Author: buildingalifeofhope

My name is Kim. I believe that life always allows us an opportunity for genuine connections with others. I believe in waking up each day, not with dread about what's ahead, but with the idea to expect the unexpected. What a miracle! There was a time in my life that I became voiceless; I lost my sense of self. Now I am learning how to live out loud and appreciate the small blessings (even the ones in disguise!) that my new life has given me. Through this blog, I hope to promote humor, honesty and humility and share the knowledge that no one is ever alone in any struggle that they may face.

Seismic Shifts and Cosmic Changes

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman4 Comments

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“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”
― Lao Tzu

Sometimes I am often in awe of the changes that have happened in my life in the past six years. The tumult, turmoil and triumph have been terrifying and tremendous transitions. But why be reflective of the changes? Why not be consciously aware of the transformations as we move forward in our lives?

When changes are traumatic and dramatic, it is difficult to embrace the idea that your life will be different. And in reality, when hard times knock on your door, you just want to get them over with!  The good news is that major life changes-whether good or bad- don’t happen everyday-thank goodness!

Change happens constantly and most of the time we don’t notice it because it is so subtle.  Perhaps this is one of the reasons I love to run so much. My early morning routine has allowed me to notice even the smallest of things. Winter running tests your dedication-it is mostly dark and very cold and often icy. But if you move through the short period of blackness, you begin to notice the shift from dark to dawn.  One of my favorite times is when both the sun and moon hang opposite of each other in the sky.   For me, it is a sign that living a life of balance can help provide awareness of  the beauty of each day. I also think that I have greater tenacity when my ying and yang can hang together nicely.

Back in October, I wrote about transitions and the conflict  (within ourselves and between loved ones) that can sometimes arise during these times. I wonder, though, if the conflict comes about because of either a lack of communication or because of  a lack of being cognizant of the changes taking place in our lives?  Or does it show up because we don’t always control the change? Or is it all three?

I am blessed with deep friendships and loving family connections and it is through these relationships that I have come to understand that all of us are undergoing realignments in our lives.  And let’s just throw out the old cliche’ of  “mid-life crisis” as THE major life change while we are at it. My soul sister is journeying through a small multitude of refinements in her life that include navigating through her daughter’s teenage years, seeing her oldest off to college, pondering a possible change in her long time nursing career and- most recently- preparing to say goodbye to the family’s beloved dog. A long time friend and her family (who lived here all of their lives) just moved two cities away. The move is no doubt a positive moment in their life. She finally feels at home. But it is also strange. She said to me: “For so long I turned left; now I have to turn right.”

Sometimes it is hard to watch our own parents make changes in their lives as well. I had a wonderful conversation with my seventy-seven year old father this morning. It was enlightening to listen to him as he related some of the shifts he is making in his own life. I think for some of us (including myself) it is hard to imagine that our older parents would develop new relationships or lessen their involvement in life-long interests in order to pursue new things. We want them to stay the same because that is all we have known our whole life.

I suppose the same holds true for my sons. I will be getting married and moving away within the next two years. For them, mom has been the sturdy rock in their lives. This house is their “base camp.” So it is a little freaky that I will not be here most of the time! But we are working our way through this change together.  The timing is good for their ages.  It helps that they live more in the real adult world where they can practice independence.  And the goals that  they have are ones that will have them feeling safe and secure upon my departure. I have seen my sons mature more in the last six months than I have in a long while.  This is a good sign.

As for me, I am both anxious and excited during this time. It will not be easy to leave an area that I have known all my life- a place where I have embedded community connections and relationships. But a huge part of my life is now elsewhere awaiting its next phase. I am ready to embrace it!  In the meantime, I can honestly say that I am enjoying the journey to my next destination thanks to the loving support of my fiance’,  my family and  my friends.

A Cheerful Countenance

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman, Uncategorized2 Comments

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Have respect for yourself, and patience and compassion. With these, you can handle anything.

This morning I woke up to the light. Normally, of course, my day starts off in darkness; I like to get my run in before work and visit my morning buddies as well. But today is Sunday and rainy with a forecast of more snow later today. The birds are out, looking for the small morsels of food on the surface of the melting snow. Perhaps spring is near? My hope is that my run will not be disrupted by the seasonal hazard of black ice-such a drag for dedicated runners like myself!

The past week ended with a celebration. My youngest son turns 20 in a few days so we had a surprise birthday party for him last night.  The gathering was not large-just enough friends and family not to make it overwhelming for him.  For me, the night was the perfect metaphor for our present life. Laughter, love and the feeling that we were all at “home”.  As the party was winding down, I went upstairs to retrieve the coats for two of the guests. The sounds of boisterous conversation filled the house and my heart- a needed reminder that my life is beyond good.

Everyday I say the I am grateful and lucky. But there are times when I am utterly human-challenged by the things that I want more of in my life-money, time with my fiance’, etc. There are things that I want less of as well- the responsibilities of  home ownership (I know there’s a dead mouse somewhere in my basement-the stench is horrible!), less worries about the boys’ independent financial future and mine as well. And dealing with anything from my past can at times leave me with an emotional hangover.  I am sure that I could go on, but really, not one of us escapes life’s woes, worries, or trials.

The difference is simple. How we react, respond or move through conflict and challenge makes a huge difference in how life can treat us. And yes it is all about karma. I shared a meal with a friend of mine last week. We have recently gotten to know one another and he seemed surprised if not curious about my three recent stories regarding the abuse and other personal struggles that I had experienced. He has observed me consistently being cheerful and upbeat and wondered, is it real?

The winter climate makes for a contemplative season. I try to embrace it without examining my navel too much. I try  to allow for the clearing of my perceptive lenses during this season while I anxiously await the coming of spring.  In his recent blog post, “How about a Short Sermon?”, Rob Bell speaks of the difference between analysis and awareness  as he takes a second look at Psalm 118: “This is the Day that God has made.” He writes of how easy it is to become cynical about the war, poverty, divorce, addiction and betrayal that surrounds daily. He wonders,  Really, God made this? For him and for me it is not about getting stuck in the muck of life nor is it about “glossing over”  its horrors. It is about the awareness that yes it is ” rough and bloody and heartbreaking” but it is also full of beautiful potential and possibility.

February has been the month that has forced me to get down and dirty with both my present and my past and I suppose my future as well.  The process is both difficult and healthy. I had not realized that for some period in my life that corruption and abuse had become normal. Talk about glossing over! We cannot allow ourselves or anyone we care about to be maligned by others who believe that they have power and control over us. They are at ease with twisting the truth in order to not face the truth about themselves. Some of them are beyond redemption.

So what am I aware of?  That we don’t have to stay stuck.  That we have to consistently outsmart the corrupting influences in our lives. That life and love can begin anew. And is my cheerful disposition for real? Yes!

When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.

Everyday Love

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent WomanLeave a comment

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Oh, the comfort – the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person – having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

I am glad that Valentine’s Day is over! Don’t get me wrong, I am by nature a hopeless romantic. But I find that our culture celebrates a false notion of love on this particular day. Is love really about jewelry, fancy restaurants, flowers, or the most expensive Hallmark card? Like I said to my fiance’, ” I don’t need this one day for you to show your love for me.”  Moreover, it can make those individuals who are not part of a couple feel left out and even unworthy of love.

I do not believe that love can actually be defined; it is too big of an idea and feeling to be boxed in by a metaphorical dictionary. But I would like to get down to the nitty-gritty of what love really is and its importance in our routine, sometimes mundane lives. During the blizzard last week, I came across the well-known I Corinthians passage:  Love is patient, love is kind, etc.  This is recited ad nauseum at weddings and as a result (at least for me) it has lost its sincerity.  Perhaps if more of us were actually paying attention and practicing its message, we would have more long-lasting and healthy relationships with our partners, friends and family.

I first learned the power and fierceness of love when I became a mother. Children have a way of forcing you to get outside of yourself. My sons taught me the beauty of ordinary moments-holding hands, hugs, smiles and laughter. Reading books, playing games and just being together were enough for both them and me. They taught me patience (although it took a long time!). Each of my sons was born a unique individual-not a reflection of me or their father. They helped me to understand and accept them for who they are and not what our culture expects them to be as males. Through them, I learned that love is transcendental; I will never forget the look of love that my parents had  the moment they first met my sons. Love abides deep within all of us, no doubt.

I learned what love was not through their father. I Corinthians states: “Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way.”  In healthy partnerships, there is always room for support, rejoicing in one another’s accomplishments, listening to each other’s concerns and always, always kindness. I heard one too many times: “If you don’t like it, there’s the door.” I thought that by loving him and providing him with two beautiful sons, it would be enough to ease his restless heart. But for him it was better to be irritable, resentful and to rejoice in wrongdoing.

The antithesis of abuse is love.  It is through my beloved that I rejoice in truth and true love. When we first started dating, my fiance’ said: “We can make this a vacation relationship or a normal relationship. I want to go to church with you, spend time with the boys and help you with things around the house. I want to meet your friends.” In essence, he wanted to be with me.

Everyday Love is what brings us peace. I am at once astounded and amazed by the positive energy that is brought through the simplest of acts of love. Just yesterday, as I was coming home from the movies, I noticed that two lights were left on for my arrival. My oldest left them on for me as he knew that I would be coming back in the dark. Today, his girlfriend shoveled in front of the garage so I could get things done in the house (writing this piece and baking brownies!). Everyday Love is what keeps us safe and secure. My youngest doesn’t need me to be Superwoman or to provide him with material things; he wants what was partly missing for him in the past four years. A present parent-one who listens, supports his endeavors and provides a soft place to land. As for me, I wanted a level of intimacy with a man that rose above the physical relationship ( not that I any qualms with that!). My fiance’ loves me unconditionally. He believes in me. He is humble in his generosity towards me and my sons. His Everyday Love is at once a nirvana, an oasis and one that never ends.

Somebody That I Used to Know*

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman8 Comments

Today a new sun rises for me; everything lives, everything is animated, everything seems to speak to me of my passion, everything invites me to cherish it.

~ Anne De Lenclos

Last week’s post was a cathartic experience for me.  For too long, I had an inner itch that I could not scratch.  I welcome the relief!  What is truly amazing, however, is the positive results-both outward and inward-that my reflection brought to me.  Carol Burnett says: “Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own.”  I am hopeful, of course, that my words will help others who struggle with self- identity and loving themselves first.

In the short term, my life has taken on yet another layer of lightness. As we journey down life’s path, I believe it is important to peel back and let go of anything or anyone that has a negative affect on you. Say what you need to say, do what you need to do and keep on moving!

This week, two colleagues of mine shared some observations with me. One said, “I want you to take out some photos of yourself from years past up to the present so that you can see your transformation.”  She went on to say: “You have changed on a molecular level.” WHOA!! I guess I hadn’t noticed!  Still another said, “What is it that you are doing? You have a gleam and glow about you!” I attributed the latter compliment to my diet and exercise regimen and the fact that I am in a healthy relationship. I also love my job, my sons and all other aspects of my life-both big and small. But the former compliment comes from someplace else.

So I guess this is why writing last week’s post was so relevant. By writing about the person who is a link to my past, I have been able to come a little more forward about the trauma of  the emotional and verbal abuse that was at the root of my marriage. I am not ready to actually share all of the details about it; although many of my friends and family have known those bits for a long time. It actually took until my marriage was over to fully admit what had happened. Still worse, the boys have shared what they remember about their father- what he said to me and about me and how he treated me.

I had a bit of an epiphany earlier this week. It came as a result of some issues between my youngest son and his girlfriend. Luckily, they both  deeply care about one another-enough to work through some problems together and seek my advice as well. Unfortunately, some of the problems that both my sons have had with their father come into play in their relationships at times. They deal with it as best they can while at the same time  fear becoming like him. A tough place to be for sure!

But the situation between my son and his girlfriend got me thinking about the repetitive pattern that abuse can sometimes take if it is  not squelched from the beginning. And for me, this goes back to my experiences during my marriage. At its deepest level, abuse comes from a sense of abandonment. At some point in a potential abuser’s life, they have been left either physically and/ or emotionally bereft by a significant relationship. Over time, this can lead to a lack of trust in all relationships, but most especially when there is a significant other involved. Those who feel abandoned carry the pain of those past (and sometimes present) hurts with them. Often, it can also be a form of grief over a broken relationship. If not addressed, the pain can and will manifest itself in anger-almost always towards the one or ones you love but never at the person or people who hurt you in the first place. Worst still, the anger can lead to abuse-always towards the ones closest to you. If the abuse continues and professional help is not sought, the abuser becomes a permanently broken and damaged person.

And this is what almost happened to me. I was abused by my husband slowly and insidiously over the course of the marriage. Over time, I become an increasingly angry person who took out some of her pain on her children. I was an anxious and panic ridden woman who was nearly broken by my abuser. Thankfully, I got help before it was too late. As I began to stand up for myself and not project my hurt onto my sons any longer,  I began to advocate more for my own needs (and those of the boys). But the abuse got worse. He became increasingly silent, secretive and neglectful. As the three of us drew closer together, he grew further away from us. He was absent a lot-especially on weekends. And when he was home, he was never “present” and was very often angry upon his return from his weekend excursions.

So he decided to leave. The next 14 months were horrendous but I was stronger than I thought I was. I continued to get help as did my sons. Their dad continued to devolve and make poor decisions. My youngest son moved in with him. He needed to be with his father-in his mind if he lived with him he would not be left again. Over time, he got to know his father on his own terms. My oldest, on the other hand, tells me he figured out his father when he was fourteen- two years before he left! And now my youngest is back with me after enduring the same abusive situation as I once did.

And here is where we’ve landed. My youngest is struggling with the pain of a broken and hurtful relationship with his dad. He doesn’t like how he feels and wants to be better. So, he is getting help-Hooray!  His girlfriend is wonderful; she wants to go with him if he needs her. He knows that he is not a bad or even a broken person. He knows that he has a big heart and  wants more than anything to become a whole man.

You may ask yourself,  “What is this layer of  lightness that she is speaking of?”  Well, because of today’s blizzard, I was able to enjoy some very lovely extended time with my Starbucks friends. Per usual, the link to my past appeared ( she is my ex-husband’s current girlfriend) but  I was not at all bothered. Shortly thereafter, I noticed that she was speaking to a man-nothing unusual- and this man was with a young girl. It looked like they had come in from the bagel shop next door. Their conversation continued until they departed, passing my group as they exited.  Then it occurred to me-this man was my ex-husband! I had not recognized him at all!

I had just experienced a fantastic breakthrough. A feeling of complete emotional disconnect. Never in my life would I have ever thought that I would not recognize the father of my children-a person that I had been with for 22 years.  It was wonderfully uplifting, joyful and empowering. It means that I have come to a peaceful place with the pain of my abusive marriage. ( I want the same for my youngest son and hope that someday he can forgive his father).

The person I was when I was with him no longer exists. She is just somebody that I used to know.

* With thanks to Gotye!

On Being a Bold Woman

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman20 Comments

Credit: interviewsaloud.comOne of the most courageous things you can do is identify yourself, know who you are, what you believe in and where you want to go. – Sheila Murray Bethel.

On a recent morning, I was enjoying my usual morning visit at my local Starbucks, chatting with the staff and the other regulars whom I see daily. The store has always been a positive community connection for me. I can honestly say that I have never met someone that I have not liked having a conversation with-even if it is just for five minutes.

Beginning last spring, however, a person with a link to my past began to frequent the establishment at the same time as me. I tried not to make too much of these “coincidences”, but I did feel forced to be on my guard. Lately, the frequency of this person’s appearances has increased and my sons have even  found themselves in uncomfortable and insinuating situations with this person in the recent past.  So needless to say, when this person was in close proximity to a conversation I was having last week, I was not pleased.

I want my morning experience at the store to be one of the highlights of my day. And I want to handle negative circumstances with grace. But I could not help but feel that this person was acting boldly. And I could help but think that her “boldness” had negative connotations attached to it.

Later, at work, I began to question my thoughts on this feeling. So, I asked my colleagues to tell me what they think being a bold woman means. Still later, I asked other women and men outside of work. Their responses helped me to rethink my own reaction to my experience. More importantly, they helped me to redefine and refine the other person’s actions more appropriately.

So here goes (with credit to Jen, Jeff, Pam, Art, Gretchen and Pat and any others I may have forgotten):

A bold woman is authentic and committed to her own personal values. She stays true to who she is. A bold woman is loaded with courage, understands the risks at hand but still takes a leap of faith. A bold woman never settles; she keeps moving forward even when it is not popular. She is daring in the face of cultural limits, expectations and conventions. A bold woman is a person with only the highest of confidences and a will strong enough to defeat any obstacle or achieve any ambition. A bold woman does not apologize unnecessarily and isn’t afraid to be called a bitch. ( How many times have you done the former and been afraid to be the latter?). She stands firmly in her beliefs with an unwavering heart.

A bold woman is confident in her own skin. A bold woman inspires others to be awesome. A bold woman knows her strengths and weaknesses, but chooses to be the best she can be at all times. A bold woman speaks up for what she believes in. A bold woman will not let others control her fate nor her emotions. A bold woman is proud of herself. A bold woman does not make excuses. She takes responsibility and makes a plan to be better every day. A bold woman inspires, not just with her words but with her actions as well. You can feel a bold woman’s energy from across the room; a bold woman knows the power of silence. But, in the face of a challenge, a bold woman says: “Bring it on!” A bold woman is not offensive, rude, or condescending. She inspires others to be the best they can be.

I allowed myself to fall victim to a false cultural perception of what it means to be a bold woman. I am a big believer in the hidden messages or lessons that can come from challenging encounters, situations, or people.  The recent spate of “accidental circumstances” have shown me that this person is far from being bold.  You can draw your own conclusions regarding her character traits. However, I am grateful that she helped remind me of what a bold woman really is. AND she called attention to the fact that I AM A BOLD WOMAN.  For me it is all that truly matters.

“I’m my own sovereign nation, dedicated to a transformation…”

from “It’s Alright” by Dar Williams

 

 

Paying It Forward

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You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.

– Henry Drummond

This morning I went out for my usual longer Sunday run.  The weather was a frigid fifteen degrees but the wind was not up yet. It seemed down right balmy compared to the temperatures we have had these last few days when it was just a single degree! The sun was out-sitting low on the January horizon and I thought it would be a good day to work on my polar tan.

Sometimes on Sundays I feel rushed because I teach high school Sunday School each week. We have a committed crew of five teachers and work best when our lessons are shot from the hip. I had a feeling that our staff levels would be down this week so I could not give into temptation and skip out on my obligations to the youth of my community.  I arrived a bit late to find just a half-dozen teenagers waiting patiently in the chapel. I was followed quickly by another teacher and off we went on an enlightening Sunday morning discussion.

When I don’t want to show up and hang out at home (or even attend a full worship service), I remember the gifts that my faith community has given me. I forge ahead with the morning and I never have any regrets about going and giving my energy and time to others. Something wonderful and unexpected always happens as a result.

Lately I have gotten to thinking about those times when either others have helped me or when I have had a negative experience that could have easily ruined my day or week. It is easy to take another person’s good nature or generosity for granted. It is easy to be selfish- especially when you are undergoing a traumatic time that seems never-ending. I know I have been this way;  I have not been on my best behavior when things got really difficult. Luckily, I have had people in my life who were not afraid to call me out on my actions. I know that they did so because they saw me as a stronger and better woman than the one that was showing up.

Five years ago (nearly to the very day, in fact), I was in the middle of a graduate school program, going through a tempestuous separation process, working full time and trying to raise two teenage boys. Sunday mornings consistently found me at my big roll top desk writing a research paper. I would get up early, drink coffee and get down to business. My reward upon completion of my task would be a long run and a hot shower. On this particular Sunday, my estranged spouse unexpectedly showed up at the door under the auspices of seeing his sons. In fact, he only appeared to retrieve items from the house. When I would not allow him to do so and offered to get said items (he had a practice of taking other things that were not his), he immediately launched into a tirade ( The words were rated R). Well, needless to say, he was asked to leave. The moment was not pleasant; I knew that I needed to do something to alleviate my negative feelings. So, a run was in order. Running is the perfect vehicle for getting my head back on straight and it was on this jaunt that I decided to plan a celebration for the boys and me. I would graduate from my program in May, my youngest was to be confirmed that same month and my oldest was having a stellar athletic and academic junior year. I deemed the party “A Celebration of Threes.” We allowed for three of our friends to be invited (or a factor thereof) and the party was held at a favorite upscale pizza restaurant. Those present were people who loved and supported us through the years (including my high school track coach and his wife-he was now coaching my oldest!). My children’s father was even in attendance for a short while. The party was a success and is a moment in time that we remember as one of great fun in the midst of chaos.

Skipping ahead to present day, so much has changed for the better. There is a lightness in our lives and thoughts even with the challenges that growing up and growing old can bring. As I mentioned in my previous blog, my oldest recently purchased a car ( an old but very reliable SUV thanks to my cousin).  The asking price was a bit more than he had on hand. I told my son that I would figure out a way to come up with the rest. After a good night’s sleep, I went into town, passing by the jewelry store that I had re-sized my engagement ring. Then it dawned on me!!  When I brought my ring in to be sized, I also had brought in my old wedding band and engagement ring (don’t ask me why I had not gotten rid of them long ago when I really needed money). I would go in and ask the status of the appraisal.  Coincidentally ( or not), the rings were in the process of being priced and the owner told me to come back in 3 days-the rings would be ready. When I made the call on Tuesday, the price was the exact amount needed for the car plus a little bit more. We were thrilled and relieved. For me, it was the perfect way to symbolically let get of past hurts. I am so grateful that my son could benefit from this action. Possessing a car of his own at his age (22) is yet another step toward independence.

So, I guess you could say these two stories are a twist in paying it forward. For me, they are like bookends to the idea. Because my life has less trauma and chaos, I am freer to give to others who are in similar situations. I am able to give back in a variety of ways to the people and places that held me up. I can take pain and transform it into something healing and beneficial.

Staying Present

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Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment. ~Buddha

My favorite part of the day is the morning. As I have gotten older, I have awkened earlier and earlier. At one time the reason for my pre-dawn rumblings was to get a jump start on the day-unload the dishwasher, start some laundry,etc. I also had to squeeze in a small bit of exercise since my post work obligations usually involved errands or my sons’ activities plus a nightly family meal. Since the days of staying ahead of my family’s messes  and other duties are over, my early mornings belong soley to me. During my training days for half-marathons, it was not unusual for me to get up at 4:30 am  in order to have time to drink a cup of coffee, get my lunch packed, stretch and head out the door by 6 am. Nowadays, I still set the alarm for the same time but linger in bed listening to the morning news or the sounds of the quiet outside.

What I have learned from my early rising is the importance of being in the moment. Staying observant-especially of Mother Nature. It has also allowed me to remember my sons’ morning awakenings as babies. They were thrilled to wake up and greet the brand new day and take in all its wonder. We all lose that feeling way too soon.  How many of us are guilty of just lying in bed when it is time to get up-dreading the day?  The reality is that not all of life is a joy ride. In my own life, I have had too many days that I had to spend embroiled in legal tussles due to my divorce and post divorce issues. My mother’s illness and death left me weighted down with grief that made it hard to get out of bed. But the other reality is that nothing bad lasts forever, either. The struggles and heartaches allow you for opportunities to experience true joy.

I guess this is why I have a hard time with others’ endless rants and complaints about getting up in the morning. How bad is it really?  Is it because you have allowed yourself to adopt and become coerced by the 21st century’s practice of overscheduling your life? Do you wake up waiting for the day or week to end? Why are you rushing time when you have no idea when your time will end here?

This attitude and practice makes a person their own time thief.  The miracles and joys and humor and comfort of even the most ordinary moments are lost when we don’t allow ourselves to be present wherever we are. I guess this is why we now feel the need to request that cell phones be shut off during church services, for example. It makes perfect sense to me that they are off during such a sacred time but I still witnessed a fellow parishioner stealthily using hers during a recent interfaith service. Besides the fact the it is down right rude to be texting or checking email during this time, it showed me that she was not fully embracing the experience.

And this is what we all need to do. I try not to miss a sunrise- a challenge in the winter northern climate because of the overabundance of gray days! Sometimes it is hard to capture the days moving moments so I have taken to writing them down in my pocket journal (thank you Jenn!). Here are couple of recent entries:

This morning I arose at my usual pre-dawn time to the light of the moon. My bed is situated as to allow me a view of my vast backyard and the woods that surround it. The whole yard was awash in moonlight and it was there that I saw the movement of a large animal figure-a coyote. Normally, I hear them howling in the middle of the night and at times I have seen one or two in distance as I go for my morning run. Today was different. A lone coyote just feet from my back door- an awesome sight!

This morning I awaken with the remants of the week-the start of a cold and a scheduled court appearance involving my former husband.  I decide to embrace the day anyway and ask the universe for an efficient process as I head out for a long run. It is still quite dark but so, so quiet. Not a soul in sight-not even the headlights of cars quite yet. The scent of an animal comes from the bushes-not a deer, maybe a fox? I remain alert as my body warms up to the cold and the movement of my still sleeping leg muscles. My new shoes are still being broken in-day two of a blister is a burning reminder of this fact! I love being in tune at this time of day. My only companions are the thoughts that I allow to move in and out of my head. Today I take a slight detour on my route because it looks as if the sunrise is going to be outrageous. I head for a place where the sky is big and I am not disappointed. The night slowly gives way to the day and its pale yellow beginnings.  Over the course of the next two miles the sky becomes golden, then deep orange and finally fiery red by the last mile. My day is set and I know it will be good!

I wrote the latter entry while waiting to be called by the judge. (I wanted to capture my day and my real life on paper.) It didn’t take long to be go before her and the appearance was over in less than five minutes. I spent the rest of the day with my oldest. We got him ready for his second and last semester of college and we enjoyed a lunch date at an old graduate school haunt of mine. Later that day, one of his best friends stopped in. Still later, my youngest came home from work filthy and hungry. His girlfriend showed up too. The noise in the house grew as did the sounds of food preparation. I was simulantaneously making mac and cheese, serving salsa and chips and my homemade chocolate cake. Then my cousin called saying that he secured a car purchase for my oldest son (he has been saving and saving money for this very moment!) While my youngest was in the shower, I enjoyed an enlightening and positive conversation with his girlfriend. Then my oldest son’s girlfriend arrived adding her own extraordinary energy and love to the fray.

Folks, this is life. Moments of being in tune with the world around you as well as those you love. Staying present allows us to give birth to everyday joy and helps us conserve energy for those trying times when we need to put our best self forward.

Zero is Not a Size

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Body Image3 Comments

“By choosing healthy over skinny you are choosing self-love over self-judgment. You are beautiful!”
― Steve Maraboli

Last week I  went to my doctor’s for my annual check up. As part of the routine, I, of course, had to get weighed. Of all the things that are done in the process of  a woman’s visit, I find this to be the most dreaded piece.  It is the one part where I wish that I could be totally naked in order to get the “most accurate” reading of my weight. Of course, this is impossible so the only part of my clothing that I can remove is my shoes.

Although I possess a scale, I never weigh myself. I feel that I will note any poundage fluctuations through how I fit into my clothes. So far this method has worked fairly well. After all, I am very fit; I exercise about 7 hours per week and I eat very healthy food. I am well aware of my body changes as I have entered my fifties and have come to accept these shifts. In fact, I really believe that middle age is called that because we all (male and female) get thicker in the middle!

Still,this number sort of freaks me out despite my doctor’s assurance that I am the right weight for my age and height (5′ 4″) and the amount of my body’s muscle mass. (I have been strength training 2-3 times per week for at least 17 years.) So what is the deal here?

I believe that some of it stems from the fact that my weight reached an all time low of 109 lbs just over four years ago. I had not weighed that little since my senior year in high school when I was a running maniac and just entering puberty. The weight loss had everything to do with the trauma of the divorce process followed by my mother’s fatal diagnosis and subsequent death. As a colleague of mine said to me recently, “It hurts to eat.” That was certainly true in my case.  There would be days that I would actually forget to give myself nourishment. Other times when I did eat, I would immediately get sick. I had to be carefully monitored by my therapist who eventually diagnosed me with borderline anorexia. As a result, I had to strategize ways in which to feed myself. Part of it, of course, was to keep a food diary of the items that I ate each day. Another- more unique way- was to ask my friends to feed me. There were times when I would literally call someone and ask them to stop at the store and buy me a meal ( my therapist encouraged me to give in to my cravings). This was especially helpful during those times when the legal matters of my divorce were especially intense. Other times, I would happen to stop by a friend’s house to drop off something and subsequently (upon taking a look at me) be invited in to share a family meal. As a part of the strategy, I also had to weigh myself in order to keep track of any more loss or perhaps some gain in weight. It is a strange feeling to watch the numbers descend when you are making (what you believe at least) your best effort not to lose, but to gain pounds.

Yet, underlying this so-called “effort” was the reality that I needed to buy new clothes in smaller and smaller sizes. No woman in her right mind would scoff at  clothes shopping of course! And shopping for clothes because of weight loss is usually a celebration and not a burden. So, I had lots of fun trying on clothes that were a size 2 and fit like a glove (especially the little black number that I got on without having to unzipper it). The piece de resistance, however, came when I was about to go on my first romantic date with my now finance’. The black lace skirt and deep pink one shoulder satine top were a size 0!

Truthfully and biologically, however, I was in the wrong state of mind. Anorexia (no matter how mild a case) changes your brain. What you view in the mirror and what others see could not be more different. And this is the image that has stuck with me even until this day. When you are caught in the anorexic vortex, weight gain is seen as a failure of control. It didn’t help that my body was at the same time undergoing its middle age changes. It was only through therapy, yoga and the love and concern of my sons and friends (as well as my beloved) that helped me get back on the road of normalcy.

Our culture celebrates ultra- thinness even while we as a nation have a severe obesity epidemic. What a paradox! In fact, being thin is part of white girl culture. Latinas and black women proudly display their beautiful curvaceous bodies and we should too. As Gloria Steinem says: “Each individual woman’s body demands to be accepted on its own terms.”

The black lace skirt and pink top still sit in my closet. The photo of our romantic date sits atop the dresser. The romance lives on but I will never wear those clothes again. And I am not afraid to reveal my weight: a strong and healthy 130 pounds!

“…..this very body that we have, that’s sitting here right now…with its aches and its pleasures…is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive.”                                                     ~Pema Chodron

A State of Grace

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn FaithLeave a comment

“God has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”   Micah 6:8

I love my faith community. It is a place that has provided me comfort in times of great sorrow. It is a place that healed my broken spirit. Mostly, it is a place of great joy where everyone is happy to see you and accepts you for who you are. We are an open and affirming community that is intellectually and spiritually stimulating. We are an action orientated organization that continuously is performing service work in our local region as well as in our country.

My church and the people who belong to it have helped my sons and I become better people. For me specifically, it has helped me become a more prayerful and mindful person.

When I think about prayer or the act of praying, I think about it in two ways: first as a conversation with God and second as an intention. I have a vague memory of praying on my knees beside my bed when I was a little girl and also of reciting the Lord’s Prayer as I lay in bed before I went to sleep. I’d like to think of those times as a sort of  introductory training on getting familiar with God in a more private way.

Now that I am further along in my faith journey, my prayers are more eclectic in nature. Sometimes, I find a prayer in a song. Marc Cohn’s “One Safe Place” is especially meaningful to me.  Other times, I will enjoy a moving meditation with God while I am running. Usually, this involves an actual plea or praise that I recite out loud. I often ask for help for others, especially the boys. I always ask God to watch over those that I know that are going through a challenge in their life. When I pray like this, I feel centered and closer to the Great Mystery.

But I have also had some powerful prayerful experiences in moments of stillness. This usually happens during yoga and is more spontaneous. I have had divine experiences during some of my practices that need no words; it is like an energy flow that goes directly to God. When this happens I feel as if my soul has been cleansed and renewed.

It is through yoga that I learned to set an intention either for the moment, the day, or the week. Intentions help me to stay present. They ease my worries. They give me strength and help me stay positive and put good vibes into the universe. Intentions remind me that I need to live my life purposefully. They maintain my connection to the Light. Right now my intentions are to live my life with grace and to let go of reminders of past hurts. I believe that I may have been doing this for a while; but now-every day-I say it out loud. These intentions have helped me get through some uncomfortable encounters lately and have allowed me to come out of situations feeling like a better person.

I think prayer has allowed for some amazing things to happen in my life. And I thank God for that!

I won’t be made useless
I won’t be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear~Jewel

Past, Present, Future

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

Tonight the first real snowfall of the season has begun.  It is a quiet entry; no wind nor rain-just the  hush of  a blanket coating the gray and brown earth. The rush and rumble of the Christmas holiday is winding down a bit, although my finance’ and I still have one more visit to make before  New Year’s day.

I love this time of year if only for the fact that it breaks the routine of daily work and other obligations. And even if you have to work, it never feels like a Monday or Friday and if it does, it probably is a Wednesday! My small house usually feels smaller if only for the tree in the living and study area. Add presents and family and we are squeezed; we are having trouble at times locating our gloves and hats! But I would not trade it for the world. The bedrooms are filled with sleeping people and their gear, my oldest has taken up residence on the pull- out couch in the basement and his girlfriend is camping on the living room couch when she visits.

I am especially mindful this Christmas. So many of the events and activities seem to be  a blend of holidays past, the present and what has yet  to come.  When the boys were young, I always felt the rush of Christmas; it was an exhausting process of gift buying and wrapping, purchasing and preparing the five course meal and entertaining family. I definitely  felt like a one woman show. Now, of course, my sons are older and I am no longer obligated to pull out all the stops for the day. In fact, Christmas has more of a community feel to it.  There was much conversation between the boys, their girlfriends and myself regarding gifts and plans for getting together with one another.  I knew that this year would be different from the  last simply because of the fact that they are in relationships. Making it all work would be a challenge and it certainly hit a glitch or two. Lesson learned by my youngest: you can’t make everyone happy!

If it wasn’t for the  significant change in our life years ago, I really do believe that we would not be experiencing the deep love and caring from the friends and family in our lives right now.  Christmas Eve’s Feast of the Seven Fishes is one example. It is hosted by my oldest son’s girlfriend’s family and I appreciate it just for the fact that it was one of my late mother’s childhood traditions. Stepping into the door of Carolyn and Fred’s home is like visiting my mother’s family. Yet, it is more than that. Those whom we met last year remembered us (and asked after my youngest immediately). We had delicious homemade food and meaningful conversations tinged with laughter. It was a joy to be there!

Of course, we went to the late service for church to sing carols and light the candles (the glitch happened just before, but all is forgiven!).  Part of the reason I like it so much is that the young people attend. It is like a reunion for my sons as well as myself since I have spent some time with most of them.  It feels good to wish everyone a “Merry Christmas” on this night. We get to bed in the wee hours of Christmas morning and waking up a few hours later is always interesting. I like that “fatigued” feel as the boys stumble down the stairs to greet their stockings first. Christmas breakfast this year was bacon and challah french toast with real maple syrup. No rushing, as dinner at Emily’s was in the late afternoon. We would part ways here as my youngest was having dinner with his girlfriend’s family.

And Emily-what can I say about Emily?  Do you remember when I talked of my gift to her in my last post?  It turns out that she purchased the same one for me! I had thought she would not have time to read my story given her busy holiday preparations. Wrong! We had a good laugh and of course confirmed our close connection with one another. Dinner and conversation were a redux of Christmas Eve- a warm and wonderful day; you could not ask for more.  My oldest and I ended our evening with our annual viewing of  the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life”- the perfect metaphor and reminder that all you need is not out in the world but right in front of you.

I caught a glimpse of my future when my finance’ arrived with has daughter the day after Christmas.  This year was to be the first  that we all shared under one roof. I found myself digging out old recipes that I hadn’t made in years in anticipation of the time we would be sharing meals together. It felt good to revisit this part of my life. I made a huge meal on the 27th as seven of us would be breaking bread and opening presents together. When the boys, their girlfriends, my future stepdaughter, my finance’ and I sat down, I knew that  I was sharing this time with my family. It was positive and energizing-never draining.  Meal preparation and cleanup were a team effort-such a difference from years past.

The next night found the two of us back at Emily’s for a couples dinner with two of my other close friends.  Champagne was shared in celebration of our engagement.  The “kids” spent the evening together sharing pizza and visiting the local zoo to look at Christmas lights.

And today found us back with family-my fiance’s sister and her brood. Once again, I realized that this was to be my family too! More gifts and one unexpected one-a print of our choice for the time we would be sharing a home together. Incredible!

Tomorrow we end our week with a birthday celebration for my oldest son who was born on New Year’s Eve. He is the reason that I like the holiday as much as I do now. A child born with minutes to spare in the old year under the light of a blue moon! Very special indeed.

No matter the struggles, I am glad for the past, mindful of the present and hopeful for the future. I have all that I need right in front of me.