Radio Silence

I've reached a point where I can't find anything else to say about what has happened. I find myself wanting to talk about it at moments, to perseverate or stew on the events and rehash everything but I soon discover that nothing I say...nothing I verbalize...will change anything. It sounds like this...

"I feel like...well...I don't know."
Someone else: "Go on. What do you feel?"
"Sometimes I think...but...I guess...never mind."

Every sentence ends in my mind with the following words now: "It's not going to change anything."

Most people know me as a talker. I have to talk everything out. Rehash every detail until my mind can somehow make sense of things, no matter how complex or out of my control. Over the past three weeks I have talked myself in circles in ebbs and flows of feelings.

I guess I have reached a point where I have nothing left to say. Nothing left to throw out there.

I have resigned myself and accepted defeat. Or call it acceptance...I don't know. And accepting these recent twist of events has been the most difficult part. I am not one that easily lies down. I am used to things going the way I planned and failure is not really a part of my normal operating procedure. Maybe this is why I have been so resistant to accepting that there's nothing left to say.

I keep telling myself that this is my story and I have to just accept it. There is nothing more I can say to change it, or to make sense of it because it DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. It's not going to. There is no logic in what has happened to Mondo and I. And I cannot control this event, no matter how hard I try.

And this silence makes me scared. Does this mean I have to move on? Does returning to normal life mean everyone will forget what happened and my pain inside will turn to bitterness and anger? If I stop talking about it, will it fester inside me? What will happen when my guard is down and I don't have the armor up around my heart?  And will my unanswered questions wait and lurk and haunt me in my attempt to move on?

At this point my life is like that awkward moment where you are listening to the car radio intently and suddenly the broadcast is cut off and there is nothing but radio silence. You wait...and wait and wait for the music to start again and in the mean time all you hear is the sound of static and the irritating sound of your turn signal clicking in the dashboard.

Ugly Cry-Face

Throughout this process I have been bowled over numerous times by tears. In times of particular intensity I tend to put on my "ugly cry-face." My family and friends are probably familiar with this face. It's not pretty.

Needless to say, today ugly cry-face came out in the car. The Fray came on the radio and as a person who listens to lyrics of music, I tuned in. And then it started. The ugly crying. I actually had to pull over. It climaxed with the mention of "her."

The Fray's "You Found Me" is about what I am guessing someone's search for God in a time of crisis. A situation I am certainly familiar with in my current predicament. Each day as I search for sense in this horrible event in my life, I continually ask for the support of God...and I tend to find myself asking where He was when my world stopped spinning three weeks ago.

They say God makes everything happen for a reason...and that's all well and good and I am sure it's true. But many times I wondered where He was when I needed him during those unimaginable moments. And where He has been since. "Carrying me" as the old proverb suggests? Watching as I weather this storm?

There are moments of clarity and confidence where I think I have found Him, but it is hard to be sure. Needless to say, this song touched me in a very vulnerable place and sometimes song lyrics can describe my feelings better than I can.

Here they are...

[Verse 1]I found God
On the corner of First and Amistad
Where the west
Was all but won
All alone
Smoking his last cigarette
I said, "Where you been?"
He said, "Ask anything".

[Verse 2]
Where were you
When everything was falling apart?
All my days
Were spent by the telephone
That never rang
And all I needed was a call
That never came
To the corner of First and Amistad

[Chorus 1]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me

[Verse 3]
In the end
Everyone ends up alone
Losing her
The only one who's ever known
Who I am
Who I'm not, who I wanna be
No way to know
How long she will be next to me

[Chorus 2]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me

[Bridge]
Early morning
The city breaks
I've been callin'
For years and years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
Ya never send me no letters
You got some kinda nerve
Taking all I want

[Chorus 3 and outro]
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Where were you? Where were you?
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
Why'd you have to wait?
To find me, to find me

Grief

The dictionary defines the word "grief" as "keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret." I searched the definition because I was and am convinced I am dying. No word so small can even begin to describe what is happening to my mind, my heart and my soul. I thought for sure my current state went beyond the boundaries of such a tiny word, a word with such specific implications for behavior. I thought for sure this word only applied to situations where there is some kind of script for handling them- the loss of a parent, a natural disaster, etc. Situations that most people go through and can relate to. I had been convinced that there was a specific word that would apply to my complex situation- the word "grief" did not seem to cover it.

It seemed unfair that there wasn't a protocol attached to this word that was supposed to sum up my feelings. How does one handle a situation that most people don't even talk about? The words "failed pregnancy," "stillborn," or "pregnancy loss" are taboo and unwelcome in our world. Not only was I facing a situation that no one talks about, but I was facing a unique situation within those confines. And although it exists, most people don't encounter women who have suffered second trimester losses- it's so uncommon that even most doctors consider it to be rare or impossible. "You're past twelve weeks- you're fine! What are you worried about? If a baby makes it past twelve weeks it's pretty much a guarantee." Um no, no it's not. I am living proof of that...and my daughter, Quinn Westlynn Cunha? Her short life is proof of that too. Thinking back to hearing those words from one doctor surfaces a rage inside of me that I am actually scared of.

So, not only am I "grieving" in an arena that most people don't even mention...losing a pregnancy...a BABY... is considered "silent suffering"...but even within that arena I am in a situation that most Americans don't even think is possible. Losing a baby in the second trimester is as likely, to some people, as Barack Obama being a U.S. citizen or the Holocaust ever actually happening.

Beyond that, what does one do when the word "grief" doesn't cover the array of emotions coursing through my heart and body in the wake of this? How do you recover from something so unexpected and what some would consider "impossible?" There isn't a script or even suggestions for how to overcome this unique situation. On one hand I think about the daughter I have lost- her perfect hands and feet...her nose a miniature version of her Daddy's- and the breath is ripped right out of me. I have lost a daughter, there is no getting over that. On the other hand I am also "grieving" so many other things. Questions of "why"- "why me" or "why did this happen" plague my every waking moment. Fear for my future incapacitates me daily. Will I ever have kids? Is there something wrong with me? Can I face a future without kids? Even if I have moments of hope that I could get pregnant again soon I am then filled with dread- how would I face another pregnancy after having been through what I have been through? How would I be able to function knowing that one could end so suddenly and horribly just as this one did? Can my body, mind and spirit handle another loss should it happen again?

Mostly though my "grief" manifests not in the big questions and obvious pain that would come from the above situations, but rather when I do the simplest and smallest things. Of course it hurts to see pregnant women, baby clothes, or hear someone has just learned they are pregnant or has just had a child. However, this "grief" hits me harder when I think about this life and how much courage it will take to face it again after this. I get sad and tired thinking of the amount of energy it will take to be functional again in a world that is so unpredictable and cruel. Although it is irrational, the idea of facing each day knowing what can be ripped away from you at any moment- hopes, dreams, family members- is exhausting. Now I am "grieving" the time when I woke smiling- never having known pain on this level. I grieve the loss of my spirit, my faith and my happiness because at this point they are lost to me and I fear a world without them.

So yes, according to the dictionary I suppose the word "grief" does apply to my current state. What the definition fails to mention is the all-encompassing effect of the grief on my spirit. It doesn't mention that I am lost and afraid because I know I will never be the same and I am scared of the world that has brought this pain in my lap. I am afraid to love as hard as I once did, afraid to feel as deeply as I once did. I can sense the hard shell already forming over my heart. Perhaps that is what I am "grieving" the most- the loss of the "me" that loved without abandon. I know one should not live life with fear in one's heart but when I peek inside my own the walls I have already started building to protect myself show how fearful I am. Fearful to face this world that has asked me to "grieve" so deeply.

Right now all I can do is trust that God did this for a reason and be brave while I wait for that reason to be revealed to me. It is in the waiting that I find myself wishing for a script to follow- to guide me out of this nightmare and back into the waking world where I can love again without fear.

Yearly Planners- A Tangible, Safe Place for my Incessant Need to PLAN

So ever since I was, let's say, a middle schooler, I have been OBSESSED with agendas. No, I am not talking about a travel itinerary or a general plan of action, I am talking about those glorious little books that contain dates and spaces to obsessively plan in. Each year, (and because I am a teacher, MY year starts in September...actually it always has...I never got away from that idea of the fresh, new beginning-of-the-school-year thing) I buy a new planner and start a fresh, possibilities-are-endless planner.

A myriad of planners. Many of the above are not acceptable...why? Read on...

There is something SO exciting about the initial search for the new planner. (Some call it an agenda, but I prefer "planner" as that's exactly what it is. I don't always stick to my "plans" inside the planner, so it's not exactly my agenda, it's a place where I document and plan...hence, it's a planner.) I usually venture out to Barnes and Noble, as I have learned over the years that the buyers at Barnes and Noble just KNOW the right qualities in a planner. They seem to display the best-of-the-best when it comes to planners...a sort of Planner All-Star Team just waiting to be drafted into my arsenal. So, you ask, what do these All-Star Planners have that others don't?

A qualifying planner-candidate must have the following qualities to be a part of my life:

1. Cannot be too bulky. Must be slim, yet hardy...kind of a printed manifestation of my ideal body type.

2. Must fit inside my primary purse of that year. Cannot take up too much space in said purse because as you all know, my chap sticks and endless bottles of Aleve/Tylenol must have ample room.

3. Must have the "right" font. If the font is too big, weird, or common, I will not consider it. The font must be appealing to me- it has the be a font that perfectly represents fun and structure at the same time- kind of like the quality that Hipsters use to pick out clothing- you know it when you see it but it's hard to describe or define in any way.

4. Ample space for writing on each day. A planner that gives you no space to actually WRITE your plans for each day on is not a planner, it's a calendar. Don't try to fool me...I need my space.

Are you kidding me?!?!?! First of all the above planner looks like a doctor's prescription pad. Secondly it is a perfect example of NO WRITING SPACE! My life cannot be contained into two college-ruled lines. This is just insulting! 

5. Typically I will also never choose a planner that has no lines provided on each day. Like I mentioned, I crave structure and a day with no lines is just too abstract for my tastes. How can I properly plan an IEP Meeting at work and a happy Hour with friends on one day if I don't have lines? To do that would be to imply that I drink at IEP Meetings?!?!!? (Tempting, but out of the question.)

The lines provided in this planner are perfect. It would actually be a contender (lays perfectly flat, right paper, good hardy binding, right size, font has the "it factor,") except for the darn flowers. My Tuesdays would be completely marred by these unacceptable graphics. 

6. The "right" paper. I have to be able to write on this paper with a ball-point pen and then highlight over it without smudges, blending, and/or smearing. Therefore, the paper cannot have any kind of lacquer or shiny surface, and it cannot be too thick. I like to be able to make an impression, no pun intended, when I write in it! ;)

7. Some open, unstructured pages for me to write my "lists" in. Those who know me know I make "lists" every day. Some lists are more important than others (long-term plans, future-baby names, People-I'd-Like-To-Punch-In-the-Face, etc.) and some are fleeting scratch-offs that are the product of my A-Type personality needing to get something out of my head and on to paper (Things-To-Do, grocery list, shopping list, etc.).

8. MUST lay flat for writing. Non-Negotiable.

The above planner wouldn't even get a second chance. Number one- it looks like a wallet. Don't insult me. Number two- it would never lay flat, interrupting the careful process of neurotically writing and highlighting events in my life.

9. An overall general appeal that I can't put my finger on. Perhaps it's a combination of all of the above that creates this "It" factor in a planner but nonetheless, if the planner doesn't have that certain quality then it's immediately eliminated from contention.

My planners have been a source of fascination to may people over the years. My best friend, The Rat, often takes my purse from me, opens my planner, and goes through it as if it's a New York Times best-seller. Why? I don't know, but perhaps it's the lists, the color-coding of my events, or the fervor at which I document my appointments. Needless to say my planner is a central and essential part of my life. If I didn't have my planner I would immediately lapse into a panic attack of epic proportions.

And I am not alone in this planner-fascination. In fact, two of my closest and dearest friends have a similar affliction. My friend Tara started documenting her life in her planner at a very early age, like myself. As middle schoolers we documented every single school and social event into our school planners as if we were making the BMMS Bible. As far as I know her fascination has not translated to quite the obsession I have as an adult as she doesn't carry a planner with her 24/7 but I know she appreciates the appeal of a well-built planner.

My friend Tracey, on the other hand, is equally as planner-obsessed as I am and agrees with my list above about what makes an acceptable planner. In fact, Tracey and I choose the same planner each year, in, let's say, July and take turns buying the planners each year. The past two years we have repeated our purchase of one, really great planner from the company "Bob's Your Uncle," which has served us well for the past two years.

Above is the beloved planner we chose to use for 2010-2012. A perfect specimen.

Here is a side-ways view (because I am an idiot) of how neurotically I used this particular planner. Now you can see why The Rat was oddly fascinated by my scribble.

When July of this year rolled around, it was time to choose a new planner for the upcoming year. My search yielded the usual suspects and I became frustrated. It wasn't until I decided it was time to expand my horizons that I found "the one." For the past year I had been languishing in stress and anxiety for various reasons. My personal goal for the upcoming year was to be stress-free and to let things roll off my back. I decided my planner needed to embody my new carefree attitude and remind me, in times of doubt, that I shouldn't take life too seriously. Therefore,  decided to search for planners I would normally rule out based on the "it's too frilly or decorated" rule. In the past my planners had given, at least from the outside, the impression that I was a colorful, yet structured individual. Well, I decided to hell with the structure. This year my planner would scream FUN at every turn without violating too many of my planner rules.

Luckily I stumbled upon a site advertising the new Lily Pulitzer Planner Collection. Normally anything with the "Lily Pulitzer" name tag made my gag-reflex act up. Total BARF-mode on pure principle. However, in order to step outside of my comfort zone I actually clicked on the link and took a look. To my surprise the Lily planners had all the qualities I normally look for and DEFINITELY added the "fun" flavor I needed to be reminded of all year long.

I finally decided on one winner, conveniently based in navy blue to match my purse of this year.

Introducing my 2012-2013 Planner Choice:



Lily Pulitzer "Skip On It"

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

LET THE 2012-2013 PLANNING BEGIN!!! Email me to get "penciled in." ;)



Just What the Doctor Ordered

This part weekend one of my oldest and dearest friends got married. I will spare you all the details...it was gorgeous! Basically the entire wedding party rented out the Inn at Herrington Harbor (where the reception was also held) and it was more of a college reunion than a wedding. Just what the doctor ordered for this morose case of melancholia that I've acquired lately. Why pay thousands for therapy when you can drink, eat and be merry with old friends?!?!

Our celebration began on the 4th of July with a Rehearsal Dinner Crab Feast followed by a booze-fueled party on the Inns beach afterwards. Despite the 105 degree weather, we made out okay and managed to rage until the wee hours of the morning:)

Here are a couple shots from that night:

 Cat and I enjoying the beach:)

 My three oldest and bestest friends.

Me with my slightly tipsy other half:)

The next day was scheduled by the bride and groom as our "off" day to rest and enjoy the Inns amenities. The heat still raged but there was enough pool drinks and tiki bar to get us through. That evening we had the actual rehearsal, followed by a BBQ. Most of us opted for an early bedtime, knowing the next day was the big day!

In the morning the bridesmaids headed over to the "getting ready location" to become beautiful for the ceremony and reception. Lots of make-up, hairspray and cocktails later, we were ready to rock! One of the most fun parts of the weekend was that the bride and groom rented the groom's brother's Penn State Bus to transport the bridal party to and from locations. Here is a shot of the bride and her party enjoying the transportation:

All of the bridesmaids looked gorgeous and each one of us had different and creative hair. Below is a pic of a few of us together in our dresses (SUCH a fun color for a summer wedding) and then a pic of me doing my BEST blue steel to show off my hair for the night. I must say, I am a sucker for a good french braid bun;)

The reception was absolutely flawless and fun was had by all. The bride and groom both commented that it truly was the best days of their lives and that the bridal party certainly added to the overall level of fun!

When I left the Inn the next morning I remember taking a big sigh of relief that I had blown off some steam and was started to feel human again! I must say, the next time I get down in the dumps I am going to remember that all I need is a big group of my closest friends, some beer, crabs, good music and some fake eyelashes and I will feel better in the morning:)

"Our Pets Heads Are falling Off!" Bad Luck or Negative Vibrations?

A series of unfortunate events...a stroke of bad luck...what goes around comes around.... all phrases have been used by people to describe times in their life when things just aren't going well. Whether it be the unfurling of a carefully planned event or the seemingly purposeful string of unfortunate happenings in some one's life, we've all felt that at some point some one's got it out for us...that we are reaping what we've sown or for the less-willing-to-accept-responsibility, that Lady Luck is not in their favor. Recently, Mondo and I have suffered a "series of unfortunate events," not unlike Limony Snicket. Continually we've found ourselves like Lloyd and Harry in the classic movie, "Dumb and Dumber," when they reach a boiling point and their bad luck culminates in their "pets heads falling off!"

This morning's latest news, the death of my childhood cat, made this analogy all too real for us. Just last week, after hearing other bad news, we glanced over at our dog, Snoop, and casually said, "what's with our luck lately? At least our pet's heads aren't falling off." Although Merra's head didn't actually fall off, the news this morning certainly made us think twice- was it just bad luck, or were we actually creating our own fortune?

Is it possible to anticipate bad things enough that you actually project negative energy into the Universe causing bad things to happen? We've all heard the theories that say that when you think positively, it actually CAUSES your life to move forward in a positive manner? But is this true or are things going to happen no matter how much you worry, perseverate, and/or analyze them? It's an age-old question. One that has caused many a cliched euphemism- "you reap what you sow," and "karma's a b*&%h." It's been the center of songs, poems, lyrics (JT's "What Goes Around Comes Around" anyone?) since the beginning of time.

But is it really accurate? Did Amelia Earhart ever think twice about her ability to fly across the world? If so, would she have crashed the first time- her doubt actually causing her fate to change? Did she doubt herself during the fateful trip that eventually caused her disappearance over the Pacific, never to be heard from again? Did Christopher Columbus visualize himself making it to the New World? Did his positive thinking cause his ultimate success? Did Michael Phelps picture himself holding eight gold medals? If he had only pictured himself with two would it have changed his performance? How powerful is the mind? Or to throw another twist on things, was it something each had done earlier in their lives or even that day that caused their lives to move in that direction- Phelps had stolen an old lady's purse on the street, would he still have enough good "karma" to win the gold medals? Who controls fate? Is it karma, positive thinking/the mind, or God? A combination of the three?

Then, once you find yourself  in a rut of bad luck, if that's what it is, how do you reverse it? Create positive karma which you hope will counteract the bad karma that's been following you? Pray to God to ask for Him to change your luck? What if it's "Thy will be done?"

This week I had the opportunity to visit a Senior Center where I encountered an elderly woman by the name of Jensis. Jensis self-soothed by openly singing gospel songs. I was lucky enough to overhear a spirited rendition of "Got Jesus on the Main Line." As Jensis sang the chorus, "got Jesus on the main line, tell Him what you want," I began thinking...Is it that easy? Can I just "call" on Jesus to reverse my bad luck? I turned to Jensis, mid-lyric, and said, "I think I will." She said, "You think you will do what, baby?" in her southern drawl I love so much. "I think I will tell Jesus what I want...on the main line." She smiled, looked me in the eye, leaned over and said "And you'll be surprised how fast you get it, baby. He'll make your head spin!"

But is it that easy? Can I make all this go away, this bad luck, just by calling Jesus on the "main line?" Another friend, after listening to me drivel on for weeks about my "bad luck," suggested the power of positive thinking. That by thinking positively, emitting positivity and openness into the universe, I could change my luck. That it wasn't luck, but rather a self-fulfilling prophecy. Both theories held equal weight in my mind.

I even had a dead relative weigh in recently. No really, it's true. I visited a town called Lilydale in upstate New York. It's the world's largest concentration of spiritual mediums in the U.S. Call me crazy but I had a feeling there was an answer there for me. And I was right. Upon my arrival I attended a "group reading," out of curiosity. There were maybe 150 people there, hoping to hear from someone departed. A medium stepped up and pointed me out. "You, in the green." I had on a bright green shirt. I looked around, dumbfounded, and nodded. "Can I come to you with a message?" Um...YES PLEASE. "Your grandmother is standing next to you. She's holding a rolling pin above your head, like she wants to tap you with it." I looked around, nodding like a bobble-head. "She is telling me you have been selling yourself short with negative thinking. You are seeing yourself down here," he gestured towards the ground, "and you should be seeing yourself up here," he then gestured to about his shoulder level. "She asks why you have forgotten the power of being an intelligent, beautiful and vibrant young woman. She's irritated you're selling yourself short." It made sense...after all, I HAD been negative and hard on myself for about a year now. It was dragging me down, into a bit of a slump. Hence the bad luck. I nodded, thanked him, and went to find my Mom and sister afterwards. "What's with the rolling pin?" I asked them. "That seems weird." My Mom calmly turned to me and said, "It was Granny. Her rolling pin is hanging on my kitchen wall. She used it to bake her pecan pies." I was in awe. It was legit.

So here I sit, two weeks later, my series of unfortunate events continuing, trying to figure out how to end this pattern, whatever it is. Whether it's bad luck, karma, or God's plan, I cannot say. What I do know is that there has been SOME good that came out of it. Due to my flat tire on Monday, which I thught was just one more bad event, I was forced to sleep at my parents house to get to work the next day. Because of that, I was able to see my childhood cat for the last time, although I would have no idea he would leave this earth this Saturday, I was able to hold him and pet him for the last time. Because of the more serious events that have happened, I have grown closer to my husband that I ever knew possible. Got to see the bright side, right? Wait a minute...is that the beginning of positive thinking? Perhaps this will be the beginning of a new day, an end to my bad luck...

...maybe "our pets heads..." will stop "falling off..."

:)

Give Yourself A Break!

Yes, it sounds like a cliched Demi Lovato song. But it's something I have kept repeating to myself a lot lately, mostly in fits of undeserved self-analysis and self-reflection. Basically, several times during the day, if I'm idle or alone, I start to beat myself up. It starts innocently. I will begin with benign pinches or kicks- I ate too much for lunch or I should've taken more time on my hair...then the innocent jabbing spirals into a full-blown, all-out assault on my entire being- I am a bad person, I'm lazy, I am wasting my life...blah blah blah. Needless to say, by the end I am not only battered and bruised but I have crushed my self-esteem into the equivalent of lifeless roadkill. I'm not sure when I started doing this. I don;t remember doing it in high school and I think I was too busy or drunk in college to realize it if I did it then. But it's turned into a destructive adult past time that I do NOT hold dear.

Recently it's reached an all-time high in terms of frequency and intensity. It's not cool and it serves no purpose. All this I know logically but nevertheless I find myself in the middle of an all-out assault on myself pretty much daily. And it's got to stop. I blame half of it on the fact that I have almost instantaneous access to everyone else's lives thanks to facebook and my ability to easily compare and contrast my life with others is at my fingertips. Need to see how you fare socially, economically and physically with your peers? Simply open up your Facebook app on your Iphone or Droid and BAM, you can instantly see the sometimes shameless self-promotion of your peers right on your couch or in your car. Look at me, my life is perfect- each post says- because naturally, we only post things we are proud of. On facebook it isn't often that you encounter brave souls who selflessly promote their insecurities and foibles. We don't see people broadcasting that they fear for their jobs or that they are in an unhappy marriage...that they don't like the way they look or that they wish they had more money. Instead we see only the things people want us to see- which doesn't ever tell us the whole story.

So, you can see how seeing "perfect people" everyday on facebook can lead to self-comparison and ultimately destructive analysis of my own self. Not that facebook is completely to blame, but it certainly adds fuel to the fire. I once heard someone say that it's impossible to enjoy your own meal when you are constantly looking at what's on everyone else's plate. And that resonated with me. However, I still can;t stop myself when I open my Iphone and see the Facebook app. It's like an addiction that I can't quit!

So, although I've made an effort lately to stop facebook lurking, I decided it was time to build my defenses when my dark side decides it's time for a little Bethany-ass-kicking. Just like the lame Demi Lovato song croons, it is time to "give my heart a break." (Lame, I know, but true.) I need to stop focusing on all the bad things that are either hallucinated or reality, and instead build myself back up. Just like Rocky did in all those movies Mondo loves so much, I need to train to fight the mean Russian-bethany that wants to pummel my self-esteem to pieces.

I decided when I do face that opponent in the ring I will fight back. With each blow to my self-esteem or confidence, I will make a conscious effort to swing back with something good about myself. Yes, I may need to get my arms in better shape like that person I saw on facebook but I am a damn good friend and I wrote such a nice letter to someone just yesterday. I may have gossiped too much at work last week but I am damn proud that I went to bat for that kid who has it hard at home. My house may not be spick and span but it's filled with love everyday. I may not be able to afford that dress I saw online but I shared a good laugh with my sister over the phone and those are the moments that count.
Each swing at the punching bag of my heart can be countered with a little TLC. It's about damn time I started remembering the good things about my life and myself or I will waste away into a miserable, hideous creature- and God knows there are enough people like that in the world. It's time I started giving myself a break and counting my blessings.

If you hear me humming lame Demi Lovato songs (inevitably off-key), you'll know why...it's time I "gave my heart a break."

"GPS Recalculating..."

I've always prided myself on the ability to "know what to do." Often I rely on a gut feeling to guide my "next move," you know, one of those feelings that grabs ahold of your stomach and propels you to move in one direction or another. Sometimes I consult others, talking myself in circles until the other person suggests a plan that resonates with me. Either way I have a direction to take- a next move on the mapquest print-out of life.

My experience reacting to life's twists and turns has usually been pretty spot on. Rarely have I chosen a "wrong turn" that I couldn't quickly amend- although my GPS has "recalculated" before, I haven't ended up somewhere I regretted. Overall my reactions and choices have been good ones.

Perhaps this is why I have deluded myself into thinking that I can control my path in life. So accurate has my sense of direction been that I have mistakenly thought that I can control my future. That there's no need to rely on the Universe to steer me- the proverbial "Jesus, take the wheel!" has never been on my radar. Sure, there have been times when I've thrown up my hands and said, "whatever will be will be," and there's certainly been times when I have given up control, plopped myself on the floor and accepted defeat...however there has always been the underlying feeling that my actions do, indeed, affect my "fate," and that I can still, in some sick way, control it.


Recently, however, something happened that was not on the map. A bump in the road so unexpected it completely threw off my sense of direction. As I reeled from it...let it play out in my thoughts over and over again, I could not control it. I tried...tried to recap my thoughts and determine the moment I made it happen...the moment I decided it was on the itinerary...but I couldn't. For once, I had to admit, I could not control it. It had been completely out of my hands...and this was perhaps the most disturbing and jarring moment.

Control has always been my safe zone. I don't do well with gray area- things are either black or white- this way I know what to expect- can add color as I see fit. I am not comfortable with spontaneous plans, trips...feelings. If I am prepared for it, it cannot hurt me.

Perhaps this event was supposed to be a "teachable moment" for me. An opportunity to help me realize that life cannot be "controlled" and I am certainly not the one in charge. I don't know how I feel about this. After all, we grew up thinking that "man controls his fate." I guess that control, like everything else, has it's limits.

Perhaps the event was a result of karma. I haven't been the most positive person recently. I have spent most of the last year projecting negativity...a result of stress and loss of perspective. If what happened is my karma, then I accept it. I do resolve to project into the world what I hope to be projected back at me.

I suppose I can rationalize and analyze the event til the cows come home, but isn't that just another attempt at controlling it? Can I not just accept that it happened and move forward?

I recently said to my husband that I feel like I am so busy controlling and rationalizing everything that I have lost the joy in my life...forgotten who I am deep down inside. Lost the joy and the laughter. I must admit, it sure feels that way.

When I was little my father called me a "Pecking Hen." I was always so busy peck-peck-pecking at everything. Perhaps this event was a reminder that if I peck too much at life, I will miss out on the joy of the unpredictability of it. No matter how much you peck at the world around you, someone could still sneak up and steal your eggs!

Since this event happened, I have tried to use my gut feelings to move forward, tried to dig deep to bolster myself back up instead of wallowing in this gray area. But it seems my "GPS" is busy recalculating... I don't have a certain,  discernable direction to take. It's unsettling. I have to keep reminding myself that this feeling is telling me to stop seeking direction from myself- stop trying to control this. I keep hearing some twangy country singer saying "let Jesus take the wheel!" I guess this time, I will have to sit shot-gun and let the real driver drive this car. He's got the most up to date map, after all.