Dad used to say “You guys are going to be best friends one day.”

He usually said this when attempting to settle one of our fights in which I may have allegedly hit you over the head with the rake or when I supposedly shoveled dog poop into your leaf pile and made you pick it up with your bare hands.

As I remember it, these things may or may not have happened because you were bugging the shit out of me.

Dad would also say “Your friends will come and go, but your family will be there forever.”
He was right… You, Debbie and Jeff are some of my biggest blessings.

And now…here we are. You are [cough] 40, and I’m still trying to find ways to level the playing field. Knowing full well, this will never happen. You are nothing short of incredible, and they just don’t come better than you.

You are one of my most prized treasures, and you deserve all the blessings in the world.

Today, and every day, I celebrate you. Happy 40th Birthday to my sister, my best friend.
I love you sissy.

​There have been moments since our parents passed away I feel their presence more than others.  Sixteen months ago, when my beautiful nephew, Blake, was born I felt their presence so profoundly I could almost see them holding and kissing him before they passed him onto us.  
 
Today there were several little and big moments in which I know they were walking along side my siblings and I.  
 
Growing up both my parents worked, but despite working all week long our weekends were full of adventures. We snow skied in the winters.  We went camping and boating in the summers. Now that I’m older I can appreciate how much effort and energy it must have taken.  I recognized this even more as I watched my sister and brother in law pack up the car with their kiddos, the cooler, the life jackets, the diaper bag and then hitch the same boat you see in this picture to the back of their car. 
 
As we exited their neighborhood and drove down a steep hill we went over a small speed bump.  We suddenly heard a large crash and terrible scraping sound. The speed bump had dislodged the boat off of the hitch.   We were on a steep hill with no shoulder, but we had to stop.  The only thing preventing the boat from rolling down the hill ahead of us was the back of our car bumper and a chain. We were sooo lucky as this could have turned out very, very bad.  After about 30 minutes of diverting traffic and jimmying the boat, we were able to get the boat hooked back up and be on our way.
 
We arrived at the boat launch, and waited in line for our turn.  Birdy launched the boat and Kimmy turned the key only to find the battery was dead. Imagine having four cars waiting their turn to pull into your parking spot at Trader Joes or Costco and your battery won’t start.  Not only that, you are blocking traffic the entire time.  I was entertaining the kids and pretending I didn’t know them, but it seemed pretty stressful.  
 
It felt like today just wasn’t meant to happen, until a wonderful gentleman ran over and said we could have his battery.  He wouldn’t accept payment, wouldn’t give us his number, but only told us to have a blessed day and pay it forward.  
 
Throughout the day, as we jumped off the side of the boat to swim, Avery practiced somersaults and Blake giggled as he splashed around in the water, I thought of my parents.  I saw my parents when I watched Blake and Avery blissed out and sunkissed in the back of the boat.  I saw my mom in Kimmy as she was distracted by the thought of her lost sunglasses and her determination to find them.  Only difference between Kimmy and my mom, is my mom would have been way less cool about the events of the day, and had three extra pairs of sunglasses in the boat, just in case.  
 
I know it was because of my parents we were out on the water having a blessed day.

I can't say they were with us the entire day.  I'm pretty sure they left us to be with my brother, probably right around the time Kimmy jumped into the water with her sunglasses on her head.  Today Jeff competed in his 22nd Ironman Triathlon in Whistler  B.C.  An Ironman is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride and a 26.2 mile run.  (No big deal...)
 
I still remember Jeff’s very first triathlon. It was in California and was half of these distances. It also happened to be the weekend he was graduating college.  My parents were beside themselves, as they had no idea why anyone would want to do this, let alone the weekend you have a zillion other things happening.  I don’t remember the race in particular. However, I do remember how angry my mom was at Jeff because he got bike grease on the inside of our motorhome on the way to the race.  I was ten years old and I can still remember Diana’s fury.

My parents knew nothing of the sport, couldn’t understand why anyone would want to put their body through this, and yet they continued to cheer and support Jeff in his races over the years.  When Jeff qualified and competed in the Kona World Championship, my parents were there. My mom loved biking down to Dig Me Beach just so she could swim with all the triathletes.  My dad didn’t swim, bike or run.  Rather he let us laugh at him when he spilled brownies and frosting all down the front of his shirt at the athlete banquet.  I can still picture turning around seeing him walk next to all these fit athletes with a brownie stain the size of an apple on the front of his yellow polo shirt.  He also enjoyed embarrassing us all as he yelled “No Drafting” over and over again at a congested transition.  Drafting is when a biker will ride right behind another biker to save energy.  It’s illegal in the sport, but in this particular area it was unavoidable as the athletes were just mounting their bikes and had no choice.  My sister and I yelled at him….”Dad….stop!!”
 
Jeff not only competed in his 22nd Ironman today, he WON first place in his age group.  Some people will take 17 hours to finish, some won’t finish at all, but most of us never will attempt such a thing.  He finished in first place.  He was in 12th place exiting the swim, and through pure grit and determination took 1st place within one mile of the finish line. 
 
I know my parents were with Jeff cheering him on. 
 
I know they were with us on the water.  
 
I know we do what we do, and have what we have because of them.

Blessed day.  Blessed life.  Blessed family. Always present. 

Over the past week I have read many Facebook posts where someone has made claim to their ‘word’ for 2018.  It’s something to focus their intention on for the year to come, such as ‘courage’ or ‘strength’ or ‘balance’.  I’ve pondered over the last several days if I were to pick a word for this coming year what would it be. 

For 2017 my word would have been something along the lines of ‘up’ or ‘growth’ or ‘increase’.   To clarify, despite the frequent positive interpretation of those terms, just like with anything, too much of something isn’t always good.  Like, in my case, if it’s referring to the scale, my pant size or stress level they've all grown to levels beyond my satisfaction.  In the same breath, I can testify to some of the more positive aspects of how these words have applied to me over the past year.  My stress level is greater, because I'm earning more income working more hours.  Our vet bill has increased, because we've added a four legged member to our family.  Our home has grown by one with my daughter moving back in, thus my heart has expanded tenfold and my happiness has increased. 

Just as the pendulum swings, I’ve considered the word ‘down’ for 2018, but that has all kinds of negative connotation.  I’ve also tested ‘balance’.  As much as I let the words dance in my head, none of them stuck and I didn’t give it any more thought.  I decided maybe 2018 doesn’t need a word.

Today as I drifted off into a nap, the word ‘forgive’ appeared seemingly out of nowhere.  It floated around in my thoughts until I fell deep asleep.  My body has been tired.  I’ve been fighting the cold/flu going around.  I could have slept for hours, but awoke after 45 minutes as if shaken awake. I looked over at the clock and it said 2:19.  Earlier in the day I’d played with the idea of attending a yoga class that started at 3:00.  Half asleep I rolled out of bed, still not sure if this is what I wanted to do.  Got into my car and drove 25 minutes to the studio.   

The class was just what I needed, and it didn’t take me long to feel grateful I made it to practice.  As the class was nearing its end and I was laying on my mat, the song ‘Forgive’ by Trevor Hall played over the speakers.  I had forgotten about the word appearing in my semi- consciousness just hours before, until it once again made its presence.  Forgive. 

I don't believe I have any one transgression or person that needs to be forgiven.  But when I think about who I am, where I’ve come from and what I want, forgiveness speaks loudly.  The significance of this studio and this class was important,  and the intersection of that word at this point in time was incredible. 

I will be teaching in this studio this coming Tuesday.  I taught yoga for a couple years at a place I worked, but this will be the first time I am teaching at studio. A few weeks ago, in a moment of spontaneity and inspiration, I asked a dear friend if she could put me on the schedule to teach.  She graciously agreed and for weeks I have questioned if I have made the right decision.  The anxiety wakes me up in the morning.  The ache in my belly sits like a heavy weight as a reminder.  I am scared.  Fear leads to self-doubt.  Am I  good enough?  Am I worthy?

Early today I told myself I need to be forgiven for being imperfect   I must allow myself to make mistakes and it doesn't make me any less deserving.  I must forgive myself for not meeting other’s expectations of me.  

Having said all that, my word could also be permission.  I need to give myself permission to be me.  I am not perfect.  I do not have the quintessential yoga figure that inspires.  I am flawed. I am learning. I am me. 

I like the word forgive because it also implies letting go.  I need to let go of the transgressions I have held against myself.  I need to let go of the idea I need to be perfect at something before I should be allowed to explore my potential.  I need to let go of the idea I need to have a body type or years of experience to lead and inspire. 

Forgiveness.  Letting go.  Permission.   These words all vibrate within me. 
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I will move forward with these words paving my path and softening my falls when they happen.  I will lead with the knowledge that perfection is not inspiring.  It is vulnerability and love that connects us to one another.  
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So today, I will be vulnerable and say.  I am not perfect.  I will make mistakes.  I might disappoint.  But in the end, I will forgive.  

Less than twenty four hours ago I arrived home from a life changing experience in Costa Rica.  It was a yoga retreat with 21 other beautiful souls.  One of the important lessons I learned on this trip, is nothing happens by accident or coincidence.  If you put something out into the universe, consciously or not, it will deliver you something back with purpose and intention.

Since I have arrived home, I have been marinating in the memories, the lessons and the love from my new friendships. 

The day before I left, a question circulated among a group of us as to what we planned to take away from this retreat and implement into our everyday life.   At that point in time, I said I wasn’t sure.  My emotions and thoughts were in overload.  My new friend, Christina, suggested the first thing I should do was write.  So here I sit, not sure what I want to say, but I will write.  Write from what flows from my heart and without direction.

Several months ago my husband gave me a birthday present and told me I could choose one of four things.  One of the gifts was an experience, a week away just for myself.  It wasn’t but a few weeks later, this Costa Rica trip posted to my Facebook feed and it took all of a few minutes for me to decide this is what I wanted.  I was meant for this experience and it was meant for me.

Of the 21 other people on this trip, I only knew two.  One of those two people I had only seen a couple of times since we graduated high school almost 25 years ago.  Joining a group of strangers for a party, let alone a trip to another country, is way out of my comfort zone.  When you don’t feel confident or always comfortable in your own skin, you tend to keep your circles small.  I have spent much of my life feeling like I didn’t quite belong.  It is a hard thing to describe.   It’s like you are participating in events, but doing so within an invisible bubble.  You are present, but there are layers that keep you from feeling like you deserve to be there.  These layers have been manufactured from years of believing I wasn’t smart, funny, pretty, thin or ‘cool’ enough.  I know this is a load of bullshit, but the self-talk has been spoken for way too many years to be broken down easily by rationale or encouragement from other people. 

It only took a short time with my new travel companions to understand these layers may not stand the test of time over the next nine days.  I will forever remember the gestures of love and acceptance I received within even a few minutes of arriving at the airport.  

As the days passed and the experiences compounded, my heart strings began to connect to strangers one by one.    As our hearts opened and our vulnerabilities were shared, it became obvious we are a group of individuals who need to feel loved, accepted, forgiven and connected.  It is through these commonalities, a sense of belonging begins to grow and a community is forged.

Every day during this retreat we sandwiched yoga as a bookend to start and finish the day.  Our yoga practice did not just consist of asanas (yoga postures), but also included lessons and group exercises.  Some of which, were uncomfortable to say the least.  Have you ever stood face to face with someone, looked into their eyes for over a minute without saying anything?  When was the last time you just listened, without offering advice or words of comfort, but acknowledged what someone was saying with just your touch or your eyes?  Have you ever held your hand to the heart of a stranger and felt their heartbeat and breath connected to your own?  These experiences challenge ever layer you have built, and expose some of your deepest vulnerabilities. 

During one of the exercises we were asked to think of a phrase or a statement we felt we needed most at that point in time.  We were instructed to phrase it as if it was present and true.  When it was our turn, we stood in the middle of a group circle while everyone else pounded the floor with their hands.  As soon as the pounding stopped we said what we needed.  Statements such as “I am brave”.  In return the group would yell back “You are brave!!!”  When it was my turn I knew exactly what I needed to say and hear.  I was called to the middle of the circle and when the rumbling stopped, I said “I AM AMAZING!!”  I will forever remember the looks on my friend’s faces as they yelled back to me “YOU ARE AMAZING!!”  The memory of their faces will be a gift that keeps on giving for years to come.

On the very last day we concluded our trip by spending one minute each with the 21 other members of our tribe, holding hands and looking into the other person’s eyes without saying anything.  There were tears, smiles, laughter and a complete surrender of ourselves to that other person.   

As I looked into the eyes of my new friend Maya, I saw myself in the reflection of her pupils.  This was the only person in which this happened.  As I looked into her eyes, I could clearly recall her face as she had yelled back to me “YOU ARE AMAZING!”  

The universe does not create coincidences.  It delivers lessons and gifts.
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Without words adequate enough for my appreciation, I thank my new and old friends for creating a place of belonging, acceptance, forgiveness, healing and love.    It was not a coincident I was on this trip.  It was a gift I will cherish always.  

When my husband and I were driving to dinner this evening he excitedly clapped his hands together and said “Oh honey!!  I cannot WAIT for the next three years!!  Our house will be the way we want it and we will probably have our vacation home at the ocean.” 

We are in the process of a major home remodel.  Stage one will be done this year.  If all goes well, stage two will be done next year and then we can begin planning for a vacation home in Oregon.  And while I also have a lot of excitement around these same things, I instantly got a pit in my stomach.  I told him about the aching I had in my gut and what I believe to be the reasons why. 

My dad was diagnosed with cancer one year after he retired, and then my mom one year after my dad passed away.  Many years ago they purchased a lot of land in Chelan and worked tirelessly every free moment they had to build their dream home where one day they would retire.  To know how hard they worked throughout the years to only enjoy the fruits of their labor for a short time makes me sad.    The one counter thought that provides me comfort, is knowing that while they worked hard they also lived.  They didn’t wait until they retired to enjoy life.  Despite working long days Monday through Friday, every Saturday morning in the winter they packed our gear up into the school bus to ski Crystal Mountain.  When it was time to vacation they loaded suitcases in the back of the station wagon and drove across three states to take us to Disneyland.  Every summer they took us camping despite how much work and preparation it required. Eventually they began traveling the world.  And when they passed away they had hundreds of people fill the pews of the church because of the rich and meaningful friendships they built over the years.

I am thankful they didn’t WAIT out their long days and weeks at work until the day they retired to live.  I want to live life like that.
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My husband and I spent our dinner talking how their death relates to the pit in my stomach when he excitedly discussed what awaited us three years from now.  In that moment I could ascribe three things to that feeling. 

1. I feel an immense amount of pressure to feel happy and love my life in the current moment.  I am no longer able to just put my head down, work and tell myself this will all be worth it one day in the future.  Their death has made the little things carry so much more weight.  If I spend my days not doing what I love it feels like a waste.  I feel guilty napping and wasting a couple hours in the middle of the weekend.   It sounds like a good motto in theory, but it also puts the day to day moments of life under a microscope. 
2. Relationships are critical.  Friendships are important. I read that one of the top five regrets of people dying was, “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.”  I have important people in my life that I haven’t seen in weeks/months.  So when I miss lunch with a group of friends on Friday because I have a lot of work to do, it feels like a big letdown. 
3. The last one I mentioned feels pretty dark, and I know there are many people who will see it as fatalistic.  However, I know I’m not alone because my siblings have said they have felt the same way as I do.  For my entire life, until the day my dad took his last breath, I felt immune from true pain, suffering and loss.  When my dad died and then my mom, this illusion was shattered.  Now, sadly, it feels like it’s not a matter of IF something else will happen, it’s just a matter of when. 

 
So when my husband said he can’t wait for three years from now, my parent’s life and dreams flashed before my eyes.    I want to ensure I’m living life today and not for some day in the future.  This is entirely up to me.  I know this.  Which leaves me to end this blog with the other four ways in which the dying wished they’d lived their life:

•  I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
•  I wish I hadn't worked so hard.
• I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
• I wish I’d let myself be happier.

 
So now I need to pause.  Take a deep breath.  Acknowledge I can feel joy within every day of the week.  Find the courage to explore what I need to make that happen.  Be unafraid to advocate for myself if it’s not.  Let myself find happiness today, so I can feel excited for the added goodness that awaits.

Aside from working through the loss of a loved one, grief delivers several other side effects. 

Before you experience tragedy or loss, you are falsely lured into the idea you are immune.  However once you have been struck, your mindset changes from ‘if I lose someone I love’ to ‘it’s only a matter of time’.

Perhaps this is why I suffer from one of my side effects from grief...nightmares.  They don’t happen every night or even every week, but they have happened often enough.  The specifics of my nightmares are never the same, but the theme always is.  I dream of losing someone I love.  The pain and anguish causes me to cry out in my sleep until my husband softly rubs my arm or my back to wake me up. 

Saturday night I had one of these nightmares.  I had dreamt something happened to my son.  When I awoke I could not shake the feeling, and I could not fall back asleep until well after 2am.  For a long while, even though I was awake I could not stop crying.  The pain felt so real. 

The next morning I woke to my alarm feeling unrested and exhausted.  Although it was Sunday and I normally could have slept in, I wanted to wake early to see my son off before he drove back to school at Pullman.  He’d spent the last three weeks at home for his winter break.  On Sunday morning I watched him pile his bags into the already packed SUV of his best friend.  Austin and three of his buddies were driving back to their lives at Washington State University.

Today, I read in the news that my nightmare was the heartbreaking and unfortunate truth for two WSU families.  Two separate accidents, one on i90 and one on SR 26 took the lives of two young students. Between the hours of Saturday at midnight and Sunday at 5 pm there were over 150 accidents in the North Central Washington area.  The snow made the driving conditions treacherous.

All you need to do is google ‘Highway 26 WSU fatalities’ and you will see post after post of the dangers of that specific roadway.  State Route 26 runs 133.61 miles from I-90 east of Vantage, east to US 195 in Colfax.  This two lane highway is dangerous in clear and dry conditions as there are no passing lanes and drivers like to aggressively pass one another.  In snowy and icy conditions it is far more dangerous and deadly.  The common consensus online is something needs to be done to improve the dangers of that highway, but there seems to be little answers how to go about doing that.    

What normally would have taken my son five to six hours to travel from Redmond to Pullman, yesterday took him and his friends eight and a half hours.   

I sat at home last night in my sweats watching the Golden Globes with remnants of exhaustion from little sleep the night before.  Thankfully, I had been receiving texts throughout the day from my son’s best friend giving me updates on their travels.  I was finally blessed with a text at 5:30pm they had reached Pullman.

My heart is so grateful they arrived safely, but it is broken for the parents whose children did not.  I cannot stop thinking of the families who spent the last three weeks celebrating the holidays with their children only to say goodbye not realizing it was the last time.

My nightmare is the reality for those two families and the loved ones who lost more than anyone ever should. 

My heart is heavy.  Very heavy. 
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I ask you to pray for the healing of those who are suffering in the depth of their grief.  I also ask you to pray for answers.  How can we prevent more deadly tragedies from happening on a road that carries the beautiful hearts and hopeful futures of our children?

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I don’t remember exactly when or why I joined Facebook.  Frankly, I don’t even remember how I heard about it.  I do remember, however, my very first connection was with a dear friend from my childhood.  She and I had spent many days in elementary school hanging out and having slumber parties over at her house.  Her mom often times rented movies for us to watch and I think we must have watched our favorite movie, Breakfast Club, a dozen times together.

Over the years we lost touch and had not seen or spoken to each other since high school. ​Facebook gave me the gift of reconnecting not only with my dear friend, but with other people I had not seen in years.  My network on Facebook grew and grew, and it became a place for old friends to find each other once again. 

It was so wonderful to connect, see what’s happening in one another’s lives and share pictures of our adventures and families.  It became a hub of personal connection and shared experiences.

When my dad was sick and in the hospital I used Facebook as a source of comfort.  When he passed away I needed Facebook as a source of sympathy.  When my mom became sick, I used Facebook for the same reasons. I used Facebook to share the incredible story Evening Magazine featured on my mom.  Eventually, I used Facebook to announce she had passed away.  I sought empathy from my friends and family to help give me strength. 

Over the years Facebook evolved from one that served me well and gave me joy, to a place that left me feeling unhappy and unhealthy.

I am a self-professed people pleaser.  I continuously fight against this urge to determine my own self-worth based on how happy I have made someone else.  The feature of people being able to ‘like’ your post can be somewhat of a drug for someone like me. 

When both of my parents passed away and I was deep in grief, I used Facebook as a way to escape where I really was physically and emotionally.  I’ve used escapism in some form or another my entire life and Facebook had become the latest enabler for me to escape. 

I’m bored, I will escape.  I’m sad, I will escape.  I’m anxious, I will escape.  It became such an issue that sometimes I hit refresh every couple minutes. 

Frankly, after talking to several people, I know I am not alone.  But I didn’t even need to talk to others to see there so many people out there like me.  Just look at the people sitting in the waiting room or the customers standing in line at Chipotle.  Ninety percent will have their eleven pound head tipped forward.  In fact, there are studies that show our spines are slowly changing because of how we are holding our heads. 

I started to notice a correlation between my happiness and the time I spent on my phone, but just like any addict I could not stop.  Eventually I realized Facebook was no longer serving me in the way I had found joy in the beginning.  I accept that Facebook is valuable to many people and small businesses.  In no way am I trying to criticize how others like to utilize Facebook.  For months I’ve hidden and unfollowed people or posts I did not want to see. 

But it seemed there were more and more posts I did not want to see than posts I did.   I don’t want to see pictures of children or animals being mistreated.  I know it happens.  My husband and I donate to organizations that help the mistreated.    I don’t want to use Facebook for my news.  Every morning I read through credible news sources (if there is such a thing) to understand the current events.   There are now reports of false news circulating through Facebook.  I don’t want to be inundated with political propaganda and witness how it is dividing friendships and connections on Facebook. I am sick and tired of being inundated with all the advertising and marketing.  Lastly, I don’t want everyone to see what I ‘like’ and frankly, I don’t want to see what you ‘like’ either.  It’s nothing personal.  :)

All that crap was drowning out all the great stuff that drew me to Facebook in the first place, so I decided we needed a break. 

I want to work on being present and appreciating my current situation whatever that may be.   I need to work on being mindful with my emotions instead of escaping from them. 

I miss seeing the updates and pictures of my friends and family, I really do!!  But since I am a people pleasing escape addict, my happiness depended on me taking a break. 

If you want to connect you can give me a call or send me an email.  Many days you can find me on my mat, out for a run or at the dog park where I can’t help but feel happy.

Let's together pick our heads up.  Let’s talk.  Mostly, let's feel and share the love.

It was about 29 years ago when my brother picked me up at Chinook Middle School, and as we drove away we saw you walking.  I said “Hey!  That’s my friend Angela” so Jeff pulled over and offered you a ride home.  As we traveled along you gave Jeff directions to your house and I kept saying things like “Wow!  You walk this whole way home???  This is long ways!!!”  You responded with something like “It’s okay.  It’s not that far.”
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After we dropped you off and drove away Jeff scolded me for pointing out something that might have made you feel bad.  What Jeff nor I understood at that point in time, you have never been someone who has felt sorry for yourself.  You have always been someone who embraces life with curiosity, acceptance, grace and courage.  
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Last night as I was thinking about your birthday I tried to mentally prepare what I wanted to write in a Facebook post, but as the memories grew I knew a Facebook post would not adequately support the words that spilled from my heart.  Yes, we have memories.  Many of them.   I could fill pages and pages with all of my favorite memories.  But as I think about you, it’s not just about the memories.  It’s about all the ways in which I admire and love my dear friend, Angela.

​Our middle school days were full of sunny afternoons swimming in your pool. In high school we laced up our white leather Keds and stood hip to hip in the high kick drill team line.  Remember our freshman year drill performance at the state competition?  The one with the ladders.   Oh…I know.  How could anyone possibly forget?  What I remember the most, was how you held the corner of a second tier ladder in the palm of your hand.  A ladder had been misplaced and without your support, the pyramid of ladders would have collapsed.  Our drill team mate who stood on the top of the pyramid would have been seriously hurt.  This was you Ang.  This has always been you.  The girl who will cares so deeply for her friends, she will do almost anything to support them in their time of need. 

​After graduation we packed up our bags and walked through the cobblestone streets of Europe.  It was an adventure, a trip of a lifetime I will remember forever.  Shortly after our trip to Europe you laced up your combat boots and left for army boot camp.  I remember you telling me about the requirements and how it would help pay for school.  You approached it with logic and pragmatism, but mainly you faced it with a bravery I could only admire.  In my wildest dreams, I have NEVER had the level of the courage you do.

When you were finished with the army you traded your combat boots for high heels.  I began a family and we drifted in and out of contact over the years.  Every so often we’d pick up the phone and reconnect. It always felt like I was coming home when you and I talked, no matter how much time had passed.   

​On one particular phone call I vividly remember cleaning my daughter’s bedroom as we talked.  You told me about your dream to become a yoga teacher and own a studio.  I don’t think I even knew what downward facing dog was at that point in time, but I could hear it in your voice.  Your passion.  Your love.  You wanted to trade in your stilettos for bare feet and a yoga mat. 

And now, here you are.  Not only did you build your yoga studio, but you built you built a community, a place of love, acceptance, healing.   You used your strength, tenacity, creativity and courage to create a special place for so many.  You are a gift who keeps on giving.

How perfect is it that your birthday falls on the most contentious election day in our history?  I think it’s beautiful and the perfect juxtaposition. Our country feels divided by ugly rhetoric and negativity.  Yet, all I can think about is how we get to celebrate the birthday of someone who exemplifies acceptance, patience, understanding, curiosity, courage and love.  These are all the characteristics our fellow citizens will need in the coming years.

Thank you for being the friend who inspires me to be a better person.  You are my sister by choice.  You have and always will be my guiding light.  My home.
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Happy Birthday my beautiful friend.  

I’m sorry this post is so late.  I had to work most of the day to pay for my son’s college booze, I mean books.   When I awoke this morning my first thought was of Austin.  This is nothing new.  Most mornings I wake up my first thoughts are of my children. 

It’s hard to put into words how I feel on this incredibly special day.  Nineteen years sounds like a lifetime ago, but holding my son in my arms for the very first time feels like it was only yesterday.  He came into this world with a fierce temper and lungs the size of Texas.  Over the years the lungs quieted and the temper subdued.   But his heart….his heart continued to grow and it has been his guiding light ever since.   

When I look at my son I humbly ask myself “What have I done to deserve this amazing child?”  As a parent I cannot claim all the ownership over why he is so special.  It was part parenting, mainly God with some luck sprinkled in.  We’ve been blessed beyond measure by His gracious gift.

From the moment we become parents we begin our job of raising our children into being responsible adults who will positively make their mark in this world.  Right around their first birthday we start to ween them off the bottle and the pacifier.  Over the next couple birthdays we teach them how to feed and dress themselves.  Around five and six years old we begin by helping them do their homework, and then over the years we teach them ways in which they can manage it on their own.
  
They slept in our arms, moved to their cribs and eventually a bed of their own.  By sixteen we have taught them to drive a car until one day they drive away to begin the life you imagined the moment you heard their first heartbeat.

We instill life lessons regarding the value of money knowing one day they will need these skills to take care of their own families.  We try to remove most obstacles from their path, and only leave the ones that will teach them important lessons about struggle and consequences.  Within a very short span we have groomed our children to be independent beings who can survive and thrive on their own.

Self admittedly, sometimes as parents we forget to prepare ourselves how to let go. 

This was the first year my son was not with me on his birthday.  We face-timed and I learned all the ways in which he was celebrating his special day.  As much as I wish I could give him a birthday hug and cook him a birthday meal, I felt joy listening to him tell me about all the wonderful people in his life who made him feel loved today.  With a heart as big as his, I’m not surprised. 

This picture was taken on Austin’s first birthday.  I had attended class at Seattle University earlier in the day, but cut class early to bake a cake in our tiny Beacon Hill home for the party that night.  I worked part time and I was finishing up my senior year of classes.  Life felt busy and challenging. 

Regardless of the day to day struggle, I felt more joy in my heart than words can convey.  Our home was small, our budget was tight but my purpose was clear.  Raise this boy with all the love I have in my heart and it will take him to the places only a parent can dream of.
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This second picture was taken the day we dropped him off at college.  Holding close and letting go all at the same time. 

This is the story of a mother and her son. A mother who couldn’t be more proud of the 19 year old boy who has given her life so much purpose.  

Happy Birthday Texas. 

I’ve thought a lot about this topic. The ideas of what I want to write present themselves, and then I get lost in all the intricacies and complications of trying to generalize depression.

I decided if I am to write a blog it needs to be based upon my own personal experience. If you read the rest of this piece, then read it with that caveat in mind.

I’ve learned a lot about depression over the past couple years. For one, I’ve learned it has many faces. It does not always look like the person in the commercials who sits in a dark room with shades drawn and tears running down their cheeks. It is true, it can present itself in the form of melancholy, lethargy and glumness. It can also leave you feeling uninspired, unmotivated and drowning in a feeling of hopelessness.

Sometimes, however, it can be masked in a facade of smiles. It may allow for enough energy to fake your way through the necessary parts of your day, but leave you with nothing left in the tank to do much else. If you are a high functioning depressive you might keep yourself busy at all times to keep the dark feelings at bay.

When you think of depression be aware. It may not always look like what you think it should.

Depression can be situational, but it doesn’t always have to be. You may feel sad because something traumatic has happened in your life. An important relationship ended, your health changed, you lost your job, you lost someone you loved; these are all emotional and life altering events that can contribute to feelings of despair. But many times, depression might find its way in without any sort of invitation.

There are people in the world who have suffered greatly, but have found a way to live happily. In contrast, there are others who live a privileged life with an abundance of blessings, but feel dejected. Several years ago my nephew, who comes from a blessed upper class upbringing, traveled to a third world country to volunteer at a children’s camp. I remember he wrote home and could not believe how this part of the world lived. What made the biggest impression were the children who had no shoes and sometimes no pants, but were the happiest children he had ever met. There are individuals in this world whose situation seems like justifiable reasons to be sad and yet they are not. And then sometimes we have no obvious reasons to feel disheartened, but we do.

This brings me to my next point about depression. It is not a mind over matter situation. My husband once told me “You cannot think your way out of depression.” It is not about emotional strength or intelligence. Many uninformed people believe if you are depressed it is simply because you refuse to look at the bright side.

Anyone who knows me and my personal situation knows I’ve had several legitimate reasons over the past couple years to feel unhappy. They also know I’ve done my best to find the positive in any given situation.

I’ve let myself grieve and feel sad when the feelings arise, but I’ve also tried to look at the ‘bright side.’
I don’t succumb easily and allow myself to wallow for too long in my sadness. I fight it every step of the way. I acknowledge my blessings. I run to gain endorphins. I practice yoga to find peace and strength. I eat healthy. I take care of myself. Yet, it might not always be enough. If mind over matter were a solution I would have saved myself many days of pure and utter sadness.

I know what joy feels like, and when I cannot find it despite how hard I try, I acknowledge I cannot solve this alone.

Therapy. I’ve went for years. I go to therapy when everything in life is in harmony and I feel fantastic. I go to therapy when I need to work out specific issues. I go to therapy when I need empathy. I go to therapy because it has helped me work through issues of divorce, mixed families, job changes, illness, grief and more. We see dentists for our teeth and doctors for our bodies. Why is it so difficult to admit we want to see someone for our emotional health?

Therapy can be an invaluable tool and a saving grace. Even then, it cannot always independently solve the problem of ‘why do I feel depressed.’

So if it isn’t always situational, a mind over matter problem or in issue to be solved by talking it through, what else could it be?

Sometimes depression is chemical. Sometimes it is hormonal. Sometimes the neurons aren’t firing and we cannot fix it with therapy, exercise and positive thinking. Maybe we need vitamins or supplements. Maybe we need to change birth control. Perhaps we are deficient of a necessary mineral in our body, like Vitamin D. Our thyroid might not be operating effectively. Our hormones might be out of whack.

Sometimes our depression is a symptom of something happening within our cells, not our thoughts.
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So if you are still reading this and you have struggled with feeling dejected, disheartened and sad please know there is hope. If I have not addressed your specific feelings, it is only because I am writing from my place of understanding.

And my journey has taught me if you are feeling depressed, see a therapist, get a THOROUGH blood panel done, ask for help and know you are not alone.

The sun rises and sets, and with each new day brings hope. You bring beauty to this world. You were put on this earth for a specific reason. You have changed someone’s life in some special way. You are needed. You are loved.

I do want you to know, personally I am in a good place. Otherwise, the apathy that plagued me in the last couple months would have prevented me from writing a piece like this. Like most people, I go through times I feel depressed, but I have all the appropriate resources in place when I do. I know when I feel sad and I know there are things I can do to improve my mood. I take the appropriate measures to feel better. I talk to my husband. I see my therapist. I have blood drawn by my doctor.

As I had predicted, a few weeks ago my labs told a story and explained why I felt the way I did. My hormone and thyroid levels were off and no matter how much I tried to think ‘positively’ and no matter how hard I tried to work through my depression with sheer will and grit, it was a battle I could not win alone.

I wrote this piece because my struggles have always taught me my best lessons. But mainly I wrote this piece to let those who’ve ever suffered from depression, you are never alone.


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National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 800-273-8255