Mirror Mirror, Where Did I Go?

Ever looked in a mirror and wonder who is staring back at you?

I turned 54 this past June, and I didn’t even realize it until a month later when a friend pointed this fact out. “What?” I reacted, not believing my ears. I remember going into denial.

“No, I’m not. Really? Oh Shit!”

Flash forward a month. I’m reviewing old VCR tapes my father made of family Christmases, and vacations he and mom too. I find a video of a wedding rehearsal when I was twenty-six.  I watch a slender woman who is preparing for her big day. Her face is flawless, sans wrinkles, puffiness, and dark circles under her eyes.  I breathlessly observe her interact with the people helping to ensure their big day is a success.  She’s focused, healthy and energetic, full of smiles, and joyful as she laughs and makes jokes during what can be a stressful experience.  I find myself asking, who is that woman?

I’ve been asking myself this question a lot over the last year when I look in the mirror, get on a scale, or go to the doctor. I ask myself this question day end and day out as I come home from work exhausted and drained of energy, disinterested in life.

The woman in the video is a woman who’s lived a lot of life.  A marriage and a divorce.  A miscarriage and the realization she’s never to have a child. A move to Colorado and a move back home to Kentucky. Failed attempts at owning a business and self-employment. Several short-lived relationships, and one long-term relationship that broke her heart. Financial hardships, struggles, bankruptcies and a foreclosure. Loss of fur-babies, a mother, and now a father suffering Lewy-Body Dementia. And finally, a sense of let-down by none other than herself.

I suppose the mid-fifties are the “mid-life crisis”?  I thought I had that in my late forties. Yes, I have made some rotten choices, though decisions I felt were in my best interest at the time.  I held on to hopes and dreams far too long when I needed to let them go sooner. I consoled myself with food rather than the comfort of friends or healthier options. I’ve isolated myself when I needed to be surrounded by supportive and loving people.

I am who I am today because of my choices, actions, and decisions; all of which took me down the path of where I am today. We all are the results of our choices, actions and decisions. Today is a day I can implement change, but the daily struggle of changing is real. We fall into the ruts, such as a demanding job that exhausts me, leaving little to nothing left of myself for myself. Exhaustion that leaves me unmotivated and disinterested in my home life and self-care, and feeling anti-social. Heaven is coming home to beagles who are happy to see me, and only need me to open the back door a couple times in the evening and fill their food and water bowls.  They demand so little of me where it feels the rest of the world demands more than I can give.

I realize that I am at choice in how year 55 plays out. A week in Colorado, away from my life offered clarity on who needs to be first on my list of priorities. This concept is foreign to me as I have always been taught to put others first. I have willingly put others first before me. It’s who I am – I believe in service to others. But to what sacrifice?  I lost somewhere along the way the important lesson if taking care of myself.  I came home to serve my parents. I have served people with developmental disabilities. I serve low income families and their children. I serve the staff who serve those families. Sometimes, I want to scream, who’s taking care of me?

But the answer is obvious.  I am responsible for me: my life choices, my actions, my decisions.  I am blessed to have a small support group of friends and family who are there for me, when I need help and ask for it. I am blessed to have a great job that allows me to make a difference in people’s lives. I must remember to take care of me first, so I am in a good place to support others. You know, that

whole oxygen mask thing.

And so, to the young woman in the video I didn’t recognize, I love you. And I know you’re still somewhere within me. You’re smarter and wiser. I just need to find your wide-eyed expectation of great things that lie ahead, even at the age of 54. I call forward the Light and Joy you brightly and willingly shined twenty-six years ago forth to reflect from me as I look into that mirror today. I am receiving you with open arms and cannot wait feel you again.  

Share your reactions to this post in the comment section and let the author know if what she's feeling resonates. Do you recognize yourself in the mirror? Are you finding it hard to shift with the aging process? We are in this journey together!

Lessons from Falling Off a Horse

I recently took a spill off a horse named Pride. 

Pride is a tall, strong dark beauty, a steed that keeps me safe, high and mighty above all others who do not understand or see my way of thinking. Pride held me high within self-righteousness, above and beyond others and their hearts. But when enough hearts collectively feel hurt and anger, they come together as one to speak loudly against Injustice, the weapon that threatens the life of a mighty steed such as Pride.

Once on the ground and licking my wounds, feeling victimized and unappreciated, I protested because I knew I was right and they were wrong. I attempted to stand and remount Pride, taking offense and placing blame on everyone else. Pride huffed, stomping the ground with her hoof over the injustice, standing by to protect me as I found excuses and reasons for being thrown off my high horse. But in protecting me, Pride over zealously dealt a few blows, rearing in protest, knocking me down again as I attempted to stand against the perceived injustices. The harder I fought them, the harder Pride fought too, until her efforts to defend delivered a final blow; knocking me out, leaving me breathless and helpless in the muck and mire of the cold hard truth. If I stood once more, Pride would continue to fight, and ultimately, I would be battered and defeated. I realized then, until I sent Pride away, I would never recover from my fall.

We all have a high horse named Pride that misleads us into believing we are safely rooted in what we believe is the truth and that which we are unwilling to yield. A truth we are unwilling to acknowledge the remotest possibility that we could be wrong. A truth that tightly reins in our belief to make us feel okay; just within our choices, our behaviors, our actions, despite leaving others feeling hurt and unfairly treated. Pride allows us to sit tall, above all and others, protected from lowering ourselves to the level of those we’ve hurt, disappointed or upset. She keeps us from looking at these individuals and seeing their points of view, their perception of who we’ve been or what we’ve done through their own eyes. Pride protects us from realizing how we made others feel less than, misled, and worthless.  From this “above it all” mount, we take comfort in the unwillingness, even a reluctance to admit wrongdoing. Admitting we are wrong is tied to our sense of self-worth, because if we admit we are wrong, we perceive ourselves as weak. Pride protects us from coming down to a ground level and recognizing our weaknesses through the eyes of others.

Muddied, bruised and exhausted in my fight to get back into Pride's saddle, I finally realized through the eyes of those around me, I was wrong. I had been harsh, impatient and demanding towards those who felt unjustly treated. I thanked Pride, smacked her hindquarter, and sent her on her way, choosing to stand on the ground with those I had wronged so I may see myself through their eyes. I placed myself in their hearts, their shoes, and witnessed from their perspective how I had treated them. Only then did I realize I had stood in similar shoes during my lifetime with other authority figures, gently reminded how unjustly treated I had felt.

With this newfound perspective, I began the healing process of restoring my relationships with these individuals, as well as myself. I practiced the five languages of an apology (Gary Chapman) and humbled myself to accept responsibility for my actions with the promise to move among them rather than ride high above them. I apologized – not with a superficial “I’m sorry” but with heartfelt recognition of how I made them feel and by acknowledging my faults and mistakes. And more importantly, I asked for forgiveness. Forgiveness removes the barrier created by the offense and opens the door to restoring trust between two people, and thus the relationship. Without genuine contrition, without forgiveness, one may be able to move on from the experience, but the relationship may never be restored to its original dynamic.

Sitting high and mighty cost me the trust, respect and love of those I hurt. I now ride a beautiful white thoroughbred named Grace. With Grace, I ride alongside others, rather than above them, With Grace, I am connecting more deeply with them, deeply restoring our relationships. And now, I move through the process of forgiving myself.  By doing so, I allow myself to deepen a connection with myself, and God in a healthier, loving and self-respecting way. Grace keeps me grounded in God. Without her, my relationship with God, myself, and others would be forever diminished.

Life is a Box of SHI(f)Ts

It has been a while since my last blog post. I haven't felt the call to write. I haven't felt the space to write. The Universe is opening that space, urging me to open my Third Eye, and challenging me in the latest shift of my Life. Read more below.

You never know what Life has planned for you.  It all seems set, the path determined, and then the God comes in like Emeril and goes BAM! And suddenly you’re on a new path, a detour on which to
travel.

My "determined" path was mapped out as follows:  Move to Owensboro to take care of mom, then after a brief stay in Evansville/Newburgh, return to Owensboro to take care dad. Live in Owensboro until that time comes to pass when Dad himself passes to a better Life, and no longer needs me.

Yet a new path has been assigned and I’m in this weird space of uncertainty.  I really hate that space, don’t you?  It means decisions have to be made, and then doubts come up, the ones repressed by what you thought was your path determined, a life defined. 

• Doubts that beg the questions of what, when, where, how.
• Doubts that command I let go and let God do the figuring out of things.
• Doubts that have to be silenced so I may listen, and clearly hear the intuitive guidance of my Highest self.
• Doubts that stir impatience within, the need to know NOW, the need to know the answers so the waves of anxiety created by the tide of uncertainty can calm, ease the breathlessness, the knots in the stomach.

I have felt an uneasiness since summer. I have sensed major changes and a shift making its way since early fall.  And in that knowing, I have felt myself spiraling downward into an eddy of uncertainty and anxiety.  Everything around me, that which I felt confident and certain began imploding into a mass destruction of complacency.  I really should’ve known not to become complacent, because when you do, it is like Emeril’s frying pan over the head – BAM! You aren’t ready for it, even in the knowing and sensing something was coming.

The whacks upside the head came one at a time.  

BAM! - The overwhelming sense of depression, hopelessness, along with the questions of why bother with life.  

BAM! - A realization that I had not been myself lately at work, and was struggling with how to address it.

BAM! - The blindside confirming my realizations, but through the sense of feeling utterly thrown under the bus of just how awful person I had become in my stress-induced life of hopelessness and depression.

BAM! - Believing I couldn’t feel and go any lower, my sole/soul purpose for returning to Owensboro – my father – must move two hours east where he will be safer, and ultimately happier. 

God had a plan and a hand in each and every one of these unexpected mayhem experiences to ensure I return to the purpose driven path I am meant to travel during this life experience of mine.

Now in Owensboro, I am standing in the intersection of “Well Shit” and “Now What?” God is inviting me to revisit my God-given healing and intuitive gift which I uncovered and discovered while in Colorado; this gift I chose to walk away from and shut down six years ago out of fear. I am being asked to open my Third Eye again for others, wider and more willingly than before; to see beyond what is, and to share this gift with others. I’m gulping as I lean into this uncertainty, trusting and knowing God and my spirit guides shall provide clarity and guidance. I forgot how incredibly exasperating, yet humorous a ride these SHIfTs can be. It’s been a while.

I’m buckling my seat belt and hanging on. See ya on the other side.