The Right Words
I get frustrated sometimes. (I pause to allow time for your collective shock and dismay at such a thought…) I get frustrated sometimes and I get angry and I become tense and hard to read. That is how I deal with my frustration. I will put a lid on every thought and feeling and say nothing, because the alternative is to say something I can’t take back.
Maybe you have been there, in that moment when you are so angry and frustrated that you want to spit. Feeling the words coming unbidden to your lips, and knowing that if you spoke them you could inflict damage to someone, perhaps someone you love. I have personally been in that place many times in my life and I am sorry to say that I let those words go. In almost every case I was instantly sorry for what I had said. In almost every case it was a long hard struggle to try and fix the hurt and anger that lived on long after the words were spoken. Sometimes it never got fixed and just left me feeling like the bully on the playground, knocking down the weaker kids. It used to happen a lot. For most of my life, my temper was quick and ferocious. I never held back. Now I have a much longer fuse, and the likelihood that I will explode is very small. But I wonder if it is better to hold the words in, just because they may sting a little.
Sometimes those words that you are holding back are really the indicator that you have something you need to say. Without the various swearwords and insults there sometimes lies a real issue that needs to be addressed. Its how we get those words out that is the challenge. I am still trying to master communicating hurt and anger without condemnation and derision. Since I am not very good at it , I usually just shut down. Not the best solution either, this one does almost as much damage. The damage is just more to me than the other person and usually leaves me feeling trapped between my own feelings and the other person’s. Not really a great solution.
So let me ask you, how do you deal with frustration and anger? What do you do to tell people “What you did or said is not ok.” Do you give in to that inner bully? How do you balance the need to be heard with the need to be kind. How do you find the right words?
Why do we run?
Runners at the finish as the tragedy unfolds.
Today in Boston, Patriot’s day, the day of the Boston Marathon was suddenly a day of terror. The world’s oldest annual marathon ended abruptly in fire and fear. Fear. What should have been elation, and a celebration of the spirit of the runner and their triumph was turned to into a panicked scene out of a nightmare. Yet, the runners kept running.
Some had come to the end of 26.2 miles of running, and exhausted as they were, they kept running. Running from the blast of explosives, running to medical tents to seek assistance, running to find friends and family, and running to help others on the course. Some even ran to nearby hospitals to donate blood for the wounded. I find it a very powerful comment on the spirit of not just these athletes, but of the American spirit as well. For many of the volunteers were also running. Running to help. Medical staff and first responders were running, and spectators and citizens were running, looking to offer assistance where ever possible. We see it everywhere, we see it at every tragedy, the spirit of the runner in ourselves. Running toward and not away.
The runner runs to the finish line, not away from the starting line. They run to test their abilities, to improve themselves, or to find a sense of self. Some run for the peace it brings them, and many for the feeling of accomplishment. Some even run for the sense of community that people in the running world find among themselves. I run simply as a joyous expression of the fact that I can run. But whatever the reason, they run. And they will continue running.
A tragedy such as today’s will give us pause. It will break our hearts and leave us to question, “why?” Our Bostonian Patriot’s Day will not forget what happened today, it will be a solemn part of this race forever. But we will still run. Our athletes will run for the same reasons they have always run, and they will run to show that this horrible and tragic event cannot stop them. Our nation will continue to run because as Americans we still have goals to achieve, and we will not be deterred from them. Our communities and families will keep running because we do not stop in the face of tragedy, we keep going. We run toward our goals and not away from our fears.
That is why we run. That is why we will always run.
Change is hard, even when you love it.
Change is Hard
If you read my post for this past week, you know that I just started taking Escrima lessons. My friend is actually one of the most highly skilled in this form of martial arts in the area, and he graciously agreed to teach me, along with several others.
After my first lesson, where I managed to not completely embarrass myself, my friend/instructor came to see me and we talked about the lesson. He made a comment about the changes that he has seen in me over the last year and a half. Essentially, the entire time he has known me. He said he thought I would be good at learning Escrima because I seem to hold myself with a lot more confidence than before, and confidence is important in any martial art form.
It was an interesting conversation. Not really about the lessons (which are absolutely interesting!) but because this person who is still a relatively new friend, noticed some dramatic changes in me.
Over the last two years, I quit smoking. I turned 40. I quit one job and got a new job. I lost 50 lbs. I embraced a very active lifestyle. I learned to let go of some plaguing and deep-seated fears. I graduated with my first degree. I traveled a little. I found a lot of inner strength and even some inner peace. I learned to love running.
Along the way, I felt a shift in the balance of almost every single relationship I have.
The thing is, when you embark on a journey of self-discovery, or change, or enlightenment, or whatever you want to call it, you have to leave one place to end up in another. And you can’t always predict where that new place will be, or who will be waiting for you when you get there. That is part of what makes change so hard.
When you make an effort to find strength of your own, sometimes people who provided the strength for you when you were at your weakest find it hard to let go of their control. Sometimes it becomes a grasp for that control through ridicule or mocking. Sometimes it results in a drastic severing of a relationship. And sometimes its slow decent into apathy. It really shocked me, to know that there were some in my own inner circle, that were not happy that I was happy. They didn’t like the new me. They liked me better at my weakest.
I like me better now. Stronger, happier, more energetic, and more likely to confront my fears than ever.
When you make the decision to change who you are, or to go on your journey for self-improvement, or enlightenment, or inner strength, do it for you. Don’t wait for universal approval, you won’t get it. Be the change you want to see in the world? No, be the change you want to see in yourself. Let those who want to share in your change do so. Those who want to hold you back or hold you to a lesser you, they are only doing so because they are too scared to be that change for themselves.
Change is hard, even when you love it. Mostly because you are likely to lose someone you thought was important on your way to that better you.
Becoming a Domestic Goddess, Part I
I am going to be 40 this year. Don’t tell anyone.
I am going to be 40 this year and I am trying to improve myself before its too late. This means I am attempting to be more health conscious, to become better educated, and to embrace my inner Domestic Goddess.
The last one is killing me.
I am not Martha Stewart, although she is one of my heroes. She’s like the MacGyver of domesticity! She can pull off a 20 person dinner party with a can of peas and some duct tape! Her home is beautiful, chock full of ingenious handmade accessories and personalized accoutrement that make the rest of us weep in shame and envy. Why can’t I do that?
Oh, yeah, I’m a slob, that’s why.
Now, please understand , I am not scheduled for a visit from “Hoarders” or “Clean House” any time soon. I have just always felt that a little chaos and clutter goes a long way toward making a house looked cozy and lived in. And, okay, maybe I have far surpassed lived in and landed squarely in buried alive but that doesn’t mean I don’t have an inner June Cleaver just dying to get out.
So I started in the bedroom. The one place I should be able to hide all my mess find blissful serenity. I began by cleaning out the closet, much to the chagrin of my cat who had built a little nest in the clothes that had fallen to the floor. I would get rid of everything I don’t use or wear. I was merciless. If I hadn’t worn it in the last year, out it went. Well, not the gold taffeta dress, I really love my gold dress. Who cares that I have had it for 10 years and never worn it. And the shoes that match, if I keep the dress it would be silly not to keep the shoes. And my green giraffe sweater from high school. I have to keep that! I named all the giraffes on it! (Shorty, Conrad, and Ruble) Which meant that I also had to keep the purple cape, the velvet headdress from the Renn Fest in ’97, all of my Orioles baseball hats, and my Olivander’s t-shirt “Where the wand chooses the wizard!” At the end of 5 solid hours of excruciating agony and tearful trips down memory lane I had 5 lawn size bags of t-shirts, suits, handbags, and shoes (17 pair) to be sent off to the Brothers and Sisters donation drop.
With the closet cleared out, it was time to move on to the floors. I gathered up all my dirty clothes and sorted them into hampers. I picked up all the remaining shoes and put them in the closet, in the hanging shoe bags that I have had for 15 years which my shoes seem to be afraid of. I swept. I mopped. I broke out the hand vac with the HEPA filter and ran it along all the edges and corners. I even dusted. I was exhausted.
Except, now I have to keep going or I will be sleeping on a bare mattress and wearing my gold dress and matching shoes to work. Twelve loads of laundry later, I am beginning to detest Martha Stewart.
After clearing out and cleaning up my bedroom I decided I need a fresh coat of paint to help brighten things up. Off to Lowes! $127.94 later I have arrived home with two gallons of paint, a curtain rod, curtains, a table lamp and a wall sconce, a paint roller, tray, and edging brush. Plus 47 paint color swatches for the bathroom, and a gallon of paint for the kitchen.
All of which sit in the dining room for a week while I work up the courage to continue my odyssey into domestic divinity.
The following weekend I attacked the walls, ripped out the 40 year old metal blinds, threw out the chipped and grime-ridden wall sconce, and applied two coats of Vanilla Bean eggshell finish latex to the room. Up goes the new wall sconce and curtains. On with the new bedding with matching throw pillows. Art work and accents strategically placed. And, voila! A room any design show host would be proud of!
Now for the rest of the house.
The Unfolding Universe of Idabelle 