So, About that Baggage...

As the one-year anniversary of my Mom’s passing closes in I’ve spent a great deal of time reflecting on the past year and counting the mountains of blessings in my life.  Though this year has been challenging and I miss the way things were, I also greatly appreciate my life, my friends, and my family. 

I remember waking up to a call from my sister almost a year ago telling me, “just keep putting one foot in front of the other.”  And at that time that was really all I could do, it was really all WE could do, my sisters and I, as we began wandering through the excruciatingly hard journey of life without our Mom here.  I also remember that I couldn’t, let alone knew how to, ask for help.  I was simply trying to survive and worked hard to pack-in my feelings, challenges, and differences from others.  I admired independence and felt like it was a stamp of how strong of a woman I was.  I worked hard to put my game face on, lace up my boots, and stand up as tall as I could for as long as I could. 

But to be honest, that just wasn’t working and I knew it. 

SO I began to take bigger and bigger steps that picked up into a full on run down a very different path.  Fear and imminent doom began to seem more like a choice that I could say no to versus the heavy rain clouds that followed me around each day.  I realized that I couldn’t change overnight, that I was going to make tons of mistakes and that was okay, and that however long it took to get where I was going was unique to me and I didn’t need to compare myself to others or listen to the sometimes BS that this world fed me.  Most importantly, I realized how much I needed God and people in my life and how hard I was willing to fight to keep them close and those relationships healthy and fruitful.  And really that having healthy and fruitful relationships in my life started with me.  I learned that I’m not meant to be Ms. Independent nor do I want to do this crazy thing called life by myself.  SO, I leaned in and took risks.  And I’m really glad I did because even though taking some of those risks was scary, and I risked falling on my face (and sometimes did!), it also helped me be a better me.  Now I finally feel like I am letting my light shine without fighting against myself all the time.

I think that when we are faced with trauma we have two choices: to embrace it and lean in or run and hide from it/find a way to do a little dance around it.  Much of the time we are taught more about running and hiding and burying things versus embracing them.  And as a direct result, we wind up with all of these heavy, jam-packed bags that we drag around with us.  

I acknowledged my bags and the need to unpack them and I set out to find freedom from the things that were dragging me down.  I was determined to find greater freedom from not knowing how, and sometimes feeling embarrassed, to ask for help, not trusting others well, and shutting down because I wasn’t good at digging deep and facing my rain clouds, to name a few.  I sought out, and am still seeking, how to learn how to own every part of my story (I must give credit to Brene Brown for putting these words in my mouth.  I love her and she talks a lot about owning your story in her new book Rising Strong.  You should read it!).  My compass and focus is God and He gave each of us our stories to not only own, but to share with each other. 

Okay, so quick story...because it relates!  I promise!  I recently took a trip out to Indiana to visit my family for the Thanksgiving holiday.  I checked one bag on my way back and perhaps it was a bit old and worn out (10+ years of use) and perhaps it was just a bit over-packed, BUT I got it zipped!  Any way, on the way back TSA opened and did a through search of that bag AND they actually winded up breaking it and having to tape it shut.  For whatever reason, though, they only taped one side shut…yikes!!!  So when my bag rolled out onto the luggage carousel in Orange County with my stuff hanging out everywhere for all to see, I was horrified and a little embarrassed.  I’m not sure how I gained enough of my senses to scoop up my belongings and hurry outside, but I did!  And I was extremely grateful to find that all of my items managed to make it back to me.  Phew! 

So imagine if those items in the bag were our feelings, challenges, and differences and all the other things we carry with us AND the ugly rain clouds that threaten imminent doom.  I know I’ve packed things in and tried to zip up myself up for way, way to long, just like my bag.  Then I find myself in a situation where, just like my bag, I am busting out of my broken-zippered, old, and worn self and am sometimes horrified and embarrassed. 

THANKFULLY, unlike luggage, people are created to withstand the test of time.  Unlike luggage, we do have ways to cope, heal, and/or manage when we are over-packed and have inappropriately tried to compensate for not being able to handle things by ourselves.  We can choose to embrace and not avoid or dance around the traumatic and hard parts of our story and to welcome the help that is offered to each of us during our journeys.  Thank God we are not alone and that we can choose to have healthy and fruitful relationships with others and ourselves; and that these relationships can help us be stronger people who are willing to embrace every part of our stories.  Know that you might start out putting one foot in front of the other and you could wind up back tracking, but you’ll get there in your time.  I have faith in us!

When You Challenge a Warrior

Who are some of the first people that come to your mind when you think of a warrior?  What sort of battles have these folks faced?  What does it mean to you?  How does it affect your life?  What does it make you FEEL?

For me it’s the story of David and Goliath, the epic journey of the 1980s USA hockey team in the Olympics, and the kids who day after day fight a disease that works without hesitation to consume them.  It’s the story of patience and perseverance; the story of believing against all the odds and having confidence in your God-given purpose.  The feeling I get when I reminisce on how fierce of a fight my beloved father waged against renal cancer.  He might have lost the war, but he fought every battle with valor and strength!  He did not let his attitude or circumstances consume him.  He left a legacy that I want the world to know about.  These things ignite feelings of freedom, of being fully myself, of waving a flag of victory even when I either feel completely defeated or all aspects of the situation I am in point towards loss.  It’s believing that despite the outcome my efforts have not been in vain, that my time has not been wasted. 

I recently watched the movie Warrior.  One part of the movie that struck me was how one of the characters saw an opportunity that seemed to be well beyond his reach, but went for it anyhow.  He seemed to stare fear straight in the face and say, “bring it on.”  He had confidence in himself and his purpose.  He knew the odds were completely against him and challenged them to defy him anyway. 

There have been a great many circumstances in my life in which I’ve let fear take my hand and help me head in the opposite direction of the challenges I’ve faced.  On the other hand, I know I’ve been just like the character in Warrior and like David in the story of David and Goliath: I’ve looked fear in the face and still took my best shot.  I believe God was there with me at each step and that he has worked to ensure that all things work for His good.  In addition, I believe that each subsequent step helped prepare me for what is to come, that my efforts, even when I failed, were all part of my beautiful, purposeful life.  We must take responsibility for our wrong-doings and mistakes and losses but also our triumphs and extra big wins and everything in between.  The pieces TOGETHER make up our beautiful, purposeful lives. 

I wrote most of this blog post over 2 weeks ago.  I had no idea that waiting to post this would fit so perfectly with my most recent experiences.  Mainly, the opportunity I had to attend an event at Chapman surrounding Cheryl Strayed’s book Wild.  She and the other speakers, four Chapman professors, talked about things like fear, knowing ourselves, vulnerability, and the concept of home. 

I read Wild one year before my Mom died.  I saw the movie 7 months after she died.  I heard Cheryl talk in person, about losing her mom and hiking the PCT searching for herself, 2 ¾ months after that.  Experiencing these things and sitting listening to Cheryl with my amazing twin sister, Ashley, cleansed my soul.  It helped me know I am not alone.  We are not alone.  We have a responsibility to ourselves to grow the warriors inside of us and to not give up.  We are responsible for our choices and it is up to us to act with integrity, truth, and benevolence and to make a stand for who we are and what we believe.  If we see an opportunity to personify the warriors inside of us and to make a mark on the world we live, we should make a move. 

When you challenge a warrior the warrior has an opportunity to rise and fight, to stand for their purpose; a purpose so much greater than what one person can imagine.  It’s important that we stay prepared to fight, that we feed ourselves and surround ourselves with life-giving people, places, things; that we are aware of our attitudes and work to live with positivity despite our circumstances. 

I’ve made some really hard decisions about what I choose to do with my life, how I choose to spend my time, and what I choose to purchase with my money.  I try to be very intentional about these things and I expect a lot from myself through the choices I make.  I make these choices because I know they effect how I grow, which effects how I impact other people.  I’m feeding the warrior inside of me so I can feed the warrior inside of you.  We can make a difference by living out our purposes, being who we are, and taking responsibility for the lives that we live. 

I'm so grateful for the life I have been given.  I am blessed to have you all in my life and I am looking forward to our futures.  One of my favorite jams right now is a Ben Rector song called Fear I think it fits well with this topic. You should check it out! 

Don't Hold Your Breath, Let it Out!

For the first time in months I have time to do like nothing.  It feels strange.  It feels nice.  And at the same time I find myself feeling anxious.  I feel like my life is going in a million different directions all at once.  That Dr. Suess book, Oh the Places You’ll Go! keeps playing over and over again in my mind.  And as much as the boy in the book seemed to have a wonderful adventure in front of him and was taking steps toward it, all I can think of is how two steps forward feels like four steps further away from my plan for the future. 

I played this game when I was in college where you breathed in then ran screaming down the street for as long as you could until your breath ran out.  Once that happened you stayed where you were and waited for everyone else to do the same.  Whoever ran the furthest in one breath won.  SO UNFAIR!  It’s like putting toddlers against 17 year olds (at least I think so).  HAHA!  You’d think either the fastest would win or the one who could hold their breath the longest or maybe the one that didn’t fall on that crack in the sidewalk (opps!).  It was like totes unfair, like right?

But what if the winner of the game was the one with the lowest bp afterwards?  Or the one who ran the shortest distance?  Or the one who sweated the least?  Or the most?  Or the one whose heart rate returned to normal the quickest?  What if there were no winners and the point was just to have fun and learn about each other? 

I feel like I wanna scream like I did in that game sometimes.  Well a lot of the time right now.  I’ve been waiting to hear about the results of my re-takes and it's nerve racking.  And I keep thinking about that game I played and that wonderful Dr. Seuss book.  And then I begin to think about ALL the possibilities and directions and the future and how I really just don’t know.  I don’t know how to win.  I don’t know if I need to run the furthest or be the fittest or sweat the least.  

As much as I want to pass these tests and as hard as I have tried, what I have found is that I need to appreciate where I am despite my fear of failing, my frustration in having to wait, and my disappointment in myself for not being great at testing.  My peace is found in knowing it’s all going to be okay.  My Mom so desperately tried to teach me that about all circumstances and I am sure she would say the same for this one.  She would tell me that the results do matter, however, if that was all that mattered, it’d be like watching the world pass by from the inside of a tall tower without stairs or access to anyone out there.  Like watching your world pass by and never experiencing it.  You'd just be waiting.  And you'd stop and lose focus on everything except for that one thing. And that, that is a horrible way to live. 

I cannot for the life of me remember who won the screaming game.  I don’t think it mattered.  But what does is that we recognize where we are and how things are affecting us.  Don’t live in a tower waiting for life to start.  Don’t let circumstances become so powerful in your life that everything else stops.  We do have a choice.  It may not seem like a clear path, but eventually by putting one foot in front of the other and taking it a few steps at a time, we form our own unique and beautiful path.

Robert Frost wrote a poem about two roads.  You can read about that here.  Basically he takes his own path.  We need to do that.  And ultimately we all do, but I guess what I am saying is trust yourself.  Forgive yourself.  Know that sometimes as much as our community cares about us, we do make a different decision and that is okay.  And know that “the best” isn’t always what we think it is.  You may win the screaming game precisely because you tripped over the darn crack in the sidewalk, or maybe you won't. 

In the time I have been waiting I’ve found the most freedom comes when I stop comparing my path with everyone else's path.  When I stop trying to convince myself that there is only one “right” way.  When I stop worrying about the ½ million directions I may not take.  My one and only direction and path in front of me is the right one for me.  I’m going to be okay and I don’t need to run the farthest in the game to win.  Winning isn’t the point, but taking my own path is.  And that is what I hope I find the strength to do.

I love the Sara Barellis song I Wanna Be Like Me.  I think community is way important.  And I do value everyone around me, but we are all so unique.  We can’t win at being me unless we recognize we aren’t going to be like each other.  We do need each other to do that, though.  But don’t sell yourself short.  Do the internal work and figure out what makes you tick, don’t be afraid to stand up straight, but also know when you need to make a change.  Know you’re going to lose at something, even if it’s not fair.  Know you’re also going to win.  And know that it’s all a very important part of your journey.  There’s not one path for everyone.  Thank the Lord!  My path is squiggly and it’s mine and I pray that I learn better how to embrace it. And everything is going to be okay.  

So get out there.  Win, lose, and draw.  Be like you.  Talk to your community and let them help shape your life.  You have choices and you are the best you.  And for goodness sake, pick up Oh the Places You’ll Go!  by Dr. Seuss and take in those solid nuggets of gold.  Love and blessings to you, community <3 <3 <3

Sometimes Quitting is the Better Choice

A few weeks ago I sat down next to an older man on a plane and we began to talk and talk and talk.  He told me about how he loved to dive and hike and travel.  He talked to me about his daughter and how much he loved life.  We talked about a really good book, Deep Survival, I had read that reminded me of one of the stories he told.  It became a memory I will not soon forget.  In the conversations we had on the way from California to Denver, I had told my friend that I’d been a coxswain when I was in college.  He had been telling me a story about a crew team and couldn’t quite come up with the name of the person who yelled in the boat, I cheerfully informed him, “I did that!  And the term is a coxswain.”  (I also informed him that coxswains do a lot more than just yell at a boat full of people J).  Further into our conversation I told him that I’d vehemently quit the sport as a sophomore in college.  I painted a picture of the coach I had who threw things and yelled insults at the girls I coxed for on the team.  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I walked away.  I told my friend that I’d always felt like I’d given up.  He ever so gently encouraged me and helped me to change my perspective by letting me know that he saw it as me choosing to move forward and leave something that wasn’t productive for me behind.

I’ve had similar situations transpire and I’ve chalked my decisions to walk away as giving up and letting people down and not being good enough and failing.  I never took the time to see that sometimes quitting or letting go or moving on isn’t giving up or regressing, it is moving forward. 

My wonderful, beloved father was really hard on me as a kid.  His motto was that if you fell off the horse to get right back up on and keep on going.  Since I was actually a horse rider this statement was figurative and literal.  I remember falling off the first time and how hard this lesson was drilled into me.  The horse: Muffin, the situation: cantering, Madison’s disposition: straight up fear, the trainer’s mission: put Madison on her most feared horse in her most feared situation AND push her…hard.  Attempt 1: epic fail.  I mean that in EVERY sense of the phrase.  I literally held on until I couldn’t hold on anymore as the horse cantered out of control and I went side saddle, THEN I let go, not knowing my foot was caught.  I was trampled on (hoof print on my chest; and yes, I had a bruise in that form) until finally the horse and I came to a stop and I landed on the ground, flat on my back.  AND then….Well, I got back on, of course, broken pride, bruises and all.  I know I mastered cantering on Muffin eventually, but I’m not sure if it happened that day.  This literal depiction of what it meant to be pushed and to get right back up and try hard was translated into every aspect of my life: soccer, school, the medical stuff I went through as a recovering cancer survivor, and everything else.  My Dad did it because he knew it’d help me.  He did it out of love.  But I think it also contributed to me thinking that quitting wasn’t an option because it (always) meant that I just wasn't trying hard enough.  And quitting automatically meant I'd failed.  In my Dad’s world, that wasn’t an option.  And I wanted so badly to show him that I wasn’t a quitter or a failure or not good enough.  I carried that with me into adolescence and adulthood. 

My friend on the plane helped me to see things differently.  He helped me to understand that quitting doesn’t always equivocate to failing.  Quitting can sometimes be a more productive choice in our lives.  Quitting also doesn’t (always) mean I failed my father, or Heavenly Father for that matter, or gave up or am not good enough.  Sometimes, quitting is okay.  Sometimes, quitting is the better choice. 

I had coffee with a friend yesterday morning and I shared a part of my story with him about the man I had met on the plane ride to Denver.  He commented about how I was actually a “champ” for the choice I had made in quitting the crew team.  He also said that in some sense the girls who didn’t quit the team and I myself had essentially gone through the same process of trying to recognize our worth.  I’d trapped myself in my brain thinking my quitting had equivocated to not being good enough, while these girls stayed on the team and endured hateful words and accusations that they weren’t good enough.  The difference, however, is that I’d protected myself from letting someone else label me that way; I just needed to (and need to now) stop beating myself up and recognize my own worth.  

I think we all need to learn to see from different perspectives.  However, we can’t do that by simply being inside of ourselves.  It’s important to get out there and share ourselves with other people, to open our hearts and reveal the depths of our souls (scary, I know!).  It’s also important to take the time to listen to what others have to say.  We have a lot to learn and a lot to teach each other.  So, people, go try it out!  Next time you’re in line at the coffee shop and the cute guy in line behind you is loving up on your super handsome (gets all the attention) dog, ask him how his day's been and what he’s been up to OR comment on his super cool bag pack.  You might just learn something about pilot licensing!  Or your friend on the plane will give you some super awesome advice about seeing the world differently.  Might I also suggest these two books: Daring Greatly by Brene Brown and If you Feel Too Much by Jamie Tworkowski.  Live it, love it, laugh, cry, hurt, celebrate, and experience <3 It's worth the trip, even with the hard falls ;P

Embracing the Grief and the Beauty of It Part II

Sometimes I really do wish I could go cry to my mom because I miss her so much.  I know she would understand.  I know she would know what to say.  She was a person that had seen me during every step of my life and knew more about certain aspects of my journey than I do, even now.  She was an incredible woman!  AND as much as I disliked how she wouldn’t want to let me go when I would see her (like tight hugs in which she refused to release me until I told her her to stop…then she’d kiss my forehead like it was the last time I was going to see her), I wish I could let her do that just one more time. 

I keep reading about grief and hearing about it from my amazing and loving friends, family, and community.  You all are beyond AMAZING!  Sometimes, however, I find it easier to just dial back all of the emotions.  To not talk about them because I can’t articulate them or am afraid I’ll start crying and won’t know how to stop.  AND not only do I think that I would be lost in that moment, but I don’t want you to be lost too.  It’s quite silly, I know!  

You all are such beautiful people.  Many of you have said over and over again “it’s okay to cry” and many of you more than once.  You’ve even said that I don’t have to hold it together all the time and losing control is okay.

I probably have lost control with you in the room and/or on the phone, but you might not have known it.  Or perhaps you might have thought I wouldn’t let you hold me while I cried, that I would try to suppress what I was feeling and push away.

I want a new reality or new realities.  I want to talk about those who I love very much and have lost.  I want to cry and show you all how much they mean to me and meant to those they loved so dearly.  I want to be strong enough to express just how much they meant to me and how much I miss them, God, do I miss them.  I want to show the world that healthy grieving is about painting a beautiful picture with laughter AND tears AND memories AND anger AND everything else that each of us experiences during the process (for we are all unique). 

A little while ago I had lunch with a friend.  My friend is a nurse and she was telling me about how she had a patient come in shortly after my mom passed who had a story similar to the one my mom lived the last day or so of her life on earth.  I’m not sure if she intended to ever so gently invite me to talk about my mom and give me a safe space to grieve, but she did.  I started crying and she reached out to hold my hand and comfort me.  I am so thankful for her and for the time where I showed myself that I am strong enough to let myself grieve. 

I do want to talk more about my mom.  I do want to grieve her loss for this shows the world how much it has lost.  So just know when I do start to talk about her, I will probably cry AND I will probably have a hard time crying in front of you; some more than others.  AND I might even want to make it stop.  So please do one or more of the following: give me a hug, tell me it’s okay, encourage me, ask more questions, and do your best to create a safe space.  When you ask how I am doing ask about my grieving, ask about what makes me think of my Mom. 

I can’t do this without you all.  I do need you.  And I want to share with you.  I believe we all help shape each other and that when a person leaves our life out of choice (ours or theirs) or not we suffer a loss.  I think we need to grieve that loss.  I think we are here to help each other through that.  I think it helps when we try to be real with each other about the emotional part of loss, but to also give ourselves and each other grace and space to do this.  And I think it helps too to ask and to let each other know we care. 

I’ll never be able to accurately articulate just how much each one of you means to me.  I appreciate you.  I love you to the moon and back.  And I hope you know how important you are to me.  I certainly wouldn’t be me without you!

Embracing the Grief and the Beauty of It

Grief can be a beautiful thing, if we let it.  It’s like a sunflower.  Deprive it of what it needs and it wilts.  Expose it to the necessary elements needed for growth and life and it thrives. 

Grief begs to be given the stage.  Cry with me it says.  Yell with me and throw things it insists.  Accept and move on it must.  It’s a rollercoaster sometimes and at others calm as the calmest sea.  Sometimes there’s no telling when the emotions will hit you, but if you’re to live you must EMBRACE it. 

I think many of us are afraid of grief and unsure of how to help someone through it.  So, I’d like to try and help us all just a little. Please remember that what we put into creating life might be ugly and the process might be messy and filled with mistakes, but like the sunflower it still blooms to a beautiful and vibrant source of life and happiness. 

I don’t expect anyone to know what to say.  I in fact don’t know what to say, not even to my sisters sometimes.  But, it’s okay to tell jokes and be yourself and not walk on eggshells.  I know sometimes we can’t help it because we just don’t know what to do, so we wind up doing the awkward turtle moves.  Don’t blame me if I laugh at you!  But also know that it is because I love you so deeply and cherish your efforts to care for me.  There is no right or wrong way to act around me.  I know you care and that is all that matters to me.  It’s also okay, for me, if you ask me questions.  I’ll talk your ear off (as some of you may know).  It helps to talk about it for me.  I might cry or laugh when it doesn’t make sense, but right now very little “makes sense.”  I think silence is okay too.  We get so busy being busy and forget that sitting in silence with a loved one can actually bring peace.  Sometimes I just need someone there. 

I might not have shown great affection towards you or even opened my arms when I came or left last time I saw you, but I want a hug.  Don’t let me come or go without giving me your best bear hug. 

My favorite activities are still my favorite activities: drinking coffee, climbing, hiking.  And I like to try new things too.  Let’s do them together!  

You actually don’t have to be around me to support me.  Happy thoughts, good vibes, and for those of you who have a relationship with Christ, prayer, are awesome.  Prayer I know has been carrying my family and I through this difficult time.  I know the Lord’s got it covered even if I don’t think it’s fair.  What really is fair, anyhow? 

If you’re Facebook friends with my sister, Ashley, you probably remember a status update she made about how you can help my sisters and I through this difficult time.  She talked about loving those you love with all your heart, living with no regrets, and forgiving others.  Most important to me is that you give life your best shot.  Don’t let the things of this world rain on your parade.  Life is difficult and no one really gets off easily.  We all have our own struggles and each person experiences things in a unique way.  We have a lot to teach each other.  Please don’t hold back your love.  And when you might think you’re going to lose it or when you do lose it, grab hold of someone’s hand (and I hope God’s too) and ask if they can help you get back on your feet. 

And don’t be afraid to just do a check in.  I believe the communication I’ve received since my Mom passed on has been in God’s perfect timing.  The check-ins, I love you texts, hugs, etc. have brought joy and peace to my heart.

Grief, grieving, death, and dying are words that we associate with things that might make us sick to our stomach.  But I hope we can all see the beauty, strength, growth, and love that it can ignite in us if we give into it.  It is not easy, and I think it is impossible to walk it alone.  But know that I am here with you, and I hope you’re here with me too.