Here is my simplify your life tip of the day. UNSCRIBE.
I have taken time to go through all my junk mail over the past month. I have clicked on all the newsletters, promotions, store advertisements, even my Groupon because I don't use it. I went to the very bottom with the fine print and throught the unscribe process. This takes about five seconds in most cases to check a box and confirm your e-mail address. Easy peasy. I kept stores that I frequent and send coupons through their newsletters such as Lucy, J.Jill, Gymboree, Bed Bath and Beyond, Micheals, and Hobby Lobby. All other stores, I really don't frequent or they don't have cupons, just ads. so I am not wasting my time looking at ads. Then, I also have newsletters from galleries, museums, and breast cancer support sites like the Young Survivor Coalition and Army of Women. I have found that I can sort those now in my inbox. they come up as newsletters and I can set them to save only the most recent one for so many days then it is deleted. How cool is that? So guess how many junk mails I get a day now? Maybe ten tops. I am still working on a few stragglers. But I bet I get it down to those stupid spammers and Canadian drug offers. Oh, and those lovely letters from the board housewife wanting to get some girl on girl action with me. Oh, and you have to love the english widow who just lost her husband and is stuck some place in china with no money and wants you wire her money...really? So go off and unscribe. What a burden to take out of your life to simplify.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Restorative Graces
Yesterday, was a day to restore. Though the morning walk to school with my two little boppers was like walking in a wind tunnel as Mothe Nature pulled out her Armagedenden winds of Colorado on trash day none the less. Bbut, finally in my car, I drove to yoga. I felt a little anticipation of uncertainty as what to expect of myself and of my yoga at the studio. But, I knew, this was exactly what I was supposed to Ben doing. So I swung in, put a bandanna over my buzzed head, and sighed onto my Matt in the corner. The experience was amazing. I completed a 90minute Hot Flow Vinyasa course my way. I took my time. I easier into poses, used my hands on my legs when needed, and flowed. I breathed and flowed. I modified. No I could not pull a half lotus tree pose of full expression with cactus arms as is my favorite expression. No, I used a kickstand of the "up" foot to support my standing leg and full expressed my heart opening rise in my chest. A grounded tree so strong and beautiful. And that was the perfect expression. At the end of practice, I thanked my Yogini. I told her how, they know what I am going through at the studio, they have all taught me so much that I could do that. I could use their warn room, meditativite guidance, and the community to create what my body needed. Deanna, had taught me about my physical muscles and mechanics. Stacy, has taught me about the mind and spirit, Lauren has taught me about my shoulders and hyper extension my my elbows so that I can move into down dog, plank and full sun salutes with control, power, and easy. And Tiffany, well, she was the instructor today. So I smiled and told her that she gives the gift of the power moves like headstands. And, that I am excited to move back into those poses when my body is ready. So thank you Solar Yoga down here in our humble Prospect Town in Longmont, Colorado.
Feeling just amazing, I dash off for a few errands with a rice milk nuttynila latte. I score at Target with some deals getting a bit my Christmas shopping done, filling in random needs like new bike helmets for the kids and a sleeping bag for Jack. Everything I needed just seemed to be there and easy. The pharmacist even took an extra speedy care of me when the phone order was not processed. Then, it was home for a shower and nap. An amazing nap.
The best thing about my new iPad is there is and app called Noghtstand. It is an alarm clock. I have it set of church bells. To rise from a nap to slowly progressing bells is amazing. So I rise, sweep out of the house, do my treatment where the nurses where very effecient and almost sing song pixies from Pixie Hollow today. And then it ws off to Vitamin Cottage.
My parents had the kids for school pick up so I had time. What I found that I am doing is turning off my head language with the words, I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. See, I am struggling in my head with the mechanics of the radiation, steroid, and own personal zen. They are in constant battle. Jane Boyle Taylor, author of a Stroke of Insight, could explain this best. She is neuro-doctor who had a stroke closing down her left hemisphere of her brain at age 37. She experienced what it was to live with only an right side and recover. What a discover. So here I am getting every word she is saying. I can feel my parts changing in my head. I can tell what is my steroid effects on my decisions. And, I know where Sara is. So, as I am driving, I am getting anxious. This is the Decadrone. Sara voice says, I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. And the drug turns off. Pretty simple...right?
I pull into Vitamin Cottage and swift through aisles getting exactly what I need with ease when I bump into a neighbor. She was pondering her calcium purchase with an clerk. I smiled and told her, this is exactly the one I use and am here to pick some up right now. There was a really nice connection as she made her decision and we we chatted for a bit. I enjoyed our timely conversation as it is packed with tidbits for both of us to ponder. Thank you neighbor.
Then it was home to sort out the shopping bustle up the needs of the house and sit for a bit until the family arrived. I basked in the grace of my restorative day. 4:36 pm, my parents arrive with my little sprites and dinner. I am truly blessed for my parents. They tend to their grandchildren in nurturing ways that are full extensions of my own love. They a mentors, guides, and the loves of my life. We dine together and I enjoy the loving bonds they express towards my offspring. As I move into my hardest part of my mental rotation in my day, as the headaches start coming, and the tunnel of my head starts to close, I am able to move through with grace thanks to Mom and Dad's help. I love you.
A lone, the kids bathed, we have time for a game of Blockus in the living room. Both sprites doing exceptionally well, but Mom wins. Books, cuddle, lights out. Time for Mom to pass out too. What a day. A day I needed. A day to restore. A day full of restorative graces.
Feeling just amazing, I dash off for a few errands with a rice milk nuttynila latte. I score at Target with some deals getting a bit my Christmas shopping done, filling in random needs like new bike helmets for the kids and a sleeping bag for Jack. Everything I needed just seemed to be there and easy. The pharmacist even took an extra speedy care of me when the phone order was not processed. Then, it was home for a shower and nap. An amazing nap.
The best thing about my new iPad is there is and app called Noghtstand. It is an alarm clock. I have it set of church bells. To rise from a nap to slowly progressing bells is amazing. So I rise, sweep out of the house, do my treatment where the nurses where very effecient and almost sing song pixies from Pixie Hollow today. And then it ws off to Vitamin Cottage.
My parents had the kids for school pick up so I had time. What I found that I am doing is turning off my head language with the words, I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. See, I am struggling in my head with the mechanics of the radiation, steroid, and own personal zen. They are in constant battle. Jane Boyle Taylor, author of a Stroke of Insight, could explain this best. She is neuro-doctor who had a stroke closing down her left hemisphere of her brain at age 37. She experienced what it was to live with only an right side and recover. What a discover. So here I am getting every word she is saying. I can feel my parts changing in my head. I can tell what is my steroid effects on my decisions. And, I know where Sara is. So, as I am driving, I am getting anxious. This is the Decadrone. Sara voice says, I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. And the drug turns off. Pretty simple...right?
I pull into Vitamin Cottage and swift through aisles getting exactly what I need with ease when I bump into a neighbor. She was pondering her calcium purchase with an clerk. I smiled and told her, this is exactly the one I use and am here to pick some up right now. There was a really nice connection as she made her decision and we we chatted for a bit. I enjoyed our timely conversation as it is packed with tidbits for both of us to ponder. Thank you neighbor.
Then it was home to sort out the shopping bustle up the needs of the house and sit for a bit until the family arrived. I basked in the grace of my restorative day. 4:36 pm, my parents arrive with my little sprites and dinner. I am truly blessed for my parents. They tend to their grandchildren in nurturing ways that are full extensions of my own love. They a mentors, guides, and the loves of my life. We dine together and I enjoy the loving bonds they express towards my offspring. As I move into my hardest part of my mental rotation in my day, as the headaches start coming, and the tunnel of my head starts to close, I am able to move through with grace thanks to Mom and Dad's help. I love you.
A lone, the kids bathed, we have time for a game of Blockus in the living room. Both sprites doing exceptionally well, but Mom wins. Books, cuddle, lights out. Time for Mom to pass out too. What a day. A day I needed. A day to restore. A day full of restorative graces.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Hair, Chapter Four
I smile at myself in the mirror. Finally, after two years, my hair is naturally highlighted by the summer sun. The texture is thick, fine, and silky. I hardly have to brush the wedged bob that swings about my ears just over the my dangly earrings. It is even long enough I can stack it behind my ears to hold it out of my face when I am in down dog on my yoga mat. Finally, I earned my crown.
A couple of mornings ago, I shook my damp tresses over the sink as I finger dried them after my shower. The basin was peppered in five inch stands of silk hair. The time had come again. See, I had entered the cancer world once more two weeks prior. On this day, as my hair began to thin, I had completed ten full brain radiation treatments out of twenty. Half way. My Radiology Oncologist said she was pretty confident that my hair would simply weaken, fall out, and grow back in pretty quickly. Where as chemotherapy drugs actually kill the cell structures of the hair at the follicle causing the hair to have to regrow just like a new born baby. And, when I had chemo in 2009, and lost my hair, that is exactly what it did. It grew back fuzzy. Like a newborn and then became wiry, dark, and course. It took about two years to grow it to my normal texture and color. So with radiation, it is supposed to just get weak, thin out gradually, and quickly come back in as is. That is the hope anyway.
Regardless, all day after the peppering of my sink basin in hair, I was pulling bits of strands from the collar of my sweater and tossing them to the ground. I was afraid to touch my hair. Wide awake early the next morning lifting my head from a nest of hair on my pillow, I decided it was time for a cut. So trooped into the bathroom and got to work. I couldn't go to a salon because my scalp is too sensitive for the stuff they used there. I couldn't face telling a stylist what was going on, what I wanted, nor how gentle they needed to be. Besides, I didn't want to pay even $35 for a style that may actually only last a week more. So I got to work. I cut my sons hair and have a buzzer, The Peanut by Wahle. I put on the four guard and buzzed away on the back just do like I do on his head once a month I actually would have liked to keep a bit longer at the crown but had to bring it up as I could't hand cut that area by myself. It is okay, not great. Then I thought about the rock star Pink! And, this other movie star I can't remember the name of it these fun spikes and long front swoop duns. I used my scissors. I also cut my daughter's bob once a month and have the proper scissors and combs for that use. I graduated the lengths from the buzzed area at the crown which was very difficult. Then, hanging my head deep, I pulled the strands out in sections sliding the scissors along the length two create long layers.
By this time, my daughter has awoken and totters in to my room. She begins to cry at the wade on hair piled on the towels on the floor. Teachable moment of tender mothering proceeds as I confirm her doubts, fears, and empathy for the situation at hand. I know for her that my loosing my hair again brings back bad memories from when she was just my little four year old princess wishing she had a mommy with Repuntzle's golden tresses. I tell her that for now, I might get to keep some hair. It is just that it is thinning and easier to loose shorter lengths then long strands. I confirm that it may all fall out, but for now, it just needs cleaning up. "Besides, don't you think I am looking pretty rock star?" "Yes," she replies. As I continue my cutting. She babbles on how dad needs to go get a mohawk, her brother can spike his and she is going to be the singer who always has these really long, blonde, big hair dubs... have a rock band. Proud mommy moment proceeds. Way to girl girl, making your limes into cherry limeade and sipping slowly.
So it is done. Not perfect, but, not half bad. I shower, use a roller brush to lightly curve it forward and lift. Spray it hairspray and am all set to continue the morning of oatmeal, book bags, managing dressing two kiddos and marching the half mile walk to our little neighborhood elementary school. On time and smiles...well mostly.
In light of Thanksgiving in a few weeks, the school hosted a family luncheon of both the kindergarten and second grade classes. So I attended both lunches with my son and then my daughter. Taking off my hat, I had a lot of surprised smiles from the other parents of whom I know many being the Room Mom in both classes. Some know that I am going through brain radiation and some have no clue. The staff, of course, know I may be bald in the end as I prepared them so they can properly support the children as they deal with peers if that would happen. So I received responses varying from: "You go girl. Way to take control and ease into this." All the way to: "Wow, I wish I had the confidence for a big change like that. Looks great!" I simply smiled confidently and replied that I am going rock star and funk for a change, why not.
So there you are, that is what it takes to be a survivor. A little rock star confidence. A great smile is essential. And, yah, heck, it really helps to understand hair and it's cultural language it speaks. Hair is your book cover. There isn't anyway around that in this Human existence with each other. So go with it, love it. And if it is not quite right, it can be changed. Because the coolest thing about hair is that it WILL grow back.
A couple of mornings ago, I shook my damp tresses over the sink as I finger dried them after my shower. The basin was peppered in five inch stands of silk hair. The time had come again. See, I had entered the cancer world once more two weeks prior. On this day, as my hair began to thin, I had completed ten full brain radiation treatments out of twenty. Half way. My Radiology Oncologist said she was pretty confident that my hair would simply weaken, fall out, and grow back in pretty quickly. Where as chemotherapy drugs actually kill the cell structures of the hair at the follicle causing the hair to have to regrow just like a new born baby. And, when I had chemo in 2009, and lost my hair, that is exactly what it did. It grew back fuzzy. Like a newborn and then became wiry, dark, and course. It took about two years to grow it to my normal texture and color. So with radiation, it is supposed to just get weak, thin out gradually, and quickly come back in as is. That is the hope anyway.
Regardless, all day after the peppering of my sink basin in hair, I was pulling bits of strands from the collar of my sweater and tossing them to the ground. I was afraid to touch my hair. Wide awake early the next morning lifting my head from a nest of hair on my pillow, I decided it was time for a cut. So trooped into the bathroom and got to work. I couldn't go to a salon because my scalp is too sensitive for the stuff they used there. I couldn't face telling a stylist what was going on, what I wanted, nor how gentle they needed to be. Besides, I didn't want to pay even $35 for a style that may actually only last a week more. So I got to work. I cut my sons hair and have a buzzer, The Peanut by Wahle. I put on the four guard and buzzed away on the back just do like I do on his head once a month I actually would have liked to keep a bit longer at the crown but had to bring it up as I could't hand cut that area by myself. It is okay, not great. Then I thought about the rock star Pink! And, this other movie star I can't remember the name of it these fun spikes and long front swoop duns. I used my scissors. I also cut my daughter's bob once a month and have the proper scissors and combs for that use. I graduated the lengths from the buzzed area at the crown which was very difficult. Then, hanging my head deep, I pulled the strands out in sections sliding the scissors along the length two create long layers.
By this time, my daughter has awoken and totters in to my room. She begins to cry at the wade on hair piled on the towels on the floor. Teachable moment of tender mothering proceeds as I confirm her doubts, fears, and empathy for the situation at hand. I know for her that my loosing my hair again brings back bad memories from when she was just my little four year old princess wishing she had a mommy with Repuntzle's golden tresses. I tell her that for now, I might get to keep some hair. It is just that it is thinning and easier to loose shorter lengths then long strands. I confirm that it may all fall out, but for now, it just needs cleaning up. "Besides, don't you think I am looking pretty rock star?" "Yes," she replies. As I continue my cutting. She babbles on how dad needs to go get a mohawk, her brother can spike his and she is going to be the singer who always has these really long, blonde, big hair dubs... have a rock band. Proud mommy moment proceeds. Way to girl girl, making your limes into cherry limeade and sipping slowly.
So it is done. Not perfect, but, not half bad. I shower, use a roller brush to lightly curve it forward and lift. Spray it hairspray and am all set to continue the morning of oatmeal, book bags, managing dressing two kiddos and marching the half mile walk to our little neighborhood elementary school. On time and smiles...well mostly.
In light of Thanksgiving in a few weeks, the school hosted a family luncheon of both the kindergarten and second grade classes. So I attended both lunches with my son and then my daughter. Taking off my hat, I had a lot of surprised smiles from the other parents of whom I know many being the Room Mom in both classes. Some know that I am going through brain radiation and some have no clue. The staff, of course, know I may be bald in the end as I prepared them so they can properly support the children as they deal with peers if that would happen. So I received responses varying from: "You go girl. Way to take control and ease into this." All the way to: "Wow, I wish I had the confidence for a big change like that. Looks great!" I simply smiled confidently and replied that I am going rock star and funk for a change, why not.
So there you are, that is what it takes to be a survivor. A little rock star confidence. A great smile is essential. And, yah, heck, it really helps to understand hair and it's cultural language it speaks. Hair is your book cover. There isn't anyway around that in this Human existence with each other. So go with it, love it. And if it is not quite right, it can be changed. Because the coolest thing about hair is that it WILL grow back.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Resistance is Futile
"Resistance is Futile!" My Storm Troopers in my crazy cancer game keep popping up screaming. "Resistance is Futile!" When I am on a run, I find myself crying uncontrollably. My mind is so determined to cling to the body I have worked to create all the while these StormTroopers keep trying to take over my planet. Now, I can make those Troopers look more like Lego men with heads I can pop off and little plastic laser guns that I can vacuum up in my Dyson. Yet, they are still there turning my dreams in fantasies. My dreams of working on crafts with my future granddaughter have begun to filter through my fingers into my pail of lost fantasies mingling with the one of my hot twenty-two year old self in a bikini being fondled by six foot two life guard. Yes, folks, I am still human here and would love to telliport to the world of dancing and boyfriends that open the car door and make me laugh uncontrollably over an Italian dinner while goose pimples flare at the nape of my neck when he touches my arm.
Much on my mental fight is sparked with pure determination to not retire before I am ready even when my body has made the request. Oh, no, I will not, I move in and out through Halloween with my kids, for my kids. I volunteer at school as Room Mom and have a blast teaching the Kindergarten to make paper bag puppet monsters...yes, moms, that was what those were supposed to be. I marched on through having a family over for a quick bite together and then sending everyone out the door to meet up with more neighbors for trick or treating. I had performed several costume changes through out the day, procured dairy free candies for Cowboy, brushed Rapunzel's long wig a dozen times, and made sure both kids were happy and enjoying themselves. Yet, as I walked around the first corner of the block with my friends and our kids, I realized that I just could not do it. I wanted to lie down, my head hurt, I was thirsty. So I let the neighbors run off with my kids who were already three houses beyond the parents with the smaller kids, and turned back home. My StormTroopers mocked me as they jabbed their plastic guns in my ribs. I cried. This isn't what I want to be doing. I don't want to be going home. I want to be hanging out with my friends, laughing at the kids antics, and being there if my youngest is a little scared of the green house on the corner that has a fog machine.
I am sure my look of defeat is printed on my face at times. I walked into a massage the following morning with a new practitioner. It is a free service for radiation patients...awesome perks. I turned the corner and saw her face melt with pity as if she had seen her young daughter-in-law walk in through the doors. She asked all the typical questions knowing I had breast cancer, it is in my chart, and made assumptions that I was probably saving my perky 34 Bs from surgery with chest radiation. So she asks about the mechanics like if I can lay on my chest and how many treatments I have had so as to not apply lotions to those areas. I tell her, that I am all good to go as my surgery was over two years ago and the treatments are on my head so she can do whatever she feels I need on my body. She is kind, but obviously very uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable. What do I say when people look at me like I am going to die? I have metastatic breast cancer to my brain and I am going to to die before I am ready. Those Storm Troopers keep reminding me of that. But, not today. I am yielding a power that is far beyond the Dark Side that is tuning this body into the finest machine I can muster.
This really isn't an easy place. And, I am sure it is even harder for those around me to watch. God, I hope I keep my hair only because it makes it easier to look at me. It makes it easier to ignore the fact my vocabulary is muddled and your name totally escapes me. It makes it less scary. I am a fighter. I am a good fighter. I am fighting. So I yell, get mad, get frustrated, get sad, and scream. Sometimes, you are in the way, and I am so sorry. I am not screaming at you. I am screaming at my Storm Troopers. I have a lot of Jedi Mind Powers that will blow you away. And, I am determined to resist to keep this body moving on this Earth.
Being that I am who I am and much rather see beyond my messed up head, I want to take a moment to inspire you to choose you. No, there weren't any risk factors in my life to warrant my current predicament I had taken care of it...perfectly healthy with a little asthma and colitis I had controlled for nearly a decade with good eating. No, my body was just made this way with over excited growth genes in my breasts. My body is just like your body with its faults maybe it is Lupus, diabetes, MS, and so many physical challenges everyone around us is walking in out of their days with. Maybe you don't have it yet. So take care of your body today. Tune it. Feed it. Stop giving it bad stuff. And rub lotion all over your beautiful skin every day. Make this your mission this month. Take off your weight...get serious. If imagining you are your sexy 22 year old bombshell self in a bikini that motivates you, go for it. But, for most of us, the focus is just to be able to make your body move as is God's gift. Just make your body into the finest tool you can so you can fight whatever you need to fight when you are asked to come to the ring. You want top billing because you know you will have Storm Troopers coming because you are getting older. Take it on.
Take care of your brain and find honor in your life as it is in those moments in between that count especially when you have mental challenges of addiction, depression, bipolar, or Aspbergers. Find blessing in your life when your Storm Troopers are clouding your thoughts. Our life without you would not be whole. Oh heck, if you are a mom, go be a lone for a bit. I have such a renewed respect for all that we have done all these years to do everything and be everyone to our babies. As I have had to step out of my mommy-head because it is just too much for me to keep straight, I look longingly at the amazing feats I accomplished daily to keep smiles on those little ones faces, house clean, tummies full, and homework done on time. Find your balance and self again. The world won't end if you don't cover every boo boo with a Band-aid or forget to bring the sanitizer to the jumping castle. Think of the adult sized reward your son will have when he realizes he can wash his own soccer uniform when you were too tired after work to get it done at midnight. His future wife will thank you. It hurts now when they yell at you for not being all of everything for everyone, but they will be okay. Disappointment hurts. Disappointment inspires too.
So whatever it is you need to do, start it. Tune your body. Form new habits. Take a class. Take silence. Create. Let go of being everything to everyone and choose you. What can you do to make yourself ready to yield your Jedi Light Saber to your Storm Troopers when your number is called? Do that.
Much on my mental fight is sparked with pure determination to not retire before I am ready even when my body has made the request. Oh, no, I will not, I move in and out through Halloween with my kids, for my kids. I volunteer at school as Room Mom and have a blast teaching the Kindergarten to make paper bag puppet monsters...yes, moms, that was what those were supposed to be. I marched on through having a family over for a quick bite together and then sending everyone out the door to meet up with more neighbors for trick or treating. I had performed several costume changes through out the day, procured dairy free candies for Cowboy, brushed Rapunzel's long wig a dozen times, and made sure both kids were happy and enjoying themselves. Yet, as I walked around the first corner of the block with my friends and our kids, I realized that I just could not do it. I wanted to lie down, my head hurt, I was thirsty. So I let the neighbors run off with my kids who were already three houses beyond the parents with the smaller kids, and turned back home. My StormTroopers mocked me as they jabbed their plastic guns in my ribs. I cried. This isn't what I want to be doing. I don't want to be going home. I want to be hanging out with my friends, laughing at the kids antics, and being there if my youngest is a little scared of the green house on the corner that has a fog machine.
I am sure my look of defeat is printed on my face at times. I walked into a massage the following morning with a new practitioner. It is a free service for radiation patients...awesome perks. I turned the corner and saw her face melt with pity as if she had seen her young daughter-in-law walk in through the doors. She asked all the typical questions knowing I had breast cancer, it is in my chart, and made assumptions that I was probably saving my perky 34 Bs from surgery with chest radiation. So she asks about the mechanics like if I can lay on my chest and how many treatments I have had so as to not apply lotions to those areas. I tell her, that I am all good to go as my surgery was over two years ago and the treatments are on my head so she can do whatever she feels I need on my body. She is kind, but obviously very uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable. What do I say when people look at me like I am going to die? I have metastatic breast cancer to my brain and I am going to to die before I am ready. Those Storm Troopers keep reminding me of that. But, not today. I am yielding a power that is far beyond the Dark Side that is tuning this body into the finest machine I can muster.
This really isn't an easy place. And, I am sure it is even harder for those around me to watch. God, I hope I keep my hair only because it makes it easier to look at me. It makes it easier to ignore the fact my vocabulary is muddled and your name totally escapes me. It makes it less scary. I am a fighter. I am a good fighter. I am fighting. So I yell, get mad, get frustrated, get sad, and scream. Sometimes, you are in the way, and I am so sorry. I am not screaming at you. I am screaming at my Storm Troopers. I have a lot of Jedi Mind Powers that will blow you away. And, I am determined to resist to keep this body moving on this Earth.
Being that I am who I am and much rather see beyond my messed up head, I want to take a moment to inspire you to choose you. No, there weren't any risk factors in my life to warrant my current predicament I had taken care of it...perfectly healthy with a little asthma and colitis I had controlled for nearly a decade with good eating. No, my body was just made this way with over excited growth genes in my breasts. My body is just like your body with its faults maybe it is Lupus, diabetes, MS, and so many physical challenges everyone around us is walking in out of their days with. Maybe you don't have it yet. So take care of your body today. Tune it. Feed it. Stop giving it bad stuff. And rub lotion all over your beautiful skin every day. Make this your mission this month. Take off your weight...get serious. If imagining you are your sexy 22 year old bombshell self in a bikini that motivates you, go for it. But, for most of us, the focus is just to be able to make your body move as is God's gift. Just make your body into the finest tool you can so you can fight whatever you need to fight when you are asked to come to the ring. You want top billing because you know you will have Storm Troopers coming because you are getting older. Take it on.
Take care of your brain and find honor in your life as it is in those moments in between that count especially when you have mental challenges of addiction, depression, bipolar, or Aspbergers. Find blessing in your life when your Storm Troopers are clouding your thoughts. Our life without you would not be whole. Oh heck, if you are a mom, go be a lone for a bit. I have such a renewed respect for all that we have done all these years to do everything and be everyone to our babies. As I have had to step out of my mommy-head because it is just too much for me to keep straight, I look longingly at the amazing feats I accomplished daily to keep smiles on those little ones faces, house clean, tummies full, and homework done on time. Find your balance and self again. The world won't end if you don't cover every boo boo with a Band-aid or forget to bring the sanitizer to the jumping castle. Think of the adult sized reward your son will have when he realizes he can wash his own soccer uniform when you were too tired after work to get it done at midnight. His future wife will thank you. It hurts now when they yell at you for not being all of everything for everyone, but they will be okay. Disappointment hurts. Disappointment inspires too.
So whatever it is you need to do, start it. Tune your body. Form new habits. Take a class. Take silence. Create. Let go of being everything to everyone and choose you. What can you do to make yourself ready to yield your Jedi Light Saber to your Storm Troopers when your number is called? Do that.
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