Tag Archives: life

Face the Mountain

You can and you will.” How many times have I heard my Mom speak these words to me. Sometimes in her most powerful parental voice laced with threatening consequences (if by chance I decided I couldn’t and didn’t) while other times these words were spoken with encouragement to help motivate me to tackle a challenging task.

I have since adopted this saying and when I talk to myself (frequent occurrence) I say “I can and I will!” The mind is a powerful tool and more often than not, the battle is won or lost just by our thoughts.

Over the years I’ve come to learn some things about myself and life.  For instance, when faced with fight, flight or freeze I…FLIGHT, run, bolt, take off!  I’m a runner and have perfected the skill of evacuation almost effortlessly.  I know where it comes from. It’s no big mystery or secret.  I endured endless ridicule when I was a kid.  Growing up with juvenile onset rheumatoid arthritis in the 1970’s was pure hell.  In this era the concept of bullying was thought of as normal childhood behavior.  A zero tolerance policy didn’t exist in our schools and as a result we were left on our own to figure it out.  I quickly learned survival meant me removing myself from whatever terrorizing situation I found myself in.  Hence, the beautifully perfected skills of running.

Fast forward 40 some years and ya’know what happens to runners? Eventually we run out places to run and we must stand and face the discomfort.  We soon realize whatever we keep running from is inescapable because it continues to show up every place we sprint to until we deal with it.   It’s like our worst life scenarios on repeat.  Whether it’s an adult bully, difficult job, difficult co-worker, unfair treatment, invisibility, domineering relationships, or whatever, freedom will never truly exist until we deal with the issues we’re running from.

Yeah.  Not comfortable territory but I’m learning to embrace this new area called standing still.  And when I’m tempted to “Run   Beth,   Run,” I hear my beautiful Mom’s words in my head, “Bethann, you can and you will!” and I {errrkkk-screeching breaks} stop.

I can and I will. Day by day. Thought by thought. Action by action.

How many fellow runners do I have out there?  How many pairs of situational running shoes have you worn out?

Remember, you can and you will.  Stand. Win the battle AND the war because your life is meant to be great. I speak from experience, running brings a sense of fatiguing disorder and disruption that interferes with peace. Face that mountain instead of wondering (running) around it!

We can and we will.  Stand and be still.

Have a great week!!!

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Stand (or sit with feet up and shoes unlaced) Be Still. No running permitted.

 

 

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Thinking not sleeping

Its after 3am and here I sit.  Awake.  Wide awake.  Why?  Because my mind won’t shut off.  I think, therefore I am awake.

I’m thinking about my Mom and how much I miss her. It’s been a year since she’s been gone and it still doesn’t seem real. I dreamt about her while I crash napped after work today.  In my dream she was praying for me…and I believe she actually was.

I’m thinking about my job, some choices I have to make and wondering how these choices will impact my future and where said future will take me.

I’m thinking I really wish my Mom was here so I could talk to her about everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. And call her a gazillion times a day because I remembered something or forgot to tell her something or needed to ask her something…a gazillion times just because I could.

I’m thinking about my daughter in college and the amount of debt she’s accruing [more than the cost of our suburbia home] without a making-money-right-out-of-school major and the fact that yours truly co-signed those loans taking on financial responsibility should she fail to pay is more sickening than her threats to find a sugar daddy.  {sorta}

I’m thinking at 46yrs old how much I STILL need my Mom.  Every. Single. Day.  More emotionally than anything else but…I mean I recently had the flu and I kept wishing my Mom was there to hold back my Rapunzel mane while I blew chunks.   While Mr. Pavlov means well, I find his his “you okay?” (as I’m the reincarnation of a geyser in human form) lacking.  And the kids? You can fill in that mental picture on your own but let’s just say it involves verbal groans of disgust and rapid departure from the scene.

I’m thinking how some people really suck and I would love to trip them while they walk and then, out of nowhere I’m getting the warm and fuzzies for all of the truly good and wonderful people in my life. (Imma stay right here on the warm and fuzzies for a minute.)

I’m thinking if my Mom was still her I could call her right now…and guaranteed she would be awake!

I’m thinking I’m going to be thinking for the rest of the night.

One thing I do know for sure.  I miss my Mom and this hurt is not going to stop anytime soon, if ever.

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Girl Trip North Carolina before she was diagnosed 

 

 

 

Naked and [not] afraid

“We didn’t like the way your mammogram looked. You need to come back for more imaging.”

Any woman who has ever received a call like this knows the dread that creeps into your soul. And those of us with dense breasts are more likely to get these calls.

The tech was sweet. She tried to be nonchalant but as soon as she zeroed in on one area of my breast rather than a general exploration, I knew they saw something and were on a search and discovery mission.

“But I have dense breasts. It’s nothing.” I told myself as I lay calmly. After forever of Ultrasound probing, she smiled and said she had to check images with the radiologist. A few minutes later she came back and went to town again in the target area getting more pictures. She left me once again to confer with the radiologist. And this time it seemed like forever.

Thoughts started to creep their way into my mind. “What if it is something?” I had already had biopsies in the past and know that drill and the waiting process involved. But before I could feed that fear the radiologist herself came into the room and I know enough to KNOW that something was up. She smiled and said she wanted to get the images herself and took over the Ultrasound probing of my boob. She left me alone while she went to confer with a colleague.

I was alone. For a long time. Waiting. And you know that fear that I didn’t get a chance to feed? Well it came back hungry for my thoughts. I began to think about my beautiful Mom and her battle with breast cancer. All of the images of her last days flooded my mind. I started to think about my kids and what they would have to go through. I felt my heart race, my breathing quickened and tears began to form in my eyes. Then it the midst of that torment I felt a calming peace flood my being. I smiled because I knew what was happening. Absolutely nothing.

I was feeling fear but had nothing to fear. It was all “What ifs” Simply put, fear is nothing more than Faith in the wrong kingdom.

The door opened and in walked the tech sans radiologist and informed me the radiologist(s) wanted to get a 3D frontal mammogram. I know the drill. I quickly assumed the position and up on the slab went my boob.Then I sat alone again and waited, refusing to think of anything other than the gazillion things I had to do once I got home.

Door opened and in hurried the tech who now informed me the radiologist wanted her to examine my breast. Seriously? This was a new level of service. I mean my OBGYNE regularly feels me up but a radiology tech? Brand new experience!

So I flashed her the goods and she began to position me and look for any irregularities while she yelled down the hall to the two radiologists in the viewing room viewing my films “No, everything looks good. I don’t see any dimpling or puckering or…well, it looks perfect.” I smiled proudly as I repeated “My boob is absolutely perfect.”

Still wearing the goofy perfect boob smile, I noticed the radiologist walking down the hall toward my room. She looked concerned and puzzled. Very puzzled. She proceeded to inform me that they could identify the dense tissue and where it had been biopsied before but there was an area of tunneling that they couldn’t figure out.

I echoed her word “tunneling?” Then added “As in something a nipple piercing could cause?” She nodded and replied, “Yes but we checked and you don’t have your nipples pierced.” A big, huge, perma-smile of extreme relief spread across my face and I informed her that I did BUT TOOK THEM OUT FOR THE PROCEDURE!!!!! (Because who wants to have their boob smashed while wearing metal jewelry?) She looked mortified and then relieved as she nodded and clapped her hands together. “That’s it! That explains it!!” She yelled. And the boob-probing-feeling-up-3D-mammogram-radiology-tech let out a “Oh Thank God!”

Yes, thank-you God. See, if you allow fear to have power over your mind and thoughts a simple, stupid piercing quickly becomes cancer and the belief is enforced by the actions of medical personnel and the mental and physical torment snowballs from there.

We always have a choice. Our thoughts and our actions are ours. We control them. I choose positivity and faith even though I was tempted to give the radiologist a smack down for making assumptions and not taking a better history but….positivity remember?

And again, fear is Faith in the wrong kingdom. Empower Faith, not fear.

And if all else fails, get naked

Hot and Stupid

A video tribute to Valentine’s Day

Sorry to disappoint but this post is not about a blonde, bombshell Barbie who fails to score above 500 on her SATs.

True, she does have a full body of lustrous locks.  And yes, she isn’t exactly the reincarnation of Einstein but that’s where the similarities between bombshell Barbie and ignoramus Angel end.

Angel?

Angel is our faithful, dim-witted, family canine who seeks out human companionship like Jersey Shore’s “The Situation” preys upon female flesh.

She is intense.  Her pursuit of love and affection is never-ending even if it means placing herself in less than ideal situations.  Angel will wait.  Patiently.  And then wait a little more for that brief moment of bliss when a random human finally acknowledges her panting, smelly presence and offers her an obligatory scratch.

Why do we have her?

Because seven years ago our daughter, at the ripe age of 7, demanded her and we caved pretended it was our idea.  Chalk it up to hormones, sleep deprivation and insanity on my part…I had a newborn attached to my body 24/7 sucking my life source.  Clearly, I was not in a stable frame of mind.

And many times I question Angel’s mental stability.  I think she got the short end of the cranial material.  Either that or she is truly LOVE starved.  Although, I consider dental checks, brushing, ear cleaning, toe nail clipping and hog-tying-bath-time the apex of sacrificial LOVE.  BUUT  She must desire more agape as evidenced today when she attempted to cook herself just to be by my side.

We were alone.  I was cold so I pulled up a comfy chair and cranked on the gas fireplace.  The kids were in school and she was in her chronic emotional state of neediness.  She refused to part from my presence even though the creature was obviously tormented by the heat.  Because of video size limits, you will only see a clip of her torment below….but it is more than enough.

What you do not get to visually appreciate is the constant discomfort and position changes, the Semi Truck panting, the moistening of the parched lips and the pathetic looks in my direction begging me to move away from the inferno flames.  I did not move.  I chose to remain tush planted and film my intellectually challenged subject.

Eventually compassion moved me.  Well, NO actually I feared she would succumb to hyperthermia induced brain damage and she requires as many actively firing brain cells as possible! 

So Angel, as we come upon the holiday of LOOOOVE…this post is for you…our Hot and Stupid one!

Leave and cleave

Allowed to grow

The art of letting go.  Hmmm, haven’t quite mastered that one yet.  But c’mon my kids are still all under the age of 15!  Thinking about leaving and cleaving is downright puke provoking. 

Or is it?

You see I’ve had one of my mother “Ahh-Haa” moments.  It is simple really.  Everything we do from the time they POP out of us wailing their screams of protest is to prepare them for adulthood. 

At first we change diapers.  Then progress to wiping little rears. Eventually these little bodies develop motor skills and coordination and begin to self-wipe their own little rears.  Now, maybe the job is extremely messy and not the best at first [as evident by the skid marks discovered while doing laundry] but in time every child becomes a proficient butt wiper IF they are given the opportunity to try. 

I have met so many families of late who, out of presumed fear, attempt to shelter and smother [totally suck the life out of] their kids from learning and growing in our world. Yes, we live in a crazy world.  Yes, there are freaks.  Yes, there are real dangers.  But it is our responsibility to help navigate our children through these times and teach them how to make wise decisions and choices.  Because in a blink they will be out there…leaving and choosing someone to do the cleaving with (I’m gonna hurl).  If they haven’t been allowed to spread their wings in the safety of their supervised home nest then they will crash and burn upon the first freedom take off and many others after that.  AND the crashing and burning part…it just doesn’t effect them.  It effects the entire family no matter what age they are.

Truly people, we need to let our kids wipe their own butts and get a little messy while we’re still around to do the laundry.  It is much easier to wash a little skid mark than an entire PILE of crap!!