...hOw cAn i bE sUrE?...

How do I know that a person really cares? How can I be sure? This is how I KNOW I have a friend that cares. These things make me sure...

My friend brings out the best in me. I am a klutz. I am always late. My friend taught me balance...both physical balance and balance in my personal life. My friend embraces all the qualities that make me who I am...and lets me know that even still...I AM okay...and that there will be someone waiting for me when I arrive...late...as usual...that will still be glad to see me and greet me with a smile. I do everything in the most awkward fashion and I lose my temper...a lot. My friend trained me to be "less awkward" (in the gym at least) and even made me good at some of my endeavors there. My friend is my "outlet" when I am mad...or sad for that matter...a safe haven where I can vent and share my disappointments without harsh judgement. Most of the time, I say the wrong thing...most of the time and I doubt myself and my abilities. My friend treats me like I am good...and therefore I am. My friend tells me that I am capable...and so I go and do. My friend tells me that I am strong...and through him I became so. My friend knows a lot, but still asks my advice...this tells me that I have something to give...that I am smarter than I thought. My friend tells me that I can...and this gives me courage. These things tell me that I have a true friend...someone that cares.

I know that my friend has to go. It makes me sad, but I know that our paths crossed for a purpose. I know it was meant to be. Anyone can find a person to spend time with...to laugh with...to have fun with...but finding a person that touches your life...that leaves you better than they found you...is a gift from God. In this, I find joy.

...wHy iS iT sO hArD tO LeT gO?...

"WHY CAN'T WE GET ALL THE PEOPLE TOGETHER IN THE WORLD THAT WE REALLY LIKE AND THEN JUST STAY TOGETHER? I GUESS THAT WOULDN'T WORK. SOMEONE WOULD LEAVE. SOMEONE ALWAYS LEAVES. THEN WE WOULD HAVE TO SAY GOOD BYE. I HATE GOOD BYES. I KNOW WHAT I NEED. I NEED MORE HELLOS." ~Charles M. Schulz



These are the thoughts in my mind that cause the pain in my heart...

Why can't I say goodbye without a second thought? Why is it that I tell myself that I'm okay...and I AM...for a LONG time...and then suddenly...one day...I'm NOT anymore? Why do I try so hard to hold on when I know letting go is necessary...inevitable? I knew this was coming. I thought I was okay. I was not sad. What happened?

I'll tell you what happened...

We laughed. We talked. We ran. He gave me advice and I returned the favor. We were serious and we joked. We raced. I told him my fears and he shared his worries. What happened was friendship in the truest form. And THAT...is what makes it hard to anticipate a good bye...again.

...LiFe LeSSoNs fRoM sAnD DoLLaRs...

My last post was about my wonderful morning on the beach with my son...and how much he taught me with his search for sea shells. It seems that the lessons were not over. I talked about finding sand dollars and how surprised I was by their "natural" appearance. The night before we left the beach, my husband and I were packing...not just our clothes...but beach chairs and sand toys and gathering all the miscellaneous items strewn around the villa. As I picked up the bag of broken shells, I saw the sand dollars that my son and I found that morning on the beach. They looked so gross. I had done some research online and gathered instructions on how to take the ugly, hairy, brown sand dollars and make them perfect and white, but I wondered if it was worth all the effort. I also knew that I would have to put them in a ziploc bag to bring them home and dreaded the smell that would accumulate inside. Still, I promised my son that we would make them beautiful when we got home. I could not look into those brown eyes and tell him that I had left them...so I dropped them in the bag and sealed the top. When we arrived home from vacation, I took them out of the plastic bag and choked down the urge to gag as the aroma of dead fish followed. I held my nose and started the process of beautifying our sand dollars. I put a mixture of water and bleach in a bowl and dropped them in. The change was amazing to watch. Immediately...the hairy sand dollars were smooth and the brown and green began to fade. I repeated the process...knowing that if I dipped them in bleach too many times...they would become weak and break apart. Two of them disintegrated immediately. One that was especially small and gross was beautiful...perfect. The other two...one small and one large...were still slightly discolored, but mostly white. I was amazed by the beauty that was underneath all that dirt and hair. I immediately thought about how glad I was that I took the time to bring them home and clean them...glad that I endured the smell...glad that I have a little boy that still sees the good...the beauty...the potential in everything and everyone around him and that holds me to the same standard.

My amazement turned into the thought that many times, people are a lot like those sand dollars. Some people are easy to like. They are desirable...strong...beautiful...like the clean smooth sand dollars that made it through the process. There are other people that we are not naturally drawn to. They have limitations and are weak...like the sand dollars that broke when I placed them in the bleach. And still others may repulse us...they are ugly and have a rough exterior. We wonder...much like I wondered about those dirty sand dollars the night before we left...if they are worth the discomfort and time it will take to see who they REALLY are underneath all that.

I learned that people and things are not always what them seem at first glance. If we don't take the time or we are repulsed by appearances, we may never experience the joy and beauty waiting to be found. I also learned that most of my joy came from working to improve the appearance of those sand dollars. Those sand dollars mean something to me because I took the time to go through the process of cleaning them MYSELF...and through that process...and the miraculous end result...I learned some important life lessons.

...beAutY iS iN tHe eYe oF tHe beHoLdeR...

"BEAUTY IS NO QUALITY IN THINGS THEMSELVES: IT EXISTS MERELY IN THE MIND WHICH CONTEMPLATES THEM." -David Hume

There are moments in life that only happen once...the first time you hold your baby in your arms...your first kiss...the first time you witness something truly spectacular...with your own eyes. For some people...that "something spectacular" is one of the wonders of the world or a beautiful sunset...for others...the simplest of things can seem spectacular. I witnessed this firsthand this morning.

My son spent hours collecting pieces of broken shells yesterday. I kept telling him that those were not shells...that they were just broken pieces...but he did not care. He continued to collect them like treasures. My husband and daughters were going on an early morning horse ride that my son is too young to go on, so I told him that he and I would go out on the beach early...at sunrise...because that's when you find REAL treasures on the beach. I got him up at 6:30 A.M. and we headed out close to 7. He was excited. In fact, he was bugging me to go the whole time I was brushing my teeth. We got our pails...and shovels...and set out on our treasure hunt.

The beach is an amazing place early. It is like a completely different world...not ANYTHING like it is during the day. The pelicans are diving for their morning breakfast...men are fishing...it's quiet and peaceful...everything looks new and refreshed. We saw lots of cool stuff. We saw a man fishing that caught a stingray. My son got to see it flutter and see the big barb on it's tail. Another man caught a small shark and let J watch him take the hook out and throw it back out in the ocean. Then, there was a big shell that we came upon...the shell of a horseshoe crab. A lady told him that they are one of the oldest creatures...that they date back to prehistoric times. He touched the shell and we continued on. An older woman showed us how to find sand dollars coming up out of the sand. We got 4 small ones and 1 medium sized one. I was excited, but also surprised how dirty and hairy and smelly they are when you find them. I expected them to be smooth and white and beautiful. I didn't know until I got back to the villa and did some research that they have to be cleaned and preserved.
I had so much fun this morning on the beach, but still...with all we saw...and all the shells we came upon...intact...my son continued to collect broken pieces of shells. I caught myself feeling frustrated...not outwardly...but I couldn't help but wonder why he kept picking up what seemed like trash to me. As we walked along and he found another piece of shell, he would tell me how beautiful it was...how special...how lucky he was to find it. No matter how many broken shells he found...no matter how similar they were...he found something unique...beautiful about each and every one.

I had my own "spectacular moment" and I learned an important lesson this morning on the beach. I will cherish the things that I learned at the feet of my child. I have to wonder how many times in my life I have walked past things that seem broken...ugly...worthless. I wonder how much joy and how much beauty that I have overlooked in my quest for perfection. My 6 yr old taught me to stop overlooking the beauty that is at my feet everyday. He does not see the shells as they are...broken. He sees them as they could be...as they once were. There is beauty all around me that I never see.

...i uNdeRsTaNd...

“YOUR WORST DAYS ARE NEVER SO BAD THAT YOU ARE BEYOND THE REACH OF GOD'S GRACE, AND YOUR BEST DAYS ARE NEVER SO GOOD THAT YOU'RE BEYOND THE NEED OF GOD'S GRACE.”
--------------------------Anonymous--------------------------

Everyone has those days. Some of us just have more than others. When I say "those days", I'm referring to days where it seems no matter how hard you try...you can't do anything right...no matter how hard you work...it isn't hard enough...no matter how nice you try to be...the favor is not returned...and then in the end when all else fails, and you decide to ignore it...to keep putting one foot in front of the other...and to try and stay positive or to hold back the tears...it becomes impossible to do so and you suffer yet another failure. "YOU'RE A LOSER!" Those are the words I hear in my head on days like that...days like today.

I'm trying so hard to do something. It's really difficult for me to put myself out there...to step outside of my comfort zone...to make mistakes and know there are more to come, but I know that growth and change can only come if I continue to try...no matter how hard it may seem. When I try and I fail in these times or when I let other people down in the process...it is indescribable...crushing even. I've NEVER wished for fame or fortune...I've NEVER expected special treatment...I just want to feel loved...like I'm worth the air I breathe. It sounds dramatic...negative...exaggerated. A friend once said that I am the most negative person he's ever met. I couldn't defend myself...I know it is true. Even still...he compliments me and reminds me that "I CAN..." It builds me up. That's why I call him a friend.

So many times...things are not as they appear...or seem to be. Anyone who saw me today...standing...laughing...cheering...talking probably thought I was feeling confident...comfortable. I wasn't. I'm a pretty good actress when I need to be. I was scared and unsure...nervous...but I pushed forward. I thought that I had done it...that I had been successful to a certain degree. I was aware of my shortcomings, but still I tried to believe that I did well,...and then I was made aware. It was like a Peanuts cartoon when an adult speaks. The criticism was clear...all the other words were background noise...unrecognizable. I was holding on to the hope that in the end, I would hear "good job"...that amongst all the "wrongs" there was a "right"...at least ONE. No such luck...not today.

I was told that I don't understand. If only he knew. I don't need details to understand. I understand. He is the one that does not understand. He would regret his words if he knew my secrets...if he knew how I truly DO...understand.

...eMbrAciNg LiFe...

I try to control everything...I worry too much...I always look behind me because I'm too unsure to look ahead...I doubt my abilities...I hang on every word. This is not living. I need to stop covering my eyes and avoiding the roller coaster ride we call life. I need to throw my hands up and allow myself to feel the wind on my face and the thrill in my belly. I need to enjoy life.

...LeArNeD HeLpLeSsNesS...

I'm not an animal rights activist. I'm not an animal lover...or even an animal liker for that matter. I don't hate animals. I don't hurt animals. I just don't prefer to have a bunch of pets. I don't want to sleep with animals at night or have them sit in my lap. I'm perfectly fine with fur...I eat meat...and I love leather and snakeskin. I think it's safe to say I won't be joining a PETA protest anytime soon...so it goes without saying that I don't read much about "cruelty to animals". I didn't know how circus elephants are "trained" until last week. When I heard the process by which they are trained...it made me kinda sad for the elephants...but it also helped put some things in my life into perspective.

Obviously, elephants are very powerful animals...and much stronger than humans. They have the power to escape from the circus...it's just that they don't know it. The elephants are caught when they are very young and they are chained to strong stakes that are driven deep in the ground. They struggle and fight to free themselves but the chain is too strong. Eventually, the elephant realizes that it can't break free and it quits trying. From that day on, the elephant believes that it cannot free itself as soon as it feels any resistance at all. In fact, a circus elephant can be tied to a small flimsy stake with a thin piece if rope and it will not try to escape because it has been conditioned to believe that it is powerless. This is called "learned helplessness".

Elephants are not the only creatures that can be conditioned this way. Humans can as well. If a person is told how worthless they are...over and over and over again...soon they will believe that they are. If people tell you that "you can't"...or shouldn't...enough times...eventually you won't even try. I wonder if those elephants can ever be "untrained". I wonder if it's possible for them to realize their strength and their ability to go where they want to go. My guess would be that it isn't possible after a certain amount of time.

I've always felt like I can't...like I will fail. So many times I've behaved like a circus elephant. I have the power to tear free and do whatever I want to do, but I rarely try because I worry that I'll fail. As soon as I face resistance...I feel helpless. I worry that I have been conditioned to fail..to lose...to give up. Thinking about this makes me sad. I am so much better than I use to be...than I thought I could ever be. My friend gave me a gift. He brought things out in me that surprised me...glimpses of strength...moments of feeling like a winner. That is priceless. I think that just like the elephant...I will always have some small form of "learned helplessness" that holds me back at times. I can't change what has happened to me, but I CAN try hard to build other people up...to in a sense free them from the heavy chains before they learn to feel helpless. I especially want my kids to grow up feeling like their potential is limitless. I want them to realize the power that they each have within themselves. I want to teach them to fight against any resistance, because I don't ever want them to give up or feel helpless...like me.

...tHe bEsT oF Me...

My friend once said, "My music is the soundtrack of my life." I've often thought that it would be so cool to have music play in the background...as I go through my day...just like in the movies. Music is so powerful...it can enlighten...it can enrage...it can calm...it can motivate...it can bring out a whole range of emotions...and it can bring the most complicated situation into focus.

I like all kinds of music and I listen to music a lot. Everyday while I put on make up and do my hair...everyday when I do my cardio...everyday in the car...I listen to music. I'm going through some inner turmoil and confusion. I feel drained and I almost feel like I've forgotten who I am in my quest to become more. I was on the phone with my husband the other day and I said, "I just need a break...I just need to loosen the noose...". I immediately thought of a line in a song that I like to listen to when I workout..."The Best Of You" by The Foo Fighters. This song is truly the soundtrack of how I feel right now.

Once...a long time ago...when I was working out...my friend told me to jump up, grab the pull up bar, get my chin over, and hang with my legs straight for as long as I could. I did...and I struggled and winced and squirmed to keep my chin above the bar as soon as it got uncomfortable. Another trainer and his client were watching me. When I fell from the bar and got ready to try again, the other trainer said, "Don't screw up your face and wiggle your legs. When you do that, you take the energy that you need to hold yourself up and transfer it somewhere else." What a metaphor for life. I'm taking the energy that I NEED...to improve myself...and I'm using it to struggle in the attempt to "hang on"...when if I would let the pain and fear and frustration go...I would have what I need "to keep my chin up" and hang on a little longer. I've been giving away the best of me...

TODAY I'M TAKING IT BACK.

...mEnTaL pAraLySiS...

I remember the day...not so long ago...that my trainer tried to teach me an exercise...an Olympic lift...the Push Jerk. It's a complicated...advanced movement...one that is difficult to teach and even more difficult to learn. I stood there...feeling extreme pressure. I knew people were watching...and I had been given the instructions...over and over and over. I had failed...many times...and I was afraid. There are so many movements involved that my mind was racing...dip...drive up...open the hips...small jump...not too big...fall under the bar...full extension of the arms. I just stood there...mind racing...staring at myself in the mirror...no words...no movement. It seemed like forever and I knew I needed to go...to try again...to move. Suddenly, I almost felt as though I had stepped outside myself. I was thinking, "Why am I just standing here? Why can't I move?" I could see my trainer's face reflected in the mirror...puzzled look...dead silence. Eventually I did try...again...only to fail...again.

As I sat down to journal my training progress for the day...frustrated...I replayed those events in my mind. I tried to make sense of what had happened. I have never been frozen like that before. It literally felt like I was paralyzed...and in retrospect...I have come to realize that I WAS...paralyzed. I was thinking so hard and I was so scared...that I suffered from mental paralysis. I also realized that this was not the first time that this had happened...it was just the first time I had become aware of it.

I started reading the book, "A Return To Love" by Marianne Williamson. Yesterday, I came across a passage that reminded me of this experience and helped give me some better understanding of why this had happened to me. This is what it said...

"A lot of us know we have what it takes-the looks, the education, the talent, the credentials. But in certain areas, we're paralyzed. We're not stopped by something on the outside, but by something on the inside. Our oppression is internal. The government isn't holding us back, or hunger or poverty. We're not afraid we'll get sent to Siberia. We're just afraid, period. Our fear is free floating. We're afraid this isn't the right relationship or we're afraid it is. We're afraid they won't like us, or we're afraid they will. We're afraid of failure or we're afraid of success. We're afraid of dying young or we're afraid of growing old. We're more afraid of life than we are of death."

I was recently given an opportunity...a chance to do something. I have stressed out...cried...and been excited by the possibilities that it could bring. I have known that it won't be easy...but I have also known that it is the right thing to do. It's just that...I was paralyzed...with fear.

It's hard to step into the dark...not knowing what I'll encounter...but to reach the light at the end of the tunnel...I know that I have to walk through that dark tunnel. I'm really scared, but I'm not paralyzed anymore. After the encouragement of a dear friend...I took the first step. It's dark and I'm nervous and I don't know what to expect...but I am trying my best to focus on the light and move towards it. I am fighting the inner voices that tell me that I can't...that say "What will others think?". I know that as long as I can take the smallest steps...as long as I can "wiggle my toes"...I'm not paralyzed...and that gives me hope.

...iT tAkEs PraCtiCe NOT tO qUiT...

"IN EVERY ENDEAVOR, PEOPLE WHO CONCENTRATE AND REFUSE TO QUIT BECOME THE ELITE." -MARK TWIGHT

Quitting is natural. When I have faced a trial that doesn't seem to resolve itself quickly enough...my first instinct...is to quit. When I feel pain or suffer defeat...my natural response is to quit. I've been a quitter for most of my life. If I was scared...I quit. If I was hurt...I quit. If things got too tough..I quit.

My daughter's swim team coach once said, "After each race, your child should go to their coach before they go to you. The coach will tell your child something positive...something that needs to be corrected...and end with another positive comment." He continued to say, "We are not criticizing your child to make them feel bad, but to help correct their mistakes. We do this because I believe that a mistake that is not corrected, becomes a habit and a habit is harder to correct than a mistake." I think quitting was a habit for me. I know I never intended to become a quitter...but I was...for a long time.

I'm not a quitter anymore. I'm not a quitter because I practice not quitting everyday. They say that "Practice makes perfect." Just as a pianist does not play perfectly the first time they sit at a piano...I did not learn to endure the very moment that I made the decision to stop being a quitter. I don't remember one specific decision. I just know that little by little...I've learned that I can endure...I don't NEED to quit.

Everyday I practice. I practice NOT quitting. When I am sad and I want to climb in bed...when I want to quit my life...I get up and put one foot in front of the other. When I am scared...when I want to quit stepping outside of my comfort zone...I do what I can to face my fears. When someone disappoints me or hurts me...when I want to quit feeling used and close myself off to protect my feelings and my heart...I try to reach out and open up...one more time. When I workout and I feel pain...when I want to quit pushing and stop...I take one more step and go for one more minute.

I'm NOT perfect. Sometimes, I still quit...but I'm getting better. Each time I persevere, I am stronger. Each time I practice not quitting...I become less of a quitter.

...aT hOmE iN mY hEaRt...

My friend and I saw each other the other day for the first time in many months. I had looked forward to seeing him with nervous anticipation. I was nervous about what it would be like after so much time had passed. I was afraid that we would be different...that conversation would be a struggle. I couldn't have been more wrong!

From the moment I saw him across the room...sitting at a table in our favorite Mexican restaurant...I felt comfortable. We talked. We laughed. It was as if no time had passed. We were able to pick up where we left off. That really did something for my heart and soul. As I've said before...I don't have many friends. I may be nice or polite or even friendly towards people...but I only let a few "special" people into my life...my heart. I have missed my friend like crazy. Something reminds me of him almost everyday...a song...a trail...an exercise...many things trigger memories. He's gone and won't be back...I settled that with myself a long time ago. He's happy where he's at...so I will put MY feelings aside and be happy for him too.

I don't know if I'm really dumb...or if I'm getting really old...or if I'm just very perceptive...but I seem to be learning more and more about life these days. After worrying about and anticipating our meeting for no reason...after having a lunch that was heaven to me (good food and one of my favorite people to share it with)...after driving away...still smiling 5 minutes down the highway...I realized that people may leave us physically, but if they are truly our friends...they never really go away because we keep them in our hearts.

When my friend called me a couple of months ago and said he was on his way "home" from Taiwan...I immediately thought that he was coming back...here...because I thought of THIS as home. When I realized that he was referring to a place very far away...a place he now calls home...I have to admit, it made me a little sad. I understood him staying there, but couldn't handle him calling it "home". The word home means a lot to me. Home is a familiar place...a place filled with people that know our stories...our history. Home is a place we can come to at the end of a long, hard day...for rest...a safe haven...a place to recover and renew. Home is a place where we can be our true selves. Our home is a place where we can rejoice when something good happens...we can sing in the shower...and jump for joy on the bed. The walls of our home keep our secrets. It is our sanctuary.

What I realized the other day, was that...when I am with my friend, my soul is relaxed and my heart is at home. His mailing address is not what matters. What matters...is that regardless of where he lives...or where he calls home...I'm secure knowing that a part of him is always here with me. If he wants to call Montana home...it's really okay...because he is always at home in my heart.

...like the night before Christmas...

There are certain times in everyone's life that are memorable...times that are universally memorable. Christmas...getting married...having a baby...the first day of school...these are a few that come to my mind when I think of memorable times. They are times of excitement... nervousness... happiness... and anticipation.

I'm not a patient person. I don't like to wait...and I'm not one for surprises. I like to know how and when things are going to go down...so that I can prepare...so that I can get rid of some of that dreaded anticipation. I hate the way my mind races...trying to figure out what will happen. I worry about the outcome. Will it be as great as my mind has built it up to be? Will Santa bring what I wanted? Will my baby be healthy? Will the other kids at school like me? Will I be happy? What will I do if I'm not?

I realized tonight...that ridiculously enough...not only do I try to plan every detail so that things go the way I think they should...I try to plan my reaction...in advance. The anticipation sucks...but as much as I dread it...the anticipation is part of what makes these times memorable...exciting...great.

Tonight feels kind of like the night before Christmas for me. I'm so excited. The day that I have been waiting for...for a month...is here. I'm so happy. I will get something that I have wanted...something that I had given up on. I'm so scared. If this is not as good as I hope it will be...I'm not sure how I will react. I'd like to say that I can't control it...que sera sera...that life will go on...that it doesn't matter...but I'm not so sure about that.

My friend...the one I have missed terribly since he left months ago...is here...in town. We are going to meet for lunch tomorrow at our favorite restaurant. I have been looking forward to tomorrow ALL WEEK! I can't wait to see him with my eyes. Sometimes, I almost feel like I am forgetting what he looks like. I can't wait to talk...to laugh...he ALWAYS makes me laugh.

Today I started to feel nervous...which I didn't expect. When we talk...when we are together...I am always comfortable. Unfortunately, the anticipation is starting to mess with my mind. I'm afraid we won't have anything to talk about. I'm afraid he is seeing me out of obligation..not desire...that he will be in a rush to get done and leave. I'm afraid that maybe he will have changed...maybe he won't think I'm so great anymore...that things will be awkward or not go well. I'm afraid that if things don't go well...that I will be sad...REALLY sad.

My mind plays tricks on me, but my heart is different. My heart reminds me that he is my friend...a true friend...one that is there NO MATTER WHAT. My heart remembers how happy I am when we spend time together...when we talk...when we laugh. My heart tells me not to worry...to enjoy the moment that I have waited for. It would be "easy" in a way to give up or brace myself for the worst, but I won't. I will be confident in my friendship. I will trust my friend. Tomorrow will be everything I am hoping for.

...lUcKy...

I've never considered myself lucky. I don't win contests. Opportunities don't just fall in my lap. I have to work for anything I get...I always have. I trip on cracks. I often say the wrong thing. I laugh at completely inappropriate times...times when I'm scared or nervous or when I am trying to avoid crying. It never fails...it rains and my umbrella turns inside out...getting me wet in spite of my effort to stay dry. I've always wanted to be lucky. When I was a little girl, I would sit in patches of clover...searching for a lucky four leaf clover...sometimes for hours. I never found one.

I don't get a chance to read much in my everyday life. If I'm sick or recovering...or if I'm on vacation...I'll read several books, but normally I don't take the time. Almost two months ago when I was laid up after surgery, I went through a week where I read 4 books. One book was a memoir written by the author of another novel I read years ago, Alice Sebold. She writes about her brutal rape and beating when she was a freshman in college and how it changed her life and her relationships as she struggled to deal with what happened to her. The title of her memoir is, "Lucky". It is titled as such because upon giving a description of the events and where they took place, the police told her that another girl had been killed and dismembered in the same place that she was attacked. They told her that in comparison...she was "lucky". It's an ironic title...a title that makes one stop and ask what it really means to be "lucky".

I started my marriage dirt poor. I cried every month when I had to pay the bills. We had one car...with no air conditioning. I got up at 4:30 AM to get ready to be at my job by 6AM at a convalescent home where I changed elderly people's diapers and fed them and sat with the ones that never got a visitor. We wore coats in our house in the winter because we couldn't afford to heat our tiny, old house. I watched other students...my same age...that were married and lived in nice apartments and that drove new cars that their parents paid for. I felt jealous...unlucky. It's been a long time since then. We are no longer dirt poor. We are very comfortable. Now I know that we were not unlucky. We appreciate what we have and where we came from, because we had to work hard to achieve success. Now I realize that we were lucky to have had the opportunity to become stronger and more grateful during the years we struggled to "make ends meet".

I've had to watch my weight my whole life. I'm not naturally thin. I always looked at "skinny" people and wondered why I couldn't be lucky like them. At one point, I weighed 200 lbs. I was miserable. I lost the weight. It was hard and it took me a long time. I had to fight for every pound I lost. I still fight...everyday...to maintain my weight loss. Now, I know that I am the lucky one, because I am in better shape. I am stronger, because I have to work to be thin. It's a conscious choice and only I can take credit for what I have become.

I have never been a "popular" kind of girl. I always had friends growing up, but I never had many...and most were guys. I've always felt insecure and socially inept. I am easily misunderstood. People that don't know me think I am a snob. I'm not. I am better now than ever, but I still have few friends and spend most of my time alone. I look at the groups of women together in restaurants during lunch...talking...laughing. I watch them from my table...alone. I think how lucky they are. I wish I wasn't alone. I feel unlucky. Then I get a phone call from a dear friend and my perspective changes. I may not have many friends, but I care so deeply for the few I have. They are not disposable...or one in a pool of many. Each one holds a place in my heart. Each one has made a difference in my life. That is worth more than a lunch date full of giggles and fake small talk. I am lucky to have a few true friends that I cherish.

This ironic title has helped me reevaluate what it means to be lucky. Life doesn't have to be easy. Friends don't have to be many. Money does not have to come free. I don't need to win contests. Raindrops eventually dry up. It's okay to struggle...to go without...to be left wanting. Sometimes, lucky is a state of mind...a choice. I am lucky, because I work to be so.

...pOweRfuL bEyONd mEAsUrE?...

"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate,
 but that we are powerful beyond measure.
 It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
 We ask ourselves, '
Who am I to be brilliant,
gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?' 
Actually, who are you not to be? 
You are a child of God.
 Your playing small does not serve the world.
 There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
 so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
 We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. 
It is not just in some; it is in everyone.
 And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people
 permission to do the same. 
As we are liberated from our fear,
our presence automatically liberates others."

-Marianne Wiliamson

I sat on my bed with a sandwich Saturday afternoon. I turned on the TV and surfed for something to watch while I ate. I couldn't find anything so I settled in and left the channel on a movie that I really had no interest in..."Akeelah And The Bee". As I watched...surprised that it was better than I expected...I heard a part of this quote. I put down my sandwich and immediately searched online for the quote in it's entirety. It was like a switch flipped in my head. I pride myself on the fact that I tend to see the world a bit differently than most other people...but this was something truly different...life changing...thought provoking.

"Am I really inadequate or do I pretend to be? Do I pretend because I am afraid? Am I afraid of my own greatness? "

I'm not sure that I know the answers to these questions. I do know that I have lived my life worrying about what others think...worrying that I won't measure up. What I didn't realize until I heard those words, was that I have not only lived in fear of not measuring up...but I have lived in fear of achieving too much. I'm afraid I won't be good enough and people won't like me...and I'm afraid I'll be too good and people will hate me for it. I'm not sure how to change the way I feel...how to harness the power that I have within...but I guess recognizing that it is there...is the first step towards truly becoming "powerful beyond measure".

...wOrDs tO liVe bY...

I love collecting poems and quotes, and I LOVE to shop! I have an addiction to buying workout clothes...and jeans...and shoes... As I was shopping for lululemon workout pants...(still haven't worked up the nerve to spend that much on a pair of workout pants...no matter how great they make a butt look)...I saw this and I LOVED it! It's from both worlds I love...shopping...and quotes. It's a bit hard to read, but if you click on it...it will enlarge. It contains some great "mantras", some good advice, and many words to live by. It made me happy, so I thought I would share...


Here are the top three things on here that I need to work on:

1. "DO ONE THING A DAY THAT SCARES YOU"

2. "SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE REPLACE THE WORDS 'WISH', 'SHOULD', AND 'TRY' WITH 'I WILL'. INEFFECTIVE PEOPLE DON'T.

3. "CHOOSE A POSITIVE THOUGHT. THE CONSCIOUS BRAIN CAN ONLY HOLD ONE THOUGHT AT A TIME."

What do YOU need to work on???

...mIss AlmOsT...mIss mAyBe...MiSS haLfwAy...

I love Grey's Anatomy. Those darn writers and their stupid strike really screwed it up for me this season. I have characters that I like and ones that I don't...ones that are in between...

I love George...he's the guy friend that is always there when you need him...when everyone one else has left or given up. My only complaint...he's such a tortured wuss sometimes...and Callie...UGH!...can't stand her. I call her "McNasty Man Face". Dr. Bailey...she's the bossy "Mama" that you can't help but love. Even when she's mad...she makes me smile. Christina is annoying, but I can relate to her torturous pursuit of perfection and her inability sometimes to be close to people...her fear of being vulnerable. "McSteamy" is a pompous ass...a hot, sexy pompous ass. He's the bad boy that we all love to hate...the one we know we can't trust...but still can't resist...still want. Sometimes, I think I'm one of the few women in the world that HATES "McDreamy". I don't find him to be desirable...in ANY WAY. He's selfish and indecisive. Alex...he's the guy that tells it like it is. He doesn't sugar coat anything. He's unapologetic...but when Denny died and he carried Izzy off the bed...I loved him. Speaking of Izzy...Izzy is my favorite. I love her moments of greatness that come out of nowhere...her "blonde brilliance". It is so unexpected...such a breath of fresh air. I love that she is so much more than the beauty visible on the outside. It cracks me up when she jumps to crazy conclusions...and they're usually wrong...like when she thought "Mc Nasty Man Face" wanted to "fight" her in the cafeteria. I can relate to her crazy moments when she loses it and freaks out...inappropriately...in front of everyone. I LOVE that she laughs at inappropriate times...I can SO relate to that one...just ask Dr. Collini!

And then there is Meredith...I have a love/hate relationship with Meredith. Her constant self reflection...her self absorbed rants...her never ending internal issues can drive me nuts...that's the hate part. But I can't totally hate her, because I can relate to her in some ways...not in the screw random people way...or the "me me me" way...but in the broken...damaged..."I have issues" way. It's hard to be strong and talented and capable and likeable...and indecisive and fragile and scared and difficult at the same time. I know because I live it...every day...so as much as she drives me nuts...I can't hate her because it would be like hating a piece of myself.

So often, I've referred to myself as "MISS ALMOST"...almost smart enough...almost nice enough...almost strong enough...almost pretty enough...almost skinny enough...I feel like I'm...almost...but never enough. When I got the Grey's Anatomy Soundtrack and heard the song, "Miss Halfway"...I said, "That's me! I actually hear those voices in MY mirror everyday!" That's me..."Miss Almost...Miss Maybe...Miss Halfway". Take it or leave it! Love it or hate it! That's me.

...tOO oLd???...

I have always hated the thought of getting old. Even when I was 13, I specifically remember saying that I was going to have plastic surgery when I "got old" and that I wanted to die at 35 because I would be "too old to do anything". Some things change, while others remain the same. Being older than 35, and in the best physical shape of my life, has changed my adolescent thoughts of what is "too old"...at the same time, being older than 35 also validates the fact that I don't want to get old. I hate wrinkles. I hate fighting gravity to keep my butt up where it should be. I spend a lot of time and money trying to look my best and not look like a frumpy old "mom". I feel like everyday, I'm fighting a losing battle against time. I do what I can, but believe me...no one is mistaking me for a twenty something!

I took my daughter to her first concert almost a week ago. I didn't really feel up to it physically being only 2 weeks after surgery. My sister was more than willing to take her for me and they would've had fun, but I wanted to be the one to have that first experience with her. As I stood there waiting to buy her a concert t shirt..I thought about how long it had been since I had been to a concert. It all felt so unfamiliar. I mean what happened to holding up a lighter during the concert? Now they sell flashing glow sticks! I looked around and saw all the girls...excited...squealing...wearing homemade shirts expressing their "love" for their favorite Jonas brother. When I looked over at my daughter smiling...her braces reminding me that my baby is growing up...I suddenly felt so old.

Where did the time go? When did I become middle aged? When did my every move become so "embarrassing" (according to my 12 yr old)??? You hear "old people" say that their life has passed in the blink of an eye...that they still feel young on the inside...which seems unbelievable when looking at the outside. We are told to take time to stop and "smell the roses"...to enjoy every moment...because time is fleeting. I always thought it was a crock...a bunch of crap...but I had a moment where time stopped for me standing there...surrounded by shiny braces and high pitched screams.

I realized that time is more precious than any of us think...that it will slip away from you if you are not careful. We should hold onto the "moments" in life as if we are trying to carry water in our hands. It will always pass...go away...eventually slip through our fingers...but we should carefully hold onto it for as long as possible...long enough to make memories. I realized that I can't stop time...I can't stay young forever...and wrinkles are inevitable. I'll probably always be embarrassing to my children...and I will never be 25 again...but I will always have the memories that I make.

The music started and all the girls' painful screams pierced through my ears. Everyone stood...even us "old" parents. My daughter started jumping...hands in the air...dancing with a sense of hesitation and the awkwardness that comes with being 12. I stayed still for a moment...knowing that any movement or enjoyment on my part would be humiliating to my daughter. I couldn't take it anymore! I threw my hands up and started to dance right next to her...waiting for her reproach. Just a short while earlier, she was correcting me for pretty much anything I was doing...and she wasn't being nice about it. I braced myself for some harsh words...but to my surprise...she turned and smiled and jumped a little higher and danced with a little more confidence. For a brief moment...I was young again...and together...we made a memory.

...soMetiMes gOOd guYs dOn't fiNisH LaSt...

Some say that good guys finish last. I hate to admit it, but being the ultimate pessimist...I have always agreed with this. I am not implying that it is bad or wrong to be a "good guy"...and I am in no way suggesting that guys should all be mean and reckless. I've just seen it happen with people I like way too many times...and I'm embarrassed to say that I had my share of crushes on a number of "bad boys" in the past as well. I can think of a handful of guys that I was so attracted to in college. It almost seemed...chemical...uncontrollable. I knew it would never last and I knew my heart would suffer in the end, but still...those were the ones I wanted.

Now that many years have passed and I am "an old married lady"...one that chose a "good guy" in the end...I see how dumb it really is...this stupid law that we girls perpetuate. It is funny that what I once did, angers me now when I see it happen to guys that I love... family... friends. I remember just about 6 months ago...I was feeling frustrated...wondering how a sweet, but immature girl that I know couldn't see how great what she had was...and worse...wondering why such a great guy would accept that and STILL want her after being hurt like that...more than once. I was so mad that she was breaking the heart of someone that I love, but my only solace was that I hoped that one day...she would look back and regret the decisions she made out of youthful ignorance...that she would see that she wasn't going to find a better guy than the one she was throwing away.

That "good guy" has struggled and been through a seriously life changing experience since then. He's been through some pretty challenging times...externally adapting to a new life...and internally finding balance in that new life. I've often wondered how someone so great could be alone...why he seemed to finish last in love.

Now...he is happy. Finally...he has won the prize...a prize far greater than the one he sought after for SO LONG. He has found his "exception"...the girl that is smart enough to see what the others did not...one worthy of him. Nothing is ever certain. People can change over time...but I pray that for his sake...this is it. Lucky for him, there are exceptions to every rule. Lucky for us girls that fall for the "bad boys"... there are still "good guys" that keep trying and don't give up...even when they finish last a few times.

...QUALITY vs. QUANTITY...

Most women don't want a big butt. Most women live in fear that their butt will look big in their jeans. Most women that work with a personal trainer want help becoming smaller...especially when it comes to their butt. Well, it's pretty obvious by now that I am NOT like "most" women...in this way or in many other ways. I like my butt big and round.

My old trainer, my friend...he understood and he delivered...I had a big butt...a really good, high, big butt. But most people...most people think I'm crazy...they wonder why ANY woman would WANT a big butt. My new trainer is surprised by this. He asks, "Do you REALLY want a "badonka donk butt"? My brother asks me if I know I'm a white girl...and YES...I know I'm a white girl. Lots of people think it's a joke...it's understandable. So, one day, I'm talking to a big, body builder type trainer at the gym. We are talking about my workouts...my diet habits...just random "workout stuff". And then...somehow...we got on the subject of my butt and my desire for it to be bigger. He laughed and said, "Now remember...there's a difference between quantity and quality!" We laughed and the conversation ended...but it got me thinking...not just about my butt...but about everything in my life.

The last few days...laying in bed recovering after surgery...I've had some extra time to think. It is so interesting to see who in my life is really here...when it's hard...when it's not fun...when I need help...when I have nothing to offer. I've always felt a bit sad that I don't have many friends...worried that I'm not good enough. I feel unlucky...like I'm missing out on something. I was home alone on Saturday...it was quiet...I had just woken up from a good, hard, drug induced nap. I was laying in bed, trying to wake up, and I decided to open my computer. A friend sent me an e-mail checking on me. After reading it, I thought about my friends and I thought about those words I heard not so long ago... "Now remember...there's a difference between quantity and quality!".

AHA! Everything became clear. No, I don't have a large QUANTITY of friends, but the few I have are QUALITY friends. I have a sister that is the best friend I will ever have. She's been there my whole life...she doesn't just know my history...she's part of it. She knows my darkest secrets and she has been a part of my greatest joys. We can speak to each other without saying a word. She can tell me things that no one else can. She is my greatest cheerleader. She thinks she needs me...that I am the strong one...but I know that it's the other way around. She is the reason that I tell my daughters, "You will never have a better friend than your sister." S, I love you with all my heart!

I have a dear friend...one of my favorite people in the world. I like him so much that I let him tell me what to do...and I don't let ANYONE tell me what to do. He has pushed me to my limits and he has comforted me in times of sorrow. He has helped me see the world differently and helped mold me into the best version of myself. No one makes me laugh like he does. He is far away now...and I miss him all the time...but even after all this time...when we speak...it's as if no time has passed. When we speak...I am happier than I was before. We can talk about anything...from frozen dinners to religion. He has an amazing...almost scary ability to call or text me at the very moment that I need him the most. He IS truly my real life super hero. W, I feel privileged to call you my friend!

I have a new friend...my new trainer. We are just beginning to know each other, but still he has shown genuine concern in times of trial. He has been my workout partner and has helped me accomplish one of the things I thought I would never do...because he refused to believe me when I said, "I can't." and he didn't give up on me. He has reminded me that there is always room for improvement. His texts and emails over the past week, have let me know that I may be gone but I am not forgotten. J, I haven't known you long, but I'm glad that our paths have crossed!

Last but not least is my husband...not only is he my partner and my love...but he is my friend. We may be two very different people with very different ideas at times, but we always find a way to meet in the middle. He has put up with me for many years...and he has sacrificed HIS wants for mine...many times. After almost 2 decades, we haven't run out of things to talk about. He has loved me for better or worse...fat or thin...happy or sad. He appreciates my strengths and forgives my weaknesses. He loves me when I am most unloveable...he allows me the space I need to grow...and he's given me the most precious possessions I have...our kids. I love you, P!

I've realized that while I've been looking for more...I should've of been appreciating the abundance of what I have. What I have, may not be great in numbers...but what I have...is precious...priceless. What I have...is QUALITY!

"i'M nOt a BoY!"

It seems like girls hate me. I have had some really good girlfriends in my life, but they have been few and far between. I wasn't a sorority girl. I've never had the big group of girlfriends that hangs together on a regular basis. All the "girls" at the gym take classes together, while I prefer to lift weights and flip tires...you know..."boy stuff". They all congregate and talk to each other...but they just stare and whisper when I'm walk by. I'm not sure why it is this way...but it is. It hurts my feelings but I can't change the way people react to me. I had to accept the fact that I'm different than most girls a LONG time ago.

Most of my friends have been guys. Guys don't create drama...they don't call to ask what you're wearing...they don't need an entourage to go to the bathroom...they respect strength and calluses...and they don't hate you for trying to look your best. I'm a pretty straight forward kind of person, so it's easy for me to offend girls...most of my guy friends have always found me to be funny...a refreshing change of pace. They don't take everything so personally. We girls...we tend to personalize everything. It just feels easier...more natural for me to be friends with guys...even now. It used to be alot easier than it is now. Now it's hard because I'm a grown, married woman with children. If I am not careful, people could get the wrong idea about my friendship with a man. It stinks because we can't really go to lunch or movies. Consequently, I spend alot of my "free" time alone.

When I was younger and single, there was always the fear of someone developing a crush...but that was never much of a problem for me. Even now, when I've had good friends that were men...I've had people warn me to be careful. I always laugh it off, because I never even imagine any of these guys being attracted to me in the least. In the movie, "When Harry Met Sally", Harry says, "It's impossible for a man to be friends with a woman he finds attractive.". I think that's true...so I always feel "safe" with my guy friends. At the same time, I question the way they see me and it affects my self esteem. It bothers me.

The thing that bothers me is that I feel like my guy friends think of me as a boy...like I'm one of their poker buddies. I don't want them to be attracted to me, but it's hard on my ego. I want to be able to be friends, but I still want them to treat me like I'm a girl...I want to feel like they see me as...feminine. It's not that they are mean to me or treat me badly in any way. It's quite the opposite...it's just small things. For example, I don't want them to spit and burp in front of me...because boys don't do that in front of girls that they respect. If they care what a woman thinks, they control themselves and are on their best behavior. I feel like the men at the gym...the ones that I can "hold my own with"...and my personal trainers that I come to consider friends...don't see me as a girl...as a lady. I know alot of this is my fault...I always try to be such a bad a**...I'm always so tough. The thing is...I'm not really tough...seeming tough is my protection. It hides how vulnerable I really am...but no one else knows that so it adds to the whole "boy" thing. I wonder if I come off as masculine. I don't mean to. I feel like I'm very feminine. I wear cute, tight jeans...I get my nails done...I have flowers painted on my toes...I'm obsessed with shoes...and I almost always wear high heels and makeup. It's so frustrating, because I wonder what exactly it is that I do that makes me come off as one of the guys.

I actually have to clarify one thing...the thing is...that I want my guy friends to see me as a girl...and if they treated me as such, it would be great. HOWEVER...I would ONLY want them to do this if they could remain comfortable around me...familiar. I would never want them to behave in a super professional, proper way when it comes to me. I LOVE that they are so comfortable around me...I just wish they could see me from both sides of the spectrum. I wish they could see that even though I'm strong and I work out hard...I'm also fragile and sensitive some times. I wish they could see that even though I sweat like a boy when I'm working out...that when I come home, I take off those sweaty clothes and I shower and put on makeup and high heels. I wish that they could see that even though I try not to be a baby about things and I never demand to be waited on...I still want to have the door held for me...I still want to be protected and treated like a lady. Some days I want to scream "I'M NOT A BOY!". I don't say anything because I don't want them to do these things because I tell them to...or out of pity or duty...I want them to see past the tough exterior and I want them to see me for who I am and treat me accordingly. I guess it's impossible to have things both ways. I just wish they could see me for what I really am, because what I am...is a girl.

...RiSiNg fROm tHe AsHeS...

I'm a passionate person. I don't always express my thoughts or show them outwardly in an obvious way...but I always feel them intensely. When I like something...whether it's food, a person, or an idea...whatever...I really like it...love it...think it is the best. When I don't like something...I really don't like it...I have no tolerance for it...and there is not much anyone can do to change my mind. Consequently, my emotions can swing pretty far in either direction depending on the day and circumstance. When I am sad or hurt...when I fail...when I am disappointed...it is so difficult for me to overcome. I always succeed in overcoming eventually. It's just that I feel like it's almost impossible to right my wrongs...to forgive...to start over. So, I struggle and get "stuck".

I think sometimes I get stuck waiting...waiting for someone to help me...to save me. I'm not the kinda girl that gets "saved". I've never been good at being a damsel in distress. I don't wait in the tower for my prince. I usually try to find a way to get myself out. Sometimes it makes me feel sad, like I'm not worthy of saving...so I've never really given anyone the chance to save me. I always assume that he doesn't, but if the prince ever shows up...I'm already gone. I wonder if it's because I'm not pretty enough...or maybe it's because I'm not likeable...or as good as all the other "princesses". Sometimes, I wish things were different. Sometimes I am glad.

I read a quote once that said, "You save yourself or you remain unsaved." and that's how I've always tried to live...like a phoenix. The phoenix was a mythical bird that lived for 500 years. There was only one phoenix at a time...all the phoenix had was itself. It was thought to be able to restore itself when it was hurt or wounded. I find it interesting that it was considered invincible...NOT because it couldn't get hurt...but because it could repair itself when it was hurt...even the phoenix could get wounded. After 500 years, it was said to build a nest that it would ignite in flames. The nest and the bird would burn so intensely that they would both be reduced to ashes. Out of the ashes, a new phoenix would be born. The phoenix is a symbol of rebirth and renewal, but not only was the phoenix thought to be reborn...it was thought to come back stronger than it was before.

I've had some things going on in my life in the last week that have felt a bit out of my control. Some days, I feel stuck and I get mad...mad because I wonder why I always have to deal with this kind of stuff...mad because my perception is that somehow I am different or less fortunate...mad because it's not fair. The fact is that even if I am unlucky...even if it isn't fair, I can't change it. That's how life is. We take the cards we are dealt and try to make the best hand possible. You win some and you lose some. Life is a journey...a test...a time of growth...a trial. We should all want to become better than we are, but it doesn't happen overnight...it's a process. Our trials can make us stronger, but it's not easy...or quick...or painless. It takes effort. We learn from our mistakes. I am no where near being able to compare myself to a phoenix, but I'm trying. I'm trying to take things one day at a time...and when I'm consumed by the "flames" of life...I will try to rise from the ashes...a little stronger each time...like a phoenix starting a new life.

...holding my breath...

I do it all the time. I do it when I'm scared..when I'm surprised...when I'm in pain...when I'm worried...unsure. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it until I hear someone say, "Breathe!". I don't realize how uncomfortable I am until I draw in the first breath and the feeling of relief washes over me. A few days ago I experienced that relief.

My friend has been gone. He still is. I knew I would miss him when he left, but I underestimated how much. He was so many things to me...a coach...a friend...a running buddy...a sounding board...a student...a teacher...a confidante...and more. I laughed with him. I cried in front of him. I learned from him. I succeeded because of him. He made me happy many times and even made me sad a few times. He helped me realize my potential and changed me for the better.

I was sad when he left, but more than anything I was worried. I was worried that he wouldn't find what he was looking for...worried that he would never come back to train me...worried that he would forget me. In a sense, I've been holding my breath since September 14th. When my friend called me a couple of days ago, I felt relief...I took a breath. I don't think he'll ever be back, but I am learning to accept that. He's my friend and if he's happy, then who am I to tell him to do something different. I just have to keep breathing and be thankful for what I have...my memories...the things I've learned...no one can take those things away from me. I should be grateful and aware of every breath I take. Buddha once said, " "Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn alot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us be thankful."

It's time for me to stop holding my breath. It's time to breathe so I can live.

...bAd mOmmY...

I wasn't a little girl that carried dolls around. In fact, I never remember having a specific doll that I especially liked or played with. I never get "baby hungry" when I hold someone else's newborn. I love to hold them and see their tiny features. I love to cuddle them...and smell their necks...and kiss their cheeks...and then give them back when they start to cry. I've sat in circles of women that talked about how after they gave birth, all they could think was..I want to be pregnant again...I want more babies. After I had my babies...I always thought...I'm glad that's over and I'm not doing that again any time soon. I just smile and quietly wonder. I've always wondered if I am...somehow...less of a woman...a worse mother because I don't feel like most other women .

Being a mom can be one continual guilt trip for me, if I'm not careful. I always worry...am I doing enough?...am I really cut out for this? I remember when my kids were so little...5, 2, and newborn...I was so overwhelmed some days. I couldn't wait for the day when they would get older...the day that I didn't have to change diapers...the day that I could go to the mall without a stroller...the day that I could carry a purse again...a real purse, rather than a diaper bag that doubled as my purse. The list goes on. I foolishly thought it would get easier, and before I knew it, the day came...my kids aren't babies anymore.

As my children get older, the day to day challenges haven't gotten easier...they have just changed. We don't have tantrums in the grocery checkout because they want candy anymore, but when I make them turn off video games to do homework or tell them to go to bed or to set the table...we have tantrums. I use to hate the glares from strangers when my kids would cry in stores, but I would gladly welcome those glares to never have to hear "I hate you. You're the meanest Mom in the world.". My kids don't cry when they are hungry anymore, but I have had to endure tears and complaining when I make them eat one bite of their vegetables. I wanted "a break" when they were little. I was always so tired. Sometimes, these days I wonder if they even need me and I miss the way it felt to hold them in my arms and rock them to sleep.

I wonder if I am a bad mommy because I didn't dream of babies when I was a girl. I wonder if I am a failure because I'm always late. I wonder if I am worthy of this job when I lose my temper. I am ashamed to admit that some days, I want to give up. I'm ashamed because good moms don't give up...they keep trying...no matter what...and I want more than anything to be a good mom. I want to teach my children well. I want to make lasting memories with them. I want them to be proud to introduce me to their friends. I want my children to know that I mean what I say. I want them to know that even if I'm late, I will ALWAYS be there. I want them to know that even though it's hard to hear hurtful words said in anger, that I will always forgive them...again and again...as many times as I need to. Mostly, I want my children to grow up never questioning the depth of my love for them...so even when I am tired and frustrated...defeated and floundering...I will never give up. I will never walk away. I will never stop trying to be a better mom...and I pray that when my children are grown they won't think I was a bad mommy.

...It's time to drop the anchor...

I'm not a person with alot of collections in my house. I don't collect figurines or snow globes or anything like that...it's never been "my thing". The only thing I really collect is quotes. Whether they are poems...or movie lines...or quotes from famous people...whenever I come across a quote that is inspirational to me...I write it down and add it to my "list". I've even been known to pull out my cell phone in a movie to type in a quote or a line that I like...one that is worthy of my collection. Yeah, it's weird, but it's what I do.

In the movie "The Guardian", there was a line that I thought of as I sat down to write today. Kevin Costner's character, Ben Randall, is teaching the young men that are in the Coast Guard about how to be good "rescue swimmers" and this is one of the things he tells them: "There will come a time when you might have to decide who lives and dies out there. It's a terrible responsibility but it's one you will have to make as a rescue swimmer. The bigger reality is, its also something you are going to have to live with as a human being. There will come a time when you will have to say no. The most important person to keep alive is yourself."

I've been thinking about letting go...letting go of the things in my life that are drowning me...the things that will kill me in a sense if I continue to hold on to them. "The most important person to keep alive is yourself." I heard that line in my mind as I thought about some of the people and things that are like an anchor around me. Sometimes it's easy to let go...and sometimes it takes the feeling of struggling to tread water before I realize that I have a decision to make.

I don't let go or give up easily...especially when it comes to the people that I care about...but there's only so long that a person...even a strong person...can tread water before they drown. I can't control other people. I've learned that the hard way. The only thing I can control is myself. I have to make my own decisions. I have to know when to walk away...when it's time to save myself...because the fact is that these so called anchors in my life that are dragging me down are not chained to me...I am holding onto them...I have to let go...I have to drop the anchor or I will drown. It's hard to walk away before you're ready. It hurts to mourn someone that is still alive. Sometimes, we have to choose ourselves over others in order to live.

..."FERGALICIOUS!"...

I write a lot of serious...sometimes sad stuff, but I'm not a sad person. I want to write about something that brightens my day and makes me giggle when it comes to mind. There's a proverb that says, "Laughter is the best medicine." Years ago, I wouldn't have believed that, but today I know that is true. It makes me sad when I realize that I have gone through an entire day without laughing. I used to laugh all the time. I don't know why or what was so funny, but my friend used to make me laugh almost everyday that I trained with him...sometimes it was a giggle...sometimes it was long, loud laughter. Consequently, when something funny happened to me, I loved to tell him about it, because he appreciated the humor and usually had an equally funny retort. There's one particular "funny" that is my favorite.

I remember one day, my oldest daughter and I were stopping by Target. I don't know what for, but she wasn't exactly thrilled. You see, she's almost 12, she hates to shop, and I am the most embarrassing Mom ever! She was complaining as we walked in and I was trying to bite my tongue and ignore it. We got what we needed and waited in the "10 items or less" line. You couldn't help but notice the cashier right away. He was kind of a goofy lookin guy with an outgoing personality and a quick wit. I started to watch him closely because I noticed that even if they resisted at first, every customer..old or young...cranky or cheerful...left his line smiling at the very least..most left laughing. As we approached our turn, I noticed a man behind me. He was hard not to notice. He was a big, muscular guy, mid 20s, Corona tshirt, camo shorts, and backwards baseball cap. He looked like a manly man. He was holding something under his arm. I noticed that it was almost as if he were hiding something, but turned around to pay for my purchase and take my turn at a laugh. I don't remember what the cashier joked with me about, but he did and I laughed...not a roll on the floor laugh, but a small giggle. As I turned to walk away with my daughter, I heard the cashier say in a really loud volume..."FERGALICIOUS! DUDE, AWESOME FERGIE!" Surprised...me and my daughter turned to see that what this guy was hiding was a Fergie CD!!! The guy was not finding this funny...in fact he looked VERY embarrassed...and that just egged this funny cashier on. My daughter and I continued towards the door and our car. As soon as we got outside, we simultaneously looked right at each other and broke into hysterical laughter. My daughter's response through laughter was, "COME ON! A guy buying Fergie?!?" I immediately texted my friend whose reply was something like, "OMG did you ask him if he wanted to borrow some panties?" Again more laughter. My reply, "Nah, I think he already has his own!" My friend and I texted back and forth and my daughter and I would burst into laughter any time we thought about what had just happened.

Now, if we want to laugh or we're feeling silly, all my daughter and I have to do is look over and yell "FERGALICIOUS!!!" and it brings immediate laughter. Laughter can fix so many things. Laughter can bring people together and create memories. That day, laughter helped me go from "the most embarrassing Mom in the world" to someone that wasn't so bad to be around. I dare to say it brought us closer. It changed the entire mood of our trip. So, Corona man...thanks!...Your embarrassing moment created laughter and fun and memories for me and my daughter!

I'm the BIGGEST LOSER!

I sat on my bed and cried off and on for two hours. I had a good day today. I wasn't sad when I sat down on my bed to relax and watch TV, but I get so emotional every time. I can't disconnect myself from people that I don't even know. When other people see me, they automatically assume that I have nothing in common with the people that I cry for...that I couldn't possibly understand their pain. They have no idea that some days when I look in the mirror...I don't see me...strong...thin...healthy me... I see those people looking back at me.

Four years ago, I weighed 200 pounds. I decided that I was ready for a change. I don't know why the number 200 "woke me up". I don't know why 180 or 197 didn't. I just know that I opened my eyes and made a decision. I decided that I didn't want to be out of breath at the top of my stairs anymore. I decided that I didn't want to hate my reflection in the mirror. I decided that I couldn't remain a prisoner in a body that felt uncomfortable and foreign to me. It took me several months to figure out what worked for me and in the end it took me over a year to lose 70 pounds. I didn't go to a doctor. I didn't take pills or starve. I ate better and I ate less and I started working my body. I NEVER thought I could go from a size 18 to a size 2/4. I've never been strong. I've yo-yoed between being fairly thin and being slightly chubby off and on throughout my life, but even when I lost weight, I was never fit...never this small.

My body has changed, but sometimes I think that my mind has not. I struggle to see what others see. That is why I cried tonight while I watched "The Biggest Loser". I cry just thinking about it now. When I see those men and women on the television, I feel their pain and struggle. I KNOW how hard it is...everyday...even now. I know what it feels like to be ignored in stores. I know how it feels to see people's faces when they haven't seen you...in a while...since you gained weight...the disappointment and the shock that can't be masked with kind lies and fake smiles. I know how it feels to wake up hopeless.

My life is totally different today. Today when I walk in a store, sales people look me in the eyes. They speak to me. They help me. Today when I walk in the gym, I feel like I belong there. Today I run to the top of the stairs and back down again and hardly notice it. Today I enjoy shopping and trying on clothing. Today I notice men noticing me..and they no longer have a look of pity or disgust on their faces. Today I am no longer ashamed, but I am proud...proud of how far I've come...proud of the sacrifices that I have made and the lessons that I have learned.

I am not a fat girl anymore, but the fat girl that I once was still lives inside me. Sometimes she's barely noticeable...sometimes she overpowers me. She overpowers me with fear...she tells me that what I see in the mirror is just an illusion...that I am ugly and fat...that it will not last. I'm trying to learn to quiet her, but she is an important part of who I was...who I am. When I see a fat person, I do not judge. I do not make fun. I do not make assumptions. I hope. I hope that one day that person will "wake up" like I did and be reborn. The fat girl that I used to be has made me...kinder...stronger...more grateful. She motivates me to get up every day and work hard...rain or shine...cold or hot...sick or well. So while I will never totally abandon her, I need to ignore her when she lies to me and puts me down. I need to teach the "old me" to accept and love "the new me"...to not be embarrassed by the stares...to believe the compliments...and to accept my beauty.

...wHy cAn'T i bEliEvE?...

Why can't I believe that I am worthy of being loved? Why can't I believe that I am beautiful?...worthwhile? Why can't I believe that dreams really do come true? Why can't I believe what I am told?...that I am loved...that I am capable and strong? Why can't I believe the ones I love?...friends...family...It seems that no matter how many times I am told, I NEVER believe. I doubt. I question. I rationalize and eventually...I reject...sometimes out loud, but mostly in silence with a nod and a fake smile. When I receive a compliment, I wonder if it is a cruel joke or simply given to me out of pity or even duty.

One day a couple of months back, I walked in my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirrors that surround the room. All I could see were flaws...wrinkles on my face...imperfections in my body...the list goes on. I decided to get ready for the day, go out dressed well, and try to carry myself with confidence. I was hoping that I could convince myself that I'm okay through my interaction with other people. So, I put on my cute, tight size 2 jeans, my pink, expensive 3/4 length sleeve jacket, my perfectly matching pink high heels, and I headed out for the day. All day...everyone stared...all day...I was worried...worried about what they were thinking. I created what I fear. I wanted people to see me...to think I looked better than everyone else...and they saw me...but I didn't feel better...I felt...different...strange...bad. I walked through Target at the end of the day before going home. I acted confident, but I felt scared. I caught a man staring. It embarrassed me. I pushed my basket faster in the opposite direction and I looked away. I had to go back to get something I forgot and there he was again...the same man. He had a kind face and he smiled at me. Before I could escape like I had before, he walked towards me...he wouldn't take his eyes off me. He said, "Has anyone told you that you look pretty today?" Shocked and at a loss for words, I spit out one word..."No." He said, "Well, you do. You look pretty." Dumbfounded again, I said one more word..."Thanks." and I walked away. I didn't feel better. I didn't feel good, because I didn't believe. My first thought was, "Do I look so pathetic...so desperate that a stranger felt that he HAD to pay me a compliment?" I know that was not the case, but I told myself that it was. I would not allow myself to believe what he said.

I don't ever remember a time in my life that I felt differently. I'm never...enough. I've always felt second rate. I've always felt "almost" good enough...but not quite. I've always felt like a consolation prize. I'm not sure why..I have a few ideas, but I guess I'll never really know. It has made me seem...hard...tough...and uncaring, but I'm really not. I am soft and fragile...scared and worried...all the time. I want to believe...I just don't know how.