google-site-verification=ZTYg11mvIYHNbEU2g5SxL9_QHKENf5J6gzQJmMAjvss
On a recent poll with my readers, the results were not surprising:
The poll was not anonymous, and I know many of my readers. Several of the "way too much" respondents are married, have children, have jobs, are surrounded by people all the time, and YET... they feel alone. I can relate. Loneliness is harmful to your health. But how do we fix it? We've never been more "connected" in our lives? Or have we? I have found 10 ways to feel more connected in a digital world. These are not from some article or YouTube video. These are just what has worked for ME. I hope they work for you too:
I love interacting with my readers. For more of an inside look into my days, you can follow me on TikTok, Instagram, or Facebook. Please support my other hope*writers by reading their works based on the prompt word LONELY: Is God Lonely for You? By Sharla Hallett https://sharlahallett.com/is-god-lonely-for-you/ Loved vs. Lonely by Lisa Crowder https://lisacrowder.substack.com/p/5c456855-76dc-499f-90cd-6ffef071a3d3 Simple Is Better Lent - When Lonely is OK by Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2023/03/01/simple-is-better-lent-when-lonely-is-ok/ Open Letter to the Lonely Mom by Ashley Olivine https://www.ashleyolivine.com/lonely-mom/ Breaking the Stigma: Understanding and Talking About Loneliness by MelAnn https://lifesouvenirs.net/p/breaking-the-stigma
0 Comments
Rise and SHINE. Come rain or come SHINE. He took a SHINE to her. It's her GLOW UP. Bright, light, shimmery, polished. I don't know about you, but I am over all the SHINE. I want real. I want real conversations with real friends in real houses with real food. I want a real marriage with real connection and real love. I'm done with transactional. I want relational. I want physical touch and heart to heart dialogue. I don't want to talk about the weather or local gossip. I want to know what lights you up inside. What keeps you awake at night. I have been backwards and forwards, inside and outside the past few years. I think we all have with what the pandemic did to us. I don't want lip service. I want the truth. I will take that hard conversation over that placation any day. Is this shift in my mindset from midlife or from trauma or from growth? Am I bitter or intentional? Jaded or focused? I want to laugh too! I want to have fun! I want books and game nights and couch cuddles by the fire. I want to stay connected on social media and enrich my world with the vast resources available without feeling like dirt. Is it possible? Can I get on the Gram and laugh at the TikToks while still honoring my self-worth? I'm working on it. And what makes me so special to want all this? Or is this the way it was at one time before the SHINE? Does anyone even know? Even my elderly patients fall victim to hours on Facebook and subsequent feelings of loneliness and inadequacy. SHINE can be reserved for sports medals and awards shows, fancy nights out, and holiday decor. It has its place. It should be special and not everyday. Present over perfect. Real over fabulous. True over attractive. That's where you'll find me. Please support my fellow hope*writers by reading their work based on the prompt word SHINE.
It’s your time to shine! By Sharla Hallett www.sharlahallett.com/its-your-time-to-shine/ How To Overcome Adversity & Shine by Ashley Olivine https://ashleyolivine.com/overcome-adversity/ Shining Brightly in a Dark World by Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/wp-admin/shining-brightly-in-a-dark-world/ Make this Advent Shine by Jessica Weaver http://rootedunrooted.com/blog/make-this-advent-shine The whir of the wall heater lulls me to sleep. I’m in seventh grade again, at my friend’s house, dreaming of my life as an adult. We just watched Dirty Dancing and inhaled a bag of Doritos with a 2L of Dr Pepper and no one considered the carbohydrates involved. In reality, I am an adult. With children. And two husbands by now. And a whole lot of disappointments and triumphs along the way. I still feel like that awkward seventh grader when, I’m actually the mother of a seventh grader. How did this happen? I’m typing this in a cottage in the woods. A writer’s weekend, that’s what I claimed it to be. And in late 2022, I am stuck trying to decide how much of my life to share on social media and how many posts are “enough” to promote my writing. The internet connection is poor here and it’s a blessing and a curse. When did we become so tied to people we’ve never met and numbers oft generated by bots? Do I measure the importance of my work by likes, shares, and follows or by actual lives impacted? And let’s be honest, we rarely know when we impact a life because the Enneagram and Myers-Briggs tells us that a certain % of folks are introverts and would never tell us if we helped them, to no fault of our own. And the trauma we have all endured. I am not joking. The real actual trauma and pain I have seen my fellow GenXers and patients and friends endure. We all go to therapy and spend countless hours trying to right some of the wrongs between scrolling and TikToking, working our regular jobs, raising tiny to full-sized humans, and trying to eat whole foods. In this world of 2-4 second attention spans, I feel lost. I feel lonely. I feel drained. Am I the only one? And so I sit. In Midlife. In the Southeast. In middle school bleachers and while planning a wedding for the oldest. I sit at baseball tournaments and in my car traveling to see my patients. I sit at kitchen tables discussing hospice the same morning I sit with my fifth grader studying vocabulary. I know I’m not alone. The Middle is weird. It’s not the beginning, like I am reminded of with my oldest and his fiancé. The furniture shopping and the bedspread and dishes selections. It’s not the end either. The disbursement of family heirlooms and quiet days sparsely populated by visiting friends or family. It’s not the days of toddler-parent-survival where bath time and nap time ruled the schedule. But it’s not the days where everyone can drive yet either. And oh yeah a pandemic happened. School shootings. A nation so divided I can’t even recognize it. But just keep on going folks. Keep on posting and hashtagging and hustling. Meh. I will take this Middle. I will take the Menopause and the investment planning and the figuring out how to parent adult children. I will take it and try to learn from it and admit that it’s uncomfortable. See, we are too old to fake stuff in this Middle. We have seen too much. I think my writing will continue to be what it is. Real. Raw. With a flimsy filter and a side of sarcasm. It will grow as I do. I hope you join me. If anything in this little diary entry stirred your insides, then know that we are in this together. Let’s go. Awkward but not alone. If you have a pet of any kind, you know the joy that pets bring into our lives. While they do come with a certain level of commitment and work, they offer benefits that far outweigh what they require of us. Now that I am six years into my primary chronic illness, sarcoidosis, I feel like I can discuss pet therapy with conviction. Prior to becoming "sick," I always had a pet - from childhood on. It wasn't really until I became ill, however, that I realized what my dogs had done for my mental health. My physical health has also improved thanks to being a pet-owner. Here are 10 ways owning a pet can help you with your chronic illness:
Charlie the Dachshund is always there for me. He will wait on me wherever I go and follow me no matter what. He needs my help to get his food, water, and to let him outside. It feels good to be needed by someone or something that doesn't really expect much in return, ESPECIALLY with a chronic illness. I can be sick, tired, or both in front of him and not feel self-conscious. I can tell him all my thoughts and fears, and he won't judge me. I can even moan out loud in pain or cry at my medical misfortune and he doesn't flinch. Instead, he meets me with loving kindness and is a steady force of calm in my daily life. Have you ever been picked last for a team or a project? Have you ever been sitting at the END of a table and no one really acknowledged your presence during the lively, laugh-out-loud dinner that everyone else seemed to be having? Have you ever been cut off during a conversation when someone "cooler or prettier or funnier or more magnetic" stepped into the mix? What if you vote a certain way but you're surrounded by others who vote differently? You want them to love you for you, but are you having to hide part of yourself in order to belong? What if you have a different opinion but keep it to yourself in fear of others' reactions? What if you don't even feel like you belong in your own home? Isn't home supposed to be your safe space?
So, again, I think we have all experienced this feeling. Disconnected. Cast out. Overlooked. Unwanted. Unnecessary. Unimportant. Small. Invisible. Rejected. Source: Brene Brown's Atlas of the Heart Since we all know we can't control the thoughts or actions of others, let's focus on what WE can do the next time we feel this way. Here are 10 ways you can (and I do these myself) try to reach the feeling of BELONGING again:
Now let us review. Somebody somewhere made you feel left out, unwanted, or overlooked. You start to list all the reasons you are just that: unwanted and overlooked. Then you REMEMBER these tips to get back to belonging and you pull at least one of them out. Consider it a secret weapon. Use it. Allow yourself to feel both ways - both the ickiness of unbelonging and the comfort of true connection once you have found your way back. Teach someone else you love how to do this the next time they call you searching for validation. And hey. Just so you know, I would pick you. Godspeed. How are you? Good, how are you? Fine, today was busy. Yeah, me too. Ready for some downtime. Did you go by the drugstore? I did (even though he could have). Did you run the dishwasher? I did (even though she could have). What's going on this weekend? A Saturday-Sunday tournament and I really need to get some of my charts done. (He didn't ask if I wanted to do anything as a couple. I guess he doesn't care). (She is always working- she never even mentioned anything I might want or need). Okay- sounds good. Sound familiar? We both have needs, but we are not making them known. We both have resentment, but we speak like polite coworkers. The conversations are transactional and not RELATIONAL. We are co-parenting and room-mating - but where is the love? Unfortunately, as the years passed and the kids got older, we seemed to have fewer transactional conversations. Homework wasn't AS MUCH of a chore. Snacks were often handled by the kids independently. Routines were established and roles were pretty defined (though unspoken) in the home. In ways, this meant less bickering and smoother mornings and evenings, but were we connected? OR were we just 2 lonely adults passing in the hallway - each longing for a real connection but not knowing where to start? We have both been married before, so we both know the pain of divorce. We vowed to make this marriage work, but was it working? Was it tolerable or was it phenomenal? I have been going to THE BEST counselor on the planet for about 18 months now, and I asked her for a few suggestions. Regardless of each person's love language, she made clear that time and non-sexual touch are both very necessary for meaningful connection. Since I work days and my husband works nights, we don't have a TON of time together - and very rarely is it without children. We both commute so that takes away even more of our precious time. The kids are busy year-round it seems, so where was I supposed to carve out both TIME and TOUCH? I decided that we needed ONE HOUR per day to talk, sit close to each other, and just be together. I named it the POWER HOUR and I told the kids this was Mom and Dad's time together and it should not be interrupted unless there is an emergency. They heard "screen time" and were all for it. I decided kids' screen time is worth the investment in our marriage. I claimed 7-8 pm to be our ONE HOUR per day to sit on the couch together - touching!- to watch TV, chat, whatever. I am not gonna lie, 9 times out of 10 my feet and legs are in his lap and he's using my massage gun on my calves while I scratch his non-massage-gun-holding arm and hand. He likes scratches, I like massages. The point is, though, that we are touching and there is no pressure surrounding the touch. All adults everywhere know what I mean by that. He has to leave for work by 8 pm, so once he leaves I call the kids back into the living room and we finish out our family time before bed. If he's off that night then we may continue past 8 pm. The rules are simple: he needs to be showered and ready for work by 7 not 8 so I can have that hour with him. I need to ignore work and personal messages during that precious hour so that I can give him my undivided attention. Sometimes there is a late practice or rehearsal and our POWER HOUR is skipped or delayed, but it is a daily priority now. We both look forward to that time together, and the kids are still alive. It is so much easier to hash out a BIG issue when you are sitting next to your spouse touching them instead of over the phone or (worse) text. If you are both relaxed and physically touching each other, it is harder to become defensive or to go into attack mode. A quick squeeze of the arm or hand can reassure your partner that you are, in fact, on the same team. Close eye contact can remind your spouse that you love them and that you each have the same end goals. You may read this and be thanking the heavens that you've never felt disconnected from your spouse. Having worked with married patients for years, I would venture to guess you'd be in the minority. I know most of us have felt like our marriages have become mundane or on auto-pilot at various times. It doesn't necessarily take a marriage retreat or some crazy new "trick" to get your marriage back on track. For us, it just took a shared couch, one hour per day, and our hands. It took putting the phone down. It took managing our time to preserve that one hour per day. It took biting our tongues when we wanted to be snappy and waiting until we were together to have that hard conversation.
My life isn't perfect nor is my marriage. My house isn't perfect. My kids are not perfect. I am far from perfect. But, I am trying. He is trying. We are trying. Effort is attractive and kindness matters. Godspeed. Dear God, show me the way I am on this road Lord Do I exit or do I stay? I was once a little girl Learning the Apostle's Creed and the Lord’s Prayer Now I am a grown woman And I have seen far too much despair I have healed some I have broken some Bodies and hearts and souls And as I travel down this road Lord I reach desperately for your hand to hold There are nights I feel so lonely I know you are there but I can’t find you There is an emptiness that can control me I try to fight it but it obscures you There is beauty in the absence Sometimes I see it and sometimes I feel it A tree that has shed its leaves A body beyond Earth's healing A notebook blank and waiting for a pen A shared glance between strangers where love will soon begin A happy baby waiting for his first tooth A hopeful high school senior full of ambition and youth My Mammaw’s vase waiting for its perfect bouquet My middle schooler’s energy as he starts every single day Do I notice the widow alone on the bench? Do I dwell on her grief - Do I absorb her heart-wrench? Or do I peek in the bird’s nest that comes every spring? And await its perfect eggs Soon baby birds with tiny wings There is beauty in the absence God For even sorrow and loss is proof of love I will travel the road you paved for me Gently nudge me in those quiet corners Lord Help me remember I am enough Amen. Shame. Such an icky topic and feeling. I am not a licensed therapist. I am still trying to figure all of this out myself, but I am learning and I am working to diligently avoid shaming words being said by any member of my household (including myself). THIS IS HARD WORK. 😩 When I see myself, my spouse, or my children slipping into a shame spiral, I try to acknowledge it and stop it if possible. This is treacherous, however. The danger in stopping a shame spiral is the risk of entering into toxic positivity. Toxic positivity can equally invalidate and minimize a person's feelings. One can go from "I am not good enough" to "I am not good enough to have this emotion right now." One can go from being told "you worry too much, you are such a worry wart" to "don't worry, everything is always going to work out." Neither instance feels good. Has a friend or loved one ever told you what you should have done and how you should have responded? How did that feel? Even better, have YOU ever told a friend or loved one what they should have done or how they should have responded? That mirror comes up quickly. The Shame Spiral can start immediately or hours, days, weeks after the "injury." It can last a lifetime. My therapist just asked me if I had ever heard the story about the father and son and the nails on the fence post. I had not. I tried to find the original author and the original full story, but I could not find it. Please let me know if you do. The quick version is that the father gave the son some nails to nail into the fence post. The boy did and came back to his dad. The dad said "good job son, now go take them all out." The boy wondered what in the world his father was thinking but he did as he was told. Upon his return, the boy asked "okay, I took them all out, but why did you have me do that Dad?". The father replied "Son, those nails are like words. You can say them and you can try to take them back, but the holes will always remain." Credit to MaryAnn Denwood @ The People's Therapist and Richard Bamford Therapy for the above images. Credit to Michigan Health Blog and ThePsychologyGroup.com for the above images. I could not locate the exact source from these SlideShare images, but I found them to be extremely valuable. When I began my own work with my own shame, it felt bad of course. I wondered why I "felt so bad" when "I don't think I really did anything wrong." And I don't mean I've never lied or disappointed someone or made a poor choice. OF COURSE I have done all of those things. I meant that sometimes I feel like I'm doing good things, kind things, making smart choices, and I still feel SHAME. Why in the world am I feeling shame when I "act right" and make kind, intentional choices? I quickly learned that we can be just as shamed for doing GOOD as we can for doing BAD. (Excuse all grammar rules here - just go with me). I can be a good girl and be shamed for it. I can be the best in the room (at a sport, in a class, on a project, or at work) and be shamed for it. Am I crazy and causing myself all this shame or do other children and adults actually shame us when we excel? The truth is BOTH. We receive messaging from infancy to the grave that shape our responses. These messages come from our loved ones and from strangers. Today, they often come from avatars on a screen in the devilish device in our hands. The messages come from television and advertisements. They even come from our beloved children. Are other people TRYING to shame us? Probably not. But they may be full of shame themselves, so it's a language in which they are fluent. OR, they don't know how to handle their own emotions and we are the nearest punching bag. It's all complicated. It is layered. It is old and it is new. None of it feels good. As part of my own shame work, I was asked to draw my own shame creature. I think this is an excellent exercise for anyone. I included the most shaming statements I have received from strangers and well-meaning loved ones. So here I am, undressing on the internet and showing you my boo-boos. It is scary to be this vulnerable, but I want to do and feel better. I don't want to push the shame button of anyone I love, especially the sweet souls fast asleep under my own roof right now as I type this. So here goes.
I have been trying to name what Christmas does to me. What is it that I am feeling? Is it joy? Sadness? Grief? Regret? Yearning? Excitement? Happiness? Disappointment? Fear? Melancholy? I thought you might be feeling this way too. Are you? Aren't we all? So I decided to write all of us a letter. To the little boy who wanted the new bike but didn't get it, it is okay to cry. To the elderly grandmother who fears losing her mental faculties, it is okay to be scared. To anyone anywhere with that empty seat at the table, I see you. Whether it is Year One or Year Twenty without him, without her, without them, it still hurts. Don't swallow it, my friend. Don't shove it down. Allow its entrance and its exit. To the wife who notices her husband doesn't look at her as much as he once did, it is okay to feel unnoticed. I wonder if he feels noticed by you? To the dad who just wants everyone to get along (and they don't), go ahead and feel your frustration. You can't fix it (as badly as you want it fixed), so just sit in it. It will pass. To the one that got away, I think you got away for a reason. I don't know what it is, but I think I believe that? I'm allowed to think about it though. I'm tired of being told what I should or shouldn't think about, aren't you? To the sister who sees brother steal every show it seems, take that jealousy wave and ride it. Get it as big as you can until it slowly softens and washes away. To the husband who wishes his wife would touch him more, feel that hurt. Allow yourself to feel it and then ask yourself what she may be feeling right now. To the single mom drowning in debt, it is okay to feel anxious, scared, angry, sad. This isn't what you dreamed of - and it is OKAY to have feelings about that. To anyone spending this day alone (or feeling as if they are alone), it is awful. I have been single without kids, and I did not enjoy it. Be sad if you need to be sad. Feel the yearning for a family or relationship if you have it. When we deny ourselves and our feelings, we will never walk in our truth or our light. To the sweet little girl who loves all things Christmas and Santa and baby Jesus and twinkling lights and hot cocoa, please don't disappear. I still need you. We still need you. Your children need you. Your aging mom and dad still need you. YOU still need yourself. Please don't let go of that wonder. Please try to remember the warmth under the heaviness of reality, sweet girl. Please find that sparkle in your tired eyes and FEEL the delight of this day and the upcoming days. You know so much now, dear girl. You've seen too much now, my old friend. But you are still here. The you that is typing this or reading this - that has had lots of Christmas Eves by now... and the you that is only on her fourth Christmas Eve, staring at the tree, dreaming of Santa and his reindeer, warm in footed pajamas, holding her blankie, surrounded by her family, not a worry in the world. Hold on baby girl. We all need you right now. Remind us of that Peace. Joy. Contentment. Excitement. HOPE. I may not know what or who to believe anymore, but I do believe in YOU. Merry Christmas friends.
From me to you. Godspeed. 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 How on earth is it already time for 2022? Where did 2021 go? I'm not sure, BUT, I am ready for 2022. 2021 was messy and ugly in many ways. On a personal level, it was unkind to my health. I received a new diagnosis of psoriasis in March and had to miss an entire month of work while my body was adjusting to new medications and my skin was trying to heal. October revealed an unexpected opportunistic infection (since I'm immunocompromised) that required strong antibiotics and made me feel pretty lousy. Since November 1, I have been hobbling around on painful swollen knees and am facing unexpected knee surgery. Pity party? Nah, not my style. Swallowing it all? That's my go-to. When I think about my health and how unfair it is that I've tried to take care of my body my whole life and I'm still getting the short end of the health stick, I can get pretty low. Then I think of all my patients who have it "worse." And I swallow it. I shove it down. I brush it off. But is that healthy? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. So I'm learning to acknowledge my own feelings. I'm sad that my body is not behaving. I'm angry in some ways. I'm frustrated for sure. I'm still thankful that I can work for right now. I am beyond grateful for my parents who live 2 doors down and help me daily. I'm tired. I'm realizing I have X amount of energy each day and my family needs the bulk of it. If my job takes most of it then I'm robbing my family of my best self. Filing for disability has been on my mind more in the past 9 months than it ever has during this 5 year sarcoidosis journey. So what next? New year, new adventures, new planner, new goals, new.... what else is new now that I'm 45? I have a lot of old. Old hurts. Old unmet needs. Old furniture. Old clothes. Old shame. Old junk in my kitchen drawers. Old relationship issues that deserve a conversation. An old van that has chipping paint but it's paid for and gets us to ball tournaments. I think the reflex for all of us is to replace the old with the new and that will make it all better. New clothes. The newest kitchen gadget. New furniture or decor, ON TREND, my dear! A shiny new SUV that costs more than most people's annual salary and gets 12 mpg. But boy does it look good and that's what counts, right? I'm no longer trying to replace the old just by reflex. It's harder to keep it and try to keep it running. Purging the clothes and kids' toys is definitely good, but when we throw out things that still work but aren't "good enough" for whatever standards, what does that say about us? Who and what have you thrown away and replaced with newer and easier? (ouch)... I'm falling apart health-wise in a lot of ways, but I "still work." Will my family or employer throw me out? Will my friends forget about me if I'm not as active and fun as I used to be? Where does that leave me? As an Enneagram 3 (Performer, Success Driven), I've been gut-punched this year by my body's betrayal. But God must be telling me something. I know He has a plan. I have to trust and slow down and just be. NOT. MY. STRONG. SUIT. Perhaps 2021 leaves you feeling like I do. Maybe you lost someone you loved. Maybe you were also betrayed by either your body or someone you trusted. Maybe you felt out of control all year like I did? Maybe you spent too many hours googling vaccines and viruses and death tolls like most of the world. Maybe you feel all the "junk" you've shoved down and swallowed for however long starting to surface and want to be named and noticed. I feel that with you. 2022 can be a renewal for us, my friends. I'm going to intentionally name what's working, what's not working, what is worth repair, and what really needs to be purged from my life. This goes for relationships, time spent, health choices, what I consume digitally and physically, items in my home and closet, and my thought life. I'm going to check myself when I just want to replace the old for that quick dopamine hit. I'm going to try to sit in the uncomfortable and define what's causing it. I can't keep running 90 mph. 2022 is for slowing down. It is for evaluation. It is for growing up, finally. Godspeed. Motherhood. It sounds official, important, and majestic. And IT IS. BUT - motherhood - being a MOTHER - is a constant, daily, exhausting, never-ending, rollercoaster of a job that has zero degrees or certifications as preparation and the measuring stick seems to move daily. Who is measuring? My boys? The world? My husband? Social media? The boys' future therapists? ME? Let all that soak in for a few moments and then we will dig into this crazy ride called motherhood. Being a mother is definitely my greatest JOY in life. I have wanted to be a mom since I was a very young girl setting up mock classrooms in my garage for neighborhood children (#truestory) and naming my children in big bubble letters in my third-grade spiral notebook. I babysat my entire neighborhood it seemed, and I was going to be a mom as soon as I got married and worked 2 years as a nurse. I would be 24 and my life would be perfect. Then life happened. For lots of reasons, and over many years, I thought motherhood was not in the cards for me. I was devastated. I wasn't sure what life would be without ME being a mom. I was destined to be a mother, right? That was the PLAN. I live by and stick to the PLAN. Fast-forward to age 34 and my first baby boy was born screaming, dreaming, and wild, and he hasn't stopped any of those yet! His 8 year old brother was waiting on him in the waiting room bursting with excitement. 2 years later, God gave me the sweetest, big-hearted, most mellow fellow in the universe and God's plans for me and my motherhood journey were complete. All those nights I looked to the starlit heavens with tears in my eyes wondering when it would be my turn ended. All those Happy Mother's Day cards and texts I sent out with awkward responses like "um, thank you- hope you have a good day too" were over. Some women may say motherhood doesn't define them or isn't their purpose. I do love other things. I enjoy hobbies and my career and a good live band or a breeze on a boat. I will sit on any cabin deck in the mountains and drink any cup of coffee if it's made right. But being a mother is and will always be my MOST IMPORTANT JOB. And every time I look at my green-eyed boy with the world's longest eyelashes acting on stage, or admire the kind, responsible young man my step-son has become, or listen to my big-blue-eyed baby boy tell me how he wants to help someone in need, the world drifts away. Nothing else matters. If I had never made a proper diagnosis, helped someone who was in pain, or received any trophy, plaque, or ribbon for my efforts, I would be just fine. My real work is being done every single day and will continue until I leave this Earth. Those 3 boys are my purpose in life. Thank you, Jesus, for answering my prayers in Your way on Your time. HERE ARE 14 LESSONS I LEARNED IN MY FIRST DECADE OF MOTHERHOOD. I'M NOW IN MY SECOND DECADE, BUT I'VE HAD MOST OF THESE DOWN FOR A LITTLE WHILE NOW.
I think each of these lessons deserves a little more detail. I really had no trouble thinking of these, since they have honestly been LESSONS LEARNED. These are all things I literally did not know until I knew. And what you don't know, well... it's just better that you know these. 🤷♀️
My own mother told me many years ago that motherhood would be both the hardest and the MOST IMPORTANT job I would ever have. She has never been a step-mother. She has never been through a divorce and tried to navigate a second marriage with a man who was also navigating a second marriage. She has what some might call a wonderful, life-long, high-school-sweetheart partnership that is still going strong over 50 years later. She had 2 smart kids who were active in sports and music and for the most part well-behaved. She wasn't working as a nurse practitioner bringing work home every night, and she wasn't commuting over 8 hours every week. And she still said it was the hardest. And the most important. Odds are that I don't know you. I don't know how many people live in your house or what kind of childhood you had. I don't know how many times you've been hurt or who exactly caused your pain. I don't know how demanding your job is or if you even work outside the home. I don't know if you struggled to get pregnant or if you have more children than you ever intended. Your family may be blended or straight out of Southern Living. It doesn't matter. If you're reading this, you are most likely a parent, probably a female, and if I were a betting woman, I would bet you are exhausted. You are overwhelmed. You are lonely. You are bored if we are being 100% honest. You are under-appreciated and overworked. And you wanted to know you're not alone. I declare from my Georgia basement with my ice-pack on my already-arthritic knee, you are NOT alone. I am with you. My own mama with her cookie cutter textbook family was with you and is still with you. This is hard work. And it's WORTH IT. I hope this article brought you some comfort, whimsy, new ideas, or peace. Just remember wherever you are, I am with you. I'm only halfway to 18 on my youngest, so we can hang out for quite a while yet. 🤪 Godspeed. Please help support my fellow hope*writers' work by reading their posts using the prompt word "fourteen"... :
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: 14 Things I Love About the Holidays by Jessica Weaver www.rootedunrooted.com/blog/the-most-wonderful-time-of-the-year 14 Truths about Love by Sharla Hallett www.sharlahallett.com/14-truths-about-love/ Fourteen Adjectives to Cultivate in Kids by Jessica Haberman https://storytellerfarm.com/fourteen-adjectives-to-cultivate-in-kids/ 14 Parenting Tips to Raise Strong, Independent Kids by Ashley Olivine https://louvaria.com/14-parenting-tips/ 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. A popular book in the field of marriage and relationships is Gary Chapman's The Five Love Languages. In his book, Dr. Chapman discusses the five core languages used to give and receive love. Knowing your love language and that of your partner is quite beneficial as you navigate various scenarios and frustrations throughout your relationship. I will link the quiz below. The 5 Love Languages according to Dr. Chapman are:
Originally written in 2004, the book has now sold over 6 million copies. I read it when it was originally released, and I read it again when I remarried. I knew the importance of speaking the same love language (or at least being aware of my partner's love language) . I think it is helpful to know your close friends' love language and the language of your children or other close family members. If you are not familiar with the concept, I will use this brief example: Amy (acts of service, physical touch): " I am so tired. Ugghh I have so much to do. I don't know how I'm going to get it all done." Husband thinking to himself (words of affirmation, quality time): Amy is so tired. She should go to bed. Maybe if I keep encouraging her to go to bed, she will. Amy thinking to herself: If he would fold this laundry, then maybe I could go to bed. But instead he's just telling me I should go to bed. Husband thinking to himself: Why is she folding that laundry when she is so tired? If I offer to fold the laundry, she may lash out at me since she's so tired, and (needing words of affirmation) that would ruin the night, so I will just stay with her (quality time) and gently encourage her to go to bed. Amy fuming at this point (acts of service, physical touch): If he's not going to fold the laundry, he could at least rub my back. Then maybe I could relax enough to go to bed. But husband doesn't rub my back because he wants the words of affirmation and reassurance to do so and the spiral continues. Neither spouse did anything WRONG, but remembering each other's love language might have made for a much more pleasant evening. Pleasant evenings bleed into smooth mornings and so forth. This example is just one of many. It can apply to family, friends, coworkers. You may be trying to show appreciation with a gift or money but they WANT / NEED to hear you say why you appreciate them. They may be doing all the little chores and acts of service to get your attention, but you WANT / NEED them to stop running around and spend the afternoon with you without any distractions. It really is fascinating once you know the love language of your partner or best friends. You can spend an entire afternoon dissecting why one situation went south based on love language miscommunication alone. But back to PHYSICAL TOUCH, I think this love language is often overlooked and misunderstood. For obvious reasons, it's viewed with caution, and while that is good... it is also robbing us of a basic human need. With the surge of technology and virtual everything, many of us go days or weeks without touching another human, particularly these last 2 years. Throughout my career, I have used touch as a means to reassure and connect with my patients. Since I received touch as a child and infant in a safe, healthy environment, I have been able to give touch easily. I know that is not true for everyone I encounter, and I acknowledge that. Here are some ways I have used touch in my practice:
Here are some ways I have used touch in my home with my children:
My challenge to you, wherever you are, however old you are, whatever childhood you had, whatever love language you prefer, however many times you've been hurt, is to THINK about physical touch in the setting of a newborn baby. I have linked an article below touting the science behind touch and neurological growth and development. If you're old enough to find this article, then you have been a child yourself. You may have children or be involved in a child's life. We all know that a crying baby or toddler is often soothed by the touch of a loved one or caregiver. Animals are the same way. I dare say, adults are ALSO the same way. If you love someone (your child, your partner, your mother, your close friend), touch them. HUG them. Incorporate safe and healthy touch into your daily routine. We have grown generations of adults now who are not used to being touched. Those untouched adults are now having more untouched children. Those untouched children are looking for affection in ways that a simple "cuddle session" (what we call it at our house) may have averted. It saddens me when I shake a teenager's limp and nervous hand or attempt an appropriate side-hug with someone and am greeted with surfboard-stiff awkwardness. I see the physical and emotional effects of the untouched in my office each week, and it breaks my heart. Pat Harris was my first grade teacher. She had a Hug-Me-Spot right by the door to her classroom. No student could enter her room in the morning or leave her room in the afternoon without hugging Miss Harris on the Hug-Me-Spot. This world needs a Hug-Me-Spot. This world needs an army of Miss Harrises. The rules and restrictions have created a generation of kids that don't know what touch is actually appropriate, and adults that are too glued to their phones to use their hands to rub their child's back or snuggle on the couch. These touch-starved kids marry each other and are LONELY and starving for affection that was never modeled for them. And here we are. I challenge you to touch someone today. And tomorrow. And the next day. Hug. Cuddle. Kiss your partner. Squeeze your child. Hold hands. Make touch a part of your day every day. We may really change the world. 🌎 Let's try it. ☀️ Godspeed. Hey, I know you. I share a bed, a remote, and a living room with you. I ride in the front seat with you. I talk to you numerous times a day about kids and groceries and logistics. I know how you take your coffee and what you like on your pizza. But, do I know you right now, at this very moment, 12 years in, more or less than I did say 10 years ago? BEFORE our conversations revolved around schedules and pickups and homework. I know I have changed in the last 12 years. Surely you have as well? Have I asked? Have I noticed? Have you seen the changes in me? Have you noticed? Are we giving each other what we need? (my therapist is ALWAYS in my ear- "tell them what you NEED Amy! tell that person what you NEED.") Every year we try to take a trip sans kiddos to regroup, reconnect, unplug, and just have fun together. It is a WORTHY investment (time and money) in a marriage or relationship. Parenting is hard! Adulting is hard! Marriage is hard! Sure, some people make it look easy, but let's leave them out of it and talk about the real work that staying married involves. We usually try some "games" or conversation starters to break our habit of only talking about our kids, our jobs, or our day-to-day frustrations. Sometimes we play "would you rather?". Here are some of the ones we asked this last date night:
Wait, what just happened? We soon realized that the frivolous conversations led to deeper ones and that was the eventual goal anyway, BUT had we ever really talked about any of these things? We have not crossed into some of those territories personally, but we have witnessed other loved ones facing different challenges. Those various challenges have seemed more frequent as we age, or perhaps our reservoirs of empathy grow deeper with maturity and life experience. To be quite frank, husband and I had not attended many funerals together prior to the last 2-3 years. We were busy attending weddings or baby showers. That dress with heels and coat and tie now have a different destination it seems. And so it goes. This weekend we've discussed our future grandparent names, how we picture retirement for each of us individually as well as together, and trips we plan to take. We have discussed aging parents and various family caregiving scenarios. Our first few "just us" getaways involved naps and recovery from pure exhaustion and planning out toddler birthday parties, Halloween costume ideas, or Santa ideas. Now we are brainstorming passive income ideas, retirement goals, and our own personal dreams and desires. We are transforming, both together and separately, from Mom & Dad, to 2 people with our own passions, fears, and personal insecurities. I am by no means a marriage expert.
I have seen a beautiful example of marriage in my parents and some of my other family members. Husband and I have each had a failed marriage prior to this one, so we know how painful divorce is and we are each way too stubborn to go down without a fight. I'm not writing this as a beacon of marital bliss, but rather as a tired working mom in the thick of motherhood, menopause, and midlife (try having kids in your mid-30's) 😜. I am writing this as an imperfect, hard-to-please, bleeding-heart woman married to an imperfect, hard-headed, scared-of-abandonment man that didn't see the example of marriage that I saw growing up. We are actually two scared-of-being-vulnerable humans bound together by beautiful boys and God, fate, the universe - but we, too, are still trying to figure it all out. If you find yourself still figuring it all out, it's OKAY. Stay the course. My Uncle Don told me one time many years ago, "Amy, you know how to stay married, right? long pause. You just never leave. Neither of you. You stay and you don't leave." Time and space apart can sometimes be good for a marriage. They can allow room to think and heal. But time TOGETHER has been our best strategy. Make your marriage a priority. Make your spouse a priority. He or she is a worthy investment. You can read all the books and try all the counseling, but sometimes you just need TIME together and conversations that bring you closer than you thought you might ever be. Godspeed. What's in a name? I have been married twice. I dated my first husband six years before we got married, and we were married 7 years. We didn't have any children. I've been married to my current husband for 12 years now and we have raised 3 children together. My step-son was 7 when we got married (19 now and out of the house), and our boys are 9 and 11. What is bizarre is that neither of my husbands have a very close relationship with their fathers. In fact, I have never met either of their fathers. To take that even further, I have never met a SINGLE person on either of their father's side of the family. So... to put that into practical terms, I have had a last name for 19 of my 45 years that really had no "meaning" to me. My first husband was the only "Smith" (not his name, but just using as an example) I knew but then I carried that name. My second husband is the only Cobb I know other than our 3 children. Let that sink in for a moment. This has made for some very awkward life moments:
Since I'm really into family in general, and I love old family names and family history, I bought my parents an Ancestry.com kit for Mother's or Father's Day one year. I also bought one for myself and my husband. I love looking back at all of our relatives and heritage, but building my husband's family tree has been difficult. This has led me into some deep thought (doesn't take much for me to go deep 😜).
In my opinion, a name carries weight. Identity matters. Having always worked in the medical field, my name is something I sign every single day. I prescribe medicine so it appears on prescription bottles and insurance claims and lab and imaging orders. Nurses answer the phone "Amy Cobb's office, how may I help you?" I am listed as a primary care provider for about 2000 people. I don't mention this as if I am anything special. I most certainly am not. But do I feel odd having a last name plastered all over HealthGrades and pill bottles when I have no physical, emotional, or spiritual connection to the name? Yes, I am married to a Cobb. But what makes him a "Cobb?" I can't grin at my husband and say "you laugh just like your daddy." I can't look at my boys and tell them they have the Cobb nose or the Cobb stubborn streak. I can't say "boys, your grandfather would have loved to see you hit that ball, march that field, fix that jet." I don't know any Cobb recipes or Cobb traditions. I don't know if or where they went to church, what music they loved, or how they earned a living. And so again, is this how fatherless children feel? What about the motherless child? Is it the name that carries the weight or the connection itself with a parent, a heritage, a history? For my adopted friends and patients, what does their adopted name mean to them? Is it a name filled with love, hope, and acceptance or is it a daily reminder of what could have been and what may never be? Not knowing anyone else with my name is a first-world problem. I realize that. But it is a thing. I'm learning to acknowledge my "things." I'm learning to feel those feelings, name what's missing or hurting, and process what thoughts can do to my body. Is this shame I am feeling? Regret? Did I even do anything wrong? Who is to blame - or is blame even required? Another ebb and flow in the circle of life, the jagged bonds of connectedness that barely keep us together - sometimes by one single strand of a lineage. I reached out to my writing group to see if any adopted writers had a perspective about the meaning of a name. Ann C. Averill wrote a beautiful piece about her experience with her name, and I am happy to feature it as a guest post on 10/12/21. Thank you, Ann, for your bravery and vulnerability to share with my readers. ❤️
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/ Here are 10 easy ways to support someone with a chronic illness:
I have been living with a chronic illness for 5 years now. My family and friends have been a huge source of support. Even as they've tried to love me, I've witnessed their looks of "what can I do?" or "what should I say?". Most chronic illnesses are unique and involve multiple appointments with various specialists, countless medications, and years of simply managing one's health. These concrete examples can really help your loved one and make them feel important.
|