The Simple Life

I want the simple life. I am burning the candle at both ends and I long to stop before the flames meet in the middle and finding nothing else to burn, extinguish themselves. And so today is the first day of my simple life.

As of today, I am no longer a manager. I hired my replacement and she is in training but the time seemed good for me to step down and allow her to step up. I am now her employee and it feels, well, weird.

A staff member asked my permission for overtime today and I sent her to the new manager. I’ve not done that in a long time and I’m sure it will take more time for me to get used to doing but for my own mental and physical health, I plan on sending all requests to her.

So, I take a deep breath and find I feel confused but relieved. Let someone else worry about the budget while I happily plug along with my workload more than halved. My chest doesn’t feel as tight, the seemingly permanent lines on my forehead relax somewhat and I practice breathing in and out.

Now is the time for me to concentrate on, gasp, me --to heal myself physically, emotionally and spiritually as much as humanly possible. To learn to just be still and relax. I’ve no doubt that this will take some time for me to get off this merry-go-round I have been riding but for my own sanity I must try to simplify.

During this Thanksgiving season, I am thankful for all my blessings. All the blessings that God has graciously granted to me in the past and all that I know He will bless me with in the future. I am thankful for my family and friends, for each day I can get up and go to work, and for each day that I cannot get out of bed and walk. For those days of darkness are still blessings that I am still alive and blessings of learning opportunities – especially learning patience with myself.

I am thankful that I have, although belatedly, finally realized that I can slow down and it is okay. So I’m working towards the simple life and I’ve taken a pretty major step in that direction. I still have a long way to go with organizing the rest of my life in a simplified manner but I believe that I can get there now that some of the weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

I am thankful for the simple life I dream of living.

I'm Dying (P.S. So Are You...)

I am dying. It isn't a terrible cancer scare or airplane crash as I fly through tumultuous skies. Instead it is the very act of living that is killing me. Each day I am growing older. Each day I am decaying. I fast forward that very process with the great killers of stress, poor nutrition choices and lack of exercise because I am too tired.

I often wonder why I choose a Milky Way over life? Why that 10 minutes of lounging on the couch is worth more to me than 10 minutes on the treadmill? Hasn't the time passed the same? Not moving faster or slower but still the same 10 minutes and yet how much better I could choose to spend my time.

I am indolent by nature and truly prefer the lounging but unfortunately like time and tide my indolence has caught up with me and I'm dying. Death by chocolate bar. Death by indolence. Death by time and stress and disease.

For some of this I have no control, as I cannot stop time for me except for my death. I have no desire to rush that event either. I cannot change some of the diseases I now find myself facing. They are what they are and I am not God with the ability to stop either time or disease. But for other deaths I do have choices. I could choose to watch my weight and exercise and somehow figure out a way to lower stress.

Certainly I know how to fix my diet and my exercise or lack thereof. I don't want my tombstone to read 'death by eating crap food.' But the death by stress confuses me greatly. Work is stress. Family is stress. Writing is stress. Driving is stress. Flying is stress. Marriage is stress. Parenting is stress. Living is stress. Even owning a pet is stress (as anyone who has had to put down an animal as I just did can attest to).

I am a bundle of nerves--some frayed, some severed, some twisted and bent. So I tried yoga and felt some relief until I leave the studio and my stress intensifies for now I find myself berating myself for carving out the time for the class from my busy schedule.

I listen to calming music and try to practice meditation. By my mind plays hopscotch from one subject to another as I try to slow it down. How to combat this killer stress?

I know that I am causing harm as stress intensifies the pain of my Fibromyalgia, Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome and Chronic Fatigue. It increases my blood pressure and harms my heart which I'm sure does not help my Peripheral Arterial Disease.

I am dying from a lack of inner and outer calm. What is with me that I cannot contain my inner thoughts, cannot turn off the tape in my head that pushes me to do more, achieve more, work more and attain? This "more" mentality is killing me slowly but surely.

I try to gain some perspective as I look out the window of the airplane I am flying on and see all the tiny houses and cars below me filled with ant like beings scurrying from one place to another. So full of self importance and yet barely showing up from my vantage, and I wonder if this isn't a bit like God. I look down and see the insanity of it all and I shake my head lovingly with a mixture of wonder and confusion. Does it really matter? Why don't we pursue the important things like salvation, charity and hope with the same desperation as we pursue the bigger house, the job promotion or the latest car or electronic toy?

From my vantage point I see that our pursuits are nothing more than a speck in the scheme of things. I am nothing more than a speck and my hive of busyness and stress is nothing, at least, nothing more than I allow it to be. So here I am, looking down, listening to calming music and wondering what I really have to be stressed about that is quite literally taking my life day by day.

I know once I land in this plane I will pick up my stresses as surely as I will pick up my luggage from baggage claim. I will consider my to-do list and no doubt add to it. The tightness in my chest will return but for a minute now I can be still and know the Almighty is God and in control and though my stressors are just little specks to Him, He cares for me and the specks that make up my life.

I am trying very hard to slow down, to allow myself to heal. To break the chains that mind me named "more" and "ambition" and "attainment" and instead learn to live a healthier life.

I know I have an obligation to take care of myself not only for myself but to my family and friends. I am trying to be still and calm, trying to slow down my self destructive march to certain death. I am trying to embrace the fragility of life and nurture and protect that life. I am trying to leave stress behind me as much as possible. But I am struggling with this. Somehow I have to learn to live like I am dying without killing myself in the meantime.

By the way, has anyone seen my luggage? Stressed, party of one at the baggage claim.

(Written August 15, 2010 while flying to Dallas, TX)

In Whom Do You Believe?

So I’m writing a novel. A young adult novel with the catchy title of The Preacher’s Daughter. (Can’t you see teenagers rushing to the bookstore to buy that one? Lol!) I know, art imitating life. Sort of. Actually, it isn’t autobiographical. Really. It isn’t about me. And it is entirely me.

And the preacher isn’t my Dad. And since my Dad is my image of a preacher it is somewhat my Dad but mostly me.

And the main character, the preacher’s daughter, has a much older brother and sister. But they aren’t my siblings. They are mostly me and people I know and my siblings.

And the friends of the main character aren’t my friends past or present. They are people I know. And people I watch in airports and hotel restaurants. And partly my friends past and present. But mostly me.

I’m writing this novel not because it is cheaper than therapy but because I have a story to tell - and it is cheaper than therapy.

The main character is looking for answers where I have always had questions. She wants to find love and acceptance and happiness and God. And I have questioned love and acceptance and happiness and God. Like I said, she is mostly me.

As a preacher’s daughter I have been taught faith, hope and charity. My character has too but like me she doesn’t always see those traits in action.

I want to believe. I want to have faith and hope and show charity to all. And then some idiot driver cuts me off twice on the drive home and charity goes out the window.

I want to believe that God loves me, has a plan for me and is intimately concerned with my well-being. But if that is the case, why can I barely breathe for the pain and walking and standing such a difficult chore?

Then again, am I changing the Almighty into a Santa Claus figure who looks like a grandfather handing out goodies to greedy children like me? Society teaches me I can have it all and some television preachers tell me to name it and claim it and if my faith is strong enough and I say enough “Hail Mary May I’s,” I’ll win the God lottery and be rich and blond and unnaturally tan with big hair (wait am I describing me in my high school days?) and all will be merry and light.

Each day I have to get up and get through the day. Each day my character tries to do the same and stay below the radar. That part wasn’t me until lately. I just try to do the best I can now with what I have been given, but my hip still hurts and I can’t feel my foot except for the sharp knifing pain and on and on and on but if I say that too often or too loudly it can and will be used against me.

As an infant, I was dedicated, as a child I was baptized and joined the church, as a teenager I rebelled and as an adult I am befuddled. I don’t always get it and I probably never will understand it all, perhaps that is the way it is meant to be for me. I find there are always new questions and old doubts.

In the course of the novel, my character grows, changes and adapts and finds a sense of peace, love and acceptance after enduring severe trials and tribulations (and hopefully a publisher who will take this project on as the trilogy it is meant to be). And I’m hoping to find the same because she is mostly me but she isn’t me.

And like me, my character is facing a challenging year with life altering decisions to make, and because she is mostly me, these decisions affect not only my character and me but others as well. And like my character I don’t usually know what decision to make or even how to make a reasoned decision.

Maybe the process of change and growth and adaptation and dare I say it, evolution is what I am in the midst of and I find it difficult to see beyond the day to day but if I can find a grain of hope I can live on to see another day. Because like my characters I am searching but not always finding what I’m looking for and it is easy to be disheartened. Strength is not my forte these days - strength to walk or to stand or to hope or to believe.

And yet, there is a pinprick of light or a drop of stubbornness. Just as my character never gives up in spite of her obstacles I have some faith in me just as she does because she is mostly me. Faith in God, my fellow man and my ability to endure drives me on. Because I have seen charity and I have seen the result of faith. I have seen the sick healed and the lame walk and dance and I have heard God’s love through the acts of another.

The questioning me thinks maybe it is a trick of the mind that makes me think this and maybe it is. But it is so much more positive than the alternative that I choose to accept. And that is all faith really is. Choosing to accept. Like my character who is mostly me, I understand that it isn’t an outward thing that makes me different it is the sum of my experiences and life’s battles.

I don’t have the answers or even know all the questions but for tonight it is enough to breathe and hope and pray and love and give freely to others.

So I, like my character who is mostly me, believes partly because I want to and partly because I'm afraid not to. Which reminds me of a story I heard about Billy Graham and an atheist. The atheist said to Billy Graham, what if you are wrong about God and Heaven? And Billy Graham replied, What if I am? If I am wrong I have lived a moral life and if I am right I get to go to heaven. If you are wrong, you spend eternity in hell. The atheist then believed.

I am at a crossroads in my life and the burdens are heavy and confusing but I will try to keep believing as much as I can and like my character will make it through the valley. The "weary ways" will pass, I hope and hopefully I will finish my book and my character like me will be set free.

I Know Whom I Have Believed by Daniel Whittle

I know not why God’s wondrous grace To me He hath made known, Nor why, unworthy, Christ in love, Redeemed me for His own.

Refrain:But “I know Whom I have believed, And am persuaded that He is able To keep that which I’ve committed Unto Him against that day.”

I know not how this saving faith To me He did impart, Nor how believing in His Word Wrought peace within my heart.

I know not how the Spirit moves, Convincing men of sin, Revealing Jesus through the Word, Creating faith in Him.

I know not what of good or ill May be reserved for me, Of weary ways or golden days, Before His face I see.

I know not when my Lord may come, At night or noonday fair, Nor if I walk the vale with Him, Or meet Him in the air.

Pain Scale Begone!

I was diagnosed with RSD/CRPS a few weeks ago. I remember watching a TV show about a woman who was confined to bed due to RSD and I recall telling the person I was watching with that I was thankful I didn’t have that. Fibro was bad enough. Then a few weeks later, I was diagnosed.

Went to the doctor today and one of the first things out of his mouth was to ask me about my pain level and asked me to rate it on a scale of 1 -10. I’ve been dealing with this little pain scale for years and I still don’t know what to answer.

There’s a question screaming inside my head begging to be asked so I must ask it here. A scale of 1- 10 meaning what? I mean, it is totally subjective. Imagine I cannot feel pain does that mean the pain isn’t there? Is the “10” ranking of hurts worse mean the worst pain I have ever felt or the worst pain anyone has ever felt? Pain is my constant companion and just because I’m not lying in the floor screaming doesn’t mean I can’t feel it. “Normal” for me is usually a 7 or 8, I suppose.

If I’m writhing in the floor screaming for mercy then I get to claim 10? Or what about the days I can’t get out of bed without assistance or the pain level that nearly makes me black out? How do I count the days that I cannot walk without a cane?

If I was at a “0” of “no hurt” why the heck am I looking at a pain chart to start with? I don’t know who the Wong-Baker is/are that created this chart, but I think I don’t like them.
Next my doctor wants a descriptive term – burning, sharp, tingling, stabbing, etc. and I respond with yes. He now thinks I am mentally deranged because I cannot answer a simple question though I believe I have answered it appropriately. I chose “E” or “all of the above” because they all apply. It may burn here, tingle there, stab somewhere else.

So, the doc gives me medication to treat the disease and try to keep it from spreading, blood thinners, offers stronger pain meds, etc. The meds all make me sleepy. So then I am offered another pill to wake me up. Seriously, I can have pain meds and speed and that seems just fine with everyone? That is messed up logic in my mind. I decline the stronger pain meds and the wake up pill and will self-prescribe my sleepiness with a caffeinated beverage. Without the pain meds I grind my teeth a lot and continue on. With the pain meds I stare into space and sleep the day away. Not a great way to spend your time in this short life.

I do wish I could take a nap from time to time, though. I have no idea why this would be frowned upon by my employer. :)

Happy Monday all. Now back to the daily grind.

A Season for Every Thing

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.


I am in the depths of despair and the heights of exultations. How is that possible? How have I found a season of rejoicing at what is conceivably the lowest point of my existence?

I’m not sure except that I am promised that there is a time and season for every thing in this world.

I was born and just as surely as that event took place, I will die. This means I have the opportunity to live in between those events. I have planted hopes and dreams and those have been plucked from me.

I feel that a part of me has been killed in the process. I am looking for my time to heal my physical, emotional and spiritual being. In that process, I am breaking down and hopefully building up.

I have wept and laughed. I am mourning that which I have lost and I hope to find the heart and joy to dance again.

I don’t want to cast stones but I’m willing to gather and build up. I have embraced joy and love and now find I refrain from embracing.

I have gotten and lost; I have kept and consider casting away.

My heart and spirit is torn and I want to have it bound up again. I have kept my silence and now I am speaking up for the first time in years. I have found my own voice at last.

I don’t want to hate or have war but I look forward with hope to a time to love and to obtain peace at last. I know peace exists; I just have to find it.

I know I will find it because to every thing there is a season. There will someday be a season of peace and rest for me. And that is my hope of my current season.

The Game of Life

The night is cold and the wind is blowing so hard that the windows rattle in their frames. As a result the girls are staying in tonight and brought out the board game "Life" to pass the time. If only life was so easy to live as the spin of a dial and a cardboard colored board slots with life choices on it.

Those choices, do you want to be married, have kids, college, career? are so difficult and confusing even to this well-seasoned veteran of life. I'm 43 years old and I'm facing a new year with a multitude of life changes. How to choose? If only there was a dial I could spin that would tell me which direction to go.

I watched my grandmother this weekend at her 90th birthday party and considered all the life choices and changes she has seen and survived. I looked around the room full of my family and considered all the paths, perils and pitfalls they have faced individually and together. And I find myself looking for the wheel to spin.

Unfortunately, there is no wheel to spin and the choices I make this year affect myself and my family. I have to choose carefully and not let the "what might have beens" and the "what ifs" paralyze me. What path will I take this year? I don't know yet but am thankful I still have a chance to choose my own wheel to spin.