Month: December 2013

Ghosts of Talent Past

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I saw a vision of myself dancing last night. Granted, a self five or six years younger  with twice the grace and talent. So…a vision of me as I would have wished to be, I guess.

Several years ago, I was at the height of my bellydance fervor – at least five hours of classes/troupe practice per week, daily practice, frequent performances, including at large conventions. And I loved it. I was good at it. I looked good doing it. I loved it. Then life set in, my goals and hobbies changed, and that was not quite so important anymore. Now, after having had a baby and been majorly out of the scene for over a year, I just went to my first hafla as a performer. It was…disappointing. I was nervous about dancing. I tried my best but didn’t do as well as I’d hoped, didn’t feel as sassy, beautiful, or graceful as I used to. As I drove home in silence, I just felt sort of…ill. It was no one’s fault. Everyone was great; from Zhenna, who taught my class so wonderfully, to all the other dancers that I reconnected with, albeit briefly. No, it was no one’s fault.

It was me. I felt disappointed. I felt less. Dancing didn’t make me happy like it used to. I didn’t feel lovely, like I used to. I felt like I had let myself down somehow. Perhaps, as far as dancing, it’s time for me to step away from performance entirely and just concentrate on the fitness aspect of the dance.

Thanks in the Season of Giving

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Christmas is often known as the season for giving but I am also endeavoring to be thankful. As we near upon Christmas Day, I am coming upon another very important date within the next week: my daughter’s birthday. On the 19th, my daughter will be one year old. This time last year, I was preparing to be induced, preeclampsic, on bed rest, and growing very nervous. I had never been hospitalized before, not since my own premature birth, so this was completely unknown territory for me. By the end of the day, after laboring for fifteen hours, two of those spent pushing, it was decided that I was to go in for an emergency c-section. An hour later, I held my daughter in weak, trembling arms.

As I look at Elizabeth now, toddling and babbling, smiling and clapping, I am incredibly thankful – for her and to have her in my life. I am thankful for the expertise of the doctors who took care of us that night and the nurses who did so the rest of the week afterward, and for the patience and strength of my husband who was at my side the whole time. I realize that, without them, I might not be here, might not have the blessing of holding my daughter in my arms each day, might not even be here to do so. There is no way for me to say just how thankful I am, as I know how fortunate I am.

The other day, I was contacted by Heather Von St. James, a wonderful woman, and I’d like to share some of her story with you in her own words:

In 2005, at the age of 36, and only three months after giving birth to my beautiful daughter Lily Rose, I was diagnosed with pleural mesothelioma. Upon learning of this life-altering diagnosis, my husband Cameron and I embarked upon a search to find the best mesothelioma treatment care available. Our search eventually led us to Dr. David Sugarbaker, a renowned mesothelioma surgeon at the Boston based Brigham and Women’s hospital.

Today, I am a seven-year mesothelioma cancer survivor and have made it my mission to help other mesothelioma victims around the globe. I share my personal story to help spread hope and awareness for others going through this, in hopes that one day no one else will have to.  If having cancer has taught me anything, it’s the value of life and the value of gratitude. My diagnosis was in November, and every year during the holiday season, I am reminded of this difficult time. Therefore, I have set out to acknowledge something in my life that I am thankful for every day throughout the month of December.

– See more at: http://www.mesothelioma.com/heather/#.UqvE8vRDu-c

This Christmas and every day, be thankful for the wonderful things in your life. I know that I am. And thank you for your courage and inspiration, Heather.

Dream Memories: Little Precious

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Author’s Note: This is the storified version of a dream that I had on March 10, 2005. Yes, I actually do write these things down. 🙂

= = = = 

I was so very tired; every part of me ached. I was sweaty and felt nearly ripped in two. The room still swam a bit and I felt too tired to lift a finger. I could hear voices around me, people moving around the room. Some leaving, others staying.

It was over. Finally.

I felt the doctor place a little blanketed bundle in my arms and they shook a little as I raised them to grasp it. It squirmed. I blinked to clear my vision and my breath was taken away for the umpteenth time that night.

He was perfect, absolutely perfect! Perfect little hands, perfect little nose, perfect little mouth. He clenched his little fists and squirmed again, opening his eyes. He looked right at me and seemed to almost visibly relax in my arms. Such clear, bright little eyes. I couldn’t believe it.

I felt lips kiss my forehead and a whisper of absolute amazement above me. I sighed. “Say hi to Daddy.” And lifted him into his father’s arms.

My pillow was soaking wet when I leaned my head back against it. The nurse said they would change my linens and bed after I’d caught my breath. She said he was a beautiful baby boy. We should be very proud. I assured her that we were.

I watched him hold our son, look into that brand-new face, so fresh from God’s presence. I found myself smiling, though I didn’t know what to say. But it was just the most beautiful moment.

After a minute, he placed him back in my arms. “I think he wants his mama.”

Mama. Me? It sounded so foreign to me, so impossible. And yet here he was. I held that precious, terrycloth-wrapped bundle and marveled all over again. Lips kissed my cheek and breath brushed my ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too…Daddy.” That didn’t sound foreign to me. I had always pictured him as a father, with a little boy or girl trailing after his heels. Playing with dogs, climbing trees, teaching his child to love the earth, the forests, and the fields that he had loved all his life. A little boy to teach how to open doors for a lady and to be simply charming, to play video games and knights and dragons with. A little girl—his own little princess—pelting around in the dirt after her grandfather’s chickens in her dress while her father laughs; a little girl to indulge in fairy tales and to teach to dream.

I determined then that our son would be encouraged in his wildness, to dash around the backyard, climbing trees, jumping rocks, and building forts in order to break every bone in his body. To dream of battle, of being a hero. He’d go camping and hiking and hunting with his father and grandfather, learn to love the land. I would read him bedtime stories full of heroes and quests, help him put together costumes for Halloween of superheroes. Campouts in the living room, safaris in the backyard. Yes, I knew there would be hard times, difficulties, shouting matches maybe, even. But we would make it through. God had placed him in our arms and we would give him back to into His hands.

I felt him smile against my temple as I set the little one to nurse.

“We still have to give him his name.”

I smiled, too. “Yes. But what do you say we tell Him thank-you first?”

Don’t Have It In Me Today

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Sorry, dears.  I. Am. Exhausted. Today, I:
1. Cleaned the Keurig coffeemaker
2. Cleared off the kitchen table and did the dishes
3. Rearranged some furniture to put up Christmas decorations
4. Put up the Christmas tree and all the decorations
5. Tidied and organized the garage
6. Have been screamed at constantly by a child who has been wholly unhappy with me all day and with all I have tried to do to soothe her

Yeah, I’m tired. I’m ready for the child to go to bed, take a hot shower, eat food, and just…sit.

In Friendship and Loneliness

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Author’s Note: This is…well, I don’t really know how to explain this post. But it is an attempt at honesty on my part. Not shaming, not condemning, nothing like that. It’s just something that I need to purge from my soul. No one is under any obligation to read it.

= = =

The Holiday Season is a time of joy and family and friends and all of that wonderful stuff. But it also one of the easiest seasons in which to feel loneliness pressing in. That feeling of being alone in the crowd. That’s kind of where I am right now.

This is me feeling lonely. A lot of my formerly really close friendships just aren’t that close anymore due to distance, life changes, etc., and I know that’s a part of life and the passage of time. But I also feel that some of my current friendships are just incidental and not as close or meaningful as I’d like them to be, though I feel like I’m trying very hard. That may just be my view, however, and maybe, when viewed from the outside, I could very well be wrong; but I really feel like I’m trying. I don’t want grade school friendships anymore, friendships that have a ceiling that is, when all is said and done, inconsequential and not rooted in understanding, honesty, or something meaningful. It’s just…loneliness. I know that probably sounds selfish and childish but it’s just where my head is right now.

I personally hate it when I’m blindsided by this because then I just can’t shake it, which why I’m here right now. So, that being said, if you’re not interested, you don’t have to stick around and read the rest of this post. But, if you feel like this, I want you to know that you aren’t really alone, at least not in feeling the way you do.

In all honesty, it’s just hard to feel like I reach and reach and reach and then have to just sit and wait. To give people their space, give them the chance to reach back, and all that. But, the longer I wait, the less I’m convinced that people actually care. That may be really mean but that’s what was in my head when I woke up this morning.  You know, when I actually think about it honestly, I know that there are people who care, who love me, and who reach out to me. But, when I get deep into my own head and heart like this, it just feels like the not’s overwhelm everything else.  I try to keep this in mind: that a good number of my friends have a similar temperament to my own and we tend to retreat inward rather than reach out. It might be for fear of rejection or, maybe ever more the worse, of silence. I try to remember that and be understanding/empathetic of it and patient.

I know that, all things considered, my personal situation is, in some ways, much easier than that of some of my friends, at least currently (at least in terms of time,  work, and the like), and I try to keep that in mind, too, when I start to spiral. Sometimes the perspective helps, but sometimes not. Feelings are sometimes not so easily banished by logic. At the same time, however, I don’t want to chance annoying people by being constantly there at their hip, figuratively speaking, and bugging them or something. I know that other people have very busy lives of their own and, even while I do want some attention (I’d be lying if I said I didn’t) and to feel important, I often feel guilty for being just one more thing to deal with at times. I know that probably most of my friends and the people I know would say that I’m not ‘just one more thing’ but tell that to my psyche, which has an awful lot of time on its hands sometimes.

It is honestly hard for me to go out and make friends of my own sometimes. It’s a vulnerability that makes me nervous and, frankly, scared. A goodly portion of my current friend-base I have met through my husband, at least over the past few years. Yes, there are a few exceptions. Because of that, however, I sometimes feel a little peripheral. (I don’t blame him. He is pretty awesome, kind of why I married him, you know.) I know that it’s probably not entirely true but it’s how it feels sometimes.

In short, I think and feel a lot and I don’t always like it or know how to put it into words. (And sometimes I put it into way too many words.) And, even though I may feel so, I know I’m not the only one who feels this way every now and again. So…whoever you are, wherever you are, I just want you to know that you aren’t alone, however you may feel it. Don’t give up. Cry if you need to. Vent, scream, talk, write. But don’t give up. Keep reaching, keep trying, keep being brave and vulnerable. There are people who care for you, people who feel for you, love you, and think you valuable. There are people who will reach back, as I am being reminded today. And thank you.

‘Tis the Season

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Today is December 1st but I wasn’t feeling it at all. Of course, that could have been due to the extremely busy morning I had. However, once we made it to church and started singing hymns, it was brought home  to me most powerfully that we are in the Christmas season. And it made my heart warm. I love Christmas hymns and all the memories that they invoke when I hear/sing them. I remember 22 years of singing those hymns and Chrismas songs with family and friends, in choir, in church, and around the house, and how it raised my spirits and filled me with that unmistakable “feeling” that is the Christmas season to me. I know that Christmas is more than songs, decorations, gifts, etc., but there is something about the music that just makes me FEEL Christmas-y.

Our neighbors are putting up their lights. I, in my turn,  will get my tree and decorations up this week and start wrapping presents (though they will be hidden away until Christmas Eve because my daughter likes to eat paper and is mobile enough to get her hands on a present before Mommy notices). Time for the Christmas candles and little touches of winter here and there throughout my house. Christmas parties, dinners, and gifts for friends.

Yep. ‘Tis the Season!