Brave, Anyway

Tag: bravegirlwannabe

  • Forty-Six

    Forty-Six

    When I was younger I used to wonder what life would be like when I was 20 and then 30 and then 40. Although not as often because life is just a little too chaotic, I still sometimes daydream about what life will be like 10 years from now and 20 years from now. I think once you have children, and your life is no longer about just you, it’s almost hard to imagine too far forward because so much of your life is wrapped up in who and where they are going to be. So I just imagine things like one day I’ll live in the Cosmopolitan and I’ll be able to walk somewhere after work to have sushi and a glass of wine and I’ll never again think about lawn service options or how to remove goldfish crumbs from the tiny crevices around my seatbelt buckles.

    Younger me was so very wrong about forty-something life that I’m guessing I will adopt children at 60 and restart the process of battling with little humans about why we must bathe regularly. Not only did younger me not imagine having children, she did not understand that aging is more about growing in understanding and empathy than it is about wrinkles and falling asleep in a recliner. She also did not realize that as you age, your vision and definition of what constitutes an old person is updated – when you’re 25, 50 seems old but when you’re 46, 50 seems not old at all.

    But the biggest things young and silly me didn’t expect are probably these three truths:

    • Life is significantly better when you’re past the selfish years of youth.
    • You don’t really even begin living until you can just embrace who you are and relinquish your cares about how you look and what others think.
    • Absolutely every feeling pales in comparison to the ones you experience in a moment of realization that prayers were answered.

    Forty-six. That’s how young I am now. That’s how old I am now. That’s my current age.

    I’m a week away from owning my own home. Just me. All by myself. Only money I earn paying the mortgage each month. Only my name on the title and deed. For a long time it’s just been me making the mortgage, but behind the scenes two names were on all the paperwork. No more. And IT. FEELS. AWESOME.

    I may look tired some mornings, but I am likely feeling invigorated. I regularly fall asleep in the middle of Anderson Cooper, but then wake up in the middle of the night and sit down to research or read or write. It’s solely my job to set goals, to get myself motivated, and to put in the effort. Only I am responsible for goals and dreams accomplished, or goals and dreams daily back-burnered for another day. So it’s OK if I look tired, because I am getting stuff done.

    I no longer think twice about how I look in a bathing suit. I have scars. I’m not a tan person. If my thighs or arms look like I had donuts after dinner, it’s probably because I did – because I long ago realized that Kate Moss was wrong and warm Krispy Kremes taste better than skinny feels. This body grew and fed little people. It’s survived some serious trauma. It doesn’t need to change in any way, or look like it’s 25. It’s not 25 any more. Our bodies should tell the stories of our experience, not of our insecurities. And I will play with my girls on the beach because it’s fun and because I need to show them that the only thing that matters about their bodies is what their bodies can help them accomplish while they’re on this earth.

    I have sand in my car and drive it around for weeks that way. I have stuff sitting on counters, without a real place to go, until finally the counter becomes the home for the stuff. I host last-minute sleepovers and the kids are all OK even though bedroom floors have baskets of clothes sitting on them and we eat takeout and cereal.

    Basically, I am a recovering OCD-er.

    Many of the things I used to consider important are now not important at all, while things never even in my frame of reference at 25 are of the utmost importance now. I am keenly aware of the relative small amount of time that makes up the childhood years of the two young ladies who call me Mommy. I have so little time, really, to provide them with a home and a foundation that’s peaceful and happy and grounding and safe and fun. This is actually their time, not mine. So perhaps the biggest difference in what I imagined and what is actually forty-six is that my days are not about doing and watching and experiencing and accomplishing things that are about me. What makes me happy is so much simpler than I ever imagined – it’s simply hearing them laugh and seeing them happy.

  • One Corner Piece

     

    Regret and Accountable.

    These two words have been running around in my head for months. Some days they are louder than others, but their noise is an almost constant hum in the background of my life.

    I didn’t behave inappropriately with someone else, I didn’t and don’t hide from all the people who might judge me or hold me accountable, and I didn’t and I won’t ever make excuses for behavior that is inexcusable.

    But you know what I did do? I ignored all the signs that something was very, very wrong in my marriage. I dismissed my ex and attempts to discuss issues because I just didn’t have any more effort to give to anything. I chose to focus on other people and things as the top priorities and that, in part, resulted in my divorce.

    When you have to suffer the consequences of your choices, it sucks – but as adults we do that and then pick ourselves up and move on. When you have children, and those children suffer the consequences of your actions and inactions, it’s the absolute worst feeling of failure and regret and accountability, and you just can’t shake it.

    Good parents can’t prevent chaos of all kinds and protect their children from everything, but they can stop themselves from creating chaos in the lives of their children.

    Regardless of how angry I have been and can still sometimes get at other people, the truth is that two people are responsible for the challenges my children have faced. Me and their Dad. Because as their parents, we are fully accountable for everything. Until they’re adults, we are the CEOs in their life. It was our job to provide for them and to protect them and to do our best in all things and to give 110% to family each day. It was our job to carefully control the influences in our lives. It was our job, and our job only, to set the example for them.

    I suppose all Moms and Dads have regrets. And secrets. One of my secrets is that I don’t regret getting divorced. Is it wrong to be happy about something that caused pain for your children? Is it wrong to feel free?

    I have known for a very long time, since the beginning really, that if I had to go back I wouldn’t make different choices. I would prioritize the people I prioritized. But I realized something new today. Something important. Something life-changing, really. A corner piece in this giant puzzle. One of the people I really need to forgive in this whole mess is me.

  • What is Winning?

     

    You win. #winning. Win-Win.

    What does it mean to win? Outside of sports, where there are clearly defined rules and generally a person or team has a better score, what does it mean to win?

    Search Twitter for #winning and you’ll quickly see that winning is political and we have redefined it as proving someone else wrong, appearing to be in a better position than someone else, and general one-upmanship. Search Instagram for “winning” and you’ll find everything from people drinking beer to people liking their outfits to people asking their bird to congratulate the Raptors to people showing how they decorated something.

    I’m not convinced this bird is really a Raptors fan, but he’s cute.

    How they decorated something. Their body, their house, their dog or cat, their car, and even their political argument. Winning has become about decoration instead of function. It’s become about how we look to others instead of who we are.

    Our outfit may have cost $500 but if it covers a body we don’t love or a heart that chooses self and hurts others, are we winning? Our house may have nice things and decorations for every season but if it’s holding bad energy from the past (and present) or we have to hide in it, are we winning? If our country has your preferred political party in power but our retired citizens and military veterans cannot access medicine they need, are we winning?

    Our “winning” news and media feeds should be filled with examples of acts of love and bravery and courage and resilience. Pictures of scars that show a healing. Pictures of people helping others. Pictures of leaders trying to find compromises. Pictures of people rebuilding. Pictures of people who’ve succeeded despite something.

    My girls both won awards this week – one for dedication to academics, arts and service and one for most improved student. I am so ridiculously, incredibly, smiling-from-ear-to-ear-while-crying-happy-tears proud of them and I don’t have adequate words to express it. These particular recognitions are significant because, really, they are about resilience. And while I’m over-the-moon happy they are resilient, I can’t kick the feeling that they never should have been put in a position to need to be this kind of resilient this early in their lives. The ugliness that forced their resilience is not decorate-able.

    The thing of which I am most proud is how they each responded to the recognition of their achievements. In separate events where they didn’t see how the other behaved they were both happy and proud, and they were both humble and cheered on and hugged their classmates who were also recognized. It reminded me that winning is about being a good human and it’s about encouraging others.

    I know very little about sports, and all I really know about the Cowboys is that they can’t be all that bad because they love navy blue and navy is my favorite color. I visited the Ford Center a while back and I learned about the Hail Mary. I’m not sure I think it’s really a way to “winning” but I like the idea of doing something while hoping and praying for the best. I was also introduced to this Jason Garrett gem: Fight. Fight to be your best. Fight for each other.

    Because winning is about fighting and trying. Winning is trying, and trying, and trying again. It is fighting and fighting and fighting. It’s about continuing to fight and try even when we fail.

    Winning is small steps day to day, like taking the stairs up to the office. Winning is big steps, like finishing a marathon. Winning is refusing to hide. Winning is embracing our scars that show healing. Winning is forgiving. Winning is helping others. Winning is having the courage to ask for help. Winning is collaboration. Winning is not focusing on self. Winning is not looking for winners and losers. Winning is being real with others, without hiding under any decoration. Winning is loving and being loved without any decorations.

  • Why can’t we be strong sooner?

    Why can’t we be strong sooner?

    On my way to pick up the girls after work yesterday, twice I waited through stop light cycles as emergency vehicles went flying by. The first I ignored. The second made me pause.

    Two so close together? Something is really wrong.

    I was sitting at the light just next to The Farmers Market and my awareness really kicked in because the police car was in the far right lane as it was approaching the intersection. And then after a couple of moments, I breathed a sigh of relief as the police car turned left across all the lanes of full traffic. I was relieved because left was away from my daughter’s middle school, and although she shouldn’t still be there at 4:30 what if the buses were running late again?

    I was relieved because the police were going away from my daughter’s school. It is unacceptable to me that I even had those thoughts and feelings. Why do we live in a world where parents can no longer send their children to school with confidence in their safety?

    Actually let me correct that – why do we live in a country where parents can no longer send their children to school with confidence in their safety?

    2018 School Shootings by Country

    A Half-Century of School Shootings (NYT)

    A little while later, the girls and I were just finding our friends at Relay for Life when a friend texted me about an active shooter at the courthouse. My first thought was that it couldn’t be that bad because there’s a police headquarters right there on the same land – officers are all over the place and would have been all over that guy in a second. Last night when I learned the magnitude of what happened I realized how fortunate our city actually is. Police were right there and reacting immediately as things happened. How many more people would we have lost if this had happened in another location?

    I turned to my teenager when I read the text and she was doing something on her phone. Did she know yet? There will be no getting around talking about this a lot – it’s happening just 5 miles from us. In fact, she did already know. She knew, and had moved on to other news and social media because this kind of event is sad but not shocking or show-stopping for her. This news is a norm in the world she is growing up in.

    The hashtag VirginiaBeachStrong makes me proud and it makes me angry. Why can’t we start being strong in the areas that could help prevent these things from occurring? Why can’t we be strong when we vote, supporting candidates who support mental health care and background checks and reforms? Why can’t we be strong about a commitment to finding a compromise on gun control? Why aren’t we willing to put our strength into finding a compromise that shows that our commitment to life and quality of life is more important than our commitment to allow anyone to own any kind of weapon?

    Why are we just perpetually stuck in an argument about what we can and can’t have and what medical conditions we will and won’t help with, and then relying on each other to be strong when the guns we won’t give up end up in hands that kill our family members and our children and our neighbors?

    Inaction has real consequences. Our inaction when people are treated unfairly brings us here. Our inaction on access to guns brings us here. Our inaction on access to mental health care brings us here. Our inaction to destigmatize mental health issues brings us here.

    Our inaction and our selfishness and our obstinance brings us here. The days of waiting a respectful amount of time after these events to talk about these things are long gone. These events are happening with such frequency that if we always wait, it is literally never a respectful time.

    The time to be strong is now, not just because we must because of what happened yesterday. The time to be strong is now because we must take how we feel right now and use it as fuel to do everything we can to address this problem in our individual communities and states, and in our nation.

    We need to be strong sooner. Much, much sooner.

    God Bless the families and loved ones directly impacted. God Bless our Responders and all the Helpers. God Bless all the people afraid to go to work today and tomorrow and Monday. God Bless all the parents talking to children about what happened. God Bless all the people impacted by events before this one that feel acute pain today. God Bless Virginia Beach.

  • Lessons While We Wait

     

    I witnessed a hit and run last week.

    In a span of about 40 minutes, I saw slices of the worst of humanity and the best of humanity. The worst was an angry young man, screaming and cursing at the man whose car he hit. The best was a soft spoken older man, determined to put peace out into the world instead of more anger.

    After realizing he was physically OK and calling the police to come, we stood under a large shade tree and talked about humanity and peace and water and reciprocity.

    If we do not focus on our peace and put peace out into the world, we cannot ever expect to be filled with peace.

    Water purifies and it baptizes and it cleanses and it is a blessing.

    We get back what we put into things, and our investment of time or money or peace yields greater time or money or peace in our lives.

    It’s amazing how many core beliefs a Muslim man and a Christian woman have in common.

    Since that encounter, I’ve been thinking about reciprocity and how what we invest is what we can expect to manifest. At times in my life I have given with the right intentions and a pure heart, and at other times I have given with the secret expectation or hope of getting something specific in return. Perhaps that’s human nature or perhaps I am selfish and superstitious. Or perhaps all of it.

    When Audrey was just a few weeks old, I saw a commercial for St. Jude. I don’t remember the content exactly, but it had beautiful little faces and parents with expressions of both hope and worry. What I do remember vividly is exactly where I was standing in my bedroom when I saw that commercial, then sitting down on my bed filled with a feeling of absolute certainty that I saw it at just that moment for a specific reason. And I had a very strong desire to invest in something that helped others, specifically in an area where my child needed help.

    I have no idea if that commitment had anything to do with Audrey’s outcome. Logical Beth who consumes data thinks that her doctors knew what they were doing, and giving is not related to healing. Superstitious Beth will not ever stop supporting St. Jude becomes it seems like bad juju/karma/luck. And Christian Beth really wonders sometimes if that decision was a game-changer in the spiritual realm.

    I’ve thought about it over and over and over again in the last 8 years – every time I am at CHKD, every time I see a commercial for St. Jude, every time I sow a seed of any kind. Are the things we invest in little seeds we’ve planted for a big harvest later? Is it really that simple? And if it’s that simple, why doesn’t that principle override all others? Is there a seed some folks have sown or not sown that results in sickness within themselves or their families? Why are some people healed while others are not, seemingly regardless of their seeds?

    I don’t have any answers. I have only questions that lead to more questions, I have a gut feeling that the seed I sowed that day made a difference somehow in the lives of others and in Audrey’s life, and I have a lingering sense of disappointment in myself for the superstitious parts of me.

    Audrey’s annual oncology checkup has a number of traditions. She plays at the big wave on the second floor. She finds her favorite tile – the art project of a bravo kiddo from long ago – and she runs her fingers over the words Hope, Faith and Courage. We walk through the butterfly garden and have some quiet time. We get Starbucks when all of our checks and talks and papers are done.

    Loading the pictures to complete the order for my photo album, I really noticed the other tiles in the art display. There’s A Giving Tree and there are flowers. There’s one that says God will make a way where there seems to be no way. There’s another that says Bring People Together. And those brought my mind back to my friend from the hit and run. We parted with smiles and thankfulness, grasping hands and offering blessings.

    If we’re open to it, I believe we can find goodness everywhere. If we’re open to it, I believe some of life’s most important lessons come in the time of waiting. Waiting for the police to arrive. Waiting for help. Waiting for a therapy to work. Waiting for healing. Waiting for good news. Waiting for the answers to our prayers.

    Or perhaps simply waiting for the seeds we’ve planted to break through the earth.