Uncategorized

Course Correction – where are those goals?

by Denise5 Comments on Course Correction – where are those goals?
Course Correction – where are those goals?

As I write this, it is February 4th and we are 35 days into this new year. If you’re one of those who set goals for 2016 and actually wrote them down somewhere, then you are one of a small percentage of the population who accomplished this task. Most of us will make resolutions. We’ll promise to make changes, to eat healthier, to exercise, to spend more time with our children, to stop and smell the roses. But few of us will take the time to create specific definable goals. A Harvard study revealed that 83% of the population have no goals at all. Only 14% of us even have a plan in mind for how we want our life to go. Even fewer still will write any of this down on paper. Just 3% of us will take pen to paper. So if you are one of those who wrote your goals down, give yourself a pat on the back. You are the ones I want to talk to today.

Those goals that you took the time to think about and write down just a few weeks ago, where are they now? Sure, a few of you will pull an index card out of your pocket or refer to a page taped to your bathroom mirror. Some of you will have a journal, a day planner, or a notebook. But the majority of you have a quizzical look on your face right now because you can’t remember exactly what you did with that sheet of paper. For that matter, you’re a little bit foggy as to what those goals you wrote were even about.

Don’t feel bad. Although I don’t have a Harvard study to back me up, my gut tells me that you are not alone. In fact, based on my small circle, I’m gonna bet that you are in the majority of the minority. If I had to guess, I would say that only 3% of the 3% write their goals, develop a plan to achieve their goals, and then successfully track their goals. And that is why approximately 92% of the goals we set will fail within two weeks of setting them.

Goals that are written down and never checked are only slightly better than no goals at all. Writing goals gives us a target, a vision for where we want to go but tracking our goals helps to keep us on the right path and moving closer to our target. I once heard goal setting compared to a sailing ship. The captain might have a destination in mind for his voyage but if he fails to track the progress of his journey, he will sail aimlessly around most likely never reaching his targeted destination.

Don’t be discouraged. It is never too late to get back on course. Unless of course, you’re the captain of that ship and you’ve run out of provisions and your crew has died or the ship has sunk…but I digress.

So how do we get back on track? First, find that sheet of paper where you wrote down your goals. Re-word your goals if necessary to insure they are S.M.A.R.T goals. By this I mean:

S – Specific – Your goals must be as specific as you can possibly make them.

  • Bad: Write a book.
  • Good: Write a book proposal for “Nanny’s Wisdom.”

M – Measurable – Remember, “you can’t manage what you can’t measure.” As much as possible, quantify the result.

  • Bad: Save more money this year.
  • Good: Put 10% of each paycheck into a savings account.

A – Actionable – Start each goal with an “action” verb (run, eliminate, create) rather than a “to be” verb (have, be, am).

  • Bad: Be more consistent with yoga practice.
  • Good: Attend 3 or more yoga classes each week.

R – Realistic – This one is a bit tricky. Your goals should stretch you. If you aren’t stepping out of your comfort zone then you aren’t growing. Said another way, “if your goals don’t scare you, then they aren’t big enough.”

  • Bad: Write a best-selling novel.
  • Good: Submit a book proposal.

T – Time bound – Every goal needs a date associated with it. A goal without a date is just a dream.

  • Bad: Learn to use Quickbooks.
  • Good: Learn to use Quickbooks by March 31st.

Okay, now that you have written smart goals, you need to break these goals down into manageable and achievable actions. You are creating a road map that will help you get to your desired destination, ie. your goal. This time you are going to keep your goals in front of you. You’re going to refer to them often. I recommend that you read over your goals every morning. This is the secret sauce that turns dreams into reality. Thoughts become things. Read over your goals and visualize what you will feel like when you have achieved each one. Don’t rush this part. Give yourself time to reflect on each goal. Express gratitude for this part of your day and for the freedom to set goals for your life.

Track your progress along the way. Give yourself credit for even the smallest step towards your goal. My favorite definition of success is “steady progress toward a worthwhile goal.” Celebrate yourself on this journey. Ultimately, the journey itself will change you, if only you pay attention. You are a member of an elite group of goal setters. The few who strive to be, as Zig Ziglar liked to say, “meaningful specifics and not wandering generalities.” Congratulations for that.

Clear strategy and leadership solutions

 

 

 

 

 

Uncategorized

Slowly and Steadily Terrorized

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Slowly and Steadily Terrorized

I’ve always been a headcounter. From my days as a camp counselor with twelve little preschoolers running around me, to my days as a middle school teacher with 30 plus kids to usher around, to my days with little ones of my own, I find comfort in counting heads to insure everyone is where they are supposed to be.

When my babies were young this was much easier. They were all located in the same space. As they grew and became more independent, my head counting evolved from a visual count to a mental count. Unable to lay my eyes on each one, I would visualize where they were, sometimes making a phone call to confirm. It’s my way of keeping them close even when they wander.This ritual comforts me. However, any one of them will be the first to tell you that an unanswered phone call can send me into a state of panic in a very short period of time. “Answer mom’s call or she’ll be all over facebook tracking you down!”

I remember the first time I couldn’t locate child #1. He was a freshman in college in North Carolina. I was living in Texas. For thirty minutes he was MIA, not answering his phone, not returning texts, and absent from facebook. My vivid imagination took over with thoughts of crashed cars, kidnappings, and a number of other absurd possibilities. He was my first. I’ve learned since then that a dead phone battery is most likely the reason.

Over the past several years, the time span before panic sets in has grown longer for me. With each child I’ve relaxed a bit more. Learning to trust that they are safe, they are capable, and they will call me back.

Until recently.

When did I start worrying that they were going to a movie? When was it that a concert became a threatening situation? How did I shift from feeling safe to feeling insecure? And most importantly, how do I shift it all back?

I find myself more often doing a mental check of where our children are at any given moment. These checks now involve a new element of concern with children living in Paris, working at Disney World, studying on University campuses, and traveling outside the country. Lockdown drills at school have evolved into real time threats. Text messages in the middle of the day saying, “I’m okay mom. We’re in lock down again. There is a possible shooter in the area.” Late night conversations with a scared child who’s too far away. Reassuring them they are okay, all the while shaking myself.

They are safe, they are capable, and they will call me back.

I maintain calm and trust. Keep a positive mindset. Think good thoughts. Believe all is well. Stay in the moment. Don’t let fear creep in. Fear comes from thoughts of the past. Anxiety comes from worries of the future. Stay in the moment. This moment all is well.fa452aa7848561b365b954eb65cfe7fa

This morning I kissed my child good-bye and thought, “Dear Lord, please keep him safe in his school today.” A mother shouldn’t ever have to feel this way, ever. This is the feeling of being terrorized. It doesn’t matter who is doing it or what their agenda might be. Domestic or foreign, it doesn’t matter.  The motive is to terrorize. The media feeds it and despite my resolve not to let it change me, it will. In tiny, slow, steady increments, it will.

Uncategorized

Breathe in Gratitude.

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Breathe in Gratitude.

Cat

Hurricane Joaquin is making it’s way up the coastline and rain has been falling steadily on North Carolina for so many days that I’ve lost count. Mushrooms sprouted up over night in the front yard and Sadie is refusing to walk out on the soggy grass for potty time. With temperatures dipping into the 50’s, I’m content to curl up in my fuzzy socks and sip coffee today. I’m grateful it’s not sunny outside. I would feel pressure to get out and do something and I’m just not feeling it.

My Cat is missing.

Today I need comfort. I need to give and to receive big, warm, all-encompassing hugs. I need heart connection, soul protection, and a feeling of peace.

Another mass murder. Fleeing refugees. Hate-filled words. Ignorance. Judgment. Lack of compassion. Narrow-minded views with no attempt at understanding. Parents with Alzheimer’s. Drug addicted children. Corrupt politicians. Overcrowded prisons. Autistic children. Mentally ill with no health coverage. Government red tape. Greed. Depression. Parents dying. Friends suffering.

And my Cat is missing.

On every level, (universal, national, local, friend, family, personal) events unfold to show contrast and to remind me of all I have to be grateful for.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful to have been born in this country where I wake up each morning with a roof over my head and knowledge that my children are safe, none of us forced to flee our homes, fear for our lives, wonder where our next meal will come from or if we will live to see the next day.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful to have been raised in a community with an opportunity for personal growth, privileged not to struggle financially, not to face discrimination or persecution based on my religion, my culture, or my DNA.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful for this open mind, willing to learn and desperate to understand. Not needing to agree in order to accept. Believing we are more alike than we are unalike and holding fast to the belief that the Divine unites us all.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful for this sadness that sits with me today. Knowing it is this heart that allows me to feel so intensely. This same heart that now loves without condition or limit is open to pleasure and likewise to pain.

So today I’ll nurture this sadness that has come to visit me. I’ll curl myself up in a patchwork afghan lovingly made by a kindred spirit. I’ll sip my coffee and count my blessings. I’ll gather light and I’ll send it out into this suffering world through my open heart. This is all I know to do right now.

And I’ll keep the porch door propped open so Cat can come home.

Uncategorized

Letters from my children

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Letters from my children

Every once in a while life gives us a moment of affirmation. A moment of pause when we are presented with evidence that somewhere along the twisted rocky path we’ve been walking, we were able to stumble in just such a way as to do something very right. For me, that moment of affirmation came in the form of letters written by my children.

LettersSix years ago, my ex and I told our four children we were getting a divorce. The marriage ended long before I had the courage to speak the words. Fear kept me in place. Fear of losing my children, losing the relationships that meant more to me than life, fear that they wouldn’t understand why, and fear that I wouldn’t be able to explain fast enough to keep them close. I worked their entire lives to create a façade in order to protect them from reality and in a matter of seconds I ripped the curtain down, exposing a truth they couldn’t possibly comprehend quickly. I asked them to trust me while I crumbled the foundation their young lives had been standing on. Looking into four sets of eyes, filled with fear and disbelief, I could only beg them to search their hearts and to know how much I loved them.

“You know who I am. I would never do anything that I don’t believe is best for you. I know how much this hurts but I promise, everything is going to be okay.”

I’m not certain I believed my own words back then. It would have been easier to stay silent. I wasn’t sure everything was going to be okay. I only knew that if I didn’t take action to change the course of our lives, my children would grow up to repeat the pattern I had created. The pattern of a life not lived, of walking on eggshells, morphing one’s self, going through the motions, not knowing the power of self love, living in a fog with no pathway through. I only knew that no one else was going to change the way things were, it was up to me. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do. I only knew what I couldn’t do any longer. Something had flipped inside me and I had no choice but to move forward, blindly walking toward a place of peace, searching for joy. My fear was the cost could be the love of my children. I chose the risk. I loved them too much not to.

I believe as parents, it is our responsibility to model an authentic life for our children. Not to model the perfect life as fantasized in the media, but to live our lives from a place of truth and love, warts and all. For me, the truth was that I had never learned to love myself. Childhood experiences served to create a feeling of “not good enough” that molded me into an adult who felt a need to prove herself as “better than” in order to be okay. Insecurity built a fortress around my heart to protect me from the pain of judgment. Attempts to venture beyond the fortress walls proved to be painful and each time I retreated further from my truth. Years and years of hiding exhausted me to the point of hopelessness and it was at that point when the risk of staying the same was greater than the risk of making a change.

Blindly, I walked through the fortress gate into an unknown space. For a while, I suspect my children and others didn’t recognize me. I didn’t recognize myself. I lived moment to moment not able to think consciously of the choices I was making but only to feel each choice step-by-step slowing making my way to the light. Conscious thought had not served me well through the years. My ego voice was strong and if allowed to speak, would drown out my intuition. For a while, survival required me to silence my ego and move purely from my shattered open heart. I’m not certain I was the best mother during that time. If I am honest with myself, I don’t remember a lot of what was happening then in regards to actual events. I remember feelings. I remember missing my children. I remember sobbing myself to sleep after screaming fits of frustration and anger left me exhausted and unable to move from floor to bed. I remember loneliness. I remember fear. I remember knowing I was following the right path for the first time in my life despite the pain. What I didn’t know for certain was if my children would ever know this too.

I came to believe over the years that my children had forgiven me for the upheaval of their lives. Children adapt and mine began to relax and settle into the new “normal” that was our life. We stumbled a few times but slowly we all began to learn a new way of being. Laughter returned and with it a new level of honesty and communication. Recently I received as a wedding gift from my darling husband, a journal filled with letters written by those I hold dearest in my life, letters written with raw honesty, confirming my decision to follow my heart all those years ago.

Words written by my children of gratitude for “courageously fighting for what I believed was best for my heart and for the hearts of my children.” Their letters expressed an understanding that selfishness is not a negative trait. Taking care of one’s Self must come first before we can truly care for others. Unbeknownst to me, they have seen and now understand that until I was brave enough to risk it all, I wasn’t able to love completely. They thanked me for “modeling” exactly what I wanted them to learn. They used words like authenticity, passion, alignment, synchronicity, joy, Divine guidance, and abundance. They thanked me for the example of a loving relationship filled with joy. They wrote of lessons I had taught them and words of wisdom I had shared, most of which I didn’t think they were hearing at the time.

Reading their letters over and over I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for these amazing souls who chose me to be their earthly mother. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the knowledge that life is not meant to be a struggle. I’m forever thankful to have been given a second chance to live in this truth and experience the joy life can hold for all of us. Most of all, I’m thankful for the path I have walked, thankful to have been broken open, for it is from this wide open heart that I now live and love.

Uncategorized

For the next 9 days I’m practicing peace and loving-kindness, so don’t piss me off.

by Denise1 Comment on For the next 9 days I’m practicing peace and loving-kindness, so don’t piss me off.

Let’s get married in June she said…

A spring real estate market, the end of a school year, high school graduation, children’s birthdays, home remodeling, throw in a few family crises and a Full moon during Mercury Metrograde – perfect timing for a wedding. At least that’s how it’s worked out for us and we’re smiling through it all because in 9 more days we’ll be married.

The old me would have been curled up in a ball under the bed by now. The simple fact that my dress isn’t finished would have had my OCD in overdrive, not to mention the fact that the girls’ dresses are also still being altered and the boys’ pants have not yet arrived at the store. Minor elements not to be concerned about, right? Worse case, we will be at Belks next week buying things off the rack. Either way, in 9 more days we will be married.

The old me set my calendar in December. Once we settled on a date, I worked my way back, carefully calculating every step of the planning process so that by Friday June 5th (which is tomorrow, by the way), I would have everything completed and nothing left to do except enjoy the last week before our wedding. A weekend with my girlfriends at the Umstead Spa, manis/pedis, and sushi with our daughters on Monday, a final hair appointment on Tuesday, and then a full day for last-minute packing before we head off to the mountains for the weekend. What is it they say? “The best laid plans of mice and men….” “If you want to see God laugh….” I feel fairly certain God is having a huge belly laugh these days and we have chosen to laugh right along with her because in 9 more days we will be married.

The old me set an intention for our wedding that the weekend would be calm, joyful, and drama-free. The intention was based largely on a desire to avoid past feelings, a fear of being out of control; an expectation that if drama came in, my peace would go out. Although my intention was a good one, the fear that it was based on was not.

Five days ago drama began to enter the picture in such a way that Buddha himself couldn’t have stopped it. An early morning family crisis took me to a place of fierce anger that I haven’t experienced in years. I was called to protect and my momma-ego rose to the challenge. A few hours later, a minor crisis required me to stay calm, think clearly, navigate to safety and then work toward resolution. The next morning, I was called to comfort, and with equal fierceness, I rushed off without question to provide support gathering strength from past experiences that had prepared me for the challenge. During the 3 hour drive back home the next day, I began to chuckle to myself as I ran the recent events through my mind. The old me would have been stressed, jacked up, and anxious. Instead, I felt grateful. Grateful for where I am and how far I have come, grateful for past challenges that provided the fuel for me to grow, and grateful for the moment of realization that I am okay.

The past few days provided several opportunities for me to see and to believe I’m not the old me any longer. In the past, drama scared me. I ran so hard to get away from it that once my life was peaceful, I thought I had to avoid drama at all costs or everything would crumble. These recent lessons have taught me that drama is part of life. The drama isn’t good or bad. It just is. Peace is not a life without drama. Peace is staying calm in the midst of the drama.

In 9 more days, I will marry my best friend, my biggest fan, my partner in crime, the man who makes me laugh, who loves me just as I am, who sees in me the woman I want to be and helps me each day to grow closer to that ideal. The new me knows that this is all that matters. The rest is just small stuff. So what if my dress isn’t finished? There is always duct tape and safety pins.

The drama didn’t stop just because I had this moment of clarity. Nope, the lessons have continued and with each one we are laughing a bit harder. Shoe racks falling in the middle of the night, unexpected notices in the mail, floods in the kitchen, crazy closings, and crazier clients. We might decide to curl up under the bed before it’s all over but we’ll do it with flashlights, a bottle of wine, and a nice tray of cheese. And we’ll be under there together because in 9 more days we’re getting married! ❤ peace ❤

karoke1

Uncategorized

I love Holidays. I hate what we do to them.

by DeniseLeave a Comment on I love Holidays. I hate what we do to them.
I love Holidays. I hate what we do to them.

imgresI have a love-hate relationship with holidays. In their purest form, celebrated in a vacuum removed from judgement and commercialism, I love holidays. There is a part of me that wishes to celebrate each and every one, to throw myself into the rituals and customs that make holidays rich.

As I child, I loved dyeing eggs, watching fireworks, eating turkey, hanging stockings, and staying awake to greet the new year. Each holiday carried with it traditions that I embraced and internalized. Easter was hunting eggs in the front yard that my grandmother played in as a girl. Birthdays were white cakes with pink decorations, my name spelled on top and flowers around the bottom. Fourth of July meant homemade ice cream and Dad at the grill flipping burgers. Thanksgiving was a week of baking pies and cakes, roasting turkeys, casseroles, and cornbread dressing, all culminating in a large family gathering with enough food to feed an army. And Christmas was Mom’s breakfast of fresh ham, eggs, grits, and biscuits followed by a day of visiting family, singing carols, and mountains of wrapping paper.

Over the years I’ve been exposed to holidays outside my Christian upbringing and embraced them with enthusiasm, all the while wishing to remove the labels that serve to separate. I love the peacefulness of Shabbat dinner with warm Challah bread and candles, the introspection of Rosh Hashanah, the lighting of menorah candles, the discipline of Passover, and though I’ve never built a Sukkot, I think I would like sleeping under the stars on an autumn night. I love the joyful message of Diwali with a wish for peace and harmony and the seven principles that Kwanzaa is centered around. I love the idea of the Lohri bonfire festival when the weather is cold and the kite festival, Uttarayn, to celebrate the beginning of Spring.

With labels removed, I find the essence of each holiday to be the same, love. Holidays are times to gather family and friends, to reflect and appreciate, to celebrate life and to share laughter. Perhaps this is why I have always felt strongest about Thanksgiving and have been drawn to this holiday that no one religion has claimed and commercial retailers aren’t interested in. For this reason, Thanksgiving remains pure. We all gather together to celebrate the blessings of this life, expressing our gratitude in as many different ways are there are people among us.

When my children were small I began making a big deal of Thanksgiving. Traditions were important. I wanted them to have solid memories that they would pass down for generations. The same menu each year, many of the items from my childhood: cornbread dressing, sweet potato casserole, brown-n-serve rolls, collards, pears with cream cheese, deviled eggs, sweet tea, and pecan pies. We added items from their father’s family: corn casserole, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. Turkey roasting was our own creation complete with a brining tradition and a “gooble-gooble BAM!” seasoning ritual.

Some of my happiest memories are bare legs on the countertop, covered in flour, helping me cook. With four children, for many years, at least one would help with Thanksgiving preparation. As they grew older, sometimes the only help would come in the form of a licked beater or occasionally being available to reach something from a high shelf but I knew in my heart the tradition still mattered and they noticed. They noticed the apron I wore and the hours I spent in the kitchen for days leading up to Thursday’s dinner. They noticed the holiday music and that their favorite foods were prepared. They counted on the tradition and for many years, relied on it as proof that their world was okay.

It was for this reason that I promised them nothing would change about Thanksgiving when their Dad and I divorced. Looking into the scared eyes of my four children,with the best of intentions, I made a promise that I should not have made. For all the same reasons we are no longer married, it was not a realistic idea. Of course things would change because Thanksgiving is not just a day. It’s not just the food and the football. Thanksgiving is a feeling. It’s about gratitude and love. Thanksgiving is coming together with those you hold dear, reflecting on the past and looking forward to the future. Thanksgiving is a time of celebration and tradition. For me, it’s a time of blessing my family with nourishing food, joyful music, laughter, and love.

This year for the first time in 26 years, I won’t be with my children on Thanksgiving Day.  This is a choice I have made after several years of fulfilling an unrealistic promise. I don’t know what it will feel like to wake up that thursday morning and not spend the day in the kitchen. Honestly, I’m a little scared and for that reason, I’m going away for a change of scenery. I worry about how they will feel that day and I hope for understanding. This is a huge step for me. By giving up the day, I am taking back my Thanksgiving.  I’m going to embrace the spirit of the holiday in its pure form without pressure to make it about one particular day. I will bake all day saturday, filling our home with holiday music and the aroma of roasting turkey. On Sunday our home will be filled with family, our bellies filled with food, and our hearts filled with love.

And maybe, if I’m lucky, I can get someone to help put up the tree before they leave.

Uncategorized

5 Things I’m Grateful for When He is Away

by Denise1 Comment on 5 Things I’m Grateful for When He is Away

9a76de87a660e852b09789ea42668b4d  Living with someone who is away almost as much as he is home, can be less than ideal. Even though the hello’s can be pretty damn fantastic, the good-byes are always tough and most of the time I’m a big wimp when he’s gone. The past month has been especially rough. In addition to his normal travel schedule, he had extra trips thrown in that left me home alone for all but nine out of 32 days. During this time I decided to find things to be grateful for in his absence.

1. Unlimited access to TLC programming – This month I was able to clear out the list of recorded shows that are my guilty pleasure. It was a marathon of “Long Island Medium”, “Say Yes to the Dress”, and “90 Day Fiancee”. We don’t watch these shows together for obvious reasons. He doesn’t ask me to watch those crime shows either so it’s fair.

2. Menu-less meals – Although it hasn’t been the best thing for me physically, there is something nice about a bowl of popcorn or a peanut butter sandwich for dinner every once in a while. Living with someone who loves to cook has spoiled me so when he’s away, I choose not to use the stove. It wouldn’t be as tasty anyway.

3. Saving money on toiletries – To be honest, I don’t use a lot of shaving cream when I’m home alone. Eliminating this one chore from my day saves not only money but a lot of time and if I don’t have to go to the office, there’s no need for make-up either, or even a change of clothes. (I should find a way to track the savings. It could be substantial.)

4. Reconnecting with my inner child – Once I found the perfect number of pillows to surround myself with at night, it felt a bit like sleeping in the fort I built as a child. Of course, I disassemble the structure before he gets home. He might think I’ve lost my mind to see what our bedroom looks like when he’s away.

5. Enthusiastic housecleaning – Without fail, the day he travels back fills me with the urge to deep clean our home. I throw the windows open, turn the music up and do my best cleaning on this day. This might have something to do with the state of disarray the above-mentioned activities create after a few days.

I’m extremely aware of how lucky I am to have something that makes time spent apart so difficult. It’s easy for me to create long lists of things I’m grateful for on a daily basis. Occasionally, it’s nice to remind myself to look for moments of gratitude in the hidden spaces of my life too.

Uncategorized

For this reason, I will not apologize <3

by DeniseLeave a Comment on For this reason, I will not apologize <3

I’m sorry if I offend you, but I will no longer apologize. From this day forward, I will not temper my comments or hold back my enthusiasm. If I wake up happy because I’m lying beside the love of my life or I wake up sad because he’s half way around the world, I’m going to say it. If a text message brings a spontaneous smile to my face, I’m going to show it. If tears fill my eyes and a lump gathers in my throat because I’m humbled by the children God trusted to my care, I’m going to feel it. If I’m suddenly overwhelmed by this amazingly beautiful life that I’m living, I’m going to share it. And if that makes you uncomfortable, well, that’s on you, not me. Life is short. Love is fabulous. Laughter is healing. And the uncensored spontaneous expression of happiness is Joy. I will no longer dilute my expression to suit your needs. I don’t say this selfishly. This isn’t an ego thing. It isn’t boasting or bragging. This is living life authentically from the heart. This is feeling it all deeply, letting it in, and loving it out. This is learning that I am worthy, lovable, capable, and deserving. This is finally realizing that life isn’t meant to be a struggle, that we are here to experience joy and to live our lives in the fullest expression of that joy. I am aware of how blessed my life is and grateful each and every day for these blessings. For this reason, I will no longer apologize or hold back. Because I know how special this is, I wish this for you too. I wish for you the feeling that I wake up with each day and say thanks for each night. I wish for you to know what crazy stupid love feels like. To have a heart so full you feel it might burst and then to feel it expand even more. Life's enjoyment I wish for you the desire to stand high on a mountain and exclaim at the top of your voice how much you love Love! I wish for you to feel your Soul dancing inside your body. To love and be loved unconditionally and without reservation. I wish for you to be so overwhelmed with a heart so wide open that the thought of containing all that emotion is exhausting to the point that you give up.  You give up and say unapologetically and lovingly, “This is me and I will no longer apologize.”

Uncategorized

Don’t call it love

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Don’t call it love
Don’t call it love

Somehow we as a society have come to believe that love is a given based on the nature of some relationships. The idea that family is forever, a mother’s love is unconditional, blood is thicker than water, etc, etc, have created a false sense of what love actually is.

For those whose blood-based connections are anything less than supportive and loving, there is a feeling of inadequacy and loss. If you were raised up to feel that love is conditional, you’re left with only yourself to blame when that love is withheld. Hallmark cards covered with quotes glorifying a mother’s love, sibling connections, and the ever present bond of family, only add insult to injury.

In reality, some of the deepest pain is inflicted by the closest relationships. Family is not necessarily forever, some mothers love conditionally, and blood has little to do with how we treat each other. This idea of “family equals love” has created an entitlement attitude where relatives carelessly take each other for granted.

Daisies-Green-Nature-1920x1080-Widescreen-High-Resolution-1080p-HD-Desktop-Wallpaper-Mr-HD-Wallpapers-1366x768
Love doesn’t hurt.

The bottom line is this: If it hurts, it isn’t love. It matters not at all who the relationship is with. Call it something else, but don’t call it love.

Love comes from within and radiates out. Love yourself enough that you no longer allow those without love for you to affect your sense of self. Ultimately, it has little to do with you. Surround yourself with those who radiate love and the family you were born to be a part of will emerge. ❤

Uncategorized

Acceptance is messy

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Acceptance is messy

Focus on what you have. Stop wishing for what you don’t. Be grateful for friends to laugh with, children to be proud of, and a partner to love. Accentuate the positive. Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

IMG_0192Accept what IS. Release all expectations.

But today is grey. Today is heavy. Today is a wool sock, and sweatpants wrapped in an old quilt kind of day.

Today is sixty-four degrees and cloudy. Today I don’t have the energy to be a happy person, grateful and optimistic. Today my glass feels half empty and the trees are obscuring my view of the forest.

I’ve made my share of lemonade from life’s lemons and I mastered turning my frowns upside down at an early age. I was taught to dry my eyes, fix my make-up and show up with a smile.

I know how to look past stiff hugs, cold shoulders, dismissive comments, criticism disguised as humor, and long periods of silence. I can make excuses for others and believe the best even when their worst smacks me square in the face.

But I don’t know how to do hopeless. Hopeless is the toughest place to be for an optimist. I don’t do ‘give up’ very well.

For me, hopeless is Hell, a spiritual realm of suffering, allowing someone else’s action or lack of action to affect your wellbeing and peace. This is wanting desperately for someone to love you the way you want to be loved but knowing they never will. This is realizing that family is not synonymous with unconditional love, but loving them anyway. This is facing the fact that some people are okay without you in their lives and nothing you do or say will change that but showing up anyway. It’s finally learning that you can’t love enough for both sides no matter how hard you try but trying anyway. This is someone misunderstanding your heart but opening it wider anyway. It’s realizing that this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.

Resisting the feeling of hopelessness gives power to the feeling. What you resist will persist. Sometimes sinking into it, allowing the heart to grieve, the Soul to cry, and the body to curl up for a day is necessary to move through the Hell to the other side.

Perhaps peace comes not only from accepting the situation as it IS, but from also acknowledging that acceptance doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes acceptance hurts. Forgiveness can be lonely and peace can feel empty.

Acceptance is walking through the Hell authentically and it can look unshowered, unshaven, and messy. Acceptance isn’t always pretty and strong, but you are God’s highest form of creation and you are okay.