Hello, Inspiration – Moments of Motivation

May 15, 2011 by ·

I’ll admit to not feeling very inspired this week but I did come across some things I thought were pretty awesome.

Motivation
be-the-girl
My friend Lori pinned something from Pinterest to Facebook and because I didn’t realize she was on Pinterest I checked out her boards. She has one called inspiration, and I love it. Lori started working out and running a few months ago to achieve some health goals, and she recently completed her first 10K. I love that she has collected these things on her inspiration board to motivate her. We all need that sometimes.


Strength

One of the other things is something that started last week. A good friend told us about some really crappy things that have happened to her. I’ve thought about her every day since, and I didn’t really realize how much thinking I’d have to do to process what she’d told us. I’d never have known this about her and I think even more highly of her now – for living through the crap, for telling us about it (which I know was so, so hard) and for looking for help to deal with it. You never know what demons people are wrestling, and I’m always amazed by how much power there is in sharing our struggles.

Literary Ladies

I recently received my copy of Literary Ladies by Nava Atlas, which I won through a giveaway on Katie’s Bookcase. I was beyond thrilled to win this – it was like a sign that I should keep writing. And it’s such a cool book – I’ve only started to explore it, but it’s doing wonders for my perspective already. (If you want a copy, that link above is Katie’s affiliate link, so she’ll get some pennies if you click through from there. I get nothing, other than good karma, which I figure can’t hurt.)

Love

And of course, I have to say one more time how much I was inspired by this. Not the actions, but the love behind it. There should be more people in the world like my sister.

Got anything else inspiring to share? I could use something to help me get unstuck.

Filed Under: Hello, Inspiration · Tagged With: , ,

Love Letter to My Middle Sister

May 12, 2011 by ·

Dear M.,

When we got married you gave Rich and I a gift. An intangible gift, but one you managed to capture in words.

“On this day, I can think of only one thing to offer.”

It wasn’t a present. It was a gift. A extraordinarily beautiful gift.

“You have given it to me. Others have received it as well. In fact it is given all over this great Earth. No one should go without it.”

I knew this, but not the way you knew it. You knew this, and among your many strengths this is one of your most powerful.

“It is something that, if properly maintained, respected and contributed to, will never wilt or disappear.”

You gave us this gift nearly seven years ago, and during the time since I have often felt I didn’t nurture this gift enough. I was never afraid it would disappear, but I’m not sure I contributed equally to its upkeep.

“Its value cannot be measured and is rarely appreciated enough.”

You’re right, it can’t be measured, though I’ve always appreciated this gift you so freely offer to those around you. But I’ve never, never appreciated the value of this gift more than in the last couple of weeks. I’m overwhelmed by it, and the fact that you have given it to us.

When you came over Easter weekend I was happy to see you. No, not happy. Really, really glad. Relieved. My whole family was here that weekend and it felt like a buffer. It felt like you were all standing around the three of us holding hands and blocking everything else out. When you all left, I knew that support was still there, but I felt a little bit more alone.

Last Tuesday, when I came downstairs in the morning and Connor said, “Auntie ‘Shell is coming over today,” I just smiled.

“I don’t think so, honey,” I said. “She went back on the plane. She’s back at home.”

I didn’t believe him when he revealed that secret, so when you walked into the living room I didn’t know what to think. How could you be back so soon? Why were you back?

But I knew why. And I was glad.

“It is not a one-way gift. It is hard to give and not get back.”

Over the last week and a half, you have given me so much more than you will ever know. I can never repay you for distracting Connor when I couldn’t do it. I want to package up time and sleep and give it to you when you need it in exchange for those mornings you got up with him so we could sleep. I want to give you everything I have – every nourishing thing, every comforting thing, every beautiful thing – for coming, without being asked, when I needed you to come. For knowing when I needed to talk and when I needed to be silent. For seeing in my son what I sometimes don’t. For seeing in me what I felt was lost. For just being here and bringing the most precious gift I have ever received.

“FRIENDSHIP. My friends are my family and my family are my friends.”

I couldn’t ask for a better family but I will never forget your gift of friendship when I needed it most.

xx

Mama’s Losin’ It

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: , ,

Run and Hide

May 5, 2011 by ·

The first time I ran away from home I was 36 years old. This is what happened two weeks ago.

***

The inside of my head is screaming. I can’t be here. I already had one escape and it was 24 hours of sanity in the midst of a mad merry-go-round with a cackling clown taking up all the space in my brain and preventing me from finding an exit. That escape helped, but not enough. Mostly just made me realize how much I need some space to think.

Being on leave from work to deal with postpartum depression is good. Having a toddler around the house who is my trigger is bad, hence the inside-the-head screaming.

My husband understands that I need to be away for a bit and we talk about options. They’re all possible, and yet not what I need.

I feel trapped. I’m back to imagining what it would be like to live in a condo by myself. Finally, I decide to ignore my credit card balance and spend the money for another night in a hotel.

And then it comes. A message from a friend, one who doesn’t know how much I’m dying to run away but who happens to appear at exactly the right moment.

I’m going to be away for a bit, she says. You’re welcome to use my apartment if you want a break.

I come very close to crying with relief.

She drops off keys on her way out of town. I still hesitate. Can I leave my husband to be on toddler duty alone for however long I decide to escape?

Yes, he says. Really, you can.

What if I leave and decide I don’t want to come back? I worry about this.

I hope you don’t, but if you do we’ll deal with it. He has faith when I don’t.

So I leave.

***

I walked into my friend’s apartment feeling like I was intruding, but all that was there was peace. It was everything my toddler-dominated house is not. Clean. Quiet. Decorated the way I’ve always imagined my home would be if I lived by myself.

Luxurious white bedding suggested hours of uninterrupted, guilt-free sleep.

A couch with a soft blanket provided a space to sit or write or watch TV.

The kitchen made it clear I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and that no one else would be there to ask for a snack and then not eat it.

I walked into the bathroom to set my cosmetic case down and hung on the wall was something that made it clear I was in the right place:

I spent one night there and felt much more my keep-calm-and-carry-on self. I came home over Easter weekend when my siblings showed up from out of town. When they left, I went back to my friend’s place and didn’t know when I’d be home.

That stay turned out to be for three full days. I left for an appointment and then came back and spent a full 48 hours holed up there, blinds drawn, hiding. I finally emerged to get some groceries – across the street and back again, filled with anxiety until the door closed behind me.

I spent the time writing. I read – a lot. I took deep breaths. I cried it out. I bought fruit and forced myself to eat it. I allowed myself to eat ice cream.

I stayed up late, when the world was quiet and dark. Then I took my sleepy time pills and crashed for 12 hours at a time.

By the third day, I knew I needed to leave. I had realized I could stay there forever – not in that apartment, but in that dark place where I stay in my pajamas all day and shower at 9 p.m. Where I avoid going to sleep because I’m not ready to do all this again another day. Where every night I take a pill that knocks me out for so long that I don’t have to.

Coming home, I was ready to deal with whatever the toddler threw at me – literally or figuratively. I knew it would be challenging and I was prepared to deal with it. Or at least I thought it was.

He was practically manic from my return and we had a bedtime battle that dumped me right back into the depths of anger and despair. Turns out those triggers are deeply embedded in me and it’s going to take a lot more than three days of self-reflection to put a damper on my response to them.

But I rediscovered a part of myself in that apartment – a part I knew was there but couldn’t coax into the light. My friend thought she was just giving me keys, but what she actually gave me was a path out of the darkness.

Love you, M. You saved me during a time I really needed it and I’ll never be able to adequately express how grateful I am for that.


Mama’s Losin’ It

Prompt 2: That time you ran away from home.

Filed Under: Postpartum depression · Tagged With: , , , , ,

Thoughts for My Mother

April 20, 2011 by ·

If my mom were a blogger I know exactly what she’d be like. She’d be the kind of person who pours her heart onto the page without worrying too much what other people think. She would start writing thinking no one would read – except maybe her kids – and then realize her ability to create a community around her would work magic in the blogosphere as well. People would read because she was a mom in the time before mommy bloggers and therefore her story is different. And yet it’s very much the same.

I could never have imagined how the advent of one small child into my life would change things, permanently. I was pretty passionate about everything I tried, passionate about business, passionate about training, passionate about travel, passionate about the mountains and skiing. So no one ever expected me to drop it all in favour of one small child.

I also could never have imagined how much time one small child took up. I think I envisioned myself getting up in the morning, dressing the small (and of course perfect) child in something becoming, and sitting, sipping tea and reading mind-expanding material to said child so that he or she grew up to be something extraordinary. The reality, as you can imagine, was quite different and a bit messier.

The day the earth-shaking child chose to make her entrance was cold and snowy… I won’t go into boring detail about the following day but it was indeed D Day and while I remember thinking, “Well, I will never do this again,” I was in for the surprise of my life. What was about to happen to me resulted in not one small child, but 4, and my life being co-opted and enriched in a way that was totally unexpected.

At 4:31 p.m. on December 21st, a child was born. She looked at me with my eyes. Then the whole world shifted.

Those of you who are members of The Red Dress Club will recognize the beginning and end of this piece as a recent prompt. My mom read what I wrote and then sent me a piece of her own, part of which is excerpted above.

“You should start a blog,” I told her.

“I wouldn’t have enough to say,” was her response.

I confess I laughed. My mom? Not have enough to say? She’s interested in everything. She could write and write and write and still not run out of things to say. She would write thoughtful posts. Insightful posts. Funny posts. She would probably write a lot of poignant posts. She would write posts that would connect to something in people and they would comment. And then she would click on links and follow tweets and read others’ writing and comment back.

That’s the sort of person my mother is – through her involvement in various things she becomes part of something. As far back as I can remember she’s been genuinely interested in people’s stories.

My mom is not a blogger, but her earth-shaking child is. And right now, reading the things I have written – especially recently – I imagine it’s hard to be my mother. So because I have, yet again, shaken her world, I will use my own blog to tell her this:

I know you’re worried.

I know you wish you knew how to help.

I know you’re beating yourself up about not noticing sooner or not coming by more. About saying the wrong things. About not knowing what the right things are.

I know you’re watching and reading and trying to understand, and I love you for it.

I know you don’t really understand though.

I actually don’t think you can. If you haven’t experienced this – especially this experience as it relates to being a mother – I really don’t think it’s possible to know what it’s like. During the times I feel good, even I can’t remember what the bad feels like.

I imagine just knowing I’m struggling, whether you understand it or not – and perhaps especially if you do not – is consuming you with stress and worry.

You might feel as though I’m not reaching out to you enough. Don’t take it personally – it’s not really anything to do with you. I just can’t right now.

I don’t know why this happened and I’m not entirely sure how to fix it, but I feel like I’m getting closer to finding the way.

You have to trust that it will be all right.

That’s what I’m doing. I’m holding on and trusting that it will be all right.

This is not to exclude my dad, but I think for my mom it’s different. And besides, that’s not what the prompt said. 😉

Linked up with Mama Kat, prompt #2: If my mom were a blogger…

Mama’s Losin’ It

Filed Under: Motherhood · Tagged With: , , , , ,

Wordless Wednesday: Belly Laughs

April 20, 2011 by ·

Time for something happy. A photo can certainly capture a baby’s belly laugh, but a video does it better.

(Connor was about 8 months old here. I don’t have the original video file on my computer so click through to the site to view. It gets really contagious around the 32 second mark.)

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With:
« Previous Page
Next Page »