30 Days of Thanks

T'is the month of thanksgiving posts. They start coming in full force and we start rolling our eyes because they seem insincere. After all, you should be giving thanks all year, right? 

Yes, we should.  But we don't. 

I'm not talking about you, Perfect Betty.  I'm talking about those of us that spend most of our days worrying about how we're going to make it through another week of work and get the chores done.  Or who is going to be home in time to pick up the kids.  Or whether our our house is going to catch fire in the middle of the night (thanks This is Us!).

Worries and fears rule just about every day of our lives.  I mentioned during my last post that fears have the ability to rob our joy.  We have to make a distinct effort not to let them.  And the best way to do this is through thanksgiving.

I talked to someone after my last post who was not convinced.  How can giving thanks make your fears go away?  It doesn't.

Giving thanks allows me to focus on what I do have.  It takes the pressure of all the things I can't control off my shoulders and emphasizes on the moment.

Before I know it, these moments are going to be gone.  My children will grow up.  We may move and have to say farewell to our friends.  Colleagues move on and the feel of the office changes.  Giving thanks in the moment is so important.

I know this is harder for some people than others. There are so many people out there who have a hard time during the holidays.  Grinches that gnarl at the sound of Christmas music.

Here is my secret. I am one of you.

I have lost and grieved over loved ones.  I have been separated from family around the holidays.  I spent almost an entire December in the hospital with an ill child.  I have known some serious valleys.  And holidays are difficult for me too.

Sometimes, I just have to make a conscious decision not to fall into a pit.*  I need to focus on things I am grateful for.

Cue, my 30 Days of Thanksgiving project.  I came up with 30 little acts of thanksgiving to do during the month of November.  If you google, you'll probably find plenty of similar lists out there.  I decided not to post my specifics because I really tailored it to my needs, things that are important to me.  Things that are difficult for me.  OK, and I might have come up with color-coordinated schedules and entire family times centered around my topic of the week.  I'm a total nerd.  It makes me happy.

Giving thanks makes me happy.

And honestly, I should really be giving thanks year 'round.  But it's never too late to start.

And so, farewell October with your fears, worries and anxieties.  Hello November, the month of thanksgiving.  A month where we can put all things into perspective and make way for joy.

*PS. I wanted to clarify that I am not, in any way, minimizing depression or anxiety.  I don't think everyone can make magically change their situations or their chemical make up in an instant.  If you need help, don't ignore the warning signs.  There is nothing wrong with seeing a therapist.  There is nothing wrong with using medications if you need it. Just don't think you are resigned to being unhappy forever and please, don't think you have to go through it alone.

The Opposite of Fear

I live in a town obsessed with Halloween.  In fact, the entire month of October here is a celebration of fear.

My attempt at joining in the fun.

I play along with the dress up and the ghouls and goblins, but the honest truth is that my fears have nothing to do with those things.

Its funny how your fears change as you age.  When I was young, I was terrified of The Exorcist and being alone in the middle of the night.  As I got older, my fear became all about my insecurities. Speaking in public. Being the outsider in school.  Being alone.

I had a brief period when I was fearless in life.  It was that glorious time in my young adult life.  No longer bound by the idiosyncrasies of high school.  I was free to be what I wanted.  I wouldn't miss a trip the the amusement park to feed my need for thrills. And I didn't mind being alone so much. I had no one I was responsible for, I was free.

Then adulthood crept up on me. I don't know at what point exactly heights became terrifying.  And driving on the highway became an exercise in blood pressure control. But I find myself afraid of many things these days. Don't even get me started on birds.

But those are the least of my worries.  What truly haunts me late at night is imagined scenarios that would likely never actually occur.

A phone call telling me that my husband or a loved one has been in a terrible accident.
Ruining my children's lives because my parenting is all wrong.
And the worst of all...having to outlive one of my children.

Things that I should never think about.  Situations I would never want to call into my present life.  Yet my mind lives through them as if they are real.  As if trying to savor them and pull every ounce of emotion out of my body.  Sometimes it feels like I have actually lived through it.  A haunting virtual simulation.  I find myself weeping in my living room while life is going on around me. A flash of anxiety playing out my darkest fears has defeated me again.

Fears that stop me from living in the present for fear of the bad that could happen.  Even when things are perfectly fine.  I find myself worried about what is waiting on the other side. Brene Brown calls this "forboding joy."  And I call it, a good portion of my adult life.

Maybe it's the fact that as an adult, you realize how little control you actually have in life.  Children tend to look up to grown ups to solve everything.  They can't wait to grow up, thinking they will no longer have any fears, they'll be able to do anything.  But you get here and you realize that there is that expectation placed on you with absolutely no bearing.  You actually have very little control.

As a Christian, we are called to give our fears to God.  He is in control, so we don't have to be.  Some days, that's the only thing I have.  Especially when I look at my children and I think how much I would give my life to keep them safe, but in the end, there is so little I can really do.

So how can I combat those fears when they come?  What is the opposite of fear?  Bravery might seem like the right answer, but you can be brave (or cowardly) and still have fear.

I believe the opposite of this kind of fear is joy and thanksgiving. Both, because you can't really have one without the other.   In fact, it's so fitting that the month of thanksgiving comes after the month of fear.  Because we get to recall all those things we are thankful for and let go of our fear. We get to experience JOY.

Now exiting fear town. Salem, MA

I don't want to spend my adulthood afraid.  I don't want to live in fear--I want to choose joy.  It's a work in progress. So the month of November, I'm going to take on a 30 days of Thanksgiving project (more info to come). I hope you will join me.

In the meanwhile, I'd love to hear your thoughts.  What are your fears?  How have they evolved over time?  How do you combat them?

Falling into simplicity

Fall is my favorite season.  The weather is the most gorgeous in Boston from September to October.  Shhh...don't tell everyone that. I want to keep them for myself after all the tourists have gone.  The gorgeous foliage, the smell of the crisp air coming in.  Apple picking. Cider donuts.  Fall is sheer radiance.

With the transition in seasons, I try to transition my life a bit.  Summer is always so busy.  Autumn is the perfect season for me to get my life back in order.  To the dismay of my friends, I stop accepting invites to hang out and scheduling play dates.  As a person who loves connecting (and honestly, people pleasing), it is hard for me to do this.  But the truth is that we need our weekends at home. 

The school season comes in like a whirlwind full of events.  Just this month alone, the kids have been busy doing art projects for the fall fair, making costumes, and part-taking in fall school fundraisers.  Work also picks up as people stop their summer slacking and start revamping projects and committees.  So we need our weekends to rest.

Yes, I said rest.

I don't always say no to something because I'm busy doing something, but because I'm busy doing nothing.

I actively work not to set any plans in stone right now because I'm busy trying to be unscheduled.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not forsaking my friends altogether.  I need them to fill my spirit as well.  But we've been doing things more in passing.  "Swinging by the farm today if anyone wants to join."  No expectations for anyone to rearrange their lives or leave the comfort of their home for a scheduled event.

We are currently going on 3 weeks straight of no hard plans on our weekend agenda.  It has been marvelous. You see, something amazing happens when you stay home for an entire weekend.  You get to sit outside and enjoy the beautiful weather without rushing off somewhere.  You get be present with your kids.

It is so hard to get more than a sentence out of a preteen in passing.  And yet, we used the past few weekends to read The Outsiders, watch the movie, AND discuss it together.  This reaffirmed that saying no to that extra outing was worth it.

I finally taught my five-year-old to tie his shoes.  He came up to me over the weekend because he was "bored", and we tied shoes for half an hour, then he went off to draw a crayola masterpiece.

Down time at home is so important.  I truly believe this is why God insisted on us keeping the Sabbath.  And yet, in this society we insist on working ourselves to death 24/7.  Everyone seems to have such a busy schedule filled with sports, activities, and clubs.  We've been there too. We decided its not for us.

For the past few months, our Friday night through Saturday evening has been exclusively reserved for resting and connecting.  I'm not going to pretend that I keep it as strictly as instructed.  We still cook or occasionally go somewhere fun.  But the key is that at the end of the day on Saturday, I feel rested and connected with my family (and when the stars align, friends).

To pull this off, I'm trying to stay disciplined and accomplish housework and chores on other days of the week.  I've been getting up earlier to squeeze in a workout most mornings so that I can sleep in on Saturdays.  We have an intricate schedule of chores that we stick to during the week.  Sundays, between church and evening groups, we cook massive amounts of food and do a deep clean of the house, which I have dubbed "Power Hour".  It's not as fun as it sounds, but it sets us up for the week and it feels good having that space during the week to operate.

I know the holiday season will creep up on us before we know it.  And again, there will be dozens of volunteer events, family meals, parties and birthdays. (Why is everyone's birthday in December?).  In the spring, we'll sign up for swim or dance lessons.  And in the summer we'll meet up with friends, camp, travel and have a blast.

But for now, we're enjoying the simplicity.  If you need us, we'll be watching the leaves change colors.

The joy of taking walks every morning is watching the world transition before your eyes.

"It didn't happen to me"

I've heard many disturbing things related to the Kavanaugh confirmation lately.

The crux of the issue seems to be, if it's true, why wait so long? At this point, is it even relevant?

One of the comments in particular that I read on social media this week sent me down a deep dark tunnel of thoughts. It was from a woman who had learned that her grandfather had molested her mother many years after the fact.  She never said anything while he was alive, and as a result, the granddaughter had always known him to be a kind and loving grandfather and provider for his family. So she was grateful that he was given a chance to "right his wrongs" otherwise, she wouldn't have known him to be the "family pillar" that he was all those years later.

In other words, it wouldn't have been beneficial to her and definitely not the grandfather, if her mom had spoken up sooner. I don't know all the details of the situation, obviously, but from the little information I extracted, it seems like it was just brushed under the rug.  He changed, so it was never "worth" making him face what he did.

But, what if something else had happened?  What if this "great guy" were to strike again and someone else had to suffer as a result?  What about the fact that ONE child suffered because of what he did?  Is just one person's experience worth something?

Sometimes we have this attitude that "it didn't happen to me, and it was in the past, so it doesn't matter." We have a tendency to overlook victims in favor of weighing the effect on us.

Sure, everyone has the right to rehabilitate and change. Everyone has the right to care about how actions from their past will affect their families now. But you also have the right have to own up to your truth.

Kavanaugh stated that his 10 year old daughter asked to pray for Ford.  If this is true, then she's likely the most enlightened person in his family. She is well aware how this has affected her father's victim.

Of course for this poor child, it would be preferable to believe that it's a lie and her father is not this monster being described. She has only ever known him as loving and kind. And yet, if it is true, then she is yet another victim of his crimes--not only the abuse, but his inability to own up to it.

All these years he's been living his life without reprieve, enjoying privileged life while his victim has been in prison.

Because, let's be clear--victims of abuse don't just move on. They try to continue with their life, but the nightmares still come. That instinct to recoil at when someone accidentally brushes against you on public transportation will strike when least expected. The constant discussion of abuse suddenly in the media will send you on an downward emotional spiral so fast you can barely breathe.

Can you imagine what it would be like to have the monster who haunts your dreams not only exalted and given a position above reproach?  The same man who didn't once bat an eye at your suffering or reach out to alleviate some of the destruction he caused.  It's enough to make anyone scream try to make their voice heard, no matter the consequences.

So when is the right time to make amends?

When is the right time to scrutinize our highest officials and hold them to better standards?

This isn’t about politics.  It is about human dignity.

If you don't give a voice to the victims now, who will give you one if it happens to you?

"Your silence will not protect you." -Audre Lorde

I Don't Know How You Do It!

I have to admit, as someone who works a full time job and has four kids, I get a lot of "I don't know how you do it" thrown at me.



I'm never quite sure if its a statement of awe, pity or judgement.

Do they mean, "I don't really care how you do it.  It isn't my problem.  Just get yourself to this event on time like everyone else."

Sometimes it seems that no one cares how you do it, but just that you DO it.

No one ever asks, "How do you do it?  Tell me about your day"
"How are you doing?  No really, how are YOU doing?"

Hey, I get it.  Everyone has their own mess going on.  It doesn't bother me except when I'm being judged for my inability to do something everyone else seems to do with ease.  When I'm asked to make time for something that I just can't fit into my schedule and they say, "Oh well, I don't even know how you do it!"

Here, here is an idea of how I do it:

That empty 5:00 slot is where I used to work out, but gave up.

So when I'm late, it isn't that i don't care.  Chances are that my 2 year old wet her pants on the way out the door.  Or one of my older kids can't find a clean pair of socks because they've all been eaten by the dryer.  Or I woke up with a migraine because it was one of the 15 days this month that I've gotten one.  (No, drinking more water will not help.)

I'm not asking strangers to care, but if you know me, please don't say, "I don't know how you do it."  Ask me how I do it.

Ask me how you can pray for me.  Or how you can make my life easier.

Or if you can bring me a cup of coffee and talk during the rare occasional downtime.  Just promise that you won't judge my messy house.

Because I'm trying to do it without falling apart.  But I can't do it all.

Inside the car window

Earlier this week I was rushing to cross the street when I saw a car cross into the other lane to hurriedly make left turn.  He had the nerve to cut off my chance to catch the light.  It was about to go DOWN.

That was, until I saw an IV bag hanging in the back seat.  And my sense of entitlement instantly wore off.

In that split second, I realized this person was probably running to get their child to a procedure.  Or to make it on time to an appointment.  Or they weren’t running late at all, but at the time, obeying traffic laws wasn’t foremost on their mind.  

Once I looked past the surface, it didn’t really matter what the reason was, the solution was to yield.  Because in that moment, I could yield.  My meeting could wait.  They could not. 

I guess I should mention that I happened to be in the Children’s Hospital area.  I’m there often. So you would think I’m always in tune to the fact that people are fighting incredible battles.  As a heart mom, I should know that sometimes following the rules is that extra mile you just can’t take.  But even I forget.  Sometimes I'm too wrapped up in myself that I'm oblivious to what is going on around me.

And honestly, sometimes I am dealing with something that doesn't allow me to be present.  But in that particular moment, I could afford a little kindness.  

It made me think about how much greater life could be if we gave way to others during those times when we could. 

Hey, I’m not saying your problems are less than everyone else’s.  They’re yours and they are real.  And maybe today you are that person who could use compassion and understanding.

But maybe today you’re ok.  You woke up healthy, albeit maybe a little late for work.  And you kissed your children on your way out, then enjoyed your pumpkin spice coffee.

Now you can afford to be a little extra nice to that person who cut you off.  Because that person might just be facing something greater that you can’t see from outside the car window. 

Sometimes, a little kindness can make a world of difference to someone who is struggling not to fall apart.

And someday, we might just be able to find a little kindness granted to us when we need it most.

The other 1 percent

I'm an introvert.
I process everything internally. I could never be one of those people who tell stories about my life in a crowd.  You'll never know how I'm really feeling unless you really try to SEE me. And even then, you'll probably only ever get a portion of truth.

Not only that, I'm a shy introvert.

I thought I might outgrow my shyness.  But it seems to be my outer shell that I can't to shed.
I still get anxious when giving a presentation. Or when I have to say my name and fun fact as we're going around a  group circle.

But strangely enough, I'm a social person.

I'm not the the type of introvert that would rather sit in my pjs every weekend and binge-watch Netflix.  Don't get me wrong, that has it's special place in my heart.  But I barely turn down an invite. I love planning birthday parties for others, but I'm mortified when they do the same for me.
I love being around people.  I love taking them in. Observing from my quiet corner.  Listening, but never being heard.
Photographing but never being seen.  That's part of the reason I love being behind the camera.  I get to see the world from so many different angles, without ever being in focus.

So I'm a Shy Social Introvert (SSI).  Is that even possible?

Are there any others out there?

Back in high school, I took one of those personality tests that spits out a label and lumps you into one of 16 boxes.  To be honest, I enjoyed putting everyone's personality into a neat package with its own special wrapping.  I was always an odd child and the thought that someone out there might relate to me somewhere was fascinating.
Turns out, I was an INFJ. The Mystic. The Counselor. Empath.  Also, a unicorn.
INFJs are only 1-2% of the population.
So there went that. It makes sense that I was always the puzzle piece that never fit.
I was always that kid in the corner with a book trying to experience life through a different skin.  I spent so much of time grieving that the world couldn't just be a beautiful place of connection and acceptance.  Typical of INFJs.

I've taken the test over and over through the years just to see if it has changed.  It hasn't.

Fortunately, as you get older, you learn to accept and celebrate who you are. I like being different. I love living in a rich world full of thoughts so intricate that no one could ever imagine.

And I actually have an INFJ as a best friend--so unicorns do exist.  But they're hard to find, and a lot of them are true introverts, so you'd never know them.

But I've learned that there are some of those rare-breed social INFJs out there as well.
SSIs maybe?  The other 1%?

I wonder if they struggle as much as I do to find that balance between immersion and dissonance.

If they teeter every day between wanting to heal the world or hide away from it all.

If they're trying to find connection in a world full of white noise or just restoring their soul with a good cup of coffee, a Weepies album, and a journal.

Summer is officially kicking the bucket

Its officially here.  One of the most dreaded weeks of the year for me.  The one that marks the end of summer.
All of a sudden, schedules start to pick up and I feel like I need to start adulting again.  No more late nights and missed days of work.  It's time to get back to the grind and start school.

Right--school.

While the rest of America is well inserted in their algebraic equations and spelling bees, we are just getting our school shopping done. Around here, we start school late, and I'm fine with that.

Because I don't just love the summer, I LIVE for the summer.

Summers in New England are short and an experience like no other.   Our summers feel like a long lost friend after we've been shoveling snow well into May.
Time comes to a still as we reaquaint ourselves with the feeling of the sun beaming on our bare face again.  Sun. Warmth. Beauty.  The ocean.  It's heaven.

"Boats", Salem Harbor, Salem MA

To top it off, when you have children, there is something extraordinary about summer.  Most schools close, and it is suddenly common to hear shrieks of laughter in the park during the day again.
One of my favorite things in this world is watching the tiniest of human beings just take it all in.  Experiencing the joy of baby's first time playing in the sand, splashing in a tiny baby pool in the backyard because the temperature has reached a sweltering 100 degrees with 90% humidity.

That is summer in New England for you.  I adore it.  I want to take it all in. Savor every last summer that I get with my children.  18--they say we only get 18 summers with our children out of our 80 or so on this earth.  Taking them in is a must.

"Sandy feet" The Willows, Salem, MA

So every year, I take on a summer photo project to capture these moments of summer.  Because I believe joy should be documented and re-lived.  The past few summers, I have done "100daysofsummer".  1 picture for every day of summer that captures the joy in that day.

I started this after I went through one of the most difficult bouts of depression over a miserable, cold winter.  We were going through some crazy stuff.  We were out of the woods with our HLHS'er, but dealing with the emotional back-log of it all. Our wonderful baby #4 was just born, and we were still crammed in a tiny 2-bedroom apartment.  It was rough.  But amazingly, I did find at least one joyful moment in each day.  Looking through those pictures reminds me that I can get through anything when I find a reason.

This summer, we undertook a summer "photo bucket challenge" to switch it up a bit.  We all had a blast trying to fit it all in and looking for those tiny "aha" moments.

I get the feeling we'll look back at this as "that summer I spent chasing sunsets, camping in the mountains in NH, then on the beach in Maine."

"Blue skies" Nubble Lighthouse, York, Maine

We shared tons of laughs with our longtime friends, and stole a few moments to be alone. We captured tiny pockets of joy packaged in coffee cups, sweet treats, and silent moments.

"A perfect morning " White Lake State Park, NH

See, a bucket list is more than a list of things to do or see before you die. It's a list of things that remind you how to LIVE.

"Fearless"

Three confessions from a Heart Mom

I've been meaning to post about congenital heart defect (CHD) awareness all month, and there is no day like the last day of February to get it in.

Actually, it just so happens that while I've had some thoughts formulating in my mind, the dream I had last week brought up so much emotion, that I needed to put it all in writing.  So here goes...

My son was born with a condition called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS), where the left side of his heart did not fully develop in utero.  He underwent major reconstructive heart surgery starting on his third day of life, again at 2 months, and the last stage at 2 1/2 years.

So many of the emotions I went through during this period have been buried deep in my soul in order to function at a normal level. But every now and then, I get a pang in my heart that forces them all out into the open.

Like when I hear the beeping of a pulse oximeter machine and the anxiety I felt during those sleepless nights when my baby struggled to breathe comes rushing in like a wave of grief.

Or when I see a toy in the baby section and break out sobbing in the middle of Walmart because I recall how it brought just the tiniest smile to his face while he was being poked and proded.

Or when I had to relive those moments in the hospital after his second surgery in my dreams. Seeing him so vividly. Disoriented from the meds. Head pounding from the post-Glenn headache, his thin little body lying on the hospital bed covered in bandages and lines.  My powerlessness so palpable it chokes me up until I awaken.  And I lay in bed deluged with sorrow.

Until it is time to get up, and go about my day as usual.  Because here is my first confession as a heart mom:

1. I secretly suffer from PTSD.  I don't talk about it often because most people can't understand or think everything is fine now that your "past it".  But here's the thing: you NEVER get over watching your child go through something like that.  You remember every moment, every smell, every detail of the surgeries where you hand over your child, unknowing how, or if he will return.
You don't simply forget the endless weeks spent away from your other children, sitting in a hospital desperately trying to keep up with the medical jargon and decision-making.
You don't forget seeing your child covered in lines and bandages.  You don't forget the chest tubes or the pain in his eyes.  It haunts you for years, even when he is doing well.

And he truly is doing well now.

2. So well that I sometimes experience survivor guilt.  I call it confession number 2 because I haven't expressed this out loud before.  During my pregnancy, I prayed so much that this nightmare would all go away and not be true.  And when I couldn't pray it away, I prayed for a miracle.  For my baby to soar through his surgeries with flying colors.  And he did.  God answered my prayers and calmed everyone of my fears.  My boy is 5 years old now.  He has achieved every milestone and if it weren't for his scar, you would never know there is anything different about him.  He IS my miracle.

But I know this isn't always the case with children with HLHS.  I read the stories of the angels that didn't make it, or the ones that struggle to the point of needing a heart transplant.  It breaks my heart.  I grieve with the moms that don't get to watch their babies grow.  And at the same time I feel slightly guilty for being so blessed.  I wouldn't change a single thing about how our journey has transpired, but sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this miracle.
Is there such a thing as too blessed?  And if I am too blessed, does it put me at more risk to lose everything?


Which brings me to my last confession.

3. I still worry.  Children with HLHS are never "cured".  The surgeries are meant to circumvent the fact that the left side of the heart can't pump oxygen to the body.  Children with HLHS are always at greater risk when facing common illnesses like the flu; risk of stroke; risk of liver fibrosis; risk of needing a heart transplant later in life.  Risk. Risk. Risk.
And I worry about how he will deal with life as he grows.  What if he is ashamed of his scar?  What if he wants to try extreme sports but physically cannot do it?  What if? What if? What if?
So, while I try to keep my calm, some days I am overwhelmed with anxiety.  Because our battle is not over.  Every day with my heart warrior is a miracle.

I know there is inheirent risk in everything.  And no one can control anything by worrying.  I remind myself of this often.

So I tuck all this anxiety deep in the same little box where I keep my guilt and everything else that comes along with the PTSD of being a Heart Mom.
And I bury this little box in the part of my soul that rarely sees the light of day.
Because as a Heart Mom, I want to spend every second I can watching my warrior conquer life.

If you havent noticed, here's a bonus confession, (#4) I have a hard time hiding how proud I am of him.  He's my superhero.

Who do you love?

I think I've reached the point in my life and my marriage, where I can say, with all the maturity and sophistication in the world, that Valentine's Day is legit, just another useless "holiday" on the calendar.  My husband and I know we love each other and we try our best to show each other everyday.  My tween girls are over it, aside from the prospect of extra chocolate, especially tomorrow when it goes on sale!

But my babies still enjoy it, so I have to admit that I did get up at the break of dawn to make heart-shaped chocolate-chip pancakes.  And it made my heart happy that everyone was excited this morning.

But it only made me happy for a while.

Because shortly after eating a pancake, I received a visit from one of my gremlins.  You know that gremlin that visits to tell you that you're a bad person, or ugly, or in my case, too fat to be eating chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?   

Yeah, that one.

And how quickly the spiral of self hate begins:
"You're a mess"
"You're not good enough"
"You're failing at life"


I know a lot of this stems from years of battling depression, but I also know I'm not the only one.  We all do this to ourselves.  It starts sometime around the age of 6.  I know because my two youngest children still think they're the center of the universe and can do no wrong.  But my tweens, I know they're starting to face these gremlins.  And it terrifies me.  Because I hate the thought of someone I love so much seeing themselves as less than I see them.

My children are hardly perfect--actually, they're pretty close, but they have their little things.  You know what I mean.  We all have those little faults.  But I couldn't imagine for one minute not loving them for being exactly who they are, including "those little things" that make them not so perfect.  But why can't I love those things in myself?  How can looking at a picture of myself or in the mirror bring so much disgust to my throat?  I know people who love me don't see me that way, but I do.

So many of us do.  Which is a shame because the one person we can't get rid of, is ourselves.  We know we should love ourselves, but we can't.  At least we think we can't.



If I were to ask you on this here Valentine's Day, who do you love?  Who are the 3 most important people in your life?  You'd probably say, "My significant other" or "my children", "mom", etc. Who would actually put themselves on that list and mean it?
And I don't mean that vain form of self-love and selfishness, which is often just a cover-up for insecurity.  I mean the same type of unconditional love you feel for your spouse or your children.  The same kind of love our creator has for us.

Coincidentally, today is also Ash Wednesday, which I don't "observe" per se, but it still a reminder to do a little reflection.  A reminder that all these little imperfections that aren't really facebook-post-worthy are still a part of who we are and what makes God love us.

Yes, even our actual faults.  Because sometimes embracing that we are by nature, shy, or lazy, or indulgent, or you name it...opens the door for us to overcome those weaknesses, or use them to inspire others.  It allows Grace to be sufficient for us.

My depression is probably the #1 item on my list of self-hates.  That is definitely a post (or several) in itself.  But while it is the biggest battle I have to face almost daily, I know it also gives me the gift of introspection and is a constant reminder to show my family how much I love them.

So today, I am choosing to love myself.  Depression and all.  Faults and all.  And I will go for a run.  Not because I ate too much, but because it is a beautiful day and I want to bask in it and feel good.

I am going to love myself.

This is my passion, I'm sticking to it

Several eons ago, I decided that I love to write. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to write a cohesive novel, as I would like to do someday.
But it seems that on a daily basis, I have these random musings and I think to myself--I should write about that.  People can relate.  Then, maybe someday, a collection of these musings would make a great novel.
But right now, I can write my daily musings.  And people can respond.  And there can be some dialogue to the incessant thoughts that run through my brain.

Or maybe no one will read it.

Maybe I'll be throwing my words in the wind.

But just maybe, when I'm gone, my children will find it.  And they'll be able to know just how much they inspired me.  Inspired me to love.  To take in the moments.  To learn.  To be wise.


And honestly, they'll also see how sometimes they drove me to madness.  So much madness, that I had to write.

Because parenting is hard work.  It is gut-wrenching, messy, and at times, thank-less.

But it is what God has called me to do in this life.  And I plan to do it to the full.  With some laughs and hopefully some insightful wisdom along the way.

So I'm picking this blogging thing back up.  Let me know if I'm making sense, and if you love it.  If you hate it, keep it to yourself--I don't need that negativity in my life.

Let's begin (again).