strength – Sweat & Sparkle

Story

I have posted here and there about the difficulties I had after my mom died a few years ago. It was like I ran straight into a massive, sticky spider web, got woefully tangled, and simply couldn’t fight my way out of it.

What I haven’t written about yet is finally, FINALLY, pulling myself out of that web and slowly getting back onto my feet.

I’m still not quite where I would like to be, but I am getting closer, day by day. And after feeling all but hopeless and almost giving up on myself, it’s a triumph simply to be moving forward again instead of sinking further down.

I know that blogging is a dying art, but it occurred to me that sharing more of my story might actually help someone struggling with the same things. So once I figure out how to put some of this into words, I will be back to do just that.

In a few months, I hope to share a major personal victory. It will help put it into perspective to frame it with the struggles and internal warfare I battled through to get there. Until then, I take each day as it comes, put it the work and the effort required to create change, and I appreciate being here another day to see where this day takes me.

Back to Living

I can’t pretend it doesn’t still hurt. It will still hurt for a long, long time, and it will never go away. Losing my mom ripped a chunk out of my heart that simply cannot be replaced or filled. I miss her every day, in a million little moments, realizing I can’t call her, I can’t email her, I can’t plan my next trip to visit her. It’s like a vicious sucker punch that knocks my breath away, and it takes a minute to catch it again, to stagger back to my feet.

But I have grown tired of laying on the floor. Mentally, emotionally, I have been checked out ever since my mom died. Maybe even before that, when I knew what was coming before it happened. I will still mourn, of course, or else I wouldn’t be human. But I feel like I got stuck, dug myself into a pit that I couldn’t get out of and wasn’t even trying.

That wasn’t helping anyone, especially me. A thought flashed into my head this morning: taking care of myself is like honoring the way my mom took care of me. Who knows, maybe she nudged that thought into my thick skull to help me shake some sense into myself. I believe in spirituality and some form of life after physical death, so maybe she is still looking out for me.

I am going to drift back to things that made me happy. I have so many hobbies, so many interests, so many sources of joy that I have abandoned, feeling too overwhelmed to even think about them. Well, it’s time to think about them. It’s time to think about my loved ones. It’s time to think about me. And it’s time to get back to living.

Battle

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this quote. My husband and I have tackled far more than our fair share of “obstacles and interference” over the years. It’s even fair to say we have gone into full-on battle for our relationship. We have both faced false allegations, insults, badmouthing, underhanded onslaughts, childish cheap shots, and endless varieties of hostile and belligerent behavior.

Our high crime? Being happy. Loving each other. Being honest. When people’s lives and hearts are void of love or integrity, they can’t tolerate seeing someone else being happy, especially where they have already personally failed.

It’s funny, though: all the attempts to make us stumble, to make us fall apart, ended up pulling us closer together instead. He’s more than my husband. He’s more than my best friend. He’s a fellow warrior. He’s my comfort and my refuge.

Almost 16 years later, I remember the first time his hand touched mine, the first time we kissed, the first time we held each other. And I still smile, because I knew even then that he was different. He felt like home. I already knew I would never let him go, as long as he still held onto me, too.

On second thought, I don’t want to laugh or cry at this quote. Instead, I want to smile. I want to love. I want to appreciate even more everything that my husband and I have battled for, starting with the most cherished: us.

Complainer

This quote made me laugh, not because it’s funny, exactly, but because it fits pretty much everyone I know, including myself. Can anyone honestly say they have never complained about something, and then did nothing to change what they were complaining about?

After a while, though, complaining should get old. No one else wants to hear it endlessly, that’s for sure. And you should grow weary of constant negativity from yourself without any action to implement change.

It’s easier to complain. It’s easier to bemoan a situation than to exert effort to bring about real change. But at some point, you have to take full responsibility for your own life and your own circumstances. You are not a victim if you have made inaction a habit. You are a volunteer and a slave to your own problems.

That’s a lecture just as much for myself as it is for anyone else. I have been shaken out of my inertia and have been slowly but surely making changes in myself and in my life, and I am much happier. There are still things I want to tackle, challenges I’ve set for myself, goals I want to achieve. The surest way to reach none of it is to do nothing, and I simply refuse to sell myself or my loved ones short by giving it anything less than my best.

Thankful

I love fall. It is, by far, my favorite time of year. I love the exit of humid, sweaty days, the long-awaited introduction of cool breezes, chilly evenings, the invitation to snuggle and cuddle.

In the middle of dusting off Halloween decorations and pumpkins, and digging out comfy sweaters, I find myself just stopping. Thinking. Watching.

My life is not perfect. I have hassles, stressors, and aggravation just like anybody else. But I am glad that I have learned to focus on what I do have and appreciate all of it.

I love my husband, who is my best buddy. He makes me laugh. Just the sound of his voice makes me smile. He’s always there with open arms for me to fall into after a long day. I couldn’t imagine life without him at my side.

I love our home, which is perfect to me, and we spend each day making it all our own.

I love my new job and knowing that each hectic day, I am helping people who need it.

I love that everything I have, I have worked for and earned. I love knowing my life is 100% my own. I know quite well that not everyone can say that, no matter how old they are, and I hope, for their own sakes, that my stepkids eventually learn the pride and strength of truly standing on their own two feet.

I don’t have a mansion, an expensive sports car, a luxury wardrobe, or diamonds dripping from every inch of my body. And that’s just fine with me. None of that is important to me, anyway.

I have love. I have laughter. I have warmth, security, pride, honesty, integrity.

That is a lot. And it’s all that matters to me.