Midlife Crisis or Bad Country Song?

Hey readers! I know it’s been awhile since my last post and for that, my apologies. This morning a thought entered my busy mind as I was waiting for my coffee, so I thought I should write since the mood had struck me.

The thought that started spinning in my brain was that THIS is what creates a crisis for many at mid-life. What are we to do with ourselves when the activities we once participated in for fun no longer hold the same pleasure? What are we to do when past times we used to enjoy no longer feel like leisure?

Just as most of you have, I’ve traveled the country, visited various other countries, finished many athletic events from triathlons to ultramarathons, bodybuilding and everything in between, created many memories with seven kids of my own, written some poetry. Like my father, a niche has not really been found and careers have been explored but not to one in particular have I been bound. As a teacher, the goal is to touch the life of one student per year, but you never really know who you made a difference for since there’s no numerical value placed during your career.

Life has a way though of hitting us in the head with the realization that the only thing that is guaranteed is that we will die at some point. Friends come and go as life moves us around, and opinions we once had no longer hold any ground. Careers currently last an average of 13 years, so there’s no more working for 30 years at the same company. I’m not sure if this is a bad sign of the times or something to rejoice.

As you know, breast cancer entered my world 15 months ago, and to say that it has changed my perspective on life would be a grand understatement and feels like a kind of plateau. I still “talk” to other drivers on the road when they act like their license came from a Cracker Jack box, and I am still passionate about so many things that others may find a snore. However, the realization that time is shorter than we want to think and it cannot be outfoxed changed what I value most, and it changed what I am willing to fight about and for.

I think the fact that cancer came at 50 compounded this angst I’m feeling. The new scars on my body and new pains in my joints have my mind reeling. I started on another life goal of earning a PhD, and during one of the courses a question was asked for us to ponder. When you die, what will your obituary read? Will it say that you were the smartest person ever, or the most beautiful of your kind? Will they write that you were the consummate professional, or will it say you were the master of no trade? Will they speak about the lives you touched or the amount of money you made?

Peace

~TLT

The Jungle

Walking through the jungle unbidden like a cat on the prowl

She still tastes the sweet viscous blood on her lips from the fights already won.

Meandering without a sound on padded feet, she feels her strength diminish.

 

Inside her head there is a tremendous scream building, but she’ll only yowl

For there’s no purpose in fighting what is meant to be, what’s done is done

And there’s nobody to tell her that the fight is still unfinished.

From the moment her cold, hungry cries entered this callous world

She’s wandered, often alone, battling various demons as she growled

Loud enough for the deaf to hear, yet nobody seemed to listen, even now.

Those who look upon her quiet countenance, have no idea the monster they just met

From the outside she looks peaceful and serene, like an early morning lake

But inside there’s a fire burning, powerful enough to make the strongest man shake.

She fears naught, for there’s nobody left with the power to make her tremble

The darkness is coming, clouding her world with its silent reverie

Fighting to the death is all she knows, as the jungle continues to strike blow after blow.

Salt trickles silently down her cheeks, in tiny rivulets and testament to her pain

In her heart she knows, that her somedays are limited unlike the stars in the sky

The Maker is calling her and someday soon she’ll meet him, in the sweet by and by.

~TLT

Scars

Scars mark this body, and as I continue to traverse these miles of life without a map set forth to guide me, I wonder how on earth anything close to real love can find me. It seems as though, with every twist and turn of the road ahead, there’s a realization buzzing in the back of my head, perhaps I’ll never come to realize the power of the one who loves me. There are no fairytale knights, no goddesses to come and sweep me off my feet. Not that I’m in distress at all, but wouldn’t that be neat?

For so long, I kept thinking that surely some day they’d arrive. Someone would come along and show me that all the scars are irrelevant, and my sarcastic wit is perfectly fine. Now though, after trial and error and a life full of narrow roads wandered, it’s hit me directly in my face like a misplaced brick, I may have run out of time and time has been fully squandered. 

We walk along, meandering through life, and think to ourselves we have plenty of time. But, time waits for no one, and it keeps rolling on like the mountains of the beautiful Sierra. All the while, we go through the motions and take only minimal risks. Absorbing the sun as it flashes in the sky, lighting up our world as time speeds along, waiting for no one to make up their mind about what they should do with this one life. 

As I look down and see the many ways life has marked my body, I realize that every scar and mark tells its own little story. They’re hard to love though, these various places where the body has been wounded without any glory. There’s nothing beautiful about the white stripes lining my body like the distinctive coat of a tiger, and the most recent blaze across my chest has added to the map, crisscrossing my skin like a cross-country trip. 

No longer can I naively say, “some day” there will be “the one” because right now, in the real world, the land of day to day survival, there’s hope for God’s mercy and blessings but not much more. This isn’t pessimistic dear ones. It’s reality at its finest. I’m okay with alone and okay with the silence. They’re both better than forced conversations and the quiet whisper of potential violence. Life rolls on and I’ll keep rolling too. Knowing all the while that somewhere in my still beating heart, I’m silently looking for you. 

~TlT

What Makes Us…

As someone who was born in the early 1970’s, most of my thought processes are considered, “old fashioned” by today’s standards. When talking to my teenagers, there’s definitely a gap between the manner in which I think about life and the way they do. We’ve had heated conversations about the terms, “trauma”, “gender”, “sexuality” because these terms no longer have the same definitions they did when I was a teenager. As we are traveling on this typical journey as a family, other aspects of life that may not be so typical arise, like the road to recovery after cancer created the necessity of a double mastectomy for me.

Before the surgery, I thought it would not be a big deal to not have breasts anymore. As a 50 year old single woman, my breasts have done the job that they were intended for and that was to nurse my children as babies. Now, though, what purpose do they serve? Honestly, they’re a group of glands and fat cells whose primary purpose has expired and are no longer needed. I’m still a woman without them, right?

Here we are now, a week post surgery, and the hand-shaped bruises on my chest have faded away with most of the anesthetic used to make this particular amputation as physically pain-free as possible. The body is healing as it should and soon the pain medication will no longer be needed on a daily basis. When I look at the marks across my chest, what I see are more scars from this life, permanently embedded in my body, and I wonder who will want me now. Now that I don’t have those markers of being a “woman” sitting on my chest, how can I be seen as an attractive human being worthy of anyone’s attention?

What makes us….us? What is it that makes us human? If that’s too complicated of a question, what makes a woman’s body feminine or a man’s body masculine? For obvious reasons, I can’t speak personally about what it means to be male, but the question about being feminine seems to be a relevant one. Do our internal organs determine who and what we are? In other words, if we have ovaries and a uterus, is that the requirement for being female or feminine? What if we don’t have within our body one or more of those items which makes us female, are we somehow less than? How about our external features? What of our external features provides us with the label of female?

The questions are rhetorical, obviously because I don’t expect an answer and honestly, I’m not sure there is a good one. Though my body dysmorphia will be an issue to deal with for awhile, logically I know a lack of breasts does not make me worth less than anyone else. I know in my head, my body is only an external representation of who I am as a person. You see, that’s the bottom line, regardless of the labels anyone places on us or we place on ourselves, at the end of the day we are human beings worthy of attention, love and respect simply because we are…human.

~Peace

Advocacy and Control

As I was thinking about this post and how to narrow it down to make it more palatable, I looked up the definition of advocacy. According to the web, the definition of advocate is to plead on the behalf of others. But, what about self-advocacy? Oftentimes, it’s difficult for people to speak on their own behalf due to social beliefs, ingrained programming from childhood or simply because they have the false idea that to speak up for oneself is to be selfish. As my emotional healing began after the divorce four years ago, there was a discovery that to look out for myself and to be my own human being, with my own ideas, opinions and characteristics outside of being a parent, was not selfish. It was actually self preservation.

Fast forward to January of this year when Covid lightly hit our household. It was necessary for to once again advocate for myself in ways that are uncomfortable and, even unfamiliar for me. In spite of the fact that I am a bit fiery and opinionated, I honestly prefer not to rock the proverbial boat. Conflict makes me uneasy. But, this goes back to those social beliefs and programming I spoke of earlier. When we grow up not ever seeing the people around us handle conflict in a healthy manner, we have very little idea what it means to do so. It’s very often that we learn how to do this on the fly, sort of like on the job training. We learn as we go. The recent diagnosis has really caused me to take a step back and analyze everything and everyone in my circle. Many nights have gone by with me wide awake, dissecting my life under a microscope, and I’ve realized that I’ve become pretty good at standing up for myself and saying what needs to be said, even if it makes me uncomfortable to do so.

In the past, I’d forego the difficult conversations in fear of hurting the feelings of others. I still don’t wish to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I no longer negate my own feelings in order to preserve the ego of others. It’s also come to the light, so to speak, that, despite my best efforts to the contrary, I cannot control everything in my life. As a planner, time keeper, and life manager of myself and several others in my household (not including my students on a daily basis), I like for things to be “just so”, especially in regards to time management.

Here’s the thing about control of anything. It’s an illusion. We cannot control time, nor are we able to control anything else in our lives with the exception of ourselves and the choices we make as human beings. I spend eight hours every weekday in a school building attempting to control the actions of 48 other human beings. Only to find at the end of the day that it’s up to each of those 48 children to control their own destiny via their behaviors. I can guide, cajole, bribe and wish for it to be some other way, but it simply is not.

I can’t control what will happen with this surgery in just over a week, nor do I have any say over whether the cancer stays gone or comes back. My job is to live this life to the best of my ability, control my own sense of “self” then hope and pray the cancer never comes back. I can advocate for myself. I can love my children and those who have stuck with me through all this nonsense, and hopefully be a quiet lesson to others about what it takes to persevere when life continues to slam its boot in your face.

Advocate for yourself and others, but know control is an illusion not worth the time that’s wasted on it.

~Peace

I got one thing right…

You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl. With that said, I have a secret – I like modern country music! One of my favorite artists is Kane Brown. His music speaks to my soul and many of his lyrics are relatable to the lives of most people regardless of where they come from. One song in particular, One Thing Right, hits me in the heart. I’m pretty sure he’s speaking about the woman in his life standing by his side through everything life has brought, but for me, this song resonates in a different way.

When I hear this song, I think about my seven children. I’ve chased wrong things most of my life and been every kind of lost that you can’t find (as Kane Brown sings), but at least seven times I’ve done something right. My children have been the biggest sources of my growth as a woman and mother who did not have any good examples of mothering to emulate.

At 17 years old, when I found out I was pregnant, the number one goal that drove me as a soon to be mom, was to be a better mother to my child(ren) than mine were to me. That’s not a dig on the women who mothered me because now as a “middle-aged adult”, I fully understand that both women did the best they could with what they knew. That was never good enough for me though. I saw their mistakes clearly and knew without a doubt that those mistakes partially shaped me into the person I was.

Yet, knowing everything I did at that point in my life, I was still not a great mother to my four boys. I made mistakes that forever shaped their lives. Despite this painful fact of life, they’ve all turned out to be good men and fathers. I’m so proud of them because, despite the mistakes I made raising them, none of them were so horrible the boys couldn’t bounce back to be “good” human beings. They’re now, 32, 29, 26 and 25, and living their lives as what could be described as “respectable” lives.

At 33 years old, when our first daughter was born, I was self-aware enough to know that changes needed to be made, so I could be a better parent. I thought I was a good parent to the girls, but now I have to wonder if the pendulum didn’t swing too far in the other direction. That’s not to say that they aren’t good teenagers, because even by today’s standards, they are GOOD kids. They haven’t played with drugs or alcohol, nobody has been impregnated (thank God!), and two of the three are great students.

However, considering the fact that they’ve been raised by a single parent for the last five years, they act very entitled and this drives me out of my mind. I have to keep telling myself that times have changed and the obvious fact that they are not me, nor have they lived any of the experiences I have. Without struggle, a different breed of person is created (in my opinion), and there’s no comparison between those who have struggled and those who have not.

Despite this, they are still my greatest accomplishment (for lack of a better term). Amazingly self-aware, intelligent and talented all three of them are. Their presence in my life drives me to be a better person. Kane Brown says, I’ve been wrong about a million times, but I got one thing right…and as a parent, I’ve been wrong at least a million times, but despite this, I got seven things right and they are my saving grace. All of them.

A Fire is Stoked

The curve of your mouth on mine as our breath mingles, suspended in time.

I want to hold you closer as my fingers explore the softness of your skin.

Feel our hearts beating to a rhythm our bodies understand, bringing us closer to the moment when ….

My mind wanders to the feel of your hand holding mine.

The heat of our bodies enfolding in that single moment of a soft caress.

I want to pull you tightly to me, with all barriers removed and show you what it feels like to let it all go.

Breathe into me as I breathe into you. Waiting for the exhale when we both know…

My mind wanders, transfixed by the sensations our bodies create.

Mutually created heat burns from the inside as your tongue explores mine.

Two heartbeats beating in sync to the rhythm felt and words that go unspoken.

Neither of us wanting this to be

Just another attempt to fill the lonely.

Our bodies lay spent and my mind pauses 

A momentary reprieve from the thoughts that are interspersed 

Though the heat of our touch remains, it’s not for a lack of fulfillment

Rather, it’s the caress of a lover aware

That time and touch are all that are needed to once again stoke that fire…

~TlT

Not Yet…

As the days fly by, one after the next

The blurred edges consume me

With all I’ve not done, yet.

Paris, Rome, Italy and Japan

Places I’ve always dreamed of seeing

Before my body takes its final rest.

I’ve always wondered what it feels like

To meet the partner of my dreams

Being happy with your lot in life

Is more elusive than it seems.

Where once there were mountains of spite as fuel,

The tank is now overfilled with regrets,

Of all that hasn’t been said or done,

At least not yet.

The nights roll by, one after another

As I wake, I can’t help but wonder

About all that’s happened so far

And all that has been lost.

How much more do I have to pay and

How much does happiness cost?

Is it only for those sweet natured ones,

The love of a lifetime and blissful forever?

For it seems to me, I’ll find it never.

~tlt

What is Happiness?

As you may or may not know, I’ve written a memoir and am in the process of finding an editor and the like so I can have it published. Of course, part of the process meant sharing the document with my nearest and dearest friend so she could give her honest opinion. She loved the book! Her feedback was positive, though something she said has stuck in my brain like a sticky crab claw. She said, “Where’s the happy ending? You deserve a happy ending with all you’ve been through.”

Those words have been running through my head for the last month or so as I continue to navigate all life has to throw at our family and the world in general. The realization that came to me was, I need to frame this the same way losing at competitive sports was framed to my children. Of course, life is not a game but there are times when it certainly feels as though there’s someone stacking the deck in their favor rather than mine.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of happy moments in my life. It would be a sad state of affairs indeed for us to traverse our path without ever knowing what it feels like to be happy. However, just like in competitive sports, not everyone gets or even deserves a medal or a trophy. Not everyone can arrive at the finish line in first place.

This was a hard lesson for my children to learn, as they’ve grown up during a couple different eras of upbringing. Some of my children learned this lesson the hard way when, at the end of a season, there were no trophies given out because they’d not succeeded at beating their competitors. Sad faces and tears were often presented with an angry storm of words about life not being “fair”.

No, life isn’t fair if that means that we all achieve the same level and type of success at the same time and with the same outcomes. No, life isn’t fair if it means that we are all raised the same way and all become productive members of the society in which we live. I can go on and on, but I’m sure you get the point.

Life isn’t about “fair” and there aren’t any medals or trophies to be had, and unfortunately, not everyone reaches their happily every after – whatever that may be. If a happy ending is like the fairy tales where we meet the so called, love of our lives, settle down and grow old together then I’m thinking my time has passed. Maybe, happily ever after doesn’t include a partner or someone to share this life with. Maybe, my happily ever after is just living in peace with where I am in this moment in time and knowing in my own mind how far I’ve come will just have to be good enough.

So, to my dearest friend, I adore your positive mindset and the wish you have for me to make happy memories for another chapter of my life, but maybe the lesson I need to learn from all this is to be happy in this very moment without any expectation that there is more to come.

~Peace and Blessings

What is Courage?

As I was planning the first nine weeks of my school calendar to include a quote of the week, this particular quote struck me. Francis Bacon said, “I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.”

So, what exactly IS courage? What does it mean to be courageous? Is courage the action police officers take on a daily basis to get out of their patrol car and approach someone they’ve pulled over, knowing any one of those people could have a weapon? We would certainly all agree that firefighters are courageous every time they have to gear up and enter a burning building! Those are just a couple, very specific, examples of courage.

On a lesser scale, we all are courageous to a degree when we get in our vehicle to drive to a specific destination knowing full well that there are many, many distracted drivers on the road. Drive down the highway and count how many drivers you see who are texting or looking at their phones while they’re driving at 65 mph! There are far too many to my liking that’s for sure, especially when I see them swerving between the dotted line and the solid one, often crossing the center. I, for one, try to get as far away from them as soon as it’s possible!

As much as my children get on my last nerve with their incessant complaints about “generational trauma”, their apparent focus on the myriad of labels they require to function in this crazy world and their pronoun usage, they are still courageous in my book. When the 15 year old first came to me and said that they’re transgender, I was blown away. Upon further reflection, my biggest fear was and remains, how the world will perceive and treat them because of it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much courage it takes to tell people that we are anything but male/female, absolutely binary. That’s the way this world generally works, right? At least that’s the case for those of us over the age of 30 or so.

When my children began telling me how they felt about themselves, I realized that perhaps I’d not been living my own truth. I was making decisions about my personal life because of what others might think about me. Not actual fear of course, more like worry, and ironically, I generally don’t really care what others think about me. The more my teenagers and I talked, the more at ease I felt with my own (lifelong) attraction to women and willingness to act on that attraction without worrying about what others may say or think.

Isn’t it sad that in this era we are still willing to deny our own well-being for the sake of others or because we are afraid of reprisals, gossip and the like? Some people even have to worry about their job security because of the way they are born (homosexuality in men is actually genetically coded!!) Yet, despite all that, people are brave enough to live their own truth. They are courageous.

I can tell you that fighting this ridiculous breast cancer is a battle in and of itself. Every single day, people undergoing treatment of one type or another in the hopes of killing the cancer cells have to make the choice to keep fighting. Take the treatment, feel like garbage, start feeling more “normal”, take the treatment. That’s the cycle many of us live. There are days when the demons tell us that it would be so much easier to say, “F’ck it”, let’s live life as best we can right now and skip all this nonsense treatment.”

But, we continue to fight. It’s not the same as being a police officer, fire fighter, EMT or doctor, to name a few, but it is a battle not everyone wins, and it’s also a battle that requires some courage. As the quote indicates, courage is acting in the face of fear. Here I am, here we are, and we refuse to allow you to win this battle!!

The Land Before

Welcome to the land of before

Before my heart wasn’t afraid

To walk through an open door

And explore all the world has to offer, if only you’ll give a little more

time.

Welcome to the land of before

Before the tears and heartbreak

That caused our world to shatter

And the earth to tremble as it all came crashing down in a mighty

shake.

Welcome to the land of before

Before the teenage years of angst

And the confusion running amok

When the world made so much more sense, and you didn’t feel

stuck.

Welcome to the land of before

Before covid came along and

Before cancer struck. 

When the first words out of your mouth weren’t, “who’s giving

up?”

Here we are in the world of after

When ideologies are moral high ground and

Nothing makes much sense

With everyone screaming for attention, but nobody is

listening.

Here we are in the world of after

The teenage angst remains a constant

And sanity is a daily find.

With everyone searching for an answer, but we are all just running

blind.

~t

A Special kind of Parenting Hell

I remember before filing for divorce around five years ago, thinking that life would be so much easier if I was just raising the kids by myself. So much easier because there would only be myself to blame when they acted a certain kind of way. So much easier because there would really be nobody to fall back on when times got tough, and it would be easier to move forward not expecting there to be any support. When you’re married, it’s implied that your partner will be there to back you up and support you. If you’re on your own, you know without a doubt that it all falls on your shoulders. 

For the most part, the last five years have not been too terribly difficult. There were times when I questioned every single decision that had to be made. There were some very unpleasant moments of clarity when the ex and I had to have a “conversation” and it went the same way as every other conversation we ever attempted when we were married. But, all in all, raising the kids has been pretty easy as a single mom, and though I can’t say I’ve enjoyed every single minute, I am proud of the three of them and who they are as human beings. 

Lately though, some new monster has entered our world of relative calm and I cannot say that I like it much at all. This new monster is in the form of three biologically female, teenage people who don’t really like each other or even themselves much of the time, so there are many days when I feel like I should wear a black and white striped referee shirt and blow a whistle for a mandatory time-out when they start bickering. It’s normal teenage stuff mostly and I get it. As the eldest child of a blended family, I understand the normal stressors that are present. 

The other parts of the monster that really spins my head around though, is the one who wants to both stand up for themself and yet please the adults in their life at the same time. The child who plays the two ends against the middle, hoping against hope that something will change I guess. It’s impossible in this world of ours to stand on the fence and not pick a side, and if it is possible to do it should not be done because nothing gets accomplished this way. 

Currently, the other “monster” in our household is one I don’t understand at all and have no way to relate, so it causes an extreme amount of frustration on all fronts. The monster I speak of is almost like a revolution of sorts. All three of the children in my household have come to me at some point in the last four years to say that they are transgender, queer and/or non-binary. 

To me, these are labels that are not necessary in order to live ones’ life because the bottom line is, we are all human beings. However, to my children, it is a huge deal and one that causes a whole lot of hurt feelings. When the kids identify as non-binary or transgender, they now also want to be called by different pronouns and even have decided upon different names for themselves. So, tell me again why their father and I spent months deciding on names for each of them?

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t understand and want to support their need to identify themselves with who they are. What I don’t understand is why they’re so angry about it. What I don’t understand is their apparent lack of understanding that while they feel and believe they are trans or nonbinary, we, as the adults in their lives have to come to grips with all that entails. Heaven forbid if you call them by their “dead” name or insert the wrong pronoun into a sentence relating to them! 

They are deciding who they are right now, in the present moment, while we have to unravel 30, 40 or 50 years worth of binary thinking and identification to accommodate this new era where people who look like girls and were born female are not really girls, or don’t want to be called such. It’s so very confusing because in my mind sexuality is also tied into the gender identify, but it’s not the same concept when it’s discussed with the teens. 

Today, my thought is, if it’s your identity, it’s who you are and you don’t care what anyone else thinks about the matter, then why is it such a big deal if I call you by your birth name? I’m not slandering you or calling you a foul name, so why are you so upset? My love for them is unending, though not immutable, because as each of them grow into the people they’re going to be, there’s a morphing of how they’re loved but not how much. 

Maybe I need to leave that thought for another time! I’ll just keep telling myself for the moment, that these life lessons are necessary for us all to move to the next lesson this crazy world is going to teach us. 

~peace

Identification

I have breast cancer. There, I said it for the whole world to “hear”. But, guess what? Cancer is NOT who I am. Cancer does not define me as a human being. At the same time as these words came to my brain, there was another realization a long time in the making.

I’m also not just a mom of seven wonderful and moderately annoying, somewhat grown up children. This is part of the bigger picture of who I am, but it isn’t the whole of me. I’m not just a teacher of sometimes reluctant, always surprising elementary age students. This is the task and journey I’ve chosen to walk for the moment where I can at least make an attempt at changing the lives of children within my small world – even if it’s only one at a time.

I’m not just a wannabe athlete, bodybuilder, runner and cyclist. These are activities I usually enjoy doing immensely and are actually more of the focus of this post today. You see, though I am not just those words, I have identified myself as being each one of them. Runner. Bodybuilder. Cyclist. Athlete.

Today, I realized that there’s a problem inherent in that identification because it means that I hold myself to a specific set of behaviors and norms as a result. Let me explain. Today, I was feeling fabulous physically and decided it would be a good day to head back to the gym. I’ve not been to the gym since recovering from Covid back in early March and I was feeling anxious about starting again. This anxiety about being there is probably one of the biggest reasons why, despite having some other “good” days since chemo began, I’ve simply not been.

As I dressed, the inner voices were nagging at me. “Who are you to be in the gym? Just look at yourself. Let’s look at how you look now versus how you looked back in December. You don’t belong there anymore.” Mentally flipping those negative voices the bird, I made it out of house and to the gym where another version of self-talk took over and had to be fought.

The self-talk I am referring to is the “go hard or go home” variety. I don’t know another gear when I train. I only know how to give it my all and leave nothing in the tank. This is what I meant when I mentioned the norms and behaviors specific to activities we identify ourselves with. If you don’t go hard then what’s the point in even going?

Ohhhh, but I have this artificial port in my chest that is a direct line to a vein where I’ve been injected four times so far with toxins known to kill cancer cells. These toxins aren’t just toxic to the cancer cells. The substance cannot determine which cells it is attacking, so it attacks everything in its path – including my heart, and I can feel the results of this damage every time I exercise. Taking the dog for a walk at a leisurely 17 minute mile pace makes my heart race if I’m moving up a slight incline. Keep that in mind. Most people can walk a mile in about 15 minutes when trying.

I digress. As I stepped under the empty bar of the smith machine for some squats, I had to check my ego. The goal was 20 repetitions and as I began the first few, I thought, “this is too easy for you.” Ah, but my heart said something else altogether! I had to slow down the pace and then when the 20 reps were complete, I had to take a breather before moving to the next exercise. I managed to get through six different machines with reps between 12 and 20 for three sets each. It was hard. My ego was bruised, but I was happy with myself for getting done what I could do.

Well, since I did that, now it’s time for some cardio to work off this extra fluff I’ve accumulated over the last four months from doing absolutely nada but walking the dog. The treadmill bores me to tears and I saw there were some new stationary bikes, so my ego once again said, “Let’s go!” Within 90 seconds of getting on the bike, I knew I was in trouble and within three minutes of starting I stopped.

As I edged off the bike, all of a sudden there were black spots in my vision and a curtain began falling from the top of my eyes. “Oh crap! I’ve been here before.” I stood motionless, holding onto the bike saddle until the spots went away and the curtain disappeared. But, something still wasn’t right. My heart still felt wonky and I was unsteady on my feet. I decided to have a seat on the floor and think some calming thoughts. It sounds silly, but sometimes this works when my body is acting out of the ordinary.

After about ten minutes, I gingerly made my way to the women’s area to retrieve my keys and glasses so I could go home. However, as I stood there with my belongings in my hand, my vision once again showed me some very pretty dots and I decided to have a seat. Of course, all the water I drank has now come back to haunt me and I’m trying to figure out if I can make it to the women’s locker room…at the back of the gym.

In my head, there’s an absence now of the demons who were so loud earlier, and all I can think about is how mortifying it would be to have an “accident” sitting right there on that piece of equipment. Slowly and carefully, I made my way to the locker room to do what needed to be done. Ohhhh, but the body wasn’t yet done making me absolutely miserable. As I stood at the sink wetting the bandana on my head, the first inkling came across as that extra salivation we all know about.

Seriously! I didn’t even have time to close the door of the bathroom stall! You don’t want or need all the details. Suffice it to say, it was quite unpleasant!

35 minutes after getting off the bike, I was able to leave the gym. Quite the ego check for someone who has both ran and biked 100 miles – without throwing up.

What does this story have to do with identifying oneself with a certain set of standards? My belief system and “code” of conduct meant that I had to push. I had to try one more set. I had to complete my cardio after the weights, because that’s just what we do. Right? No! What I needed to do was to do JUST what my body was able and nothing more. No push.

Identifying with a specific set of norms can be harmful to us if we do not apply logic and reasoning while subtracting our noisy ego.

Silent word Storm

Allow me for a moment to digress from the norm and bring you into the realm of a silent word storm. Perfection is an illusion, a trick of the eye or a sleight of hand. 

What is seen through your lens is distorted by closed-minded views and many, unfounded, beliefs.

Though you walk daily through your own valley of filters, nothing can truly remedy what’s making you so off-kilter.

There’s nothing out there that will fill in your gaps, no magic glue to patch in all you think is lacking. 

The view is distorted by the broken lens you steadily look through, expecting to see a different version of you. 

The distortion is caused by your own reflection bouncing off a warped ideal of reality and perfection. Allow me to enlighten you. There’s no such thing as perfect. 

We live, love, leave a mark and die, all in the span of one blink of an eye.

So, spend your energy wisely or simply spin your wheels, but either way you decide, how this life will feel.

Perfection is an illusion we choose to chase, when there won’t be one single winner of this human race.

~TlT

Thoughts of an Insomniac

Thoughts run rampant like a runaway train, while insomnia runs roughshod within my brain. So, I’m awake writing at 12:15 a.m rather than asleep on my bed. Curled up in my covers and ignorant of the world is where I want to be, but here I sit in my cozy chair writing instead.

Here we live in the newly born year of 2022, yet there are reports of book burnings and the ultra-conservatives telling us who we cannot be. Have we somehow jumped the time space continuum and returned to 1953? Are you honestly trying to tell us that it is you who knows what’s best? Well, pay attention to these words while I get this off my chest.

The books are not the problem and the internet is not to blame for all the supposed sins you rave about and whatever pronouns our children claim. If you think that passing laws and cinching restrictions tighter on the rights we’re entitled to in this country, will make it all disappear, you’ve got a big surprise coming from this next generation. They won’t stand for your manipulations and they won’t wait around in fear.

What happened to the separation of our church and state? How can you loudly scream you’re a “Christian”, while steadily out of your mouth spews ignorance and hate? The political leanings of our government leaders, elected by the people, are supposed to represent the majority, no only those who worship under your shiny steeple.

What are you so afraid of Harry Potter for? I suppose Bugs Bunny is next, or perhaps it will be Winnie the Pooh? How are books and thoughts, ideas and individual identities any danger to you? While you run scared, driving up the hysteria about things that shouldn’t matter on your agenda, the wallet of government leaders is getting so much fatter. Or, maybe that’s the point. Keep the sheep distracted with all of the rhetoric, while you slowly rob them blind.

But, take a walk, I dare you, down any city street. Open your ignorant and blinded eyes, tell me what do you see? While you strip rights and rave like a lunatic, there are men, women and children dying in this country from homelessness that’s no fault of theirs. We have teachers working multiple jobs, praying they don’t get sick. Firemen and Police down in the trenches on the daily, doing what they can do to aid their communities and hoping they go home at the end of their shifts to their own families.

These are some of the people giving back to their communities with actions that may save lives, not sitting on the sidelines preaching from the benches.

Did you know that children are not your possessions? They really do have minds of their own, and their social awareness is necessary for their education. Have you not ever read Maslow? There are basic human needs that must be met, in order for children to learn. They might sound familiar to you because they’re the same as yours, or maybe you’re unable to discern. One of the most basic of these needs is emotional safety, which includes being heard. But, you probably don’t know this because you’re too busy pointing fingers at scapegoats and finding more books to burn.

~TlT

The Great Weight Loss “Myth”

Okay friends, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Calories are not the enemy in and of themselves. Neither are carbs, fats and the list goes on. In addition, there’s this phrase I’ve heard since I was old enough to tie my shoes that says, “muscle weighs more than fat”. This is also a misnomer. Finally, the concept that everyone needs 1200 calories a day in order to function at optimum levels is also hogwash.

We all need the calories for the hungriest organ in our body and that is our brain! Our brain needs these calories in order to send the thousands and thousands of messages it sends to our body every single day. Think about your brain like a computer that needs electricity to function. If you unplug the computer from its power source, it runs on the battery for awhile, but eventually the battery wears down and it’s necessary to plug your computer into the wall again. Simply put, our brain is like that. It requires calories to function and it can do so for so many days without nourishment, but it will reach a point where it doesn’t function as well because it is not being fed.

The calories eaten are not the issue so much as what the calories consist of. If all one eats are items that are converted to sugar, then you’re more likely to set yourself up for diseases like diabetes. If your favorite food ever is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, that’s fine but remember to balance that with some fruits and vegetables as well. Add some good, lean meat like chicken, turkey or even fish to your meals, then the occasional and tasty, PB & J won’t matter much. Balance is the key! Unless you’re a bodybuilder or someone who lives on a specific diet, moderation and balance are the key.

Speaking of balance…16 ounces is equal to one pound and one pound of flesh is equivalent to 3500 calories. One pound is one pound is one pound. Muscle does not weigh more than fat! However, if you weigh 150 pounds and you are predominantly muscular, your body will appear “fuller” than someone who weighs the exact same amount but their body is mostly fat. Think about it like this. The human body is a case of sorts. This case can hold fat and muscle or some combination thereof. Put 150 pounds of muscle in one body and 150 pounds of fat in the other then have both placed on a scale. The scale will read 150 pounds!

Okay, as a woman who has been the same height since they were a pubescent 12 year old I can tell you that my requirements for food have changed over the years and so have those of every other human on the planet. Not only have they changed since we were teenagers, they also change day to day depending on the amount and type of activities we participate in. If your job is one where you’re sitting on your duff all day, there is less need for the same amount of calories as someone who works construction all day. Not only that but, are you a woman or a man; are you under the age of 25 or over; are you a woman who is pre-menopausal or post-menopausal or going through the change currently; are you a man over the age of 35, 50? All these questions and then some are important to ask when you are thinking about making a lifestyle change to get healthier.

Herein is really and truly my point to all this – it needs to be a lifestyle change. It’s not a diet! It’s not a punishment for the chocolate bar you ate at lunch, nor is it punishment for that extra-large order of fries you ate over the weekend. We have to change our relationship with food and that starts with our brain and the way we think about food and exercise! Think about how much better it will feel when you are able to run a mile or walk up the stairs without running out of breath!

It’s mind over matter…if it matters, we make it work and if not, we simply will not.

Until next time friends

~Peace

Starting Over….Again

One of my tattoos is a blending of three different animals. A snake, an alligator and the mythical phoenix are joined together in one place, and they all have personal symbolism. Today though, my focus is just on the beautiful and powerful phoenix who rises from the ashes reborn. In my mind, she doesn’t simply start over, because what’s the point in that? Who in their right mind wants to start over, again, from where they last left off?

The phoenix becomes more aware, more efficient and more powerful in the next iteration than she was in the last. This, my friends, is the point of life! Change. Are you the same person you were when you were 16 or 26? I certainly hope that you are not and think that in some way or fashion you have changed, perhaps even started over once or twice since that time of your life.

We hear people telling us to stop quitting so we don’t have to start over, but there’s usually a reason why people stop habits both good and bad. Yes, there is power in pushing through hard times to come out the other side successful. However, there is also power in knowing when you’ve had all you can take, or being self-aware enough to know that your energies are better served doing something else rather than beating your head into the proverbial wall. Being uncomfortable builds our brains and creates a more resilient person, but if you think that quitting is necessarily a bad thing, I beg to differ. Starting over can move us forward!

There have been plenty of these lessons in life, and it’s funny to me that it’s only now after battling with my body for the better part of this year I see things more clearly. One of my good friends I ran the trails with a few years back, pointed out that intentionally deciding not to finish a race takes courage and there are lessons to be found in those moments when we are at our lowest. When your dream of accomplishing a specific task seems like it has been for naught, and it feels like everything you worked for is ashes on the floor. You have the chance then, to start over, again.

The other day, as I was struggling through a leg workout with my coach and mentally berating myself for being in this place that’s 180 degrees from where I was this time last year, the realization that I am once again starting over hit me. It made me sad and angry all at the same time. But, guess what? I’m still here! I’ll take the lessons learned along with the heartache and use it to light the flames and burn brighter, be smarter and stronger while I start over…again.

In the Blink of an Eye

Days often seem to drag out by the everlasting minute, when we’re deep down in it. At the same time, upon reflection, the minutes, days and years seem to have flown by, leaving me standing here in awe that I’m still here and yet have come so far. The person I once was, who wanted to believe in happy ever after and other flights of fancy, like someday a person would come along to fill my holes that leave my heart dancing, is no longer present.

And guess what? That’s okay! Not to be trite or anything, but we should all strive to move forward with who we are as people so as not to be the same infantile personalities we undertook as a child. There’s a quote from the Bible that says something like, when I was a child, I thought like a child, but now I’ve grown into an adult and I think as an adult does. This past year has most definitely been one of growth in my life and there have been childish thoughts eliminated from my mind.

It used to be, I would not say anything to anyone that might rock the proverbial boat or hurt the feelings of someone with sensitive emotions. I’d not stand up for my boundaries and belief system if it meant that people wouldn’t like me. I used to be a doormat. I used to be a woman waiting for someone to come fill me up and make me feel complete. Now? Now, I know that the only person who can complete me is me. The only person who can fill my inadequacies with success is me. Though, if we’re honest, as human beings who are (hopefully) continually growing, are we ever truly “complete”? Cancer has taught me some things about myself.

Don’t get me wrong. Cancer sucks. Period. I wouldn’t wish this entire process on anyone. From the very painful breast biopsy in March and waiting for those results over spring break to chemotherapy through the entire summer and now, with nine radiation treatments remaining before we can prayerfully say, the cancer has left my body. I pray to God every single day that he allows me to be cancer free for at least 30 years, but either way, it has left an irreversible mark on my body as well as my mind.

In the blink of an eye, the world as I saw it was dumped upside down and turned inside out, again. Yet, here I stand. As always, I refuse to be just an ordinary statistic. I refuse to back down or be quiet. A lifetime of muck has taught me that silence has much to teach us, if only we listen. “Failure” has a lesson inherent within it, if we dare to look.

There are no guarantees in this life if you think about it. Even the rich die young. Even the wealthy have fatal car accidents. Even the beautiful have suicidal thoughts. It can all be gone in the blink of an eye, so live this life the best you are able. You never know when fate is going to turn your tables.