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There is nothing worse than having a fight or flight response. It can last for hours once the adrenaline and cortisol dump into the bloodstream. It is bad enough when you have that response and you know what caused it, but imagine having that response without knowing what caused it. That can feel defeating and depleting. Since I have had too many panic attacks to count over the years, I have started to identify ways and places I feel safe. If I am able to get to one of these places, I can sometimes head off a panic attack or restore a calm mood. I hope you can start to identify your safe places and safe activities. For ME, my top 7 are:
I created a Power Hour with my husband 1-2 years ago. This hour from 7-8 pm is sacred and did not happen until at least 10 years into my marriage. There were lots of reasons we were not connecting regularly, but one of them was some strained family dynamics. I created this time and location so that we could start to connect regularly and so that other family members would respect that time we both needed so desperately. Naming what you need is so important. Deciding what will happen and when it will happen is paramount for consistency and expectations in a relationship. As I have said many times, I am not a licensed therapist.
When I found my AMAZING current therapist, one of the very first things she guided me to ask myself regularly was "do I feel safe?". I barely had time to stretch for 5 minutes a day, so how was I going to remember to ask myself if I feel safe? What in the world was she talking about? I soon realized that the simple, brief, piercing question "do I feel safe?" would become a huge turning point for healing in my life. Do I feel safe in this friendship? Do I feel safe in this marriage? Do I feel safe at work? Do I feel safe with just me, myself, and I? And if I don't feel safe, can I ask those that love me for what I need? Are there some strategies we could implement that would help me to feel safe? Do I need to close spend more time with those people and in those places that help me feel safe? Will that help me navigate the unavoidable situations where I do not feel safe? And most importantly, if I start to feel unsafe (which can sometimes lead to a panic attack), HOW can I get back to safety both mentally and physically? She freed up my LIFE when she explained that I don't have to "fix" whatever is making me feel unsafe. I just have to learn how to regulate my own body and get back to a place of calm and centeredness. Wow. Mic Drop. I don't have to fix it! I can't fix it! This is one of those posts I encourage you to read a few times and perhaps grab a pen and paper. Jot down the places and people who make you feel icky. Write down the people and places that make you feel GOOD. And try to stop focusing on fixing the first list. You can't fix it. Focus on spending more time in and around the second list. And find your seven ways and places to feel safe. Godspeed.
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At the end of the day. At the end of my life. When I'm old and gray. When I'm free from strife. I will smile every time I remember your face. And no one can take that from us. Godspeed. Photo Credit: Annie Spratt I was eager and he was young I was ready but he was numb I was happy and he was still I was hopeful but he was nil We had some laughs We had some smiles I read to him at night Does he remember those times? Then I had his brothers and he backed away or did I hedge him out? who could truly say? Come to me sweet boy not you, I mean him I mean all 3 of you silly I mean all of 3 of them It's different they all say he's not your blood Is it different? Aren't they all different? It's clouded. It's mud. I'm stuck and he's stuck. He looks and I look. We smile and they smile. I ache and he aches. We give and we take and sometimes it all breaks. His daddy can't get it. How could he? It's pointless. But I have to get it. And do it. And "go on, sis" Keep going. Keep numbing. I didn't know it. He didn't know it. We didn't know it but we did it and here we are and we are in it. So I look at him, a product as much of me as his dad. And I don't know what to do with it. I have these other 2 on my tab. The deductions, subtractions, additions?, conditions? It's all hard and whoever says that it isn't just ISN'T telling the truth dear. See I try to be real. He's "not mine" but I'm his and we're each other's and how does that feel? Would I change it? Some days I would. In a heartbeat. Not a second thought. But does he need me and do I need him and are we better because we came together when we were both broken and wounded and bleeding and cold Now we're mending and warmer and dare I say, a little old. Was it easy? It's been the hardest thing I've ever done. It can push 2 lovers apart quicker than any weapon, any gun, any bullet to the heart that's how some moments felt I have wept, I have wailed, I have screamed, I have knelt But one day his daddy may find out what it took to hold it ALL together and to remain unshook in the quake of dysfunction and abandonment and grief of a sweet little boy looking helplessly at me. She didn't stay, sweet baby, and I'm so sorry. I can't explain it. But I'm here and I'm not leaving, and I promise - I wouldn't change it. To every little boy or every little girl who had a mama or a daddy step up outside of the DNA lines. This is to you dear ones and to the strong adults who have rearranged their hearts and lives for you. We wouldn't change it. My story is different than most step-moms. Almost seven when I met him he already had a mom. So I did what thought a step-mom would do. I had no child of my own. Lord knows I did not have a clue how to parent this sweet boy who slept down the hall every other week for a week. Thus we stumbled; there were falls. Those early years of homework and karate class. Parent-teacher conferences where I was often asked if I was his mom, since I was the only one who seemed tuned in who emailed and would come to all his events, I was all in. Meanwhile I had my babies 20 months apart, back to back. Boys upon boys, our schedules were packed. Those years of one on the hip and one in the belly and one hitting puberty. I wish THIS wiser me could tell THAT younger me that it would all work out one way or another; but his daddy and I we fought over and over. I saw coddling. He saw support. I saw side-taking. He saw retort. Step-son soon lived with us full-time and that was that. I was really his mom. She stopped putting on the act. So I again tried to treat all 3 the same "we have rules in this house" "If you did it, take the blame." But Daddy (to me) just couldn't allow his oldest who had been hurt to be kept in tow. Maybe by him, but never by me. Maybe on a Tuesday, but never consistently. So the marital battle of blended families began. It wasn't "yours, mine, and ours" it was "Me & The Little Two versus Them." And it divided us, collided us, excised us from the family that I had prayed for and dreamed of and waited for... But I didn't know how to fix it, The divide between the 5 of us. I was "always too hard on him," I needed to "chill out and stop caring so much." This passionate mama doesn't know how to do that. I see my children and I want them to try and to do their best. Thus the battle continued. There were wounds. There were scars. Being a full-time step-parent has left its mark. On our marriage. On my spirit. On my step-son, I'm sure. The war still continues as we are almost 2 years in to him being an adult and out of the house. I have certain expectations. I require a text or call now and then. I wish I could tell you it's easy or fun. Maybe for some folks it is, but not for us. Trying to glue us back together has been the hardest thing I have EVER done. But we keep on trying Keep on fighting Is it Fighting or is it Trying? The world keeps spinning The time keeps ticking The years seem shorter The road can seem colder... but sometimes on a Saturday when I watch my children smile and play, I remember that it's worth it and HE is worth it and WE are worth it. I sigh and sleep the hurt away. So if you love someone you didn't make You see their soul, and you feel their ache, Remember that they know the truth And love is really all they need from you. Keep loving. Love heals. If you love someone you didn't make, I see you. You are seen. And you matter. 2 year anniversary of covid- what isn't in the news or really discussed publicly:
What is working?
What is not working?
What's next? What do I want more of?
Okay, so what does my list of "stuff" have to do with you? It's meant to be a guide or a tool for you to do your own quarterly review. What is working? What is not working? What do you want more of? Or less of? What have you learned in the last 3 months? I encourage you to take a few moments to yourself in one of those cracks of time we all barely get these days. Write it down. Type it in your phone notes. Say it out loud if you want to do that. But give it some THOUGHT. Consistent quarterly reviews or seasonal reflections can be life-giving and increase your productivity, contentment, and enthusiasm for what lies before you! Godspeed. ❤️
Does any of this sound familiar? It can be so VERY painful! How do we handle it? How do we move forward? I am currently working on being more vulnerable with my SAFE trusted people. I do not encourage jumping into vulnerability with strangers or acquaintances - you will almost always get burned. Instead, I encourage you to try it - tiptoe into it- with a very few people that you trust. Share your true feelings. Your fears. Your struggles. Your feelings of inadequacy. Your shame. But beware- even your SAFE people may not know what to do when you share these things. You may be the one who is always strong. You may be the one who always helps others but never needs help. This may be due to your Enneagram or personality type, or it may be a learned skill from your family of origin. And by skill, I also mean defense or coping mechanism, but I digress... So... what if you finally open up with said trusted people and they don't know how to respond? What next? My suggestion is to allow THEM time to process it. After all, they aren't used to you coming to them for advice or support. After adequate time has passed, ask them if you two can talk about it. Remind them that you shared this with them because you trust them and you value their feedback. If they are unable to support you for whatever reason, you will know that they might not be someone you can turn to in a time of need or that right now they just do not have the bandwidth to support you. And that's okay. If you receive pushback from your person or one of the rejections I listed above, then perhaps this says more about them and their own feelings of self-worth or lack thereof. Perhaps empathy is not their strong suit. Perhaps not being the center of attention does not fit within their needs. Perhaps supporting you takes too much of their energy that they would rather spend elsewhere. And if so, then you have your answer. Take that however you choose. So that covers the topic of vulnerability with SAFE loved ones. What about rejection? Rejection can occur in friendships, romantic relationships, at work, at your child's activities (mom hate, anybody? or mom cliques?). Rejection can be aggressive and in-your-face or it can be silent and manipulative. Rejection can be someone you love simply not supporting you or asking about your newfound passion or project (or marriage or kids or job or anything for that matter). That feels like rejection, right? Rejection can be passive-aggressive or outright pointed and forceful. Anything that makes us feel like our efforts are either unnoticed or unappreciated or unsupported FEELS LIKE rejection. Perhaps your corporation just doesn't know what to do with you. So they just kinda ignore you and your talents and even though EVERYONE ELSE you encounter praises you, they just watch you from afar. Perhaps your love interest is jealous of your success, so instead of celebrating and bragging to others about you, they just sit quietly while complete strangers are the ones to congratulate you. Maybe your family members have always wanted to do what it is that you are actually brave enough to do now and so they can't find the words to talk with you about it. Their feelings of inadequacy outweigh their actual love for you and desire to support you. All this stuff is DEEP, ya'll - and it's real. I have witnessed it on both ends - both the recipient of rejection and the one crippled with (insert emotion here) so much that I couldn't tell my loved one I was proud of them. How many social media posts have you AVOIDED (scrolled right by) because you weren't sure what to comment or if you were truly happy for that person OR it made you feel some type of way? STOP RIGHT THERE. I know for 100% FACTS that I just told the truth. Every single person reading this right now has done that. DM me if I'm wrong. It's okay that you have done it (I've done it too!!!!), but I would encourage you to stop. Take some deep breaths. Walk outside if that's what grounds you. And ask yourself what emotion you are feeling and maybe why you are feeling it. That person who posted whatever it is that triggered you was NOT thinking about you when they posted it. (Everyone is always only thinking about themselves, 99% of the time, or so Dear Therapist reminds me regularly). Perhaps YOU need to work on whatever it is that was triggered inside you to the point that you couldn't congratulate or console someone you actually care about. I REPEAT. Perhaps YOU need to work on whatever it is that was triggered inside you to the point that you couldn't congratulate or console someone you actually care about. Again, I am not a licensed therapist, but I have worked with patients for over 20 years. I'm in my second marriage. I am a regular mom and a full-time step-mom. I have been in and lived in functional families and dysfunctional families. I have been betrayed. I have been lied to and belittled. I am a trauma survivor and I am honestly only trying to help anybody, not everybody. If I can help one person know and feel that they are not alone, then me sitting here typing on my back patio on my glorious day off is worth every second of my time and ounce of my energy. The birds are chirping, ya'll. The sun is shining. And I want to live. I want to both be alive and enjoy my life. It's almost spring and I feel a shift on the horizon. I'm tired of all the surface conversations and BS. I'm ready to speak my truth. Vulnerability is hard and rejection stinks. Bottom line. But we can do better. We just have to pause, think, consider who it is we may be hurting (because of our own garbage we are also working on), and then do better. Godspeed. I have a beefy cardiology post that was supposed to drop today, but I don't wanna. I've started it, and it's important, but it's way too serious after coming off a glorious restful vacation. Instead, I thought I would share all the random thoughts that have been filling up and overflowing from my overworked brain. Maybe you can relate. Maybe not. Either way, you might find these entertaining.
Anywho, it's Saturday- the sun in shining - and if you're exhausted parenting toddlers right now, just enjoy the Duplos and Play-Doh. Starbucks and Xbox await! Entitlement and minimal communication are just chillin' - they'll come soon enough! Godspeed moms and dads. How did our parents survive us? 🥰 photo credit: Josh Hild Have you ever been in a crowded room Conversations buzzing Bass guitar, drums kaboom Fun is in the air Laughter all around Does anyone notice I haven't been found? Sure, I am talking pushing out a nod yes Does anyone notice my brand new dress? I have so many ideas, fresh perspectives, big dreams Does anyone notice my ship is moving downstream? Hey, Listen! Watch this! Help me decide what to do! Does anyone notice I have dilemmas and crises too? Take, take, take Always dolling out the goods But I want to receive Dear Therapist told me I could! How do I ask for it? I thought I told them what I need. They can't handle me needing them. For I am the Savior indeed. Not the Savior like Jesus but the Solver, the Lover The Healer, The Lifter The Fixer, The Mother I want to be picked up. I want to be tucked in. I want to be protected. I want to be the less friend. Did I say less? Oh wow. I did. I'm too tired to be the best. I'm too broken to always mend. And pick up and clean up and listen and console. I want to be picked up. I'm no longer willing to be told that something else is more important and you can't handle anymore. I need a net, a pillow, a soft spot. I need a knock on my door. So if you're sitting at that table feeling overlooked and used. I see you, my fellow Fixer, Let's blow up this one-sided ruse. To all the Takers in this world. From all the tired, used Givers.
2 steps forward 1 step back Don't look up dear Stay on track The path gets clear Then takes a turn The heat turns up I'm tired of the burn I want easy I want laze You choose chaos You like that maze My body is tired dear My mind is worn down But you love that adrenaline Too high to see my frown And all are watching All ears tuned in And you love that trophy Isn't the goal to win? My goal is tranquility My goal is to meld I want to feel seen babe I want to feel held Do you love me? Do you see me? Do you want me? Do you need me? Why am I asking when I should know? 2 steps forward 1 step back I can't look up dear I've lost the track For all the lovers of chaos from all the lovers of ease. 🎼 Cherish: My Love Letter to Music 🎼 I cherish the depth of a bass guitar It tickles my rib cage; it teases my heart My toes start tapping; my hips, they sway Whether I am sad or mad or lonely, it’s okay While the melody speaks to me, The harmony sees through me The drums set up space in my body and soul, Add brass and winds and keys, Now I am whole But the lyrics, the WORDS are what I cherish the most They pierce me, tattoo me, renew me, and expose Those tiny little pieces that we all try to hide The lyrics, the WORDS... they seep gently inside I cherish the music that built this life The staccato of pleasure, the minor chords of strife In my darkest hour or my coldest night I cherish my medicine of music; it shines the light The lights are on and the volume is up I cherish the music that yields me unstuck I am rhythm, I am blues, I am a crescendo of hues Oh music, sweet music, our wayward spirits be fused When I received the "CHERISH" writing prompt from my writer's group, I had a small chuckle. My small bloggers' writing group consists primarily of Christian writers, all of whom are women, and whose work I enjoy and admire. That said, I considered all the ways we can cherish God and our faith that these women would probably cover in their posts. My mind, however, went STRAIGHT to Kool & the Gang's song Cherish which was released in 1985 when I was 9 years old and full of hope. What can I say? Music is in my BONES. I wake up with it. I end my day with it. It is a constant soundtrack for any emotion I have ever had, and it seems to pour out of me without effort. I cannot imagine my life without music, and well... I just love it. Please support my fellow hope*writers by reading their work:
Something has happened. You are hurting or your loved one is hurting and the ickiness or awkwardness or forced normalcy is not going to go anywhere anytime soon. Feelings are hurt. Perhaps a misunderstanding or perhaps a true "injury" to the relationship has occurred. Words or actions that cannot be unsaid or undone. And a difficult conversation needs to be had. You dread it. You hate confrontation. But you can't sleep either. And you can't make polite small talk anymore. There's an elephant in the room and she's on fire. (I love elephants so forgive that visual- just trying to portray a feeling). So what next? The truth is that I don't have the answer here. I recently had two difficult conversations and neither one was fun. The advice I will give is from my therapist (I really should buy her a nice dinner for all the content I glean from her- thank you Unnamed Therapist 🥰):
Keep all of these tips in mind while you have the difficult conversation. My prayer for you is that your difficult conversations are productive, meaningful, and end in resolution. Life is hard enough on its own. Let us choose our words wisely and remember that those who love us are rarely trying to hurt us. Godspeed. Okay, this post might get a little confusing so bear with me. I would call it a fable, but fables involve animals or forces of nature according to Wikipedia. I would call it a parable, but I am not Jesus. So it's just a story. A True Story. As I was cooking tonight, I was actually following a recipe - which is something I very rarely do. Wouldn’t you know it? I totally screwed the recipe up. I had scrolled the internet late last night before the midnight cutoff for my click list and somehow combined two different chicken casserole recipes into one in my tired mom brain. Since I do cook on a regular basis, I tried to assemble the casserole from memory. That was where things went wrong. Long story short, the casserole was delicious and my family asked me to write it down so we can have it again. Then my writer brain kicked in, and I started to think of my friends who loathe cooking and would rather swallow nails than be stuck in a kitchen near a stove. I have always wondered if these friends (male or female) grew up in a house where meals were cooked on a regular basis. I have an inside scoop on meals in a wide variety of households because I am the primary care provider for around 2000 patients. I have families who eat out three meals per day seven days per week. How they afford a roof over their head, gas in their car, or clothes on their body is beyond me LOL. The folks in my house like to eat. Since I analyze everything, after this chicken casserole disaster-turned-deliciousness, I started to think about the non-cooks that I know.
Anyway, aside from all that, I started to think about the actual skills I have acquired from cooking on a regular basis. I rarely have to measure things unless it’s a new recipe. I really don’t even look at recipes. I’ve always been able to just make something up and it works. But I do give credit to my parents who always cooked and included me in the cooking. As a latchkey kid in the 1980s and 1990s, mom would leave directions for supper on an index card by the stove.
This helped me learn what side dishes pair with which main courses and how to time meals so that everything was ready at one time. If you hate to cook you’ve probably stopped reading by now, but bear with me- I do have a point. If you like to cook, I’m sure you’re reminiscing about your early cooking endeavors as a teen or early 20s and remembering the disasters and burned meals. We have all had them. Now back to my point. I think cooking is a lot like parenting. Some people have cooks in their homes and learn how to cook because they are included in the cooking and it comes naturally to them. Likewise, some children have really good parents in their homes and learn how to parent because they see good parenting every day. When they become parents, they are able to mirror a lot of what they saw as children. What about all the little girls and little boys that don’t see good parenting? Do they grow up to hate being a parent? Is parenting more difficult for them? Some of my non-cooking friends have told me that cooking is difficult for them. Are there any parallels? I am not saying good parents cook. Being a good parent has absolutely nothing to do with cooking. I am just wondering if my patients that seem to be checked out on parenting had poor examples of parents from which to learn. I know, I know. Deep, random thoughts on a rainy Sunday night. But I think of the little girls and the little boys who are now big girls and big boys. I see them struggling because they come to me. They open up about their struggles. And I feel them. I see their efforts and witness their frustrations. Most of them are really trying, but they feel defeated from the jump. I am not going to get overly cheesy here about a cookbook or a parenting book. Life is much harder than anything you could ever read in either of those books. I just want you to know that some of us got a “recipe” given to us while others did not. Some of us received love, attention, and praise while others did not. Let us be kind to one another and forgo the judgment. “Food” comes from many places. Let us feed each other well. ☀️ Godspeed.
I recently finished The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah. As I listen to books on my commute, I often pause the recording when I hear a lovely or heart-wrenching quote and voice text it into my iPhone notes. With The Four Winds, I captured 11 quotes. One that has settled into me is this:
"You're wearing your worried face"
said the daughter to her mother. "It's my love face" said the mother to her daughter.
*** I chose mother and daughter instead of character names for context
As I reflect upon ALL THE THINGS (#overanalyzersunite), I cannot get those words out of my head. I am embarrassed (or not?) to tell you the number of times one of my 3 boys has asked "are you okay mom? Your face looks funny like you're mad at me or worried." All the while, I'm thinking "I am cooking supper, I have just folded a million tiny boxer briefs, I signed your agenda, AND I am making a conscious effort to smile ever so slightly." I realize as I pass the hall mirror that my forced smile is only on the bottom half of my face and that the top half is riddled with the heavy and the unknown that I am carrying that day. In my previous post on motherhood, I mention that I sing my children awake. It is quirky and I don't know how it started, but it is ritual in this house. If ever a morning passes without music in the house, the boys know "mommy ain't right." (sidebar: the writer in me abhors "ain't" while the Kentucky in me knows it infers just another level of wrong that the word "not" misses). Laugh if you agree. As my boys get older, and as my therapy bill reaches the thousands of dollars, I am learning that pretending everything is okay:
With boys ages 19, 11, and 9, my Worried / Love Face has rested above my shoulders on so many different days and in so many different ways.
So what next? Is there a moral to this story? I think of my own Mama and both my grandmothers. I remember seeing their Worried / Love faces too and not knowing what they meant. I remember telling both grandmothers goodbye when they BOTH knew they were dying from lung cancer, one as a spitfire 60 year old and the other as a content great-grandmother in her 80s. Even if you are not a mother as you read these words, you have or had a mother. She may be a great mother, or she may be one of the worst. She may not be here to show you her Worried / Love face anymore, and for that my heart aches for you.
I will leave you with this. Another The Four Winds quote.
"Believe me Elsa, this little girl (or boy) will love you as no one ever has and make you crazy and try your soul. Often. And all at the same time." You either have a little girl or boy or you were a little girl or boy. If you have seen any parent figure's Worried Face, then just KNOW that you are or were or will always be LOVED beyond measure and without end. My pledge going forward is to tell my boys as much truth as they can handle at that moment about my Worried Face so that they will KNOW that it really just means that I love them. Forever and Always. Godspeed. 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. After I complete my yearly review, I try to set goals for the next year. I also look at my list of what added and what subtracted to my life and I keep all of those in mind as I set goals and plan events. To do this, I have several supplies at my fingertips AND several hours (sometimes spread over a few days) to complete this process. I recommend the following supplies:
Goal Setting 101:
I have 8 areas in which I set goals each year:
Here's an example of a SMART goal: Read 10 books in one year. It is Specific. Measurable. Achievable (I allow 2 months without a book at all). Relevant and realistic (education or entertainment is always good!). Time bound. I have a start and an end date. I can also easily track the goal throughout the year (I keep a "books read" in the back of my planner). Selecting your word of the year. This is optional, but I enjoy the process each year and it does help me try to maintain a central theme or focus each year. Some of my previous years' words have been:
Now the hard part. Actually planning out your year and setting goals for the year. These two steps are intertwined and can truly be life-changing if you take the time to do BOTH. If perhaps you are reading this in March or August or on a random Tuesday in November, that's OKAY. Your "year" can start at any time. You may be home with a new baby or off work for a health flare-up or surgery and you're just now having time to even remember your name. Sometimes these unexpected pockets in time are goldmines. Use this downtime to evaluate and future-plan. As I've hit this midlife bubble of feeling young and old all at the same time, my goals have changed. My expectations are lower for myself and others (thank you, therapy). My drive is more internally-based but is now redeemed by others just as much as it is myself. In short, my years of people-pleasing are behind me, BUT following my true self has led to a more community-focused and family-focused mindset. The cool part is that me, myself, and I benefit from that mindset shift as much or more than my loved ones and my community. Kinda hard to explain, but the moral of the story is to follow your heart. Everyone wins when we do that. Godspeed. Part of the reason I keep a planner is because my memory is terrible. Just ask my best friend since third grade. I blame it on nursing and NP school and having to memorize so many drugs and diseases. I also blame it on having lived in four states and meeting several "sets of people" in my lifetime. Anyway, when I sit down to start my year end review, I grab my planner. I repress memories which I am working on in therapy, but I really can’t remember what happened the past year without flipping through each month and glancing at big moments. I am not exactly sure why my brain is like that, but it is and yours may be too? Sometimes my mind is blown when I look at everything that happened in my personal or professional or emotional life in one calendar year. How do we survive with the pace and the demands of the world today? When is enough enough? Everyone I know feels like they’re drowning with all the work deadlines, projects, meetings, kids' activities, sports, and that's not even accounting for the emotional toll the past 2 years have taken on every single one of us. When I look back over 2021 in my own life, the following events come to light:
As I look back over the events of 2021, it often sparks me to plan and reserve trips or experiences for 2022. My manager also loves that I give her my days off for the entire year in December or January. I realize you might not be able to do this, but it actually reduces my anxiety knowing in January when I will be off throughout the year. If I am having an extremely stressful season / week / month, I already know the upcoming days of rest that are scheduled. My patients appreciate it too... less moving and rearranging (sorry for those reading this- 2021 was rough on my schedule!). 🤪 Sitting down and performing a yearly review also gives me reassurance or reminders of certain events I do NOT want to attend or participate in again. It helps me to identify what was life-giving and what was life-draining. That clarity is HUGE. You'll notice I did not list the following (but they all also happened): hurt feelings, miscommunication, personal growth, continued grief, strained conversations, burnout, apathy, frustration, disdain, regret, fear, hopelessness, anger, and anxiety. While I am not listing those publicly, they are named on my heart and mind. Thanks to counseling, I am trying not to wear them inside my body (The Body Keeps The Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk, MD). I am intentionally working to process and let go as I go instead of swallowing or shoving it down, or worse- spewing it out. This is hard work. This is a big deal. So I encourage you as we wrap up 2021 and enter 2022, to sit down and block off a good 30 minutes to yourself. Scroll through your planner or your Google Calendar or your Facebook pictures and think about the past 12 months. What felt good? What felt icky? Who gave you energy when you were around them? Who made you feel bad about yourself? What habits added to your life? What subtracted? Look at your screen time averages on your phone. Maybe set a goal to lower those. A fellow blogger in my writer's group wrote a piece about our children remembering us looking at our phones instead of looking at their faces. LET THAT SINK IN FOR A MINUTE. I may write a piece about goal-setting and planning for the year ahead, but I would be a sham if I told you I set any goals for 2021. I didn't even know I would start writing this year. This nudge just got so big in July that I just started (oh yeah, I forgot our trip to Birmingham this summer). I was in a hotel room in Birmingham with keyed-up pre-teens, a snoring husband (love you babe), and a laptop staring at me. I had to process all this STUFF and it just started. So just start. Even if you only take the next 2-5 minutes to reflect on 2021. I beg of you to do it. So many of us are just sleepwalking through life. Work. Supper. Kids. TV. Bed. Repeat. Weekend. And repeat again. Let us all try some self-evaluation, life-evaluation, emotional-evaluation. What is life-giving and what is life-draining? What brings you joy? The only person keeping me from writing was ME. What will YOU allow yourself to do in 2022? 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/ We all have basic human needs as individuals. Most of us would agree that we need food, sleep, and water and some agree we need love and friendship. I would venture to guess that beyond those basic needs, many people are sleep-walking through life without ever giving pause to what THEY or WE actually need from each other. Lots of therapy has helped me realize that other people in my life don't automatically KNOW what I need or expect from them. I must let them know what I need. I have also come to realize that no ONE person in my life could possibly fill or meet all of my needs. It is humanly impossible to meet all the needs of another human by oneself. It truly does take a village. Once we have identified our needs, we can start to look at the players on our team and realize who is filling which need in our life. Some fill multiple needs. Others fill one need or don't fill a need at all, but instead may be causing stress or toxicity. Perhaps "trimming the fat" is in order when it comes to our circle of loved ones. I have also learned that not all of us are CAPABLE or WILLING to meet certain needs of others, and that too can be a painful process of acceptance and growth. So, let's roll up our sleeves and look closely at the basic human needs of each person roaming around this earth. Let us make a list of the members of our circle and try to identify who fills which need(s). There are several reasons this is important:
This is real adulting. Grown up stuff. Hard stuff. Deep stuff. So get ready. photo credit: childhoodtraumarecovery.com Let us look at Maslow's hierarchy of needs from a current-day real-life perspective and add the context of relationships and connection to those needs:
I don't have many patients that walk into my office and tell me they have needs. Instead, they tell me they are sad. They are withdrawing from friends or family. They can't sleep. They don't feel good. The have mood swings or anger outbursts. They are no longer excited about life. Medication cannot "fix" some of these painful circumstances we are all facing in our lives. An SSRI (most commonly used class of anti-depressants) cannot make your spouse SEE you or try to meet your needs. It cannot heal decade-old wounds from your narcissistic mother. It cannot jump into your best friend's mind and tell her that she is hurting you with her words or actions. Nor can it walk into your adult child's house and announce that YOU are a person, too, and that you need love and respect. So many of these issues have been around so long in your life that you don't know where to begin to address them. I encourage you to seek counseling if and when you can. A good therapist really can change your life. In the meantime, write down YOUR needs. List what needs are being met and which are not being met. Jot down WHO is helping to meet those needs and make a mental note of who you really can count on in which needs department. Use your resources - your people - when you are in crisis. Learn to NOT go to the ones who have not or cannot meet certain needs so that you avoid further hurt and disappointment. And consider having a conversation with your loved one if the opportunity ever arises and the setting and timing are conducive to growth. We cannot read minds, and we are all flawed. This relationship and self-evaluation work isn't easy, but it is worth it. Godspeed. 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. I was listening to Emily P Freeman's episode with Shauna Niequist and one of Shauna's quotes struck me right in the sternum. Ouch! Immediate shame washed over me and so I had to check myself. Shame and I have been working ourselves out this past year or so, and so when She (shame) comes around, all my bells and whistles go off. Hold up, wait a minute - why did those words sting me like a fresh slap on the cheek? I think it is because they are TRUE. As women, we can connect or we can compare, but we cannot do both. A little louder for the people in the back. WE CAN CONNECT OR WE CAN COMPARE BUT WE CANNOT DO BOTH. These are Shauna's words reiterated and repeated by Emily. I am going to break this down on a practical level, because this is one lesson I hope I never forget. How do we connect and/or compare ourselves as women? Let me count the ways! Think of all the women you may encounter on a daily basis and check yourself on whether you have sized them up or stood with them in their journey.
Now consider if you've ever had these thoughts or even verbalized them with another woman ABOUT another woman... (gut punch)
I recently finished the book "What Happened to You?" by Dr. Bruce D. Perry and Oprah Winfrey. The concept inside the book includes a HUGE mindset shift from thinking "what's wrong with you?" to "what happened to you?". If someone you know or love is acting in ways that are not the norm- displaying anger, depression, anxiety, mood swings, childishness, avoidance, bitterness, negativity, or any emotion we don't "like" - take a deep breath. That person is CLEARLY struggling. Instead of taking another person's toxic behavior personally, acknowledge that something is going on within that person. They are acting out because something at some time happened to them or is happening now to them. Now, apply this concept of what happened to you AND the concept of connection instead of comparison and apply it to all those women we listed above:
Ladies, can we see the difference here?
Connection versus comparison??? Shauna is right! We can connect or we can compare but we CANNOT do both. Giving TOO MUCH grace, not holding boundaries, and "letting people off the hook" are worthy of their own post, but the simple art of connection is still a fantastic place to START. Let us begin with common ground and try to excise the comparison. Comparison really is the thief of joy my friends (thanks Teddy Roosevelt). Let us come together as ONE body of women and humans and recognize what joins us. We all face similar adversities as women, and tearing each other down is killing us as a sisterhood and internally at a soul level. To all the women in my life, I see you. I know you. I could be you. Let me recognize YOU and acknowledge YOU before my mind plays games. Ask any healer anywhere (nurse, therapist, doctor, anyone in the healing arts) and they will agree that at the most basic level, on our most vulnerable days, in our weakest moments, we are ALL the same. At our first breath and our last, we are completely and entirely the same. Comparison be gone. 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. ❤️
There are so many reasons a person should change jobs. I am going to discuss ALL the reasons a person should change jobs, and then I will discuss the specific reasons that I changed jobs after 15 years with a company. You should probably change jobs if:
She had legs as long as her cars (she always drove a Lincoln or a Ford). She loved cigarettes and an evening toddy. She never went to college, but she was sharp as a tack. She was good with money, and she wanted me to be able to take care of myself. She loved to dance, and she loved to have fun.
Every summer she would take me to an expensive swimsuit store in Gulf Shores and let me pick out whatever swimsuit I wanted, sometimes two. On her back porch, we sat together and shucked corn, shelled peas, and snapped beans. She loved my brother and me so much that she put an in-ground pool in her backyard and kept it crystal clean. She could call me out on my smart mouth or eye rolls in a hot second, and I will admit, I did not want to cross her. She and her third husband drove to see us in their RV which was the absolute coolest thing my friends and I had ever seen. No one in small-town Kentucky had an RV. One summer she flew a friend and me down to see her and we were able to fly without an adult. We thought we were movie stars! I was only thirteen when she was diagnosed with lung cancer and died 3 months later. When I went to “say goodbye” before she died, she told me to only cry 2 tears for her. She told me she had known love and loss and had a fulfilling career and raised her babies and got to meet her grandbabies. She told me she had traveled and had fun and danced weekly at the local spot. She had run a business and built a home (like literally picked out the plans which not all people get to do in their lifetime) and that she was okay to go. I had not known anything she had known at that time. No romantic love or loss (she was the first person I really lost as a child and boy was it a whammy!). No career or babies or grandbabies. No travel or weekly dance dates with my husband or businesses run or houses built. I sit here today, and I’ve done almost all of those things now. Because of her, I’ve even saved a dollar or two. Because of her, I laugh more, sing more, dance more, and love more. I forgive easier and dream more. Maya Angelou is famous for saying we don’t forget how people make us feel. Martha Louise Merrigan Taylor Rouse Taylor (yes, you read that right, she married 2 different Taylors of no relation) made me feel like I was special and important. When I was with her, I felt loved and cherished. Not perfect, she never let me think that, but close. |