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FMS, “No Pain, No Gain”, & Another Reminder That Perspective Counts

the never ending library (Trinity College, Dublin)

The never ending library…
Image via DangerouslyIrrelevant.org

Last time I published a post, I wrote about recently being diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Before that, I tried to find out what was wrong through the usual method of self-diagnosis: search engines. To tell you the truth, I’m not any happier to be able to put a name to it, especially since there isn’t much known anyway. Now I’m digging through the entire library of the Internet (which is, of course, absolutely huge) to find information. Continue reading

No… I Wasn’t Eaten by Dragons, But Close!

Thar be dragons

The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated ~ Mark Twain

When I first started Life, It’s a Work in Progress, I had all these insane dreams of how things were going to go. For example, I was going to post twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, without fail. After all, I’d actually like to build a readership and everyone knows you have to post on a regular schedule to do that. Otherwise readers get upset and go elsewhere, right?

Right.

In fact, my current site data tells me visitors disappear on the days I don’t post and take a week or two to come back. So, overall, keeping a schedule was a darn good idea. Right? Right. But.

Ah, yes. The well worn, often used, much smudged “but,” followed quickly by “life happens.” Continue reading

Finding the Real “Me” in a Multitude of Faces

Pulled in all directions...

Have you ever felt pulled in more than one direction at the same time? Of course you have. You’re eating breakfast, really enjoying that egg and toast, and your four-year-old says, “Mommy, I broke it.” That’s all they have to say before your previously tasty breakfast might as well be day-old grass.

Congratulations. You’ve moved from “woman refueling her system to face a busy day” to “Most High Inquisitor, ferreting out ne’er do wells”.

As a parent, you get to play many parts: peacemaker, disciplinary, live jungle gym…After you’ve been a parent for awhile, switching back and forth across these many faces becomes as easy and natural as breathing. Continue reading

The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said…

At the end of the road less traveled... (Snake River, Wyoming, taken by Jahnelle Pittman)

‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,’ to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings…’

Lewis Carroll, The Walrus and the Carpenter

Poetry. The only thing that pulls more emotion from me is music. I love poetry and prose. The type of poetry I enjoy most rhymes. It has a beat to it – a staccato rhythm that beats with my heart, wakes it up and makes it feel. Poetry feeds emotion without the need of music; it’s pure, unadulterated language. Ah, to laugh, to love, to live – is poetry… Continue reading

Mom: Through a Daughter’s Eyes

Mom and Dad on their wedding day... the happy couple!

Mom and Dad on their wedding day… the happy couple!

It’s only been over the past few years that I started seeing my parents as people – mostly out of self-defense, I think.  I’m a 35-year-old daughter, living at home with my parents and trying to raise three kids. I’ve had to learn to bite my tongue where my parents and I disagree. In the process, I’ve also had to learn that… wow… my parents are people, too.

They have their own set of insecurities and fears, their own strengths and weaknesses. It’s amazing, really, that I never noticed these things before.

I talk about my dad a lot. I mean, anyone who walks into our house automatically knows who rules the roost. He is the ultimate king of the castle, without a doubt. I’ve looked up to my dad for years. He’s been my teacher through much of life’s difficulties; I’ve learned a lot from him, both good and bad. I think it’s natural, then, that when I started seeing my parents as people, my dad was the first one I learned more about.

Lately, however, I’ve been much more interested in my mother. We never talked much when I was younger, so learning about my mom has been a surprising experience. Looking into the past and “meeting” the person she is now, I’m realizing that much of what I learned about being a mom and a wife has come from her. I’m a lot more like my mother than I’ve ever admitted… and I’m okay with that. Continue reading

A Mother’s Fears – Hope, Love and What If…

Nesting DoveI’m nesting. There’s no other word for it. For years, I’ve swallowed my OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) tendencies in order to get along with my children (otherwise, I’d spend all day yelling at them for things being out of place). Now, I crave order. A place for everything and everything in its place.

I crave the smells of a clean home. I crave the ability to spend time with my children. For the first time in my adult life, I fight with trying not to throw work into the wind and play with the kids.

I love them, you see. They’re so very important to me, and I’m watching them grow from the sidelines. I want to spend my days nurturing, raising and teaching them. How frustrating. My life – the dreary, always busy, always working life that has been my comfort zone for so long – is changing, and I want to embrace those changes fully. – And I can’t. Continue reading

The Gift of a Son’s Love

My son, the giant

My son, the giant

I don’t talk much about my 15-year-old, D. Most of his story is his to tell. Yet, out of all the miracles that God has performed in my life, he’s one of the biggest.

When he was five, D went to spend the weekend with his dad and didn’t come back home. To make a very long story short, I didn’t see him again for 9 years.  I worried about him – not knowing how he was doing, not knowing what he was going through, hoping that everything was all right and that he was living a good life. Continue reading

We Live In a World of Perception – Can We Change Our Reality?

“We live in a world of perception,” my dad says, leaning back in his chair across from my younger, 24-year-old self. “For example,” he points at the kitchen table, “what color would you say that table is?”

I stare down at the table. It’s obviously brown. He obviously has some point he’s trying to make. –But I’m young and stubborn, and I’ll be darned if I’ll let him make it. “It’s light brown.” There. It’s not just brown; it’s light brown.

He sits up and leans forward, bushy eyebrows narrowed over sharp, blue eyes. “You’re right. It’s light brown. But,” he snaps, holding a finger up (pause for affect), “are you sure you’re seeing the same color of light brown I am?”
Continue reading

Painful Moments and a Child’s Tears

All the love in the world...

I started the section “Catharsis” as a catch-all of things that I need to get out, and hopefully make some sense of along the way. I’m hoping that one of these days in the future, I can look back through them and say, “Thank you, Father, for getting me through that one.”

I’m hoping that I can see with clear eyes– that I can look at the experiences, memories and painful moments I write now. Maybe then, I can see what I’ve done wrong and need to change, how I can grow to be better than I am now; more than I am now. I’m hoping, because something has to give; somehow I have to learn, because the consequences of not learning are too painful. Not just for me, but for my loved ones as well. Continue reading

Battling Anger and the Fight for Control – Who Wins?

English: Angry cat

That's. Mine

Anger and I have been friends for years. We’re comfortable with each other, you might say. We move in the same circles. I’ve tried to “get a grip” several ways – it seems like a million of them -, and few seem to really work.

Battling anger with kids in the house is a fight especially full of danger. It’s so easy to explode. You wake up in the morning, full of optimizism and you think, “Today, it’s going to be different. Today, I’m not going to get angry. I’m going to take a deep breath, no matter what, and stay calm.” Continue reading