Scorpio Passion

The other day I spoke to someone who was genuinely surprised to learn my birthday was coming up, thus making me a Scorpio. When they said, but you're so nice, I chuckled a bit and said, well, you've never scorned me. I was also recently complimented on my energy as a yoga instructor. Not like the energizer bunny sort of energy, because we all know I desperately lack that, but the energy that radiates from each of us. I was told it was positive and uplifting and my students can feel it, and that it's not something you can teach to new instructors, or anyone for that matter.

These couple compliments, combined with my utterly unhealthy obsession with my vampire novels and my continuing drama of being married to an alcoholic, all got me to thinking about a few things.

1. I must have some vampire magic to be able to exude such energy or a positive and uplifting aura, if you will, because God knows... as does my family, most days that's just not me.

2. Perhaps my obsession with reading stories of epic love, magic and fantasy is what allows me to hide the anger, resentment and negativity that otherwise consumes me.

3. The passion that engulfs Scorpios is like an addiction. It is an addiction.

I've often wondered why I get so addicted to whatever it is I find that pulls me away from reality. Ultimately, I know we create our own reality. Yoga, as well as many self help books I read as a teen and young adult, and my Jewish faith has reminded of this truth time and time again. I can only feel consumed by anger and resentment if I allow myself to. I am only down on my self or life or all that feels wrong if I focus on those things and allow myself to feel down. Despite knowing this, there's that side of me that is passionately pulled by truth, so to not feel these things seems like I'm lying to myself. Because the fact is, I'm not happy. It's that simple.

I realized the man I have loved for what feels like forever was hiding his addiction too late. I was already overtaken by the passionate idea that fate reunited us and our paths crossed once again because the universe was screaming, this is the way it was meant to be, you silly girl. Don't ignore it or walk away again. Over the years, I have watched this man I knew in college, who was wild and crazy and loved me like no one else in the world existed, slip into a version of the man I knew he could become. I also always knew he could have just as easily morphed into a different man, if only he cared enough about himself to become that person. It's heart wrenching to watch and even more grueling to accept this reality when you love someone.

So, I'm back to submerging myself in the fantasy world of supernatural beings and magic and well, stories of the kind of love that takes your breath away. I become obsessed with, addicted to, stories that describe the passion that can surround two people so completely that the drama, trials and tribulations and darkness that undoubtedly lives in this world seems like daisies and rainbows as long as they have each other. Many times, a long time ago, our love felt like this. Despite not keeping in touch very often, if at all, for a couple years, that love I once knew was part of the pull that told me many times, before I finally listened, to call off a wedding to someone I was never meant to marry but rather I had simply lost myself in the idea. That love saved me from a very different path I was on. Yet, that love that pulled me back to my path seems to have gotten stuck back in that other life I once knew.

Facing my current reality is not something I can emotionally tackle. I've reached a point that I have too much anger to cry. Even when a "normal" feeling person would and "should", I find myself stoic, at least to the sadness. The anger is something I'm quite able to express. Lately though, I get this overwhelming need to cry. Often many times each day. Yet I still can't. Sometimes I think I can't because if I let myself, I won't ever stop. Every regret, every ounce of anger, frustration, resentment, sadness, grief will seep through and because there is just SO much of it now, how could I ever stop? There's just no time for tears. While I feel it's important that my kids learn that tears aren't a bad thing, I also don't want them to think I'm always sad. I don't want them to know I'm always sad. I want them to be happy. So, I fake it. The best I can anyway. It seems, based on some of the recent "compliments" I've received, I'm doing pretty well at faking my positive, content and uplifting vibes onto the world.

Based on what I know about, be the change you wish to see in the world or be the light you wish to fill the world with, as I like to picture it, the fact that I'm able to do this so well would imply that I would start to feel that light within. It's been quite some time now, over a year since I started my yoga teacher training anyway, which is when I was able to hone in more clearly on pushing that light outward, yet I still can't seem to feel it within me. Maybe I just won't allow it in because it seems every time I feel a glimmer of it, I taste the bitterness of another lie, another letdown and the hope once again fades.

This makes me wonder. Is it my brooding, serious Scorpio side that prevents me from absorbing the very energy of light and love and contentment I can exude? If others actions can't control how I feel, then it must be me, right? Is it the side of me that screams, be careful not to scorn me or you will feel my inability, or lack of desire, to forgive and forget, forever? And thus, I hold on to that feeling of being scorn, over and over, and allow it to consume me. Is it possible for a person to change their essence? I do believe everyone has both darkness and light within them. Despite my paranormal fantasy books being just that, fantasy, there is a great deal of truth to them. That is one of the truth's I certainly believe.

My addiction to these fantasies is clearly a representation of what I crave the most in my reality. My inability to put one of these fantasy books down once I start is part of my personality that desires a passionate life. A life of meaning beyond what mere words can describe, a life of love that means something, of trust that has no limits. My Scorpio side that feels everything to the umpteeth degree tells me to keep reading because my reality is too painful. To truly face real life and accept it for what it is, at this moment, would mean I have to let those tears escape. To do that would mean not knowing when or how to stop them. So, my overly practical, I am strong enough to face anything side, runs in the opposite direction, leaving my own light and darkness to battle it out inside as I show the outside that all is calm.

Right now I simply know no other way. Meditation forces me to accept things I don't want to. Playing with my kids reminds me that I must make very difficult decisions that will impact their lives forever, and I am beyond terrified of making the wrong decision for them. Practicing yoga feels selfish, as well as being a road towards accepting reality. But teaching it allows me to "fake" my reality, my light. It's all very ironic, really. The one thing I desire most in life is trust. Passionate and irrevocable trust. And here I am forcing myself to pretend. To lie to myself. To lie to all those who see something around me and within me that I simply do not feel. As always, it seems we've come full circle.

As fate would have it, I started another one of my vampire books today
and this quote started the second chapter.

 

Rainbow Bridge

I'm sitting here trying not to cry so I can see the screen. I'm trying not to shake so my fingers can hit the correct buttons on the keypad. I'm trying very hard to put letters into words and words into sentences and to even think clearly because a couple of hours ago my entire brain seemed to short circuit. I went upstairs to my room to grab a book for my neighbor to borrow. What I found was completely unexpected. I saw my fur baby, Apollo, laying at the foot of our bed... and I realized he wasn't moving. I said his name. He didn't move. Like I always do when I call his name and he doesn't move, I looked at his big boxer chest but this time instead of getting that instant relief, I froze and stared a bit longer because I saw it wasn't moving either. I bolted downstairs and told my husband and neighbor that I thought Apollo was dead... and I wasn't going back up there. I've said this before since he can sleep like he's in a coma, so I allowed myself to have a brief moment of hope, the tiniest moment. In my heart I already knew the moment that I saw him. This time I knew he wouldn't be trotting down the steps behind them to greet his mama with his goofy boxer wiggle.

I've never lost a pet. I only had a cat once as a kid but my mom had to give it away when we moved because they wouldn't allow cats. As an adult I found out she didn't take it to a farm like every parent tells their child when they give their pet away, but she took him to the pound. So, I never truly experienced the loss of a pet, because Apollo was my first to lose.

My heart has always ached for those that have lost their beloved pets though. Once I had Apollo I knew how dogs aren't just dogs, they really are family. This dog in particular filled a void for me that no one else could, at a time when I didn't think my heart would ever heal.

I recently adopted another fur child because I felt so guilty that I couldn't spend as much time with Apollo, or give him the attention he needed, once I became so busy with my kids. I hoped that having another pup around would give him the companionship he craved while giving the pup we rescued the comfort of a safe, loving home. And a crazy, big fur brother to play with and protect her. All he wanted was to be loved, and to love. I hope he felt just how much he was loved until his very last breath. Actually, I wish it with everything I have so that just in case he didn't know maybe that energy can reach him wherever he is now and he'll feel it. Despite driving us a bit crazy most days, I loved my Apollo.

That's one of hardest things about this. Apollo was a very high maintenance dog. As such, there were many days when I thought how life would be so much easier once he passed on. I even talked about and looked into finding a good home for him, a couple times. His separation anxiety was beyond compare. Since a little pup with his little cast on, he's been a handful, to say the least. Yes, one of the kids where we bought him dropped him a few days before I was set to pick him and he broke his leg. That whole, oh dogs won't pee and poop where they sleep... yeah, not this crazy guy. He would crap all over his crate as a pup and them stomp through it simply out of spite! I came home from work one day to the whole guest bedroom splattered in his crap! So, we left him out. The first time we tried this he apparently jumped at the front door, scratching and chewing at it, trying to unlock it all day. Another time he managed to use his leash hanging on the closet door to open it and drag everything that was on the floor in the closet out and all around the house. The vacuum, paint brushes, you name it.

So back in the crate he went. He figured out how to unlock the crate with this mouth I assume based on the amount of slobber all over the place. We pad locked it. Not a good idea. He would flail his body off of his crate when he couldn't get it open to the point that we believe he damaged his spleen which is likely what led to twisted stomach which led to surgery for both issues. This was about 5 years ago. So, back to no more crate. Once we had kids the baby gates came in handy. Especially since he took up the hobby of counter surfing. This is a dog who would puke at least weekly due to his anxiety or stomach issues or who knows what but he could eat a pound of raw chicken off the counter and be just fine! If nothing else, Apollo was one of a kind.

Clearly, he was quite the handful. But anyone, anyone he didn't attack that is, because yes, he started to do that shortly before the kids were born, could only say one thing...he's such a good dog. In so many ways he was. Like I said, all he ever wanted was love and attention. Period. He was a 60 pound lap dog whose desire to protect his family often got him in a bit of trouble. He seemed to have a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde personality at times too and would often forget that he just met someone and they were okay and proceed to go after them like he was a momma bear protecting her cubs. Just yesterday he managed to bust through the gate, which wasn't latched properly, and jump on the mailman. Thankfully, he didn't bite him. But that also means yesterday was one of those days where mommy was very angry with her fur baby and the hubs was cursing him and well, today, today he feels a bit like he cursed him to death. And I am feeling so guilty because I can't even remember if I gave him a hug or pet him today!

I'm truly in a state of disbelief. I can't believe that my baby is gone! There were far too many times I dreamed of the day of not having to find someone to house sit him because he couldn't be boarded...the whole crate issue. Days where I wished I could just have the kids friends come over to play but I couldn't take the chance of Apollo jumping on them, or worse, or having him chew and scratch the door I put him behind while we had friends over. There were far too many days when I knew all he wanted was a walk but I couldn't because if he went after someone I might not be able to hold him back and keep the kids safe. I hated having to sit in the "bad doggy" hallway at the vet or waiting for people to come out so we could go in because he was just too unpredictable. There were far too many days when I thought life would be so much easier without him.

Now that day is here and all I can do is cry. All I wish is that he didn't die alone and I could have helped him or at least held him as he moved on to make sure he knew just how much he was loved. I hope he jumped right into my Pap's arms when he crossed over, because I know my Pap's been waiting for his best bud to come meet him again. It's the only part of losing my first baby that gives me the tiniest bit of peace right now. Because right now, I feel like he deserved so much more from me.

 

Breath of Patience and Peace

I've been writing to you all a TON. What, you haven't seen any of it? Oh, right, it's all still in my head! Have no fear though. I am keeping to my do more of the things I need to stay grounded, happy and healthy New Year goal. My sankalpa assignment, if you will.

I made it to a yoga class at my old studio in PA while there for the big event. My brother in law was married and our sweet princess looked like a real princess as one of the flower girls. Even the hubs cleaned up nicely as a groomsman.

               My real life princess!! 

Also while there, and since, I've read more nights than not, I've played with the kids, actually played, I've worked in the garden and yard a bit, cooked more and as a result of all this, or at least I'm taking it as a cause/effect, I've noticed I've been sleeping more soundly. Which is practically a miracle in my world. Though I'm still tired most days, after years of restless sleep and waking more times than I can count, I think feeling refreshed when I wake will take quite some time. And a good body detox!

That is one thing I'm still procrastinating. I keep saying I'll do it, I'll start cutting back on sugar tomorrow, or Saturday, or.... then that damn ice cream isle at the grocery store just sucks me in and I find myself standing in front of the cookie carmel crunch gelato I've become obsessed with and well, that's all she wrote with the well intentioned thoughts of a cleansing. So I go home and juice to try to make myself feel better. For those of you who are not familiar with some clean eating lingo, no, I'm not taking steroids! I put fresh organic fruits and veggies in my juicer and make some yummy, healthy concoctions... thus, I juice.

But, enough of all that. I actually have a free morning with nothing to do except buy the hubs some more hair pomade so let's get to some more of what I've been writing to you these past weeks out of my head. 

A lot it has focused around introspection (shocker) and analyzing my yoga career. As I gain momentum with building up new classes and picking up classes to teach here and there, I've found myself practicing less. Which sucks. And I need to figure that one out still. 

I've also found that some classes can really test my patience. I find this oddly ironic considering I chose to switch gears a bit in the way I help others to get away from situations that would bring up feelings I consider negative, or that I would prefer to steer clear of in my life. As such, I needed to contemplate why such emotions are stirring in me at times.

What I've decided is the one class that tests my patience the most is meant to be a part of my life. I can't fly off the handle after directing someone to put their right foot forward for a warrior 1 three, four, five times as they do everything with their body BUT put their right foot forward. I must maintain my calm, peaceful demeanor and PATIENCE! After all, I'm there to help them, to guide them towards their own inner peace through the movement and breath that yoga can offer. And clearly, anyone whose mind is that preoccupied that they can't follow a one step direction or who is so out of touch with their own body awareness that they can't find their right foot and place it in front of their body, NEEDS my help. And I need this sort of test each week.

I continue to struggle with yelling in the home, at my kids. Sometimes they need to be yelled at, they can be quite naughty and don't hear anyone until the octave is louder than them. But, I don't want this. I want a yell free home! A calm home. A peaceful home. Or, as peaceful as a home can possibly be with 2 young kids and 2 fur children. It's so difficult to break habits, as we all know well, so practicing such patience AT home is more challenging. And that's where my reframe came in as I was debating dropping this yoga class that tests my patience and at times I even dread going to teach.

The thing is, I have a couple of yoginis in that class that have so much potential to really benefit from all yoga has to offer anyone willing to learn. I look at them and think back to my days of practicing yoga in a gym setting and how much I thought I knew because I was good at the poses and smiling as I realize I knew nothing about yoga back then! Well, I knew it made me feel good. I'd love to offer them this knowledge but I've found it's best to allow yoga to develop slowly for each person. Everyone's practice must develop at their own pace and ability to accept it into their lives. Because in the end, yoga will change your life. Everyone needs to ready, or willing, to accept a life change, no matter what that change is, for it to be meaningful and lasting. To truly practice yoga, it's not possible to stay where you are now. Heck, to live life that's not possible! But that's too philosophical. I'm just talking about   patience here. 

Yoga is a lifelong journey. So, I feel it's my duty to keep going. To keep pushing my students who I can see have that aura about them that desires to soak it all in. To let the energy that is yoga sustain them each week. I keep going to help the one who needs me. The one who needs to find some peace. Because perhaps once this person finds some peace through their breath, they will find their right foot when it's time to bring it forward. And that is why I teach to begin with.

Though, in truth, I've decided to keep teaching this class as much for me as for each of them. The only way I can stay on my own path of peace is to stay focused on my breath. And Lord knows, I need my breath to guide me gently and calmly through this blessing of a class that has found me!

Namaste my friends.

Age is Just a Number, Right?

I always wanted to be one of those people who aged gracefully. A person who took each year as an exciting new adventure; a gift. Though I'm not exactly surprised, I am having a bit of a hard time accepting that I'm getting older. Like most things in my life, I am a bit of a control freak and lack the innate ability to just, go with the flow. I have an awesome yoga shirt that dons this phrase. But it's more of a reminder for myself than a proclamation to others of how I actually live.

This whole, woe is me; it sucks to get old, thing came about because of that wonderful technology we know and love as, FaceTime. I used to think it would be so cool to be able to see the person you're talking to on the phone back when JEM was decades ahead of her time. That's the right 80's cartoon, right? Either way, all I could think as I talked to my husband all the way on the other side of the world was, man, is THAT really what I look like?! I look so homely and OLD. I look old. I used to be so photogenic! What the heck happened? What are all those lines on my face? When did they appear?

Now, the husband wasn't looking all that great himself, but it was 6am and he had just rolled out of bed...in China. I think he gets a pass. To make myself feel the tiniest bit better about my looming birthday in 6 weeks, 6pm isn't exactly my prime either as I race around the kitchen feeding the dogs and dodging food that the kids decide they don't like even though 5 minutes prior they were jumping up and down screaming for it, all while trying to think of something I feel like eating so I have enough energy to make it through the nighttime stretch of baths and the torturous bedtime "routine". No, I'm not this crazed every night but like I said, my husband is 1/2 way around the world and the "single-parenting" thing is NOT my forte! I am in constant awe of how my mom did it or how any single parent does it, especially with little ones, all on their own, ALL the time. Truly amazing. And here I am all bummed about getting older! So lame. And I just used the word "lame"! What decade is that from anyway?! Good grief.

I'm off topic though. Lame or not, this is about me! Me looking old to be exact. I can't lie. It gets me a bit down. No reason not to admit it just because there are real issues going on in the world and getting older is one of a very few things that is inevitable in life. Sure, lots of people try to fight it with creams and surgery and who knows what else some people are choosing to inject into their bodies. But in the end, we all get old... and eventually, we all die. It is what it is. It's life. We can't change it, so why not just accept it. Embrace it.

This is where my brain battles itself with being that person who embraces it and goes with the flow, because logically there's really no other way to live, and the person who looks in the mirror and contemplates buying hair dye, starting to wear make up, or maybe at least doing my hair each day and then notices the calendar and that looming birthday and then pouts about it all. To be clear... I'm only going to be 36. I know, "I'm a baby". But for some reason 36 feels like 40 to me. Probably because it tips me on to the side of being closer to 40 than 30. And 40 feels old, even though I know it's not. Not even close.

I can't help but remember my mom's big 40th bash. I came home from college with a few friends to celebrate. She has a Halloween birthday so it was a costume party, and truly a great time. I was 20! Yes, she was a young mom and I didn't have my first baby until 31, but still, it's difficult to look at my babies and realize that will be my big bash in just a handful of years and to picture this memory of my mom turning 40. And, yes, yes I know 50 is the new 40; 60 the new 50, blah, blah... but with each new pain, each new line, each new gray hair, I think, that's a bunch of BS! I FEEL old. And if I feel old now, how the heck am I going to feel at 70?

Many people still comment on how young I look. Yet, I rarely get carded anymore. Aren't you supposed to look at least 35 to not be carded? I know I AM 35, but if I look "young", I imagine my 20's. So card me, dammit! Ironically, I used to get rather annoyed when I'd have to break out my ID all the time. I even licked and stuck my license to my forehead in Vegas while celebrating my 23rd birthday because I was getting stopped every couple steps I took. Yes, I just cringed at the thought of licking my license. It was funny at the time.

They say you're only as old as you act and perhaps that's the problem. I feel like I went from this wild child in college, and even a bit beyond, to this ultra responsible, worrying, no fun, I need to be in bed by 10:30 or I'm going to be a grump tomorrow, old lady! There are many reasons for this and I can analyze the why of it all until the cows come home but the reality is, I get mad when my husband says I'm no fun because the truth is, I'm really not. I worry so much about my kids and all the awful things that could happen but statistically are very unlikely or how I'm going to screw them up or how to protect them from the infinite ways life can strip them of their innocence and glory days of childhood too young that I have forgotten to be me. I've forgotten how to have fun. I get so hung up on cleaning the dishes after each meal and errands or what to cook and doctor appointments and taking care of the dogs, who really need walked and more attention, and trying to vacuum all the dog hair and crumbs from the floor and changing diapers or wiping butts and doing laundry, forget about actually folding it... that not only have I forgotten to be me and how to have fun as a grown up but I forget to actually HAVE fun and play with my kids! No wonder I feel old. Playing is the one thing that keeps you young. As my kids would say, silly me.

Dancing with them and running around and just being goofy. Letting them get messy with painting or bubbles or even just water... I simply forget, or avoid it all together because I see it as extra work, or one more thing I have to do. And frankly, I'm just too tired to add anything else to the never ending to-do list. Worse, I get mad at them if they do one of these things that is so much fun and it makes more of a mess for me. So instead of embracing it...I zone out. I check email or facebook or run another errand and at night just veg out looking something up online or watching some stupid tv show. I don't do the things I really want to do like my home yoga practice, read, write... I forget to be me. In place of being me, I just sit and get old. Then I wonder why I feel old. And I see myself on FaceTime and wonder when I started to look old. And then I pout about it.

And now I sit here and wonder how I can change this cycle and get back to being me. To having fun. To continue my never ending challenge of letting go and simply LIVING. Enjoying life. I know ME is a 180 from the me I think of 10, even 5 years ago, but I still miss and need her. My family needs her. I don't need the wild me, just a little fun to keep me young. All it takes is changing something to break the cycle. Any cycle. Maybe coming here tonight is that something, since each night comes and I tend to say, oh, I'll write tomorrow... Though I have a feeling I need more. Something I can do each day, something that will form a more lasting change. I need a sankalpa assignment! I loved the one I did during my yoga teacher training. Perhaps it's time I return to that place that made me happy and free and find myself again. Not perhaps. It is time. I has to be. Otherwise, I'm going to actually BE old one day and regret not living!

5774

L'shana Tova Tikatevu... May you be inscribed (in the Book of Life) for a good year.

 

Miriam awakening us with the shofar!
Picture credit Jacob's Bones

 

Saying shana tova during Rosh Hashana seems like such a simple phrase. No more powerful than "good morning" for instance. Often equated to Happy New Year, yet in reality it's such a profound and moving sentiment. Wishing someone life for another year. And not just any life, but a good life. Isn't that what we all want each day? Simply a good life? Something that isn't always so simple.

I love the High Holidays because they are so powerful. The simple becomes meaningful and intense. The mundane that often accounts for our daily comings and goings suddenly reminds us that there is purpose in every step. Every word we speak can impact us and those around us. Every thought we have emits an energy into the world that has a ripple effect. Every breath we take literally IS life.

The High Holidays make us stop and remember that there is more than just us and our simple lives of work and carpooling and soccer practice and swimming lessons. There is more than just us and our pains, our sorrow, our grief for those we have lost. These days remind us that we are just a tiny part of this immense universe, yet our place here is essential and it means something. Even if we are unsure of what.

While I tend to be reflective about my life and ways I can better myself throughout the year and I also tend to be brutally hard on myself when I don't live up to my own expectations of humanity, love and compassion, such contemplation on a daily basis that the High Holidays evokes would drain us of life. I think. It would be all consuming to ponder our purpose and existence in the universe each moment of each day, 365 days per year. There must be balance in order to fulfill that "good life" this holiday wishes for each of us.

During the High Holidays I tend to be even harder on myself than I already am daily. My imperfections can crush my heart as I think back over the year about some of the awful things I've thought, said and done, even to those I love the most. I tend to forget to reflect on all the good. In a way that's okay since this is a time to repent, to ask family and friends for forgiveness. To ask God for forgiveness for all those times I didn't live up to the image God created me in. But we should never forget the good in each of us. The good is hope and hope is fundamental for improving.

The High Holidays are a time to create and renew personal vows of betterment. It's a time to remind us of who we desire to be and to actively work harder to become that person. Imagine if every single person took such a short period of time each year to do such a thing the kind of world this would be?! We truly would create a heaven on earth, as it was meant to be. Such a thought always makes me smile. Always gives me hope.

This is a time of year I push aside the reality of all the hate that exists. Of the wars and senseless deaths and murder. Of the horrific crimes against humanity that are taking place in far too many places even as I type right now. I can't think of those things. It is too overwhelming to think of how much work the world needs to be better. This is the one time each year I can 100% focus on being a better ME. A better mother. A better wife. A better daughter and friend. A better person. It's a time to be selfish in a way. For me, it is in the selfishness it takes to be a better person where one can achieve selflessness, which is precisely what this world needs.

While all of this is moving and powerful beyond measure, one aspect of the High Holidays I love and have been dwelling on this year is the annulment of past vows. Not vows like marriage vows, but more new year resolutions type of vows. There are a number of specifics regarding this annulment bit, but for me it's a relief to let go. I set new resolutions each year and each year I feel awful as I read all the things I promised myself I would do to be that better person and then never fulfilled. It's a chance to let go. To start new. To make new vows to myself, with God. To work harder to fulfill them this year. It provides me the opportunity to let go of past regret without guilt.

Ironically, this is the one part I struggle with the most! The High Holidays grant us this "pass", yet letting go of past guilt and regret remains my greatest challenge. It's possibly the most significant hindrance in my quest for being the best me I can be. And now I sound like a US Army commercial. Oy vey!

Seriously though. This year, instead of my usual list of lofty vows which I rarely keep, at least not for long, I've decided... as in at this moment I just decided... that my only vow will be, to let go. To believe in this little piece of the High Holidays, the annulment of past vows, and just. let. the. past. be. It may not be the traditional take on this annulment of vows thing. It certainly doesn't encapsulate what the High Holidays stand for. But trying to improve who I am each day so I can shine a brighter light into this world, which I see as desperately craving more light, certainly is what the High Holidays stand for. To me anyway. That and true repentance for all the wrongs I've done to not live up to that said light filled human being God wants me to be. And that of course.

So, just one vow this year. Easy. I mean, I've only been working on this particular part of myself for over a decade now. Well, this one vow plus writing more. And since you're reading this, I guess I'm starting 5774 off pretty well so far!

Jewish or not, I'd love to hear what you strive for to be a better you each day. In the end, it's all we really can be.

Namaste, Shalom and Shana Tova my friends!

 

Barbra Streisand singing Avinu Malkeinu. Breathtaking!

This song encapulates the High Holidays for me.

 

Mirror Image

I've found people have been irritating me more than usual lately. Or I should say, I'm allowing myself to be bothered by others words and actions. I'm choosing to get frustrated, angry, annoyed...

This isn't exactly a new occurrence. I've always had this love/hate relationship with the human race. Ironic since my career choice was therapy. Though I've changed gears a bit in how I help others find mental clarity, health and wellness through the beauty of yoga, I still chose to work with people. I still desire to see each person I know reach their full potential, to find fulfillment, happiness, and whatever it is their life was destined for. I still feel a part of my destiny is to be a resource for those who wish to use me as one in seeking their path of light and love.

All this makes me analyze my feelings all the more when I find myself so bothered by people and wish everyone could just be a bit more like my dogs, minus the barking at anything that moves and trying to eat strangers part. So basically these past couple weeks I've been stuck in my head psychologizing myself like a good former therapist would do when faced with such a dilemma.

My conclusion came to me the other day and solidified while watching Dexter the other night. No, I'm not a sociopath with an inherent need to kill bad people, sorry, poor foreshadowing on my part. Actually, it's so simple that the fact I still have over 30k in student loans staring me in the face every month makes me a bit nauseated. So, what's the deal? What did I realize? Wait for it....
Sorry, I couldn't resist that one.

Anyway, it turns out that my love/hate relationship with the human race is a mirror image of my love/hate relationship with myself.

Bam! There it is. Profound, I know.

Seriously though, because this is a serious matter. Every time I find myself feeling less than pleased with my fellow (wo)man I can find everything that upsets me about them within myself. A lot of it is from days long ago when, at times, I behaved very differently than I do now. As such, when I realize a person lies, no matter how small, I get very irritated. Angry. Depending on the lie, it can lead me to feel loathing and see red, as some say. Perhaps even feel a bit Dexter-esque! Mostly though, it's little lies from people I may not even be all that close to that have been annoying me. Maybe it's all the lies I hear from living with an alcoholic that combine to make a "little" lie that really doesn't matter weigh on me. Mostly though, I think that it's the fact that I used to lie in such ways.

Example... one time a friend and I didn't feel like studying for an exam so we spent our time concocting this elaborate story about getting a flat tire and being stuck in Pittsburgh and not being able to make it back to school until the next day. Then we were able to take the exam in an office which enabled us to "share" our knowledge. A flat tire? Seriously?! How did a professor believe that ridiculousness? In the grand scheme of life, it's not such a big deal, not like the lies I endure almost daily. Regardless, I don't like that I used to be that person. I don't like when others remind me of that person.

I find myself getting really upset when people talk about others. Known as Lashon Hara in Judaism. I used to be that person too. "hey, check out that shirt she's wearing." "Did you hear what so and so did last night?" "Can you believe... blah, blah..." Gossip is as bad as slander which is as nasty as any evil thing a person can do to another. Not only does it send out unnecessary negative energy that we then have to work extra hard to counter with some positive vibes for the universe, it's simply mean. You can say, stick and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, in your best na-na-na-na-boo-boo voice but it's simply not true. Words are our most powerful weapons against each other because we all have access to them. They CAN hurt beyond repair. Even if the person you're talking about never knows you spoke them, you know. They are in your heart; your mind. They may even be true. Gossip often is true. But that doesn't make it right.

I can't honestly say I never engage in lashon hara anymore, but I sure do my best to not only watch my words but also my thoughts. Just because I don't comment on how ridiculous someone looks aloud these days, doesn't mean I don't think it sometimes. Along with many other thoughts and sometimes spoken comments that could have been left unsaid. Hey, I'm human! And I shop at WalMart once in awhile. Enough said.

Bottom line though, thoughts are a powerful energy. They can hurt.... and they can heal. These days I try to focus on the healing energy, because God knows, we all need to heal in some way or another. 

I get irritated when people can't see the error of their ways. When they can't admit they were wrong. Now this one is probably my most challenging work in progress. However, like I tell my husband, I tend to stick with things I know. Which means, I often am right! I don't talk just to talk. Unless I've been drinking, which is rare these days. If I discuss something, it's usually because I am at least fairly well informed on the subject. If it turns out I'm not, I can admit that. But... when it's a topic I know I'm well informed on and I'm sure I'm right, I get very frustrated when others can't see it my way. You know, the right way!

This frustration is predominately with my husband and most often surrounding parenting. Now, I'm no expert on parenting, that's for damn sure. But, I am well educated regarding human behavior and human development and when it comes to my kids, no one knows them better. I am with them 24/7/365, so when I talk to him about the importance of consistency, among other fundamental concepts that pertain to raising them, and he continues to do what I feel is sabotaging everything I work on with them each day during his hour of fun time each night, I get VERY irritated.

A lot of this boils down to not feeling like he's an equal partner in the parenting process due to his drinking. This often goes back to my nasty thoughts which puts negative energy out in our grand universe and I don't like this about myself. I don't like it about others either. Thus, people have been irritating me more lately! All the negative energy spewing out into our world. It's sad really.

What I've found is that each time someone reminds me of something I loathe about myself, my disdain for the human race begins to seep back in again. It breaks through that barrier of love I work on each day and slowly builds back up with each reminder. I start to only see the reminders; all the parts of me I can't stand. And as a result, I can't stand anyone. Even every little thing my kids do drives me crazy. Which in turn makes me a craptastic mommy during those times, which simply builds on that self hate and loathing of all people who remind me I'm being a craptastic mommy! 

Whew. That's some viscous cycle, I know! Really, I know. 

Now, have no fear. I also have the solution. Mainly because I've had to break free from this many times. The only way out is love. It's that simple. And that hard. That's sort of the epitome of the whole love/hate relationship after all. 

The difference this time is that now I know why I find myself so darn pissed at others and why my faith in humanity wax and wanes so often. I have placed yet another valuable piece to the jigsaw puzzle known as my life. It's not that I can't stand people, it's simply that I can't stand myself, or parts of who I used to be anyway. I can't control other people and what they do. But, I can control myself and how I act; who I am. I learned that long ago and made some changes. Changes I'm happy with. Which means there is always hope for humanity. There's always hope for me. And as long as I dig deep, there's always love.

The most important love is for oneself. If you don't love yourself, you can't love others. Next would be for others, family, friends... But love for those you don't feel deserve it, enemies if you will. Now that's the epitome of love. If I'm not for myself, who will be for me? If I'm not for others, what am I? And if not now, when? Yes, it all goes back to the beginning. The words that changed me.

Ultimately, it's really the guilt from my past that I hate, not me. But guilt is a whole other nasty pile of dog doo doo for another post, another time. You love those cliff hangers, huh?!

In the meantime... this song is one of my top 5 favorite of all time and it tends to remind me of this whole love solution thing. So... enjoy, and may you all find and hold on to your love.

 

Friendship

It's been awhile, huh? Sorry about that. No good reason for my temporary absence, just life. Well, life and not being sure that some of my self talk turned blog post for all to see wouldn't upset people I know and love so.... I saw it best to bite my tongue. Or pinch my fingers perhaps is a better idiom in this case? 

Either way, here I am, overwhelmed with my chatter, the ups and downs of life with an alcoholic, a toddler finding his independence and my little girl turning four tomorrow. Wow, four. but thats another post. 

This post is because I was recently reminded that this overwhelming feeling that tends to find me more often than I would prefer can be pushed to the curb for a brief respite when I get the rare opportunity to chat with friends. Or even other mommies that perhaps may sprout into friends some day. 

Thankfully, the few play dates we've had that provided such an opportunity have kept me sane this past month. On the opposite side of my sanity it also got my chatter all worked up. Realizing I need adult interaction like the dolphin needs to come up for a breath of the freash ocean air combined with the seemingly countless other moments the universe has tossed in my direction lately has made me stop and reevaluate what friendship means. Or at least contemplate it as I'm sure my definition will stand strong. 

Last week someone posed this exact question on Facebook. She wondered if her definition of friendship had become outdated and how we defined what a friend is. It was timely as I've been feeling a bit sad that both my husband and I lose more and more friends with each move we make. Combined with each year my husband continues to drink and stray away from old friendships, it feels like we have many good old friends that are now mearly acquaintances through fantasy leagues, Facebook, the occasional text and/or email. 

Friends we would have invited to our wedding 3 years ago had we not simply went to the local magistrate. Friends who would have been IN our wedding! I try to think who we would even ask now if we did finally have that long awaited celebration. It's similar to feeling like I have no one to will my children to should, God forbid,  something happen to us. Minus the whole stressful part of who will take care of the only things in my life that mean anything! So, not really the same at all, other than not knowing who I can truly call a friend anymore.

It's hard not to think of those bondsthat once   meant so much. Friends we would go out of our way to meet somewhere if we were in town or to attend a milestone birthday bash out of state. Friends we would send welcome new baby gifts to or holiday gifts for their kids. Friends we used to invite over for dinner or meet out for drinks. So many friends from our college years that became more like family than mearly friends. Too many dear friends that have simply slipped into the realm of, remember when... 

I often ask Craig, what's so and so up to these days and the response is, 

No idea, I haven't talked to them in a year. 

Wow! Has it really been that long? Didn't we just see them? 

Um, no, that was more like three years ago. 

Oh.

Some of it is kids. A lot of it is I guess. A lot of it is proximity. But to me true friendships stand the test of time and distance as well as the full time work of marriage and parenthood. I've always expected a lot from my friends. Probably because I give all of me to every relationship I value. I give all of my heart and soul to anything I value really, not just relationships. Every relationship we have requires a give and take. There's not one I can think of that will last if it's one sided. As I start to be the only one giving I have too often have to sit back and accept that I must stop giving all of me for nothing in return. Though the result is less hurt in the end, I find myself drifting further from my friendships and more towards isolation. 

Each call that goes unreturned for days, weeks, or even months reminds me of how isolated we have become. Each text that awaits a reply. Each wedding we don't get an invite to... 

My heart sinks a bit. Not because these friends don't think of me or us anymore or maybe wouldn't even call us friends but because I feel so lonely when I think back on my memories of them.

Don't get me wrong, I am truly blessed with all I have. Two healthy kids is something I cant take for granted after all I have seen in my career. Yet that doesn't take away the fact that friendships are truly an essential part of life. It's a type of love that family doesn't fill. Friendship helps to give you a sense of identity aside from mom and wife or sister, grand daughter, aunt.... 

If you have a family like mine, in many ways, friends become your family. Figuratively, emotionally maybe even spiritually. In such instances, that makes the slip from friend to an "old friend" even more intense of a loss. 

I'm partly to blame too of course. There are some friends I didn't call as much or work as hard to stay in touch with once my kids came along. I avoid meeting new friends because of the fear my husband will drink and embarrass me. I avoid meeting up with old friends because they expect him to drink and he's too embarrassed to tell them he has an addiction. It's a never ending cycle of losing old friends, avoiding making new meaning friendships and the loneliness of wondering if this is as good as it can be.

Interestingly, I never really had a group of good friends for an extended length of time. I wasn't in a "clique" in high school or a sorority or any other type of group. I rotated through various groups depending on what I was into, dance, music, drinking, drugs, the frat or athlete scene, who I was dating, which bars were currently cool, classes, where I lived, parenthood, etc. It's always been this way. My close friends would come and go and change. A couple have come and gone and returned from time to time, sometimes after many years. Some I may run into and it's like it hasn't been a decade! But after such a chance encounter we are back to them being an old friend from... I'm not sure any of these meet my definition of true friend. 

They say if you have one true friend in life than that's all you need. The thing is, my mom is the one person I talk to nearly every day. The one friend I call with exciting news, frustrations, funny things the kids say and do and confide in with both my worries and dreams for the future. Thankfully I have a young mom so God willing, I'll have her around for a long, long time. As I said, I am blessed. I know this and I am thankful. I'm thankful for her and everyone I call friend or ha e called friend, no matter how long it's been. 

I still miss what I had though. I still long for some meaningful friendships. The lifelong ones that you can count on through the passing years, who you can laugh with at the ridiculous things you did as kids, wondering how you survived it all, who you can get away with on a girls weekend once the kids are old enough to survive on their own, or with dad... I want friendships with couples that my husband and I can share parenting horror stories with, who we can vacation with so our kids can learn the true value of friendship by example. The ones who understand addiction and could care less because drinking isn't the center of having fun and they love and accept both our good and not so great qualities...

I don't think I really want much or more than others. In the end I just want to enjoy all the riches of this life. Meaningful bonds with others is the epitome of what the universe offers us. In the end, family and friendships are the only riches life offers.

Life In A Photo

I recently received an email from shutterfly for 101 free prints. I get these fairly often and it's usually the only time I order prints. Well, then and when I cash in my Pampers reward points for shutterfly print packages and books. I checked the current photo box to see where I left off and realized it had been awhile. Like, nearly 6 months awhile! Yikes. This meant I had to pick and choose a bit more than usual. I still ended up ordering 145 pictures. Not bad considering there was probably near 1000.

My little orange envelope, or more of a large one,  arrived a short time after and I sat and went through the pictures over lunch one day. Each one I flipped though brought a bigger smile to my face and I even laughed aloud a handful of times at the memory of how silly my kids are. I tend to forget those moments when the majority of time they are wild little monsters with a mission to turn my hair grey much too young. For some reason, reliving these joyful, silly and fun memories reminded me of a part of a sermon my last Rabbi gave two or three years ago.

It clearly was one that resonated with me since I'm not sure I can recall any other sermon I've ever heard. In short, he talked about how he was always videoing his kids when they were younger because he didn't want to miss anything. At some point he realized that he was missing everything because he was behind the camera rather than fully in the moment, taking part of the memory being made. Clearly the point was to live in the present, to fully soak in the memories and the time you have with your family because kids grow up much too quickly and in the blink of an eye, they are adults themselves. He encouraged us to come out from behind the camera and join in the memory.

This idea was very difficult for me to accept. I live by my camera. I have for a very long time. I was editor and chief of my senior yearbook and took many of the photos myself. I even spent countless hours in the darkroom developing them the old school way. Yes, I was truly developing film in the darkroom. Not that I can remember how to do that now! I was devastated when I lost my camera at a fraternity party one night in college that held a couple nights full of memories which I certainly can't recall now. While negatives are obsolete, I keep all the ones I have in my fire proof box. I have photo boxes full of memories, albums from my childhood, and with modern technology as it is, my iPhone is always full.

Despite uploading the pictures from my phone to shutterfly, my computer and then saving to an external hard drive, I still get anxiety about deleting them. It's as if hitting delete will somehow erase them forever. I realize this is silly. The thing is, I've been a bit obsessed with having as many memories as possible in print since I did a research paper on Alzheimer's in high school and learned it has a hereditary component. My grandma was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's in her mid-forties. Yes, her FORTIES. She was one of the youngest ever to be diagnosed with this disease, at least then she was. She passed in her fifties when I was 12 years old.

I have memories of my mom taking care of her as she wondered at night. My Pap worked nights and took care of her all day. Since my mom and I lived with them at that time, she cared for her at night. I remember her in the nursing home... a blank slate. It was like there was no life in her eyes. She had lost everything, all her memories. While I know that once the disease progresses to that point pictures won't mean a thing, I can't help but hope if I ever met such a tragic fate that my pictures would keep that light of life in me. Even if just enough to make it easier on my family to bear.

Alzheimer's is truly horrific. To me, it's almost as if your life was pointless in a way. If you can't remember your life in the end, then what do you have? Perhaps the soul departs long before the end so your energy is out there somewhere and it's okay. It's not really possible to know. But it's one of my greatest fears. That I'll forget it all. That I won't remember the birth of my kids, their snuggles as I put them to bed, their giggles.

So, yes, I still live behind my camera. My fear of forgetting keeps me there. I try to soak in the times when I don't have my camera as much as possible. I try to breathe them in and let them fill every part of me so no matter what the future brings, I won't forget them. I often find I have no memories of many things. Most of college is gone. Much of my childhood consists of sporadic moments, often the more tragic and traumatic parts I recall and the rest are a few second clips here and there. Even now, I try to think back to important moments from the recent past and I feel too much is missing. I worry I killed too many brain cells in my college years or that my head is simply predisposed to forgetting. Either way, it scares the hell out of me.

My only solution is to snap away. So that's what I do. It may annoy some that my phone is always in front of my face or that I post new photos to Facebook regularly. Heck, my two and three year old even tell me enough is enough sometimes, or I get that fake, come on Mom, smile. But when those prints come in, I remember. And I smile. Maybe it's selfish of me. But I need those moments. I need those smiles.

It breaks my heart that my grandma met such a fate. It makes me cringe at what that nasty disease does to a person's mind. It's devastating how it impacts every person who knows and loves someone with Alzheimer's. The impact lingers for generations.

I pray I never need my pictures to fill me with life someday but rather be able to fondly reminisce over them throughout the years. And of course embarrass my kids with their bath and potty pictures or some other ridiculous thing they did that their future spouse will tease them about until they are old an grey. That's what parents are for, right?!

To me, that's the beauty of photographs. And videos. As long as they exist, so does the memory. It's concrete, you can see it. That sense of sight enables you to feel it and live it again. So my life is a photo. A whole heck of a lot of them in fact! But it's also right here and right now. I simply ensure memories last a lifetime, and then some. And I'm okay with that.

I sure don't remember this.
But this memory of 4 generations together always brings a smile to my face!

This Old House

I can't count how many times I've posted a status saying something along the line of, I hate old houses, don't buy an old house, old houses are money pits....

Well, a year and a half in and the hits just keep on coming. It turns out my theory that I'm allergic to our house based on my bout of hives for a month that popped up 5 days after moving, followed by a progression of pains that became chronic and then funky nerve things happening and all sorts of allergy issues and difficulty breathing, more so than normal.... is probably true. The various water issues we continue to encounter seem never ending and many of my symptoms indicate something having to do with inflammation from allergies or toxins, like oh say, MOLD.

We've been fairly lucky with our constant calls to the home warranty people and the various leaks and breaks being covered... until now. The water in the garage that we've been trying to determine the source of is a footer drain issue, which is outside the foundation. Thus, no one will cover it. The 1st quote we got sent me straight to the coffee shop to drown my sorrows over an iced vanilla latte and oatmeal cherry white chocolate chip cookie. Sounds incredible, huh? It is, or I should say was, as I gobbled that right up. And here you were just reading about all the water issues and thinking, glad I'm not her!

Anyway, all I can think is, at the rate I'm currently working, I'd have to teach yoga for an entire year to pay for this. I can't just go and spend the money I'm making frivolously on things to make this old house somewhere I want to enter each day, or on coffee or cupcakes or yoga gear or whatever my heart desires. This is a big chunk of our savings to fix this issue at a house my husband thinks we won't be in for much more than another year. But it needs fixed. I can't live in pain and keep spending all this money on chiropractors and massages and doctors to treat my symptoms which will just keep coming back as long as the reason for the problem surrounds me day and night!

As you can see, I'm in a bit of a catch 22. Allergic to my house. Not planning to live here forever. A small fortune to remedy the water issue that SEEMS to be causing my recurring inflammation and thus pain... More of just a craptastic situation. I think my biggest concern is we fix it and alleviate the water problems but my pain remains.

I get very frustrated with myself when I stress over money things. Especially when spending the money could improve our health! But mainly because I know darn well that money is meaningless in the grand scheme of life. But man, I'm not going to lie, it sure as heck helps! Feeling comfortable and secure in the event of something unexpected like a major health issue or loss of a job is something many take for granted when they have it, while many others stress over not having that savings should something ever happen.

So, I try. I try desperately not to care what the bank account says or all the things around this old house I dream of fixing or updating. I have a roof over my head. I'm warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I have clean, running water and appliances that wash my clothes and keep my food from spoiling. That's so much more than what so many have and it's something countless people dream of. I feel like a greedy, selfish American when I start to feel this way.

What to do, what to do... as I search for my reframe or my positive as I think about this money pit of an old house we got ourselves into. Well, here goes.

One: I always loved the character of old homes. I can't stand those cookie cutter neighborhoods where every house looks the same. We were just unfortunate that the people who lived here before us didn't keep up with the maintenance an old home requires. And I was distraught over the loss of my Pap just a couple days before seeing the house so I missed a ton of things I probably should have seen. We also felt we were in a rush to find something as my husband was being relocated in just a couple months.

Lesson learned. Renting and waiting for the right home is perfectly okay!!

Two: We've come a long way! Especially in the past couple months. The yard looks pretty now rather than something I would cringe to look at. I no longer feel embarrassed when people come over. Yes, it was that bad. We pulled all the plants out after my allergy issues in case it was something planted around the house that caused it. Then, we did nothing. So, there were a couple things here and there and big mud holes.

1/2 of the front. There's even a dwarf peach tree by the kitchen window over there!!

 

Our basement is newly refinished due to a pipe break flooding it and now I'm not grossed out to walk down there! I am even working on creating my own little yoga space where I can go for some semi quiet to practice and meditate at home. Now, that's bliss!

We did a few updates to the kitchen and one bath and we finally have grown up bedroom furniture!! So exciting, I know. Seriously though, I have such difficulty sleeping and am convinced that the ambiance of your bedroom is really important in helping to facilitate a good nights sleep. I couldn't stand our room. Now, it's slowly coming together and gaining that peaceful feel I desired. The best part of this is my recent vision turned reality in just a weeks time!!

I always wanted a window seat as a kid. As I got older I still loved all those Pottery Barn pictures and HGTV projects of old homes with beautiful window seats that seemed so relaxing to just sit and read or write at. As it turns out, we have a cape cod style house and dormer windows in each bedroom. As my would have it, no window seats in any of the rooms! Enter my vision.

I didn't want to spend a lot of money and I also LOVE built in anything. Bookshelves, corner cabinets in the dining room... both of which this old house has. But mostly, those built in window seats with storage space under them. Just love them. In my hunt for a piece of furniture that would fit in our dormer I came across a picture on some website where they bought an old dresser at a thrift store and cut it, added a top and a few other things I didn't quite follow as far as construction goes but they made it sound so simple and they turned it into a window seat! PERFECT, I thought. We had a dresser in that area before buying our new furniture. I still had that dresser. And another for the extra wood we would need to fill in the frame. I told my husband my idea and he shook his head and said it wasn't possible.

Never tell a dreamer something isn't possible!! Especially when that dreamer's step dad will be in town in a few days and said step dad an build anything! I gave my mom a brief description of my idea and my step dad came with all sorts of saws and tools and his ability to see my vision.

The next day... it came to life! Best part is it's made out of our recycled dressers, just like I envisioned!

My childhood dream of a princess like window seat was all mine in just a handful of hours and $20 for the oak top we bought. Now that is definitely a perk of this old house! That's my reframe. My positive. My smile when my heart starts to race and the anxiety builds to an overflow point over the endless needs this home puts on us.

Anyway, I still plan to make a cushion to go on it. And because I put the drawers in for this pic I found paint under the handle was not dry and dripped down the nice smooth front of the top drawer. It's oil based paint and a pain to work with so eventually I'll need to fix that. But hey, in this old house.... it's ALWAYS something! At least I now have the soothing ambiance of my little cubby area where I can hide away and read or write during those precious free moments I get or during a bout of insomnia. Granted, since I love my bedroom now, I've been sleeping much better!

As always, if you look, you can always find the beauty in something. Or the joy, the hope, the smile. It takes work. For me anyway. But I keep trying, because life is too short to always be stressed and feeling blue. Often times, it's the simple things that I find bring me the most happiness. Funny how that works, huh?

A Story to Tell

This isn't my story to tell, but it's one I feel should be shared. Since I'm the one who writes and has a blog, then I will must be the one to write it. I'll get the necessary permissions to make it public, even though with a simple google search you can read archived news articles, if you know what to look for.

This story is my husband's story. It is his brother's story. It's his whole family's story, thus I guess it technically does make it mine now too. I didn't live the tragedy but I live the aftermath of it every day. My kids are directly impacted everyday because of one moment in time before they were ever even dreamed of. There are some events that occur that change a person's course in life. Once changed it has a ripple effect that spreads to every person they meet. This story is one of those events that stopped time for a split instant and set each of us on a new path. I was meant to meet Craig. And marry him. And bear his children. I've always known this. Thus, this event ultimately changed my course, without me even knowing it.

This story is one of tragedy, a story of dreams shattered, a story of too many lives irrevocably altered in an instant. It's a story you read about and your heart aches for that family. It's a story you pray to God never comes to haunt your life. It's a story you warn your kids about when they start driving. It's a story that keeps parents up at night until they hear that car pull safely into the driveway after prom, a night out with friends, or a party after winning a big wrestling match.

My husband's car carrying him and his best friend, his brother Mike, never pulled in after that party.

Instead, his parents got the worst wake up call a parent could get, as they thought their boys were sleeping over where the party was. My husband had been drinking and did go to sleep but when he woke up a little before 2am he got his brother to go home. His brother offered to drive but he only had his junior license so Craig said no. Though his BAC wasn't excessively high, it was over the legal limit of that time. Granted, any amount in an 18 year old is illegal. After spending all week making weight and wrestling earlier that evening his body was physically exhausted, as any wrestler can attest to. The drinking certainly didn't help. My husband dozed off about a mile from home on a long winding road with a speed limit I feel is still too high for such a road. In that instant his eyes closed he swerved off the road and hit a tree. And then some more trees. Neither he nor his brother were wearing their seat belts.

When Craig came to he saw his brother. He thought he was dead. He wasn't. But he suffered permanent brain damage which has left him confined to a wheelchair since that fateful February day 16 years ago. Mike was in a coma for some time and then underwent treatment and extensive rehab to relearn everything. he needed to retrain his brain to talk, eat, drink, move his body and walk again. Though his brain still doesn't tell him to walk or use his left hand he can take some steps with support and he's come a long way over the years. When I met him a few years after the accident he still had to get fluids through a tube because his brain didn't tell him he needed to drink and he still didn't say all that much.

Now, he does volunteer work at Good Sheppard, where he spent a great deal of time rehabbing, he has worked at a local gym and remains the funny, good natured guy that everyone in their small town knows and has always loved. I can see a part of who he was in the man he's become, despite needing almost constant care, provided by his mother. While he remembers everything up until the accident, his short term memory remains remarkably impacted from his injury. Along with a number of other body movements and functioning.

Why do I feel this story needs told? Because I believe everything happens for a reason, even the tragedies of our lives. I've written this time and time again if you're a regular here. I tell my husband this because he can not see how anything good possibly came from "killing his brother". Which is what he told me he did when I met him 3 years after the accident. Imagine my surprise when I went home with him for the first time and met Mike! To my husband though, his best friend died in that accident. To my husband, he took his brothers future, his hopes and dreams, any chance at the kind of life everyone envisions having. Marriage, kids, maybe a state wrestling title, as his brother was quite talented. He can't get past what could have been and focus on what is and all that Mike has accomplished. He graduated high school. He's a volunteer. He works. He even has a prestigious award named after him at his high school!

He doesn't have the life everyone dreamed of during his first 15 years of his life, but he is alive. He blesses everyone he knows with that each and every day. That blessing also rips my husbands heart out each time we visit.

I can't say how I would live with such guilt. All I know is there must be a reason. And there must be good to come of this. Craig was sentenced to tell his story to local schools rather than being sentenced to prison. While I think this was more beneficial to his family, than to deal with one son in a coma, one in prison and a younger one essentially left to grow up much too quickly, these talks started too soon after the accident. Their only impact for my husband was to repeatedly retraumatize an already distraught 18 year old whose life just changed forever.

But... if even one kid in one of those rooms stopped before getting behind the wheel because they remembered his story.... Maybe that saved one kid and that kid's parent's the pain and heartache Craig's family has had to endure. Maybe OUR kids will think of their uncle mike and remember to put their seat belt on every. single. time. they get in the car. And God willing, maybe they will NEVER take a sip of alcohol and get behind the wheel, or get in the car with someone who is under the influence.

If my husband's daily, lifelong guilt and pain can save our children from the same fate, that has to mean something, right? Maybe me meeting Craig and having this blog, giving me the opportunity to share this story can prevent you or your child from the same fate. But still, I feel there must be more than that. Granted, saving one life would be enough, I don't think my husband is capable of seeing it that way. Even with all his responsibilities as a father and husband, I have no doubt he would trade his life without a second thought if it meant giving his brother back the life he feels he took.

So what's more? What else good can there be? I've said it before but I truly don't think our children would exist had this accident not changed my husband's course. Yes, he was accepted to Penn State at the time of the accident but he still had an Ivy League option to consider and some scholarships as possibilities at smaller schools. He ultimately chose Penn State for the cost and to remain close(ish) to home during his brother's recovery. Had he not made that decision, it's doubtful we would have met, but hey, anything's possible I guess. And while I imagine I would have children, they wouldn't be these children had we not met. To me, THAT makes a world of difference. That's the good in all this for me. Our kids bring joy to my mother in law, whose life was altered just as dramatically as my husband's after that day. She deserves the joy my two monsters being her. That's the good.

Who's to say Craig wouldn't be even worse off with his drinking if he hadn't met me and become a father? One day we will be responsible for taking care of his brother and if his alcoholism got completely out of control, as in he couldn't hold a job, pay bills or otherwise function other than to drink, he would not be able to take on that responsibility. While that is a moot point had the accident never happened, it doesn't mean he wouldn't have become an alcoholic anyway and potentially destroyed his own future in some way.

Everything, absolutely everything happens for a reason. I read about parents starting these remarkable foundations to honor their children who were taken too early. Whether by illness, accident or crazy people shooting up a school. People everyday deal with tragedy. To me, it's not about getting through it and surviving, it's how you choose to live despite it. To me, focusing on whatever good can come from the most horrific thing life hands you is the only way to honor those we love and this one life we've been given.

Now, I certainly can't stop a drunk driver from crashing into my own car.  Many things in life, such as that, are simply out of our control.

I also can't make my husband see things the way I do and to find the good and focus on it. I can't make you wear your seat belt. I can't make everyone I meet talk to their kids about not drinking and driving. I can't make anyone not get in a car with someone under the influence. But those things ARE in our control. Each and every one of us can make these choices. Like me choosing to share this story with all of you. With the hope that you remember it someday when it matters most.

This isn't some mock crash you watch before prom in your high school parking lot.
This isn't a story you read about a stranger far away and think, oh how sad, then just forget and go out drinking that weekend without a designated driver or a plan for how to safely get home. If you read this blog then in some ways, you know me. You have read how this one decision to drive home after a night out drinking can change absolutely. everything. Any one decision can alter not only your course in life but the lives of people you've never even met yet. A snap decision to drive after drinking, or get in the car with someone who has been drinking, or doing drugs, can in essence change the entire world with it's ripple effects. And THAT, we all have the ability to control.

I pray that this reality never becomes a story that any of you need to tell.

Leaving our annual Phillies game to celebrate Mike's birthday.

Celebrate Earth Everyday

Happy (belated) Earth Day!

To be honest, I think this day is silly. If everyday is not Earth Day then we've really lost touch with reality. I mean, without this place, we are sort of up the proverbial crick, ya know? Yes, I said crick. Creek just doesn't sound right to my Pittsburgh born and raised ears. I guess you can take a girl out of the Burgh but you can't take all the Pittburghese outta the girl!

Yes, I digressed.

Back to my point. Right... this obsessed with not being wasteful momma thinks Earth Day is silly. I know, oxymoron. I find it silly in the same way I find Valentine's Day to be silly. Of course it's wonderful to have a day where we are reminded to say "I love you" but if we aren't saying that to those we love each day, well, we are really missing the bigger picture here. Not to mention all the consumer waste that comes from that day. Maybe that's just me.

At least Earth Day has practical applications. It's an opportunity many wouldn't otherwise take to teach their kids or students about recycling and all the cool crafts you can make without spending unnecessary money or creating extra waste. It's a great day to plant your garden. We did the Sunday before. Maybe do a math experiment with water, showing your kids how much they (or you) waste of this invaluable natural resource when it's left running to brush their teeth. It's a great day to go to the zoo and see all the magnificent animals that bless this planet of ours and how they all contribute to the circle of life. The opportunities are endless but here's a list from a wonderful, inspirational and tear jerker of a post I read on Earth Day by Kissing the Frog.

In case you didn't realize, Earth Day is not today! It was Monday. But I'm just getting my mommy free time now. Which I'm spending writing this on my phone, as I sit at the mall Starbucks waiting for the stores to open. As if the i Pad wasn't annoying enough for typing up a post. All I need is my Clinique foundation. It's the only make up I wear and my acne is out if control so this is do or die for me. Yes, another digression. Perhaps I better drink this chai quicker and get my head on for the day!

Okay, back to my story that made me decide to write about Earth Day. It involves Starbucks. Now, I typically would never have anything negative to say about this place. Not just because they help keep me sane and awake but because it was the best company I ever worked for. However, I had an experience on Sunday that I must share. Mainly because was so ridiculous to me that it takes me back to my, "effin West Virgina" post and how I shake my head almost daily at the fact this PA girl now lives in the one state we all grow up making fun of! But also because it's a prime example of how people don't pay attention to how they can help our planet daily rather than crate unnecessary waste and harm.

So, I ran into the new Starbucks at target last Sunday. They had these awesome reusable cups for only a buck! A BUCK! Hot or cold reusable cups. Amazing. One can never have enough reusable coffee cups so I grabbed one, thinking, hey tomorrow is Earth Day so at least I did my one good deed for Mother Earth in case I forget. Not likely, but you never know. I order my iced soy chai, light ice. And THEN I watch the barista take a plastic cup and mark my order on it, set it down for the other barista to make and then set my new reusable cup next to it for them to use. She makes my drink and then tosses the unused plastic cup in the TRASH. The same cup that I spent an extra dollar to avoid doing just that when finished. No one thought twice. No one looked like that was the silliest thing ever. Well, maybe not EVER, but close. I left with my jaw a bit dropped unable to speak because I really couldn't believe that just happened.

In all fairness to my beloved Starbucks, a Target store Starbucks isn't a "real" Starbucks AND in all fairness to my current state, there are people everywhere that don't stop and think before they act. Like how I avoided saying stupid people? I wanted to but hey, everyone does stupid things from time to time. I sure do. Daily. So, I'm trying to give them the benefit of the doubt and think it was just a momentary lapse in using their brain cells to their full potential. Yet, two people were involved so it makes me question that theory. Either way. Another shake my head moment to chalk up for the books. Or blog inthis case.

Anyway, that's my story. A very long version of a silly little story about how we as humans continue to waste and not think twice a out how it is impacting this miraculous planet of ours. This may seem insignificant to many but if everyone does this each day, imagine the unnecessary waste! Compare that to every one who enters a Starbucks and grabs one of these $1 reusable cups.

 

We really can make a big difference doing the little things. Every. Day.