Spiritual Strength

We had been away from church for a month. We are Saturday evening mass goers, but there have been a variety of things happening on Saturdays between soccer and Chelle Summer. The hard part about being away from attending mass is that it’s so easy to get out of the routine that it then makes it hard to get back into it.

On Saturday afternoon, I wanted to keep working on the projects I was engaged in, but I knew we needed to go and it didn’t take me long to realize we were where were needed to be.

It wasn’t just about being the physical building– although as soon as I sat down in the pew I felt a sigh inside myself as in, “Thank goodness. I can rest.”

The usher quickly found us and asked us to bring up the gifts, something we regularly do, and I feel like is an extra blessing at mass. And then we received greetings from others.

However, there also has been some pain our church community over the past week or so- the unexpected death of a 31-year-old adult child and the death of an elderly father for another. Being there allowed us to express our condolences, let them know we are praying for them, and also to say an extra prayer for peace and love on the grief journey.

Yes, we were where we needed to be.

When church was closed for so long during the pandemic and then masks kept us from each other, it made it easier to stay separated, to send messages. But that’s not the way it’s supposed to be. We are meant to be there for each other. In person.

And I’m glad we were.

Peace in the Present

It’s so easy to get caught looking backward or forward, or a combination of both. Then when we wonder why we’re feeling bad– because we’re nostalgic for the past or wishing we were in the future where maybe things will be different. We don’t realize that our pain often comes from not rooting ourselves in the present.

I realize there are many people who believe the present is where their pain resides, however, we also have to remember that looking back we see things differently than they probably were and if we look forward, we’re looking toward things that haven’t happened yet and that can either be painful (our fear) or exhilarating (our hope for a better future). And so the vicious cycle begins– we look back, we look forward, and yet we don’t look around right where we’re at.

When I find myself anxious, maybe the worry that I missed a boat somewhere or the hope that I so badly want certain things to happen, I remind myself to stop and look around, to see where I’m at in that particular moment. That’s when I find a wave of peace and the anxiety retreats like an ocean wave.

It’s easy to look past what’s right there, the beauty of our surroundings or the people we’re with. Nothing is ever perfect, but we should always grasp the present moment. After all, soon it will be in the past, too.

The Choice to Move Forward

While there are a great many lessons that came from the suicide of my younger sister Denise, probably the most profound one was that I couldn’t stop living my life because she had died.

I was twenty-one when she died and when I would speak, I always said that before her death the world was my oyster. I knew I was bound for greater things than even I could see in front of me. But after she ended her life, I felt like the oyster shell had slammed shut on me. The key was I had to figure out how to push it back open, to see the open road and everything beyond that hill in front of me again.

In meeting people in the thirty years since Denise died, I have encountered countless people who have chosen not to move forward. These are people stuck in their grief, stuck in the pain, and many times refusing to budge from where they are. I wasn’t going to be one of them.

I have always known that I can’t change the past which means I also can’t bring my sister back. And when she died, I was twenty-one, I had a long life ahead of me. I wasn’t going to be destroyed by the loss. Life is short (Where have these thirty years gone? Heck, where has October gone?).

That’s not to say it was easy as it wasn’t and some days it still isn’t. As our world continues to evolve, and not necessarily in good ways it seems lately, I have to really reach inside myself and remember that I pried that oyster shell open once and I can do it again. Yet I also don’t want to have do to it again so instead I look up and ahead of me. I look at the view. I see the hope. I see the vista that stretches for miles.

And I remember that’s why I continue to forge forward.

Time vs. Process

We’ve all heard it– time heals all wounds.

If only it were true.

In all years my speaking with people after loss, particularly suicide loss, there have been those who had lost a loved one long before I had and their pain was much greater than mine. If it were true that time heals all wounds, they would have been leaps and bounds ahead of me. Instead, often they had been told to stuff their grief (mostly because it was suicide) into the back of the cabinet and move on.

Watching that pain was an integral reason why I worked so hard to process the loss of my sister, my parents, of my divorce, and the countless other losses that have happened in my life. When people ask how I was able to meet Greg and marry him and have such a good marriage, I tell them it’s because I did the work.

I trudged through the incoming surf and darkness like in the photo of the temple in Bali above. It wasn't pleasant ever and I hated every stupid minute of it, but I knew that if I wanted to go forward, it was what I had to do.

The processing road is rocky, but if you choose to stand still and simply look at it, things might get better for a time, but they’ll come back and eat away at you in a bigger, more painful way. It’s better to push yourself forward. You’ll find that sunshine, you’ll find the rainbow.

You’ll find the happiness. I know because I was there and I found it myself.

Sustaining Hope: National Suicide Prevention Week

Sunday was World Suicide Prevention Day and I thought I wrote a really good post on reminding people to seek help and where they could do that (one can call or text 988). The post didn’t go anywhere on Facebook, did a little better on Instagram, did the best on Stimulus. I bring this up because in the United State each day, we lose 132 people, that means a plane full of people dying each day. And yet I find it interesting that Meta, which owns both Facebook and Instagram, clearly kept my post from going anywhere.

Suicide affects us all and the numbers continue to push upwards. There are a lot of reasons to not be happy when one rolls out of bed each morning. Despite all this, I’m here to remind you that there a lot of good things in our lives, but it’s up to use to find them! No one else is going to do it for us. No matter what’s going on around us, we still need to get up, we still need to go through the motions. But in that, we need to add something– seeking what sustains the hope inside us.

I know where I find hope. I have worked hard to cultivate that in my life and I have tried to help others with these blogs and the things that I post on social media. As I write this, I’m getting ready to head up to the high school where Greg teaches and speak to two health classes. Part of my message will be about this very thing I’m writing here– sustaining hope. We can all find hope, but how do we sustain it?

In this National Suicide Prevention Week, my challenge to you is to think about what sustains your hope. Make a list! I hope it’s a long one! Keep it somewhere so that you can refer to it when you feel down (or down on the world at large). Remember that quote and saying, “Happiness is an inside job”? That’s the truth.

Seek it, find it, hold onto it.

Where Hope Resides

It’s hard to believe it’s the start of August and that Greg went back to school yesterday. I’m always reminded, as we head toward fall, that September is the month we put extra effort into suicide prevention with National Suicide Prevention Month and World Suicide Prevention Day.

But there have also been some deaths lately, a death here in New Mexico that no one is saying is a suicide unless one reads between the lines and the death of Sinead O’Connor who couldn’t seem to find peace in herself and then the suicide of her son that made it even more challenging.

All this together started me thinking on what my message September is this year and I realized it’s going to be much different than usual although not a new message for me.

It’s about where we find hope.

I don’t know why, but so often my head the phrase, “where hope resides” travels through and it did last week as I contemplated these deaths and the emotional pain that these people- and so many others– feel.

Life feels so much more challenging these days than ever before- we remain divided and angry. There has been change that makes sense to some and not to others. Even going to a restaurant has come to feel like a chore when you don’t know if they have enough staff to feed you (another topic for another day). Sometimes finding joy feels sucked away with the vacuum cleaner in this change.

When I find myself getting down, the question comes floating through– where does hope reside? In some way, it does in this photo of sunrise in the rice fields in Ubud, Bali. A new day always means a new start. And no matter how difficult the day before was! There is something about darkness giving way to light. After all, it can’t stay dark forever, the sun has to come back.

Perhaps instead of a message this year, a statement of inspiration, I’m issuing my own challenge to everyone (a good challenge, I’d like to think!): where does your hope reside?

Being True

I believe this to be one of the most challenging aspects of life– being true to oneself.

I have watched so many people throughout my life and witnessed their disappointment and sometimes anger at how things have turned out for them. I learned early (although I’m not sure how) that it was going to be a difficult road if I wanted to be who I believe I was supposed to be (and still do). I saw that it meant I wouldn’t always fit in and when things would happen, like when I wasn’t included in things, it was painful and often took years before I understood– having been able to take steps backward by then to survey the entire scene– that it was because I was different, I had a different road to walk, I had different things to accomplish.

There have been many things I could have done to make this road more like everyone else’s, dreams I could have sacrificed, but somehow I understood that wouldn’t be me.

I have been struggling with this new decade I have entered, not for the reasons I see other people struggle with it– mine is because I’ve had so much loss especially in the past two years (not to COVID– everyone has died from other illnesses and some from natural causes). I feel this sense that life is even shorter than it felt before. And there are things that have always motivated and inspired me that are now gone, things that had been with me for a long time, people who were important to me.

I am still motivated and inspired, don’t get me wrong, there aren’t enough hours in the day for all I want to do which is the other side of this dilemma I face– hitting this new decade and figuring out what’s most important to do and how to spend my time.

While I look at what doesn’t fit anymore, it’s also about making sure I stay true to who I am, have always wanted to be. When I’m out running early in the morning, it’s when I think about it the most because I’m usually in prayer (and trying to kill time while getting those miles in). By the time I finish, the list is long and the sun is shining in my office with the summer light giving an extra boost to the color that surrounds me.

I know I’m true to myself then and I use those moments to soak up the positive energy to keep me fulfilled for the continued journey.

The Quarter

I used to post all the times I would find a coin, especially because it seemed to happen quite often. People also told me it made them happy because they understood that for those of us who have lost loved ones, those coins are, well, pennies from heaven.

It doesn’t happen too often anymore– I’m not blaming the pandemic on this one so much (because I still ran everyday during it) as I felt a drop off because my life had changed. I felt as if I didn’t find the coins because I didn’t need those near constant reminders than my deceased loved ones are with me. I chalked it up to moving forward, a good thing.

When we go to mass, I always light at candle for Our Lady of Guadalupe. As the priest I do my spiritual direction will say, God speaks through her to me, perhaps because I don’t always hear God. But I also feel very connected to her as my birthday falls on her feast day.

There are many times I stand in front of the painting of her and I talk to her about my creative endeavors. I don’t want to reveal the specifics right now as that’s between her and I, but I have felt like there was a bit of a gorge in one aspect of where I’m at and where I want to be.

Sunday morning was very windy, after an even windier night, and I didn’t particularly want to go out and run so much as I knew no one else would be out (only those of us who are die hards). As I ran along with Ash, I felt my answer from Guadalupe (or was it God?). I found what I needed, what was missing, what I needed to specifically ask for. While I’m not sure how to exactly tap into what I need, I do know now what it is that I’m seeking.

Not long after that I spotted a quarter.

It was worth it to grin and bear it through the wind. Prayer is often empty but this was a morning when I felt an answer from the a prayer of the day before. It doesn’t happen often so when it does, it’s an inspirational reminder that hope and faith are where it’s at.

Building Blocks

Autobiographies have always been my thing. At the core of what motivates me, you’ll find it’s figuring out what inspires others. This was part of the basis behind writing my newest book, Route 66 Dreams– in searching through the depths of figuring out who I am, I wondered how I arrived at the place I’m at. More specifically, what has motivated me to get here and what motivates me to keep going?

Last week, I mentioned that between my arriving at a new decade and effects of the pandemic, I’m finding some of those motivations and inspirations have changed. I still feel like I’m standing in a hallway of doors that have closed and waiting on some to still open (a few have opened, a few have cracked open leaving me hopeful, but not always sure what’s coming). I know that it’s up to me to open to new inspirations and motivations, yet I am still aware that it can take time to see them or become aware of them.

There is something else, however, that I’ve always understood from my own life experiences and reading those of others– we often look at someone and say, “Wow, look at all they accomplished!” But we also often don’t look close enough to see the places in their lives where– and I don’t want to use the word “failed” but instead say “things didn’t work out as planned.” While we are motivated when good things happen (it’s almost a relief for me to feel the movement under my feet, like standing on a surfboard and finally hitting the wave just right to ride it to shore). Yet sometimes the bigger motivation for us is when things don’t work out, when bad things happen, when life changes course in a way that we didn’t want or embrace. Yet it’s the way that led us to something bigger, to seeing we were capable of much more than maybe we even dreamed.

We must take time the time– and energy!– to be reflective. Yes, there is pain in reaching back to some things, maybe some things we thought we had pushed the door closed on, and yet maybe there’s still something to learn from them before we push them closed for good.

I was out running one morning last week when it occurred to me that things had changed, that I was going to have to forge a new way forward. And yet in that searching, I realized that there is a little side road through my past I need to take. I’m not really sure why, but I do know it’s one that keeps lingering, like where old Route 66 runs alongside the interstate. I’m hopeful that taking this journey another time will be a huge step forward.

Finding Balance

I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed lately. I have this sense that some days I feel pretty good, like I can move through the day and my tasks with ease, but other days I find things to be a bit more of a struggle. Then it occurred to me that it’s because my stamina for being out in the world, for being social, for being out of my head, for not having so much time to be creative (which means in my head!), is not there. I did quite have quite a lot of human engagement in the height of the pandemic thanks to my outdoor activities (my block, my neighborhood community that I would see on my runs), but what I didn’t have were the social activities and as those have increased (thank goodness!), it feels like running a race and building my strength back up.

I am grateful that things are moving forward, that people want to spend time with me, to talk to me. But I’m also finding I need to find balance in that time “in the world” with the time “in my head.”

There is no past to return to– everything has changed– and in that change, I also turned a new decade. I am learning that I can’t say, “Oh, I need to go back to my old routine” as that routine is gone because so much about me has changed in the past two years. I can’t say I like all the changes– at least the ones forced on me!– but I also see good changes about making my life more what I want it to be.

I know that all our journeys through this are unique, as we are unique people, but we all have to find a way forward somehow. Despite everything that keeps happening, I am still hopeful. I just have to make sure that I take care of myself, that I continue to find my way forward, because life is too short to be stuck in one place.

Easter Renewal

As mass started yesterday morning– Easter Sunday– I didn’t feel my usual excitement about Easter. Even last year when it felt like everyone was wearing black (we all know I wasn’t!), I had that sense of renewal inside me and I wasn’t going to be swayed by the lack of hope of so many people. It wasn’t that I felt bad yesterday, I just didn’t feel the excitement I usually do on Easter morning, the times when the joyful music stays in my head long after I’ve left mass.

I admit this was my fault. I had been so caught up in finishing my book Route 66 Dreams when Ash Wednesday rolled around that my Lenten plans never got off the ground. I was ready to move onto a new book, to use that time to focus on a story that is partially finished, but I had to remain with the prior story and then I was too exhausted for several weeks to get my head wrapped around the “new” story.

However, as we traveled through the Easter mass yesterday, it was Fr. Steve’s homily that resonated with me. In particular, when he said–

“People are suffering and there seems to be nothing we can do about it. But God is mysteriously at work. We might not be able to make sense of it all, but God is doing something more wonderful than we can imagine. In due time, it will all be revealed. So, we live with hope, and we do what we can to alleviate the distress around us.”

That was what I needed. I don’t know that I realized it, but after he spoke it, I felt as if a weight, the weight of worry I’ve had for so many things– in my world and beyond– dissipate.

We all need Easter Sunday. While it might mean different things in different faiths, we all need to take a step back, to be reminded to let go, to have faith, to continue to pray and, mostly, hope.

Easter should be a day to refresh oneself for the journey. It was the end of the Lenten journey– however that looked for each of us– and start of a new journey. It’s as if we took a day to stop, to rest, to feel the warm sun on our faces or warmth of people around us, to smell the flowers, enjoy the colored eggs, eat a tasty piece of cake.

Now we have the strength to go forward and continue to believe.

A Reminder as Things Begin to Bloom Again

There is a myth, one I continue to hear thrown out there every December, that people are more likely to end their lives during the holiday season.

No no no. While depression might run more rampant during the holiday because of the disappointment with relationships, sadness over loss, or a variety of other reasons, digging into the numbers, one would see that more suicides happen in March than any other time of year.

March– when things start to bloom, when we get teased with warmer weather, when spring break usually takes place. Yes, that March. My tulips are beginning to sprout and this morning it felt much lighter than it has as I began my swim at 6:30.

For most of us, March is a time of hope and renewal; we begin to feel a surge of energy after the dark and cold of winter.

But for some people, including my sister who died 29 years ago this March, I quickly understood that while I saw hope in things blooming, for her it meant the pain of watching things bloom while her own pain felt inescapable.

Take a step back this month– many aspects of our lives are opening up (while we all step tentatively into them, afraid we might lose them again), but there is still much pain around us. That pain is exaggerated by the site of things turning green and then the first flowers beginning to bloom. As many people feel renewal from getting to switch out the winter coat to a spring one, many others can’t get there.

Check on your own mental wellness this month; make sure you’re doing okay. If you’re not, what can you do to help yourself? And check on those around you and whom you care about. Our pain doesn’t all look or feel the same. If something looks out of place to you, it probably is.

There is hope but sometimes people need a little help finding the color in the tulips and the lighter days.

Breaking the Loop

The loop. We all have at least one– maybe more than one, maybe more than we want to count. The loops that repeat in our heads over and over about how we feel about ourselves, about something we regret we did or said, how we think others see us. They can be endless while sending us into a downward spiral that paralyzes us.

Yes, those loops.

Those are the kind of loops that are meant to be broken. They don’t do us any good so why do we hang onto them other than we’re just so accustomed to them that they are a habit, the kind of habit that needs to be broken.

It takes a little work– I won’t deny it, I’ve spent years cutting my loops and throwing them in the Wednesday trash pick up. But once you learn how to break the loops, you become more aware of them and can stop them before they paralyze you.

The key is finding a way that works for you to stop them so you can break them. In fact, the universe might be trying to break them for you and you just don’t realize it (that phone call or text message that comes through while you’re looping? It’s probably there to help get you out of your head).

For me, I’ve learned to distract myself from the loop. The loop is negative and I know it, but I also know how hard it is to stop myself from the negative fearful thinking that ruled so much of my life. If I’m looping. I force myself to think of something happy and that means switching my mind to thinking about whatever writing project I’m working on or something that I’m sewing. Maybe even a drawing/painting that I’m not quite sure how to get onto paper.

This happened recently– I caught myself in the loop and then moved my thinking to what I was going to write the next day in the latest novel I’m writing. What would happen next in the story? What pieces was I missing? Where was I stuck that I need help to change or make happen?

I found that I instantly felt better and the loop had been thrown in the trash. Sure, the loops keeps trying to come back, pesky things that they are, but I keep breaking them. And the best part? It’s actually forcing me to spend more of my mind and time being creative. I've come to realize how much time I’ve wasted thinking about things that don’t deserve the loop.

Knowing Myself

I’m sure it’s no surprise that that’s me in the photo above. My mom hung this photo in our hall– she had every reason to be proud of it, not because I was in it but because of sunshine she caught bouncing off the water. And the bright colors I’m wearing. That’s me, still today.

When I look at this photo I’m reminded how well I know myself. And how important that is for continuing to forge forward in my life- and navigate all the challenges that come with forging forward.

I don’t like the pandemic. In fact, I hate the pandemic for a lot of reasons as we all do. But I still believe that we’ve been given an opportunity to make positive changes in our lives. The hard part is many people aren’t sure how to do that, especially where to start.

So let me help you.

Start asking yourself questions– Who am I? What do I want from life?

You might not have answers to either of these right away and that’s okay. Remember, sustainable change, the kind that lasts, doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a long, slow road. But it’s worth to stay on it.

Ask those questions as you’re driving, cutting vegetables for dinner. Write them down in a notebook and then jot down answers as they come. You don’t need to write in sentences and things might not make sense right now. That’s okay!

First you need to throw it out to the universe so the universe can throw the responses back to you.

And listen.

You never know where the answers might come from, but the more you ask and the more you work at listening, you’ll find they are right there in front of you waiting for you to acknowledge them.

Staying the Course

Today is the feast day of St. Elizabeth Seton and this reflection I found from Franciscan Media resonated with me:

"She had no extraordinary gifts.She was not a mystic or stigmatic. She did not prophesy or speak in tongues. She had two great devotions: abandonment to the will of God and an ardent love for the Blessed Sacrament. She wrote to a friend, Julia Scott, that she would prefer to exchange the world for a 'cave or a desert.' 'But God has given me a great deal to do, and I have always and hope always to prefer his will to every wish of my own.'"

After several irritations yesterday, I found myself looking for a way to forge myself forward while feeling a bit deflated. When I saw this reflection earlier this morning, I was quickly jolted back to where I need to be, the reminder that I have much to do, that God has much for me to do, and that I can’t let life get me down.

As we begin a new year, a good reminder for all of us. Don’t despair no matter what’s happening around you. Life is too short to get caught up in what keeps us down. After all, some of our greatest joy comes from accomplishing things that we don’t believe we’re capable of doing.

Our Lady of Guadalupe

While I didn’t get to to mention it yesterday on social media, my birthday is really about the Feast Day for Our Lady of Guadalupe.

I had some birthdays along the way that were awful for a variety of reasons. I wasn’t aware of the significance of Guadalupe until I came to New Mexico and slowly found her becoming part of my life. When I’m at church– even in another town or state where there might be a Guadalupe statue (because I travel mostly between New Mexico and California where she is part of the culture), I will light a candle and say a prayer to her.

I always ask her to guide and lead me, to help me with my writing, and to make sure I do the things I’m supposed to do. I believe life has larger, more significant things for me to do and I don’t want to miss them.

The inspiration is coming fast and furious and I’m holding on during the holidays, hoping I can harness it when everything quiets down in January. I’m starting to realize that it’s like Guadalupe is constantly whispering in my ears ideas and bringing me inspiration.

Yesterday, however, the day that we share, was about honoring the last year, the prayers, the inspirations, the accomplishments. While I continue to be inspired, it is important to take that day, that step back, and acknowledge all that’s happened. With her in my life, my birthday has become a more meaningful and spiritual day.

I did that with mass in the morning and a small dinner party with some of the more spiritual people in my life, especially Veronica who is from Mexico and knows more about Guadalupe than I ever will.

Thank you, Guadalupe. I look forward to what we’ll do in the year ahead with you continuing to lead me.

Be Present

Be present.

Seems impossible for many of us, doesn’t it?

How often do we find ourselves distracted from the moment, even a great one, by something else?

But being present is important, it’s a key to life in many ways, or at least to functioning in life. What we often don’t realize, however, is that not being present is the source of much of our pain. We’re always looking one way or another– in the rearview mirror at what we had– or looking forward to what we want but can’t seem to get. Then we find ourselves in a downward spiral of pain.

There is pain in the present, of course, but present moments don’t last forever. The sun always has to come up, light must return.

Whether we have lost someone to suicide and can’t stop looking back at what we didn’t do or what we will never have, or we’re contemplating ending our lives because we can’t bear to face a future, we need to stop walking one way or the other.

Stand still, be present, look around. What’s surrounding you? Life has pain, it’s a reality, Yet by stopping for a moment and just being, we’ll find our perspective changes. By being present.

Seeking a Journey

When my sister Denise died by suicide in 1993, I don’t believe the need to do something for others came instantly. I had a full life at the time of her death– I was getting ready for midterms in my junior year of my undergraduate college degree. It took some time for me to realize that something was missing and I had a skill that could fill that need.

At the time, there wasn’t an internet to connect people and it was mostly by reading books and talking to others (but that meant you had to find others who had lost a loved one to suicide, and in my case it was a sibling which was even more challenging to do) that gave you the connection. What I felt was that there was little available to sibling survivors of suicide and if I were to fulfill a need, it was to write a book and give a voice to what were then called the “forgotten mourners.”

It will be twenty years this coming July since the publication of Do They Have Bad Days in Heaven? Surviving the Suicide Loss of a Sibling was published and sent me on an incredible journey around the world speaking, writing, and advocating for not just the suicide bereaved, but also for suicide prevention.

At some point, I felt as if I had done all that I was supposed to and started to move back to the things that had always been important to me– my writing and then the outgrowth of other aspects of my life, the creation of Chelle Summer. However, I have tried to some little things to raise money and awareness for suicide, not always able to get the results that I would like and I’ve tried to leave that behind.

There has been some good movement in the field of suicidology since I moved onto other things, but I’ve also seen things that make me shake my head and other things that I had started have died because the person I gave the torch to buried it instead. Those stories aren’t for today though. This is about what we encourage people to do after a loss. For so long, it felt like people were encouraged to somehow get involved whether with the bereaved or in suicide prevention efforts.

However, I see that there are many ways we can do things to remember our loved ones, mostly through something that was important to them. Perhaps, if my journey were starting today instead of nearly thirty years ago, and the book had already been written, maybe I would have gone straight to Chelle Summer and using the inspiration of the creativity of my childhood with Denise to build my brand instead.

But I don’t usually look at it that way. If someone were to call me today and tell me that they had lost a loved one and what could they do, I would encourage them to do something that is important to them and/or their loved one. What outwardly might not be helping the bereaved or advocating for suicide prevention could still be helping people, but in a different way.

The important part is that we find a “place” to put the suicide, and remember our loved ones for the lives they lived, not for the way they died.

The Ember of Hope

As I approach the 28th anniversary of my sister Denise's suicide later this month, I debated what message I would want to convey. I didn't know right up until Greg hit play on the video recording, but here it is, very reflective of where my journey is today.

Movement

I have a whacky workout schedule and I often hesitate to tell people how much I do daily because I understand how whacky it looks from the outside. But there’s more to it than the need to add steps and workouts to my Garmin watch.

There are three segments to the running part of my workout – I run Lilly, then I run Ash, and then I go for my run (which has gotten slower of the years and isn’t helped by the very cold mornings we’ve been experiencing this fall and winter season). But I trudge through my nearly six miles each day, walking some on weekends.

Then, five days a week, I quickly change after I get home and head to the gym pool with Greg where I swim for 45 minutes.

By the time we get home, I'm done and I can sit down to write and sew and do other activities that require being still. The best part is that I have a feeling of satisfaction that I’m not getting from a lot of other areas of my life because of the pandemic. That’s why I do this whacky thing five days a week.

Movement is partly what has saved me in the nearly year since the pandemic started. While I am not able to do some things in my life that are important to me, especially in my personal life (having dinner parties) and in my professional (taking Chelle Summer to event), at least when I run and swim I feel like I’m moving forward in some way.

The pandemic has forced all of us to rethink not just what’s important to us, but how we maneuver through life when we aren’t able to do the things that help us be hopeful and joyful. And sustain us in the routine of life. For me, one of those aspects has been a several-hour workout, but one then allows me to relax (in my head, at least!), knowing that I’ve completed that part of my day and I can now move into the next part.