Coffee is hot, big lazyboy chair is comfy, Christmas book is open- half read, kids are all sleeping in, candles are lit, holiday cookies are on the counter, music plays Christmas songs, yes its Christmas Eve.
And, for the first time in 33 years, I am not "home" for Christmas.
Four months ago, my husband and I moved our family to Dickinson, North Dakota. And, we decided that we will enjoy a quiet Christmas at our home here in our new town.
I will be honest with you, it feels weird. I have sat with myself all week, thinking of this decision.
And, my brain keeps playing tricks with me, thinking of all the "things" I have forgotten to do for Christmas. Because, truth is- I never would have had the time (or made the time) back home to sit and type a heartfelt message, much less to sit and read a Christmas book, further more-to dig deep and find the Christmas inside of me.
See, Christmas back home, well...its busy. Or, lets be honest, I made it busy.
Numerous parties, Christmas concerts, family get togethers, and humbly say, by the time I dolled myself up, and made the cookie tray, and bowl of noodle salad, I would collapse in the van, tired and usually crabby. (somehow the holidays always brought that out for me). So, as we drove to our party destination, I would unconsciously crab about nothing important, and as the vehicle would come to a stop, I would plant one of those fake smiles on my face.
My kids, would look at me all confusingly, I mean I get it, Honestly?! How can someone go from hollering overwhelming accusations to hugging, smiling, welcoming Christmas love- in a bout 2.2 seconds?
That's all I can say about that is, well, it takes talent.
And dear children- if you are reading this, I am truly sorry. I hope you know, all those years, it was never you, not running quick enough to the van, or the salad flopping, the shirt that didn't fit right but your mom- not knowing her boundaries with her voice. I do, love you all to the moon and back.
And, I am sorry, for not teaching you the true meaning of Christmas. You see, Christmas is about LOVE. And, you are the people GOD gave me, to LOVE unconditionally.
So, this year- well I told myself, that whatever I do for Christmas, needs to be with LOVE.
The extra hours at work, the numerous trips to Walmart, the few favorite cookies the family and I made, the wrapping of the presents, I had to consciously think "LOVE".
And, when I did that, well Christmas was, everywhere.
The yummy smelling lotion I got from my boss, the Merry Christmas's heard back from the Walmart stranger, the tape that the neighbor had for me to borrow to wrap presents, the cookies I got to share with friends, Its all LOVE.
So, know matter if you are alone in a new town, or surrounded by all your extended families- feel the LOVE all around you.
For, all we truly all need is LOVE, and then everyday could be Christmas...
Wishing you all a peaceful day, wherever you are.
Let it be, Christmas!
xxoo
Michelle, the girl who is leaning to run with dresses on..
And, lastly... A big humble thankyou, to all of you. The love, the support, the feeling I get from your likes and comments, I am truly grateful! Heres to a big open hearted peaceful Christmas to all of you!
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Monday, December 15, 2014
Love yourself and your Grandmas!
One of my first memories of my Grandma "P" (its what I called her) is watching her with my light blue eyes wheel around the kitchen in a big silver and black wheelchair, stirring the corn on the stove, slicing the bread, and pouring the homemade applesauce with one hand, after church right before family Sunday dinner.
You see my Grandma suffered a severe stroke when she was in her 50's and it left her in a wheelchair, only having full strength on one side.
Back to the Sunday dinner day, I remember just staring at her in the opening of the kitchen next to the pantry door (that stored many different cans of delicious pickles) amazed. I was one f the grandkids that didn't live in the area. We drove a couple hours up north around once a month to see family, attend church, and visit friends.
So, until I was twelve and we made the move, way up north....that's the memory that sticks.
And, when I had settled into a new town, well my cousin and I used to spent weekends making memories at that home, in that kitchen- helping Grandma bake, clean, iron( I got fired from that job real fast) and just simply be, Grandmas hands.
The memories, where do I start?
Grandmas house well, she truly didn't care when we went to bed. So, us girls, well we would stay up late, watching movies and giggling on the green pullout couch.
And just as our eyes would close, we would hear her, wheeling into the kitchen making herself some coffee, and reading the paper with one hand, (using that one good hand quickly to punch out the inside of the paper and then to grab a hold of the end) Looking back now,
how did she do it?! I can't even read a paper and drink a cup of coffee with 2 hands without making a sloshy mess.
Okay moving on,
So, we would get up, and eat some breakfast mostly her own recipe of nisua, (a homemade finnish bread). Sometimes we would eat the whole loaf, toasting the bread to perfection and basting it with butter.
About butter Grandma always said, "bake with love and extra butter"...
Grandma also taught me how to make cookies, chocolate chip and peanut butter. And when the first batch came out of the oven looking like soup, she quietly reassured me that almost every cookie needs flour.
Then there were the stories of her intuition. Grandma well she had it. She knew when her lip was itchy Grandpa was on the way home from a fishing trip, and sure enough Grandpa would be showing up in the doorway, soon later.
She knew when you were telling a lie, when you had a crush on a boy, when you had something on your mind, and as a teenager I thought ....part of Grandma was a, well, witch.
If it was our visits, our out to eats, our list of jobs for a weekend cleaning, either way- we knew it would never be dull. And the weekends, years flew by, from then on.
Then I got my license, and the weekends stopped. Before I knew it I was married, had babies, attending nursing school, life moved forward.
Grandpa died in 2001 and soon later Grandma ended up in a nursing home.
They say she suffered numerous small strokes in the years that followed. Before I knew it, Grandma wasn't talking much at all. She wasn't giving advice or telling me her intuition.
And, to be honest with you, it hurt to go visit her. One time I remember giving her the lecture at being one of the strongest women I knew, and she had such fighting sisu (a Finish word definition: courage, guts, strength) and, what was happening to her?!
And, then another time putting my head in her lap, and just crying like a baby. Crying for what was, and had been, and what the reality was, then.
It felt like a blink of an eye later, it was the winter of 2014, and Grandma was, dying.
I was a nurse, I had taken a healing touch class, and there wasn't no other place I wanted to be, was by her side, as the dying process started.
And she (like a Grandma) gave me all what I needed. She let me work on her with my healing touch and essential oils. She who talked so rarely spoke the words so loud and clearly, "I love you" when I needed it. One day I came into her room to her saying, "where have you been?"
One night my cousin and I (the same one that years ago shared the green pullout couch together) spent the night laying next to her in the single hospital bed, reminiscing about all the memories.
After the clock ticked twelve on the red full moon night in April, right before Easter,Grandma went on to everlasting life.
And, it changed me.
Looking back now, I see, I had gotten so good at being with family, (Grandmas dying process, was a couple months) that I had forgotten about me.
I was so worried, about how my dad was doing, (now an orphan after losing both parents) my aunts, uncles, cousins, I knew they would all be struggling, grieving, and I thought I could help!
You see, I am blessed with intuition, I have those lovely essential oils, and hands that could help aide.
But meanwhile back home, my people, my kids, well they were needing a mom.
All 3 of my kids were going through a hard time, and there mom, me, I was absent. Don't get me wrong, I was home some, just lost in my thoughts, in my past, in grief.
Let me stop here and say this. There is no blame, nor anger looking back at this time. I chose, to spend my time with my Grandma and family. I know for me it was right at that time. I also know I also willingly focused on the grief of my cousins, uncles, aunts, fathers, siblings-not because they asked me to, but because I chose to.
About butter Grandma always said, "bake with love and extra butter"...
Grandma also taught me how to make cookies, chocolate chip and peanut butter. And when the first batch came out of the oven looking like soup, she quietly reassured me that almost every cookie needs flour.
Then there were the stories of her intuition. Grandma well she had it. She knew when her lip was itchy Grandpa was on the way home from a fishing trip, and sure enough Grandpa would be showing up in the doorway, soon later.
She knew when you were telling a lie, when you had a crush on a boy, when you had something on your mind, and as a teenager I thought ....part of Grandma was a, well, witch.
If it was our visits, our out to eats, our list of jobs for a weekend cleaning, either way- we knew it would never be dull. And the weekends, years flew by, from then on.
Then I got my license, and the weekends stopped. Before I knew it I was married, had babies, attending nursing school, life moved forward.
Grandpa died in 2001 and soon later Grandma ended up in a nursing home.
They say she suffered numerous small strokes in the years that followed. Before I knew it, Grandma wasn't talking much at all. She wasn't giving advice or telling me her intuition.
And, to be honest with you, it hurt to go visit her. One time I remember giving her the lecture at being one of the strongest women I knew, and she had such fighting sisu (a Finish word definition: courage, guts, strength) and, what was happening to her?!
And, then another time putting my head in her lap, and just crying like a baby. Crying for what was, and had been, and what the reality was, then.
It felt like a blink of an eye later, it was the winter of 2014, and Grandma was, dying.
I was a nurse, I had taken a healing touch class, and there wasn't no other place I wanted to be, was by her side, as the dying process started.
And she (like a Grandma) gave me all what I needed. She let me work on her with my healing touch and essential oils. She who talked so rarely spoke the words so loud and clearly, "I love you" when I needed it. One day I came into her room to her saying, "where have you been?"
One night my cousin and I (the same one that years ago shared the green pullout couch together) spent the night laying next to her in the single hospital bed, reminiscing about all the memories.
After the clock ticked twelve on the red full moon night in April, right before Easter,Grandma went on to everlasting life.
And, it changed me.
Looking back now, I see, I had gotten so good at being with family, (Grandmas dying process, was a couple months) that I had forgotten about me.
I was so worried, about how my dad was doing, (now an orphan after losing both parents) my aunts, uncles, cousins, I knew they would all be struggling, grieving, and I thought I could help!
You see, I am blessed with intuition, I have those lovely essential oils, and hands that could help aide.
But meanwhile back home, my people, my kids, well they were needing a mom.
All 3 of my kids were going through a hard time, and there mom, me, I was absent. Don't get me wrong, I was home some, just lost in my thoughts, in my past, in grief.
Let me stop here and say this. There is no blame, nor anger looking back at this time. I chose, to spend my time with my Grandma and family. I know for me it was right at that time. I also know I also willingly focused on the grief of my cousins, uncles, aunts, fathers, siblings-not because they asked me to, but because I chose to.
Let me also say this. I know my kids need to learn lessons on there own. One of my biggest lessons in life as a momma is not to be a "helicopter" mom. You know the mom that swoops in and helps take all the bad away. Not truly having your kids own there own actions. Yes that's me, and I'm working daily on a happy medium..But, that my friends- well is another blog post.
You see its always been easier for me to focus on other people and there sadness. I mean, who wants to look in the mirror and dig deep?
So, I spent a couple days, just quiet, alone in my thoughts.
And, as I juggled being a mom, being present, and a funeral, time moved on.
Family went home, people went back to work, and life happened.
But, for me well, life stopped.
I tried explaining to a few people how I felt changed, how I felt different. Where my thoughts were, what I was doing, and well...the words didn't come out right, looking back they weren't spoken with love.
And, I found myself feeling empty.
Empty to the point of not caring at all about life. I laid in bed, fetal position. I ate, icecream by the tubs. I just didn't give a damn about anything. Bring it on world, life or death. I didn't care. You see after 33 years and watching my Grandma die I finally could say, I wasn't afraid at all.
And, as I juggled being a mom, being present, and a funeral, time moved on.
Family went home, people went back to work, and life happened.
But, for me well, life stopped.
I tried explaining to a few people how I felt changed, how I felt different. Where my thoughts were, what I was doing, and well...the words didn't come out right, looking back they weren't spoken with love.
And, I found myself feeling empty.
Empty to the point of not caring at all about life. I laid in bed, fetal position. I ate, icecream by the tubs. I just didn't give a damn about anything. Bring it on world, life or death. I didn't care. You see after 33 years and watching my Grandma die I finally could say, I wasn't afraid at all.
So after spending a few days in bed, stuck, with smelly hair and pajamas stuck crusted on......I pondered...Who am I?! What is my purpose?! Who cares?!
I finally, reached out, to a soul friend for help, it was time for me to care about me.
You see, I always thought putting me first was selfish. My mantra was what could I do to be a better, mom, sister, friend, wife, daughter, etc?
That same soul friend I reached out to would always tell me," first for yourself and then for others, Michelle". "Then its win, win". I would quietly yeh, yeh, her.
But, at this time, Grandma's death, I finally starting truly believing this.
First, I am me. I have no super powers. So, I knew that life will go on and be in my extended family. I couldn't control or change any of what is.
I also know I needed to take the steps, to make it great for me.
And, that's by, making many changes. Some, I will write about in future posts.
Some, I don't even know yet.
But, what I do know, is that Grandma of mine, well she gave me her sisu, and with that I am finding the girl who loved to run with dresses on....
Till next time friends,
Love yourself, and your Grandmas!
xxoo
Michelle
Xoxoxo RIP Grandma P.
Friday, December 12, 2014
The talk on tonsils...
I brought my brothers tonsils to school in 3rd grade, and pretended they were mine.
My only brother was sick, tonsillitis, and had to have surgery to have them removed, and I remember everything.
My only brother was sick, tonsillitis, and had to have surgery to have them removed, and I remember everything.
Him going to the hospital, and coming home with a glass jar of some whitish, moldish, looking molecules in it. The couch being his new home, the tv being his favorite shows, the red popsicles and cookies and cream icecream being his meals.
And, I was jealous. The cards, balloons, notes, would come for him, and I wished/prayed for my tonsils to get that tonsillitis thing, so I could have some fame. I could take a little pain. My body didn't care. How cool, to be able to have mom and dad all to yourself, family and friends sending you loving thoughts, and DONT forget the icecream!
So, I tried, getting a little of that fame, and woke up early one morning, and stole the glass, fungus looking bottle and brought it to school. I think at that point in time, I was thinking....of the neighbor girl who broke her arm, and everyone signed her cast?! I wonder if my friends, could sign my brothers tonsil jar. And, I
And, I was jealous. The cards, balloons, notes, would come for him, and I wished/prayed for my tonsils to get that tonsillitis thing, so I could have some fame. I could take a little pain. My body didn't care. How cool, to be able to have mom and dad all to yourself, family and friends sending you loving thoughts, and DONT forget the icecream!
So, I tried, getting a little of that fame, and woke up early one morning, and stole the glass, fungus looking bottle and brought it to school. I think at that point in time, I was thinking....of the neighbor girl who broke her arm, and everyone signed her cast?! I wonder if my friends, could sign my brothers tonsil jar. And, I
could pretend....the moldy white looking things, were mine...
I had it all figured out, I would talk like I had laryngitis, and over the weekend ta da, I had my tonsils removed!
And, as I was holding the tonsil jar and whispering my story (laryngitis remember)
I got, caught.
There was a teacher (Mrs. Zanon?) that took me aside and informed me, about white lies. I remember my face getting red, and stuttering out an apology.
I wish I could say, I was the sister that stood beside his bed, and helped nurse his healing with a big glass full of kool-aid with a bright straw in it.
But, that isn't me.
I wanted attention, darn it.
I know I was a kid. I know I've grown (FYI my tonsils are still back there in that mouth I call mine), but the point of me writing this, saying this story, is this.....
I wish I could say, I was the sister that stood beside his bed, and helped nurse his healing with a big glass full of kool-aid with a bright straw in it.
But, that isn't me.
I wanted attention, darn it.
I know I was a kid. I know I've grown (FYI my tonsils are still back there in that mouth I call mine), but the point of me writing this, saying this story, is this.....
I have a big family, I am blessed with many that love me. Along with a family life has brought me friends, in which I truly am grateful for.
And, I get to work with people and take care of them daily as a nurse. I've taken care of brand new hours old babies, and end of life with there last few breaths elders.
One thing I have seen, is we all want - a little more love and attention, darnit.
The dying man to tell his last stories, the baby crying- to be held, touched, loved. The quiet middle aged women shopping at the local grocery store, the homeless man on the street, or the 3rd grader who brings a jar of tonsils to school.
So, let's love all our neighbors, people. Say hi, give a hand, look at a jar of moldy looking molecules for that grade student.
Let's use these mouths, pharynxs, teeth, larynxs, tonsils, to give attention, to spread a little more love.....
Xxoo
Michelle
The girl who is learning to run with dresses on.
ps. I love you brother Dave, where is that moldy looking jar anyway?!:)
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Taking the Cami off...
Hello friends, Long time no words! Let me explain...
When I get dressed in the morning, I put many layers on. You see, I start with the undergarments , then the camisole ( you know the tummy tucking ones) then sometimes the short sleeve, and finally the long sweater that covers. Before walking out the door, I finish it off with a slimming jacket, with some kind of scarf and hat accessory, and va la, Michelles ready.
And, sometimes, while trying to bend down with the too tight jeans and camisole creeping up my back I feel like a stuffed animal, with the cotton starting to come out.
Summer, is hard. Because, lets be honest, layers are warm! So, at times I go without the camisole, or live without the sweater, and I feel....naked..
I will never forget my dear big sister years ago, before jumping in the hot finish sauna- threatened to cover my body in big hearts with a bright red sharpie. "Love your body" was her mission for me. At that point in my life, I was post baby x3, post abdominal surgeries, and my belly looked like some kind of connect the dots Dora the Explorer map, from all the surgical scars and stretch mark trauma.
I hear you, I get it, our body is our temple, love and thank it for serving you- I am trying, daily.
And, still today- I need to remind myself (sometimes faking it to make it) that my body is for me. That I can wear one less layer, that I can be seen....
So, I took the November month off of writing. Funny, I wrote, the check out to Walmart, a few pages in my journal, but I took the month off of visible writing, on this blog.
I spent a long weekend back home in the northern part of Michigan back in October and I heard from a few local natives that they have read my blog. Then, I found a computer guy (thanks Zack) to help me update this blog thing. And, finally I came back to quiet North Dakota and heard of a few that had passed by my blog- so I quit writing.
Don't get me wrong, I write for me, and I write for you. I write because it makes me shi$ my pants and smile at the same time.
But, I promised myself when I wrote, it would be real. Honest, my life, my truth, my words- for me first, and then for anyone who feels called to read.
So, I spent the month of November trying to decide how visible I wanted to be. Because, you see writing is not for me when I need to sensor myself.
And, the last posts, well they have been real, they have been me, my life- wide open.
Then, I spent some time with myself wondering how people felt. Do they think I am a drama queen? Am I being too emotional? They must think I am fat!? Do they think I want attention? They probably think I am too sensitive.....My mind, my ego- well it just had a party with all these questions and thoughts.
So, today at this moment I decided I am all of these. I am a queen, I love being treated well. I love attention. I love talking to people. I am emotional, I have always been known to "wear my heart on my sleeve", and finally today I am saying, its one of my best qualities. I am a big girl. And, yes, I am sensitive- I feel, lots.
I have spent my whole life, trying to change who I have always been. The layers, are coming off. I chose me, I chose visible.
Till next time dear friends, Take the cami off!
Sending Love Always, Michelle- the girl who is learning to run with dresses on.
When I get dressed in the morning, I put many layers on. You see, I start with the undergarments , then the camisole ( you know the tummy tucking ones) then sometimes the short sleeve, and finally the long sweater that covers. Before walking out the door, I finish it off with a slimming jacket, with some kind of scarf and hat accessory, and va la, Michelles ready.
And, sometimes, while trying to bend down with the too tight jeans and camisole creeping up my back I feel like a stuffed animal, with the cotton starting to come out.
Summer, is hard. Because, lets be honest, layers are warm! So, at times I go without the camisole, or live without the sweater, and I feel....naked..
I will never forget my dear big sister years ago, before jumping in the hot finish sauna- threatened to cover my body in big hearts with a bright red sharpie. "Love your body" was her mission for me. At that point in my life, I was post baby x3, post abdominal surgeries, and my belly looked like some kind of connect the dots Dora the Explorer map, from all the surgical scars and stretch mark trauma.
I hear you, I get it, our body is our temple, love and thank it for serving you- I am trying, daily.
And, still today- I need to remind myself (sometimes faking it to make it) that my body is for me. That I can wear one less layer, that I can be seen....
So, I took the November month off of writing. Funny, I wrote, the check out to Walmart, a few pages in my journal, but I took the month off of visible writing, on this blog.
I spent a long weekend back home in the northern part of Michigan back in October and I heard from a few local natives that they have read my blog. Then, I found a computer guy (thanks Zack) to help me update this blog thing. And, finally I came back to quiet North Dakota and heard of a few that had passed by my blog- so I quit writing.
Don't get me wrong, I write for me, and I write for you. I write because it makes me shi$ my pants and smile at the same time.
But, I promised myself when I wrote, it would be real. Honest, my life, my truth, my words- for me first, and then for anyone who feels called to read.
So, I spent the month of November trying to decide how visible I wanted to be. Because, you see writing is not for me when I need to sensor myself.
And, the last posts, well they have been real, they have been me, my life- wide open.
Then, I spent some time with myself wondering how people felt. Do they think I am a drama queen? Am I being too emotional? They must think I am fat!? Do they think I want attention? They probably think I am too sensitive.....My mind, my ego- well it just had a party with all these questions and thoughts.
So, today at this moment I decided I am all of these. I am a queen, I love being treated well. I love attention. I love talking to people. I am emotional, I have always been known to "wear my heart on my sleeve", and finally today I am saying, its one of my best qualities. I am a big girl. And, yes, I am sensitive- I feel, lots.
I have spent my whole life, trying to change who I have always been. The layers, are coming off. I chose me, I chose visible.
Till next time dear friends, Take the cami off!
Sending Love Always, Michelle- the girl who is learning to run with dresses on.
Monday, October 27, 2014
My junior high heartache.
READERS, looking back at this time is hard, but healing. I am writing this not for anyone to feel bad, for not being there, or even the bullying. At times I wasn't a nice person myself, too.
This, its truly my story of my past, and today gives me strength of how far I have come.
I have always looked for love on the outside, to fill me up within. This is another lesson life gave me on finding my love first inside, for me.
I am writing this for the one who cries themselves to sleep at night, for the one who is being teased, or who feels alone. And this is what I say to them. "sweetheart, this is big, you are not alone, you are strong"
I am the first to say, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. And truthfully, they knew something I didn't know about me because I do love water, and I have a great inner peace when I am around it.
Lets all try to be kinder, nicer, more loving. Please feel free to SHARE my words, my blog with anyone who you feel called to. And, if there is one person out there that needed to hear my words, my story, to know they are not alone well then-
I did my job.
Till next time,
-the girl who is learning to run with dresses on, Michelle
In 7th grade I was bullied, my name was Shamoo..... the whale.
I was new to the school, having only lived in the new northern upper peninsula town for less than a year, and I was trying to find my way.
I still remember sitting in environmental science class, with my red stretch pants and white guess sweatshirt, watching a movie on amphibians. There was a whale, it was huge, and people thought we looked alike.
I don't remember who came up with the whole whale nickname part, I just remember hearing it-everywhere I went. There was a certain way they would say it, powerful, loud, cutting, to my heart.
I would hear it everywhere, snickers, whispers from behind me in class. Then, between classes in the hallway loud, shouting "SHAMOO, go back to the ocean!"
At times, I would purposely get tripped climbing the many of stairs in the school. There comments would be, "quit walking shamoo, start by swimming back in the ocean- you big whale".
I felt like it was the whole grade teasing me, bullying me. Looking back it wasn't. There were a few of them, that never said anything, they would just look at me with the "I'm sorry" eyes.
Truthfully, I thought it was my fault. I wasn't being nice enough. I thought that I needed to try better at meeting new friends in this foreign town.
So I tried harder. I remember Valentines day saving my money to buy them all individual cards with candies. You see I thought I could buy there acceptance. I found out at the end of the day when the valentines ended up torn to shreds in my locker, that that wasn't so.
My locker was also the place where they would post pictures of whales. Many a day, I would come in and find yet another picture taped to my locker of "Shamoo".
Looking back, I was big. Like I said in previous posts, I have been big my whole life.
Back then, I just didn't have a big voice.
I would quietly whisper my bullying to the lunch lady during recess. You see, she was safe, I didn't even think about going to hang out where the rest of the class was. As she was selling her chips and candy to the kids, she would gently hug me, and whisper encouraging words back, reassuring me she was always there to talk to.
(Thankyou, Judy, I love you)
I remember faking sick, often. Knowing, I didn't have it in me to hear another word, or fight another day. It was true my belly hurt, just not in a contagious way.
Then when my mom caught on, I finally confessed and told her the stories of Shamoo the whale. You see, I didn't want to. I wanted to pretend to her that my new school was okay, the people who she told me to hang out with, were nice. And, I was worried at that point that, it wasn't a big deal and was just being a tattle tale.
So, the ring leaders parents were called. I begged, pleaded, with my mom not to call her parents, but she felt like it would get better if parents were involved. (I understand now as a parent) A few minutes later the mom and ring leader showed up. The girl apologized, in a heartfelt way, and I went to bed that night with hope for brighter 7th grade days ahead.
It got worse.
I was known as the tattle tale, the baby, and the whale.
I started hanging out with a different older crew. I started smoking on my lunch breaks. I would pretend not to hear them, like a tough shell covered me. When I was getting pushed, and poked, getting hollered at SHAMOO, I pretended not to hear, listen, or feel.
But, at night, under my covers alone, I would cry. I would scream for my voice, for love. I would hate myself, for not giving a damn, for not sticking up for me. And as I would lay there, I would contemplate, dying. I would wonder how many ibuprofren pills I would need to swallow, before my body would shut down. I would pray for death.
I cant say to this day when the bullying died down. I just know I survived. The love from the sweetheart lunch lady Judy helped. I also had a dear friend (from the hometown we moved from) that would send me tapes of her voice, giving me strength. It seems now, when I pretended not to care, not to show any emotion, it got better, the bullying got to be less. I was also glad to see summer vacation that year.
In 8th grade, I was numb- but not Shamoo.
This, its truly my story of my past, and today gives me strength of how far I have come.
I have always looked for love on the outside, to fill me up within. This is another lesson life gave me on finding my love first inside, for me.
I am writing this for the one who cries themselves to sleep at night, for the one who is being teased, or who feels alone. And this is what I say to them. "sweetheart, this is big, you are not alone, you are strong"
I am the first to say, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. And truthfully, they knew something I didn't know about me because I do love water, and I have a great inner peace when I am around it.
Lets all try to be kinder, nicer, more loving. Please feel free to SHARE my words, my blog with anyone who you feel called to. And, if there is one person out there that needed to hear my words, my story, to know they are not alone well then-
I did my job.
Till next time,
-the girl who is learning to run with dresses on, Michelle
In 7th grade I was bullied, my name was Shamoo..... the whale.
I was new to the school, having only lived in the new northern upper peninsula town for less than a year, and I was trying to find my way.
I still remember sitting in environmental science class, with my red stretch pants and white guess sweatshirt, watching a movie on amphibians. There was a whale, it was huge, and people thought we looked alike.
I don't remember who came up with the whole whale nickname part, I just remember hearing it-everywhere I went. There was a certain way they would say it, powerful, loud, cutting, to my heart.
I would hear it everywhere, snickers, whispers from behind me in class. Then, between classes in the hallway loud, shouting "SHAMOO, go back to the ocean!"
At times, I would purposely get tripped climbing the many of stairs in the school. There comments would be, "quit walking shamoo, start by swimming back in the ocean- you big whale".
I felt like it was the whole grade teasing me, bullying me. Looking back it wasn't. There were a few of them, that never said anything, they would just look at me with the "I'm sorry" eyes.
Truthfully, I thought it was my fault. I wasn't being nice enough. I thought that I needed to try better at meeting new friends in this foreign town.
So I tried harder. I remember Valentines day saving my money to buy them all individual cards with candies. You see I thought I could buy there acceptance. I found out at the end of the day when the valentines ended up torn to shreds in my locker, that that wasn't so.
My locker was also the place where they would post pictures of whales. Many a day, I would come in and find yet another picture taped to my locker of "Shamoo".
Looking back, I was big. Like I said in previous posts, I have been big my whole life.
Back then, I just didn't have a big voice.
I would quietly whisper my bullying to the lunch lady during recess. You see, she was safe, I didn't even think about going to hang out where the rest of the class was. As she was selling her chips and candy to the kids, she would gently hug me, and whisper encouraging words back, reassuring me she was always there to talk to.
(Thankyou, Judy, I love you)
I remember faking sick, often. Knowing, I didn't have it in me to hear another word, or fight another day. It was true my belly hurt, just not in a contagious way.
Then when my mom caught on, I finally confessed and told her the stories of Shamoo the whale. You see, I didn't want to. I wanted to pretend to her that my new school was okay, the people who she told me to hang out with, were nice. And, I was worried at that point that, it wasn't a big deal and was just being a tattle tale.
So, the ring leaders parents were called. I begged, pleaded, with my mom not to call her parents, but she felt like it would get better if parents were involved. (I understand now as a parent) A few minutes later the mom and ring leader showed up. The girl apologized, in a heartfelt way, and I went to bed that night with hope for brighter 7th grade days ahead.
It got worse.
I was known as the tattle tale, the baby, and the whale.
I started hanging out with a different older crew. I started smoking on my lunch breaks. I would pretend not to hear them, like a tough shell covered me. When I was getting pushed, and poked, getting hollered at SHAMOO, I pretended not to hear, listen, or feel.
But, at night, under my covers alone, I would cry. I would scream for my voice, for love. I would hate myself, for not giving a damn, for not sticking up for me. And as I would lay there, I would contemplate, dying. I would wonder how many ibuprofren pills I would need to swallow, before my body would shut down. I would pray for death.
I cant say to this day when the bullying died down. I just know I survived. The love from the sweetheart lunch lady Judy helped. I also had a dear friend (from the hometown we moved from) that would send me tapes of her voice, giving me strength. It seems now, when I pretended not to care, not to show any emotion, it got better, the bullying got to be less. I was also glad to see summer vacation that year.
In 8th grade, I was numb- but not Shamoo.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
The beautiful big me.
I have been big my whole life.
I came into this world, 10 pounds something and I have only gone up from there. I had many mantras. Big girl equals big heart. Or how about the fat jokes? I was the Larry the cable girl of them. At one point in time as I was criticizing my body unconsciously I thought I could write a book on "you know your fat when..."
Along with caring extra weight, I carried insecurities. I spent years being the class clown in any setting I was in. The punch line- was me. You see, I wanted to compensate for my growing body by making people laugh. I truly didn't find myself worthy of having friends in my life, so I always unconsciously put on a show to keep them in my life, my audience, and sadly I never charged a price-it was at my bodies expense.
I remember a few family or friends would tell me at times, "don't talk about yourself that way", my answer was always, "what?! its the truth, and funny". I was numb, I had no idea my body heard and felt every sad fat comment, or big girl joke it heard.
And then, I got pregnant x3! I loved being pregnant. You know the excuse, "now I can eat for two?" Having verification that it was okay that a belly covered my midline, well, it helped. But, along with the pregnancies when your overweight came challenges. I was gestational diabetic for all 3 babies. I will spare you the details for now, but this ultimately was the deciding factor on choosing to be sterile at a real young age. (with still a dream of having a house full of little ones)
Back when my last baby, turned a year old I was on the phone with a friend and decided, enough is enough, and the next day walked in with that phone friend and we both joined Weight Watchers. I remember to this day, stepping on the scale, feeling nervous dread and seeing the numbers written in black ink, 259 lbs.
The first week of weight watchers, I was in shock of the amount of weight I weighed, and I just wanted it off. So, I drank water, exercised like a crazy lady, and ate-very little. Seven days after the initial weigh in, I was back up on that scale with a 9.6 lb lost. I was ecstatic! I felt like I was finally on my way.
A few friends of mine joined there right with me. I had huge support from them. We would meet for our weekly coffees, and go for walks before. I would get a high five every time I would order a side salad with awful fat free ranch dressing. I remember the first time sitting there with my buddies and being able to cross my legs under the table, for the first time, we all giggled with excitement!
And, with the support was the weight watcher meetings. Our beautiful, inspirational, weight watchers leader named Janet, she was a gift . We would spend an hour every week, laughing, crying, sharing our weight loss journey as a group. There were women and men of all sizes. One mans favorite quote was, "If u want to lose weight, if it tastes good, spit it out". And, the ladies that wouldn't lose, or would lose and then gain it all back- there stories would hit me.
Why, or why would u go through the trouble of dieting, to gain it all back? I thought they were crazy and vowed to never turn into one of them.
And, the weight started coming off.
I remember the first time stepping on the scale- and seeing a gain. I gained 2.2 lbs one week, and was mortified. I walked out of weight watchers not even staying for the meeting, I was done. I was not paying money to gain weight. After a few days of eating donuts and ice cream, a dear friend (thanks Judy) not giving up on me and my weight loss journey- I got back in track.
When I hit 60 lbs lost, and hit the 190s, my friends threw a surprise party for me! A cookbook of weight watcher meals, a pee coat jacket (size medium) I felt like life was truly perfect.
At 85 lbs gone, I was at 175. The doctors target weight for me was 160-165 lbs, I was almost there. At this same time, I hit the I've been in weight watchers for one year mark. I was still counting points, exercising daily by running stairs at the local gym, or walking with two toddlers in a double jogger, and one little preschooler on a bike- half the time pushing him, with one hand and steering the stroller with the other, I was doing this!
Looking back now, I don't exactly what made me crash. I just know I did. You see I am a competitor. I will let my feet bleed before I quit a race. I will have a heart attack before I quit hustling in backdoor boot hockey, and I will get a hernia pushing out pushups to try to beat my kids on the number.
And, that's how I lost weight. So, my supportive friends- they didn't know it, but they were my competition. I was in a crazy flight and fight stage, never looking, never feeling any of those pounds that came off.
So, when my friends and I were having a hard time making our schedules work for weigh inns, when inspirational Janet weight watchers leader retired, when my friend got to her goal weight and I was still 10 of the hardest pounds I couldn't lose from mine, I quit.
I could blame it on a lot of things. My mother-in-law past away unexpectedly and I found comfort in full pans of lasagna. My kids were getting bigger, and I still probably hadn't dealt with the whole sterilization thing, there were numerous family problems showing up at that time. People were seeing me as the average size girl and that was coming my normal, so the whole comments, praises, were being said less.
But, the truth is, I lost that weight the wrong way. I didn't do it for me, I did it for a race, for my kids, my family, my friends....but not for me, because I truly believe I still didn't want to feel what that weight held.
I was like those ladies in class that I silently criticized and, gained every single pound back within a few years, and then I played yo-yo with my weight for the next 5 years.
Today, I have an idea- but no number to what the scale would say. The truth is, I haven't weighed myself in months, because I don't want to feel the shame that I have felt my whole life stepping on that magic number maker.
Its still a work in progress. So today, its one day at a time. One good meal choice at a time, one yoga workout, or walk at a time.
And it all about loving and feeling me - this beautiful big me.
I came into this world, 10 pounds something and I have only gone up from there. I had many mantras. Big girl equals big heart. Or how about the fat jokes? I was the Larry the cable girl of them. At one point in time as I was criticizing my body unconsciously I thought I could write a book on "you know your fat when..."
Along with caring extra weight, I carried insecurities. I spent years being the class clown in any setting I was in. The punch line- was me. You see, I wanted to compensate for my growing body by making people laugh. I truly didn't find myself worthy of having friends in my life, so I always unconsciously put on a show to keep them in my life, my audience, and sadly I never charged a price-it was at my bodies expense.
I remember a few family or friends would tell me at times, "don't talk about yourself that way", my answer was always, "what?! its the truth, and funny". I was numb, I had no idea my body heard and felt every sad fat comment, or big girl joke it heard.
And then, I got pregnant x3! I loved being pregnant. You know the excuse, "now I can eat for two?" Having verification that it was okay that a belly covered my midline, well, it helped. But, along with the pregnancies when your overweight came challenges. I was gestational diabetic for all 3 babies. I will spare you the details for now, but this ultimately was the deciding factor on choosing to be sterile at a real young age. (with still a dream of having a house full of little ones)
Back when my last baby, turned a year old I was on the phone with a friend and decided, enough is enough, and the next day walked in with that phone friend and we both joined Weight Watchers. I remember to this day, stepping on the scale, feeling nervous dread and seeing the numbers written in black ink, 259 lbs.
The first week of weight watchers, I was in shock of the amount of weight I weighed, and I just wanted it off. So, I drank water, exercised like a crazy lady, and ate-very little. Seven days after the initial weigh in, I was back up on that scale with a 9.6 lb lost. I was ecstatic! I felt like I was finally on my way.
A few friends of mine joined there right with me. I had huge support from them. We would meet for our weekly coffees, and go for walks before. I would get a high five every time I would order a side salad with awful fat free ranch dressing. I remember the first time sitting there with my buddies and being able to cross my legs under the table, for the first time, we all giggled with excitement!
And, with the support was the weight watcher meetings. Our beautiful, inspirational, weight watchers leader named Janet, she was a gift . We would spend an hour every week, laughing, crying, sharing our weight loss journey as a group. There were women and men of all sizes. One mans favorite quote was, "If u want to lose weight, if it tastes good, spit it out". And, the ladies that wouldn't lose, or would lose and then gain it all back- there stories would hit me.
Why, or why would u go through the trouble of dieting, to gain it all back? I thought they were crazy and vowed to never turn into one of them.
And, the weight started coming off.
I remember the first time stepping on the scale- and seeing a gain. I gained 2.2 lbs one week, and was mortified. I walked out of weight watchers not even staying for the meeting, I was done. I was not paying money to gain weight. After a few days of eating donuts and ice cream, a dear friend (thanks Judy) not giving up on me and my weight loss journey- I got back in track.
When I hit 60 lbs lost, and hit the 190s, my friends threw a surprise party for me! A cookbook of weight watcher meals, a pee coat jacket (size medium) I felt like life was truly perfect.
At 85 lbs gone, I was at 175. The doctors target weight for me was 160-165 lbs, I was almost there. At this same time, I hit the I've been in weight watchers for one year mark. I was still counting points, exercising daily by running stairs at the local gym, or walking with two toddlers in a double jogger, and one little preschooler on a bike- half the time pushing him, with one hand and steering the stroller with the other, I was doing this!
Looking back now, I don't exactly what made me crash. I just know I did. You see I am a competitor. I will let my feet bleed before I quit a race. I will have a heart attack before I quit hustling in backdoor boot hockey, and I will get a hernia pushing out pushups to try to beat my kids on the number.
And, that's how I lost weight. So, my supportive friends- they didn't know it, but they were my competition. I was in a crazy flight and fight stage, never looking, never feeling any of those pounds that came off.
So, when my friends and I were having a hard time making our schedules work for weigh inns, when inspirational Janet weight watchers leader retired, when my friend got to her goal weight and I was still 10 of the hardest pounds I couldn't lose from mine, I quit.
I could blame it on a lot of things. My mother-in-law past away unexpectedly and I found comfort in full pans of lasagna. My kids were getting bigger, and I still probably hadn't dealt with the whole sterilization thing, there were numerous family problems showing up at that time. People were seeing me as the average size girl and that was coming my normal, so the whole comments, praises, were being said less.
But, the truth is, I lost that weight the wrong way. I didn't do it for me, I did it for a race, for my kids, my family, my friends....but not for me, because I truly believe I still didn't want to feel what that weight held.
I was like those ladies in class that I silently criticized and, gained every single pound back within a few years, and then I played yo-yo with my weight for the next 5 years.
Today, I have an idea- but no number to what the scale would say. The truth is, I haven't weighed myself in months, because I don't want to feel the shame that I have felt my whole life stepping on that magic number maker.
Its still a work in progress. So today, its one day at a time. One good meal choice at a time, one yoga workout, or walk at a time.
And it all about loving and feeling me - this beautiful big me.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Loving, and letting go.
Grab a cup of coffee for this one my friends, it's a long one!
When I was in nursing school they had resource day. Different businesses would come in from around the community to let us know all the job possibilities we would have in our nursing career.
Resource day happened at the end of my last year of nursing school. So, as speakers would come up and give there speel, I did what every full time student mom of 3 did. I studied for the upcoming Pathophysiology final.
But, when the last speaker started talking, I felt intrigued to listen. She was a SANE nurse for the local police department. The nurse explained all the responsibilities of a sexual assault nurse examiner, from the rape kit to the counseling. It hit my heart and leaving there I new it might be my calling.
Fast forward life, I graduated, and got a nursing job at a local hospital.
A couple years later In the spring I learned from a friend that the hosptial was looking for SANE nurses, and were looking for people intersted in taking the training. I was extremely interested, and put my name in.
That summer I was in a bad place.
I was filled with fear. I couldn't do daily tasks of shopping at Wallmart, work became hard, and I ended up having to take a leave of absence at work- diagnosis anxiety. (This time in my life will have to be another blog post)
I sought help, doctors, shrinks, holistic healers, friends and close family helped share the load, and slowly I got stronger.
I was just returning back to work when I found out the SANE training was coming up. My boss at work encouraged me not to go, thinking I needed more time. I wasn't worried I told her, I had a few nurse friends that were planning on taking the training with me, and I thought that a week away in another state would do me good.
Then the word came that the government was on shutdown, so we possibly wouldn't be getting paid to go.
I remember discussing with my husband all the issues coming up with SANE training, as my phone rang- the call that changed me.
It was my dear cousin on the other line. She lives in Alaska, and they were due to have there second adopted baby, so I was anxiously awaiting "the new baby news" on the other end of the phone.
Until she told me, that she needed to ask me a question, and I should sit down. I sat and then she stated "I was wondering if u wanted to adopt a baby that's due next winter."
You see this cousin, she knows me. She knew how badly I wanted a big family and how crushed I was when I only had 3. She knows how much I truly love kids.
She then went on to tell me the story. The birth mom was her friend and made a tough decision to give her unborn baby girl that was due on Valentines day up for adoption.
Honestly, my first reaction to her was "oh shit, please don't do this to me right now". You see I felt that I just started using my own two feet to walk forward, and anxiety was not even out of the back door. She gave me the moms number, and to this day I am forever grateful for that call.
I talked to the birthmom. She was so strong and sweet. I was honest with her and asked her for some more time, to decide. She agreed.
My family, we talked, we prayed, we went and asked my dear mother-in-laws grave for an answer. We looked for baby girl names. We visited the fear ridden Wallmart and stared lovingly at the pink fluffy onsies.
But, truthfully as excited as we where at the possibility I couldn't get the "oh shit" feeling out of my mind as my initial thought about adding a baby to our family.
A few days later, the government found money (:)) , my boss agreed for me
to go to the SANE training, and she also decided I was the only staff allowed to go, and....before u know it I was on the way out the door to another state for a week long training, alone.
I remember driving on the way there and calling my husband for support. I remember asking him, what if we are supposed to be parents, I don't want to work on call all night long as a SANE nurse with a newborn?! And, as I think about it today, I can still hear his words. "Shell, the stars all aligned for u to
go, go it's meant". So, I kept driving.
The next morning I woke up in a quiet motel room. I spent extra time spraying the hair and picking out the tummy tucker black pants, to help the jitters that were forming.
I arrived at the tech college where the training was at, early. I quietly sat down and observed everyone talking, laughing- having the comfort of each other.
As class started and we were introducing ourselves I saw a women walk in. You know that feeling that u get when u look at someone and know they have a beautiful heart? Well that was the vibe from the stranger walking in. As she sat down and caught me looking at her, she smiled. I was right.
After 4 grueling hours of draining SANE training, we got an hour lunch break. I ended up sitting at the same table as the sweet strange lady, her name was Susan.
After class was over for the day I made my way back to the motel and ordered Chinese delivery. As I layed on my motel bed in my jammies eating stir fry, my mind drifted to the adoption.
I called Jer (hubby) and again we tried rapping our head around what we were going to do. Before I hung up with him, we decided to pray for a sign from God.
I fell asleep asking, praying, pleading, for anything that could tell us what's meant.
The next day at lunch I sat with Susan and a couple ladies that lived near the Mississippi River. That day we talked about our families, and when it was my turn to talk about my favorite people, the unborn baby adoption story came
flooding out.
And then I watched. I saw Susan with tears in her eyes telling me, "I'm so happy for you"!
At that point in time I was thinking, you don't even know me, wow, I don't even know what i want! And as the rest of the ladies started telling there family story, I drifted off in my own thoughts, until Susan shared.
Susan told her story of meeting her husband, and being married for a number of years. When asked how many kids she had, she gently said "none". And, vulnerably said they suffered from infertility issues.
And then it hit me.
I left class that night and called my husband telling him, I think I found our sign. I called the birth mom, and cried and told her the news, and then I fell asleep, exhausted.
The next day in class Susan was sitting behind me. And, like we did in junior high I took a yellow sticky note and wrote to her, asking if she wanted to go for lunch by ourselves, and passed it back.
At lunch I began by telling her the adoption story, the anxiety, and the asking God for a sign, and finding her. I then asked her if she wanted to be a mom, and I can still hear her screams now, "yes, yes,yes"!
The rest of SANE training passed in a blur. I heard from Susan that her and the birth mom talked lots, and were starting to feel like family. I also got to listen to the adoption process, and give pointers on what kind crib and bottle to get.
Leaving and saying goodbye to Susan was hard. She truly became my soul friend in a week.
I remember driving home letting go of
what could've been. I know I could've loved that sweet little bundle of a baby from Alaska, but I also knew that Susan could love her more.
Beautiful baby Briella was born a few months later, with both her moms welcoming her to this life.
As for me, I have gained a soul friend and an auntie status to a beautfiul blessing. Today I no longer even work as a SANE nurse. I know what I learned in that training is greater than any text book or PowerPoint can teach,
I learned to love and let go.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Saying YES to YOGA
I have never been a back row in the class type of girl.
I cant even pretend it, I love to talk, yearn to listen, and feel super filled up, learning, doing, seeing!
So, included in this new membership at the gym, is classes. And, yoga has always called to me. I will never forget a few years ago, I hired a personal trainer to help me with the weight loss battle that has been my life. One of her first questions as she was getting to know me was, "what are your goals for training?" I quietly stated, "I want to find my core."
She was a one of a kind trainer, I actually called her the Jillian Michaels of the U.P. She pushed me like no other. On my 31st birthday, she treated me to 31 lunges, squats, pushups and situps for an hour straight. That was so foreign to me, usually my birthday consisted of, what food I was going to spend the day enjoying, what cake or dessert I was going to have, and how many restaurants can I hit for a free meal?!
But, the hardest part of the few months of training was never the physical exercise, yes sometimes I had to go down my steps like a one year old, on my bottom, but the part that always stung the most, was the emotional...
She would make me look at myself in the mirror, as the sweat was coming out of every single pore, and then she would ask the tough questions. Along with being a trainer, she was also an amazing shrink- and tears in the session were an almost everyday occurance.
One of those trainings with her was outside, of a very busy small town street. I was very visible there with the tractor tire that I was trying to do jump squats on. I will never forget her screaming at me, "see all those people driving by, what do you think they are thinking?" And, I stated...."keep going fat girl", and she said words to me that still sting in my heart to this day....
"When are you going to quit being your own worst enemy Michelle?"
I am still working on that enemy part, today.
I love life, I love people, I love sunsets, big mountains, lakes, rivers running, streams, bunnies, new little puppies, babies toes, but most days I am still working on the loving me, the whole body and soul me.
Fast forward to yesterday and the gym pass, and yoga calling.
Wednesday night I decided, I would go, and try yoga, still knowing, my core is still in the finding stage. I set the alarm, and when it went off at 5:20, I told myself, "you got this Michelle". You see, I have only tried yoga a couple times with a little DVD, by myself in my own living room.
So, I made a deal. I would quietly walk into class, and find a quiet back corner, try it, and leave.
Come to find out, there were 3 people who showed up for sunrise yoga, and one of them was the instructor, there was no back row.
It was perfect.
I felt my body. I quietly hushed all those voices in my head telling me I was clumsy, and not to look in the big wall of mirrors ahead of you, and I breathed. I got lost in the moment with the movements and the 45 minutes flew by. And, when it was over and we were quietly meditating on our mats with our blocks supporting our head and shoulders, tears came. The instructor finished off the class by rubbing essential oils on my temples, and I was deciding there really could be heaven here on earth-she quietly whispered to me,
"You are so strong".
And, I believed her.
I was never meant to be the girl in the back row, this visible front row life, is where its at.
I cant even pretend it, I love to talk, yearn to listen, and feel super filled up, learning, doing, seeing!
So, included in this new membership at the gym, is classes. And, yoga has always called to me. I will never forget a few years ago, I hired a personal trainer to help me with the weight loss battle that has been my life. One of her first questions as she was getting to know me was, "what are your goals for training?" I quietly stated, "I want to find my core."
She was a one of a kind trainer, I actually called her the Jillian Michaels of the U.P. She pushed me like no other. On my 31st birthday, she treated me to 31 lunges, squats, pushups and situps for an hour straight. That was so foreign to me, usually my birthday consisted of, what food I was going to spend the day enjoying, what cake or dessert I was going to have, and how many restaurants can I hit for a free meal?!
But, the hardest part of the few months of training was never the physical exercise, yes sometimes I had to go down my steps like a one year old, on my bottom, but the part that always stung the most, was the emotional...
She would make me look at myself in the mirror, as the sweat was coming out of every single pore, and then she would ask the tough questions. Along with being a trainer, she was also an amazing shrink- and tears in the session were an almost everyday occurance.
One of those trainings with her was outside, of a very busy small town street. I was very visible there with the tractor tire that I was trying to do jump squats on. I will never forget her screaming at me, "see all those people driving by, what do you think they are thinking?" And, I stated...."keep going fat girl", and she said words to me that still sting in my heart to this day....
"When are you going to quit being your own worst enemy Michelle?"
I am still working on that enemy part, today.
I love life, I love people, I love sunsets, big mountains, lakes, rivers running, streams, bunnies, new little puppies, babies toes, but most days I am still working on the loving me, the whole body and soul me.
Fast forward to yesterday and the gym pass, and yoga calling.
Wednesday night I decided, I would go, and try yoga, still knowing, my core is still in the finding stage. I set the alarm, and when it went off at 5:20, I told myself, "you got this Michelle". You see, I have only tried yoga a couple times with a little DVD, by myself in my own living room.
So, I made a deal. I would quietly walk into class, and find a quiet back corner, try it, and leave.
Come to find out, there were 3 people who showed up for sunrise yoga, and one of them was the instructor, there was no back row.
It was perfect.
I felt my body. I quietly hushed all those voices in my head telling me I was clumsy, and not to look in the big wall of mirrors ahead of you, and I breathed. I got lost in the moment with the movements and the 45 minutes flew by. And, when it was over and we were quietly meditating on our mats with our blocks supporting our head and shoulders, tears came. The instructor finished off the class by rubbing essential oils on my temples, and I was deciding there really could be heaven here on earth-she quietly whispered to me,
"You are so strong".
And, I believed her.
I was never meant to be the girl in the back row, this visible front row life, is where its at.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
And so it begins.
Starting a blog has been a dream in my heart for years. You see I love to write, anything. The papers in English class, the few sentences in a birthday card, even doodling all over pages, signing Michelle Kay Massie 100 different ways, writing to me has always been easy.
So, it never was about the words that I would write that slowed me down from starting a blog. I have always been able to find them easily too, so why did it take me till now to start a blog?
Because, as much as I love to write and I have words, Ive been scared. Yes, this is the whole truth. I knew my words, my writing would have to be my truth, from my heart. And, you see I am still finding out what that means and is.
I knew when I was ready, it needed to be me, to be real.
And, I wish I could say that everyday I will write about the sun shining, or the fabulous quote, the gifts we are given, the beautiful nature walk, the blessings in my life.
But, the truth is, some days its hard for me to put the shoes on to see the nature walk, I cant even read the inspirational quote, much less anchor it in my heart, and the blessings in my life today, are shadowed from the grief of my past. I am a work in progress. That is where this blog comes in to play.
Ive waited for a title to come for this blog, for some time. I gently asked my closest family and friends, looking for any advice. And one day last week, as I was at the local gym by myself, sweating, tears streaming down my face, I had a flash and it hit me,
Feeding my own soul, finding the girl who ran with dresses on.
When I was in the 3rd grade at a local small school in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, I loved gym class. We would run laps around the big gym, keeping your feet in between the black lines. I loved to run. I loved to feel my heart beating fast, the strength of my legs, to taste the sweat coming down my forehead. And, I was not like any of the other girls in my class who wore there wind pants and t-shirts on gym days, I wore long dresses. My favorite one was light pink and polka dot white tie in the back, to your ankles dress, borrowed from the big sisters. So, with my tennis shoes and long dresses on,
I would run-and I felt free.
And, well the gym teacher, he could see how much it moved me, and, he let me run, extra laps.
In this 3rd grade class there was a boy, named Brent, that would love to run too. As the rest of the kids would grab a drink from the water fountain, we would run, next to each other together. And as the whistle would blow from the teacher telling us one last lap, the cheers would start from our fellow classmates. The girls, would be screaming for me to win, and the boys would be hollaring for Brent to finish first. To be honest, thinking back now who won those races, I cant even remember, what sticks-
is the feeling I felt running with those long dresses on.
And, like the girls cheering me on as I was sprinting, that is what I have looked for my whole life.
Support, safety, love, my own fan club- something to call me own.
I never knew truly how to did deep, to look inside, to feed my own soul. Ive spent years searching for those girls, anyone, to cheer me on-never knowing it would not fill me up until I could love, I could look, from the inside out, to love me first.
These are my real words, and so it begins.
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