The Power of Doing Nothing

Doing nothing can be one of the hardest things to accomplish. Imagine having your hands tied as your son wants to quit a team,  or your daughter is having trouble with a friend. A few weeks back my father relayed my sister's feelings about a particular discussion she had had with me.  These feelings were not what she had aired to me. I sensed my sister's hesitation when I announced a scheme I had for getting my family together, but when my dad mentioned she was not happy and not on board with my idea I thought, "why didn't she tell me?" and then I thought,  "I must rectify this immediately!!",  my first instinct to run and make it all better.  But then something happened,...... I     paused..... Something I rarely do. Do  I really need to address this?  Is it possible that life could go on without me scurrying to work it all out?  I am just letting it sit for awhile and see what happens. Its very freeing.

My good friend, over lunch, was asking me for advice about how to handle an issue she felt she was having with a friend. She wondered if she could be honest or should she just let it go. We have all been there in our friendships wondering how to get over hurts or disagreements.  My need has always been to resolve things because I don't like messy; I have always felt uncomfortable if all my relationships were not in a positive place. Imagine trying to balance all my relationships and expecting none of them to ever change or be challenged.  I like organized,  but really its always been me wanting everyone to be happy with me.

What I am trying out is asking myself the question: Do I have to react to this situation as its happening? Obviously we must sometimes, like when a pie is coming at someones face, or a murderer is trying to get in, but there are situations that can work out for themselves. How about if my friend lets the friendship sit for awhile without worrying about its destination?  AND, how did I become so wise?

My new goal is the look at the relationships in my life individually and handle things as needed.  No more frantically running around worrying if everyone is happy. Oh my gosh it has been my story my whole life - same scenarios playing over and over.  I can resist the urge to make it all better. Sometimes a friendship or relationship can be forced into a place where it isn't comfortable anymore.  Sometimes the right thing to do is nothing.  Letting things go a little bit is a path less traveled for me and it almost feels decadent after a lifetime of thinking I had some control over everyone in my life.

With my children, my role really is as guide; loving, supportive guide. I can not force my child to stay with something if he or she chooses against it, I can not judge my child for his or her decisions because it is what I would have done, or even worse, a mistake I made. God forbid they make a mistake.  So I am working on nothing. Nothing works.

I like to think of myself as a laid back guy who sits around with pizza boxes all over his apartment. Just kidding.  I try to think of myself as a calm, assured, loving force who has faith that everything is going to be alright. (visualization)  I also notice that I can apply this new found principle every day in many ways.  My daughter was a little fresh to me the other day - and for once I am waiting for the right moment to talk to her.  I also have some brilliant advice for my son - also waiting till the right moment. Somehow we will all survive.

This is not what I mean by doing nothing!!!

Somewhere in between.... xo

After The Goethal's Bridge

I've been informed by my husband that the bridge in question (the one I had my first panic attack - see older blog "I'm Just Saying") was actually the Outer Bridge Crossing. I must have blocked it out.  After driving over the bridge I experienced a panic attack.  From there I began to feel panicky. It is a cycle that is difficult to break - feeling worried about potentially feeling anxiety causes more and more anxiety.  I am nothing if not a solution seeker and so I felt compelled to seek the help of a therapist. This therapist who I saw only twice, changed my life.

He did two, actually three, wonderful things for me:

1) He told me to try an anti-depressant.  This wise psychologist wasn't the first person to suggest an anti-depressant for my PMS. I had a prescription in my wallet, but he was the one who convinced me that it would help me. I finally reached the point where I believed it. We all know the stigma attached to it and I know many women would not consider it as an option, but for me I was ready to try.

2) He taught me to visualize and breathe deeply INTO the fear. Ahh what a relief. There is nothing to fear but fear itself (so I've heard) and that is how I approached it. As my heart beat too quickly I breathed in and out and visualized breathing in soft blue and breathing out yukky gray. I remembered the fears I had as a young girl and realized that as adults we are afraid of fear. I knew I would not die from anxiety - that it is a reaction your body produces. That was helpful to me.

3) He told me to say 'no' once in awhile. Mmmm, could it be connected in any way?- my desire to please everyone around me when inside I am screaming? He planted the seed on that one - still in progress.

I realized that my PMS was not completely hormone related. I had to accept that my life issues (at this crucial juncture I was moving to the West Coast) were exacerbated by my hormonal issues.  My inability to cope with the anxiety of my approaching move, trying to tie all my loose ends in life, reassuring close friends, calming the fears of my children, leaving my family, were finally bubbling up into a place that I could not contain. That is why I consider anxiety a gift. It lets you know in no uncertain terms that you are done. Take a look! Look whats going on here! You are stressed!!! There is no way around it.

That was a turning point for me. I was very fragile. Looking over a railing in the mall caused my heart to beat quickly. Driving, once a common practice, now was a battle between being hyper-aware that I was driving and breathing deeply. Not fun I tell you, but from there I started to pay a little more closer attention to my life.

The medicine put me into a better place. I played with dosages, took it different times during the month (with the help of a doctor!) and moved on with my life. I felt better able to cope. I didn't feel particularly different, just more like I thought a normal person should feel. That was my first step toward dealing with my monthly highs and lows. The story continues.
p.s. this is a picture of me and Meg around that time. Just liked it.

Balance - Aging

I was thinking the other day about all the ways I have not grown up. I want to see Footloose (the new, hot one). My last meal on earth would include oreos because every time I eat one I still think, "yum", I mean every time. I still eat them by licking off the cream and dunking them in milk. I have a huge crush on Keith Urban and share this crush with one of my 15 year old students;  (relatable or immature? hmmmm)   I know all words to Taylor Swift songs (saw her in concert) I like to make fun of people with my kids. I love barrettes. I love makeup.

Okay, maybe this just makes me a girl. I don't know. But as a grown up lady I know I have matured.  I feel like I take more time for everything; I drive slower, I look around more, I take pictures of trees as the leaves fall. Ironically, being older, I feel like I have more time. I am more cautious, I am more patient. I feel like I've been there before and I can predict an outcome, probably because I have. I guess they call that experience.  I couldn't be happier. Being my age - late 40's if you must know, is so much better than I ever would have thought. I literally do not care how I appear to others as I used to.  I still care very much about my appearance, just not my behavior.

I took a Latin Dance exercise class over the summer and as I focused on the beautiful, sexy, tiny teacher sensuously moving her body, I tried to match her. I truly felt like I was dancing in the same rhythmic Latin way that our young teacher was, until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. HORRIFIED. Frankenstein with no hip motion (because we all know Frankenstein can move), but my moment of realization came when instead of cowering or leaving (someone did) I just chose to ignore Frank and chose young, pretty Latin girl. That is how I felt, and I was going to be her.  Who cares what I look like? I truly did not, although I had a smile on my face because I knew how I looked. So funny.

Have I become one of those crazy middle aged women who wears hats and dances with her girlfriends? Someone who wears her glasses around her neck or worse always loses them and holds the menu an arms length away? YES to all of it. It is true. Not all of it literally okay, but you get the idea.  As much as I enjoy my relaxed outlook on life, I still struggle with it. Of course there is a struggle, because with every shift, there is a counter shift in the balance. So I may not care as much about what others think, I may make more thought out decisions, maybe be even a little more rational, but every time a young person (you are getting the idea) compares me to his/her mom, I cringe. Every time an older woman uses the pronoun "we" when talking to me ("we can still wear that length) it startles me. I look in the mirror at that point, because inevitably I am in a dressing room when this happens, and I realize, "people know how old I am" I am not  28 or 34 or even 40. I am the older woman who can still wear that length or those jeans. Still trying. Painful.

Even when you say you feel young on the inside, that means you're old. You are. That's okay. I feel so much better on the inside and for that I feel lucky.  Youth is wasted on the young anyway.

That's Keith

that's heaven

Balance - Relationships

Relationships are hard. They require honesty, not only with the other person, but with oneself.  My struggle for balance is ongoing in my relationships as I strive to get to know myself. Case in point, my mother.  I could stop right there couldn't I? There, I said it, my mother.  The person who gave me life, taught me to love, fed me, clothed me and called me beautiful.  I know every daughter who is is lucky enough to grow up with a mom has a complicated history. I say lucky, not with a wink, because even though I have mommy issues, I had a mother, and I will always be grateful for that.

Okay, mommy issues. I am stalling aren't I? Well, its been some years since I have seen my mother in the flesh (11) and many months since I have spoken to my mother.  She is not an evil person, quite the opposite, but I have been at a stand still as to how to continue our relationship.

I have been the "good girl" my entire life; living with the satisfaction of knowing I am good, I did good. Check list of non-slutty behavior in college, there for my friends, obedient daughter, always a smile. What I noticed in my life was a pattern; I was the ever present friend, enthusiastic, helpful, compromising, encouraging, until one day I would lose my mind and have a blow out fight or some other dramatic occurrence, and then I would be DONE. By the time this happened, I was so relieved not to play my role of good friend, that I had no regrets. I would move on feeling free.  I would blame them. "look what they did to me, they didn't appreciate me, they took advantage of me." That may all have been true, but if it was, then it was completely my fault.

Point here: I allowed myself to be lost in these friendships; giving all I had and expecting what? reciprocation? No one could ever give me as much as I needed and they did not ask for it. It was pressure I put upon myself to by good for everyone until I couldn't do it anymore and that poor friend didn't know what hit them.   My older, more self knowing self is more aware of my propensity for this giving too much/wanting too much and so I am learning how to balance my relationships. How do I do this? (This may be the easiest thing for so many people, but for me still new),  I am honest.

I give because it makes me feel right, but temper it when it feels like too much. I put myself on my list of friends. I need a lot of attention, so I give it to myself.  I have really wonderful friends and thank God they love me, but they know that sometimes I am not "on" and they accept it. That's real and honest.

My biggest relationship is with my mother and I have not figured out how to be honest, so I have run away; not stalked away, not stomped away, but scurried away like a scared little rabbit. Mommys are harder. As a daughter I need to be loved, appreciated and understood, as a daughter I also need to be understanding, supportive and forgiving. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. That's kind of hard for me.  That's really hard for me. Still a good girl, but a wounded girl. In this unique relationship with my mom, I have given my heart and soul to be good, but I compromised myself.  I began to crumble under the weight of my need to be understanding, listening, helping a person who is never going to be full on her own.

So I sit in my rabbit hole enjoying my rabbit family and my little animal friends, but my mother and my future relationship with her waits in the big house (okay, this metaphor stuff in getting too much). What I am saying is my life is going on rather well, but missing completeness that I believe I will feel when I can be real. I feel it is close. I feel it is far away. I feel it is hard, but so simple.  Call.

Fall Is Here

Fall is an interesting time.  It is subtle, still warm, still humid, yet a barely discernible difference occurs bit by bit until you look outside and see Summer has ended.  We are now into October and there is no denying it now. Kids have that tired look, go to bed without prompting, and I think I have picked my last tomato (not that I had a great crop anyway). I realize that there are certain adjustments we make to help the transition.  I need to wear socks now; no more prancing around in my bare feet.  Sweaters when I leave the house.  An extra blanket on the bed - no more fan (even though the sound is so soothing).  I notice now a beautiful day is cherished because we all know they are fleeting.  I have always had a romantic approach to Fall; pumpkins scones, warm soup, cider, MUMS. Then scare crows, straw, ORANGE,  boots.  These adjustments make me more accepting of the changes occurring.  Okay, if we have to give up Summer and its sultry nights, night swimming, wine drinking (on the porch), watering flowers in flip flops, and unstructured days, then at least I can look forward to wearing a cool scarf and a short jacket out at night.  Okay, so what does that say about me? Am I that superficial? Yes, I am.  I know that I can convince myself to accept an undesirable change if I can either buy things or accessorize.

That is a part of my personality that I like to kindly refer to as acceptance, but is really denial.  I am not thinking "Fall is here, Summer is over, Winter is coming." I am thinking "Fall is here (ooh I can decorate my house with my cute Fall stuff, Summer is over (it was so hot!), and Winter is coming (yay snow!)  I accept this denial, even though it bites me in the ass every January, because it brings me contentment. It allows me to embrace the moment and postpone the inevatible. That's okay.

I think that is important - welcome change, move on, and shop. All good things.

Good bye pool, hello Uggs.

Know When to Say When

On Tuesday I have an appointment with a surgeon.  In order to prepare for this appointment I have had an MRI of my pelvis, ultrasounds (same area), blood work, gynecological exam, conversations, referrals and a lot of pondering.

I am considering a hysterectomy.

An ultimate search for balance? The story here is a long one that began at puberty. Medically speaking you can say I have suffered from endomitriosis my whole adult life.  It is an invasive condition, causing infertility and discomfort, as well as inconvenience. It is possible for some women to experience little or no symptoms, but in my case I have been acutely aware of it.  Without going into gory details that are not necessary, let's just say I have had enough.

The question here, aside from medical necessity, (to be determined by surgeon) is whether I feel worthy to make this leap.  Have I suffered enough? Do I deserve to be free of these womanly organs that have allowed me to produce two monumentally fabulous human beings?

It is a decision I have to make based solely on my own personal experience and I need to decide whether I have really had enough.  My gynecologist tells me menopause is right around the corner (which is a comfort?) With menopause comes the end of estrogen which fuels endomitriosis.  This should mean that my symptoms disappear.  To me that doesn't seem like a clean conclusion. It feels like a slow painful death after a life time of suffering (that is metaphorically speaking of course).  My idea is to make a clean break - get rid of all of it - hormones, organs, bleeding, swelling, soreness.  I may not even publish this. Is it too gross?

It just brings up many feelings that have to do with worthiness; that have to do with strength, perseverance, and self love.  Nobody knows my journey because it is mine. Nobody should make this decision, because it is mine. That's scary. Would it be easier if a doctor told me "you need to do this"? I would say yes and no. In the past I have been told to have a hysterectomy. I have scheduled the procedure on two separate occasions only to reconsider. The decision, I realized, is ultimately mine. I chose not to have a hysterectomy and have sought out other paths to balance (which I have discussed and will more in the future!)  I  listened to my heart which was filled with dread and fear when faced with actually proceeding with the surgery.  It feels different this time, more settled, still intensely scary, but maybe time.

So now the discussion will be about me (yes me - all about me), a less invasive approach (an option not offered to me in the past) and whether it is the right choice for me. Now.  So I will let you know what I decide. Will I decide?

I want to stay home

I have a friend who pushes me out of my comfort zone.  She is really interesting to watch because her comfort zone seems to be ever changing - maybe never really feeling comfortable at all is her zone. I am not one of those people. I strive for home, rest, food. My first instinct is to snuggle, not mingle.

I have a husband who is more social than I am. I am not saying I am antisocial, quite the opposite, what I am saying is many times I don't feel like being social. My husband likes sharing an evening with other people, chatting, throwing around ideas.  I am trying to figure out why I am continually searching for quiet.  Is it my own mind that feels chaotic?  Am I struggling to be peaceful by shutting out the world?  Something to ponder.

As a child I went through a period where I had no friends to call my own. It was a few months between friends, maybe a blip on the screen in a lifetime of friendships. However this time in my life affected me deeply.  I remember wanting it to rain. When it is raining, no one goes out, and no one gets together (I thought) and so staying home is something I would be doing anyway.  This way I could justify staying home with nothing to do. That feeling has never left me.  I associate comfort with rain.

What I have learned from my friend is that doing something new and unexpected has many benefits.  It exhilarates you.  Wow, going to a concert after a blizzard is really fun!  We wore cozy sweatpants and boots and braved the cold, white world.  I was rewarded. Recently, my sister was visiting and we arranged to meet in NYC for dinner.  It was raining steadily all day.  I texted her, trying to entice her to come to my cozy home.  No way!  she said, I love the rain and I need a cannoli! Okay then. Off we go. So instead of feeling secure in my home, we braved the rain and enjoyed an evening surrounded by lights, people, wine and great food (can you tell I am talking about Little Italy?)  We walked with our umbrellas, then even gave them up and just enjoyed the rain.

Last night on a Sunday (!!!) we went to friends and spent a lovely evening.  I enjoyed easy conversation and did not think of the time.  It is a learning experience for me to break out of my old habits.  I think my desire for comfort and rest is really a defensive technique that I devised years ago that just isn't relevant anymore. I am secure, I have friends, and thank God have all I need at home. I just do not have to run to it all the time. I have to remember that is is waiting for me to return  - from living.

I'm Just Saying

When I was a young woman I was so much less of a complete person than I am today. That is the way it should be of course, though I always wish I could go back and help this girl.

Is this normal? Screaming at my mother and crying uncontrollably? yelling at my boss at work and getting suspended? hating everything about myself and trying on a thousand different outfits and still not feeling right. Feeling sad and not knowing why.  That was me as a teenager.  Is this normal? only feeling all right two weeks out of every month? That was me in college.  How about this? feeling so stressed out that I had to go in my room and breathe deeply so I wouldn't feel like I was losing my mind? screaming at my little children for nothing.  That was me in my thirties.

All of this is my life long struggle with PMS.  Literally I could separate my moods into pre-menstrual, menstrual and post menstrual and pin point exactly when I would feel normal. Premenstrual - insecure, ugly, fat, moody, emotional, hateful and miserable.  Menstrual - bloated, headachy, crampy with a subtle elevation in mood.  Post menstrual - happy, me, the Karen everyone seemed to know and enjoy.  I found out when I was 20 that this existence is not normal. I explained my cycle of moods to my two friends and when I was finished, they looked at me like I was crazy. What? that's not normal?

The pill - I was on it for five years.  I felt different - calmer, but different. When I went off the pill, I felt more like myself.  I did not connect this to PMS.  I felt crazy again, but more like me.  After going off the pill, I could never find a birth control pill that felt even remotely okay again.

Herbs, vitamins, supplements - tried them all - the only one I liked was St. John's Wort but that completely killed my sex drive. Crazy = sexy? Chose crazy not zombie.

Diet - Guess what? sugar makes you crazy. Definitely contributes to mood swings. NO MORE SUGAR.  I went 4 glorious months with absolutely no sugar (boy did I have a flat tummy) but on Halloween I ate a Three Musketeer bar and BAM - back on sugar. I know, its not cocaine but felt kind of like it.  Just not sustainable for me. Wanted it to work. Really did.

Exercise - I love exercise and I do it regularly and have for over 15 years. Does not eradicate PMS. I'm just saying.

Psychologist - Okay, did try that for the first time at age 38, and that my friends was the first tiny step towards my extremely long and unfinished journey to sanity.

The people in my life who know me and love me would not express surprise to read of my struggle. But there may be many people who know me who would.  I seem to be together, even confident, and I guess I am. The secret is that my PMS self is carefully hidden, alone and secluded; only coming out to those who live with me or who dare to enter my cave during that time. Those who have entered usually choose to not enter again till Spring or (post-menstrual).

My mother told me panic attacks and anxiety are gifts - they let you know that something is really bothering you.  I had my first panic attack after driving over the Goethals Bridge to Long Island, NY. (its a really narrow bridge by the way - just saying)   I felt like I had no feet, that I could drive off the road, sweaty palms, beating heart, the whole thing.  It was terrifying and I felt like I limped to my destination, which was to visit my sister.  And do you know what I learned? the fear of a panic attack is worse than having a panic attack. So that is what propelled me to seek some help.

This story continues..

That's the narrow bridge I drove over

Search for Balance - Work

I wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember and it took a little longer to get there, but that was almost 17 years ago.  When I became a mother I felt that I had finally arrived; that I had found what I am supposed to be doing.  The joy I received from this round, fat baby everyday was what I was waiting for.  Yet I still wasn't balanced. I mean who is at that time in their lives? My life was about this baby. Getting him out the door to do anything was a feat, keeping him occupied during long afternoons was my new job.  I was alone a lot due to my husband's job and I felt kind of lonely. Through those years I searched for something that would make me feel fulfilled - and balanced.  I tried selling toys (like Avon, but toys) which involved scheduling "parties", hauling toys, filling out paperwork, trying to get busy women to host their own parties - none of it was fun for me except the actual time I spent with the moms. (one time I forgot to clean the toys and after a party the next group of kids suspiciously all caught the same nasty stomach virus. oops.)  That lasted a year and I ended up with a lot of toys for my own little boy.

I tried teaching gymnastics (no experience) at our local gym.  By now I had two kids who I dragged with me. That worked for a while until my son refused to go. He still had to come, but not fun.  Now this is me looking for balance  - not making a hefty pay check. Wasn't worth it.

I was obviously looking for something - that elusive balance - but what does that mean?  Something that fulfilled me personally, allowed me to be a mom, but also be me. Being a mother is the most fulfilling role I will ever have, but it also is strongly dedicated to service, (as in me serving every body).  I did not yet have the knowledge that nourishing me nourishes every one else too (talk about that later on) So I struggled, feeling stressed and anxious; never done with work but not having anything to call me own.  I always read in self help books that your dream job or life's work should be something that when you are working on it, you lose track of time.  Watching Oprah totally did that for me - not an option; reading, painting a room, eating cake, taking a shower.  There was nothing I had ever done that filled me with deep satisfaction and a blissful loss of time awareness.

On top of all this, there is the element of fear.  Trying something new is scary.  Although I was certified to teach elementary school, I had my son before I got a job as an actual teacher.  I was qualified with no experience and as the time went by became less confident in my ability to teach or even survive a class room. Also, was I going to leave my kids home and teach? Not doing it.

There was a period in my life where decorating, rearranging rooms, painting,  and refinishing furniture satisfied me.  It is true transforming a room gives me a sense of accomplishment and contentment, but as a career it was not my answer. I do not think that my gifts are in creating spaces for other people, however much I enjoy it for myself.

My life became busy. We moved 3 times in 6 years - one of those moves taking us across the country to the West Coast. There is nothing like a life change to throw you off balance.

And so I searched....

Beautiful California

                                                         

Finding a Place of Peace

my daughter is 13 today. My beautiful, confident child who has given me joy every day of her life.  It took me two years to conceive this child, and it was quite a journey.

My son Ryan was born in 1994 after 2 miscarriages, surgery and a 5 month dose of an estrogen suppressant drug called Depo Lupron.  I finally conceived my son and 9 months after his birth was ready to start on the next one.  I had been told that "pregnancy is the cure for endomitriosis" so I thought my days of  infertility were over. After a routine check up at my gynecologist it was discovered that I had a grapefruit sized endomitrioma in my left ovary.  Uh oh, another Laporascopy, which is a procedure that uses a tiny camera inserted into the belly button and smaller instruments inserted into the abdomen to laser endomitriosis adhesions and remove cysts.  Very disappointing news, but since I had success the first time around, I was optimistic.

I had the procedure and proceeded to "try" but did not conceive.  The cyst returned. During the course of this two year period I had 4 laporoscopies, each time removing a cyst that would show up again during the ultrasound. Each month I took follicle stimulating hormones to stimulate egg production and as we looked on the ultrasound for signs of ovulation, a glaring cyst would stare at us from the ultrasound.   Looking back, I am baffled at how we could proceed with the conception process with this awful reoccurring cyst.  My husband patiently underwent whatever was required of him and I persevered.

I began to resent how easy it appeared for all my friends to conceive, and some actually complain about it.  I imagined my son, lonely, swinging on a swing.  I counted each month as another month between the ages of my first and second child.  It seemed the biggest thing I wanted was denied me.  I remember my friend's new born daughter was in grave danger of dying and I was thinking, I, too have suffered,  crazy as that seems.  Praying was fruitless.  Everyone (who knew my exact menstruation due date) told me to RELAX.  Of course!!! Why don't I try that?

My husband dutifully injected me monthly with hormones (big needles) and I had blood work (thank God I have big veins), went for ultrasounds, got inseminated and hoped and prayed for a baby.  It was around Thanksgiving and my brother and his fiance were visiting.  My husband and I took them to NYC  to pick out their engagement ring.  I could barely summon up any good feelings about their bright shiny future.  I was really struggling. It seemed like everyone was so care free.  Honestly, I was sick of myself.

Finally, finally, finally I reached a point where I changed my prayers to requests for peace; not be pregnant, not have a baby, not for a sign, but to feel inner peace with my life.  I thanked God for my beautiful son and all I was blessed with, and I decided to just let it all go. If my son was to be an only child, then so be it. We'll be okay. We can adopt or not.

About two weeks later I was walking through a grocery store throwing a pregnancy test in and out of the cart as I paced back and forth.  Am I nuts? I bought 3 tests.  I took one first thing in the morning - positive. But, I had walked away and maybe the test sat too long? Sometimes it can just turn positive if it sits long enough.  I took another later - negative. I knew it. (I had called my husband and told him  - no more waiting breathlessly to tell him "the news")  Finally I took one more test.  The little blue line was so faint that I couldn't tell.  I called the 800 number on the box and the nice lady on the phone told me, "Honey, if there's a line - you are pregnant."  So I was.

I had several ultrasounds as it progressed (one perk of infertility) and later found out she was a girl. I was so blissfully relieved to have a baby growing inside of me that I was happy either way. So did I just relax? yes.  I finally just, as my friend would put it, "dropped the banana" just let it fall off of my own shoulders and gave it up. How freeing! I realized that I can not will something to happen. The beautiful part was it finally felt easy.  I felt like Dorothy who could have gone home all along. But she did not  know it and neither did I.  I had to reach that point on my own.  I received the peace I did not know I even needed and happily I got both.

I hear her walking in right now. Thank God.

My First Blog

Inside I am screaming "My first blog!!!" but I know I have to start slowly so I decided to address my daily path to balance  ... my porch. This is the porch I have been dreaming of my whole life. I spend my mornings here, reading, writing, thinking and drinking hot coffee. Always hot, even in the summer.  I spend my evenings on this porch, usually with my husband, talking, watching the rain and having a glass of wine.  This porch brings me so much pleasure, its hard to describe. I feel very settled here. I sit with my feet up on a chair with my journal and pen, my computer, my phone and sometimes other reading material or lessons I need to plan. I've become quite spoiled by having this refuge and I feel a little decadent to devote this time to myself, but that is the point - to spend time with myself.  My mantra these days is "What do I want?" It is such a powerful question and it has taken me years to even consider this question or know I could even ask it. It brings me back to my core - my gut - my soul - the place where I am forced to listen and feel what is right for me. So a good day for me is the spend time here and allow myself to answer the question.

This is my view from the porch in Spring.  As I look out and (no one can see me - isn't that the best! no "oh hello!!! good morning!!! how are you today??" just me and my stuff and my thoughts), contemplate what my plan is for the day, I consider my responsibilities: work, family, friends, community and I really try to make my choices based on what I WANT. Not always easy to say no to people who demand of your time - but so satisfying in the long run.  Guess who benefits? everyone.  My children have a less anxious mother, my friends have a friend who wants to be there, my work is the best I can offer. I feel calmer. Whose life is it anyway?

So that is a step in the direction of my journey towards balance, just a small one, but its gets more powerful everyday.

Okay I don't sit on my porch during the winter (much) but its so pretty.

Ahhh, much better. We need some Fall pictures for inspiration - more the come...