Tag Archives: play with heart

What IS This, Exactly?

I am not one for a bunch of emotion. I think these past two years have been the most outwardly emotional I have been in quite some time (or maybe ever). I know what those look/feel like. I know what fear looks like; I know what joy feels like; I know what anger says….but as of late I am a walking cesspool of butterflies and smiles. WTF is that???

I caught myself smiling at the ceiling at work one morning–lost in thought. I found myself battling butterflies and squishy insides one afternoon. I called Brooklyn yesterday and literally screamed in her ear for no reason other than just to get whatever this crap is out. What is happening to me?

I left my car keys hanging in the car door. I left my office keys hanging in my desk drawer. I can barely string together a sentence or comprehend what people are saying because my brain is like scrambled eggs (gosh that sounds good right now…I’m starving…see what I mean…lost focus). My heart skips beats and I swear I blush about 50 times a day. I am a walking, barely talking skin bag full of squishiness and fog.

Even now I sit with butterflies in my belly, floating from one end to another. Do I have some sort of disease? Is it Shingles? I have had chicken pox, you know. Scarlet Fever? The Flu? It’s not crabs because my gentiles don’t itch. And, no, I am not with child–this uterus is on lock down. Perhaps the Zombie Virus is a real thing and my body is fighting it with a vengeance? Whatever is happening, it feels funky but it feels good. I feel like I am floating beyond Cloud 9.

~SM

PTRR: New Found Independence Like A Motherf***er

I have probably told this story 90 million times, but for those who do not know I was pretty fat (293 lbs to be exact) for my height and I needed to get rid of it. I had tried everything on this side of the sun and figured the only thing that would get me moving in the right direction was to challenge myself with something way outside of Zone Comfort. So…I did. I decided to run.

I got picked for the Peachtree Road Race that year. I trained. I ran. I wobbled for two days. I ran the following year and the year after that. The third year was the most emotional year. During this time The Marriage was in undeniable trouble and my life was coming apart at the seems. That year, I ran the entire 6.2 miles and Cardiac Hill (killer hill at mile 3). I ran to the finish line with Kay who pushed us and when I crossed I broke down. If I could have laid in the road and wept I would have. I was happy because I had beat myself and won, yet I was sad because I knew that at that moment everything had changed. The Spirit never lies.

The next year I didn’t get in and I didn’t really care to run either. I was sad and angry and I did not have the energy, nor the respect, for the process of running the Peachtree. But oh what a difference a year makes. This year I am celebrating my new found independence the only way I know how. Running. Running my race.

When the email came through congratulating me on making it in, I leaped out of bed and squealed with joy. I get to celebrate independent Me from where it all began. I get to do this not to prove someone wrong or to lose myself. I get to do this on my terms, for my reasons and be present for it all. When I cross the finish line this year, I cannot guarantee I won’t break down again, but I can be sure of one thing: nothing will be the same.  I can’t wait to see the amazing things in store.

It is cool how Life works. It is even more astounding how the Universe rises up to meet you where you stand. This phase of my life is about celebration and enjoyment and pacing and exploring. I cannot possibly see tipping my hat to this phase in a more fun, liberating way.

~SM

Freestyle Friday: God Is Good

All the time. Won’t He just do it? Isn’t He just on time all of the time? I love God just because He is God. His dreams for me are bigger than I could ever fathom. His vision stretches farther than my vision could ever go. His direction is correct every time. So, for those who need a little reminder of how good He is and the job you still have left to do–here it goes. Whenever I am feeling the need for nudge for focus on the Greater, this is what I blast. Happy Friday! And keep rockin–you’ve got this. Just trust. It all works for your good.

Living To The Fullest: What Does That Even Mean Anyway???

Young Gun and I were having a conversation about Life. We  converse about Life often, but something he said snapped in my brain. “I just want to enjoy life. Just live it to the fullest…” I have heard that statement a million times, but I never actually asked myself what it really meant. What the heck does it mean anyway???

Emily’s grandmother passed away in her 90’s. I suck with death, especially when the deceased are old. I was sad because she was sad, but I could not quite understand the sadness totally. I sucked with my Granddad’s death. I was not really moved by it–simply because he was old. He had seen his children young, then old. He had seen his grandchildren young, then old. He had seen wars and riots. He had experienced Martin Luther King, Jr. and President Obama. He had even been allowed to see his great grandchildren young and sorta old. At Old, he had seen a lot, but had he lived a lot? When Emily’s grandma passed I wondered that about her too. What had she seen, where had she gone and if she had actually lived.

Does living your life to the fullest mean sky diving and tattooing and partying? Does it mean loving and leaving? Does it mean parenting and grand parenting? Is there some sort of measurement for life-empty, life-half full, life-full? If so….what? Is it safe to say that if you make it to 90-something you’ve lived? And who is the document-er of such things?

I want to see the world. Perhaps not all of it, but most of it. I want to pet a dolphin and snorkel. I want to hang glide and eat an Ostrich egg. I want to feel God in everything and meditate without actually falling asleep. I want to walk into a room and own it and I want to see the kids do great things….just to name a few. If I accomplish those things, will I then be closer to living a full life? Is living a full life based on a person’s beliefs and ideals? Where is the man/woman one can point to and say “He/She is living their life fully!”?

I did not bother to ask Young Gun what he meant. I am not sure it is something that can be put into words. What I do know is that I want to try it–whatever that is. I think I need to. We all need to. Right?

~SM

I Don’t Wanna Grow Up…

I’mma Toys R Us kid… Yea, I knew you were singing that in your head too. If you are anything like me, your head was bopping side to side in tune with the phantom music of the ad/slogan, whatever. You know why that song is still stuck in your head years after outgrowing most of the crap in that store? Because deep down, none of us really want to grow up (true story)

I am uncertain if I am a big baby (The Bestie would be quick to counter that statement), but at the age of almost 36 I do still call my parents Mommy and Daddy. I am still influenced by their opinions and yes, I do still get all butterfly snuggly at the thought of slipping onto my dad’s side of the bed after he’s left for work and snoring my mom awake. No part of me wants to grow up now that I know what grown up looks like. Ewww…I no want it.

The thought of actually being a grown up came while sitting at batting practice, bundled up in a pea coat, doing budget spreadsheets for 2015. The day before I spent the evening finishing up the 2015 vision board and color coding a shiny new 2015 desk calendar. Those are things grown ups do. I spent the morning thinking about the next ten years and where exactly I did not want to be at the end of them and none of those things included coloring books and candy. Ugh.

If I had my way, we would still take naps and wear shoes that light up. PB & J would be a staple and hard plastic lunch boxes with cartoon characters on the front would be the latest accessory. Recess would be a must and Ultimate Frisbee  would be better than football. Forts would be our vacation houses and sour, lip smacking candy would be on deck for breakfast. If I had my way….I would never grow up and I would not insist on others growing with me.

But I suppose it is a little hard to go back to all of that (1) knowing what I know and (2) being as big as I am. Play Place slides and ball pits would not exactly support my size.  At any rate, I am not really in the mood to do the hard stuff, but at this point, I think that is all that is left.

So if you see me swinging on swings or coloring with my tongue poked out or playing on monkey bars or getting vomit-dizzy on the merry-go-round, don’t judge. Just nod and proceed about your grown up life…..or come join me. The more the merrier.

~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

 

More Doing…Less Thinking

It has been discussed before that I am a thinker. Unfortunate at times. My mind is constantly buzzing with questions and assumptions and judgements and randomness driving me batty after a while. The noise does not really stop unless I am listening to music or watching a movie–something to numb it. Something to drown out the constant drumming of thinking, thoughting, thinking….

This morning on the way to work my head was buzzing with thoughts from relationship crap to God to moving back home to getting a new job to losing weight. My head was swirling with noise and the only thing I could possibly think to do was to put on the headphones and turn up the music. After it all settled down, the only thought suffocating all of the others was do more and think less. Do. More. Say. More. Live. More. Think Less.

How often do we actually do? How often do we open our hearts and actually love? How often do we smile at a complete stranger or hold open a door or let someone in (both driving and emotionally I suppose)? How many times in the day do you think about doing something but talk yourself–or think yourself–out of it? How often do we just….do?

The Boy came to me yesterday evening and told me to pick him up late from school this week because he would be trying out for the track team. This morning when I wished him luck, he looked at me with all sincerity and said “I don’t need it. I’m gonna make it anyway. I’m already the fastest one out there.” And with that he closed the door and walked into the building. He is a doer. He believes. He sets his goal. And he does. He. Does. He doesn’t mull it over 900 times. He doesn’t craft a plan (a), (b), and (c). He sees, he believes, and he does.

I drove off with I Lived blaring in my ears, inspired by The Boy’s doing and decided to do more and think less. Life is so short…why waste it by being locked in your own head. Of course that does not mean jumping in with both feet every time an idea comes along, but so what if you do. At least you are doing…

~SM

Freestyle Friday: Baby….I Lived!

Music is the soundtrack to our lives. It doesn’t matter if it’s hip hop, classical, rock, r & b, neo soul…music is a universal language that can explain or enlighten or ignite in a way that nothing else can. For some it is the tune or the beat that gets the point across, but for me (majority of the time) it is the lyrics.

I have heard this song plenty of times but just this week I heard the song. It has given me life every day and I am pretty sure as I continue the journey, it will continue to do so. For those of you who have heard the song, you know what I’m talking about…for those of you who have not–take a listen to the words and I bet you will start looking at your journey a little differently.

~SM

Being Temporary

Everything for me is temporary. The fairytales–the Cinderella stories–stop being a way of life after a while. It is generally when something changes…a death, the end of a marriage, the loss of a child, the detour of a career….the rearranging of a life due to cataclysmic events causes one to look at life through the looking glass of temporary. Most everything is only meant for a specific time, thus creating space for tables to turn and growth to appear. It never really occurred to me, until recently, how much of life is temporary. It was……….freeing.

We are all held captive by the prospect of forever. When we are young, we think we will be young forever. When we are heart broken, we think it will last forever. When the storm comes, it feels like forever. Yet, when we reach that infamous forever marker, there’s the appearance of another path or another birthday or another growth spurt….and our faces get long. We never expected there not to be a forever. Realistically speaking, nothing….not one single solitary thing lasts always. God’s love aside, everything we encounter, from birth to death, is but a passing encounter.

I stood in the bathroom mirror washing my face and I noticed lines. Albeit they are probably undetectable to most, but to me they were glaring. I began pulling and repositioning my skin just to see what a small nip or tuck would do and I stopped as suddenly as I started. This, I thought, fades. It is only temporary.

At that moment, I realized the choice presented: I could tap into every 35-year-old-didn’t-quite-take-care-of-herself-to-the-best-of-her-ability flaw or I could be okay with the knowledge that nothing is permanent. I chose the latter.

I finished my routine, nodded in satisfaction, and shut off the light. I said my prayers and crawled into bed not thinking of my age or the state of a 36, 40 or 50 year old Sommer. I drifted off to sleep resting in the peace of the temporary. When you know that you know nothing lasts forever, peace abounds and you are able to drop the load of the expectations, rules and material things being dragged kicking and screaming into the future and just….be. What difference will I make? What risks will I take? What love can I give? Who can I hold or help? Where can I see? Those are the questions I drifted to sleep to….that’s the kind of temporary I want to be.

~SM

Changing Status

There. I said it. I have been keeping it close to the chest for a few days now, unsure of the reaction it would elicit (unsure of my own reaction).

It feels strange. Not that anything has changed per say, but just the fact that there is now another layer being added to our–uhh–The Us is an odd fit (saying the word ‘relationship’ when speaking of the romantic variety is hard to actually say…it gets stuck in my throat…it’s a work in progress).

For the past 5 months or so, Young Gun and I have been conversing on a friendly (but a little more than friendly) level. Butterflies, stolen flirty glances, and swift middle school kisses have floated in and out of our pretend relationship for a while. I made sure to keep all options open (as did he) and just simply enjoy the pretend. Funny thing about pretending–if you do it long enough, you are bound to start the real thing.

Quite honestly (despite the apparent inability to say the word ‘relationship’), I am happier. He does not expect me or want me to be anything other than myself. He totally digs my fro, prefers jeans, sneeks, and a naked face over 5″ heels and short skirts, and believes I can do whatever I put my mind to. When I told him about The Marathon, he didn’t double over in laughter for 10 minutes (yes…that actually happened to me before). When my hair is huge & ridiculously fro-ish, he gives me a high five and smiles. When he sees me in jeans and a tee shirt, it is like metal to a magnet. I can say weird stuff or laugh at terrible jokes or drag him to see awful chick flicks and he accepts it all. He constantly reminds me to not open the door for myself or carry things when he is around.  He knows which weekends are my free weekends without me ever saying a word. He is respectful of my children and the space I require for them. I. Am. Happier.

I am still riding this ride one day at a time. I am still just having fun. I am still just keeping pace. I am still putting focus where it is needed. There is no pressure to be anything other than myself; no pressure to do anything other than what I do; no pressure to go where I don’t normally go. He is simple. This is simple. We are simple. And after the long journey I had before, simple (and slow) is just fine by me. Now…about those wedding dresses….(NOT!)  😛

~SM