Losing My Shit

As much as I know the right things to do in stressful situations, sometimes I don’t. It’s embarrassing when I don’t listen to my own advice.

Even though I practice and teach yoga and meditation, live in the present moment, question my stressful ego thoughts, pray, and do lots of self-care, and coach others to do the same, my emotional brain takes over. When it happens, it’s not pretty. The saying is true, ‘When mama ain’t happy, nobody is happy.’

Once in a Blue Moon, I have an exaggerated, over reaction to others. There are roughly 41-months that have two Full Moons in every century. So on average, once every two-and-a-half years, I ‘lose my shit’ on such a grand scale it will be remembered for years to come. It will take me a few months to get over feeling like a fraud and that I should quit what I do as a profession and just get a job at a toll-booth attendant.  This way I don’t have to talk to people (except give directions). By the way, I’m highly qualified to give directions to strangers; it’s one of my spiritual gifts.

I invest in big relational experiences with unbridled optimism—in the hopes of big relational returns for everyone. Last year, we lived in Arizona for the winter to be closer to family. This year, we've moved across country to Florida and now have two adult-kids living with us (Kevin and his fiancé, Tiffany). There has been a flurry of change to sort out in my life. Jokingly, some of the change has been beyond my ‘evolution’ as a person; I suppose I’m not as mature as I thought. 

There is a prayer I’ve heard, “God spare me from the desire for love, approval, and appreciation.” When I have an over abundance of these three expectations out of sync, it’s only a matter of time until I have a meltdown. Most of the time, I keep them sensibly in check. However, when things aren’t going the way I imagined, when I’m away from lifetime support systems, I’m sleep deprived, I need to make too many personal decisions, I’m dominated by fearful future-thinking, I live with people who have different objectives, or I have been stress-eating, then my own personal negative energy builds up and I ‘lose my shit.’ 

It won’t be the last time I feel vulnerable and exposed. I’m human and Blue Moons happen. It’s nobody’s fault but my own. I’ve learned a lot. I got ‘quiet and still’ and did a deep inner dive. I asked trusted people to speak truth to me. I’ve said my apologies and ‘owned my shit’. I thanked Kevin, Rich, and Tiffany for helping me find my way back to my conscious “True-Self” (the holy place within where divine love always resides, the place where I am not wounded or disappointed). They reflect to me my insecurities, fears, and control-issues. To which Kevin said, “You’re welcome!”

Sometimes, cognizant inner light bulb moments happen in an instant—like flipping a switch on, I see what I’ve done and what I need to do moving forward. The world feels brighter, the birds are singing, and there is a bounce in my step. It’s taken me a bit longer to rebound this time around; it’s probably because of feeling lonelier without my tribe of friends. And now I have extra emotional and physical weight—a reminder to me that I’ve got more inner and outer work to do. That’s not a bad thing. Every enormous Blue Moon illuminates my darkness. 

. 

Florida Life

I'm a Floridian now! 

What does that mean? 

If you need us, we'll be at the beach!  

Come visit soon! ;-) 

Moving Day

I'm exhausted. We (Me, Kevin, Tiffany, Rich, and Fred) are all in Nashville right now on our first leg of the journey to FL. Maybe I'll write more about our permanent move from Illinois to Florida later?  I ran out of time to see everyone. I ran out of time to write a proper blog. So many emotions. So much is happening. While I'm excited to move to Florida for the next adventure. I've never been good at goodbyes. 

 "It's a storage locker on wheels!!!" That's what I said when I saw the truck pull up. Rich thought it would all fit. We all knew it wouldn't. So Rich & Kevin will turn around after we drop off the first load in FL and go back to IL pick up the second load. 

Could NOT have done this move without my brother Mike, Christine, Ralph, Kevin & Tiffany

Moving Day happened the same night as the Blood Moon Eclipse 

I got to say goodbye to many special people. 51 years of life here in IL. But the hardest goodbye was with my little brother, Mike. 

Guess who locked the keys to the van in the house? 

Fred riding shotgun in style 

I Can't Live Without Books

I Can't Live Without Books ~ Thomas Jefferson 

We are in the countdown phase to permanently moving to Florida. I’ve been packing and purging.

We’ve had a few garage sales to get rid of the clutter I’ve managed to collect over the last 10 years living on Pomeroy Ave. I think Rich only has about 5 things he owns; he reminds me it’s all my stuff.

We have managed to amass thousands of books over the years together. We’re a few levels just below hoarders. Thankfully, we had a large space above the garage. The entire loft was a library. We both love books. Some people like shoes, purses, jewelry, sport equipment or tools. Rich and I love books. On our honeymoon we found the first of its kind discount bookstore. It was like going to Mecca. We had to buy luggage to cart home the books.

We knew we were meant for each other when we went to the book store for the first time. We walked in and smiled at each other and said, “See ya later.” I’d go off to one section of the book store and he’d go off to another. Occasionally we’d meet in the same aisle—each holding a stack of books in our hands. We were in our happy place. We could stay as long as we’d like without feeling bad.

After a few hours we’d meet near the comfy chairs or on the floor in a corner and weed through our stacks of books together. Sometimes he’d look at me and say, “Only one!” I’d laugh to myself and think, “okay, whatever you say”, then justify to him at the checkout line why I really needed this ‘other’ book on Ketogenics.

I’ve gone through more book genre stages than Rich. He typically buys History, Business, Religion, and occasionally Fiction books. I’ve gone through all those book phases too, and have filled bookshelves. However, I’m a non-fiction junky. Non-fiction is subjective and addictive. I’ve got books on Self-Help, Autobiographies, Diet and Nutrition, How-To, Travel, Music, Animals, Yoga and Meditation, and Scientific Resources—just to name a few. I’ve yet to find a book on how to stop your book obsession. 

I’m not a Nook or a Kindle or iPad person. In fact, my iPad sat on my nightstand for two years until I sold it at our recent garage sale for forty-dollars. I like the feeling of the appropriate weight of a book in my hands. I like turning real pages. I make notes and underline everything. However, sadly, I can’t say I’ve retained all the information.

My perfect day: under a tree, by the lake, on a hammock, with a book, eating pate, cheese and crackers, and drinking ice tea or wine out of an adult-sippy cup (depending on the time of day). 

There have been many despairing times I was drawn to the right book at the right time. Subconsciously, I needed encouragement or a smack upside the head. Thirsty for knowledge, I’d sop up the wisdom of others like a desperate dog trying to quench her thirst. I can’t count how many times books gave me motivation to get back on my path.   

  

It was a difficult decision to realize that we had to get rid of most of our books. I told Rich we could only take six bins each full of books; twelve bins total, no exceptions. That’s a lot of books to purge. I kept saying, “If we can check it out of the library, it has to go.”

I’d like to tell you that it was a spiritual experience to ‘lighten’ ones load. I kept waiting for the energetic shift as I let go of my attachments. The only good thing that came out of our purging was if we died, we saved our kids days of back-breaking work.

When my grandmother was being transitioned from her apartment to the Senior Health Center, she had to discard her books. It was one of the few times I saw my grandmother become undone. She’d hand me one book at a time, and look at me with earnestness, saying, “Kimmy, promise me you’ll read this book.” She was entrusting them to my care. They were the Classics, and her childhood memories.  After about the tenth book, without thinking I said, “Gram, I can’t promise you I’ll read all of these books.” She got up and walked over to her Day-Bed, laid down, and turned her back on me and started to cry. Today, I understood why it was so painful. Getting rid of my beloved books was a bibliophile’s Sophie’s Choice. It put me in a funk too.

We sold as many books as we could for a quarter each at the garage sale. Rich calculated over the years, we’ve spent about $40,000 in books. We had about half of that in random books up in the loft/library above the garage. We sold about $200 at the garage sale. Yeah, that was painful too. What we didn’t sell we packed up in large black garage bags and gave to Purple Heart Veterans Donations.

God was bracing me with this first wave of goodbyes. Next month will be the hardest: saying goodbye to our lifelong friends and family. Like my books, I want to take them all with me.

Getting Still

There is a buzzing in my head. My chest feels tight. 

 I have to get still. 

There is nothing to fix. 

I let life show up.

It presents itself in all it's glory.

Nature organizes my thoughts.

I'm reminded all is well. 

30 Years Ago My Life Changed

30 years ago, I was anxiously waiting for you to come into the world (my world). You were late. 10-days late. We were going to name you Eric Michael.  Nobody liked the name. So I asked everyone at the table to write down an Irish name.  All the names were put in a hat and I pulled out Kevin Robert. Your great-grandmother, G.G. Melley, chose that name. Kevin comes from the 6^th century Irish, patron saint, St. Caoimhin, from Dublin. It means: gentle, handsome, or beloved. I think it suited you for 30 years. 

I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again to mark the occasion so it’s etched indelibly in your memory: you were the answer to my prayer. God knew I wanted to be a mom. When you arrived, you became my ‘Kevin from Heaven.’ I promised God I’d be a good mom. Even though He knew I was woefully under skilled to be a mom at 21-years old, He must have believed the intention of my heart.

What I didn’t know then but understand more now, is God selected YOU to be the one who would grow me up. You were my teacher. You were brought into my life to help me become more fully conscious. What does that mean? To be free to discover my true self; discover who I really was in this one and only life here on Earth. To be led into a million experiences that would show me my conditioned false self. You would be a guide of Creation to keep me sane, awake, aware, and engaged in all things that truly mattered in life: Love & Being.

The first few years were a walk in the park. I loved every time I had to wake up in the middle of the night with you. It was my favorite time. It felt like nobody in the world was awake but the two of us. I was in awe of the stillness of the night and the little soul I held in my arms. It was a timeless feeling; I’ve never forgotten what that felt like. I’d sing to you softly and hold you close until you fell asleep again. This little human mesmerized me with unlimited potential in my arms.  I was full of gratitude to God. I imagined that God was getting a kick out of watching me dig this whole new mom-experience too. 

Kev, you were so curious and watched my every move. You were also intuitive and knew when I was struggling, fully present, or preoccupied. You’d grab my face and make me look you in the eyes. Oh my goodness, those eyes! You spoke a dozen languages in that one glance. I knew what you were saying every time you looked at me like that. And then you'd smile.  

 You wanted my undivided attention. I didn’t always give it to you. As you got a little older, I’d distract you with cheerios, a toy, or TV. I didn’t realize until much later, that what I was struggling with wasn’t the piles of laundry or dishes that kept me busy. No, those things never bothered me. I was distracted by expectations, judgements, and comparisons (the three evils of my life). I had to be the perfect mom with the perfect son who reflected me well. Unknowingly, I welcomed ego and fear into our experience and it changed me; it changed us. (I'm still undoing it.) By living in the future (in my mind), worry and the heavy responsibility of being a parent overwhelmed me. I can’t get all those distracted moments back. 

I tell you this so when you’re a parent, one day you won’t fall into the trap of looking for others to validate you as a parent (or human-being). When you were first born, I was fully aware of each delightful, surreal parenting moment. Obsessing over what others thought of me took me off the natural path. 

You were patiently with me though. Being a good teacher, you kept trying to get my attention to come back to where life is to be fully lived. Sometimes I was able to play on your playground. Other times, I was hijacked by whatever life experience was happening. My emotions, fears, and expectations of the mind held me in prison. Being a parent will do a number on you if you are not grounded in the present moment or even moderately mature (Sorry about the not being mature part. As you grew up, so did I.) 

I can’t believe it’s been 30 years since you were born. A lot can happen in 30 years. I know by now you’ve gotten a good taste of both the woes and the wonders of life. Let me speak about the woes. 

  

We all have issues. Most, if not all our issues come from a long line of conditioned thoughts, limited beliefs and experiences we learned. Let me say that again. Yes, most, if not all our issues are learned conditioned thought!!!! (You will have to consciously undo what’s been passed on to you.) Nobody’s really to blame; it’s what we learned from one generation to another (especially if our families are unconscious and living out of their false self too). 

Multiply that by all the people you work with and those whom you're in relationship with. They too have their woes (and are probably unconscious to one degree or another). And all our woes are colored by our perceptions of what we THINK should be happening now. We RESIST every experience small or large and demand that it bend to our will. We catastrophize everything—mostly small dumb things. We have no idea how to embrace woes and worries. Life is reflecting back to us truth about ourselves; we don't want to face it. We never question our frantic, inner dialogue, or unhappiness. It’s always other people’s fault. We’ve been conditioned to blame. Everybody does it.

We miss out on the brilliant opportunity to lean-in and learn to accept what IS reality (good, bad, or indifferent) and love it. We don’t have to be a 50-year old person living in a perpetual 3-year old tantrum psyche. We’ve got it all wrong when it comes to woes. We demand that life rise up to meet us. No, it’s the other way around. We are to rise up and meet life where and when it presents itself to us. Life is trying to get our attention; trying to teach us. That’s when life gets real. No more games. No more false self. No more distractions. No more woeful thinking when life is, well, woeful. Life is life (as my son once told me). 

The Irish saying: ‘There are only two things to worry about: either you are well or you are sick. If you are well, then there is nothing to worry about; but if you are sick there are two things for you to worry about; either you get well, then there is nothing to worry about, or you die. If you die, then there are two things to worry about; either you go up or down. If you go up then there is nothing to worry about. But if you go down, you will be so busy shaking hands with old friends you won’t have time to worry.’ 

  

Unless we are dying, nothing is ever that bad. And if we are dying, that’s not all bad either; it’s onto the next adventure. To those times I lived in Woeful-land, I’m sorry you had to be confused by my sadness and my resistance to problems. I wish I had done a better job of always having my sh#% together. That said, over time (a long time) you inspired me to stay away from negative people and surround myself with people who lifted me up. Everything I ever did (deep down) to get myself on track, was because of being your mom. I seriously wanted to be a positive mom who was so obnoxiously bright, the sun would be jealous of my light. 

And now to the wonders of life: We all have an inner light. It takes an undistracted mind to see it and feel it and live it. I see the image of God in you and others more than ever. We come into the world with a glorious bright love-light. Yet spend the rest of our life putting it out with woes and worries. I’ve learned that is an unnecessary way to live. 

Since you’ve left home and moved on in your life, I’ve had lots of time to figure out where I missed the mark (not for the purposes of living in the past or putting myself down, but for the purposes of learning) so I could be awake to the wonder happening NOW. I’m not as fearful or preoccupied with parenting responsibilities, I’m able to BE STILL & KNOW.

It took some time and some practice (through meditation, movement, mindful living, and prayer) but I've got it down. Learning how to be present and live in the moment has changed EVERYTHING! I don’t need to be as entertained by others. Just like when you were a little boy, and I could sit an watch you for hours, I’ve gotten back to that with Life: I could sit and watch Life for hours. The love for MORE sacred experiences (besides even you) has expanded. I never thought there would be room for more love than I had for you, but it happened. Just when I thought I had lived the best years of my life being your mom, Life gave me more surprises and adventures. 

I thought I was the one who had to love Life (embrace it or not embrace it depending on what was happening). Not so, Life has loved me all along. I’m just now able to be aware of this remarkable dance that Life invited me to do with it. If you thought being a parent was fun, just wait--it gets even better. The best is yet to come!

The last 30 years have been like school: reports, and late-night homework, tests, fire drills, and finally graduations. That's what I thought it was supposed to be. I wish I had lived the last 30 years like it was recess: PLAYED more, laughed more, shared more, and connected more with others. 

Whether you become a parent or not, I encourage you to let Life be your teacher. Life won’t test you. You’ll test yourself. You’ll know when you’re on the right path and when you’re on the wrong path; intuitively we know it. Life will just keep presenting messages to show you if you’re living out of fear or out of wonder. We need good mentors to help us grow up and encourage us on the right path. Life is a kind and gracious teacher. If you have kids someday, they will be your teachers too.  

I can’t thank you enough for being my Kevin from Heaven; for changing my life for the better. I’ve delighted in you for 30 years (Okay, sometimes I was a little more than miffed with you!) ;-) And in those moments, you are still teaching me about myself to this day! Everything is useful and good. 

It’s your golden birthday: 30 years on the 30^th.  Happy Birthday, Kevin. I love you! I wish you peace, happiness, awareness, and love the next 30 years.  

~ Forever, Mom