Soft & Gentle

There was a setback, there was a complication, we hit a bump in the road, it didn't go as planned. I shouldn't have done that. That was not what I meant. I never saw that coming. I should have anticipated that. I should have known better. I should have done something, or I shouldn't have done something. What was I thinking. Ever have conversations like these? Many of them happen in our heads, mental conversations where we second guess every little thing. 

I did this earlier this week. I was lamenting how something went. For making a mistake which changed a situation in a split second. I was feeling bad for not managing what happened. I expected to be able to control all the split seconds life throws at me. As if I ever had that much control. That's rather asking a lot, isn't it? Slightly unrealistic and entirely way too harsh. Because frankly, if I can't be soft and gentle with myself, who will be? It has to start here.

So, backing up that bus, how do we do that? How do we shift from criticism to encouragement? From holding unrealistic expectations hostage to accepting the flow of life, learning and self-love. I'd be a genius if I had a sure-fire answer to those questions. I am honestly, a work in progress. Case in point, I almost typed "I am just a work in progress". I erased the "just", I don't have to justify myself that way. I am a work in progress. I may be a slower learner, but I am a learner. I may not even be all that slow. Knowledge comes according to the bigger plan. When the timing is right, and I'm open to it, it all becomes clear. I do hold on to fear longer than necessary. So, I pray for the ability to release fear and increase faith. I accept that I am a human being prone to human moments. I won't get it all right, but I do my best. In fact, if I took time to count, I get a lot right. So, I take a deep breath, wrap myself in faith and forgiveness. Then I move softly forward. Having learned, having loved, having hope.

Owning It On The Roads of Life

There are certain things that make me anxious. Owning it is the first step. Thank God for that phrase, it sure comes in handy. Since I'm owning it, I'll expand upon it. I don't like going places when I don't know where I'm going. I know Google Maps has a better sense of direction than I will ever have, yet driving new places gives me anxiety. Yet, how do I experience new places if I never go? Is it fear of the unknown, fear of being lost, fear of not getting it right. Fear of being alone and lost. When hiking, I want to know where the path comes out before I take it. I'd have never made it as a pioneer. I don't even like walking into bars first, can I just follow someone please? I've had this fear of being alone for a long time, and yet, I've been alone for a very long time. Successfully I might add. My preference is feeling safe. In a place that feels comfortable with a support system I can count on. It kinda rules out much in the way of adventure. No one will ever describe me as adventurous. A little neurotic maybe, occasionally delusional, but not adventurous.

I like routine, routine feels safe. Routine can be lonely though. Since I lead a somewhat solitary life, I need to push myself. Well, I bet we all need to push ourselves. I bet some things make everyone anxious. Or maybe some people never feel anxious. Maybe they've been blessed with courage, curiosity and confidence. Maybe they got my share. It could happen.

I'd feel better if I had a copilot. Sometimes I forget that I do, it's the big guy upstairs. Instead of looking too far down the road, further than my eyes can see. I need to stay in the moment. Trust the process, be open to the plan. Yes, follow the directions, but believe in the outcome. Believe in me. And it wouldn't hurt to breathe along the way. What do you struggle with? And how can you move through it easier? Owning it is the first step, and baby steps follow afterwards. Breathe and believe as you travel the roads of life.

Growing. Blooming, Letting Go

It is that time of year when we lose the gardens we so carefully tended to frost and changing seasons. I've thanked the flowers for keeping me company all summer, and vegetables for providing sustenance physically, spiritually and emotionally. I've picked the last of the tomato's showing color. Every day I walk the garden, water, weed and take pictures for when the snow files.  Yes, somethings grew beautifully, some not so much. I have one plant just setting fruit. No way I'll see that to harvest. Another just started to bloom long after I decided it just wouldn't. I've covered a few plants tonight to protect them from the frost and prolong their beauty just a little bit. 

Isn't that just like life. We plant seeds, some produce, some tease us. Some fail to thrive.  I've taken cuttings to hopefully hold over until next season. I've brought in a few plants that I know will tolerate life indoors until the porch beckons them again. 

A year ago, about this time an old man brought me a wandering Jew plant he potted up because frost was going to kill it. I didn't know the man, so it was random we connected at the shop I work in. And, while I thought it was silly to drag the pot home, and winter the scraggly thing over, I did just that. I planted them in several places, and they absolutely thrived. We should all grow like that. Lesson learned; scraggly things can become a thing of beauty given the chance.

I hope I have bloomed over the season. I hope I've set deep roots, taken nourishment, let go of what didn't serve me well, and grown into something more beautiful. I trust the process. I know some seeds never grow and some grow beyond our wildest dreams. Some volunteer in the least likely of places. Some come back every year, some are one and done. I wish you the same in your seasons of growth. I'll look ahead to the seasons as they unfold. Grateful for all that blooms where it is planted.  

Can You Relate?

You know what I miss? I miss compliments. Affirmation. Feeling valued and attractive. I've kinda given up on makeup and primping. Part of that fell away when masks were a requirement. Part I think is due to experiencing traumatic loss. I've felt invisible. Like no one really sees me. I imagine I've taken on a different role; I feel like I have less value because of being a widow, especially a widow whose spouse chose to die. I know, it's complicated. It's not right. It's jacked up. There is some truth there mixed with the weight of stigma. Part of me gave up on feeling good, on believing in good relationships, on imagining other possibilities. The pandemic didn't help with that. Owning it is the first step. 

I put some makeup on for a photo recently. No one seemed to notice any difference. But when I joked about it a coworker said, but didn't you feel better for doing it? Which got me thinking...did I feel better for doing it? Or did I feel bad for not doing it? I'm not sure I know the answer to either question, but it's definitely food for thought. Sometimes it's easier not to feel. Sometimes we have to dig deep for the feelings.

So, I pause to consider what my window to the world looks like. What I miss, what I value, what I bring to the table. What is real and true. Maybe it's an age thing, this feeling of loss. Maybe it's a multitude of things. Some related, some not related. It's where I am, and I find it confusing. 

Once again, I'm owning hard things. Where do you fall into this picture? What makes you feel seen, valued, attractive? Has it changed over the years? Can you relate?