Portraying an Image

We are so much more than our fears allow us to be.

The fear of being judged prevents most individuals from living their dreams, taking risks, wearing comfortable clothing, going on a trip alone, falling in love, ditching the destructive relationship and pretty much every aspect of life.  We stifle our lust for adventure.  Our identity, our passions, our truth becomes hidden behind the illusion of What Will People Think.

A week into my enrollment to become a certified Health Coach, I uncovered that I have been traveling in this direction for a years.  I just didn’t know it.  When I stopped looking outside of myself for my life’s purpose, the answers appeared and the inner compass exposed my calling.   One of those signs came from a simple three-ingredient Christmas treat that ravished my body in an allergic reaction and one more food item was added to my list of never-touch-that-again.  The need to explore healthy options grows and is the driving force behind my desire to help others with their food intolerances.  I want to know how our diet affects our health.

As I wrote my thoughts in a journal, a question surfaced – If I am a Health Coach, don’t I have an image to uphold?  Does this mean the grocery store clerk is going to judge me harshly because I have a bottle of wine, a bag of potato chips and a six-pack of chocolate bars on the conveyer belt, or is she going to smile sympathetically and know it’s that time of the month?  Does this mean I have to run marathons or become a yoga instructor?  What if I post things contradictory to a healthy lifestyle on Facebook?

 

The fear of being judged can be overwhelming and it stifles our authentic self.

 

My intent as a Health Coach and author is to assist people explore healthy eating options tailored them and to find balance in the four elements of life – career, relationship, spirituality, physical activity.

I am, just like you, a work in process.  Life is forever evolving.  I plan to share my stories, knowledge and keep an open mind to new possibilities.  As far as my image, just know that I am sassy, I am a momma of two sons (and their beautiful wives) and a grandma to three boys, I am a writer, I love to giggle, I am bull-headed, I swear, I love deeply and the rest I’ll leave to your imagination.

Life is an amazing adventure…

Tears Change Plans

I am avoiding.  I admit it.  No shame. No guilt.  Eight hours were carved out of my calendar today with the intention to let the fingers freely tap dance on the keyboard like Fred Astaire and write blog posts about life’s adventures and promoting business.  Then life happened.  Like a cat wrapped around my ankle gnawing and scratching with its hind legs, my thoughts wandered into dark places I wish to kick out the door.

Yesterday a young man was found dead, by his mother in their home, of an apparent drug overdose.  I have known this loving family since I was a rebellious teen.  This was the second drug overdose in less than a year for them.  Before judging, please understand the cousins were raised in “good” homes with parents who loved them unconditionally.  Tears flow from my heart as I try to offer them comfort.  I sincerely wish I could do more for them.

My father.  [deep breath]  The man I call Daddy is in the later stages of Alzheimer’s.  The disease has sent him tumbling down the ‘rabbit hole’ with a mighty shove.  Slowly, or quickly depending on whom you talk too, his capabilities to walk and function as an adult fade into the abyss; complete vulnerability behind his bright blue eyes.  One day last week he wakes up from one of his afternoon naps and miraculously he can walk and (kinda sorta, not really) is able to hold conversations with us.  This lasted for about five days.  You see the power surges, as we call them, never last for too long and is followed by a deeper descent into the ‘rabbit hole’.  Last night he passed out while standing and hit the floor like a tree falling in the forest – hard and with a loud thud.  Tears flow from my heart as I try offer assistance to help my mother.

Our family has endured the quick and unforeseen deaths, and the longest good-byes.  Neither is easy.  Age is of no consequence; the heartbreak is the same.  Healing takes time.  Love never fades, just shifts and evolved into something deeper.  Forgiveness transforms into an authentic action.  Hugs are tighter from those offering support.  A silent shoulder to lean on appears in the time of need.  Loneliness takes on a new role as life is altered in a single moment.  The true blessing is realizing that life is an amazing adventure.  And knowing – it’s okay to cry.

Please tell me how your life is…tell me tales of adventures…glorious sunsets you’ve watched from your front porch… share with me stories of your babies.  As my father told me, “Life goes on. Let it.”

Barely a Nibble

Well, the idea to write this evening bombed. The writing bug just didn’t bite hard enough. Boring, lifeless words thirsty for pizzazz limped their way on the page, dragging their pathetic little feet. I must admit the smears they’ve left behind do make an interesting pattern. Oh well. My pillow has been seducing me for the last half hour; is it too late for a nap?

Writing Begets Writing

I have been in search of my words.  Blocked, uninspired, tired and lack of motivation have kept me silent.  Who knew it would be possible?  I bet I know a handful of teachers who wouldn’t believe it.

On December 13, 2013, I officially completed the rough draft of a novel I started either June or July of 2006.  The first line struck me like a bolt of lightning!  I was driving on a country road headed to my best friend’s house when I channeled the words.  One hand on the steering wheel, the other scrambled to find a piece of paper and a pen from my purse.  The start of this story literally needed to be written down NOW or be lost forever.

Since I began my first novel, I have started three other stories, was a freelance writer, wrote newsletters for two local chamber of commences, wrote and self-published Get A Compass Not A Clock, been over-stressed, started and closed a business, and started another job.  I am wondering how I fell into this self-created rut where I currently reside.  I want to explore something other than going to work, going home, doing chores, going to bed, shutting off the alarm and doing it all again the next day.  Writing begets writing and encourages the desire to look outside of my box.

I will share with you my progress (or lack of), joyful moments, family, grandbabies, kayak trips, rants, recipes, along with a dash of sass.  There will be tugs on the heartstrings as I witness my mother go through the longest good-bye with her husband of 48 years.  Few things are as emotionally taxing than to have your father say, “You look familiar.  How do I know you?  I’ve known you for a long time, right?”

So this is a blog about me; about my adventure.