Messy Monday:Teeth Marks, Home Decor, and Rewards

This is my third Messy Monday post and it is likely to be just barely still Monday when I finish it. It's been a heck of a week. Not bad or good depending on your definition of those terms, but for sure MESSY!

Teeth Marks:  I grew up in Southern California on a hillside with tons of field mice. One year my Barbie case housed my Barbie, her accessories, and a large family of mice. We didn't find out until after the smell and the holes revealed their invasion of Barbie's space.

When I found this, in our garage, I had a flashback to my childhood Barbie case/nest. I'm not going to lie, I gagged a little.

Battling anxiety daily, I find this disturbing. Who knows when those nasty critters will invade?

Seriously though, freaking about what COULD happen before it does or doesn't is just a ridiculous waste of time and energy (see below for another example of ridiculousness), or that's what my counselor Bob says...

Home Decor: I love having a table with decorations on it for the current season (looking at this picture it looks like a sea anemone has taken up residence-but it's a beautiful handmade wooden bowl with fake mums).

I am currently re-working my business model and clarifying what I do for people when I meet with them. This re-working is happening in my head, electronically, in spiral notebooks and now all over my dining room table. I love Donald Miller's StoryBrand system, but like everything else I do, it's MESSY.

Is anyone else out there decorating for an emergency? If anyone in our house or visiting needs to run out the door, we are prepared for just about anything. The cleats, boots, sneakers and goggles are all within easy reach. Up until a week ago there was a gift bag full of tampons and a recycled bag full of corning ware. We've decided to start scaling back on our emergency supplies, I mean decorations...

Reward: #1 (Unintentional ridiculous time waster)

One of our favorite foods is Hatch Chiles grown in New Mexico. According to Pinterest, anyone can roast, steam/cool, peel, seed, and eat them. I bought some thinking I could do that! The smell of roasting them was super yummy and I felt excited and motivated to bust out some awesome flavors! Then, I cover them and let them steam as they cool. YIKES! 

Not only are they ugly looking floppy things but, if you don't have gloves and have to use plastic bags on your hands to remove skin, seeds, stems, and the veiny stuff inside, they are a total pain the butt! I did it, but honestly, they are on a plate in the back of the fridge in a baggie because I have no idea if they turned out like anything good or not. Reward of tasty roasted chilies squished and shredded like the skin of the peppers! This was a slimy, messy, annoying experience. I don't recommend it, unless you have gloves and are extremely motivated.  

Reward #2
My reward this week for surviving our man-cubs teen years was an apple fritter and a couple episodes of Jane the Virgin (the reason for my affection for this show is for another time). But, the reason for the apple fritter, I will explain.

Once you have escaped the toddler years and your cubs become school age, you can peacefully nibble on the donut of your choice without begging, pleading, crying, wailing and reminders you have to S-H-A-R-E. I did buy my cubs their own donut but they always wanted some of mine. Now, I buy the donut after they are deposited at school. I buy one. To eat with my HOT coffee. It is a rare delight worth indulging from time to time.

Being an overweight woman, buying a donut comes with a GIANT bucket size serving of shame. This is nonsense, but still embedded in my being. This will be another blog at some point. I wanted to mention it in case you feel it too.

Reward #3 

Finishing books. Man-cubs in bed. My Love sleeping/snoring beside me. Grab one from the stack of started-not-yet-finished and get it done! But this one. It bit me at the end. The challenge he threw down torqued me more than any books I've read or listened to in a while. A different kind of bucket list. I won't ruin his do-something-with-what-you've-learned punchline but, damnit. I can't stop thinking about it. I finished the book, but he "STARTed SOMETHING" in me that I have to finish now. Sigh. I'll write about that too. Meanwhile, get your own copy. 

Most of my Messy Monday points this week were about the tension I feel about unanswered stuff:

Will the mice come in the house? 

Will this new business model help me help more people? 

Will anyone in my family need to run from the house grabbing cleats and googles at the same time? 

Will I ever stop believing Pinterest has my best interests in mind?

Will the shame of buying a donut ever go away?

Will I have the guts to follow through on the challenge at the end of this book?

This week's blog is about messy stuff, not relationships. But, in my experience, learning how not to freak out at the messy stuff, helps you practice for not freaking out as badly when relationships get messy. 

Do You Live Like You're LOVED?

I'm writing with the Five Minute Friday peeps that I adore. What an amazing community to be a part of!

This week's word prompt is LOVED.

This is immediately what came to mind after the month I've had:

This month I've had a lot of opportunities to focus on my faults and shortcomings (I have that opportunity daily, but some months are more intense than others). The specifics are unnecessary to share, but the fact remains - I am changed.

To live LOVED is different than trying to get love. When I live LOVED I don't have expectations of returned love. I don't need it. I already know I am LOVED. When I'm trying to be seen, appreciated, acknowledged, then any attempt others make to love me falls short. No amount of love, time or attention can compensate for the black hole created by my trying to get love and prove that I can or should be LOVED.

These are the opportunities that presented themselves.
To choose anger instead of grace.
To embrace pain instead of hide under the bed with my dog.
To push back on alarm with faith or freak out and go back under the bed.
To let heartbreak submerge me or lean in to the relationship.
To give back what I have been given or withhold in resentment.
To speak freedom and life or shame and condemnation.

Honestly, I did a bit of all of the above. Except climb under the bed - there just isn't room. When I was able to choose (moment by moment) to believe how LOVED I am, I could eventually (I am not perfect!) choose grace, embrace pain, find my faith, lean in, give, and speak life. It wasn't pretty, easy or fun. But, it happened - messy, uncomfortable, and stressful. The challenges remain, but so does my great big God who reminds me through nature, beauty, people, animals, and circumstances beyond my understanding that I am LOVED.

Being Brave and Living Courageous

I’ve loved the ocean and water my whole life. It’s been a part of the metaphors of my battle with Depression and my battle with my weight. The ebb (low intensity) and flow (high intensity), high tide (eyebrow deep), low tide (all open and exposed), and rip currents (stuff you don’t see coming but if you fight it you sink and drown).

I’ve hated my body since I started puberty in 4^th grade. Yes, that young.

I’ve been much thinner, and I’ve been fatter than I am now. Regardless, the wrestling match over my body weight has felt ridiculously long and obscenely consuming.

I’m listening to Sara Bareilles sing “Brave”. The lyrics have fed my soul since I heard it for the first time – a friend sent it to me as an encouragement in a deeply tragic and painful time. I forgot how powerful it is. Therefore, I write. Honestly. Letting you in on the process.

Continuing to fight, wrestle, wrangle the weight I lose and gain and will lose again takes courage. Facing the SHAME of the decades of dieting, lifestyle changes, workout routines, planning, preparing and careful grocery shopping, and even weight rebound gains after having 85% of my stomach removed requires me to be BRAVE.

See, I know now, after doing this for my entire adult life, that I don’t hate myself, I hate the FIGHT with my body. When I back off and let my guard or my intensity down the fat rises with the predictability of the rising tide.

Shit.

I know. Potty mouth.

Then I read this blog yesterday and I found all the answers.

Anywhere I look to you or anyone else for my value or identity is going to put me on a pendulum – swinging one way or another - trying to behave/live/be a certain expected/preferred/desired way. I’ve done the big “Bird” to the world before and said I don’t care, but I do. I always do.

I can’t be the only one struggling here. We all need hope. We all need to know victory is possible. If I don’t shoot for victory will you have the courage to? Maybe. Hopefully. I hope I’m not the ONLY one you look to for complete inspiration – yikes! But we should look to each other for hope, right?

And of course, some of the spiritual ones would quote the scripture from my beloved Bible that says, 

“Such hope [in God’s promises] never disappoints us, because God’s love has been abundantly poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” Romans 5:5 (Amplified version-one of my favorites).

But what if I AM disappointed?

I am no Bible scholar, so this is just me talking, I’ve hoped in God’s promises almost all my life. There must be nooks, crannies, hidden passages of my heart where the disappointments hide. The abundant Love washes through my heart but doesn’t penetrate the places I’ve tucked away to hide my hopelessness and disappointment.

So, what to do?

Do I invite Spirit who was given to me to pour through even those places? I have before. It’s happened. I’m not just typing. I truly KNOW it’s real. The healing Power is real. By my own doubts, I give in to the “feel”, but I don’t stand firm on the Truth I know. Again, the tide pushes forward, sometimes only splashing hard enough to shake my balance, and other times with such might that I’m leveled. Flooded. Pondering surrender to the whim of the “feel”.

There is no easy way out. No easy solution. I am what and who I am. I like me. I don’t find me ugly or disturbing. But I am SICK OF THE STRUGGLE. SICK OF THE SHAME. SICK OF THE GUILT.

In the past I would have curled up and cried and said, “I can’t” a lot. Now, I have too much to do and I’m angry that these current things are slowing me down. I’m angry about the energy it sucks from my life instead giving life.

Now, because I’ve learned to “Own It” (take FULL responsibility with no excuses) I’m focused on moving forward despite the waves crashing at my throat. I can swim in rough waters. I can hold my breath and wait to float to the surface. I can push through yet another wave - physical, mental, or emotional, to reach the oxygen and breathe, if I stay steady on Truth.

When I don’t, I go under again. Thrashing for the surface while gasping for air.

I started my company, Live Courageous Coaching because I knew I wasn’t the only one struggling, wrestling and tangling with areas where I feel like I can’t seem to get traction. Owning, running, and LIVING Courageous keeps me honest about who I am, where I’m going and how I’m getting there. One day at a time, no matter the tide.