Stress Management: Take One

When we are completely stressed and overwhelmed, we need an outlet.  For me that outlet would typically be writing.

Here's the thing....  My life pattern has a lot of consistent elements which means there is little to say. The last four months feel like the equivalent of years.  NY feels like 633 years ago. When did I last look upon your face? When did I last hold you? When did I last toast a new journey? Why is my life in the slowest motion of all time?  

There are some good things, I have recently mentioned them, but otherwise my life sometimes feels like groundhog day and I don't have a lot to talk about. I rarely leave the house.  I haven't done anything cool.  I do the same things every day.  And this racks up some stress over here. Lavender soap, lavender candles, lavender cream....lay it on me. I will use it all. 

I have to really force myself (and I'm rather unsuccessful) to not reach backward.  Don't chase people. Don't text.  Just let it be.  It's so hard for me. I have to verbally tell myself....stay here.  Focus here.  Continue to live this day.  At some point, something will change in this new place.  You already know it takes years to build old friends. It takes years to build "home." Nothing has changed with that, but do give yourself the point that pandemic feelings/situations are a brand new factor in this equation. 

Middle age is about structure and process, I think we covered that in an earlier session.  Thereby, my process to combat stress and sameness and claustrophobia is to write what I am feeling, pray for purpose - Jesus, give me a wheel to take (and let me drink coffee),  keep walking, and start to plan one weekly activity for myself that is outside the home. (Drive ten miles west, avoiding cow pies take selfie with steer, come home - you know, something like that)

Step One:

Today, I am really stressed and the feeling I want to verbalize is: trapped.  I feel trapped in my work. I feel unable to correct the situation because I am deeply entrenched, not entirely respected, and my stress is intensified by feeling unable to convey the emotion I feel from myself to a third party that is not invested in the same work.  (Readers - you are now my third party. You are my  peeps and you are listening to me unravel my tale of woe. Thank you.) 

Step Two:

Jesus, thank you for listening to me everyday.  Thank you for always being a party, although you are not third because you are deeply invested in all that I do. Please show me what I can do for you.  Send me someone who needs love, send me a note that says "serve here," send me a neighbor that needs some cookies.  I need some purpose, please give it. Amen.

Step Three:

I did not walk as much as I should have today. 

Step Four:

My outing this weekend will be to visit and take a photo of Georgetown Square. (Maybe I will go there by motorcycle.) 

I feel better already. 

Friends. You might see more of this type of expression as I work through my pandemic move experience.  It's taxing some days, but I have a step by step plan to deal with my stress rather than let it consume me. Cheers, middle age, kicking butt and taking names.  

Feel free to send any scavenger hunt ideas for my weekly activity.  I'll find every steer in Texas. Just for you. 

A Bridge

Today is the last day in January and for the first time in my life, well, probably not the very first, I walked outside in a t-shirt and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the cooling of the breeze.  Neighbors were pruning bushes, walking dogs, and rising bikes.  My "neighbor" about 15 houses up the street was in his garage with he doors open, watching television, so all was right. I count it odd when I don't see him and/or the television playing.  Enjoying such a day lifted my spirit. 

Reminiscing has been the mindset of the last few days.  Messners the country over have been celebrating and remembering with each other, the life of one man.  He called me "Angelina" and I allowed it.  To me, he represents affability, calm and thoughtful candor, humor laced wisdom, intelligence with humility, and a deep agape love.  Two summers ago this man, in his mid eighties texted me and asked me to come see him at a family reunion that was being planned. Without hesitation I made the 16 hour round-trip over the course of one day off work to attend.  I saw him this past August and as we said "goodbye," this is the last thing he said to me, "You always come.  No matter where you go, you always come back. I really like that."   You are dearly beloved, Uncle Neal, and I would always come if within my power to do so.  As another dear family member said to me, "it's about affection, not obligation."  What a gift to love and be loved. It paints a life with color, with purpose, with joy. 

Nothing says "life celebration" like the pulling out of old photos.  I went through some old photos and walked down some old trails this weekend.  My life has had some odd twists.  While I explore this, please note if you hold a place in my family, this path is from my personal perspective and is not meant to color your perception or dishonor those whom it involves....  

My parents grew up together. Their parents were good friends and spent a lot of time with each other as I understand it.  It is from this co-heritage that I come.  This means that there is a lot of history over a lot of years.  I kind of love it. The nineties were difficult because of it, but I appreciate it nonetheless.  I think when my parents divorced, it was difficult for my grandparents. Relationally, things are always challenging and then this happens and I am certain it is easy to gravitate and shelter your own child.  You take sides. You feel almost honor bound and vengeful to do so. I get it. I'm a parent and blood is thicker than water as they say, right?

I think before my grandmother died, my other grandma visited her and maybe some things were worked out. I can't and won't speak more to what I don't know.  This is the point that I find with joy on this trail.  This co-heritage is a heritage of faith.  This means that we all have the same past, and we are all going to the same heaven.  Both sides of my family know all about the other sides. When someone dies, I know I'll see both sides there. For all of my life there will be continued crossover and, no pun intended, for better or worse, I can think of nothing better.  I do not diminish the difficulty, because it's not perfect, nor will it ever be. It's awkward, sometimes, still to this day.  Where should I go? Where should I sit? Do I look like I am being preferential? I am the queen of small talk, do I need to employ that to fill the conversation gap?  But, part of this agape love that we need to have means we belong to Christ, we need to act like Christ.  I've seen some clear demonstrations in my family and it makes me so proud and happy for this heritage, joint heirs with Jesus and joined as family on this earth. 

Nothing says eighties birthday like boxed cake and sliced neopolitan ice cream.  Nothing says family like picnics with pop - Dad's Root Beer to be exact-  (you guys know I say "soda" now, right?) and fried chicken. While I went through photos, I smiled and cringed.  I remembered what it felt like as a child to be part of this family.  I remembered what it felt like to be torn in the middle of this family.  I remembered what it felt like to know I would always be a part of two worlds and welcomed nonetheless.  Part of that emotional unification came from the man we celebrate and honor this week.  He became a bridge that crossed a divide. 

Uncle Neal, it is clear that you are dear to many. More eloquent words than I can speak will be spoken of you in the coming days.  It is still true that if you asked for me today I would be on a plane tomorrow.  It is true that I would have welcomed you to Texas though you did not wish to come. It is true that I would have met you in the alternative location of San Diego.  It is true that I have adored you my whole life.  It is true that your presence will be deeply missed.  

It is true that we will meet again.

Until then.....  

How is life?

Life begins at forty.

It's a quote I've heard.  

I think what is meant...is that you're getting into the rhythm of your life when you are in your forties. You understand money better (sometimes.) Maybe you are able to do a 401k, maybe you are farther down the path of your job or career. Maybe you understand relationships better, friend or lover or familial. I think the statement is true, at least in some regard, for all.  You have at least learned a thing or two in the last twenty years that will aid you in the future.  You at least know what to avoid, if not what to embrace, thereby, you are getting into the rhythm. 

I am encountering another click around the sun this week. 

Today, my new ENT prescribed me a round of steroids because my uvula is in worse shape than an aged man (read: entirely too large - can you even swallow? Also read: your husband must love you if he can handle the snoring that led you to this point. He really does.) and my poor deviated septum (which of my brother's broke my nose as a child?) and enlarged turbinates give me a slim chance of breathing. 

I am a week into giving up my favorite beverages. Coffee and Diet Coke (everything carbonated). RIP to my best pals.  You brought me joy when I ate a slice of za and when I greeted the day or closed the day or just needed a friend.  In my hands you were the present to help me with the present.  It hasn't been too bad, actually, but it is a conscious decision to choose something else.  Mostly, it was habit and not need, mostly it was a desire.  This is not necessarily a permanent choice and this is not a declaration of: this is my resolution for a new me because it's January.  This is: I'm aged (rather, in my rhythm) and heartburn is literally killing me and so I'm giving this a go to see if the change helps and if I want to continue pursuit. 

I am on day 18 of a 60 day plan to read scripture every day.  Can I tell you how many days I failed already? Can I tell you? At least 8. I "catch up" but it's still an "L" in my rhythm.  Schedule your priorities, that's the ticket, and here I sit, not scheduling it.  Why is it so hard to read scripture? Why is it so hard to want to hear Jesus talking to me? Because everything else is so loud. Because I allow it.  I put my kids wanting, finally, to speak to me above that time. I put extra sleep above it. I put mealtimes above it because darn it, it's hard to think of an alternate beverage. 

I am on a plan to walk 2-3 miles per day around the neighborhood(s).  Texas is going to be my jam because I LOVE this. I love this so much. Walking and looking and seeing and smelling (darn it, someone is grilling EVERY day and why does it smell SO good down here?! They are killing me) and enjoying being outside daily in a way I never have before.   Guess what, I'm getting smarter, audio sermons and scripture.  Loving so, so much this time for a small bit of health but to enjoy God, the scenery/landscapes and any family member that chooses to join.  In Winter! I've acclimated already... so quick....so lame. 

A rhythm....

Life is full of them. 

Life begins at forty. Or changes begin at forty. 

For me the rhythm has been to look ahead to foresee all that might lay in wait. Planning always for "when work slows down," or "when my child wants to engage," or "when I have this dream kitchen," or "when I find the kindred spirit whom my heart will love." 

I have wasted time in the fruitless pursuit of the "when" that never comes.  

Life begins when you're forty.

In this rhythm I am setting, I am swinging for the fences.  (Baseball peeps, you know what that means?)  

Live. With everything. 

No holds barred. Knock on the child's door. Pick up that Bible again. Walk out your front door. See the doctor regularly and, yes, do the allergy testing AGAIN and take the therapy or have surgery on your nose, do it.  Your husband, your uvula, your kids, your soul, your body and mind will feel abundant. 

This is the life, the rhythm, to which you have been called.  Abundant life while in this temporary place (read: Texas or Earth.). I'm really excited about this phase. 

I feel tired because I haven't slept well in ages and yet not so, because these steroids are the bomb diggity.  But here I must close....

We only have so many clicks around the sun. I am so conscious of this every January.  I have repeatedly failed to be consistent in many areas of my life. 

Abundant life is mine for the taking.  I choose and sacrifice and make the moments in preparation for what God has in store. 

This rhythm, my life...grateful for every year I am given. One day, all these things mentioned will amount to a hill of beans save this....my soul. 

It lives forever and will be one day in the presence of Jesus.  Angela. For the love. Do this part well. This next click, please, do it well. 

One Small Candle

For me there is something so sacred about the space we create to express ourselves.   Each person has something that they employ for the expression, and when they are doing this one thing, they are fully themselves.

Writing is as personal an expression as any, and when a writer invites you into their space, such as through a book, forum, or blog, if you are patient, you will see a piece of their soul emerge.  I consider this a sacred space, but I do not fear the invitation of others into it; although, at times, I think some have withdrawn based on the content.  

This content today spills from my very heart onto this page.  

Humility is so lacking in the world around us, and this lack of humility is what will be the demise of men.  Man desires to be right above all else.  He will tout his opinion, he will declare his thoughts, and if he says it loudly enough, by golly, he will curry favor among his peers and be lauded above those who do not share his opinion.  He wants to be on top. He wants everyone to know that he is right.  Thus, social media takes the world into its hands and wraps it in a cloak of darkness.

The world has become loud and so to win it, we almost have to be quiet. Almost.

Like when a speaker will whisper and "FOMO" kicks in and the rustles quiet so that what is being said can be heard.

I know that the hope the world needs is Jesus.  It is less self and more, much more, of Jesus.

I hold my little candle within the cloak of darkness.  I feel squished.  I feel squashed.  I feel that I want to be as loud as everyone else who does not follow their own advice they so freely give.  I bite my tongue so many times, I am certain I taste my own blood, for want of sharing my opinions.  

The cacophony of self will continue and only get worse in the days and years to come, we cannot and should not expect it to be otherwise.  It is with prayerful purpose that I hold my tongue and choose to raise the banner of Jesus.   

I hold my little candle in a darkening world and pray the love I feel for you radiates. May it pour past opinions, feelings, darkness, and self.  I pray that in me, you will see a glimpse of the Savior who loves you even more than me.  

I am a daughter of the King and I walk this earth with the certain hope of the finished story.  

Middle Perspective

I am comfortably in the middle. I don't know why middle children complain because the middle is quite nice actually. Expectations are low. Production is high. Anything is possible in the middle. 

I am most comfortably in middle age at this point. While I do mourn the passing of time and that my Big Littles are going to be out of the house in the next few years, I find my own self quite grounded. 

Friends, the twenties are the worst years of your life.  It's a fact and if, for some reason, that was the opposite for you then consider the rest of your life on the downward slope. For the rest of us, life is increasingly better the older you get. You grow so much in the twenties and thirties so by the forties you are enjoying the knowledge of who you are and what you want to pursue in this life. Many times that leads to the "midlife" crisis where you realize that job you are doing because your 'rents paid your college tuition isn't at all what you want to do with your life and you change careers.  I never really had a career so I am not plagued by job doubt or regret; I do already know I am passionate about writing. 

Aside from the aging of the body, and the subsequent changes that occur, I have never felt more beautiful and confident in my own skin. I picture myself daily in reading glasses with a smile and a mug in my hands and it fits.  I am firmly moving into more of a matron status and it is the best thing since sliced bread.  Matrons. We're smart. We're confident.  We're capable. We're in the middle. We know what we want. We aren't afraid to pursue it.  The twenties and thirties drift away and we are left with life and the understanding that has been elusive. Aging is better. When you can put the insecurities of your earlier years behind you, it frees you to be effective.  And I think that's what middle people are, effective. 

Tell all your friends...celebrate all the birthdays. 

Jumbled Thoughts

Gentle readers.... 

I am always waiting for the perfect time to write my thoughts, and, frankly, there really isn't a perfect time. It's like waiting to have babies or waiting for the job you 100% want.  There is no good time for any of that, you just take the plunge.

 I only wrote one time in December which is maybe the least amount of writing I have done in quite some time.  There might be some lack of content, but mostly it is a feeling of limbo.  Neither here nor there, neither quite settled or unsettled.  It is hardest to express my thoughts and so I wait with expectation for some revelation to strike which will crack open the vault.

No revelation. No brilliant clarity.

But a pile of jumbled thoughts I have so in no particular order....

I'm not so sure about the job I'm doing. It stresses me out every day and it doesn't feel worth it.  I don't know what to do about it. 

I have been walking each day for some exercise and I so enjoy our new neighborhood - the Christmas decorations are unrivaled for any place I've lived.

It poured rain today and several storms with lightening and thunder came through. I loved every minute. You can't ever be lazy here because it is temperate and sunny every day; you feel guilty. It's probably going to be like this in heaven. 

My son has made his way back to me and now he is almost a man. Your kids leave you for a few years, locked in teenage separation, and then they come back and you realize it's almost time for them to leave the nest. He grew up while he was lost and is he ready and have I been successful? Three years is a vapor.... It feels a little like permanent loss. 

There are no friends in limbo, that continues to be a struggle for me. You can't rush it, there is no rushing it. The kindred spirits take their time, but eventually they come.  

I finally changed my google map setting for home this week. I'm tired of typing in the entire address when I want to find my way.  It felt like betrayal. All my starred places are now thousands of miles away. 

Someone that I love is dying. Right now. These are the final days. He will be letting go of this world and taking hold of the next.  This person taught me about chickadees and held my hand on many hikes. This person carried me on his shoulders more than once and always around the last bend of Monroe Falls. I love to hear him say my name. One day I will hear it again.  

I'm hardwired for my people. In all my thoughts...this is what lingers...  

Love. My people. Full and grateful heart. 

Never Alone

 Hello dear ones...

It is the first weekend in December. I'm sitting in bed, not feeling very well, and thinking about every last minute of this year and wondering how I made it to December 4th. 

I think only the love of good people and the grace of a good, good Father. 

I've written about the struggles of this year, both physically, starting off year 40 with surgery and medication to make one crazy;  emptying my life blood on the roof of 6 Temple Hills (someone please drive by and admire it); and then, emotionally, as I closed my life, watched my beloveds close theirs, and then all of us, painstakingly, beginning anew.  January and November were SO hard.  

This old lady has been on one heck of a journey. No more babies. No more leaking roof. No more peeling floor tiles.  No more pharmacy life. No more Scrabble games. No more mexicano date nights. No more colorful trees. No more pine needles. No more Grace friends. No flour. No diet coke. No mask free days. No church. No touching. No breathing. No coughing, sniffling, nor sneezing. 

You know what? Somehow I'm ending year 40 and 2020 with people who love me and Jesus as close as a whisper.   Somehow my dearest people have not abandoned me. They saw me cry a lot this year. They saw me during some (many) of my most anxiety filled days.  They know, like I know, it is with difficulty that we deal with the shifting of our core foundation, and it takes time. Our countenance does not improve overnight.  Our problems do not dissipate with the rising of the sun.  Little by little, though, we make it. And today, I see that I have come quite far down this road. 

In retrospect, I can see as always, God's hands in my life.  Never once did I walk alone. When I tried to hide and cry, God always caught my tears. And more often than not, my husband was not oblivious. (He's too good, that one.)  God bids us come and find rest. For the pandemic weary soul. For the one who is tired of being alone. For the one who is ready to be forgiven and free of guilt. Rest, and a companion for the journey. One who never tires of your desperate cries. "Is that you again, Angela? Come on over here and sit a spell. Breathe. Breathe. C'mon, I gave you the breath of life for a reason. Quit wasting it. Breathe. Yes, that's good, that's good. You can let go of your old life. You can do it. You can learn to like palm trees. You can learn to like SAP, it's not CFRx, but you can do it. You can choose in this life. I made you in My image and I gave you choice, and, specifically, I put a little bit of feisty sass in there. Year 41 is ahead, look ahead, for I am ahead. I'll be with you there. You're going to continue to miss the turn on Louis Henna Blvd, it's just your thing, but keep driving anyway."

Just like that, friends, just like that, I can breathe easier. The Author of my faith is all around.  He is in my past so clearly.  He is beside me and, most importantly, He is in front of me. The world is becoming very convoluted and uncertain, but I'm going toward a city not made with hands and you know what waits for me? A Savior. 

Peace is spoken into the night. All is well. 

Now that I'm quiet, now that I'm still....

The journey has been so difficult. I feel all the emotion my memory eyes can see. Here I am, though, with people who still love me and Jesus just a whisper away. 

It's been good, friends, it's been good. We develop so much in the valley years. Those people who remain only become more dear. Those lessons only add to wisdom. 

In this night, I'm choosing to say goodbye. 

I'll sip hazelnut flavored coffee. I'll tell Jesus I can what you have done here, you have answered my prayers. 

I'm not adventurous but I am learning perseverance. My will is synchronizing for the long term.  

Goodbye to the elementary years of my children. Goodbye to the place I reared them, the kitchen where I plastered their artwork.  Goodbye to the season that gave me the gift of perseverance. Goodbye to young motherhood. Goodbye to youthful perspective.

I am choosing the next step. I am ready to see these kids as drivers and workers. I am ready to make the turn on Louis Henna Blvd. I am ready for the next bend in my road. 

Thank you, Grief, for being with me all through this year. Thank you for helping me to feel. Thank you for helping me to say goodbye so that Joy arrives.  You are ever a faithful companion, but one day, when I get to the city not made with hands, you and I will part ways forever. 

I will look toward my Savior and all I will need is joy. 

Dear ones, thank you for remaining with me. For reading, for praying, for encouraging me this year. From the beginning when some dear souls snuck into NY in a snowstorm, before COVID, because of love; to the end, now with my little family in Texas, alone, and moving forward. Thank you for your friendship and love. May you also find Jesus meets you just where you need Him.  Merry Christmas!