Frog or Spaghetti?

Posted on January 5, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

Meditation singing bowl

I’ve got an eclectic understanding and practice of mindful living. I’m pretty sure I don’t have it quite right, but it works for me, so I’m sticking with it. This again goes with the story of my life–I don’t ever get things quite right, but I go with whatever feels right to me.

Recently a new friend asked how I meditate and live mindfully. I was stumped. Um, I know there’s a right answer to this, but I don’t go to sit often due to my schedule and juggling kids and life. So in fear of judgment, I immediately felt like I wasn’t really living mindfully or meditating properly. “Well,” I stammered, “I live mindfully in my breath and in being in the moments, especially the negative or uncomfortable ones. That’s how it’s really made a difference for me.”

Shortly thereafter, a good friend of mine asked how mindfulness meditation has impacted my life. Again, I didn’t know how to answer–I clearly have issues of feeling inadequate around doing this “properly.” (I’m working on it.) But I told her it has allowed me to be more present in my life, in each moment, in the discomfort. It’s allowed me to be calmer, kinder, gentler, accepting, and more loving to myself and others. And it’s allowed me to grow spiritually. It’s allowed me to let go. It’s allowed me opportunities to teach my children values I find important. I told her it’s an additional coping tool for me, it grounds me, it’s allowed me to feel such deep gratitude for so many things in daily life. It’s allowed me to not take moments and people and things for granted. It’s allowed me to truly connect with persons and humanity. It helps me live bravely and vulnerably and authentically. And all of that together has made such a difference in my life. That I am such a different person because of this.

I don’t think I explained it well to her, she’s still a bit confused. You all know I love using my words, but for some reason, explaining how I’ve incorporated mindfulness meditation into my life and being is very hard for me–I feel it more than I can say it.

Case in point: my kids love meditating. My seven-year-old daughter insisted we have a meditation singing bowl at home. And without fail, the second La Chica feels the air change–when tempers start to rise, when anxieties or tension fills the air, even before words are spoken, she runs and grabs the mallet to strike the bowl. When we ignore her because I’m a good parent we’re too worked up, she starts hammering away at it frantically, screaming “Do you not hear this?? BreatheBreatheBREATHE!” Which just stops us in our tracks and makes us laugh. Which then really pisses her off and she decides to hold her breath just to show us. But she does what feels right when her inner barometer calls to her–she knows when things bubble up and she tries to hold space for us. She uses no words to do this (until we ignore her).

I also recently purchased an activity book and CD for the kids to teach mindfulness techniques to young ones–Sitting Still Like a Frog. One exercise talks about sitting still like a frog–just observing and noticing; breathing and not reacting.  Another exercise talks about being a piece of spaghetti through progressive full-body relaxation techniques. Relaxing, calming down. When La Chica is upset, it is hard for her to calm down. She simply refuses to breathe. So now, I bark at her “Frog or spaghetti? Frog or spaghetti?! You choose.” And I’ll be damned if she doesn’t choose one, and starts to breathe and is then able to just be in the moment.

So I venture to say that perhaps in these matters I don’t need to be so articulate. It works for us, whatever it is we’re doing as we cobble together different aspects of living mindfully. I don’t consider my mindfulness meditation practice as living on my cushion so much as it lives in my heart and head. It’s not quite orthodox, it’s certainly not eloquent. But it is. And I’ll breathe to that. Ribbit.

Posted in Meditation, Mindfulness, Parenting, spirituality | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

To Love the Skin You’re In

Posted on January 3, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

Love the skin you're in

I’m always amazed at how my life has turned out. At different stages of my life, I have looked around and gone, “Huh. Who’da thunk?” I’ve never been a planner–I’ve never had a 5-year plan, or long-term goals. It’s just not in my DNA. I’ve always just sort of gone with things. I’ve always known I’d have a good job and lead a fairly respectable life, but that was the extent of it. I remember in elementary school, all the girls would doodle in their notebooks–they’d draw wedding dresses and wedding rings, and combine their first names with the last names of boys they had crushes on. I would sit there watching them, not comprehending what on earth they were doing. Career Day in school would give me anxiety. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

I never had dreams of getting married, or having kids, or being a CEO, or living in a single family home with or without a fence. I never had dreams of retiring on a beach somewhere. It wasn’t because I was lazy or not driven. In fact I worked very hard in school and did very well with an advanced degree, and am quite accomplished professionally. I just didn’t have these deep, passionate desires to be a teacher, or own my own business, or run a household. There were moments in time that I thought I’d like to be a pediatrician, or journalist, or live in New York City, but that was about it.

Looking back, I realize there has been one burning desire that was consistent through most of my life. All I ever wanted to be was Skinny and Pretty. In college, my diet consisted primarily of “beverages” and these wonderful breaded potato wedges (You had me at Sassy Sauce, Sal’s Birdland) when I scrounged up enough quarters to tip the delivery guy. Oh, and cigarettes. Two packs of Marlboro Reds a day truly does suppress your appetite. And your ability to breathe. But damnit I was Skinny. Smoking so much, probably not Pretty; but Skinny, yes.

Skinny and Pretty. What the fuck kind of goals are those? Ones that I thought would mean I would be loved and desired and accepted and deemed worthy. Because apparently I didn’t think I was worthy or accepted until I was Skinny or Pretty enough. When it comes down to it, my burning desire was just to be Loved. That’s all I ever wanted in life.

It’s been a long, slow journey through the years of hating and despising my body, of being too hard on it, wishing it was something else. In turn, being too hard and unkind to myself, wishing I was essentially someone else.

I’ve come to understand there is nothing wrong with my body. It’s not as tight and toned and shaped quite like society or my date would like it to be. But it’s mine, and it is me, and I’m fabulous. And I am finally comfortable in my own skin, metaphorically and literally, except when I’ve binged on Christmas cookies–then I’m a bit uncomfortable. But even then, I love myself and my body, and know firmly I am worthy of love.

How did I get here? Partly out of necessity after I pushed and punished my body to the point of painful injuries, and I was forced to literally stop and cry Uncle. Through the years I’ve also learned to live more mindfully, and in doing so I’ve been kinder to the world, to strangers, to loved ones. Kindness begets kindness, and in turn I started to treat myself with kindness too. And in coming full circle, realized I must be kind to myself to truly be kind to others. Kindness also begets living gently. Living gently and kindly leads naturally to loving others and oneself, wanting what’s best for others and oneself, and acting on those desires for betterment.

Skinny and Pretty doesn’t make the world a better place. Those goals aren’t worthy in anyone’s world. Being kind, being gentle, doing good–those make the world a better place. Those are my long term goals. And I love those goals. And I love my thick, strong body. There shouldn’t be less of me in the world. Not to sound conceited, but there should be more of me. Screw Skinny. And I tell my daughter all the time, Pretty is as Pretty does.

So I’ve stopped thinking mean, critical thoughts about my belly and my butt and my hair and my nose. I’ve stopped frantically squeezing in daily workouts even when it meant working out at 11pm. I’ve stopped trying to make parts of me somebody I am not. When I look at my reflection now, I sigh lovingly at what I see, and just say, “Yes.” When I work out now, it’s to feel good and strong; and when my body is too tired or hurt to work out, I say, “OK, another day.” It is not to be Skinny or Pretty. Or Loved.

Sure, I still have moments of thinking critical thoughts about how I look. But I stop those thoughts by thinking about my children. I’ve realized I cradle and embrace my children with loving-kindness. Why wouldn’t I do the same for myself? If I don’t, they will never learn to wholeheartedly embrace themselves with loving-kindness. I want them to know they are loved unconditionally, and they deserve self-kindness and love.

And you know what? I actually feel lighter now that I’m not carrying this burden of impossible expectations and anxiety of reaching those goals and aching longing to be loved. And because I love myself, and am kind to myself, and am kind to others, I actually feel more loved. We are as Loved as we are Loving. So I guess I’m accomplishing my goals after all.

Posted in Empowerment, Health Issues, Meditation, Mindfulness | Tagged , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

#endofyearblogpost

Posted on December 31, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

1

I think I’m supposed to come up with some sort of list–a year-end list of lessons learned, or milestone moments, or gratitudes, or resolutions, or horrible events, or things to look forward to in the new year. Some sort of list, Top 10 Somethings. At least that’s what seems to be the proper blogging protocol. But see, you all know I don’t do lists well. I just do things when I feel like it, and oftentimes not so well. I’ve been thinking about what to write to end the year to inspire you or make you laugh. I’m coming up empty. So I scour news stories, other blogs, stare at my children, stare at the empty cookie platter…still nothing but indigestion and a bloated stomach.

In my “research,” I noticed there’s a lot of talk about the year’s most over-used words: selfies, twerking, hashtags, etc… I’m middle-aged now, so admittedly not so hip. I try though, usually with sequins or glitter. But I can’t even do any of these over-popularized things right, probably because you can’t bedazzle a hashtag.

I try, and I fail. I apparently have T. Rex arms. I only discovered this deformity when selfies became popular. I can’t take a successful selfie. My arms are just too short. I’m not kidding. And twerking–please. I can’t even Zumba, and you want me to do what?! I’d surely throw my back out again. I think I’m missing an essential joint or two to be able to twerk, but I’m not missing the essential self-respect and common sense that keeps me from being a complete asshat. And hashtags…I have never been delusional enough to believe I was that interesting for anyone to follow my random thoughts and daily activities so my microblogging presence is pretty barren. Plus I honestly have a hard time reading words sans spaces. It takes me a few seconds to re-read what that hashtag is really trying to say. So it’s just not worth it for me.

Mostly though, my difficulty writing an end-of-year post is that I don’t do this sort of thing. I mean I have never reflected at the end of each year about the ups and downs. I have never compiled a list of resolutions for the next year. I don’t believe in things like that. I don’t believe in creating artificial moments in time for self-reflection or self-improvement–I don’t wait for one day to start. I do what resonates when what feels like the time is right. And one of the reasons I’m such a pain in the ass in general is because I’m in a perpetual state of self-reflection. There is no on/off switch to this brain of mine, much like there is no volume control to me.

So I’m back to trying to write a bookend post for the year for you. I keep coming back to the thought that it’s been a busy, good, hard, unexpected year. I dare say most everyone’s 2013 consisted of much of the same–some family issues, ending or redefining some relationships while deepening others, medical issues of some sort, financial stressors, some moments of pure joy and amazement, some “WTF?!” moments, some successes to celebrate, a great pair of shoes for a steal. I think most people can say there was a lot to be grateful for, a lot of lessons learned, some hardships, and a look towards what the next year will bring. I think this summarizes the end of each year for most of us. So I didn’t think there was much to write about in a post–there was nothing different or newsworthy to announce.

So what to say, what to say. I’m grateful for every moment of 2013, for every smile and tear and literal headache. I have no regrets, but I do wish I had gotten my motorcycle license instead of kicked out of class, and I do wish it took something a little less drastic than a traumatic brain injury to teach me to be kind and gentle to myself. But otherwise, it was a really lovely year. I lived it bravely and authentically and vulnerably. I tried many new things, failing at most of them but enjoying each moment. I’ve deepened relationships and forged new ones that have enhanced my soul and widened my life. I’ve experienced more moments of just being, of just breathing.

And I guess that’s what has made all the difference. That’s what I keep coming back to–the ability to have lived 2013 in the way that I did, and being so grateful for all of that, and who I am, comes back to the breathing and the being. And as I’m writing this, I realize this was a really peaceful year for me, even in the midst of all of life’s events and stressors–it wasn’t an easy year by any means. And as I’m writing this, I realize too that this post is not only all about me (not unusual) but apparently for me too in my self-reflection. Sorry, I have no inspiration or words of wisdom or even funny stories for you that come out of this introspection. You’ve scrolled all the way down to come up empty. Sorry, I really did try, but you’d walk off a bit irritated if I simply implored you to just breathe and be.

So I wish you peace. I wish you many moments of peace and joy in the next year. I cannot wish you only the best, because it is from life’s hardships and hurts that peace and joy rises. So I wish you many breaths from which peace is born.

Posted in Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness, spirituality | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Members Only

Posted on December 25, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

2013-12-24 23.03.30

We spend the Christmas holiday with my immediate family every year. I took the kids to Christmas Eve mass at my parents’ parish this year. En route, my son asked, “Are we members there?”

I told him no, his grandparents are, but we are not. He then proceeded to ask if we needed to be members to attend services. I said no, we’re welcome to celebrate Mass there.

“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t think there should be membership at all. It’s not like you are special if you’re a member of the church or not. You’re no better than anyone else. It’s not like you get a front row seat to God or anything. Anyone should be able to go to church and listen about God and talk to God. It’s not fair if only certain people can go to the house of God. Everyone should be able to feel God’s love.”

I’m not sure there’s really anything I need to add to that. He’s right. You’re no better than anyone else–we’re all in this together, this thing called life; and we’re all deserving of the love and attention of whatever Higher Power or force you believe in. And if you don’t believe in a Higher Power, we’re still all in this together, and no one’s better than anyone else. And we’re all deserving of unconditional love.

I was going to explain the ins and outs of registering as a parish member, but then I stopped myself. Because I dare say his train of thought goes beyond religion or spirituality as well. Any organizational or societal structure that imparts the illusion that you’re special or afforded special rights or entitlements due to membership or other form of elitism is just false. You’re no better than anyone else.

This Christmas season, I send you peace and joy from our ordinary house of love.

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The Lonely Cheese

Posted on December 19, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

Swiss cheese

My seven-year-old daughter recently wrote a short story to submit to a Young Authors contest in our county:

There was a lonely cheese. He lived in a little town. Everybody in the little town was happy. Except Cheese. He went home and took a nap. He woke up. Except when he woke up, he fell in love and lived happily ever after.

He fell in love with a girl. Her name was Ashley. The girl liked him too. Ashley said hi. Cheese said hi too. They were friends. They had a sleepover at Ashley’s house. Ashley is cheese too. She is American cheese. Cheese is Swiss cheese. They had fun together. Together they played games.

They had a wonderful time together. They went home together, and went home and slept.

The end.

I honestly didn’t like the story at first–I thought it sad that a child that young would think the key to happiness is to be coupled. And that being coupled seemed to solve everything–“happily ever after.” I know, you’re wondering if I’m bitter much. Not too much…My friend pointed out that my daughter understands there’s great joy and happiness to being coupled, and that’s not a bad thing. She pointed out that my daughter understands the basis for good, healthy relationships–being polite, having fun together, being friends. And that she understands two people can be very different and still have a wonderful time together.

I asked my daughter if she understood what “lonely” meant. She said, “Lonely is when you lose the person you want to play with. When you want a certain someone to be there for you and she’s not there anymore.”

I pointed out to her that there are other people she can play with, there are other people who are there for her. I pointed out that she can always meet new people too. She said simply, “It’s not the same. Lonely is when you want that certain person, not someone else, and she’s not there.”

Well then. Nothing gets by that girl. She gets things, even when she doesn’t always have the words for them. I’ve always said she feels more than the average bear–her feelings are more intense,  like she’s dipped in Technicolor. She feels her way through life. She just knows. At seven, she knows the basics of relationships, and what the crux of being lonely really is. I wonder, when she’s older, who will take her breath away, who will take her Lonely away? Who will be her Swiss cheese? I know I shouldn’t be sad for this story–we’ve all visited Lonely Town. I hope it won’t be an extended stay for her.

Posted in Dating, Parenting, Relationships | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus

Posted on December 16, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

2013-12-15 22.31.41

I found this essay last year and I bookmarked it to use when my oldest child asks for the truth about Santa, because I knew this gig wouldn’t last much longer. This wise writer, Martha Brockenbrough, answered her daughter who asked if mom was Santa:

Dear Lucy,
Thank you for your letter. You asked a very good question: “Are you Santa?”
I know you’ve wanted the answer to this question for a long time, and I’ve had to give it careful thought to know just what to say.
The answer is no. I am not Santa. There is no one Santa.
I am the person who fills your stockings with presents, though. I also choose and wrap the presents under the tree, the same way my mom did for me, and the same way her mom did for her. (And yes, Daddy helps, too.)
I imagine you will someday do this for your children, and I know you will love seeing them run down the stairs on Christmas morning. You will love seeing them sit under the tree, their small faces lit with Christmas lights.
This won’t make you Santa, though.
Santa is bigger than any person, and his work has gone on longer than any of us have lived. What he does is simple, but it is powerful. He teaches children how to have belief in something they can’t see or touch.
It’s a big job, and it’s an important one. Throughout your life, you will need this capacity to believe: in yourself, in your friends, in your talents and in your family. You’ll also need to believe in things you can’t measure or even hold in your hand. Here, I am talking about love, that great power that will light your life from the inside out, even during its darkest, coldest moments.
Santa is a teacher, and I have been his student, and now you know the secret of how he gets down all those chimneys on Christmas Eve: he has help from all the people whose hearts he’s filled with joy.
With full hearts, people like Daddy and me take our turns helping Santa do a job that would otherwise be impossible.
So, no. I am not Santa. Santa is love and magic and hope and happiness. I’m on his team, and now you are, too.
I love you and I always will.
Mama

This year, my son is almost there. He’s 10 and the question is at the tip of his tongue. But each time he opens his mouth to ask, I can see it in his eyes–he hesitates and wants to believe. He asks questions about how practical this whole Santa thing is (Isn’t that a fake beard? How can there be so many Santas at so many breakfasts and malls? Why doesn’t he Ho Ho Ho? Where did he park the sleigh?), and there, in his wide, brown eyes, are his pleas to give him the answer he wants to hear. So I lie to my child. I make something up and he chooses to believe it, to believe me, to believe in magic, to believe in something bigger.

I was reminded the other day that we usually find what we’re looking for (except when I’m late and looking for my car keys). He’s looking for me to reaffirm that there really is goodness in this world, pure joy and happiness, unconditional love. That there is universal truth in the love that wraps around all of us like a blanket. He watches Santa’s tracks on NORAD and he is thrilled to see that so many children around the world are blessed with happiness and magic, to see that others believe.

I’m looking for much of the same–to believe in hope, happiness, magic, unconditional love for myself, for my children, for all of us. So I have no problem willfully lying to my child about this. I will give my son what he is looking for. This is, however, becoming problematic for me. This year, the children’s letters to Santa included not only things they wanted, but also a long list of gift requests for me, all our neighbors, and many other family members. So to ensure they continue to believe in Santa, I’ve had to essentially double my gift buying. And on Christmas Eve under the cover of darkness, I will need to prowl through the neighborhood leaving gifts on doorsteps. Speaking of having hope, that night my hope will be a neighbor does not mistaken me for a burglar.

But what I love about the letter to Lucy is that it not only implores her to have hope, but teaches resilience–that when our hope is gone, we’re in charge of giving hope to others, providing love and happiness to others and to ourselves. We find what we’re looking for, we don’t always find what we hope for. So it is our responsibility to make positive changes in this world and join the team of hope. Hope for better days. Hope for fairness and equality and justice. Hope for loving and peaceful and satisfying lives. We need to believe. We need to believe in and trust in ourselves, in our abilities, in our decisions, in our innate worthiness. We need to believe in and trust others, in their kindness and support, and innate goodness and humanity.

My son still hopes and believes. I’m well aware this may be the last year he believes in Santa as a concrete entity. But I believe he will always be on the team of hope. He so wants to continue believing that this year, he’s offering Santa a salad alongside the cookies he’s baked him. He wants Santa to live a long, healthy life, and even a kid believes eating too many cookies can’t be good for you.

Posted in Parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Blog of the Year 2013

Posted on December 15, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

blog2013 2013 has been an interesting year, with a lot of adventures, mishaps, joy, sadness, and struggles along the way that have provided for a lot of um, opportunities for growth. As the year closes, I reflect back on a year that I never could have predicted. I have so many things to be grateful for, and one of them is a nomination by You’re Just a Dumbass! for the Blog of the Year 2013 award! You all know by now how oftentimes, in my head, I am still 17 years old. That said, how can you NOT love a blogger with that name?! And then on top of that, she likes my blog, she really, really likes it! Ha! Clearly, she is wise and smart! Seriously, she has a great blog–she’s got great positive energy and writes some great stuff.Check her out!

The ‘rules’ for this award are simple:

1. Select another blog(s) who deserve the award

2. Write a blog post and tell us about the blog(s) you have chosen – there’s no minimum or maximum number of blogs required – and ‘present’ them with their award

3. Include a link back to this page ‘Blog of the Year 2013’ Award and provide these ‘rules’ in your post (please don’t alter the rules or the badges!)

4. Let the blog(s) you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share the ‘rules’ with them

5. You can now also join our Facebook group – click ‘like’ on this page ‘Blog of the Year 2013’ Award Facebook group and then you can share your blog with an even wider audience.

6. As a winner of the award – please add a link back to the blog that presented you with the award – and then proudly display the award on your blog and sidebar … and start collecting stars… Here are my nominations in no particular order:

http://doodlesinvigorate.wordpress.com/

http://notyourtypicalsinglegal.wordpress.com/

http://rarasaur.wordpress.com/

http://thepublicblogger.com/

Wild One Within

http://mommyverbs.wordpress.com/

tenderheartmusings

http://thereporterandthegirl.com/

Serious Thoughts Taken Not So Seriously

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Best Day of My Life

Posted on December 12, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

Best Day of My Life, American Authors

“This is gonna be the best day of my life…Everything is looking up”

Oh the irony these days…But our family loves music. We love singing on top of our lungs and tapping our hands on any surface and dancing our butts off (well, at least La Chica and I do). We are always off-key and have near-perfect absence of both pitch and rhythm, but music makes us happy. So we sing. Because it makes us happy, never mind those within earshot. My daughter tells me she loves it when I sing; that in fact if she had money, she’d buy me singing lessons. I suspect she has been blessed with the passive-aggressive gene.

So you know I’ve been in a bah-humbug mood of late, just generally grumpy. It’s been a cold season of growth so far for many reasons. Then the other day a song came on the radio while I was driving, in bad weather, stuck in traffic, late for the kids’ music lessons. “Oh turn it up, turn it up!” they implore as they sing along.

It’s an upbeat, catchy tune by American Authors, “Best Day of My Life.” I tend to naturally gravitate towards NOT-so-upbeat songs. Everything is looking up? Oh really? Last time I checked….oh wait, hold that thought, they want me to sing along too. OK, fine.

I hear it calling outside my window
I feel it in my soul (soul)
The stars were burning so bright
The sun was out ’til midnight
I say we lose control (control)

This is gonna be the best day of my life
My li-i-i-i-i-ife
Oo-o-o-o-o
This is gonna be the best day of my life
My li-i-i-i-i-ife
This is gonna be, this is gonna be, this is gonna be
The best day of my life
Everything is looking up, everybody up now
This is gonna be the best day of my li-ife
My li-i-i-i-i-ife

Those Oo-o-o-o-o’s were killing me, I didn’t feel very jazz-hand-y. But then it suddenly hit me. Yes! This IS the best day of my life! I can make every day the best day of my life. Of course. I feel it in my soul. Nothing remarkable or spectacular or sparkly happened today, but today IS the best day of my life if I decide to make it the best. day. ever. Oo-o-o-o-o…

But all the possibilities
No limits just epiphanies
Wo-oah-oah-oah-oah-oh 

I’m never gonna look back
Woah, never gonna give it up

Life–it keeps happening, minute by minute. The good, the bad, the ugly, the spaces in between, and all the glitter glue that binds it all together. All of it makes a gorgeous, textured mosaic that is life, all of these broken bits pieced together. I can be sad AND appreciate how wonderful life is. I can be grumpy IN a beautiful life. And I’m gonna make this the best day of my life. I’m not gonna give it up. Because tomorrow’s gonna be the best day of my life too. Oo-o-o-o-o…

Posted in Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Snow Day Surprise

Posted on December 10, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

IMG_0177

Some moments I don’t know who he is. He looks like my son, wears my son’s clothes, sleeps in my son’s bed; but every now and then, I look up and don’t know who he is. Today is one of those days. This morning he woke up giddy with excitement that it was Snow Day #2.

Yesterday he spent most of the day outside sledding and playing in the snow. This morning, he begged to go outside. To shovel. The entire cul de sac. The boy, who up to that moment had been known to be The Laziest Boy on Earth, had suddenly turned into a boy with initiative, empathy and industry. He had no entrepreneurial aspirations in the hopes of neighbors paying him. He just woke up and decided his mission for the morning was to be helpful.

I honestly didn’t entirely trust him–I watched from the window, expecting him to shovel a bit and then give up and play, or just lose focus entirely once he was outside and pull the sleds out immediately. Or somehow manage to move snow from the lawn to the driveway, which is not unheard of when he’s around. I expected him to be my son, what I knew of my son.

I was so proud of him, and who he’s evidently turning into. He worked up quite a sweat and wouldn’t come in for hot chocolate until he was completely done. (See below. He didn’t get run over by a car or reindeer. He literally lay down to rest.)

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I am pleasantly surprised by this side of him (the kind, empathic, hard-working side–not the one who sleeps on pavements). And I’m reminded that no matter how well you know someone, no matter how long or how intimately, he’s bound to surprise you at some point. In good ways and bad ways. I’m reminded we should always look for the good in people, to expect the unexpected. He may surprise you and rise to the occasion, or show he’s really been listening to all the lessons you’ve been teaching (read: nagging). You never know. I’m reminded we shouldn’t always assume we know who someone is, what he’ll do, or his motivations.

And I’m reminded there are many iterations of who we are. Through time we change. And there are many sides to us. I expected my son to behave like my son has behaved for the last 10 years. He sure showed me.

Then there’s his sister, who remained in the foyer for most of the morning. She meant to go outside to play so she geared up with her snow bib, hat, coat, gloves and boots. However, she picked a fight with both her gloves and her underwear. Sadly, after much screaming and many tears, she somehow managed to lose both fights. This is the girl I know. Sometimes there’s no surprise.

Posted in Parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Today Is The Day

Posted on December 5, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

2013-12-05 08.50.51 (1)

By now everyone knows I throw a pretty damned good pity party. (I also throw really good real parties too, so check back with me another time.) It didn’t start off as a pity party, but you know what happens when After Hours gets out of hand. It started off with the appropriate notion to properly grieve the loss of someone important in my life. And I did. And I am. And I wanted to walk a delicate balance of fully feeling the emotions and hurts but not wallowing in it, and of not being too busy with distractions or dismissing the emotions in furtive denial. Mostly I wanted the sadness to go away, and I know you can’t put something down until you fully process it.

A friend pointed out that sadness doesn’t go away. It changes. But see, I hate bad feelings. Because they feel bad (Please note: Nothing gets by me). So really, my expectation was for the sadness to completely go away–that I could put it down and walk away from it. I’m practicing how to cope with negative feelings in more effective ways these days. I am so fortunate to have so many loving friends reaching out, offering their shoulders to cry on, ears to hear my woes, arms to cradle me, bar stools to drink on, cases of beer to fill the fridge. In the past, one of my Super Powers was Stoicism, so I used to say, “Thank you, but I’m OK.” And I would grin and bear it (and die a little bit inside), because that’s what I thought Strength looked like. Now, I understand Strength is reaching out to loved ones and saying, “Help.” Sometimes I also say, “More beer, please.” There’s no shame in either.

So now I reach out and make things super awkward with friends. The super part is I’ve learned to reach out for help in my most vulnerable times. Here’s the awkward part though–I say, “I need help. But I don’t want to talk about it.” Thank God my friends already know I’m a bit um, quirky and not entirely appropriate. Because they patiently humor me and say “OK, I’m here when you’re ready.” I tell them it hurts too much for me to talk about right now. I will. But not today. Today is not the day. Just come and babysit me today please.

So each day that has passed, I have said “Today is not the day.” One day I will be able to remember all the fun times we had together. But today is not the day. One day I will tell you about the argument we had that night. But today is not the day. One day I will tell you how I’m feeling about this. But today is not the day. One day I will tell you how confused, blindsided, and surprised I was. But today is not the day. I wanted the sadness to abate a bit. I wanted the sharp pain throbbing in my chest to dull a bit. I wanted to be able to process this and pack it away. I wanted to get through a sentence without crying. Today is not the day.

Then a friend reminded me that I am fierce and I don’t flinch:
Joy is the place we stumble upon when we look our deepest pain and greatest fear directly in the eyes, and we refuse to flinch. It’s the place we discover when we decide pain and fear aren’t going to be the final word. It’s the place where we anchor ourselves in something more than the vicissitudes of our material existence. It’s the place of freedom inside every situation, where we realize the things that are happening to us are losing their power to control us and define us.
~Dr. Kelley Flanagan Blog: Untangled

I realized I am tired of playing the role of The Girl With the Broken Heart. I realized sadness doesn’t get packed away in a suitcase and placed in the attic. Losses don’t just go away. They change–they change meaning, intensity, frequency. But it’s like love, once you feel it, it’s there. It’s real and becomes part of you and the fabric of your being. It will always be there. So I decided even though I still can’t make it through an hour without crying, Today would be the Day. I would share my vulnerabilities with my loved ones, because I do not flinch and I will not allow pain to be the final word. I can’t wait for and look for a Tomorrow on the horizon. If I don’t make Today the Day, I relinquish control over my life and allow life events to define me. That’s not who I want to be.

So the funny thing is, when I decided Today would be the Day, and I opened up to friends and reached out to him to make peace, I expected to feel better. I don’t. Sadness, Grief, Loss, it never really goes away. But I know it will eventually move from one place in my heart and life to occupy another space. Today is the Day to start moving him into another chamber of my heart. Today is the Day I remember who I am and who I want to be.

Posted in Dating, Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness, Relationships | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments