21 Days: Day 1

I woke up with anticipation and hope wondering what meaningful experience I could write about. Funny thing about that: When you approach life looking for blessings, that is exactly what comes to you. Power of attraction, intention … call it what you will, but I’m gonna call it a fact.

1. I spent way more than 2 minutes counting plenty of blessings not the least of which was waking at my normal 5 a.m. and functioning caffeine-free–that, my friends, is nothing short of miraculous.

2. While I’m not scrolling through pictures and status updates and actually spending time being present in my own life, I have way more time to spend engaged in one of my favorite activities: Reading. So today, I took a long look at my Goodreads to-read list and requested a few from the library. Our little Cortland library doesn’t always have the books I want to read, but they always get them within a week or so. Since I was really in the mood to read, and a few minutes early to pick Peyton up from school, I decided to wander around the library and see if any books wanted me to read them.

Strolling through the new releases, I nearly squealed (but I’ve been kicked out of the old Warren Public library enough times to know to keep quiet) when I saw Anne Lamott’s newest release, Small Victories. I did do a small and nearly imperceptible dance that probably could have been written off as a nervous er whole body twitch. Anne Lamott is my absolute FAVORITE writer. I had just requested this book and never dreamed it would be on the shelf in our tiny library. But of course it would be. The subtitle is: Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace. I got it. This time.

3. Still working on my thank you note–by hand. I won’t say who it is for because the person might be one of my 3 loyal readers. You’ll know if you get a card in the mail 🙂

In conclusion, my friends, Day 1 was fab-u-louso. Ate healthy food, did yoga with my dear sweet friend, and got some great books to read. Also, I don’t have a caffeine headache. That’s really remarkable. I would love to hear how you are doing on the fast, or if you have a really kick-a$$ recipe you’d want to share. Or if you also love Anne Lamott. Cause she’s awesome. Happy Monday; I’m grateful for you.

xoxo

Fast On. Again.

Evidently, lots of people are giving up Facebook for Lent. There’s even some cute little profile pictures you can use and 415,782 (at least 3) blogs all ready written advocating why people are, aren’t or think it’s a great/stupid/beneficial/lame idea.

Now, I’m not a particularly opinionated person. I’m not a fixer. I’m no good at giving advice because of the whole, “If I were you…” thing that I kind of wrote about here. In fact, I’m pretty terrible at lots of things, but I’m actually really good at listening, hugging, snuggling, and getting sidetracked. I’m awesome at getting sidetracked. If there were an Olympic event called sidetracking, I’d be a contender. Is there? It seems like spell-check should have redlined sidetracking, but it didn’t, but it did redline “redlined…”

Back to this fast: Giving up social media for me is an opportunity to spend more time reading (I just got 4 new books), writing, creating, listening, hugging, snuggling, and getting sidetracked. The last few weeks I watched how much time I spent on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram and thought, man, I could get a lot of stuff done with that time.

For instance, I could pin WAYYYYY more stuff! I’m kidding. Kind of. I’m not giving up Pinterest. That is where my family’s dinner comes from every day. Do you want them to starve? Have you seen my son? That kid can’t afford to miss a meal.

Also, before the SM cops (social media–I went there so I figure you did too) arrest me, this blog is linked to Networked Blogs, so when I post something here, NB shares it on Facebook and Twitter. I am going to write here (see above), but I won’t see or respond to comments on Facebook. I’m fully prepared for the backlash when this goes on FB, and people say, “Oh, wow, you all ready broke your fast?!” or “Knew you wouldn’t make it!” Anyone who’s ever fasted anything knows how that goes.

That in itself is puzzling. The joy some people feel when they perceive someone has failed at something. I don’t get that. However, as a part-time vegan for 5 1/2 years, I’ve experienced all sorts of self-appointed food cops waiting for me to “mess up” so they could say, “AHA! You can’t eat that!” or some other criticism. Except here’s the deal: I didn’t join a club with a bunch of strict rules, I just decided not to eat certain things. So while there probably are vegan cops, I’m not even on their radar.

So, if anyone feels compelled to point out my own or anyone else’s failings, I’m not going to take that personally. And despite my distaste for giving advice (goodness, I’m such a contradiction; no wonder my poor husband is losing his hair) I’m going to suggest you might want to check your own motivations for celebrating another’s failure.

I am 2.5 waking hours into this fast and missing my Facebook friends and wondering what witty tweets and adorable pictures I’ve missed. Also, I wonder if my brother has posted anything horrific on my wall. Did he? Would one of you please contact me in the real world if he does?

Peace out. xoxo

You Like Me? You Really LIKE ME?

Over my 40 1/2 years, I have spent a great deal of time and energy trying to make people like me. I don’t do that anymore. Don’t get me wrong: I try to be kind, compassionate, honest, but I no longer change myself to fit someone else’s idea of who/what I should be.

BUT people who knew me when I lost sleep about people not liking me are confused now when I don’t care, don’t engage, don’t kiss anyone’s behind. See, if I compliment you, I genuinely mean it. I do like your hair, perfume, outfit or shoes. I really do think you’ve lost weight and I see that your arms are toned up. For real. I’m not saying that so you like me.

I have been a lot of people’s “person” over the years. And I appreciate the opportunity. I love hearing people’s stories and have been changed and blessed so many times by those who have trusted me with their secrets. I rarely reciprocate, but it’s usually because I feel that my role is that of listener rather than sharer. My brother takes particular offense to this because he is me to many others, while I am usually me to him. I’ve told him lots of times that I do feel I could talk to him if I needed to; I just rarely feel the need.

Mostly I sort out my problems in my head, in a book, and in writing. I don’t trust a lot of people. I guess I have had too many encounters with those who used what I told them in confidence as ammunition down the road. But if and when I want to talk about a problem, I don’t find a lack of willing listeners. Surprisingly enough, I digress.

In the recent past, a few people have decided to dislike me. I apologized in the instances where I felt I may have wronged someone, and in the other cases I just prayed for the person and moved on. The fact that I am able to do this is an earth-shattering change. This is the kind of progress that could drive a therapist, if I had one, to publish an amazing case study, retire early and rest on the laurels of helping that one person who seemed beyond help. At least, I think that is how I might feel if I were a therapist who was able to help a seemingly hopeless acceptance addict such as myself.

When I say I’m a vegetarian, people feel the need to tell me why they eat meat or how little meat they eat or that they only eat chicken. I don’t make judgements about what anyone else eats. You can eat a rack of ribs next to me; I don’t mind. When I say I am a Christian, some people feel the need to explain to me why they don’t believe in God. It’s cool. God made a crazy huge amazing change in my life, and I am super excited about that. Sometimes it’s hard to contain my excitement, but I am not trying to shove it down anyone’s throat. I respect people’s choices. 

Bottom line: I am blessed by the people who give me feedback positive and negative. I love people whether they are Catholic, Christian, spiritual, or atheist. And if you don’t like me? It’s okay; I like you anyway, but I’m not gonna lose any sleep over your feelings about me. Because it was never about me anyway.