But I like my head in the sand…what???


Have you ever found yourself wanting to just drop away from reality for awhile?  Things get complicated or overwhelming or even downright frightening and you just want to disappear from that part of life while finding a tiny season of blissful forgetfulness and enjoyment?  Oh, brother, I have.

I love my children and, overall, my life, with wild abandon.  We deal with trying times (after all, I have a teen and preteen now) and difficult days  but, through it all, they are mine, this life is mine, and I will never cease seeking the answers to why it didn’t go a certain way or how it is “supposed to go” from this point forward.  I know there are times that I have done it all wrong.  Am I doing it right, now?  This is not purposed by self-denigration but, rather, by a yearning for self-discovery.  I think that, overall in my life, I have typically been in such a rush to be happy that I have taken enjoyable moments and made lifelong decisions based on temporary enchantment.  At some point, I look back at said resolutions (and revolutions) and think….”why didn’t I just slow down and try a little objectivity before that one?”  I can actually often look back and remember hearing a little voice inside my head saying “This is probably not the best decision but, well, you’re happy right now; feels good, right?…You can figure out how to be happy again after this happy wears off…”  Ughhhh.  I’m disgusted with the asinine absurdity of that whole idea and yet, yep, that’s been me.  Most euphoria is temporary but it’s circumstances can take much longer to be relinquished than originally embarked upon.

Take marriage for example.  A happy “honeymoon” period is like the teasing and tantalizing effect of a drug.  Exhilaration, euphoria, optimism, mirth and enchantment are your companion emotions at the start.  At some point after that, however, the desire to run away will surface.  Somewhere along the path to longevity, I think we all find ourselves in a spot saying…”what did I get myself into and how can I get out?”  Now, I’m not saying that everyone should get out at that point.  This is just the moment of truth at which you make a decision to stand and fight for it and for a better understanding of how it should work, sit and cower under the feelings of self-pity and self-loathing, or jump ship and run like hell to the nearest exit sign as the fire licks at your heels.  The “drug” wears off and the low kicks in.  Or the hangover, if that’s easier to understand.  And this doesn’t have to be about marriage.  Pick your own analogy and insert here: ________.  Chase high, escape low, ad nauseum with no completion.

I think I often want to spend too much of my time with my head in the sand.  I mean, ostriches are kind of cool birds.  Granted, they have the mental capability of a toddler in a peek-a-boo routine (if I can’t see you, you can’t see me) but they are still regal in their own way.  Or if I take a deep breath once in awhile and plunge my head beneath the water, it is quieter there.  The sunlight glitters across the bottom of the cerulean pool, chaotic noise is dramatically muffled and the weightless feel of the gentle rock, to and fro, of the water is calming.  If I didn’t need to breathe, I could live there…well, except that divas don’t actually like to get all pruny.  But we can choose to take a break from reality sometimes.  The “I need to run!” urge can be settled a little as long as the break is temporary and is not a way to avoid truths.

So, how does one decide whether the current longitude and latitude of life is the vacation spot or the permanent homestead?  I need to learn a long-sought ability to step back from a situation and to veritably see some kind of truth in it.  Is the run-and-hide instinct just a product of my miserable failings prior to this intersection of life or is it a visceral instinct, animalistic and primal in nature but necessary for survival?

(((sigh))) Just new…well, maybe not so new but resurfaced…points to ponder for the day…and night, as it would seem.  Somehow it feels as if a fairy princess dress and tiara with some rockin’ high kicks (sparkly ones, of course) should just fix things.  Diva dreams…

The Beginning of My Success


It is always difficult to begin a new journal.  I stare at blank pages and wonder where to start.  In order to begin, there has to have been an ending.  What has ended?  How does one ever know what “endings” are temporary and what is truly over…completed?  This past year has been riddled with changes and yet I don’t know what of these are starts or finishes.  As odd as that seems, it is but a miniature diorama of life.  I have learned one thing well:  the only constant in life is change.

Even love is not constant and is ever-changing.  The only constant love exists between you and God, who loves as an eternal parent even when you misbehave, and the love between a parent – the worldly kind – and their own child(ren).  This love is one that never, ever goes away, always grows exponentially and never fades…even when you feel it is undeserved.  Children will one day grow to understand this parental love (I hope I see mine grow to know it.) and only then will God’s love make more sense.

All of that being said, I’m looking at this new year knowing that all of the yesterdays have gone and I am left with a pile of total gains and losses to try to place in some assemblage of order so that I can start with a new plan of action.  I am not good with order and organization, however much I would love to be.

Where to start?  I know a few things that I want to be solid foundation in this particular beginning.

1.) I am an independent and strong woman.  I don’t need a man and his affection or love or expectations in order to live, survive and even thrive.  I won’t deny wanting to have someone near to care about me…someone who is there by my side when I am lonely, sick, scared or just plain happy and wanting to share that with someone special who will understand and be happy that I’m happy.  I do not, however, need someone else to make me happy.  I have learned that I am capable of happiness and contentment all by myself.

2.) God is an integral and essential part of who I am, deep inside.  He must become, again, part of who I am on the outside.  I will face challenges of the opinions of others during this conversion of appearance.  I have walked far outside the path of where I believe I am supposed to be. This, it itself, is a personal recognition of need and is not open for speculation or criticism of others.  To stray from my current path in an attempt to traverse rough terrain while laboring to converge with a path on “higher ground” will mean facing sandspurs, sharp rocks and steep, overbearing hills.  The worst of these metaphorical pitfalls are actually other people who seem to love nothing more than to tear down another.  I will walk among them, around them and even right beside them if that is what it takes to reach my desired and, yes, necessary destination.

3.) I will bring my children on every essential leg of this journey.  I always know they are watching me closely; if they can see the struggle of my exploration, perhaps they will be able to avoid some of the difficulties in the trek that I have taken.  I wish for my boys to never have to traverse the thorny fields I have travelled these last years, even though I have learned much and still experienced some great joys in the pilgrimage.

I hold these things up not as resolutions which I believe, by design, are destined to be broken.  I lay them before myself as a map to a new place.  I seek a place of peace, contentment and self-respect.  I want my whole life to have the sensation that I feel while laying in my big, comfortable bed, surrounded by my three boys and fluffy comforters, with a funny movie on the television and their giggles erupting around me.  If my whole life could feel just like that moment, my life could be nothing but a total success.

Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself


Worry.  Apprehension.  Uncertainty.  Vexation.  Disquiet.  Anxiety.  Doubt.

So many words to describe such a hazardous, emotional behavior.  I have always thought myself to be an optimist but have awakened to a rude new discovery.  Somewhere along the crooked path that has become the road map of my life, I have pulled a light-blocking curtain between myself and positivism.  My rose-colored glasses have become scratched and somehow their shape is warped, seeming to improperly fit my face.  Confidence, exhilaration, self-assurance and even sanguineness all seem to have taken flight as well.  These words, these “things” that once exuded from my very pores and encompassed my whole outlook on life and which also defined whom I was to others, now appear to have waltzed off in some lively dance toward another banquet affair that must have seemed more appealing to attend than my own.  My own soiree has somehow become less enticing to such honored guests.

Now, as I sit like a wallflower lamenting my misfortune at having been the less-appealing option for the ever-sought “popular crowd” of emotions and behavioral accoutrements, I am at a loss for methods of captivating their attentions once again.  How can I lure these seemingly elusive characters back to my daily demeanor?  I brawl daily with the darkened antonyms of my desired disposition, thrashing and deflecting in a fruitless skirmish against intangible adversaries.  I do not know how to struggle against the unseen or to traverse a path around their camp in order to reach my own prior enchanting encampment.  The glow of twinkling lights that identify the convivial mindset to whence I wish to return seem to tease and taunt me from the distance at times, but only when I even become aware that they have been replaced by sinister counterparts.

The metamorphosis of my overall perspective has been so subtle over many years that I scarcely noticed the change.  At one time people would have described me as buoyant, lighthearted, cheerful, spirited and positive.  I most always had a contagious smile and reflected a persona that was repeatedly referred to as “bubbly”.  With these personality traits also came encouragement and reinforcement for others who struggled against despair or even just a plateau of uniformity in their own lives.  I wanted others to be capable of experiencing the joie de vivre that I enjoyed.  I am perplexed by the realization that I am no longer that individual and by the oddly imperceptible journey that has led me here.

Yesterday was one of the days that allowed, nay, demanded that I recognize the transformation of my identity.  Having received news to be thankful for, the fact that I had fretted needlessly over these results for days struck me with the force of a lightning strike.  Minutes, hours, days spent imagining what would need to be done had the outcome been negative.  Everyone battles anxiety at times yet my “old self” would have said “don’t borrow trouble” or “no sense in worrying over what may not be”.  The concerns would have been floating around behind my thoughts rather than taking them over with the rumble of a volcano about to erupt.

Today I am searching for an alley in which to duck until the villainous qualities have dashed past my hiding place and lost me in their pursuit.  I want to stand quietly there until they are out of sight and then scamper quickly in the opposite direction towards my old companions whose company was always substantially more affable and satisfying.  Enchantment, vivacity, mirth and hopefulness must be just down the road, if only I can see the horizon on which the sun is setting so as to get my bearings…

Trudging backwards…wish me luck.

A Woman In Search Of A Word


In Search of My Word...Liz’s friend:  “What word are you?”  Liz:  “Hmm…started off as daughter. Was pretty good at that. Wife…not so good at that. Girlfriend…not so good.”  Friend:  “Maybe you are a woman in search of a word…”  ~ Eat Pray Love ♥ ~

I do believe I am in search of my word.  In the movie Liz suggested “writer” as her own and her friend said “That is what you do; it is not who you are.”  My own mind mimics that wanting to say “nurse” or “caregiver” because it is what I love and it feels like a part of me to put my hands and words on injured or failing bodies and souls and try to help somehow but I am rarely able to practice that as my work now.  Taking care of my children or of my patients feels as if it gives me purpose and something I am known to be capable and even skilled at doing.  There is also the predicament that my skills of lifting the spirits of others were much more efficacious when God was wrapped around my life as a silken cocoon of protection before I allowed a rip of denigration to assault His guardianship.  The resulting flock of moths that swarmed the opening and drowned out the light have never retreated, thus weakening my ability to render the cultivation of the aforementioned gift.  I often find myself wanting to reach out to soothe and end up in a self-wounding battle of alternating self-loathing and self-pity.  These are things which I know lack nobility, humility and honor but which seem to circle in an ever-present, exhausting tidal wave of emotion.

These words, however, would still be a title for “what I do” and not “who I am”.  So I am, indeed, a woman in search of my own word.  It should be a word which tells me who I am and what I mean or what I am to contribute to this world.  It should be a word that defines my being so acutely that I no longer allow anyone to swathe me with their own elucidation.  It should be a word that thwarts my own unwanted desire to allow anyone else to be or choose my word for me.  Notice I did not say “It should be a word that tells OTHERS…”; others would not need to know my word because they will be able to sense who I am based on the fruits of my labor and perhaps even by my existence in the circle of my life that overlaps with the circle of their own.  Possession and knowledge of such a powerful tool as a character-encompassing idiom could breathe new life into my life.  I feel that I need a word, one word, all my own to remind me that I do not need any other titles to define me.   But does such a word even exist?

The realizations strikes me suddenly, like the comedic hand-slap to the head of a stooge, that trying to find one’s “word” sounds as if attempting to allow only one description for a multitude of characteristics.  I am aware that one person can “be” many things to many people.  It is not my attributes that I wish to entitle but my purpose.  I grasp the idea that there is no single word that is capable of explaining to another that which demonstrates an overall encirclement of my personality and being.  I simply seek this word as a foundation on which to build my own understanding of who I am.  I can represent different words to different people but knowing which one I represent to myself is paramount in seeking to slay the dragons of past failures and defend my fortress from future blitzkrieg.  Each antecedent onslaught has come in such a lightning-fast manner that I felt unprepared to protect my own walls and thus their bricks dropped miserably around me in forgotten rag-doll fashion and have since disintegrated into clouds of choking dust.  Knowing my “word”, in my mind, is the epitome of raising a forcefield around one’s encampment.  Once I know who I am, I will no longer feel I need the approval and recognition of others in order to merely survive.  Instead I will not only survive but LIVE as who I am and not what others expect me to be.  And yet again I am forced to inquire as to whether such a word exists that can provide all of these protections.

So today I begin my quest.  The territory may often seem uncharted and the forests dark and unwelcoming.  The people oft appear villainous but some are indeed utilitarian and will help at the cost of their own sacrifice of time and efforts for the betterment of the kingdom.  I shall go on to seek my personal holy grail and do not intend to cease searching until I find the verbal accoutrement that will allow me to map my life’s path in years to come.

Who am I?  I am now a woman in search of a word.