Being Available...

My sweet little woke me up at 6 AM, asked for a bucket, and promptly emptied the contents of his poor stomach into it.

In another, earlier version of my life, I would be rushing out the door to make a meeting at the office, juggling instructions to the caregiver (au pair) and feeling rotten that my baby feels rotten and just wants his mamma. Today, I got to caress his forehead, hold the bucket, wipe his face with a cool washcloth, and check on him throughout the morning.

What a privilege that is.

I am in such a battle with myself about being busy enough, being productive enough, earning enough and securing enough future earnings. But part of why I'm here, right now, in THIS spot, is because my family needs me to be available. It's a gift.

I struggle to balance the accelerator of go-go-go against the slower, dragging pace of be-be-be. Sooooo much "should" at work here. The ugly "S" word.

Today the should was small. I heard it. I felt it. I put in a few hours of project work in answer to it. But should didn't rule my day. Today I was grateful that I could be available for my littlest one. He needed me. I needed to be the one he needed.

What would my life look like with this continuous flexibility of being here when I'm wanted or needed? Envisioning that is a powerful exercise. It's me, having a creative outlet to build something, create something (THE BOOK) and turn that into a means to help support my family (yeeeees, I know you're not supposed to create something for money or it kills the purpose, but I have strong enough purpose behind my idea that it will hold up, and I need my dream to be full of abundance thank you very much). I love the vision of coffee with my hubby in the kitchen or on the deck each morning, my office space rich with inspiration, ours dogs sleeping by my feet, me pouring myself into the keyboard, and my littles coming up to hug me hello after they get home from bus stop.

PER-FEC-TION.

Giving myself credit

Rachel Hollis has her conference attendees create a letter to themselves, from the perspective of their persistence, to shed light on just how accomplished each of them is.

Because we forget to acknowledge that. We're too busy telling ourselves about all the stuff we haven't done, all the things that we are NOT. We loose sight of how awesome we ARE.

Some of this questing has given me time to reflect on what I've accomplished. And that has been refreshing. So much of my identity was, for so long, wrapped up in being a successful career woman, that when I got laid off it imploded so much of my sense of worth that I've had to rebuild my image of  myself. I am rebuilding the image I have of myself.

Sure there's a ton of work to do. Sure I have a list a gazillion miles long of the ways I want to better myself. But I am not starting at zero. There's some good gritty stuff under this belt, and remembering that should only serve to fuel my confidence that I can achieve so much more - that I can decide and then I can do.

I am becoming, in more ways today than I have for a very very long time. Because of this awareness and this hunger to learn more and achieve something that I will be proud to look back on at the end of my life. AND - I can stand where I am right now and say, "Hey. You paid your way through college. You left a unique mark on the healthcare industry. You battled through tough family evolutions. You didn't give up on a dream and gave birth to beautiful babies. You can do a frigging headstand in yoga. You are badass. Keep on girl."

Right Here. Right Now.

Where'd I get this idea that stability and security is a thing? That I should freak out because I don't have the next 6 months all planned out with confirmed, guaranteed project income?

Responsibility, I get. Yeah, you can't just wing it and expect your family to have a smooth go of things. I'm not talking about adulting. I'm talking about being present, right here, right now.  At the dinner table. In the grocery line. On the sidewalk chatting with neighbors. Lying in bed next to my spouse. This is life and there is no cliche guarantee of anything except that we get one shot.

As a child I was always leaning into the future, desperate for more freedom and access to privileges. Always in a hurry to grow up. Always seeing a future that was better. Did that become a habit? When is it okay to stop leaning and just stand?

Right now. That's when.

Getting Unstuck

I almost didn't go.

I cancelled out of the class actually, and then 20 minutes before it was scheduled to start I tore around the house trying to get ready fast enough (damn cast) and showed up just as class was starting and had to hunt for an open space.

I almost didn't go, because I was so pissed and sad and uncertain about my injury. But then I decided, "Now or never," and threw myself into the studio. And I'm so glad I did.

Shannon had an amazing class that I could actually do most of, and the message she decided to share was about getting stuck. Getting stuck and taking a moment, before freaking out and maybe getting MORE stuck, to think about what might really be needed. Like maybe a slower speed, or spinning the wheels a bit to gain deeper traction, or a change in direction, or maybe even a little rocking back and forth to gain some forward momentum.

Somehow, having an injury peeled back my coolness, my take-for-grantedness, my closed-up-mindedness, and made me hear the message in it's raw, pulsating form. Yes. I have been stuck. So stuck in the muck and tired of spinning and not sure which direction to go but sitting still scares me to death so I keep whirling around, clawing at mud, desperate to find higher ground...and I needed to hear that it's okay to pause. To consider. That spinning wheels might not be the right thing. Maybe there's a different way forward.

So breathe. Cry. Consider. Let go. See the horizon and give it a bit. Let the dust settle. Maybe the path forward is just clouded by all the ruckus.

Putting in the work

Passive pursuit doesn't cut it. And I'm a bit lazy these days.

I think I'm waiting for something to shine down from the heavens and lay out a perfect pathway that I can simply step onto. I don't have a strong compulsion for anything in particular, beyond yoga. And I envy those who have "made it" and live cush lives in lovely homes with exciting travel agendas.

I'm like the worst kind of envious. Because I don't have any drive to chase down a dream, which is how those folks "made it." They worked their asses off. I sit here and long for ease and luxury. For vibrant purpose. I wait for my dream to emerge.

Maybe I'm not lazy. Maybe I'm just lost. I jumped on a track all those years ago because it "appeared" and it occupied me for two decades...but it didn't light me up and now I'm tired and a little disenchanted.

Okay a lot disenchanted.

How do I find my joy???? I don't want to waste this life! Where do I start digging? Gimme a shovel and I'll get after it. I am ready to put in the work -- I just need to find the pursuit that lights the fire in my belly.

Back in the saddle

Okay. Regroup. I am not a quitter. This is a setback, but it isn't a time out.

I need yoga to maintain clarity. To get out of the swirling in my head and remember how to be in my body and breath. And to help me on this frigging quest.

So I will do yoga, even with this cast, even without the ability to bend my wrist; I will work the poses I can get into and keep my strength up and before long I will be back in action.

No more pity party. There are so many (so many!) ways that I can see this as no big deal. My knuckle will heal. It will work just fine. The empathy I'm building for people with permanent disabilities will stay with me. And the use of my hands, my arms, will mean that much more to me.

Tomorrow is the 40 Days meeting. I am going. And I will release this anger and figure out how to move, and move forward.

Effing Dog

I might actually need an anger management course.

I'm 45 years old, and was never an athlete, so my history of broken bones was ZERO.

But look at me now! Two X-rays on two separate occasions for two equally stupid decisions and my history went from zero to TOO MANY.

I spent the morning full of energy and plans (I was even going to paint!!), and spent the day in doctor's offices with a busted knuckle and wounded pride.

Now I have an effing cast for three weeks, can't tie the drawstring on my pants, and completely threw myself out of the 40 Day challenge.

All because of that 100 pound puppy and my awful sense of timing.