What is YOUR value?

Several months ago, after a particularly emotional day of thinking, I wrote a post about the value of me. I honestly never gave it much thought again after that post, it succeeded in opening my own eyes a little bit more about myself, was therapeutic, and then I was done with it. It was off my radar like the swipe of an eraser on a white board. For, well, I was going to say “whatever reason” but that’s not accurate, I’m just not entirely sure of the reason, that post popped into my head last night after listening to a friend who had had a particularly bad day at work and home.

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This friend is always there for everyone at work, listening to them, appreciating them, valuing everyone at work… Yesterday, however, she left work at the end of the day feeling like a failure, so beat down, under appreciated, and completely unvalued.

Let me tell you something, whether I know you or not. Whether I know everything you are facing in life or not. You are important. There is a reason you were put on Earth, sometimes we never know that reason ourselves, but I guarantee someone does.

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Value is defined as the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.

In our lives, in the end, what really matters? Is it the amount of money you made, or saved? No. Its, in my opinion, the lives that you touched, the hearts that you affected. That is the purpose of everyone. The people who love you, even at what you think is your worst… Everything about you matters. It’s unique. You matter.

Is it scary to feel unvalued? Unappreciated? To feel like you can’t face another day of the same ‘ole, same ‘ole? Hell, yes! But you are strong enough, you may just need to dig a little deeper sometimes to tap into that strength.

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Just promise me, no matter how hard the battle, how deep the fear; no matter how bad the day, always remember at least one person who loves you for you. The important, appreciated, beautiful, valued you.

364 Days

Dear Mom,

It’s been a year without you now. People are right, grieving does get easier with time. I have quit reaching for the phone to call you whenever something good, funny, sad, or frustrating happens in my life. I know that you’re not going to be there on the other end of the phone anymore, a habit that took me months to break.  I know that the last thing you would have wanted was for me and Dad to stop living, and to be honest, for a while we did. It took several months for us to start living again in stages.

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My first step was quitting the job that had ceased to make me happy, the one that was slowly draining the life from me. I am so much happier with my current job, and making slow and steady progress there. It had been too long since I was happy with myself at work.

My second step was following one of my dreams and writing a book; I hope to God I’m not done with writing yet…

The third step was travel. I finally made it to Ireland, and fell in love with a country and its people. I am ready to go back tomorrow if I could…

The fourth step was letting Daddy know that its okay to live, to create new memories and (hopefully) make new friends, try new things.

While this year has been a challenge of adjusting to the new reality, I did it, and I know you’d be happy for it.

I miss you. I love you.

–Me

 

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 😉

 

 

 

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