All That Is Next…

When my daughter was learning how to ride a bike, I removed her training wheels and set out with her, determined that she would ride that bike within the hour. But instead, my kid got all whiny and crabby. Her 5 year old self had realized learning a new skill is hard and she wanted it to be easy. So of course: drama.  But I was resolute! I was staying positive and upbeat with lots of “You can do it!” and “Come on! Don’t give up!” while I was running alongside her holding on to the back of the bike, keeping her upright and trying to get her to build some momentum. I was not going to give up!

At least, that is, until I lost my shit.

I threw up my hands and as I walked away I said, “Fine. Give up. But if you want that bike to come with us, you’re going to have to ride it back to me.” And I left her ass there.

I didn’t have any grand plan, I was just pissed. And I knew what I was doing wasn’t working. So I stormed off.

You know where this is going, right? After she realized that yelling after me wasn’t going to get her anywhere, she picked herself up and got on the bike. Next thing I know, I hear some panting behind me, and here she comes, clumsily along, but she’s riding the damn bike. And I start offering a little encouragement, the kind that let her know I was still in Pissed Mommy Mode. But she’s doing it, and she’s sort of laughing and crying and concentrating really hard, but she’s doing it all by herself. 

We went up and down that path a dozen times with me running next her. She started building more speed and getting more confident with each pass so that eventually I couldn’t keep up. I went back to cheering with lots of “Look at you!” and “You’re awesome, man!” and it was a great little scene. I knew she felt a little like a bad ass, maybe for the first time.

Later, as we packed up her bike to head home, she took my hand, looked at me kind of sheepishly and said, “Thank you for using tough love on me, Mommy.”

It’s one of my favorite mom moments ever.

I was thinking about that today, and got to thinking how sometimes we gotta use that kind of Tough Love on ourselves. In the battle between Head and Heart, we are told Follow Your Heart. Yet sometimes, Heart is stupid. So, Head needs to step in. Here’s where the showdown begins.

We can see clearly what we should do and how we need to get there yet we find ourselves kicking and screaming and not wanting to go that direction. Heart wants to stay, but Head knows that it’s not really going to end up with Heart getting what she really wants in the end. Heart might be afraid of letting go because: pain and suffering. But Head is thinking, yeah, only if you don’t let go, there will be pain and suffering I’m pretty sure.

This is me right now. Heart is sort of having a little tantrum. Heart is being a little stubborn. Heart is trying really hard to get her way. Basically, I keep looking back over my shoulder at what Heart wants. And I keep putting myself in the situation of needing to let go – again. My head keeps trying to get my attention. And my heart keeps saying, “Yeah, but…”

So. Time for me to Tough Love myself, right? Truth is, we can’t always follow our heart. Sometimes, we have to drag it with us in the direction of something else. Our heart often wants something that just isn’t meant for us, so we have to firmly tell it, “No, Dear Heart. That’s not for you right now no matter how much you might want it.”

I want to believe in signs and feelings and “meant to be”. But sometimes your heart will keep you stuck in a place that isn’t going anywhere all because you want that thing so badly – so you start allowing for things that you never thought you would. All because of Heart’s Desires.

When you find yourself compromising over things that are important to you, or trying to shush the little voice in your head that’s getting louder every time you let your heart convince you “maybe this time it’s different”, or letting yourself be content with crumbs, then you know it’s time. It’s time to stop looking back. It’s time to look forward, and keep looking forward. I know it’s hard. Heart can be pretty convincing about this stuff. But, People, you know when something isn’t working. You know when you have to just turn around and start walking, and wait for Heart to put her ass on the bike and ride it in the direction of forward, clumsily along until finally: momentum.

Yes. Sometimes, you need to make your heart follow you instead…

 

 

Have you ever thought about if you have a hero? Like, right now, in this moment, think about that word – hero – and who comes to your mind?

When we are little, we have the standard issue Superheroes. Superman, Batman, and my personal favorite, Wonder Woman. (Side note: we need more women superheroes, but that’s another story…) (Side side note: Wonder Woman is THE best super hero, still).

As we grow up and learn that fictional heroes are, you know, fictional, we start to look around for real life heroes. Maybe a celebrity who embodies our idea of perfect, or an author who inspires us with a book, or closer still, teacher who helps shape us and our view on the world. As our scope on the world grows, we begin to realize that heroes actually come in all forms. And that’s what I’m thinking about today.

I have a student that I have worked with for about three years. He is 10. Soon, he will undergo surgery because, among other things, there is a hole in the wall of his heart. When he was born, the doctors didn’t think he’d ever be strong enough to have this surgery. Yet, here he is, about two weeks away from one of the most important days of his young life.

This little man has struggled through most of his days. It’s hard for him to breathe because his lungs don’t function properly, so he isn’t able to participate in many of the activities most 10 year old children can. He has to watch from the sidelines. I’ve watched him watch, many times, as the other kids run out to play for recess or PE. Most kids complain about PE, right? But you should see they way he looks at them; all he wants is to be able to run and play alongside the other kids.

Dominick is my hero. For the way he has fought every single day of his life, just to be here. For the way he endures lungs that don’t cooperate, the medication he must take just to be strong enough to walk, and the shitty way that medication makes him feel. For the way he accepts that this is the hand he was dealt, and that he can’t run and play at recess or PE. For the way his spirit stays up most of the time, even when he doesn’t feel well, because that’s just who he is. For the light and laughter and love he has brought to my life, every day since I’ve known him. I’m telling you, this kid is a treasure. Everyone should have a Dominick in their life.

And then, there’s Ron. Nine years ago, my brother Ron passed away unexpectedly. He had just turned 39, not even a month before. Ron died of a heart attack. At thirty-F***ING-NINE.

Ron was a hero. Not just MY hero, but a BONAFIDE, ACTUAL HERO. He was a fire fighter, the Chief of our local volunteer fire department, and he had been working there since he could drive. His funeral was the most breathtaking thing I have ever seen – the processional from the fire station to the church went on for at least two miles.  Children and adults lined the streets as we drove by, saluting my brother. The church wasn’t big enough; they had to set up screens in an overflow room just to hold all the people who came to say good-bye. It was astounding to my family and me. To know he had had that kind of an impact on so many others, well…it brought us a comfort we didn’t know we would find after such a devastating loss.

Ron was a hero, for real, though. Many times, he saved lives when he was off duty. Once, a Greyhound bus crashed off northbound HWY 101 in the early hours of the morning as Ron was driving  home from work on southbound 101. He didn’t hesitate – he flipped his car around, was first on the scene and climbed UP ON THAT BUS to help survivors get out. And that’s just one example of how he went above and beyond to help others. He was a hero in his bones. He’d been crazy about fire and emergency his entire life – I used to have to play the victim when we were kids so he could pretend to “lift me up on the gurney” (folding lawn chair), or bandage my “broken head”, or “bring me back to life when I stopped breathing” (and he really did simulate mouth to mouth…but once and ONLY ONCE!) Ron is gone, but still my hero.

Ron is gone. And that means that, nine years ago, my mom and dad lost their son. What parent can imagine surviving such a devastating loss?

My mom, Jerry, and my dad, Allen are my heroes every single damn day. That they can still get up in the morning and will their feet to touch the earth, and not only go about *a* day, but to go about it and still choose to find joy is the most heroic thing I have probably ever witnessed. They still choose to find reasons to laugh. They still go into the world bravely. They still allow themselves to feel love, and to give love, and they do it even though they’ve suffered a loss so big, it surely crushed part of their souls. Any parent who has lost a child, in my opinion, is the truest of any heroes we might have.  Mom and Dad simply blow my mind, earn my respect, and will never know how much love and gratitude I have for the pair of them, not only for the way they have lived their lives since my brother passed, but also for the way they raised us. Amazing people, my parents.

A hero is defined as “any common person, placed in uncommonly difficult circumstances, who displays uncommonly noble character”.

Do you see what I mean? Dominick. Ron. Mom and Dad. You are my heroes. Each one of you has taught me something about the resilience of the soul and our capacity for endurance. I am filled with wonder and admiration for your strength, your bravery, and your fortitude.

And my heart spills over with love and gratitude for all of you.

May we all find such qualities within ourselves…

 

 

One day, I was kind of sad. So I took a walk on the beach. My beach. The beach that I have gone to since I was old enough to drive myself – to sort things out, to ponder, to run, to play.

Generally speaking, the beach is a good place to go when you’re sad. The sound of the waves and the feeling of the sand in your toes invites you to find something good in the world no matter how shi**y you feel.

As I walked along, I watched the little snowy plovers running in and out of the surf. They crack me up. They make me happy. So I got to thinking about how there are lots of  little things that make me happy. And as I thought about it, I decided I should make a list. Because why not?

Here’s my list:

• My children – especially when my children are laughing
• Pelicans diving
• Little daisies
• The ocean when it’s calm and the ocean when it’s stormy; the ocean in the daytime and the ocean at night
• The sound of babies cracking up
• Puppies
• Dogs!
• Sunsets
• The feeling of accomplishment after a long run
• Bubble baths
• Nature – its varied beauty
• Snowy Plovers
• Sleeping in
• Old people who don’t give a fu*k (like this lady)

• People who are kind to animals
• Elephants
• Uncrowded Disneyland
• True love
• New love
• Enduring Love
• My parent’s love
• Butterflies

• Good music
• A hot shower when it’s cold out
• Falling asleep while it’s raining
• Good books
• Kindness from strangers
• Old friends
• New friends
• True friends
• People who listen
• Fall! 
• Sunshine
• The Moon! Oh, the moon….
• My home
• Love…

And as I headed back home along the beach, watching the snowy plovers run in and out of the waves, with the sun setting behind me, I felt my sadness ebb a bit. Because, you know that list is just a teeny fraction of all the things that make me happy.  I felt lucky. I felt grateful. I felt like even though I don’t have everything I’m longing for, I have all of this plus more. 

I went home, not sad like I was when I set out. Because sometimes all you have to do to change your mood is make a list…

“To sit patiently with a yearning that has not yet been fulfilled…”, to put it plainly, is one of the hardest f*ing things to do in life.

I’m not talking about a yearning for, say, a new car. Or that gorgeous pair of boots you can’t afford. I’m talking about honest to goodness, heart and soul, feel it in your bones yearning. Like, a foster kid yearning for a home. Or a couple that’s yearning for a baby. Or someone like me, yearning for a love to call her own.

Fall, with its crisp evenings, blustery winds, and cuddle-worthy nights makes this yearning that much more keenly felt. I want to be in love with someone. I want someone to be in love with me. And, ideally:  same someone.

In anticipation of the (mostly cliche) advice that is inevitably proffered to a single person expressing such a desire, advice that is certainly intended to make one feel better, let me tell you a little about how I actually do live my life.

I have a very happy, content existence. I have an abundance of love, marvelous children, loyal friends, parents who are active participants, and a healthy perspective on relationships of my past. I live where people pay to vacation and I take advantage of it. I get out and I play. I enjoy my days off, both with and without my children. I have a job I love and I do things that also feed my soul. I have a support network and I know I will never really be alone. Happy and active are two words others might use to describe me, and  a very dear friend recently told me, “You don’t just do single, you kick single’s ass!”

In other words, I’m not sitting here waiting for Prince C to show up.

Yet when I occasionally express SADNESS or MELANCHOLY for not having a partner, I somehow feel like I am not supposed to ADMIT this. I get the feeling that I am allowed to be either happy or sad, but that I can’t be both simultaneously. It’s almost as though you aren’t permitted to be okay -or dare I say thriving-  as a single, and ALSO AT THE SAME EXACT TIME want to find a partner.

“Stop looking, and then you’ll find him.”

“Maybe you’re too picky.”

“He will come along when you least expect him.”

“You have to love yourself first.” (note: personal favorite!)

I’d like to point a few things out. When someone wants a new job, you don’t tell them to stop looking. You don’t suggest that a new job will magically fall into their lap if they “pretend not to want a new job”. I understand the spirit of this advice, but it’s not terribly helpful. Nor is it true. I’m not exactly running around town “looking” for a partner, am I? I’m living my life, doing the things that make ME happy. And as far as being too picky,  I’m not ordering dinner here. I think pickiness in finding a mate is acceptable and even appropriate. Besides, picky and selective are two different things.  I also haven’t been “expecting” anyone, not for a whiiiiile,  yet the right fit has remained elusive. And lastly, I love myself. Crazy about me. I think I am the G*Damn Bees KNEES. So, got that covered, thanks.

Why do people assume that if you’re single or divorced, and if you’ve been that way a while, you must not be doing things you love? Or that you’re looking too hard? Or that you clearly must not love yourself? What the hell is that? Are all married and otherwise coupled people presumably more capable of loving themselves? *insert eye roll*

I am single (mostly) by choice. I left an unhappy marriage because I believed that there had to be more. I believed that I was meant to be in a partnership that felt more authentic, more loving. I believed, and I still do, that being on my own was better than being in a relationship that made me miserable. And in the years since, I have relished my independence, and at the very same time I have continued to long for more.

Guess what? Sometimes, I CRY because I am alone. Sometimes, I feel desperately, horribly lonely, and I yearn for a loving relationship. And I get scared that I may never meet the man who will be as crazy about me as I am about him. It could happen. I could end up the crazy Dog Lady on my street. Maybe.

But sometimes…You guys, sometimes… I come home to an empty house (when the kids go with their dad) and I want to SING because I am so happy to be alone!!  I can’t WAIT to lay all over the couch and watch Friends repeats and eat cereal for dinner and sleep-in and go for a long run – all by my glorious self! I get to do whatEVER I WANT! Also: I have a king size bed on purpose! Just me! I spread out all over that damn thing and I LIKE IT!!

So here’s the nut of the nut. I can be independent and also want a partner. I can be content, and also restless. I can be happy, and also a little sad. I can be confident, and also insecure. I can have faith, and also worry that I may never find the right fit. I can be calm, and also panicked. I can love my life, and also WANT MORE.

There is an inherent duality to our humanness.  We are such a complex mixture of emotions and qualities. I just can’t care anymore if anyone thinks I’m supposed to “not want it so bad”.  Because I do want it. I yearn for it.  I want crazy, amazing, can’t get enough of each other love. And wanting that doesn’t make me a desperate single lady. It makes me HUMAN. A single human who has cultivated a very rich, full life – who would love the right one to come along – not to save her, but to augment what is an already amazing existence.

Hear that Universe? Any day now. Any %$*&^ day now…

Art Cred: Denise M. Casson, Fishing for Love ( buy it here or corndogart.com)

I have been thinking a lot lately about letting go. Confession: it’s something at which I am not so good. But recently, I had to let go of someone that I love and care for very deeply. Actually, there were three somebodies (they came as a package deal). It broke my heart to let go, I didn’t want to let go. I still have a tiny ache in my heart that I think will probably always be there on some level – not just for this let go, but for all the let go’s I’ve had to do in life. But this time, I think maybe I was a little better at it than I have been before.

Why? Well, I have had a lot of practice over the last six years or so. I got divorced, for one thing. And since then there have been a few potential romances that turned out to not be right for one reason or another. (This particular relationship was in the top 3. Ok, top 2. In other words, hopes were UP. WAY).  Even though I was eventually able to look back (with the ever helpful ‘hindsight’) and see clearly why those things didn’t work, there were plenty of times that I wallowed. I asked why. I took it personally. And ok, I may have even had a dramatic moment or two, as in “Why me, God? WHY?” Let’s be honest. When you’re riding the sadness wave, trying to detach your heart, you can go to all kinds of dark places.

But here’s the thing I think I’m finally learning:  People come into our lives and we may want them to stay forever. But isn’t it true that some people are only meant to be part of your life for a season? It can be so hard to see why they have to go, yet I think we sometimes try so hard to hold on, we lose the lesson in all the struggle. Instead of clinging, maybe what we need to do is just let go. And instead of suffering, maybe what we need to do is grow from the pain.

This most recent goodbye made me realize that I must still have something to learn about letting go. Truly, I don’t think it will ever be a strength, but why would I want it to be? I like this about myself. I like that I feel deeply, and that when I love it’s for keeps. I like that I can still fall in love, even though I have been hurt. Falling in love is a risky proposition, my friends. But, guess what? I can’t regret a moment I spent falling for this person, because loving him opened me up…and losing him did too. I am glad I invested my heart. I am glad I jumped in, took a chance, and let myself feel, let myself fall. After all, there isn’t much difference between falling in love and having a broken heart; both crack your heart open wide, let some light in, and give you an opportunity to grow.

I had to let go. Letting go was my only choice.

Except for, wait a minute. It WASN’T my only choice, was it? When it comes to love and attachment, we make all kinds of choices that aren’t healthy (refer to my list above). But that was the difference for me this time. It was the only choice I wanted to make. I needed to sit with the sadness, and the heartache, and the frustration. I recognize that to truly live we have to feel it all, the good and the bad. All those let go’s, they teach you something – if you let them.

Listen, we all get our share of heartache in this life. It comes in all forms, doesn’t it? Sadness is part of the deal. But suffering, that’s a choice. (Please note that I am not suggesting that say, a Syrian refugee is choosing to suffer. There are horrendous things happening in this world every day that cause suffering, and that’s not what I’m talking about here).

What I am talking about is taking your sadness, your heartbreak, your disappointment, and making the choice to feel those things without staying there. To move on …. but without the apology, without the closure, without necessarily understanding why. To let go, to learn, to grow, to know that shitty things don’t necessarily happen “for a reason”. Growing, changing, evolving, and releasing your grasp on “what should have been”, to make room for what can still be.