Jones: oh you know, I will be cooking for the family for Thanksgiving. And the children and the grandchildren may stop by for Christmas. No... I don’t go anywhere. I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. Anyway how are your boys? Are they ready for Christmas? Do you have to cook for Thanksgiving? Me: oh yes I will be making my Mammaw’s dressing, sweet potato casserole from an old Birmingham recipe from one of my mother’s friend’s mothers, my layered salad that a nurse I used to work with taught me how to make. Gosh that was over 25 years ago now. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. Daddy will fry the turkey and my husband will fix the ham and a peanut butter pie. Mama will make the deviled eggs and the Waldorf salad. I will make my mother-in-law‘s corn bean casserole and some homemade mashed potatoes. Of course we will have rolls and cranberry sauce. Another blank stare. I haven’t seen my mother-in-law in over five years. The boys? Oh yes, they are more than ready for Christmas. We got them a matchbox Advent calendar they can’t wait to get started on. They’re growing up so fast. Blank stare. Obvious reflection. The oldest will be home from the Air Force. He and his girlfriend will be together the whole time I’m sure. I smile. But I’m nearly in tears. What is going on? And we sit for a moment. Two women born of different decades and sometimes different skin colors who have lived two very different lives at the outsider’s glance, but are so alike on the inside that it’s haunting. Her daughter is sitting beside her. They look and act so much alike it makes me smile from the inside out. I’m sure that’s what people say when they see me with my mother. I don’t have a daughter. Will my boys take care of me? Alright, get it together Amy. We finish out our actual medical visit and say our go-to goodbyes: Happy Holidays. Y’all be safe. Call me if you need me. And now, after ALL these years, I often hear “you know I love you.” And I believe it’s true. It’s not forced. It’s been earned. Is it against the rules? No, not my rules it’s not. Truth be told, I love her too. Maybe because I see myself in her and I’m cheering for myself in my old age. I’m giving myself a head start and saving myself a seat. I’ve practiced in Kentucky and in Georgia. I worked in a nursing home for six years and then made rounds as a nurse practitioner in that very same nursing home. I’m an old soul myself so I think I draw my elderly patients in and they stick. I stick to them too, and I think they know it. I’ve had so many Mrs. Jones over my 17 years. I’ve had Mr. Jones and Little Johnny Jones or Little Sally Jones as well, but I am so connected to Mrs. Jones that I can almost finish her sentence. Now I’m driving home and this 2 Lane Highway surrounded by trees and cows and horses makes me feel like I could be in any of the four states I’ve lived. It’s familiar and so are these thoughts. I’m a little girl in my childhood home with my brother and my parents and we just came home from candlelight Christmas Eve service and mama made lasagna. I haven’t really been hurt yet. I don’t know what it feels like to love somebody besides my family. I feel safe and secure and like I can do anything in this world. How did Mrs. Jones feel at this age? How did you feel at 10 years old? Now I’m driving home from Tuscaloosa with Delta Zeta on my back windshield. My finals are over. I get to see my boyfriend. I’m taking pre-med classes as well as a full nursing load, but I’ve been hurt by now. I’ve been disappointed and lied to by some people I trusted. But it’s the holidays you see, and I still feel like I’ve got a handle on things. I wonder what Mrs. Jones was doing at 20 years old? Had you been hurt by then? Oh wow. I didn’t really see this coming. Or did I? I’m sitting alone in my first marital home. Half my furniture is gone. Someone I love deeply told me I don't really need a Christmas tree this year because "it's just you." Am I not enough for a tree? Who am I by myself anyway? I’m driving to Georgia for Christmas. I don’t think I’ve ever been this sad in my life. I wonder what Mrs. Jones was doing when she was 30 years old? Was her heart broken like mine? Was yours? Gather around now. It’s time to eat. My baby boy is four years old and can’t seem to stop smiling. God gave him to me for sure. The first one I carried is six and almost as smart as I am. The one I didn’t carry but I’ve fed and loved now for seven years is sitting right next to me. Is he thinking about his mama? Will he ever see her again? Tiny pieces of my heart crumble for him. I just started taking prednisone for an incurable autoimmune disease I had to look up on the Internet. Lord have mercy and I really do mean "please Lord have some mercy." I’m only about 3 1/2 weeks into a lifelong diagnosis and I don’t know what the future holds. I’m scared. I’m sad. Merry Christmas y’all. It’s the holidays, right? I wonder how old Mrs. Jones was when she first questioned her mortality? How old were you? Were you 40 years old like me with a child in pre-K, one in first grade, and one silently falling apart right in front of you? You see that’s what the holiday blues are. They are every heartbreak and broken promise. They are all the fears and all the lost relationships. They are that empty seat at the table. The phone that barely rings. They are the one that got away and the one that stayed too long. They are your mother, your father, and your children. They are every husband you’ve ever had. How can they not be? We can’t erase our memories. I don’t have a cure for the holiday blues. I think they’re part of life. Mrs. Jones might tell me they get better with each decade or she might tell me they grow and take up more space than we should allow. I’m scared to ask her. None of us even talk about it really. We just say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, y’all be safe. So this is my letter to you at age 45. Some heartaches of mine have healed and some are still there. I don’t think we should only remember the good times because that’s not what made us. It’s certainly not what made me today sitting right here baring my soul and giving you the permission to bare yours. Acknowledge the things that built you. Godspeed. This goes out to every Mrs. Jones that has ever allowed me to know her. She is me and I am her. And I thank God for that. Who knew a pen and paper ✍️ could save a life? I wasn’t actively suicidal. But I was having frequent daydreams of having a wreck that was “bad enough” to keep me in the hospital a few days, off work at least a month, and unable to help anyone else for a while. 😳 I wanted it to be a single-car accident and of course I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t looking forward to the injuries and was praying nothing would require surgery, but I couldn’t wait to have a respite from work, life, and motherhood. Does that sound crazy? Selfish? Or similar to thoughts you’ve had? Caregiver fatigue 😴 is a real thing, even if you’re paid to care for others. Motherhood fatigue 😴and lemme just say it, full-time step-motherhood 🤷🏼♀️ fatigue is a real thing even if you love your children 🚶♂️👬🏼 dearly. Today’s world 🌎 for women is exhausting:
Toss in a pandemic 😷 and virtual school 📚and BAM, all the therapists are booked! Fortunately, my mental "breakdown" was pre-pandemic. Thank the heavens I already had a therapist when my regular job got flipped upside down in March of 2020. My crazy started when I was in the throes of motherhood, working full-time and commuting with kids age 2, 4, and 12. I was crying regularly on my way home from work, wondering how I was going to get everything done and actually sleep too...😴 I’ve always had pen and paper near me, but I didn’t start regularly journaling ✍️ until I started feeling that OVERWHELM on a regular basis. I had so many thoughts racing through my head and I didn’t have a system to capture them. I was using a planner, but I might think of something while driving or in the shower and I would lose the idea 💡 or thought before I captured it. Some internet scrolling led me to David Allen’s Getting Things Done method. By this point I had played around with bullet journaling and list making (List Maker 4 Life right here now!), but again, I felt like my thoughts were fleeting and scattered. I will link the GTD method below, and I do think it's a good system, but that's not the point of this post. Once I started decluttering my mind from all the racing thoughts, then I had to face my actual thoughts. This was not a good look. I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed with abandon or woken up with a passion for life. I felt like I was on a treadmill with no way off. Someone was going to have to pull me off, and I didn't have the time or energy to ask anyone to pull me off. I never felt relaxed. I was in a constant state of fight or flight (or so it seemed). I was alive. But was I living? Enter the JOURNAL. ✍️ A journal can be so many things:
Happy + Happy = Happy I was listening to a podcast the other day, and the speaker said he thinks we are all happier when we make others happier. Agreed. Then he said we are all happier when we are around other happy people. Also agreed. I went along my merry way and was strolling through the aisles of Home Goods, aimlessly looking at mugs and throw pillows, and those 2 thoughts kept resonating with me. Making others happier and being around other happy people makes US happy. What does it mean to make others happy? I know for a fact I've made some people happy in my lifetime. And yes, that made me happy. But did I even know what I was doing? Was me being happy by making them happy even my agenda? Do people even think about that? Can a person be happy as "an island?" What about people who choose to remain single or just haven't found a life partner? Those who live in solitude? Are they doomed to a life of unhappiness? What about solopreneurs and those whose jobs involve them working alone? Does that mean they are unhappy? I used to have a sign that says "happiness is a decision made ahead of time." I had another one that said "some people pursue happiness while others create it." While I do think that "our input determines our output" and "we are what we eat" (both in terms of food and the digital content we consume), I just don't think it's that simple anymore. You see, I can wake up, set my intention for the day, stay as happy as I "want" to be and in the course of one single day I can have the following conversations:
And those are just work examples. What about life examples?
So, how do I continue to make others happy in the above situations? How do I maintain my positive outlook? Aren't there times when happy ISN'T the right answer or attitude and staying positive just feels WRONG? In some situations, making others happy devalues their pain and suffering which honestly makes them feel even more isolated and unhappy. I realize not everyone has a job in the healing field, the medical field, or with the public. But we are all HUMAN. Almost all of us have friends, coworkers, neighbors, church members, family members, SOMEONE at some point in each day that is going to confide in us and lean on us. Do we lean in and choose to be a present fencepost or lighthouse for those that need us or do we back off all in the name of HAPPINESS and choosing joy? Can we even enjoy the good things without seeing the bad? I don't think we can.
I am REALLY starting to pay attention to my body when I meet new people. I don't always count them out if my first impression is less than stellar, but I do remember it. I take note so that I'm not surprised down the road.
And here's another disclaimer to Mr. Podcast's 2nd claim. Sally may make me feel good but I can't ever see her because our schedules are opposite and she's not good at reaching out. She struggles with depression and anxiety, so I have to let her reach out when she has the emotional space to do so. Bobby may make me feel like crap, but he's my brother and I love him, so then what? Susie might put me on edge every day, but she's my boss and I spend several hours a week with her. So yeah, Mr. Podcast, I like your ideas and they sound great, but then there's life. And after living and working and being in a few families now, I know that we can't always choose who we are around. And maybe that's why I stopped putting my 2 happiness signs out. I realized that I can keep a positive mindset and try to limit the time I spend with people who either make me feel bad or suck the life out of me, BUT... I also realized it takes the bad to see the good. It takes the ugly to see the beautiful. It takes all those things my patients tell me every day- that are really happening to people I care about- to make me slow down, sip my coffee, exhale at that stoplight, glance at my kiddos in the rearview, pump up the volume, and sing at the top of my lungs with my sunroof open. It takes being knocked down, run over, and slowly picking yourself up to smile at the exploring, coy toddler vying for your attention at your son's ball game. It takes losing something you love to look at a tree that's been standing outside your window for years and silently thank it for never leaving you. It takes holding someone you love while they shake in fear or agony to appreciate each and every piece of laundry you fold for the 400th time. The mundane is where the magic is... the daily can be the delight. Today, I choose to live... pretty, ugly, hard, easy, funny, scary, joyful, and unthinkable. Happiness will work itself out. She will make her appearance. And I will nod in recognition each time she does. To read some of my friends' thoughts on happiness, please click below and support their work. We all belong to a writer's group and I have learned and grown from each of these special women's work and words.
Chasing Happiness By Sharla Hallett www.sharlahallett.com/chasing-happiness/ Finding True Happiness and Keeping It By Lisa Granger https://lisamarcelina.net/finding-true-happiness-and-keeping-it/ Mom Burnout and How to Be Happy By Ashley Olivine https://www.ashleyolivine.com/mom-burnout/ 3 Days By MelAnn https://graceandrapture.substack.com/p/3-days Seeing Happiness Right in Your Life By Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2021/10/01/seeing-happiness-right-in-your-life/ The Summer of Happiness Recap of Summer 2021 By Jessica Haberman https://storytellerfarm.com/the-summer-of-happiness-recap-of-summer-2021/ Have you ever woken up feeling icky? Or perhaps you felt great, but a certain conversation, text message, social media post, or group of thoughts evaded your mind and body and the icky took over? How do you know you're feeling icky? For some people it is a very physical response in the body:
For others, it is a very mental or emotional response in the mind. These might be thoughts associated with your icky:
So, now that I have been in regular therapy for almost 2 years, I asked my therapist about feeling icky: Me: what do I do when I'm feeling icky? Therapist: describe icky- what does icky mean to you? Me: I describe the first scenario since my icky comes out more physically than mentally Therapist: okay, then we have to focus on your body and reclaiming your body in that moment. If the adrenaline and cortisol have already dumped into your bloodstream from a fight or flight response to a "threat" you have received, then we try to calm that trauma response. Me: but does it matter what triggered it? what if I don't know what triggered it? don't I have to fix what is wrong in my life or situation to fix my icky? Therapist: Nope. And that's the beautiful thing. What caused it doesn't matter. I don't even care what caused it. We just need to reclaim your body at that moment. So, that changed my life. I repeat. THAT CHANGED MY LIFE. And I believe it can change yours too! See below for some helpful links on how to reclaim your body from a state of panic or unrest. Turns out, we CAN'T fix it with our thoughts. We literally have to MOVE our bodies out of it. What a relief! No wonder my brain is so tried from all these years of over-analyzing and overthinking, ruminating, and self-loathing. I wasn't even on the right road getting this *%#@ trauma out of my body! But now I am, and you can be too. Find a trauma-informed or trauma-certified therapist. Your life will change forever.
My husband and I have been on opposite shifts for 5 years. Has it been fun or easy? No and no. Has a tiny part of me enjoyed hogging the remote or eating popcorn for dinner on the rare evening when kids are gone? Yes for sure! It does take effort to stay connected when you may go 48 hours without seeing each other, and I have learned a few tricks that have worked for us. 8 tips to stay connected despite working opposite shifts:
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