Yesterday could have been any Sunday in any year of any month, but it seemed unique in some way. I awoke with a familiar pang of loneliness that often marks the end of a weekend but this Sunday was laden with a sense of beautiful remorse. I didn't need to look at the calendar to know that this was a Sunday in late summer. I could smell it in the air and hear it in the symphony of crickets in the evening.
Late August always brings an ending and a beginning. Summer is drawing to a close and the school year is creeping ever so near. I love the long nights of summer and the early sun beams that awaken me. I inhale deeply the heavy perfume of nature and revel in the twinkle of lightning bugs. Late August though signals the end of carefree days but brings with it the succulence of ripe fruits and vegetables.
If only this particular part of summer could last just a bit longer. Maybe just a few more weeks of heat lightning in the distance, the buzz of cicadas, the scent of pregnant earth and the laughter of my boys echoing in twilight. Rainbowed sunsets creating a backdrop for an endless childhood of melted ice cream and rowdy games of tag.
With a need to stretch the final week of summer, I headed to the farmer's market and took in the fresh produce with all my senses. The tomatoes were plump and bright, the peppers were shiny green and the blush of the nectarines was irresistible. I grabbed several bags and loaded them with sweet corn, tomatoes, raspberries and nectarines. I could taste the burst of fresh raspberries, drizzled over vanilla ice cream.
Ice cream, what a perfect end of summer dessert with my boys. I headed to their dad's house immediately because I couldn't wait any longer to see them. They had stayed with their grandparents' and then dad's house and I missed the familiar cacophony of stomping footsteps, shouts of derision or glee dependent on the outcome of a video game, I even missed the occasional sibling rivalry. I knew they missed me as well, I had the hugs and "I love yous" as proof.
I didn't wash the dishes, nor the piles of dirty laundry but I did listen to Sammy tell me how he had enjoyed a banquet of French toast, waffles and pancakes at his grandparents'. I also watched while the boys modeled their new shoes for the coming school year.
Slow down, take a deep breath, inhale all that is sweet and good and live each day for the abundant blessing it is.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Beauty Outweighs Ugly
Yesterday was my dad's 82nd birthday but it also marked the 10th anniversary of changing life for Xander and I forever.
I faced April 2, 2003 with mixed emotions and monumental decisions that would affect the lives of many people. My amazing sister friend, Genelle drove us to the Amtrak station in Portland to embark on the next portion of my journey. I was met there with a heavy-hearted Will and Connie. They were there to see their only grandchild off, never knowing when they would see him again. I had come to hold them in my heart as surrogate parents, people who loved me unconditionally, people who adored their grandchild and only wanted to see him happy and successful.
Bag slung over my shoulder, my 3-year-old on my hip and a suitcase lay at my feet while I contemplated separating a child from his father. For me the decision was perfectly clear, but deciding for Xander was muddier. I was profoundly naive to the demons haunting Xander's father and was only able to react to the effects of his addiction-unreliable, angry and self-destructive. I had once promised Gene I would never be the wedge between he and Xander but that was before his downward spiral into drug use.
I long ago decided that I could no longer be an active part of Gene's life. After the vicious name calling, the shoves, the yelling, the threats of seeing my demise and removing the one ray of light from my life, I knew I could never subject myself to that pain anymore. I didn't want my son to grow up thinking what he observed was a healthy relationship or the roles of men and women in life. A final visit by police made the decision for me. I ordered my train tickets and made the heart wrenching call to Will and Connie that Xander and I would be heading east on April 2. It was my dad's birthday and one for me as well.
There was a thunderstorm that day and it was only the second I could recall occurring in the four years I had lived in Oregon. It seemed almost cliche but cathartic all at once. Connie handed me an envelope and ask that I not open it until we had left the station. Will escorted Xander and I on the train and loaded my suitcase. Four years and only a suitcase of belongings, but more importantly I had my ray of light through the storm.
The train lurched forward and my phone buzzed with a text message from Genelle. Her words are seared in my brain even 10 years later, "Breathe deep my friend, you're free." Reading that and having the realization sink in transformed into a guttural sob long dammed by fear and anger. I wiped my eyes and opened the envelope I had been clutching to my heart. I immediately recognized the script, it was Connie's sadness and hope in blue ink and the generosity I had always been shown. Grammy Connie and Papa Will were deeply saddened by our departure but more than anything they wanted to see Xander and I happy and thriving. I dissolved again into pools of tears.
I have no idea if the other passengers were paying me any mind and I didn't care. I was finally breaking free from the fear and hurt that had long weighed me down into a shell of a woman. Dreams were starting to form. I knew life was going to be difficult, but I had unshackled myself from an empty and painful life.
Ten years later and I can say that life is good. Perfect? Certainly not, but I love my job, my boys are happy and healthy and I have made and nurtured amazing friendships. It is my hope that life will continue to be a blessing that I don't take for granted. I have long ago forgiven Gene of his actions and I am so happy that his life is moving in such a positive and forward direction. He is marrying a strong woman and has three beautiful daughters. I'm in a good place and I hope to someday share life's memories with someone.
Take stock of life and realize just how much beauty outweighs the ugly.
I faced April 2, 2003 with mixed emotions and monumental decisions that would affect the lives of many people. My amazing sister friend, Genelle drove us to the Amtrak station in Portland to embark on the next portion of my journey. I was met there with a heavy-hearted Will and Connie. They were there to see their only grandchild off, never knowing when they would see him again. I had come to hold them in my heart as surrogate parents, people who loved me unconditionally, people who adored their grandchild and only wanted to see him happy and successful.
Bag slung over my shoulder, my 3-year-old on my hip and a suitcase lay at my feet while I contemplated separating a child from his father. For me the decision was perfectly clear, but deciding for Xander was muddier. I was profoundly naive to the demons haunting Xander's father and was only able to react to the effects of his addiction-unreliable, angry and self-destructive. I had once promised Gene I would never be the wedge between he and Xander but that was before his downward spiral into drug use.
I long ago decided that I could no longer be an active part of Gene's life. After the vicious name calling, the shoves, the yelling, the threats of seeing my demise and removing the one ray of light from my life, I knew I could never subject myself to that pain anymore. I didn't want my son to grow up thinking what he observed was a healthy relationship or the roles of men and women in life. A final visit by police made the decision for me. I ordered my train tickets and made the heart wrenching call to Will and Connie that Xander and I would be heading east on April 2. It was my dad's birthday and one for me as well.
There was a thunderstorm that day and it was only the second I could recall occurring in the four years I had lived in Oregon. It seemed almost cliche but cathartic all at once. Connie handed me an envelope and ask that I not open it until we had left the station. Will escorted Xander and I on the train and loaded my suitcase. Four years and only a suitcase of belongings, but more importantly I had my ray of light through the storm.
The train lurched forward and my phone buzzed with a text message from Genelle. Her words are seared in my brain even 10 years later, "Breathe deep my friend, you're free." Reading that and having the realization sink in transformed into a guttural sob long dammed by fear and anger. I wiped my eyes and opened the envelope I had been clutching to my heart. I immediately recognized the script, it was Connie's sadness and hope in blue ink and the generosity I had always been shown. Grammy Connie and Papa Will were deeply saddened by our departure but more than anything they wanted to see Xander and I happy and thriving. I dissolved again into pools of tears.
I have no idea if the other passengers were paying me any mind and I didn't care. I was finally breaking free from the fear and hurt that had long weighed me down into a shell of a woman. Dreams were starting to form. I knew life was going to be difficult, but I had unshackled myself from an empty and painful life.
Ten years later and I can say that life is good. Perfect? Certainly not, but I love my job, my boys are happy and healthy and I have made and nurtured amazing friendships. It is my hope that life will continue to be a blessing that I don't take for granted. I have long ago forgiven Gene of his actions and I am so happy that his life is moving in such a positive and forward direction. He is marrying a strong woman and has three beautiful daughters. I'm in a good place and I hope to someday share life's memories with someone.
Take stock of life and realize just how much beauty outweighs the ugly.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Ho Hum....
It's Saturday and I did not go to yoga. I just didn't have it in me to roll out of bed at 6:30. The snow overnight was certainly a factor as was the snuggly comforter. It's now a matter of knocking down the "to-do" list and feeling accomplished before heading out to a party.
My yoga instructor continually tells us that there is no perfect pose other than corpse pose where the level of clear headedness and relaxation allows the mind and body to drift off to sleep. I struggle with the art of relaxation. I have always remarked that it was a wise decision to never pick up smoking, not only because I have asthma but due to my inability to simply sit and chill.
While others can sink into a plush sofa, remote in hand and not analyze every detail of the day, I sit at my laptop and plunk it out in type. It is why I am here at this moment on a snowy March afternoon. I am trying to gather my thoughts, make sense of them and make the most of my weekend.
I recently received a promotion and with that comes additional responsibility. I am still working through what the future will hold with my children and the life I provide them. Of course, my mind and heart are always with Mom and what quality of life she will have when she is released from rehabilitation.
In the meantime, I compile my list and scratch things off as I get them completed. I will go see Mom, I will clean my apartment, I will go grocery shopping and I will go to my friend's house and share a laugh and a drink or two. My life is like anyone with a series of hills and valleys, but I do know I am blessed and that is what finally allows the gears to stop grinding at night when my head hits the pillow.
My yoga instructor continually tells us that there is no perfect pose other than corpse pose where the level of clear headedness and relaxation allows the mind and body to drift off to sleep. I struggle with the art of relaxation. I have always remarked that it was a wise decision to never pick up smoking, not only because I have asthma but due to my inability to simply sit and chill.
While others can sink into a plush sofa, remote in hand and not analyze every detail of the day, I sit at my laptop and plunk it out in type. It is why I am here at this moment on a snowy March afternoon. I am trying to gather my thoughts, make sense of them and make the most of my weekend.
I recently received a promotion and with that comes additional responsibility. I am still working through what the future will hold with my children and the life I provide them. Of course, my mind and heart are always with Mom and what quality of life she will have when she is released from rehabilitation.
In the meantime, I compile my list and scratch things off as I get them completed. I will go see Mom, I will clean my apartment, I will go grocery shopping and I will go to my friend's house and share a laugh and a drink or two. My life is like anyone with a series of hills and valleys, but I do know I am blessed and that is what finally allows the gears to stop grinding at night when my head hits the pillow.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Boy, do I miss running
Boy, do I miss running....
I miss lacing up, heading out and taking in the surroundings with all my senses. I miss feeling the strength in my legs to carry me miles away from trouble and loneliness. I miss the completeness in my soul after carving out time for just me and my thoughts.
My life is constantly changing and never boring and maybe that is what I miss the most about running; the consistency and knowing it was there waiting for me. There are times when I beat myself up and tell myself that I am not a real runner because I lack the dedication that others do. I am not waking at 4 a.m. so I can hammer out a few miles before heading into work. I was logging 20+ mile weeks in the spring and I have managed to only eke out 3 miles here and 3 miles there as of late.
It isn't only my body that misses running, but my soul. I ache when I see others on the trail or going through old photos I snapped with my phone while pounding the pavement. My mind, body and soul are grieving over the loss of running. However this is a love that can be rekindled. I intend to woo my feet with a new pair of shoes and caress my body with new clothes.
Even if I am not married to running, I certainly intend to win back that love. It will be a love affair to end all others.
I miss lacing up, heading out and taking in the surroundings with all my senses. I miss feeling the strength in my legs to carry me miles away from trouble and loneliness. I miss the completeness in my soul after carving out time for just me and my thoughts.
My life is constantly changing and never boring and maybe that is what I miss the most about running; the consistency and knowing it was there waiting for me. There are times when I beat myself up and tell myself that I am not a real runner because I lack the dedication that others do. I am not waking at 4 a.m. so I can hammer out a few miles before heading into work. I was logging 20+ mile weeks in the spring and I have managed to only eke out 3 miles here and 3 miles there as of late.
It isn't only my body that misses running, but my soul. I ache when I see others on the trail or going through old photos I snapped with my phone while pounding the pavement. My mind, body and soul are grieving over the loss of running. However this is a love that can be rekindled. I intend to woo my feet with a new pair of shoes and caress my body with new clothes.
Even if I am not married to running, I certainly intend to win back that love. It will be a love affair to end all others.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Friday Night in the ICU
Friday, January 4, 2013 and I am in the family waiting area of Blodgett Hospital. Like many, I anticipated the coming new year with the hope that I would accomplish goals and overcome some of the obstacles I had faced the previous year. Who knew that New Year's Day would usher in the worst day of my life to date.
I called my mom on Sunday, December 30 to see how she was feeling because she had been saddled with a bothersome cough since the 14th. Christmas Eve she had complained of being nauseous and although my mom has never enjoyed shopping, I was surprised to learn that my sister had to do her Christmas shopping. That Sunday Mom was on her way to the casino and assured me she was fine and we talked about how tired I had been lately and that my bloodwork indicated that I again needed an increase in my medication.
I had no idea on New Year's Eve when the boys and I were watching a "Jaws" marathon and sending countelss text messages, that my mom was surging toward disaster. I awoke the morning of January 1 with the determination to take better control of my health and getting the house in order. I watched a movie while sipping coffee and finally made the move off the couch to shower and grab lunch. It was soon after I got out of the shower that my phone rang. It was Mom and Dad's house but I let it ring until I was ready to answer. I thought it was Mom asking what the boys and I were doing for the day and I would call in a matter of minutes.
I did return the call in a couple of minutes to Lisa answering breathlessly to tell me that she thought Mom had had a stroke. I know I screamed in the phone. The kids ran out of their rooms to see why I was in hysterics. Mom? She had to be mistaken. Mom is the healthy one. Mom is the one who always powers through illness. Mom is the one who has been exposed to chicken pox countless times and has never been afflicted. Dad is the one who has repeatedly been rushed to the ER. Dad is the one who couldn't make the 3000 mile trip to San Diego to see Jonny get married. Not Mom.
So here I am on a Friday night at the hospital with my mom unresponsive. She has bacterial meningitis and we pray everyday that there will be a sign of imporovement. My boys adore their grandma and I have become closer to Mom in the last few months. When I arrived Wednesday it was to hear my sister having to explain to me that the doctor was giving Mom less than 50 percent chance of surviving. I sobbed. I can't imagine losing Mom. I don't want to envision Mother's Day without her. I refuse to give up and think I will never feel her warm hug or hear her infectious laugh.
I continue to pray, I continue to hope and I will continue to have faith that Mom's strength courage and stubborness will see her through this.
I called my mom on Sunday, December 30 to see how she was feeling because she had been saddled with a bothersome cough since the 14th. Christmas Eve she had complained of being nauseous and although my mom has never enjoyed shopping, I was surprised to learn that my sister had to do her Christmas shopping. That Sunday Mom was on her way to the casino and assured me she was fine and we talked about how tired I had been lately and that my bloodwork indicated that I again needed an increase in my medication.
I had no idea on New Year's Eve when the boys and I were watching a "Jaws" marathon and sending countelss text messages, that my mom was surging toward disaster. I awoke the morning of January 1 with the determination to take better control of my health and getting the house in order. I watched a movie while sipping coffee and finally made the move off the couch to shower and grab lunch. It was soon after I got out of the shower that my phone rang. It was Mom and Dad's house but I let it ring until I was ready to answer. I thought it was Mom asking what the boys and I were doing for the day and I would call in a matter of minutes.
I did return the call in a couple of minutes to Lisa answering breathlessly to tell me that she thought Mom had had a stroke. I know I screamed in the phone. The kids ran out of their rooms to see why I was in hysterics. Mom? She had to be mistaken. Mom is the healthy one. Mom is the one who always powers through illness. Mom is the one who has been exposed to chicken pox countless times and has never been afflicted. Dad is the one who has repeatedly been rushed to the ER. Dad is the one who couldn't make the 3000 mile trip to San Diego to see Jonny get married. Not Mom.
So here I am on a Friday night at the hospital with my mom unresponsive. She has bacterial meningitis and we pray everyday that there will be a sign of imporovement. My boys adore their grandma and I have become closer to Mom in the last few months. When I arrived Wednesday it was to hear my sister having to explain to me that the doctor was giving Mom less than 50 percent chance of surviving. I sobbed. I can't imagine losing Mom. I don't want to envision Mother's Day without her. I refuse to give up and think I will never feel her warm hug or hear her infectious laugh.
I continue to pray, I continue to hope and I will continue to have faith that Mom's strength courage and stubborness will see her through this.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Growl...
Today is day three of my Diet Fit plan and I am still trying to figure out how to eat at LEAST 35 grams of fiber a day. The IT manager asked what I was referring to when I said, "I'm doing the fiber thing" and he asked if I was writing about "thick poop" and how could I respond but in my own smartass manner of, "Yes, I'm writing about big turds."
Okay, I know that is enough potty talk for the day. My biggest worry about the fiber portion is that I am not going to have accurate findings and I am also famished, which tends to mess up any hope of lasting weight loss because my body will go into starvation mode. My metabolism and thyroid (what remains) is already totally messed up so I need not further destroy this basic bodily function. I've had a waffle with jam, two cups of coffee and an apple. I guess I better aim for a fiber rich lunch today so I don't come home and scarf down food like a Kurdish refugee.
So just how am I going to solve this issue? Eat paper? Buy expensive Fiber One bars? Depend on cereal that despite the claims of it being filling, it leaves me with my stomach grumbling what I am certain are the words, "Feed me, I'm starving"? I asked Diane at the gym last night and she said steel cut oats were the way to go. My manager suggested adding chia seeds to a smoothie. I am starting to feel as though I should have a feed bag.
So on I trudge with determination and a growling stomach.....
Okay, I know that is enough potty talk for the day. My biggest worry about the fiber portion is that I am not going to have accurate findings and I am also famished, which tends to mess up any hope of lasting weight loss because my body will go into starvation mode. My metabolism and thyroid (what remains) is already totally messed up so I need not further destroy this basic bodily function. I've had a waffle with jam, two cups of coffee and an apple. I guess I better aim for a fiber rich lunch today so I don't come home and scarf down food like a Kurdish refugee.
So just how am I going to solve this issue? Eat paper? Buy expensive Fiber One bars? Depend on cereal that despite the claims of it being filling, it leaves me with my stomach grumbling what I am certain are the words, "Feed me, I'm starving"? I asked Diane at the gym last night and she said steel cut oats were the way to go. My manager suggested adding chia seeds to a smoothie. I am starting to feel as though I should have a feed bag.
So on I trudge with determination and a growling stomach.....
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Diet Fit
As part of my job, I have the good fortune of getting to review books. Often the books I read are unedited and I get a sneak peek into what may be on the next New York Times bestseller list.
I just recently received a weight loss book, "The Case of the Unwanted Pounds," by Dr. Stutman, M.D. It is a food and exercise regimen with the hope of losing up to 15 pounds and 3 inches in the first 21 days. The plan alters a little after the first three weeks, but that is a pretty hefty weight loss for a short time frame. It is also a relatively simple concept. Daily food intake should include no more than 35 grams of fat and at least 35 grams of fiber. The fitness portion includes walking 35 minutes a day, six days a week and including one-two pound weights on three of the six days.
I decided to begin on a Monday following a weekend of debauchery. I weighed in at 159.8 lbs (that is a lot for me) and thought about how I was going to manage eating enough fiber in order to satiate my Sumo wrestler type appetite. I had an egg cooked in olive oil with two veggie sausages, a cup of coffee with creamer. Once I got to work, it didn't take long for the rumbling to begin. I filled my water bottle and dug out my apple.
The hustle and bustle of work helped with getting my mind on other matters but it wasn't long before I was dreaming of deep fried deliciousness that is McDonalds French fries, but fear not! I went to Subway and though my choice could have been even better, it still was not a heart attack in a bag.
Dinner is probably my greatest challenge because I am always extremely hungry and seem to never make either of the boys happy with my selections and while impatiently waiting for water to boil, meat to brown I scarf down salty potato chips. Last night, I sauteed chicken breast tenders with mesquite seasoning, chicken flavored rice and salad.
Walking just 35 minutes was hard for me to accept as my entire workout, but I did it. I envied the runners to the right ad left, but I proudly walked to the tunes rockin out in my MP3.
So with this, we shall see how I progress because I hope to ultimately lose 20 pounds and a total of 10 inches. Wish me well!
I just recently received a weight loss book, "The Case of the Unwanted Pounds," by Dr. Stutman, M.D. It is a food and exercise regimen with the hope of losing up to 15 pounds and 3 inches in the first 21 days. The plan alters a little after the first three weeks, but that is a pretty hefty weight loss for a short time frame. It is also a relatively simple concept. Daily food intake should include no more than 35 grams of fat and at least 35 grams of fiber. The fitness portion includes walking 35 minutes a day, six days a week and including one-two pound weights on three of the six days.
I decided to begin on a Monday following a weekend of debauchery. I weighed in at 159.8 lbs (that is a lot for me) and thought about how I was going to manage eating enough fiber in order to satiate my Sumo wrestler type appetite. I had an egg cooked in olive oil with two veggie sausages, a cup of coffee with creamer. Once I got to work, it didn't take long for the rumbling to begin. I filled my water bottle and dug out my apple.
The hustle and bustle of work helped with getting my mind on other matters but it wasn't long before I was dreaming of deep fried deliciousness that is McDonalds French fries, but fear not! I went to Subway and though my choice could have been even better, it still was not a heart attack in a bag.
Dinner is probably my greatest challenge because I am always extremely hungry and seem to never make either of the boys happy with my selections and while impatiently waiting for water to boil, meat to brown I scarf down salty potato chips. Last night, I sauteed chicken breast tenders with mesquite seasoning, chicken flavored rice and salad.
Walking just 35 minutes was hard for me to accept as my entire workout, but I did it. I envied the runners to the right ad left, but I proudly walked to the tunes rockin out in my MP3.
So with this, we shall see how I progress because I hope to ultimately lose 20 pounds and a total of 10 inches. Wish me well!
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