I’m sorry, readers, but my son’s epileptic seizures keep on happening, despite the fact that he is now taking five different anti-seizure medications at once. I have no words today. My family and I are worn thin right now. I lose a piece of myself every time that I witness my son lose a piece of himself. Epilepsy sucks. So, I’m just gonna sit here and be a little blue. Thank you for coming by, and sitting with me a little bit.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Our middle son is a first year medical student and on our Family Facetime last night, he told us that he was shadowing the orthopedic doctors in the emergency room on Friday night. He described a man who had lost the tip of his finger and then he told us about another poor man whose hand was completely disconnected from the rest of his wrist and was describing how he had to help hold the arm of the man (who was in agonizing pain), as the orthopedists worked to get the man’s hand back into proper position before it would be too late for the hand to have any hope of any sort of recovery. My son was so enthusiastically describing all of these maladies and remedies, that it got to the point that my younger son said, “Okay, Hannibal Lecter, pipe down.”
Our middle son swore that the only reason why he was smiling, while telling us about his latest medical experiences, was because the mortified and horrified expressions on the rest of our faces, were absolutely hilarious to watch. Every time that he describes one of his medical school experiences, such as holding a cadaver’s heart in the palm of his hand, I softly and weakly say, “So, honey, are you sure that this is still your calling?” And our son is always so enthusiastic in his response, “Yes, Mom, YES!”
Medical professionals, I am in awe of you. I am so grateful for you, and for what you do, and for what you are able to handle. I have trouble digesting our son’s stories, much less witnessing them, or having to be a vital part of these stories. There is no doubt in my mind, that like so many professions, medicine is a special calling. I think that if we would all listen to our deepest selves, and follow our own callings, we would see a world like no other. At the very least, it would be a happier, more passionate world. Thank you to all of you who are living what you are called to do, and made to do. It makes all of the difference in our shared world and experience. We all have our part to play. We are all a thread of The Tapestry. We are all a single cell of The Body.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
My youngest son has been home from college for a little while, in order for us to be with him, while he lets his new adjunct epilepsy medicine start settling into his system. (Thank you for your continued prayers.) While the circumstances that brought him home have not been ideal, having our youngest son/big brother back home for a little while, has been a joy for all of us. My husband has his ” armchair quarterback/football buddy” back, I’ve had great company at home during the day (my son is a wonderful conversationalist), and my daughter has had her adoring big brother back home to pal around with. All three of my daughter’s big brothers have always been amazingly loving and supportive and protective of their little sister, but my daughter has always been particularly close with my youngest son because they are the closest in age to each other. When they were little, they would often casually hold hands as we were walking along anywhere, and they went through a period of being avid WWE wrestling devotees, being sure to watch the events together, every single Friday night. Never having a brother myself, I have always delighted in watching my sons with their sister. It makes me insanely happy, and yet also, insanely jealous for at least one brother, all at the same time.
I have always told my husband and my sons, that my daughter will choose the men in her life, and accept their behaviors, based on how they treat her. They have always being kind, and loving, and respectful to her. Thankfully, so far, my daughter has always dated nice, respectful young men, and has a lot of healthy guy friends in her life. She’s one of those girls who manages to have a lot of friends of both sexes. I think girls with brothers are the best at that, but that’s just my opinion.
I would love to give my guys all of the credit for my daughter’s choices in friends and boyfriends, but truthfully, she goes into her relationships with a “good offense.” My daughter likes herself. She is proud of her achievements. She is not afraid to say “no” to someone or something that doesn’t feel right for her. She doesn’t look for her self esteem to be fulfilled by people outside of herself. I pray that this never changes. Part of this has always just seemed to be her own common-sense filled, “innate way”, but another big part of this, I think, is the fact that she has always been well-treated by those who love her. (especially by the men who have influenced her life the most – her father and her brothers)
In engrossing myself in the Gabby Petito story, I’ve been thinking about how important it is for my daughter to have this good “offense” in her life (and for that matter, for my sons, too. Toxic, unhealthy, disordered individuals aren’t just from one gender.) I think that it is extremely important to work on creating a healthy relationship with oneself, in order to ward off being attractive to the controlling, manipulative, treacherous types. As we see in the Gabby Petito tragedy, and in so many other cases, it is extraordinarily difficult and dangerous to try to defensively pry oneself away from a damaged individual, all the while trying to keep one’s own self esteem and healthy perspectives intact. It’s vitally important for us to trust ourselves, and our deepest instincts, and yet we all know how hard that can be sometimes. When teaching our children to be “nice and polite” we must remember to teach them to be the nicest and the most polite to their very own selves. And most importantly, we must all model that self-assured behavior, in order for the world to become the safer, better place that we want it to be, for our children and for our grandchildren going forward.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Sometimes people ask me how I hold it all together. I’ve watched and witnessed other strong mothers, and I’ve often thought the same thing about them. Facts are, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I fall apart. Sometimes I cry until I think that my eyes will fall out, and sometimes I scream so loud that it hurts my chest. Sometimes I act so crazily sad and angry all at once, that I am a witness of my own craziness, in the bewildered eyes of my own family. And it scares me.
My husband made the dire mistake of saying that I wasn’t being “helpful” in a family conversation which we were having at dinner last night. For a woman, hanging on by a thread, and who has devoted her entire life to her family, that was not good wording to use at that moment (even if it was the truth). After the aftermath of the scourge of my outrage, I am sure that he wished that he could have eaten those words the minute they carelessly fell out of his mouth. Have I mentioned that I am a fire sign (through and through)?
This morning, I read a tweet today by the Wise Connector. He put this out to his followers:
What do you tell yourself when you’re having a bad day? This could be helpful to someone today.
I looked at the hundreds of vast responses. A lot of them answered that they tell themselves that “things could be worse.” Of course, things could be worse. Death is the worst case scenario, and if we are still here to complain about our bad days, than things could be worse. We could be dead. Sometimes I, too, make myself feel better with the “things could be worse” thought, but sometimes that thought just pisses me off. It sets me right off. “Things could be worse” discounts my hurt and my anger and my frustration and my fears. It makes me feel bad for feeling bad.
One person answered the tweet with, “Still I Rise” and I liked that. I envision myself rising mightily from the ashes of my anger and pain. Anger is not necessarily a bad emotion. It has a lot of energy to it. My dogs and I got an extremely brisk walk out of my rage, yesterday evening. It was a “heart healthy” walk. That walk was a good outcome of my anger. Screaming at my family was not a good outcome of my angry feelings. Anger can often be a hard guy to manage.
I vented to some friends last night on our text chat. Only other mothers can truly validate moments like these. My one friend said that she realizes that she is the family’s “tent pole”, always holding everything up, for everyone else. I got the reminders, from my friends, to take care of myself, and to do things for myself. My one friend loves to kayak. My other friend raises beautiful butterflies. The truth is, I like to write. I can’t tell you how cathartic it is for me, to be writing this blog post right now. My cousin read my blog yesterday, and she told me that she couldn’t believe that I could have that kind of clarity while I am hurting like this. I told her that writing is my therapy. Writing is my clarity. Writing is what I do for me. If it resonates with others, then that is a blessing. But writing is what I do for me.
These are the answers to the “bad day” tweet, that resonated the most with me today:
“You’re doing your best. And that is enough. And remember, your ‘best’ will look different every day” – Brianna
“Today I’m not okay, but that’s okay bc I know I’ll be okay.” – Jojo
“If you’re going through hell, keep going” – Winston Churchill
“It’s life, chances are tomorrow will be better. Keep moving forward.” – Linzee In Heels
And this was my all time favorite:
“I want to see what happens if I never give up.” – SweMikeMedia
My son suffered another major seizure this morning. He is in the hospital but fine. We are all fine. My readers, you know that I have a strong, unwavering faith in an all-loving God. I don’t understand this, but I will be okay. Please pray for us and with us. Thank you.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Good morning, my treasured readers. I hope that you are having the kind of Sunday morning that I am having. Relaxing, peaceful, sun-filled, hopeful . . . . this morning indicates a day filled with promise.
Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Sometimes I write a poem, and sometimes I share a poem that another writer has shared with the world. At the very least today, write a poem and share it with yourself. Poetry is perhaps the most intimate form of language which we have in this world.
“Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.” — Paul Engle
Here is my poem for today:
Calm Waters
I am sitting here dwelling in my relief
Isn’t that how it always goes with grief?
It comes in waves, it crescendos and crashes,
Until it levels out, and the tears dry in my lashes.
The largest waves end up as the harmless shallows on the shore,
Only to be sucked back out into the massive ocean of steady core.
The raging storms and waves will be stirred up again, I know.
But today, I will rest in the steady waters that only lightly flow.
Unfortunately, my youngest son suffered another major seizure last night. He is okay. We are okay. But today is a day for me to be quiet with myself, and with my son, and with my family. We’ll take your prayers and loving thoughts, in buckets. Thank you for your support. xo
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
This past weekend, my husband and I took a short flight (versus a 5.5 hour drive) to celebrate with our son as he got his “white jacket” from his medical school. In my experience, the airports are indeed crowded, the flights are full, and quite honestly, no one was being a jerk. Everyone wore their masks. Everyone was polite and patient and aware of keeping as much social distance as possible. Even when we were all boarded on to a plane headed home, and then after a stuffy, 45-minute wait on the airplane, when we were told that we would need to exit the plane because there were engine issues due to a bird strike from the previous flight, everyone, on this totally full flight, quietly took it on the chin. No one complained, not even the woman whom I overheard telling her children that their connecting flight got changed to the next day, and that they might have to spend the night in the airport. “It is what it is,” I heard her say to them.
Now luckily, they found us a new airplane almost immediately. My husband and I were just flying home, so instead of getting home mid-afternoon, we were going to arrive home in the late afternoon. No big deal. My husband and I weren’t too worked up, but there were plenty of people who were going to be missing events and connections, from conversations that I overheard. Yet, people seemed genuinely patient and understanding and “rolling with the punches.” This struck me as a new and unusual experience. When I have experienced these types of scenarios in the past, I can remember hot-headed, angry, red, vein-bursting faces screaming at the gate agents, impervious yelling, tears, and overall, just a much higher level of entitlement and “woe is me” from the crowds (maybe even sometimes from myself?!). It was noticeably different this time. Could this be a good thing that has come from this pandemic? I suppose that I could have just been flying with a particularly peaceful group of people, but part of me thinks that there is something more to my experience. Perhaps like many terrible events, this pandemic has brought to us much horror, but yet also, it has given to many of us, the gift of perspective and camaraderie. We are all in this together. We are doing our best. Despite all of the pain and hardship and negativity, we are making it through, and the things that we used to take for granted (such as flying), we are just so grateful to still be able to experience them again, even when there are blips involved. I felt quite hopeful about humanity after this experience.
And now this:
Moms, I also had a touching and heartwarming experience on this very same flight that will show you that perhaps what this child really means, in the above tweet, is that Mommy is her favorite “everything parent.” As my regular readers know, I am an ashamed, yet admitted eavesdropper. ( I think that most of us writers are – it’s part of observing life.) On the flight mentioned above, seated ahead of me, across the aisle from each other, were two attractive twenty-somethings, one male and one female, casually chatting with each other, for the first time, from what I could gather. They young man had a large scar on his arm and he told the story that he had been in a horrible car accident, that had put him into the ICU for eleven days. He had gotten the scar from the accident. People had told him to put a tattoo over it, but he said that he liked the scar. It reminded him about how fragile life really is, and how important it is to treasure life. The young woman had a similar story related to an inoperable problem with her foot that made it impossible for her to play the sport that she dearly loved. (I didn’t hear what the sport was, but it wasn’t volleyball, because he asked her if it was “volleyball” and she laughed and she said that people always ask her that because she is so tall. I was about to ask her, “Well, what sport was “taken” from you?” but then I bit my tongue, because of course, I couldn’t ask that, due to the fact that I was eavesdropping. That’s rude to interject like that, especially when you are eavesdropping.) Overall, these two young people had amazing attitudes and I was more than impressed with both of them and their lovely conversation. (and I was kind of hoping for a romantic charge between them, like in the movies, but that was not to be.) Instead, the young woman thanked the young man for a wonderful conversation and she told him how inspired she was by his story. He said, “Thank you. I really owe it all to my mom. She has given me so much encouragement and insight, all of my life.” The young woman decidedly replied, “Yes, my mom is the same way! I don’t know what I’d do without her.” And then she smiled at him, and then turned to her book, and their beautiful conversation ended.
And I sat there in my own seat, with a big smile on my face, and a glow in my heart (and a couple of tears in my eyes) because I thought to myself, there are two lovely, wise women out there who have raised two incredible, and kind, and positive people, and these moms are getting all of the credit and unabashed glory, and they don’t even know it. Sometimes, throughout the years, motherhood can feel like a “thankless job”. This I know. But moms, I heard your children’s genuine gratefulness for you, on just a random casual weekend. And I, a perfect stranger to you and to your children, felt genuinely grateful for the promising young people that you have raised to share a world with my own dear children. I deeply echo your wonderful children’s words. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You are my favorite “everything” parent.
This latest surge of coronavirus in our country has brought back some gloom and doom into our everyday conversations. But we will make it through it. This too shall pass. The interesting thing is that when you reflect back on your worst days, you realize how greatly outnumbered the worst days are, by your good days (or at the very least, by your normal, average days).
If someone asked my kids, “What does your mother always tell you?”, I hope that “I love you,” would be the first thing to pop into their minds, to give as their answer. I tell my children that I love them, all of the time. I think that’s so important for them to hear regularly. “I love you.” I also believe that my kids would say, “My mother always tells us to ‘Finish Strong.’ ” When raising children there are so many beginnings and yet also, so many endings involved. At the end of any school year, at the end of any games or competitions which they were involved in, at the final days of their summer jobs, I would always repeat the mantra, “Finish Strong.”
Lately, I have been repeating, “Finish Strong” to myself, quite a lot. My youngest child just started her senior year in high school. This is my final year of full-time mothering, which has been my main task and duty, for the last 25 years of my life. There are going to be a lot of easy, fun, celebratory days, in this coming year, but there will also be some “worst days” sprinkled in. That’s just the way of life. And I believe that we will survive, and even thrive through all of it. I believe that everyone I know has the capacity to “Finish Strong.” And I must model my own words to my children, if these words are to have any meaning and wisdom and worth. “I love you. Finish Strong.” Say these words of confidence and conviction often, to your loved ones, and most importantly, to yourself.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Yesterday, I spent a little bit too much time ruminating in my fear and my worries and my disappointments. It didn’t help that I had woken up in the morning to a terrible dream in which I had been told by a doctor that I had throat cancer. I spazzed out on that one. Interestingly, about half of the hundreds of dream interpretation websites which I looked at, said that this was actually an excellent dream that foretold fortune and happiness and lovely surprises. Nice. Let me tell you, Dreams, “There are much kinder ways to tell me that good things lie ahead.”
Also, yesterday morning, my son texted a picture from his first medical school class. It was occurring on Zoom, in his teensy little apartment bedroom, for eight hours straight. Sigh. Thanks again, Coronavirus. So awful to see you again!
The great mask debate is in full force (and obviously on national display) here again in Florida, and my daughter starts her senior year of high school tomorrow. The ugly vibes are swirling on the news, and in social media, and in the neighborhood and like everyone else, I am so, so, so tired of it all. I had tricked myself, earlier this summer, that with the vaccinations, Covid was practically a thing of the past, and instead it has come back with an ugly vengeance. Some of my closest friends, despite being vaccinated, are in quarantine, healing from Covid infections. Luckily they have seemingly mild cases, so far.
So those three paragraphs above, show you where my mindset (and heartsick) was yesterday, and even into last night, as I crawled into bed. I don’t like that mindset. I don’t like negativity. It doesn’t feel good. As I was waiting to go to sleep, and I was thinking that I really didn’t care to have anymore scary dreams, I went to my phone and I looked up “the most comforting, reassuring thought in the world.”
Over a decade ago, when my family and I were the poster kids for the Great Recession, and we were watching our savings go down the drain like rushing water, this Bible verse helped me to get through those tough times (Matthew 6: 28-30):
28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?
This verse made a lot of sense to me and it became my daily mantra. And thankfully, we made it through the Great Recession just fine. Last night, though, I wanted a new, fresh mantra. My current worries and stresses are more about the health of my family, and of my friends, and of our world, and maybe even my own mental health. My worries are more about the overall health and well-being of everyone I love, including our Mother Earth. So, when I searched up “the most comforting, reassuring thought in the world” last night, the search wasn’t as satisfactory as I wanted it to be. It turns out that there are about 18 million comforting thoughts to pick from.
My love language is the written word. I love to read. I love to write. I love comforting thoughts. My search had me strumming through hundreds and hundreds of uplifting verses and quotes, many that I had already seen, and had already read before, many, many times. So many of these quotes talked about the fruitlessness of worrying. Duh. But that’s not particularly comforting when you are stuck in the worry cycle, which has taken up a life of its own, in your head. It’s hard to find the “off button” for the Worry Cycle, at that point. So reading about how taxing worrying and anxiety is, to your body and to your spirit, is honestly, at times, just more upsetting and worrying, than anything close to being reassuring and comforting.
I was frustrated that there was not one simple consensus as to what is the “the most comforting,reassuring thought in the world”. So, I figured that I might as well take a few screenshots of quotes that at least, resonated with me. This quote was very similar to my favorite Bible verse:
“Don’t try to force anything. Let life be a deep Let-Go. God opens millions of flowers every day without forcing their buds.” – Osho
This one has always made sense to me:
“You are the sky. Everything else is just the weather.” – Pema Chodron
And as I was beating myself up angrily for being such a Wanda Worrier/Debbie Downer/Negative Nancy, this one really struck home:
“I just give myself permission to suck. I find this hugely liberating.” – John Green
But then, some kind of Divine Intervention happened. Without searching for it, I somehow ended up reading a scientific article that talked about comforting music. My guardian angel must have been saying to me, “Girl, you don’t need any more words. You need to get out of that silly little pissy-missy mind of yours, if you want to have a good night’s sleep, and a hope for a more positive tomorrow.” The article that I miraculously landed on, said that this ONE song, created by professional sound therapists, has proven to reduce anxiety by 65%, and shows a 35% reduction in any one person’s typical physiological resting rate. This song is wordless. I played the song as I was trying to fall asleep. And I slept so soundly. My husband didn’t know that we were both being “treated” by this song last night, because he was already asleep when I played it, but this morning, the first thing that he remarked to me was how well he had slept last night. The lesson I gleaned from this experience was that we shouldn’t get so stuck in trying to control the ways in which we are going to be comforted, or fixed, or reassured, or loved to sleep. When we do the “deep Let-Go”, the Universe gives us exactly what we need. I slept incredibly well last night. I don’t recall any negative dreams. I feel comforted. I feel reassured this morning. It turns out that last night, for me, Marconi Union’s “Weightless” was “the most comforting, reassuring thought in the world,” and it is not even a thought. It doesn’t even have words. Last night’s comfort came from pure sound. Be open to every amazing resource available to us, friends. Keep the faith. We are loved. We are protected. All is well.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
