Mom to the Screaming Masses

Brokenness

I love to read, I will read most anything. I've never made a secret of it. I'd rather read than watch tv, and can often be found with my face buried in a book. Want to gift me and make me happy? Take me to a bookstore. Want to make me delirious? Take me to The Strand in New York City. It's seriously one of my most happy places ever.

Currently I'm deeply immersed inside a fascinating book. When I first started to read this book, I found it so interesting that I read it faster, gulping entire chapters as fast as possible so as to complete it - and a few chapters in, I made myself start over at the beginning of the book. 

I slowed way, way down, which is unusual for me. I began to reflect and digest upon what I was reading. 

The book is called Just Mercy, and it is the true story of Bryan Stevenson, who founded the Equal Justice Initiative, a legal practice dedicated to defending the poor, the wrongly condemned, and women and children trapped deep in the criminal justice system. The story is deeply compelling and utterly fascinating. I am nearing the end of the book, and I was profoundly struck by two separate quotes. 

My years of struggling against inequality, abusive power, poverty, oppression, and injustice had finally revealed something to me about myself. Being close to suffering, death, executions, and cruel punishments didn’t just illuminate the brokenness of others; in a moment of anguish and heartbreak, it also exposed my own brokenness. You can’t effectively fight abusive power, poverty, inequality, illness, oppression, or injustice and not be broken by it. We are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone and have been hurt. We all share the condition of brokenness even if our brokenness is not equivalent. - Just Mercy, by Bryan Stevenson, Chapter Fifteen

We are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone and have been hurt. We all share the condition of brokenness even if our brokenness is not equivalent. I just retyped that part because it was so important to me. I don't work with people in prison, or people on death row. i asked, for many years, to be allowed to do prison ministry. I felt as if I had a calling for it, but the people who handle that aspect of it in my life told me over and over that I wasn't "suited", I wasn't "strong enough", and that they would not let me be a part of it. So I chose, instead, to shift my energy and my spare time to my other passion, working with the homeless. Over the past two years, it has quickly become the most important and fulfilling part of my life. I feel sustained and whole the more I do  - the harder I work, the calmer I feel internally. 

I have personal reasons for feeling so strongly pulled to the homeless community that I don't want to go in to on this blog, because they aren't essential to the core of this story. But at the center of it, my brokenness is no different than theirs. I am the same as any of them, and in fact, I could be one of them, so very easily. I never want to forget that. I hope to have compassion and grace and extend mercy, to remember that someone else's brokenness could be more externally visible, but mine is internally visible and no less potent and in need of mercy and kindness. You can only show kindness when it has been shown to you. 

There is a strength, a power even, in understanding brokenness, because embracing our brokenness creates a need and desire for mercy, and perhaps a corresponding need to show mercy. - Just Mercy, by Bryan Stevenson, Chapter Fifteen

Hello, It's Me

 

Hi there. Remember me? To be honest, I am not even sure if I remember me. Some days, I don't even know who I am anymore. It's been just about three weeks since I wrote here, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave this site and abandon my blog, but I just don't have time in my life to sit at the computer lately. I get up for work at 2:45, get off work at 12, do an errand or two, take a nap if I am super lucky, and then it's time to do house chores, make dinner and start the effort towards bed. If I sit down for a half a second somewhere, I doze off. It's totally ridiculous. 

And then it's the next day. And then the next, and the next. 

But, something cool did happen. 

My daughter had her white coat ceremony. 

She's in her third year of studies, and now begins her clinical rotations. 

Here she is reciting the nursing oath. 

Her first rotation is at the same hospital at which she was born.:)

I had my 49th birthday, and I survived. 

We had a small, intimate Thanksgiving, and we all enjoyed ourselves. The table looked lovely. 

It's been a couple of weeks of ups and downs, just like everyone's life. There have been a couple of what I might call Big Bads, things that have the potential to really change people's lives for the not so good - but, as my therapist tells me all the time - there's really nothing you can do about what's coming in the future, so let's not stress over it. It's enough to know that some of those things are coming, to be prepared for them, and then try, as much as I can, to let the anxiety go and just 

breathe. 

I have such a hard time just breathing. 

You all know this. 

Right now, though, I'm wearing an oversized fuzzy sweater and slippers, my 16 year old is cooking dinner for the first time, I don't have to work tomorrow and I will get to serve Homeless Breakfast in it's place (which is my most favorite time of the week), I will see one of my most favorite people, and I will take myself to lunch after. I have a photography job in the afternoon and was hired for another next week. I am in the process of reading a fantastic book (Just Mercy) and I have a couple of plans for my future that I am trying to clarify in my head. 

Tell me what's new with you. 

Just Get Out There and Do It

One hundred years ago, life was much different for women. In essence, they belonged to their husbands or their fathers. They really didn't have rights. They couldn't make decisions. I mean, they could decide what dress they wanted to wear, and what they wanted to serve for dinner. They could decide what to clips to wear in their hair, that kind of thing. 

A husband could beat his wife with no recourse. 

Most women didn't work out of the home, because their husbands didn't allow it. If women did work out of the home, it ceased after they were married. It wasn't "proper". Women didn't travel alone. Pants weren't worn, ankles weren't shown, bathing suits covered the body. It was expected that women had long hair, kept themselves covered and quiet. 

I would have stuck out like crazy one hundred years ago. Maybe. I dunno. I might have been too afraid. 

Tomorrow is Election Day in the United States. Although it isn't the BIG election, it is a super important election - although, really, every election is an important election. 

Are you planning to vote? 

There will never be a new world order until women are a part of it. - Alice Paul 

Alice Paul was an American suffragist and one of the main leaders and strategists for the Nineteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution which prohibits sex discrimination in the right to vote. Arrested and imprisoned multiple times in her pursuit of the right of suffrage in both England and the United States, Alice Paul worked tirelessly, along with many other women, to change the lives of women and to make history, to allow women to rights and the privilege to enter the voting booth, to cast our ballots as we see fit. In January 1917, discouraged by President Wilson’s continued opposition to the suffrage amendment, Alice Paul posted pickets at the White House gates—the first people to ever picket the White House. They stayed on duty in the face of threats, taunts, and physical violence. Using their banners, they asked, “Mr. President How Long Must Women Wait for their Liberty?” and “Mr. President What Will you do for Woman Suffrage?” Truly, she was key to the right to women's votes. 

The 19th Amendment was ratified on August 18, 1920, and women were given the right to vote, but not full equality, and Alice Paul wasn't through yet. She and the National Women's Party went on to work even harder for equal rights for women, and it was her passion until her death in 1977.

One of my daughters is 21, and I have been impressed and delighted to see her, over the past months, as she has asked, reminded, and cajoled her friends and schoolmates, to register to vote, to remember to vote, to educate themselves to vote. She's been my fiercest, most outspoken political child, and she's badgered all of us to know our stances. It's amazing. 

I have been heartened to see the number of people talking about voting, but equally unhappy to hear discussions from those who aren't even registered to vote, who say things like, "I don't know if I'm registered to vote. It doesn't even matter, I don't really care." 

PEOPLE DIED FOR YOUR RIGHT TO VOTE. 

Women didn't get the right to vote until 1920. African American males didn't get the right to vote until 1870. Native Americans were granted the right to vote, regardless of tribal affiliation, in 1924. (If I am incorrect on these dates, please let me know - I've looked and looked and everything I've found shows them to be correct.)

This election is so important. I don't talk politics here, I just don't. It's something I don't get in to, it's a subject I keep close and closed and private - but whatever your thoughts and beliefs, get out there and vote. You owe it to yourself. If you belong to any of the groups who have not been allowed to vote in the past, you disrespect your ancestors by neglecting your voting duty. 

If you are hesitant to vote because you don't know who to vote for, it's ok! Check out ballotpedia.org. It's a great site to help you discover the ins and outs of your particular ballot, and I found to to be very useful. 

If you need a nudge to get to the polling place, plan a treat for after. Take yourself to lunch, go for a manicure, get a fancy coffee beforehand, buy a new book to read while you stand in line. Bring your headphones with some really kicking' music, because you may be there for a bit of time. 

Just go vote!

I never doubted that equal rights was the right direction. Most reforms, most problems are complicated. But to me, there is nothing complicated about ordinary equality. - Alice Paul

 

Hanging at the Beach in the Chill

I went to the beach early this morning to try to catch the sunrise. 

I love the beach. I like it even better when I'm not surrounded by a bajillion and one people. 

When I go to the beach in the warm weather, I usually choose the out of the way beach. I drive further than I need to get to the less populated area, just so I can avoid the crowds. 

Today, I went to the public beach, and I was the only person on the sand. It was glorious. Cold, but glorious. 

It is hard to believe that two weeks ago, I was out there in a bathing suit. 

I got wet up to my knees, ended up covered in sand, and sat for close to an hour, just listening to the water and the seagulls.

 

It was amazing. 

The tourist parts of the beach are deserted and sad now, but the reality is that it will all come back.

Life makes a circle. 

Feelings of Belonging, Take 48

I religiously watched This is Us last season. This year, I still watch it, but due to my work schedule, I watch each episode the next day, or the following. It's still a good show, but I'm not quite as devoted as I was last year - a bit of the shine has rubbed off for me. I will still watch and enjoy, don't get me wrong. 

One of the aspects of the show I most enjoy is the superb writing. There's always a line that grabs me, and it's usually something that's small and seemingly inconsequential and I end up having to rewind a couple of times to catch all of the tiny bits. This week, the important quote was a bit more important, but this one really, really got me. Spoken by Randall:

Stuffs always complicated. Where I fit in. How I come off to certain people. It’s like I’m trying too hard or I’m not trying hard enough. Can never get it right.

This is EXACTLY how I feel, what in the actual hell. Ever since I was a young kid in ballet class, I have always felt like an outsider, looking in at some one else's life. Every group I've ever joined, I've left after a while, because I haven't felt as if I fit in.

It's so crazy. 

And forget how I come off to people - to some, I am the nicest person, and to others, I am the devil incarnate. I used to be on the advisory committee at my church and half of the people on the committee thought I was really funny - and fully 6 people on the committee didn't like me to sit next to them, lol. 

It's super confusing, sometimes, trying to figure out your place in life. Do you ever feel that way? And then when you have been at one school/church/job for a long time, and you decide to change, and you have to pull yourself from a comfort zone and go into a new one - well, it can be a difficult thing, to try to figure out how to fit in, all over again, to try and find that balance of trying too hard versus not trying hard enough and hope to have other people understand your humor, your stories, to know who you are as a person and to decide that you are worth it. 

Stuff is, indeed, always so freakin' complicated. 

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You might notice that this page looks a bit different. After more than 12 years, I removed the ads from this site. I used to make a good income from them, but that money has slowed to a trickle and now basically disappeared, and now that BlogHer is gone, and the company I loved is no longer, and I am no longer employed by SheKnows, I have no need to keep my sidebars full of ads that do not bring money in. 

So, less clutter on the eyes, I hope, at any rate. Enjoy my new, ad free blog. And I updated my bio a smidge. Not a ton. Just a smidge. :)

Why in the World Would a Person Start a Blog?

That literally makes no sense, yes?

I mean, right now it makes no sense. Sixteen years ago (oh, my God, it was sixteen years ago - granted, on another platform it was sixteen years ago, but I know it was sixteen years ago because I have a solid memory that one of first blog posts was what a wonderful sleeper my daughter Emma was, and she is now sixteen, ahahahaaa, Hubris is still such a rock solid, always present partner for me) everyone and their bestie started a blog and it was the in thing to do. I mean, everyone. 

And when a couple of my friends did it, and I read theirs, I thought to myself, Wow, that doesn't seem so difficult and actually, it seems kind of cool, I bet even I could do that.....

and so, voila, I did. 

I struggled, for a bit, as to what to name the blamed thing. It took me forever to come up with the name, and I'm still not sure it was such a great choice. I know that it embarrassed my kids, later on, and it sure made people chuckle, when they read my email back to me, or read the name of my blog to me, or asked me the name of it, etc. etc. It was especially difficult on my kids when their teachers read my blog and talked to my kids about it, and I realized that I had to tread a really fine like with regards to what I wrote. But at one time, the name of my blog really fit. My house WAS loud, it was full of screaming people, and with 8 of us in one house, I only knew two other families of similar sizes. It was a really lonely time for me. 

Now, of course, my house is quieter and my family size (living at home) smaller and blogs are different and I am different and life is different and blogging is wayyyyy different. 

This topic came up because I was emailed a question and asked if I could answer it in a blog post. 

What got you into blogging in the first place? And have you seen a change in the blogging world in the years you've been blogging?

So I have answered the first part, mostly. The answer to the second part is a resounding hell yes! Blogging has changed so much that it really isn't the same. Everyone has monetized. Everyone is trying to make money from ads, sidebars, sponsored posts, instagram ads, sponsored tweets and facebook posts - everything is done with a direct focus on making money. There is very little writing from the heart, very little stone cold, true, heart felt "this is what my life is like and how I'm getting through the day" and it's almost all "Here's what I'm packing for lunch, sponsored by Quaker Oats". I've done it myself - it's hard to turn it down when someone is offering your $300, $500, or more to write a post (BIG NOTE - I have not been paid that much for a sponsored post, but I know people who have been paid way more than that) sitting on your couch, about a bowl of oatmeal, ya know? I've tried to keep my blog as close to real life as possible. I don't know that I've always succeeded, but I've given it an honest effort. 

My focus on writing here has always been honesty. I try to write about my life in a manner that is truthful, with a dash of humor, if I can find something funny in it, but above all, I want to make myself relatable to other people. I don't like to read blogs I can't relate to, blogs that are full of fluff and ridiculousness and not real life. I don't want to read about lives that aren't real. I talk about my life - the good, the bad, and lately - the ugly and the sad. I don't believe that it does the world any good to hide your sad, your ugly and your struggles. Everyone has them, and if you humanize them, and let other people know that they aren't alone in their struggles - I think it makes the world a better place in which to live. 

I try to do that here. 

I don't have a huge readership. I'm not big, or powerful, or famous. I don't attract major advertisers any longer, or have page views in the thousands or ten thousands - I've become a very small, tidy blog, with loyal readers, some of whom never comment and just - silently read, and that is ok. 

If I can help one person to know that I understand that life is sometimes hard, is sometimes dark and sad, and sometimes, you struggle knowing what to do - and sometimes, your child may not behave the way you think they should, may make a different decision than you think s/he should, might have a diagnosis that you don't understand, you might lose your job, seriously contemplate suicide not once but twice and maybe even try it, end up in therapy, not have the money you need to do the things you want - but, at the bottom of each and every matter, you will be ok, your friends will be there, and the sun will come up once again - well, then I will be a very, very happy person. 

And so, my friend, will you. 

What I Did Over the Summer, The Back to School Paper

Do you remember writing this paragraph, way back in elementary school? It was always assigned the first week of school, at least in my memory, and you had to write a couple of paragraphs for your teacher, explaining what you did and how you spent your summer. In my mind, it was busy work and a way for the teacher to be nosy, but now I can also see that it was a way for the teacher to see who among the students was a "have" and a "have not", who was a writer and who wasn't, who had troubles in their family, who had friends and who was a loner. 

Or, maybe, the teacher was just nosy and as typical for me, I was always reading too much into the situation. 

But I thought it might be kind of interesting to do my own version of what I did over the summer, if I can even remember it. Here's some of it. 

At the very beginning, I lost my job and began the process of applying for a new one. All together, I applied for 26 positions in my field  - and I will say that applying for jobs is incredibly soul killing. If I could respond to all of the companies to whom I applied, I would tell them that it would be so nice for them to just respond and say, "Thank you so much for applying, but at this time, we've decided that we need someone who has xxx - or you won't work because of yyy" - anything to give you an understanding, because zero response after months and months is so frustrating.  

 

I graduated my 8th grader into high school. 

I rowed 10,000 meters every day for the month of June, and close to it in July. August was more difficult, but I have been trying to pick it up again in September and have great plans. 

I graduated this kid from two high schools with honors. 

I drove to visit one of my very best friends for lunch, even though the ride turned out to be much tougher on me than I thought it might be. 

I photographed a wedding.

I thoroughly enjoyed myself doing so. :)

 

This girl turned 16.

My newly minted 16 year old got her first job and I realized that I had relegated myself to a summer of driving her back and forth to the water park, in exchange for $5 a week and an occasional water park pass. 

I DEFINITELY got shafted there. 

I myself started a new job working as a Pastry Chef at a small bakery providing organic bread, pastries, pizza & breakfast sandwiches, plus coffee, with limited seating - from their online description. It was a steep and sharp learning curve and there were a few days in there that I struggled, including a couple of tearful mornings that I questioned myself. I'm doing better now, but there were, and still are, so so so many things to learn that I find I have to really focus and concentrate and when I make a mistake, I get really upset with myself. It's something I am actively working on in therapy, actually - my habit of virtually crucifying myself over a mistake. I am, in the words of my therapist, the hardest on myself that she's ever seen. I know that I will make a mistake and just murder myself internally for hours and hours, and become convinced that everyone else is talking about it as well. 

I continued working Homeless Breakfast every Friday. It's easily the highlight of my week - and I follow it up by visiting my favorite butcher shop (my friend owns it) for a $6 burger and fries for lunch. I get to have a super lunch and visit with friends and read a book and just relax. Fridays are easily my favorites. 

My daughter broke her heel, jumping in the water to save a little kid. 

Apparently, the heel is the hardest bone to break, who knew? She wore the cast for a month and then graduated to a boot.

I made this beautiful cake about ten times. It makes a fantastic breakfast, especially when you are running out the door at 3:30 a.m. :)

I worked in the garden a lot. 

Picked a ton of tomatoes. 

Made tomato jam. 

This kid turned 21. 

 I moved my kid into his college dorm. He's at college in the big city, New York, and settling in and doing beautifully. Everything is going really well. 

While in NYC, we did some sightseeing. 

 I tried to make it to my happy place as couple of times, to just - chill. I wasn't as successful as I would have liked, but it rained at least 4 out of 7 days this summer, and when I get off work, I am so tired that I try to work out and then all I'm good for is a nap - and then it's time to start the dinner prep and then I have to go to bed, because 3 a.m. comes damned early. But I did go a few times. 

I made Peach Bourbon Vanilla Jam. 

And, my husband and I attended the Dierks Bentley/Brothers Osbourne/Lanco concert - and I LOVED it. (He tolerated it, for me. He's a good egg.)

I realized, as I wrote this, that a) - I take a lot of pictures, which, hi, that's what I do, and b) I have no photos of me, because I hate hate hate having my picture taken. I should maybe try to remedy that. I also did a lot this summer - I really wanted to stay in my house and hermit, but I made a conscious effort to get out there and do. Maybe I wasn't as successful as I wanted, but I gave it a good effort this year. 

Learning to Breathe All Over Again

At its most elemental, life is about taking a breath. One breath, and then another. A baby learns to breathe before it does anything else, and that fact was brought home to me when one of my own had trouble and we came scurrying back to the ER with a limp noodle of a 4 day infant who was then deep suctioned 

 

Breathe. 

 

Breathing is what  you do before the baby comes. It’s what you do to push past the pain, to push through the pain, to crest over the pain.  It’s what we tell our children when they come to us, sobbing and gasping, full of tales of woes of he said and she did. Before we can parse out the fact from the fiction, we often need them to stop and take a breath and calm down. 

 

Breathe. 

 

When you have a car accident, or cut your finger, or break a bone, or injure yourself in any number of ways - it’s human instinct to gasp. It’s your body, forcing you to breathe. Maybe not exactly the way you wanted, but, hey, a tiny uptake in the inhalation of oxygen isn’t always a bad thing. 

 

Breathe. 

 

Meditation is something that has been suggested to me for years, and I’ve scoffed at it. ”Can’t do!” said I. “Not for me!”

 

A need for breathing will slap that assuridty right smack out of you, you know. Meditation has become my friend, and I've done it daily now for close to five months. 

 

Close to six years ago, a friend offered me a job with a small yet inspiringly energetic company, and I grabbed on to my brass ring. I had been working with the company for several years on the front side, as it were, and she offered me my first real, grown up, "beyond the Mom" job. 

 

You may not understand what that was like. You may find it comical, especially in the year 2018 - but 2012 was different, and I was different and my life was so very, very different. 

 

I had been a mom for a long time, dealing with mom stuff.  Having special needs kids will sap you, no denial there, and being the only parent at home of a larger than typical size family? Well, it can be mentally draining on a good day, but years of it can draw a person’s soul low and I was finally at a spot in my life where I could just

 

Breathe

 

And try to figure out what I wanted to do and here came this amazing company, filled with incredible, inspiring, awesome women, who wanted to work with ME

 

Who wanted to give me a flexible job that allowed me to be home with my kids and build my schedule and yet taught me how to think and work and balance and juggle 

 

and earn and maintain and be so proud of who and what I was until that little company suddenly wasn’t anymore but it was ok, because suddenly, I was part of something much bigger, and I was a real employee with a paid vacation - never had that in my life, wow, who knew - and a 401k, and I was able to carry the insurance for my family, because it was good insurance, too, and we could finally, finally do the things we needed to do. I was a working, supporting partner in my household and I felt that it was an important thing for my girls to see that, as they were growing up. My boys too, of course, but my girls especially. I had my own income over the past years and was able to do things for the family, but more importantly, my kids were able to see that I had a job and I was important, as a person. 

 

I rode the ride for close to six years, and the ride came to a stop in May.  The company, which had been sold to another, had decided remote workers held no future for them - at least, not this particular remote worker. 

 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t doing a lot of breathing over the past several months. 

 

I decided that I would take a bit of time to just, well, breathe, and relax and enjoy my kids - I had allowed myself to get way too, very much so, out of balance and I needed to realize exactly what my purpose in life really was all about. After a bit, I did begin to apply for jobs in the same field I had been in, but after 25 rejections, I really was beginning to feel down about it. 

 

So, when I saw two jobs in a totally different field pop up on Facebook - a job for which I felt that I reasonably qualified, but not 100% - I decided to apply. I was completely upfront about the fact that I do not have a degree in the field, but I had gone to college in this field after I graduated school, I just didn't finish my degree because I began a family. I told both that I had continued to take non credit classes in the field during the years, and had worked on my skills over the ensuing years very seriously. 

 

And I was called for two interviews. 

 

The first interview went very well, I thought, and after a week, I was asked to come in and work in the establishment to test my skills and see if I got along with the rest of the employees. I loved the first couple of days - the people I worked with were fantastic - fun and chill, great music, calm instruction, very friendly, and the atmosphere was very much somewhere I could see myself working.

 

I was called for the second interview, and I prayed that I would have a clear and definitive sign, to make it crystal to me which way I should go. 

 

And the second interview. Man, it totally was not me, and I left hoping with all my might that I would be offered the first job. 

 

And I was. 

 

I am now employed as a Pastry Chef. :)

 

It is a complete career change, and it wasn't something that I was anticipating, but I am so delighted to have put myself out there and taken the leap. It's hard work - I wake at 3 every morning, to be there by 4, and work until noon. But when I leave at noon, I leave. My time off is my time off, I'm not obsessing about keeping on top of emails, answering and checking them, worrying about Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and hashtagging and Google Analytics and on and on. I'm making less money, but the stress load trade off? It's amazing. 

 

I've gotten into the habit of trying to get into bed by 9, and I listen to my hypnosis recording from my therapist before I go to sleep. I would like to try to aim for 8, and think that once I settle into a good schedule it will be easier. My alarm goes off at 3, and I leave the house my 3:30. I do my prayers first thing in the car, and then listen to a meditation for the rest of the drive - it's about 25 minutes. When school starts, I might need to reevaluate the 8/9 p.m. bedtime, but otherwise, I think it's going to work. 

 

I am so excited about this - and I really hope it works out - I'm thinking positively.

 

And breathing. :)

 

Vegetables

As hard as I've tried, virtually no one in my house likes vegetables. 

Well, that's not technically true. Most of them like baby carrots, and fresh peas are tolerated in a pinch, as are green beans. Salads go over reasonably well, sweet potatoes are liked by one or two, but that's really about it. 

No matter how many times I tell my kids You really do need to eat your vegetables, no one really wants to eat their vegetables. 

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This summer, so far, I have spent the vast majority of my time in the truck. 

My youngest has elected to take a super speedy Algebra I course - learning High School level Algebra in just 5 weeks, spending 5 hours a day, 4 days a week (7 am -12 pm) in the classroom and doing homework on the weekend. So I've been driving her back and forth. She's spent her summer actively seeking out math. I've spent my life trying to get away from it. 

She also took a two week drama class from 4-8, so I drove her back and forth to that. 

My second youngest started her first job as a lifeguard, at an oceanfront water park, which is about a 30 minute drive each way. Almost every day. 

My "getting ready to go off to college" son has been away on his graduation trip with my mother, so I don't have another driver. 

Saying that I've been in the truck a lot this first month of summer is a bit of an understatement. 

While I'm in the truck, I write blog posts in my head. I almost immediately discard them as too boring, too intense, too trite, too vain, just - too much or just - not enough. When I say that I've written posts, plural, I really for real for real have. I've just never written them here. 

I could, I suppose, obsess about the fact that I no longer have really good health insurance and now must work with a new insurance company - and "work with" is really a misnomer, because there really is no "working with". The new insurance is one that does not believe that the medications we all use are ones we need, and what is this nonsense about having an overly large prescription deductible per person?  I really enjoy arguing my medical needs weekly. Actually, no, I don't. I'm really tired of doing this. I am really, really tired of it - when will we have a medical system that allows us to be treated as if we are adults and manage our own care, and allow our doctors to decide what medications we will be best served with, without having to argue our cases through a medical board ad nauseam?

I make lists in my head of the things I need to do to get my son off to college - we need to make at least one trip to NY to meet with the disabilities coordinator, because his 504 can go with him to school and we need to make that happen, and we need to meet with the food team to talk about his multiple anaphylactic food allergies, and finish up his funding, and then when his roommates are assigned we've got to discuss the whole food allergy thing with them - I think that this is the part that is stressing us both out the most. 

So sometimes, I compose letters to these types of companies in my head. Sometimes I write letters to people in my family, on the advice of my therapist. I very rarely write them out on paper. Sometimes I do when I get home and I almost always rip them up and toss them. 

I have two notebooks that I am supposed to write in every evening - one a prayer journal, who I want to pray for, and one a gratitude journal, in which I list things and people for which I am grateful, things I've seen that make me happy, make me smile, etc. I probably do this four times a week. 

As a respite from writing posts, I often listen to meditations and I've got a couple of new ones lately, so those are helpful. Sometimes I make myself drive in total silence and think, but I can get into trouble that way. 

I've developed an affinity for rugby and watch it as often as I can, although it doesn't seem to be played locally too often. 

Mostly, I'm doing the things that I need to do to get myself into a healthy place - eating my mental "vegetables", if you will, to make sure that I can be the person I need to be, to be here to take care of the couple of kids who remain here - because they deserve the best care possible.

So I need to take my vitamins, get my sleep, go to the gym, do my meditation, sit in the quiet, meet with my therapist, read the books, do the work, and all of the things that I need to do - just get up, every day, and put my feet on the floor and do it. Some days, getting out of bed is the hardest part.

 

Row Your Boat

I have said before that I enjoy rowing at the gym. It's really become something that I've gotten into, and I've worked up to an hour. I've added distance and difficulty as I go, and I am currently rowing about 10,000 meters in that hour time span, on a level 10. 

I don't show you this for applause, or for back pats, or such - but to encourage you to find your "thing". Find what you like to do, and do it. 

The suicides this week of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain hit me hard, as they did most people. They proved that mental health issues can reach any of us, with any amount of money, any amount of celebrity, and any walk of life. 

Exercise is not an end all be all - it will not fix the broken parts of anyone - but it does help. From a study by the Mayo Clinic: 

• Releasing feel-good endorphins, natural cannabis-like brain chemicals (endogenous cannabinoids) and other natural brain chemicals that can enhance your sense of well-being
• Taking your mind off worries so you can get away from the cycle of negative thoughts that feed depression and anxiety

For some of us, the thought of an hour is, quite frankly, silly. I know that when I first began, and my husband said, "Get out there and get started!" I looked at him like he had three horns coming out of the top of his head and they were twirling those sparkly fans that the kids love, and shooting bubbles at the same time. I just could not fathom the idea of doing that much exercise. I started slow. But now, I look forward to my time on the rowing machine. It's the best part of my day, most days. 

I'm even thinking about joining a crew team. Want to hear something funny, though?

I am not known for my love of the water. Wait, that's wrong. I LOVE the water - I love to be near the water, to go to the ocean, to smell the salt air, to hang out at the beach, to watch the water, to be at peace. What I don't like is to actually go IN the water, when I can't see through it - especially if you show me some big fish or crabs or things you've just caught there. 

Nope. Not a fan. 

So I told my kids that I was planning to join a crew team and I have this one kid

there's always one kid, isn't there

this one kid, who said to me,

"Um, Mom, you know that crew is done on the water, right? You will have to get in the water, and you might fall out of the boat back into the water."

YES. I'm not that dumb.