Tag Archives: ideas

Dare to Dream

“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!”

~The Doc Who Is Suess


 

The Girl roped me into watching Acrimony over the weekend. Not the best movie ever, but there was one part of the storyline that had me thinking (and jealous almost). The basic gist of the moving picture was woman met man, man used woman for twenty years as he worked to get his dream off the ground. At the end of the twenty years, said woman (who had the patience of a saint with him) booted him out. Shortly thereafter, his dream came to fruition and she missed the life he promised her by a hair. Yikes. The part that stuck out was how committed he was to his dream. He was absorbed by his belief he had something that could change not only their lives but the world.  He allowed his wife to work two jobs, quit school, mortgage (and foreclose on) a paid off home, and drain her inheritance. Nothing mattered outside of his dream. It left me wishing I had the balls to abandon all responsibility to work on a dream.

There are things I want to do before it is over, but to accomplish them even a little bit, I will (maybe) get two hours of sleep a day. No joke. Thoughts of spending hours upon hours writing and planning are so filling I could barely contain myself. Oh, how I want it. Need it. But then I am brought back to life, back to reality. As much as I want to be absorbed by the dream, I can not allow myself to get too carried away. Life comes with kids, husbands, and bills and I am not willing to toss them aside. (Well, maybe the bills)

The easy part is dreaming. The hard part is believing. It is tough to believe in something so much that causes tunnel vision. We believe in our vision, but depending on how long it takes, our cheerleaders run out of cheers and get weary in our well doing.  Believing in a dream means work, commitment, and dedication. Belief in the vision is a selfish act, and sadly I am not that selfish. I sure as hell want to be, but the way my spirit works….I just can’t do it.

The scorned ex-wife ended up going crazy and trying to kill the ex-husband. She toiled and troubled for half her life because she gave him the space to believe in the dream, but she also knew survival meant food, power, and water. As much as I  need to dream the dream, I need to not end up with a crazy ex-husband more. I need healthy children more. I need a regular paycheck more. I can chip away at what I want slowly and surely, but what I am not willing to give up for the belief of a thing is everything else. It won’t stop me from thinking left or right. But, it will slow me down a bit, and that is cool. I’ve got nothing but time…I just pray it doesn’t take twenty years.

~SM

 

The Possible Underneath

We are struggling pretty hard these days. We get paid on Friday morning and by Friday morning we are broke (yea, you read that right). I am barely keeping the car company off my ass, and most nights I spend the wee hours of the morning hoping the loud pickup trucks ambling by are not tow trucks. Rent is paid late, but seriously who has $1500 on the first, ever?  I slowly pass by the almond butters, the salmons and the exotic fruits and veggies for the staples: peanut butter, fish sticks and iceberg lettuce (or frozen brocc). We are in the sweet spot of making too much on paper but making too little in the real world. It can be hard to dream under these circumstances, yes? Ah…but I manage.

Don’t get me wrong, we have joyous moments. We play board games with the kids (when we tie them down) or throw caution to the wind and rent an odd movie or two (The Oath is so random). We forget about bills, empty bank accounts and pickup trucks rolling by for stretches at a time. A slobbery smile from Cookie or an out of place dance move from The Girl or an absurd comment from The Boy peek under the blanket of stress, for a moment. And in the quiet moments, when the house is quiet and the only sound is stillness, I dream.

Possibility is a constant. It never fades. It is always there to be rummaged through. It is why I lose myself in the stillness and dream. I dream of writing. I dream of creating a space all my own. I dream of vacations. I dream of being better than Sir King. I dream of my children rolling their eyes at the mention of my books from a stranger/classmate/teacher. I dream of big oaks and a conversation with Madam O. I dream about me, the little green sprout, pushing through the cold, uncomfortable blanket of snow.

It is not impossible. Nothing is impossible. It feels like it. My God does it feel like it, but underneath all of this heavy, there is something…possible. No, this isn’t comfy. It affects the sight and the mind. It makes things appear so much different than it is making it hard to navigate. It is easy to get lost when everything is covered. But the minuscule, lush green beacon of light poking through the blinding white is a reminder that everything is possible….I just have to hang on and dig a little deeper. I have to rummage through the possible and grab something, anything, and try it on for size. There is nothing to lose but opportunities not seized.

~SM

Stand By

Over the last few days (ever since the book episode), I have been thinking how I can (a) better serve my growth journey over these next 18 months and (b) how I can be of service to others as they grow. Being Sadie May was never really about anyone or anything outside of…well…Sadie. It started out as a therapy practice, thanks to a suggestion from a friend. But, if I haven’t learned anything but this–I have learned that people/places/things/ideas evolve. So, in the spirit of being an ever-changing-human with the ability adapt to moving ideas, I am going to take a few days, get myself prepared, take the road map I have tucked away in my office and navigate this journey completely and totally out loud.  Oh boy. This is gonna be fun 🙂

~SM

 

Pride & Surprise

What moments and milestones make you most proud? How did God surprise you? (Grit & Virtue)

Every morning, I drag myself into the daycare with Cookie in tow. Eyes still filled with sleep and a silent begging to the lottery gods, I open the door and plant the baby on the floor. I hand over bottles and baby food and ready myself for the next leg of my morning journey. On these mornings, body still aching for the bed, Mrs. J greets us with a smile and asks the rudimentary questions any caregiver should ask. Unsure of how this one morning turned, we got on the topic of my job which then turned into a conversation about me being a writer which steered into the direction of her being a writer too. She wanted to write a book, but was unsure of where to start. A children’s book, go figure. If anyone could, she most definitely should. You have to be sent from God to deal with a room full of slobbering, snotting, crying, peeing/pooping little humans day in and day out. “Hm, I have something for you,” I said. The next morning, I handed her the last (hard) copy of my book. She beamed and said she would read it over the Christmas break and return it when we came back. I waved her off and told her to keep it. It was just collecting dust in a drawer anyway.

There are many moments when I am proud. I am proud of The Boy and all of his accomplishments on the field and his heart off it. I am proud of The Girl and her resourcefulness and her ability to sincerely care for others. I am proud of Young Gun fighting through grief and sadness and still look to the brighter side. I am proud of my parents for still grinding and still giving. I am proud of everyone in my life who does. The only person I am ever, hardly proud of…is me. But this morning, a break in the clouds came and a little warmth buzzed in my belly. This morning, I was proud.

Today was unlike any other. I shuffled into the room, Cookie in hand, ready to just crawl back into bed. “Today I have a purpose!” Mrs. J exclaimed through a broad, gap-toothed smile. For the last few weeks, she has been throwing quotes my way. They are mine. My words. She uses the book/journal as her daily devotional. This morning’s message was to go back to the point in your life when you were doing something that made you happy, really, really happy. She did. She found it was writing. She proceeded to tell me in a rush of words that Today I AM was a blessing. It has helped her so much thus far and she loved it. I sheepishly nodded and smiled. “Great! That was the point. If it helped just one person…” I said with a smile. I kissed Cookie and waved good-bye, smiling to myself just a bit. How ‘bout that.

To actually hold the book in my hands was amazing enough. I had done it. I had taken everything I had gone through over the course of these last four years and managed to make a work of art. I left it on the shelf (literally and figuratively) for the better part of the year due to extenuating circumstances, but in the 11th hour, she appeared again. God surprised me, alright. He not only allowed me to accomplish a major goal, but He made the broken pieces more meaningful than I could have ever imagined. And, yet, He didn’t stop there. He used it all to help someone else become a better them. I shouldn’t be surprised by what He does. But I am.

In the wise words of The Anchorman, I am a glass case of emotion. Just under the surface, there is pride, gratitude, and praise. I am proud of my abilities. I am grateful He chose to use me. I am dancing on the inside thanking Him for loving me enough to put so much greatness in such an unworthy package. Won’t He do?

~Today I HAVE purpose…SM

Planners, Paper, Pens…Oh my!

Paper. All types. Pens. All kinds. Planners. Every one. If it is an office supply, I am drawn to it. It has been like that always. I have journals, notebooks, planners, pens, stickers, labels, folders, markers, crayons, post its, pencils, paper, dividers, rulers, calculators, tape, binders and page protectors in various locations (neatly) tucked away. If I get stressed, I go to the store in search of the perfect notebook. Sometimes, I just stand and hug a pack of filler paper. *sigh* Don’t judge.

When B2S time comes, I start making lists in July. This past August I had a carriage full of school supplies and The Girl just shook her head. “Mommy,” she said with amusement and slight pity in her eyes, “we’re in high school. We really don’t need all that stuff. Just get paper and binders. That’s it.” My eyes fell on the carriage full of boxes of crayons and markers, several notebooks and binders, construction paper, two types of glue, pencil pouches and the like. I smiled sheepishly as I started releasing the booty. For most of my issues, I know the source, but this? With this, I was clueless…until recently.

Overly excited about the discovery that Michael’s had a one day sale on planners, Young Gun sat staring at me.

“What?” I asked baffled by his look of…hmm…no.

“No,” he said.

“No, what? I didn’t buy one,” I protested.

“Good! You have a drawer full already that you don’t use.” Lies. Those, people, are lies. Each planner has a purpose and I use them all the time. He just doesn’t pay attention. “Why do you like paper so much,” he asked. I shrugged. That was a good question. I had no idea.

“I don’t know why I like paper stuff so much.” Silence filled the air as I put my brain to work really trying to understand. After about a minute had passed and my puzzler was sore, I said, “Well, take the planner, for instance. There is something so exciting about it. The way it smells, the cleanliness of it all. There’s so much possibility.”

Ah-ha! And there it was.

For thirty plus years I have been in love with paper and pens (and anything closely office related), and for the better part of twenty, I have felt like a weirdo for the love affair. But here, hanging in the air, was the answer to why this moth is drawn to that particular flame. There is so much possibility. The same can be said for pens and pencils, crayons and markers. The potential is enormous!

 What can be created within the pages of a journal? What life-altering words can be written on paper? What power can be wielded with the pen? Billion dollar businesses have been formed from thought spilled from a pen. Lives have been forever changed by what was poured out onto a blank page!  *swoon*

Anyway, I ended up not buying a new planner. Even though I had a better understanding of why it all meant what it meant, I also had an obligation to myself to be a responsible human being and not hoard…and, uh, also, I couldn’t make it to the store in time.  But, hey, at least I put a face with the name on this age-old love affair. Perhaps now I can put it to good use and actually create something on those marvelously beautiful blank spaces.

 

The Meltdown

I had a meltdown. If I was the Wicked Witch, I would have been all smoke.

I have been working since I was eleven. I have been getting a paycheck with someone else’s signature on it for almost thirty years. I have clocked in and out, followed someone else’s rules and adhered to someone else’s dress code for the better part of twenty. Cookie was my chance to escape. With three months of self-time, I could create a new biz and quit the rat race. At some point, between daydreaming about what I thought I would be able to do and sleepwalking out of sheer exhaustion, nothing was accomplished. With two weeks left until my jail sentence began, I decided to get serious about a seven-year-old idea. But then….

I saw it. I saw my idea on someone’s Etsy page and people were buying it. My idea. Her page. I slid off the couch and onto the floor (yes, literally) and laid in the fetal position shivering. My idea. The one I had drawn up, attempted to create. The idea I had sitting on the dusty mental shelf waiting for the perfect time—for this time—to put into action. That one. It was on some strange lady’s page with her stupid smiling face and her stupid bio. Mine. Mine. Mine.

I managed to get up off the floor before the tears came. I went to the bathroom and burst into tears. Why the hell could I never win? Was I just destined to be a worker bee? Didn’t God know I was tired? Did He not know I have to work hard just to bust a fake smile from the corner cubical under those harsh fluorescent lights? Didn’t He realize I want to create something too? I tore all my little positive quotes off the bathroom mirror and just stood there staring. I sighed. Of course, He knew. He also knew I was ungrateful. I was spoiled and now, feeling a bit too entitled.

The idea wasn’t meant to sit on a dusty mental shelf. The idea was meant to be given and worked. I am the one who let life get in the way. I let vacations, relaxation, concerts and tasty food sneak its way in and steal time. I let dating and wedding planning slide in and take its space. I am the one who let the idea get away. The Etsy Lady got the idea too and she ran with it. I sat with mine and watched it fester and mold and had a meltdown when it wasn’t fit to consume. Tsk tsk.

Of course, I could go through with it anyway. I could do all the extra work to do my version of the idea (cuz yes, they are a little different), but do I have the energy though? Do I have the money? Do I have the time? Nope. Nada. No. I will just chalk up yet another idea gone to waste (the personal shopping thing still burns my buns every time I see it every friggin where–another story for another time) and pull up my big girl undies, swipe my key card and clock in.

Yes, it sounds like giving up, but it isn’t. Some of us are meant to be where we are and there is nothing wrong with that. Perhaps if I just stand still and accept the position I am in I will be much better off, and I won’t need so many stinking Post-its cluttering up my bathroom mirror. I won’t have to constantly remind myself of how great I can be if I can just be great. Right here. Right now. Maybe if I stop thinking about a way to escape, the guard will just hand over the key.

I am going to work on being present and happy in the moment. If I can stand here, now, I can stand there later. And I am a-okay with that.

~SM

Freestyle Friday: Ideas Are Scary

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I had seen this commercial a while ago and intended to write about it then, but light bulb moments are fleeting in my brain on a daily. I usually have trouble figuring out why I walked into the bedroom (to get….what again?) let alone remembering an idea. Anyway, I had to share, and it fit for a Freestyle Friday topic. Go into the weekend being inspired to do something. Even if you end up not doing anything, at least your weekend won’t be a sad countdown to Monday morning 😛

~SM