Never Regret a Smile

I’m middle-aged and just now discovering what that might mean.

I’m not talking about wrinkles or stress or looming AARP mailers. I’m talking about regret. Why do we have stereotypes of freakouts during this time in our lives? If nothing more, it could be for the simple reason that our bodies are innately trying to do what we should be doing all along: regret nothing.

Sure, getting older means you know things. Your confidence grows as your experience lengthens. However, I’m becoming convinced that your middle-aged body's influx of energy is nature's way of trying, in a last-ditch effort perhaps, to get you back into a constructive mindset of growth and exploration: one based in joy, happiness and wonder.

If you can couple that mindset in a healthy way with the wisdom you’ve accrued, what revelations await? It doesn't have to simply result in a frivolous car purchase or destructive relationship choice.

Working as an assistant in an elementary school perhaps helped me begin to regain access to this more youthful perspective on the world where things are more fluid and potentials unchecked. Taking on the persona of a rogue in the classic MMORPG World of Warcraft back in my 30s, then diving into Japanese anime like Bleach and Attack on Titan and now enjoying Korean dramas such as this year’s Signal, W and Another Oh Hae-young and Korean pop like BTS’s I Need U- I've been reminded over and over to just loosen up and look at things differently. To not give in or up or simply endure but to enjoy what I'm doing and not regret it.

Basing your daily activities around the goal of simply experiencing them fully can make you truly appreciate all that you have right around you more intimately. It also reminds you that life is basically pretty good and can be made better by every one of your choices.

My biggest hope today is we all find a moment where we smile with pleasure and regret it not a whit.

Hitting the Wall

I cried today.

It was a great morning. My husband and I drove to a local park for a 3 mile run. I was plugged into some great music. The pace was great and the woods and trail were inviting. Quick smiles and greetings were traded with the others along the leaf-strewn path. I was confident: I had this down.

I’d been diagnosed with bronchitis earlier this month and I thought I had conquered it. Today, my legs felt strong and my whole body was moving easily but about a mile in, the lungs started to rattle.

My matching pace became a lagging behind pace. Then a “I’ll catch up in a bit” pace. Then the terrain and wheezing just became too much and I dropped to a walk as I watched him pull further and further ahead. The growing heaviness in my chest was only partially my chunked up lungs. I don’t recommend a cry-baby moment at a time like this. But there I went.

I went because I hate failing but I seem to do it again and again.

Hubby looked back several times- don’t get me wrong. I may have tried to hide my tears and call out that I’d meet him back at the car- I’ve been known for moments of pigheaded pride like that. I stubbornly marched alone, falling further and further into my funk.

Being the generally good guy that he is, he came back on his own and put his arm around my shoulder. He spoke encouraging words: it was a hard trail, you’ve been sick, you tried your best. He asked why I was crying.

I had to admit that I was frustrated with myself. I’ve been keeping my T1D under control. I wasn’t failing because of that. Now it was another part of my body thwarting me. Seemingly laughing at me as it waved its ability to stop me one way or another in my face.

Once I admitted it, his words could sink in. He reminded me that a guy running in the opposite direction had smiled broadly at each of us and shouted “You’re doing great! Keep it up!”. I hadn’t been able to hear it at the time and I couldn’t blame it all on Vixx.

I felt like I failed but in reality, I only did less than what I envisioned as success. If I switched my perspective, I succeeded in ways that I hadn’t even considered. Time outside. Time with my spouse. Time exchanging positive words with him and others. Time acknowledging where I’m at and time accepting the goodness of it.

I’ll get back on the trail soon. I can’t stop trying.

Fear and Loathing in 2016

2016 could be characterized in part by 2 very unsettling phrases I’ve heard over the year: “trust the process” and “post-truth”. In my mind, the root of both of these turns of words, and the reason they are so dangerous is this: fear.

In and of itself “trust the process” can be construed as something quite positive. Our democracy is a system that has run for hundreds of years- we should trust it. We work within corporations and other organizations with rules and codes of conduct- we should rely on them. However, when we actually feel the need to say the phrase “trust the process”, we should take a really hard look and consider. What is triggering it? Why is there enough doubt to inspire the speaking of it? What is going on to erode the innate sense of security we feel when we know (even though it’s not perfect) that we’re in a good place mentally, emotionally and physically?

Oxford Dictionaries has picked the word “post-truth” as the international word of the year for 2016. It’s an adjective to describe public opinion where the public’s beliefs are not based on facts but are based on ideas beyond or outside of actual facts. What can be legitimately demonstrated and proven is no longer important in a post-truth world.

If we can’t or don’t base our ideas and principles on facts, how can we trust the process?

The answer is simple: we can’t. We’d be living in fear and fear can eat us alive. Fear can tear us apart. Fear can keep us from doing anything at all or drive us to the unthinkable.

As we prepare for a new year, it behooves us all to think about what really matters to us and LIVE it. Let’s go BEYOND post-truth and base our actions on truth and love. To every person we meet and with every word we speak, we should act with earnest intention and not in fear, but in truth and love. Truth and love for self. Truth and love for other. Truth and love for us all.

Something New from Socrates

Socrates had something here. Even as I looked out my window this morning in shock at the howling wind and blowing snow screaming through the crimson leaves still clinging to the bushes off the patio, I knew I shouldn’t fight it. I knew I should accept it. I’m in a new realm now and I have to build anew.

Tides turn. Seasons change. The Earth revolves around our star, The Sun, and the night will follow the day as surely as the bread will land peanut butter side down.

Don’t fight it. Build on it.

Sometimes, building the new involves changing our perspective. We can bemoan the cold or look at it as a way for Nature to control all the bugs that pester us during summer. We can shake our fists at the black skies at 5:30 at night in November or consider the deep gloom as a chance to regroup and slow down.

Changing perspectives is relatively easy when compared to the next definition of building the new: jumping feet first into a whole new way of being. Maybe that cold weather is simply too much and you decide to move to New Mexico. Or maybe that job you’ve had for years cannot be salvaged and you must discover a new career path. Perhaps a relationship you thought was the top asset to your well being is cut and you need to re-plot your course toward a totally different port.

The key is to be open to that change, whatever size it ends up being. That’s hard. Sometimes we’re so invested in what was, we can’t see the potential for what could be. Some kids hang on the monkey bars day in and day out not because they really enjoy it, but because they are blind to, or afraid to try, something new. The student, just like any one of us, needs open eyes to see and open ears to hear.

We can each be the mouthpiece for change- for ourselves and for each other. The reward is something new.

Not...Yet.

Thanks to Teespring for this shirt that keeps popping up on my Facebook feed. Folks that know me know that I’ve been lured into buying novel t-shirts quite a bit this year. I’ve managed to resist this one, but I do have a story to tell about it.

Through some strange alignment of my chakras or planets or something, I’ve actually started to get in pretty good shape this year. I’ve have Type 1 Diabetes since 1994 and given birth to 2 amazing boys so I’ve had my share of food regimes and drives to keep moving, but this is different. I’ve actually started running.

I never thought I’d be able to stay on a treadmill for 3 miles.  I’m still working on *really* running- you know- on paths. In sunlight. Up hills you can’t hit a button to reduce the incline on. But when I first started a Couch to 5K program, this t-shirt’s message screamed “YES!!!!” to me. I honestly didn’t think I would be able to finish my goal. I sat and read through much of my childhood. I had tried this running thing once before as an adult and ended up with shin splints that shut me down completely. I’m in my 40s- I deserve to kick back and relax for a while, right?

Sometimes, life is like that. Sometimes, it really does hurt all over and you can’t do it. What if it’s just that you’re meant to do something else instead? Perhaps it’s just not time for this goal...yet.

I’ve juggled these pins (my mind, my body, my food, my insulin, my exercise) countless times already. They have been both my guardians and my demons over the years. I’ve cursed each and every one of them at some point. Right now, we’re all agreeing to follow a common contract- I can’t pinpoint a specific part of the puzzle that sealed the deal. I’d like to think my boys in BigBang might have been part of it. Lol! I’m just grateful and hoping we can all just keep getting along as we are for a good long while.

We each face obstacles along the way. Some return again and again. We can’t give up but we can cut ourselves some slack when a goal pulls away from our reach- when it hurts all over and we feel like dying. Life might be telling us to go somewhere else and do something else first. What might happen if we’re open to “Not...Yet”?