How Do You See Things?

You know how sometimes you are so… off keel, that no matter how hard you try, nothing ever seems to work the right way? Nothing anyone says to you helps, in fact it only serves to push you closer to the edge of screaming than before? No matter how hard you try to get everything on your to-do list done, but so many other people or things force their way to the top of your list, to the point that, at the end of the day you feel like the white rabbit in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland saying, “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get?” What if all it takes to get through those times is a new perspective?

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It took a moment of honest truth from a friend to make me realize that what I’m seeing might not be what’s really going on. Is it possible that I’m misinterpreting everything? Okay, yes, its very possible. But the realization is not without cost because now I have to remind myself that,  what I hear is not necessarily what is being said. It’s like trying to break a bad habit in myself… A near impossible feat.

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An artist can create perspective with the slash of a pencil, charcoal, or brush, changing how we see something, making it seem farther away, or nearer than it actually is. If you let things build higher and higher in your mind, eventually it’s going to topple like the tower in the game Jenga, and when it topples, it’ll take you with it. Its time to step back and look at it again with that new perspective, Its time to take control of your own life again.

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Cheers for 2015!

I did it. I have blown the sides of my comfortable little box wide open. I ended last year with the release of my first book, a novella that, while not a best seller, I can take pride in the fact that I wrote my first book, and am currently working on another two.

Beyond that, and wow, is that crazy for me to even say?!, is that I have followed a dream and travelled to Ireland. I’m actually sitting in the hotel pub! My holiday here ends on Tuesday before I venture into London and then onto France to visit with my brother and his family.

I wrote back in June (Really? That long ago??) that I was going to start living boldly (you can read about it here). I gave a list of things that I wanted to accomplish, and while I never made it to the dance classes, I did make it out of the country. This is, in my mind, a much bigger leap in the “live boldly” pool.

What can I try and challenge myself with this year? Of course theres the obligatory “lose weight,” “exercise more,” “Get healthy,” routine that I pledge to do every year, but never get around to doing… Maybe a bit of reverse psychology is needed? This year I resolve to do nothing healthy, eat pure crap and laze around all the time?

This year I will try to respect myself more. I am who I am, nothing more, nothing less. I can’t expect people to like me if I don’t like myself. How can I like myself if I don’t respect myself?

This year I’m going to do at least three things that will better me. Maybe learn something? Train for, and complete, something? I don’t know, but it has to be three things.

This year I’m going to be a better Mom, and a better daughter. I let the events of early last year control so much of my time. It’s been almost a year; it’s time to move on.

I’m sure there’re more things that will pop into my brain as the year goes; we’ll see what happens in 2015.

Love Remembers

Does anyone else go through waves of things to say? I’ll hit a point where I have so much that I want to write down and share, and sometimes I do, but then there are other times when I don’t. And then there are times when I wish I had something to say, but my my mind is nothing more than the shifting sand dunes of the Sahara Desert. Wait a second, if this is my blog, and I have stuff that I want to say, then why would I want to sit on it, not share it when so much of my post is unfiltered and personal? That’s a good question, and one I am still working on. I’ll try to explain here in a bit.

 

This week is bound to be a stress filled, emotional, anxiety driven week for this gal. Today, November 10, is my parents 51 wedding anniversary… Another in this shitty year of firsts that my family is dealing with after the loss of my Mama. Daddy has gone back to Georgia to be with her mother, and to visit Mama’s grave. I have to stop there because I’m now blurry and teary eyed.

 

I think I’m better now? I guess we will see as I keep writing. The stress and anxiety part of the week for me comes on Tuesday when that little dream I decided to make come true when I wrote about it (see here). That dream, and my first ever novella called Cold Heat goes live for sale then. Will keep writing, I have more stories inside me that I want to tell, and I know that I will improve with every word, paragraph, and story that I write.

 

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The last thing about this week? Well, I flip to a new number on my odometer on Friday… Yep, it clicks over to to 44. I’m not sad about this (or not too much, anyway) because the alternative to aging is not. I only wish I didn’t suddenly see so much evidence of the wear and tear of the years spread across my face.

 

There you have it. Until next time 😉

 

 

 

Dreamscapes

When I think back on everything that has happened in my life so far during 2014, so much of it feels like a dream, the very definition of surreal. I’ve learned a lot about myself and life the past ten months, often finding myself wondering if everything is really real, or some crazy, vivid dream that is the effect of a bad dinner.

 

The year started in shock with a breast cancer diagnosis on my mother, followed too quickly by the disease fighting harder than was anticipated and the loss of Mama on February 28. The months following her passing were a huge struggle for all of us, but I’ve learned that I can survive the grief. No, its not always easy… There are times when I want to pick up the phone and call her to tell her about something or other; and other times when scrolling through my Facebook contacts and stumbling across her name…

 

I left a career of ten years, opting to take care of myself and find a job that I enjoy. I look at what is happening in education right now and, while some may think I took the cowards way out, I learned with Mama’s death that I had to take care of myself, and the first step in that was to leave an environment that had become toxic to me. I’m now extremely happy in my current position with this company. A worthwhile leap of faith.

 

I wrote a book. A dream that I have wanted to do since middle school, and here I am, 17 days before my 44 birthday and I finally did it. So my debut novella, COLD HEAT by LeeAnne White, will be available for pre-order on November 1, and it will go live on November 11. A very busy birthday week for me.

 

Finally, I’ll be crossing another item from the bucket list. I’ll be taking a once in a lifetime trip (hopefully I’ll make it back there again with my daughter) to Ireland, London, and France for the New Year… I suspect there will be a lot of blogging about this trip (maybe even a story or two!).

 

So, please, if this is a dream, don’t wake me.

Hell hath no fury like a…

…Like a trainer scorned. Forget about the whole “woman scorned” thing, I stepped back into the gym, AKA Dungeon, on Friday to meet with my long ignored trainer, AKA Sadist, AKA Satan. I should have known something was up. Oh, he gave no easily recognized clues, but I should have picked up on the happy malevolence that was him.

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It started easily enough, warming up on the treadmill for 10 minutes of walking, getting the blood pumping a bit faster, warming up my neglected muscles. You all know the drill whether you are an gym rat, or a gym ghost (like me). There I am, happily plodding along on the treadmill, thinking various thoughts when he asks if I am ready to roll. I should never have said “yes” to that question…

Satan leads me into his den -er, office, where he announces that we are starting from scratch with me, need to get me back to the motivated, on track client that I once was, and then he cores the unspeakable… He pulls out the tape measure and the body fat thingy (*not its clinical name) and tells me to hop on the scale.

Efffffffffffffffffffffffff.

I knew what the scale would say, I had been to the doctor two days before that, so I walked out and walked back in, giving him that number. He wrote it down on the new, clean “progress” page, and then went to flipping back in his book to where I was before I basically quit on myself. I had ballooned all the way up to where I had been, plus an additional 20 pounds. You can see the progress I had made here.

After the weigh in and body fat analyst, he pulled out out the dreaded tape measure. Yeah, um, let’s just say my month of horrors began a few days early. It’s humbling to see myself reduced back to numbers again; numbers that I promised myself I would stay away from. What was even more distressing was the fact that I have let myself go so much that the workout had me huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf and sweating like a newbie at a chili pepper eating contest.

The question, or trick, is how to re-motivate myself? I know that it’s about my health, the very health I’ll need to watch my children eventually graduate college and grace me with grand babies. Ive looked throughout my home searching for a genie, or some “miracle fat cure” that would make this time around different from the last too-many-to-counts.

I’ll figure it out,  or at least try to. There are a lot of potholes on this road that I’ve laid in front of me, I just need to be better at dodging them.

josh