When It's Difficult

Gratitudes:

1. Sunshine even on the coldest of days.
2. Good friends who let me vent and gently help me to become a better version of myself
3. Bras that fit really, really well.

My life is consumed with the day job right now. I find myself stretched in all things work/life balance, in knowledge, and in skills. I can't say I'm very comfortable right now and I'm not quite sure how I landed in this place.

I am a generalist. I'm good at a lot of things but not spectacular at many. This has served me well in that I seem to have good job security. And honestly, I enjoy learning new things. I think I need a challenge in order to maintain engagement at my place of business. The down side to being a generalist is that I get pulled into tasks and projects that don't interest me even though I have shown some proficiency with them. Or I am handed projects that,  on the surface,  look like projects I have successfully tackled, but upon closer inspection are different enough that I find myself at a loss. And feeling slow and dumb.

This is where I am right now, working a project that is similar to work I have done in the past, and done well but took me nearly forever to figure out AND this project contains elements that I am unfamiliar with or, quite frankly, suck at.

When I'm not good at something, it messes with my head. I second guess every decision I make, every action. So I'm doing something that's very difficult for me. I'm waving the white flag and asking for help and guidance because deadlines will not otherwise be met. And I may just dissolve into a pile of goo if I don't get some sort of assistance.

Waving the white flag is hard for me. I don't like to admit defeat. And I really don't like it when skills allude me. I'm a smart girl. Why is this so hard? At least I'm not waiting until I get stress induced migraines and fibro flare ups and develop an ulcer before I ask for help this time. Maybe I have grown. Maybe I've actually learned the value of asking for help. I do know I've learned my health can't sustain this amount of stress for very long. So, no matter the reason for my finally raising the white flag, I'm just glad I am.

It's good to know I can still learn and adapt. :)

Tape Me Up, Tape Me Down

And first, the gratitudes:

1. I have actually managed to blog three days in a row. This calls for a fist pump!
2. Hubby is roasting corn on the barbecue. Mmm, roasted corn on the cob!
3. My nook tablet still has the extended warranty so even though the battery is failing, I get a replacement nook for free! 

I had physical therapy this morning and my PT decided that the upper trapezius muscles were overworked and over compensating for weakness in my neck and my lower traps. So, after ultrasound and muscle manipulation, she put four strips of Kinisio tape on my back. It's...strange. I didn't get the neon colors that so many Olympic athletes were sporting in London last summer. It's beige, which makes me wonder if it's a knock off brand.

Anyway, the tape is supposed to help my upper traps relax and remind my lower traps to engage. So far all I have is a lot of pain, likely because I'm more conscious of this muscle group and my posture and am using these muscles in ways I likely haven't in a long time. 

I did some research and there's not a lot of scientific data that this tape actually does anything beyond a placebo effect. I say if it eventually helps my upper traps relax so my upper shoulders don't feel like concrete anymore than who cares if it's from a placebo or some sort of revolutionary treatment. 

The things we do in the name of self care. Hey, I could look like this! The tape, people. There's no way I want to look that ripped. 

Enchanted, Inc. Goes to Scotland

Gratitudes:

1. A somewhat flexible work schedule that allows me to adjust my start and end times to accommodate Pilates classes and lunch dates with friends
2. My good friend J who is the source of much wisdom and challenges me to be a better me
3. Nathan Fillion for being a source of endless entertainment for me. I know we haven't met and likely will never meet, but you have brought great joy to my life, so thank you

I've been reading a lot this summer, which is always fun. The beginning of the year was filled with a lot of self help and personal development reading but this summer has been all about the fun. Not that personal development isn't fun, cuz it definitely can be.

I've been trying to be better about cataloging what I read. I find it easier to do with my ereader because I have the Goodreads app, but I also like to keep my spreadsheet up-to-date so I know which books I own and where they are located. I have been known to buy a book more than once because I couldn't remember I owned it.

This summer was the summer of the re-read. First, I reread Diana Gabaldaon's Outlander with my friend as her daughter was tackling the tome for the first time. Diana's writing has tighted up since that first book, but I found the Outlander to be quite enjoyable regardless. It's not like Ms. Gabaldon was a poor writer or anything. She's been a master at spinning tales and creating amazing characters from the beginning. My desire to visit Scotland has been renewed!

On the other end of the literary spectrum was the Enchanted, Inc. by Shanna Swendson which is a comical fantasy light series about a twentysomething character named Katie Chandler and her adventures with magic and magical creatures. What makes this series different and compelling is that Katie is a magical immune. Magic and illusions don't generally work on her. This makes her a huge asset to the magical community because she can tell when someone is trying to get away with something. The series consists of seven books and there is adventure and quests and dragons and romance and Merlin and New York City and Texas and....well, it's a great series that doesn't take itself too seriously and is filled with excellent storylines and characters you want to root for.

I read the first two books after the second book came out and then read the third and fourth books as they were released - all in trade paperback. Last summer I discovered that Shanna was releasing more books in the series so have been purchasing them and holding on to them to read some day in the future. I was in desperate need of something fun so rounded out my ebook collection and started reading from the first book. So much fun! I'm a little sad that after book seven there won't be any more Enchanted, Inc. stories. Still, I'm so ver glad Shanna dreamed up this fun world and wrote these books!

I don't know what I'll read next. I may go back to one of my personal development books or finish reading about the dark side of change management. Sounds fun, right?

Give A Little Thanks

It's been an interesting year without my father-in-law. Family dynamics definitely shift when a parent dies. And mourning is unique to each family member. This has caused some tension and has allowed for some opportunities for growth. The anniversary of his death came and went without fanfare, everyone remembering their father, father-in-law, grandfather, uncle in a way that was honoring to both is memory and the mourner. I think this is right. There's no right way to mourn and the only wrong way is to not mourn at all.

As for me, it's been a year of introspection and an evaluation of various relationships in my life. A common theme has been gratitude. I know I have posted before about gratitude and even started posting some things I'm grateful for on this blog. And then I took a hiatus from blogging here in any regular fashion. I won't say I'm back but I'm ready to start blogging more than I have been. And I want to start with regular gratitude posts. My goal is daily but given my schedule I'll be happy if I have four posts a week. :)

When I was a therapist, one of the cognitive techniques we used with clients who were depressive or anxious was to keep a gratitude journal. The purpose was to start to shift thinking away from constant negativity loops so the client could begin to see the world through a different perspective. In other words, this was a cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) exercise. I think everyone can benefit from CBT at different times in their lives. You don't need to be depressed to need a little help in shifting thinking away from something that isn't a positive benefit.

So, I'm considering the next little while my mini-journey into CBT and am using gratitude as a way to help my focus my thoughts on the positive. As Nathan Fillion once said somewhere, I think it was MySpace, take time to spread some positivity into the world. Well, that starts with gratitude. And yes, I just sort of quoted Nathan Fillion. Live with it. *grin*

Three things I'm thankful for today:

1. A local medical group had a mini health fair today and I scored fresh veggies! Roasted corn on the cob is now on the menu for tomorrow.
2. My new copper farmer's sink is in and even though I mistakenly rubbed off the protective wax, it looks so pretty.
3. Someone dreamed up colored highlighters. Whoever you are, thank you for making my work day more fun through color.

What I Did This Weekend

We went to the family cabin this past weekend. Cabins are wonderful things - when you are a visitor. This particular cabin has been in my husband's family for now three generations. When his father owned it, he was in charge of the expenses and maintenance. My husband and his brother would assist with the physical labor, but by and large, other than cabin opening and cabin closing, the work wasn't overly time consuming. The cabin wasn't owned by us. Our usage was always based around my father-in-law's schedule. We were, in essence, visitors. 

Now that my father-in-law has passed away, the cabin is legally owned by my husband and his siblings. The brunt of all the work, all the decisions, all the labor, and all the expenses fall to this collective group. And their families. I was struck anew by the amount of work it takes to maintain a cabin. This past weekend was the first time anyone had been up to the cabin since it was winterized and closed up last fall. There were mice to evict, cobwebs and spiders to destroy, a general closed up odor to air out. Surfaces were scrubbed with Clorox. The sinks, tub and toilet were also scrubbed and de-spidered. Cabinets were emptied and dishes were washed…with Clorox and hot water. Pesky mice - they will pee on anything! Trees that had fallen over the winter were dissected and converted to firewood for next year. The yard was raked. The screened porch assembled and the dock was wrestled into place. Then there was the start of the cabin inventory - what needs to be fixed and in what priority; what items in the cabin can be given away or tossed; what items need to be purchased. 

This took a looooong time. I kid you not. And we're not finished. For years the cabin has been the happy dumping ground for anything that was no longer wanted at my FIL's house. And for his father before him. You can imagine what kind of things we found. Ancient coffee percolators that don't work. A food processor that predates my birth. Plastic Raggedy Anne and Andy place settings that no on uses. Enough lawn chairs to outfit a battalion of parade observers. A set of bathing trunks that have seen better days. And this is just some of what I found in the kitchen and one closet. I lost steam around the time my hands started to permanently prune up due to exposure to water. 

It's going to be a long summer. Every time we come up there will be something to fix, another drawer or closet to inventory, and more wildlife to convince they belong outside. I had a moment when I was inside washing mugs and glasses that have never been used in the eighteen years I've been a part of the family. Is this what cabin ownership is going to mean? We work hard on our own home only to turn around on weekends and head three hours out of town to work on the cabin? Are we never going to be able to relax? Ever again? 

As I was having my private breakdown, I noticed the bird feeder just off the back door and the kitchen. The bird feeder is on a post and is supposed to have two clear panels that are open about an inch on the bottom. Feed fills the feeder and birds are supposed to perch on it and eat the seed. At some point one of the sides had broken and it's now a little cave on a pole. One industrious robin has built her nest in the feeder and has layer several eggs. I watched her as she cared for her eggs, sitting there keeping them warm and safe. Then I noticed some chipmunks roughhousing in the wood pile. And when I sat down to look out at the lake, I saw my nephews, pretending to  help my husband and his brother wrestle with the dock. The joy on their faces was priceless. 

Sure, being a part owner in the cabin is going to mean more work than we're used to. But it's still a retreat for family. It's away from the city and on a clear night, the sky is awash with stars. The only noises you hear are your neighbors and the occasional boat or car. It's peaceful here. And if can also be full of laughter. As it was last weekend. 

Cabins are wonderful things, when they are filled with family and laughter. 

Scaling Back

I never want to leave unorganized crap behind for someone else to deal with. Grieving the lose of someone you love is hard enough without compounding it with having to go through every piece of their life and decide is it garbage or is it a treasure worth keeping.

After my FIL died, my husband and I spent a lot of time at the family home. His stepmom wanted to get the house ready to sell and sell quickly. My husband spent most of his life before marriage in this house, as did two of his three siblings. You would think the house would have been full of family keepsakes. It wasn't. At least not those types of keepsakes. You see, his dad and step-mom had been prepping to downsize for a few years and had culled the home of the children's possessions.

No, we didn't go through old yearbooks and arts and crafts. We went through years of documents my FIL had kept from EVERY JOB HE EVER WORKED! Every church directory that ever crossed his path. Reel-to-reel audio tapes we can't even listen to because he kept the tapes but not the equipment. Ten computers, most of which were so out of date no one wants them. Plus, every last piece of computer software the man ever installed. Or purchased. Or received free in cereal boxes or from AOL. I kid you not. We tossed so much crap from this house. And that's just his stuff. My step-MIL also had books, cookbooks, paper products, exercise videos and paraphernalia, doodads, knick knacks, fake plants.

And then there were the items from the shop. Tools, yes. But not always tools in good condition. Pieces of wire and tubing that were too small to be of any use. Vacuum tubes. Half used caulk and glue. Baby food jars filled with nuts, bolts, screws, nails and more bits of wire.

It took us six weekends to clean out the junk, decide what was valuable and help his step mom set up an estate sale. I'm talking 8 hour days or longer. And while I loved my FIL, the amount of crap he clung to made me itch.

I am a packrat. I get what it is to want to cling to something. Part of this comes from the fear of what if I need it in the future. What if I need that document? Or that book? Or that pice of wire that is less than two inches long? Part of this is laziness. I have better things to do with my time than to make sure everything is organized and put away. No one goes into the office anyway, so what why not let everything pile up? I have a file cabinet, why not stuff it full?

But man, after last fall, I'm less inclined to want to have all this stuff. I took a week off from work over Christmas and during that time I went through all my books and Goodwill is now the proud owner of over 100 of my books. Last month I cleaned out my closet. Twice. The file cabinet is more organized than it's been in years and those piles of papers that were squatting in various rooms and on various surfaces have been evicted.

I really don't want to die and leave a mess to someone else. I guess what I want is a simpler life with less stuff. I won't ever be a minimalist, but I can scale back and know that only the things that matter surround me. I think it's time to bring back Operation Office Downsize and maybe expand it further. Yes, I think that is a very good thing.

Shiny

My birthday was a week ago and for this joyful occasion I decided to treat myself to something I have been lusting after for quite some time, a shiny new Macbook Pro laptop. 

I started saving money for this beauty about three years ago. Every month I socked away some of my spending money into a "replace the desktop or netbook or both" fund. Once I had enough money pocketed, I started to hem and haw about what to buy. I could save money by getting a netbook, but the processing power in those smaller laptops isn't great. Plus, I would need to get an external DVD drive if I ever wanted to play one of our myriad of DVDs on it. Also, it wouldn't really allow me to replace the Apple G5 desktop that Apple hasn't supported since 2009. 

I though about moving away from Apple products altogether. They are expensive and they have a built in obsolescence of about 5 years. Apple isn't as user friendly when it comes to home upgrades of the computer itself. For example, the husband has built and maintains a computer we use as a media center. He can upgrade all of the guts, including the motherboard. In our apple computers, we can upgrade memory and hard drives and that is about it. There just aren't parts to be had, or at least not parts we've found. 

So, given those cons, which were worth taking into consideration, I reviewed my Windows based options. And nothing appealed to me. Sure, I could get a laptop for less money. But it wouldn't be a Mac. 

I finally decided on what to purchase. I'm a Mac girl, through and through. Have been since 1993 when my husband, then boyfriend, introduced me to the joy of the Apple SE, an all-in-one computer that was also sort of portable. The platform, even then, was so user friendly. And while he is now an affirmed Windows man, I will remain loyal to my Apple roots. At least until I am priced out of the market. 

Still, after deciding on sticking with Apple, I took months agonizing over used versus new, Retina versus glossy versus anti-glare displays, solid state drives versus hard disk drives. And there was that small matter of being willing to actually part with the money I spent so long saving. Watching my account go down that quickly was not easy for me. 

It all boils down to making a choice and just...doing it. So, I decided on a new Macbook pro with the anti-glare screen and a whopping 750GB harddrive. No solid state drive...yet. I can always upgrade later, right? 

I've finally moved over much of the files form the netbook and all the iTunes media from the desktop. There's a lot more to go, along with applications to purchase and layouts to explore. It's like having a shiny new toy. My husband teases me and calls my new Macbook my Precious, complete with Gollum-like intonations. I can't help it if my my laptop is prettier AND more functional than his, now can I? 

Things I'm Thankful For

The seventh book in Patricia Brigg's Mercy Thompson urban fantasy series came out today and the millionth book in J.D. Robb's In Death series came out last week. I'm happily enjoying the later and can't wait to start the former.

My friend's son, who is being treated for cancer, is doing well and all signs point to no more cancer. Fingers crossed this is truly the case!

Work upgraded their servers, making it more difficult to connect remotely. They finally resolved this and I can once again work from home. *happy dance*

My birthday is next week and my present to myself is a shiny new Macbook Pro. She arrived today and is all shiny and pretty and better than any other computer in the house. *squee* And, for those people with Facetime on their iPhones, iPads and iTouches, I can now Facetime with you, from my computer. Once I figure out how to do use it. *grin*

A is going to buy me an MS Office upgrade for my new Macbook. In addition to other birthday goodies he has planned. He's so sweet.

I was able to get my birthday off of work and have planned some fun things for me: a birthday breakfast at a restaurant that has the best GF pancakes; a birthday mani/pedi; birthday lunch with a friend I haven't seen in ages; a massage.

I will be 42 in just over a week. Yes, that makes me happy. I have survived another year and given the events that occurred last year, I don't ever want to relive 41.

I have rekindled my love affair with Doctor Who and am happily not at the EPISODE with Rose. At least, not yet.

It is warm and snowy and sunny out and I have books to read, a dog to cuddle and hot cocoa to drink.

I am loved, not for what I do, but for who I am. And isn't that a wonderful thing.

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Updates and Such

It's been an interesting week. The weather warmed to lovely temperatures - which means it hovered around freezing instead of trying to mimic the Arctic. A huge storm missed us by heading east instead. Sorry, Chicago! The vintage china tea service that was shipped to me from Canada went on a lovely trip bouncing back and forth between Calgary and Louisville. It did finally end up in my possession and all the pieces are in excellent condition.

Husband decided he needed to help me maximize space in my new bookcase so more shelves will be built. Don't tell him this, but I kind of played dumb so he would do the hard work for me. What's a husband for, right? As a reward, I made him a lovely homemade pot roast dinner last night and he has been getting homemade cookies since he decided to dig out my stand mixer a couple of weeks ago. He's my hero. *grin*

Other than than spilling hot cocoa on my lovely grey cardigan this morning, things have been fairly quiet. I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop but crossing my fingers that after ten months of chaos things will settle down if just for a little while. If we can get through my birthday without any serious incidents or illnesses, I will be ever so thankful. Just two weeks. That's all I'm asking. Well, that and an easy way to remove hot cocoa stains from cotton jersey. Maybe world peace. But seriously, hot cocoa stains? Anyone?

Snow - Killer of Blissful Commutes Everywhere

Last winter we didn't have a lot of snow. I think it lulled everyone who lives here into complacency because this month has been full of the fluffy white stuff and while it looks gorgeous, it's playing havoc with my commutes. I grew up in the mountains where winters were long and snow was abundant. I know how to drive in ice and snow. Others around me do not.

It's not like snow storms are freakish occurrences. It happens. Every. Year. Multiple times over the course of a winter, even. And yet people forget they need to slow down a little and that slamming on the brakes is nothing less than a recipe for disaster. No, everyone wants to drive at their usual breakneck speeds down the highway, talking or texting on their cell phones, not paying attention and then slamming on their brakes when they realize the light turned read or the cars ahead of them have slowed to a crawl.

This is when accidents happen. So when it snowed last night and continued to snow this morning, accidents were inevitable. And accidents meant my commute suddenly went from a blissful 15 minutes to an unnecessary 45. I know there are people who commute for this amount of time or more every day, twice a day. I used to be one of you. But I paid my dues and now live 15 minutes from work. Which, as an aside, isn't always a good thing. Especially when everyone who works further away thinks the reason I'm late is because I slept in, not because I got caught up in a winter storm accident tsunami on my way to work.

I love snow. I love how it coats the world in a pristine crystalline white. I love how trees and grasses and shrubs take on new personas under the marshmallow pillows of snow. I adore watching my dog run and snort and track all sorts of creatures,  both real and imaginary, through the snow. The world becomes quieter somehow, and things are just a little more peaceful for a time.

Now, if I didn't need to get into a car and ruin my love affair with snow, all would be right with the world.

NaNo or Go Home

It's that time of year again. National November Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as NaNoWriMo.

I have attempted to complete a novel during NaNo. I've also finished some projects during the November writing marathons. And I've completely ignored NaNo knowing I didn't have the time to do the job well. If at all.

This year I have been struggling to connect with my next story. I've started a few, attempted to plot another and nothing is grabbing my attention. Until last month when I was journaling and suddenly I was writing this scene about a woman who died and is being brought back to life by a man who should be dead. Very supernatural. Very dark. And it wouldn't let me go.

I rushed the scene off to a friend this week asking her if she thought there was anything there. I don't know who the narrator is. I don't know anything more than that scene and the sense it wasn't time for her to die, but other forces wanted her out of the way. Desperately.

Oh, color me intrigued! And a little disappointed. I was hoping to get back into contemporary romance mode. I have nothing against paranormal romance or urban fantasy. I love the stuff! But I have been wanting to write a contemp romance for a long time. Have a few roughly etched out. I love a good relationship story and long to tell one. My muse has other ideas.

I'm getting over my disappointment. It will only kill the kernel of the story I do have. And I'm reminded that character and relationship is story in genre fiction. Yeah, I can do this and tell a relationship story. It may not be that contemporary romance I was longing for, but it will be the story that has me by the throat. And in the end, isn't that better?

So watch out NaNo, I'm coming at you with nothing more than a scene and a desire to see what happens next.  It's time to throw caution to the wind and write!

Friends and Gentle Reminders

I was out with a friend for lunch and we got to talking, as we do, about marriage. Our conversation moved into the territory of leaving and cleaving, needs and choices.

A healthy marriage consists of communication, positive conflict management and each partner having their needs met.  This is where I'm selfish. I want my needs met but I don't always see my husband's. We have lived in the chaos of renovations and higher education and work and life for so long, I think I've forgotten to really see him and his needs. And I interpret how he makes "requests" of me as attacks, as judgement or as a need to control his world. I forget that he needs structure and a certain level of order to the chaos. Me, I don't see the mess around me. I'm learning this is a coping mechanism and not how I actually function best, but I don't see the chaos. I survive despite it. 

So as my friend and I were talking and I shared with her a story about lemons, a kitchen sink and my husband, she gently but firmly showed me that my reaction to the situation was rather passive aggressive and that my husband likely needs some structure that I haven't been providing for him. She shared with me a different way I could have responded that would have met my need and given my husband what he needed. Instead of the push me pull you of relationship dynamics, I could have responded in a way that would have acknowledged we both have needs and we both know how to compromise in order for those needs to be fulfilled. 

We have a relatively healthy marriage, but even in good marriages there are things that need to be addressed and areas we can improve. Some behaviors that are getting in our way. Every marriage needs check-ups once in a while. A good physical where we can see potential issues or warning signs and head them off before they can take root and eat away at the foundation. 

I was reminded I need to really see my husband. To voice my needs instead of fuming at the status quo, and be willing to have some give and take that isn't all or nothing. That is, instead, partnering. These are not new concepts to me. There have been times I've been very good at these things. And times like now when I choose to act in a less than partnering manner. 

To change the patterns we are forming requires a willingness to change  behavior, and the willingness to have some difficult conversations instead of letting things slide. I can't change my husband's behavior, but I can change mine. I can't change his perspective, but I can work on mine. I can't make him share with me, but I can choose to share my needs, wants, thoughts with him. 

There are choices in every situation. They may not always be great choices, but there are choices. Letting things slide can lead to victim thinking (I had no choice, I can't change things, there's no point), or anger and resentment. Change which choice we make and we can instead work to build a stronger relationship. 

Lunch was good. The firm and gentle reminder was what I needed. I'm very grateful for friends who are willing to speak the truth. It helps me grow. And in turn, I hope it will help me as I continue to nurture and grow my marriage and my other relationships.

7 Lines from the 7th Page

 A little fun from Kait Nolan's blog. The perfect fun for a day when I'm feeling anything like fun and games. Ha!

Instructions:

1. Go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next seven lines as they are – no cheating
4. Tag 7 other authors

From page 7 of TIW (yes, it's a little more than 7 lines):

When I was a little girl I thought I could see fairies. Ethereal and menacingly beautiful creatures with feathery wings and shining auras. I would never engage them, never talk to them or attempt to play with them. But I could see them out of the corner of my eye. Waiting, watching. 

My mother saw me once, softening my gaze as I looked out over a fountain in the middle of the town we called home at the time. The fear on her face was enough to keep me from ever speaking about what I saw. My gaze has been clear and crisp ever since. 

I don't know enough people who will want to participate to tag anyone, so if you're reading this and you would like to play along, please do! And let me know in the comments so I can support you in reading your 7 lines on page 7. :) 

When It Gets Scary

 I'm a writer. I'm not published but I do write. And I've reached something of an impasse with my self-esteem. I'll be brutally honest - this story scares me.

I know why. I don't think I'm a talented enough writer to pull this story off. The complexity of this story shakes me to my core. It always has. I've attempted to write in various incarnations. In one I had the motivation wrong and threw in characters who didn't need to be there. In another draft, I attempted to downplay the portions of the story that truly frighten me. In a fast draft, I actually hit The End only to realize the story doesn't really end at this point and is likely a trilogy, I'm still not clear on motivation and my characterization falls flat.

I am now taking Discovering Story Magic with Laura Baker and wish the class was longer or my work life was less busy or I could be on vacation while attempting to get to the heart of this story. I went into the class willing to change everything. Every. Last. Word. Heck, I was willing to change my characters as well. Which is a good thing, because things, they are a changing. I'm still scared. Scared shitless that I will never be the skilled author I need to be to tell this story. But I'm working through the fear and not letting it get to me.

It would be really easy to walk away from this story and move on to something else. In fact, I may write another story while I continue to work on this one. I may have skills I need to develop before I can truly tell this tale. That's okay. I want to identify those skills and work on them. I think about authors I admire and I have to remember they all had a learning curve. Heck, Nora Roberts wrote shorter category romance before tackling Eve and Roarke or her more complex single titles. JR Ward started in single title and category romance before she started writing her Black Dagger Brotherhood series. Jill Shalvis wrote for many, many years before her latest series (which I love with a capital L).

What I'm trying to remind myself is this - writing is a learned skill. Every mistake, every misstep, every solid plot line and every completed book allows me to learn more about the craft and what it takes for me to write a book. I'm not my favorite authors. And I'm not where they are on their writing journeys. I'm me and I am where I am.

Yes, this story scares me. Does that make me a horrible writer? Only if I let the fear win.

I haven't forgotten to think about what I'm grateful for. This week, it's easy.

1. Laura Baker for her insight in plotting and brainstorming and her ability to understand what's in my head and verbalize it in a way that makes sense
2. Farrah Rochon and Cynthia Justlin for their enouragement as we all walk this road called writing
3. My favorite authors who continue to show me it can be done 
4. My mom, who has a birthday today! I'm so thankful she's a reader and taught me to love stories

Of Mice and Migraines

I'm not sure what triggered it, but I was down for the count Tuesday with a migraine. I can't take medication to help assuage the pain and suffering that comes on with a migraine. All I can do is lay still in a room devoid of stimuli and pray for the pain the stop. Fortunately, I don't get these very often.

As I was coming out of my migraine hell I was suddenly grateful for the pain. yes, this sounds really masochistic, but the pain in my head and the inability to do anything, anything at all, reminded me how blessed I am to be a relatively healthy human being. It also reminded my how thankful I am that I work somewhere that won't fire me for a periodic unplanned absence. And that I have the sick/vacation time to cover such incidents without financial implications. I have a quiet dog that will sleep through the day when he senses I'm in pain. I have a husband who encourages me to take care of myself.

I didn't feel so grateful while under the influence of the knife digging it's way through my eye or the searing pain that occurred whenever I moved my head. It was after the experience that I was able to look back and be thankful.

This got me thinking a little about failure and gratitude and how some of the most impactful lessons I've learned have been spawned from failure. How I wouldn't be the person I am today without those experiences. I would rather not have to go through the pain to find the gift, but I have a feeling that's part of the human experience. So after I'm through the pain of failure, I can be thankful. Not for the pain, that's crazy talk. No, thankful for the gift I found on the other side.

Which brings me to the mice. No, they don't really have anything to do with my migraines but they did offer me another opportunity to find a gift in a shitty situation. We had mice in our house years ago and would not have been aware of their presence if one of them hadn't decided to nest in my make-up bag. I'm not the most fashionable of women and I rarely wear make-up on a daily basis. One this morning, I had decided some of my feminine armor was imperative and I opened the drawer in the vanity only to find my make-up brushes had been desecrated and my make-up was now the foundation for some rodent's defecation. Disgusting did not cover it.

We cleaned out the drawer, set traps and Mountain Man searched the foundation for cracks or holes to plug. We eradicated the mutant rodent threat within the week, but that didn't fix the fact that on a day I felt I had needed it most, my urban camouflage had been gunned down by the enemy.

It took me a couple of weeks to figure out the gift in the situation. It wasn't the trip to MAC for the first time in my life to get big girl cosmetics. It wasn't the fact Mountain Man figured out how to keep malevolent mutant rodents from entering our house ever again. It was how I handled myself in the situation I thought I had needed my cosmetic armor for in the first place.

Without going into detail, I had a meeting with a woman who always looked chic and pulled together where I always felt dumpy. I was going to at least try to play to her level in an attempt to even out the field, but the mutant mice thwarted my plans. I was an emotional mess as I anticipated this meeting, angry at the mice, angry at the timing, angry, anxious, frustrated in general that it had to all coalesce on this one day where I desperately wanted everything to go right.

The meeting was about to start when I decided it wasn't worth it. If I couldn't persuade this woman that my ideas to more efficiently organize the volunteer program were brilliant, then she was just to narrow minded to see good ideas that weren't dressed up in designer clothing , expensive make-up and perfect hair. I pulled on my big girl panties and walked into that meeting with my charts and outlines and presentation. And she took one look at me with my pasty face, Target dress, and sneered. I pushed through, knowing I was right and I had a good idea and attempted to persuade her with reason.

My documentation was fantastic and when she stopped looking at me and looked at the numbers, she started to listen. Sure, she offered me the same snide comments about my appearance as she usually did, but she actually took me seriously and allowed me to implement some of my ideas.

Those mice, they started off the perfect storm that led to my realization that good ideas should, and can stand on their own. Would I want to live through the emotional roller coaster again? Hell, no! But what I learned after that experience has been invaluable to me.

Gratitude is easy when you're grateful for things that bring you joy or feed your passion. Gratitude amid the shit storms that occur in life is so much more difficult but is often even more powerful.

Magnum P.I. and Me

I periodically suffer from migraines and the wee dark hours of the morning one decided to wrap its cold dark arms around my head and squeeze. So I decided to fight back and sleep in.

Once I came out of my drug and pain induced haze, I decided some form of sustenance was required, stumbled to the kitchen to contemplate my nutrients options. Cereal, that always works for the after migraine munchies. As I looked in the fridge for milk, a rogue thought pops into my head, "Hmmm, I wonder what's on TV?"

Sunday is not known for great programming so I turned to a station that faithfully airs old syndicated TV shows. Imagine my surprise when Tom Selleck winked at me from across the screen. I had a moment of girlish giggles and then I settled in with cereal in hand to what what I assumed would be a comforting blast from my past.

Imagine my shock and horror as I realized that:

a) It's never clear why this magnanimous and anonymous Robin  allows Magnum to freeload off his estate. And where do I find such a fictional person to allow me to live the life of a kept woman? No, really, someone tell me please.

b) Magnum is hounded by flashbacks to Vietnam and yet this definite sign of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is never discussed in a healthy manner. Nor does it seem to impair Magnum from making a living as a P.I. And why is he named after a firearm anyway?

c) Hawaii is apparently overrun by the criminal element but still a damned fine place to live.

d) Tom Selleck in painted on jeans or short shorts is not as sexy as I remember him being.

I couldn't reconcile the poor writing and plot holes of the episode unfolding before me with the eerie appeal of Tom Selleck, who was the main reason I watched Magnum P.I faithfully in the 80s. It was almost hypnotizing the way it sucked me despite the trite dialogue and slow pacing. If you took out the "dramatic pauses" and one or two of the twenty thousand red herrings you could get the show down to a nice action packed half hour.

As my migraine haze burned off I starting thinking about one of my unpublished stories and wondered what readers reactions would be to some of the scenes I included for artistic indulgence. Would they be as sympathetic to the plight of Jordan and Quinn as I? Or would they want to throw the book against a wall and leave it there in a heap? Was I really being witty and charming in my writing or did it all boil down to trite dialogue and lame plotting?

Just as I felt the migraine creeping back in I heard a character from a previous book whisper in my ear, something she did quite often when I was writing her book. Yes, I know its strange, stranger still to admit I hear voices in my head. I'm an author damn it! I'm supposed to hear things.  Jordan insisted on telling me that I can't please everyone. And that this is the story of my now, not my future.

Apt words. Jordan is so smart.

Seriously, that little voice is right. We grow and we mature, I hope. As we do, what we find to be inspiring or even entertaining changes. In my teens Magnum was sexy and charming in a little boy lost sort of way. Today he could tip the scales toward irritating and whiny in a Peter Pan complex kinda way. What I look for in literature and genre fiction has changed. I look for deeper relationship connections and less preaching. I look for subtle themes as I no longer require a baseball bat to the head to get the importance of some stories. I like diversity in plot and I like to see characters grow as a result of their journey.

And some day I will grow beyond my current skills as a storyteller and look back on what I have written and wonder what was so amazing about it. That's growth, and honesty. And we need both to be inspired.

Acknowledge, Apologize, Amends, Repeat

Sometimes I can be an idiot.  And sometimes by being an idiot I can do such stupid little things that can really impact relationships.
Take this weekend for example. I was coordinating an event and had asked a friend to help out. She has an expertise I do not, so being the smart, intelligent woman I think I am, I asked her to provide her expertise for a portion of this event. I had every intention of paying her. Every intention of asking her ahead of time what I should set aside for payment. Instead of following through on my intention, I let it slip in between the other details of getting things ready.

Then Saturday came, again with the intention of making sure my friend was paid for her expertise, and excellent work. And still my brain let go of this very critical item. It occurred to me after the fact, too little too late.

I hate it when I feel someone has taken advantage of me. It rubs me completely the wrong way and can get in the way of relationships. I try to not be that person and it shamed me to know I had been that person this weekend. If I felt that way, how much worse did my friend feel?

What do we do when we realize we hurt someone and put our relationship on the line?

I don't know about you, but I worry about it and often let it fester, forgetting that the quickest way to initiating resolution is to acknowledge, apologize and make amends where amends can be made.  I don't know if it's human nature to dwell in that space where I know I've done something wrong and hurt someone to the point where all I can see is the worst case - she will hate me; there's no way to make it right; how can he ever see past this - but this is what I do. Have done it ever since I can remember. Maybe it's the writer in me, telling myself stories about what's happened instead of seeking the truth of the situation. Maybe it's my lack of confidence that whispers to me that once trust is broken it can never come back. Maybe it's my own past experiences raising their ugly heads. Regardless, it's not all about me and by staying in that negative space, the worry and actions become just that - all about me.

So last night, as I thought about my friend and surrounded myself with my issues, I stopped myself and what I needed to do became clear as crystal. I got over myself and decided to do what I needed to do - acknowledge, apologize and make amends. I have to trust now that when my friend says everything is okay, that everything truly is okay. And I need to take this life lesson and remember that when working with anyone, make sure expectations are discussed up front so everyone is on the same page. I know this. I live this in other areas of my life. I let myself forget this in the busyness that became my life as I was coordinating this event.

I would like to say I'll never forget again. I can't make that promise, even to myself. I can say with absolute conviction that I will be more intentional, especially when engaging the services and expertise of people I care about.

Acknowledge. Apologize. Make amends.  It doesn't always resolve issues and sometimes trust does need to be rebuilt. Or our picture of a person needs to be refocused so we can see past the hurt.  Owning up, being sincere and attempting to right the wrongs is definite movement toward reconciliation.  So are those two simple words - I'm sorry.

How I See Me

I heard a song on the radio today. I mostly listen to talk radio when I drive to and from work because if I don't I'm flipping channels and not paying attention to the road. And if you've seen me drive you know I need to pay attention to the road. This morning, because I hit the wrong button on the car radio, I ended up listening to a Bruno Mars song. A song I've heard before on Glee but haven't caught Bruno singing. First, Mr. Mars, you have a new fan. I will be rushing out to by your CD later today and I will be cursing the fact I didn't budget to go to your concert! I may have to see if I can get rush tickets because, boy, you're amazing!

Back to the story. As I was driving and listening to this song, it was almost as though I heard a voice whisper in my ear, "Pay attention to the lyrics. It's important." So I set my eyes on the road, turned up the volume and listened. And cried. Not wept, just teared up and had damp cheeks.

Songs don't usually hit me where I live. I can find lyrics that are meaningful but it's the instrumental pieces that move me with deep emotion. I felt polaxed by the simple, open lyrics of this song by a man young enough to be my...very young cousin. *grin*

I struggle with feeling beautiful. I struggle with feeling cherished. I'm married to a wonderful man who I know loves me. We've been married for so long I sometimes think we forget to tell or show each other every day just how much we love. How amazing the other person is. I also have a history of being that person who spent her life on the outside looking in. So I struggle sometimes feeling a lot less than perfect and definitely not beautiful. Not as I am in this moment, anyway.

Women often don't see themselves the way others see us. We see our percieved faults and forget the beauty - be it internal or external. We can allow our insecurities to shade our self-view. And we're masters at comparing ourselves to other women. And coming up short with what we see.

I know I'm a master at this game. I play it cunningly and very well. Where I should be my own best cheerleader, I'm my own worst critic. I can see the beauty in other people, and I love to share that beauty with them. I fail, however, to be in tune with what makes me unique and beautiful and amazing.

So when that voice whispering in my ear told me to listen, and I did, I found myself listening to the words I know my husband and friends have told me over and over in the past but didn't sink in because I had too much baggage, too many barriers. And I found myself crying.

If you haven't been living under a rock you know the song I heard this morning on the radio. You may think it's a fun pop song - and it is. I hope you stop and listen to it, really listen the next time you hear it. This song has a message all women who are loved need to hear. That we are wonderful and amazing just as we are. That others see us and see beauty and perfection. That those things we don't like about ourselves may just be some of our best assets. Especially when viewed through the eyes of someone who loves and cherishes us.

If you haven't heard the song, or paid attention to the lyrics, I suggest you do. If you're a man who loves a woman, keep telling her how amazing she is to you. I promise, some day she will start to see herself through your eyes. 

Just The Way You Are - By Bruno Mars

Verse 1
Oh, her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they're not shining
Her hair, her hair, falls perfectly without her trying
She's so beautiful, and I tell her everyday
Yea, I know, I know, when I compliment her she won't believe me
And it's so, it's so sad to think that she don't see what I see
But every time she asks me, do I look okay, I say

Chorus
When I see your face, there is not a thing that I would change
Cause you're amazing, just the way you are
And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for awhile
Cause girl you're amazing, just the way you are, hey

Verse 2
Her lips, her lips I could kiss them all day if she'd let me
Her laugh, her laugh she hates but I think it's so sexy
She's so beautiful, and I tell her everyday
Oh, you know, you know, you know I'd never ask you to change
If perfect's what you're searching for then just stay the same
So don't even bother asking if you look okay, you know I'll say

Chorus
When I see your face, there is not a thing that I would change
Cause you're amazing, just the way you are
And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for awhile
Cause girl you're amazing, just the way you are

Breakdown
The way you are, the way you are
Girl you're amazing, just the way you are
When I see your face there's not a thing I would change
Cause you're amazing just the way you are
And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for awhile
Cause girl you're amazing, just the way you are, yea

Today I'm Thankful For...

I started off today grumpy. Has nothing to do with turning 40 and everything to do with daylight savings time robbing me of a precious hour of sleep. I'm always grumpy a few days after we change to daylight savings.
Instead of being grumpy and bringing the people I share an office with down, I decided to intentionally find things today I'm thankful for. This ties back to my posts on gratitude here and here. While I haven't been posting daily the things I'm thankful for, I have been keeping a journal. I'm forced to be a little more creative with each day to find those things I'm thankful for and to be authentic with what I choose to highlight.

Today proved no different. I could write a list of the things I'm not thankful for without even thinking. This wasn't going to help my mood so I went to the office kitchen, made a cup of green tea and let myself sink into thought.

Here is what I came up with:

1. I'm thankful for the opportunity to learn and grow as a professional through projects as large and complex as the one I'm working on now. Without these opportunities I think I would sit back on my accomplishments and stagnate.
2. I'm thankful for people who have my back and are willing to let me know when I missed something or have made an error - before I go too far down a path that would lead to sticky results.
3. I'm thankful for authors who write about the redeeming power of love and show me through story that at the end of the day it is love that saves all.
4. I'm thankful my muse isn't fighting with me anymore and that I'm making progress on my stories even if my plotting is still my weakest link. I can fix plotting. I can't fix a blank page.
5. I'm thankful laughter is contagious.

I looked at this list through out the day as I was tempted to sink back into feeling grumpy and low and behold it is now 5pm and I'm ready to head home with a smile on my face and a lightness of being.

Hmm, maybe there's something to this gratitude stuff after all.

Contemplations on Goals and Birthdays

I turned 40 today. Don't worry, I'm not about to jump off the edge of reality and fall into the mire of midlife crisis. I'm actually looking forward to this milestone birthday. I hear from many friends that they really started to shine in life when they reached 40. I'm hoping this is true for me, as well.

While I'm excited about 40 I'm feeling reflective today. 40 is an exciting age to be. I'm excited for it. I welcome it with open arms and a huge smile.

I also approach this new decade looking back. I was thinking about this yesterday. I'm at midlife, unless I live to be 100. I haven't accomplished some of what I hoped to by this point in my life. Some of that is because goals and wants and needs changed over time. Some because I realized the goals I had set were not in any way realistic.

40 also means that there is less time to do some of the things I had wanted to do by now. Since I'm in that reflective mode and want to see opportunities rather than loss, below are my thoughts on a couple of the big items.

I am not published - by a formal publishing house or self published. I wanted to have several published novels under my belt by this time in my life. I don't. I have several unpublished novels under my belt so while I'm mildly disappointed I don't feel I've missed the mark with this goal. Until the last year or so it wasn't realistic to self-publish in any way that would allow the author to actually make money. As for a traditional publishing house, that is up to the whims of the powers that be, not up to me. I will continue to pursue traditional publishing but I think I will also find a critique partner this year or a mentor so I can grow as a writer. If I'm good enough I may pursue self-publication. This is not lost time. This is the right time and I firmly believe that.

I haven't traveled beyond North America. I want to travel to Tuscany, Venice, Ireland, Scotland, London, Bath, New Zealand, Thailand, Japan, and many additional places. I haven't. We bought a house that needed much fixing up and that is where our money and time has gone. I had hoped that by now we would have at least one trip under our belts but no. In the next 5 years my goal is to have at least 2 overseas excursions beneath my belt - with or without the husband.

I wanted to have a coaching business by now. I recognize that a couple of things have stood in my way. I'm not certified by any of the BIG certification programs and that makes me feel I should get certified before I build my business. It's more a CYA thing than a competency thing, but it does keep me from moving forward. Choices around where to spend money have continued to bump this down the list but the husband and I have an agreement that once the house is done (please let it be not too much longer) we will have the funds to pay for certification. Yay!

I also know nothing about running my own business and honestly am a little freaked out about not having a consistent paycheck. In the next couple of years along with a writing mentor I want to find someone who has been there and built their business to see if they would be willing to mentor me. Knowledge is power and my fear is based on not knowing. I may always have at least a part time job but it would be nice to remove the fear and barriers to see if I can really make a go of coaching.

Those are my big items and as I approach 40 I can see with clarity what I need to do to move forward with these dreams and take them to the next level. I don't think that has anything to do with turning 40. Or maybe it does. Maybe with age comes that crystal clarity and as I approach a milestone marker in my life I recognize that life isn't forever and if I want to take dreams into reality I need to make conscious and actionable goals. Or maybe it's just I needed to grow up more in order to really truly reach for these goals.

Either way, I'm now 40. I'm excited and while a lot of life has been lived, there is so much more life waiting for me. I'm looking forward to seeing what doors open.