I am Worthy - First Steps

 

Setbacks, delays, and obstacles are part of life. We all know this. But when life seems to be nothing but constant ‘no’, when all we seem to have is negative, then it wears on us, stresses us and erodes us emotionally and mentally. It makes us feel worthless and less worthy of our dreams.

How do we stop listening and struggling from the negative and setbacks and get our lives back on track? How do we use all the negatives life has piled on us into something positive?

How do we turn frustration into motivation? How do we turn around after constant blows to our dreams?

Four years ago, I’d planned a new life. I thought I had it all figured out. Unfortunately, I trusted people I shouldn’t have. People who had proven to be less than reliable but I accepted what they told me anyway. I turned to people I trusted for input and advice and was ignored. At one point I was told not to bother them because their problems were so much more pressing and trying than mine. That I was being selfish and self-centered. That still stings deep.

As I was coming to grips with the realization that my new life was falling apart, the pandemic started. I made new plans but the shutdowns and lockdowns seriously hampered my efforts. And now, I’m worse off and dealing with new bureaucracies to get started again.

The loss of my dreams combined with my father’s death brought me very low. On top of that, I had to make a very difficult decision to put my mental health over toxic relationships.

Thing is – I did everything I’d been told I should do. And lost everything.

 

One video call with a friend from high school was enough to change my thinking from negative to positive. She might read this and scratch her head, wondering what she said. It was as much what she said as the simple act of reconnecting with a friend.

It made me realize that there was more to my life than I’d been letting myself see. Talking with her, recalling good moments, having someone listen without passing judgment, and listening to her, changed my attitude. Or at least started to.

I faced my first problem – dealing with VA bureaucracy. I started reaching out to groups for advice, then contacted people I’d served with. When people you haven’t seen in thirty-plus years remember something that happened to you, you realize you mattered to them. That they’re willing to help you can be an amazing shot of morale.

I followed the old saying ‘if you can’t beat’em, join’em.’

I turned my frustration into motivation to find ways to use what I’ve learned to help other veterans. By speaking out about my problems, I realized I wasn’t alone. There are thousands of veterans going through similar experiences and trying to deal with procedures that seem more to hinder than help us. Now I'm applying for jobs where I can do something. Maybe I can make things easier or faster for the next person.

I also started connecting more with authors and readers in the genres and formats I’m publishing in. Yes, it helps my stories get noticed but even more, I learn new ways of reaching readers and what they want in stories.

Then I realized I need to take care of myself. I know better but the past few months I’ve let the depression drag me down and slacked off.

I know I need to walk and do yoga everyday. But I hadn’t been. So I started doing it again. Slowly at first because I’ve learned I can’t jump in full speed. My body doesn’t like that.

But walking in 10-20 minute clips followed by three Sun Salutation rounds is something my body can handle. What my mind and heart crave to center and rebalance. It leaves me calmer and more energized. Why hadn’t I been doing it? I didn’t think it mattered. No, I didn’t think I mattered.

 

Something else I’ve realized – everything I’m doing to get my life back to where I want to be is okay. Even if people don’t like it for whatever reason. I'm doing my own research, asking questions and making plans. For me.

I’m not aiming for blissful paradise where all my dreams come true at once. I’m aiming for being focused, finding a place where I’m able to help others, be appreciated and supported, and taking care of myself.

I am channeling my frustration energy into things that, hopefully, will turn my life around.

I’m remembering that staying connected is necessary. I’m an introvert not an island.

I’m learning that protecting my mental health has to be a higher priority.

Most of all, I’m accepting that I have worth.

After years of feeling worthless, that’s a revelation.

 

 

Transition Generation - Part One

I am part of a generation that got caught in the middle. For the most part, our parents were raised with specific gender roles. But when we came of age, society had changed significantly. And now? Trying to explain to teenagers what we went through, what our mothers dealt with, is like trying to describe an elephant to someone who can’t see.

For example – I can recall, in the mid-1970s mind you, only being allowed to go half-court while playing basketball in PE. It was the generally accepted opinion that girls couldn’t do such strenuous physical exertion without causing damage to us. ‘Us’ as in our reproductive organs. I also remember the earth-shattering court case that determined girls could play sports and had to be given the same opportunities as the boys.

As soon as possible, my parents signed me up for softball. My mother coached the second year. I wasn’t exactly talented at the game. Even my mother knew to put me in right field. But it was fun and my first experience at being part of a team.

It was even more ground-breaking when women began competing in marathons and running longer distances in the Olympic Games. There were debates on the long-term effects it would have their bodies. Again, the focus was on the 'toll of such strenuous activities on the reproductive system’ (my quotes to paraphrase the arguments). The rhetoric was fiercely contentious and, honestly, rather intimidating. In high school, I thought girls who played team tennis, soccer and softball were amazing and courageous. I envied them for doing what I didn’t dare.

I was one of the ones caught between two societies – the one of the past and the one of the future. I was seriously conflicted in what to do. Looking back, I wish I’d tried out for tennis, maybe softball. I loved tennis and was fairly decent at it so I might have made the team. Maybe. Like with softball, the talent of my classmates shone when given the chance. And they weren’t just athletes. The girls at the top of my class were swimmers, tennis and soccer stars as well as playing basketball and softball. They were magnificent at paving the way for girls to be scholar-athletes. They showed that, given the chance, girls had competitive drive and could do so much more than society thought they could.

Thing is – we had the chance. Something teenagers now don’t think twice about was a revolutionary event. We were ‘foot soldiers’ in changing society and had no idea. Try to describe that to girls now? Or even women who were in high school in the eighties and nineties and they look at you as if you’re crazy.

I look back and I’m truly amazed at how far things have come. Does progress still need to be made? Absolutely.

Yes, I would like to thank those who fought for girls to have the chance to prove themselves. Trailblazers like the indomitable Billie Jean King who took on men at their level. And beat them.

Most of all, I would like to express my admiration for those girls who seized the opportunity and played. Court battles are tough and hard-fought but it’s those who act after that truly make it last.

The ‘Transition Generation’ deserves its due. 

 

Putting Humpty-Dumpty back together

Welcome to Abby’s Nook! Wherein a woman whose life fell apart tries to put it and herself back together again. Rather like Humpty-Dumpty, I fell off the wall. All the horses and men, and all the people around me, have been giving me advice and telling me how to get myself back on track.

But lately, I’ve realized something very important – I’m the only one who can do that. It’s something I have to figure out. And what they’ve been telling me won’t entirely work. Some of it will, of course, but a lot of it won’t.

For one simple reason – they’re not listening to what I’m saying in return. Well, I’m sure they would say they are but since nothing I’m saying is what they want to hear, it’s wrong.

Sooo – I’ve realized that this Humpty-Dumpty girl is going to have to figure it out herself.

I have to figure out how to deal with the past – the trauma, the mistakes, and the good parts – and go forward.

I have a plan too! 😊

It’s a fairly simple one too. I’ve planned out the following – mental and physical health, finances (ugh!), writing (yeah!), and goals to get me where I want to be in 50 weeks. I can already figure out where the most likely hitches will take place and where I’ll need to make adjustments. I know I can't be ready for everything but - this time? - I'm actually looking ahead to see problems. Trust me, that's a new one for me.

The ‘set-in-stone’ dates so far are book releases. I have a book series that will start releasing on 4 February – The Society. A very powerful organization has been working behind the scenes, pulling strings in government halls, manipulating the economy and, when necessary, removing people who get in the way. Their goal is continental domination. They plan generations in advance, marrying their children off – and something goes horribly wrong. The Ruthless shows just how far the Directors will go to have control of The Society, and the continent. Blood is everything. And disobedience is not allowed. 

Sooo – every week I’ll be posting as I work on pulling my life, my writing and myself together. It will cover what I’m doing, thinking and – of course – snippets of my books.

Come along and enjoy the ride!

2020 - Pfft. I'm moving on to 2021!

 

Happy New Year!

No, I’m not trying to skip over the last three months of 2020. Although, if anyone has a time machine? Maybe jump us to a few days before Christmas? 

For those in federal government, the ‘new year’ starts on 1 October. September is a month full of deadlines for spending, closing out files and getting things finished as well as deadlines for putting in place budgets, setting up files and plans for the upcoming year. (Not all that different from what everyone else more or less does in December/January.)

At first I didn’t quite understand the compulsions to go through my files, to finally start tackling boxes in the garage. Then I realized that it was the habits from being a government employee. I wasn’t working but the ‘need’ was still there.

A few days going through files cut the paper in them by half! In that process, I sorted through all the articles and bits and pieces I had on yoga, meditation and everything about them. The past several years I have torn out home yoga sequences for different emotions and needs – grief to creativity, anger to calm, routines for specific areas of the body and times of hormones. Reviewing those, I realized I had my October plan laid out.

Actually, looking back, I think I’ve been building up to this all year. Honest – it wasn’t that planned out! I am not that organized or forward-planning. Yet. Mm, I think that will be my sole resolution in three months.

My October Plan - 

I’ve been walking for months. Starting with Leslie Sansone either on YouTube or DVDs – a mile at first, slowly building up to where I would celebrate the weekend with a five-mile walk on Saturday. During the heat of summer, I either went outside early or did a 3 or 4-mile DVD inside. As things have finally started cooling, I put the headphones on and head outside soon after 8ish and go for 45 minutes.

After walking, I do yoga stretches or an upper body workout. Again, nothing really planned out. I drank more water, much less alcohol (if any) and it all showed in my body. I mean, hello! – I’ve definition in my thighs, those lovely lines along my shoulders, less jiggly arms, and I have a waist! Definitely didn’t have any of that back in January! Plus, clothes I was wearing months ago are literally sliding off my hips. Okay, I still have a bit of a tummy – the mama pouch from three pregnancies. That’s okay though. I also still have the sons!

Now, I’m ready to ‘add on’ with the yoga sequences I’ve been pulling from issues of Yoga Journal for years. Today I’ll be reviewing them, as well as the ‘anatomy’ sections to make sure I don’t injure myself. I’m not going to set up a definite ‘today I do creativity, this day I’ll do hips and low back’. I’m going to listen to my body. How is the back feeling? Hips okay? How are the hormones behaving? Is the body raring to go or need to take it a bit easy? Does the mind need an energetic release or something calm? If the mind and body pull towards more than one sequence, then I’ll do more than one. Or maybe even pull out a DVD or a sequence on line and let someone else do the thinking.

You might be thinking – Abby, not everyone can go tripping out their front door for a 45-minute walk or spend an hour on a yoga mat. Yup, you’re right. Make it several smaller walks. Ten or fifteen minutes as a break in the morning and afternoon. In the evening, while watching a show, walk in place and do stretches during the commercials. Fit it in. That’s how I got going. And most of the yoga sequences are short. Perhaps one in the morning after a ten-minute walk to wake-up? Another sequence when you get home to relax?

Exercise, moving, doesn’t have to be done all at once. It’s nice, yes, to be able to check it all off our to-do list, but sometimes we can’t do that. So, do it bit-by-bit. Ten minutes of walking every couple hours during an eight-hour workday is four thousand steps for the average person! (I’m short so it’s a bit fewer for me.) See what I mean? You can fit it in and it adds up. Add the yoga while coffee is brewing and before going to bed and – ta-da! 😊

I’ll be posting to Instagram and Facebook, adding photos, lists of the poses and links. YogaJournal is a treasure trove of sequences and there are many knowledgeable yogis on the web and social media. I love following Rodney Yee and Colleen Saidman Yee for their knowledge and approach. Women’s Health also has a wonderful book about yoga with sequences for just about everything, with photos on how to do the poses. Plus health and fitness magazines like Shape, Self, Health and more are increasingly adding yoga to their content and have great ideas with many focused on athletes at a competitive level rather than those of us with physical issues. Check with your doctor if you haven’t recently and see if there are any poses you should avoid or modify. I can’t do headstands because of my neck and many inverted poses are problematic as well.

The year has been tough on all of us in ways we can’t fully describe. I’m going to spend October taking care of my mind and body so it can start to recover and heal, strengthen and prepare for the future.

Finding a Way to Move

 I feel better when I move. I don't always want to. I don't always feel like it. Most of the time, I do because I know that once I get up off the couch, I feel better in my head and my body, well, mostly my back. The hips and feet are trying to figure out a way for me to walk on my hands, but my arms and shoulders are busy laughing, so, yeah, that's not happening.

Anywho -- most days, I walk and do yoga. Those days there's less ache in the joints, in my neck, and my brain is calmer. Figuring out what worked and what didn't took a while.

I used to run. Well, okay - with my short legs, I could go as fast as I could and it would be jogging for most people. I jogged. Before I joined the Air Force, I didn't. I did for a few months in college to beat the infamous 'Freshman Fifteen', then tried every crazy thing going around to keep weight off. Except smoking and drugs. Nope. Never did those. But in the Air Force? Running was part of the deal. So I ran. Because I had to. Then, after turning my world upside-down and leaving my ex with 3 little boys, I rediscovered running. And fell in love with it. Two, two and a half miles, along hills, and it was the tonic I needed. Just me and Journey wailing in my headphones as my feet pounded along the sidewalks. I lost weight, cleared my mind (sort of) and kept everyone around me happy because others saw me running and figured I was fine.

I thought I was. I was good at telling myself everything was all right. That I had everything under control. I didn't. But I'd put the headphones on, tie my sneakers and fake it. Wheel In the Sky still brings back memories.

Fast forward a couple decades, more or less (okay, more). I can't run. Can't jog. Can't even do high impact aerobics. I argued with my body for years. All of a sudden, I wanted to jog, do the high impact stuff. I pushed to get through all the exercise programs that were out there. And could barely walk. Seriously, there were times when my dad would look at me and say I looked like I was thirty years older than him. This coming from a man who'd had several operation on both knees and a hip! 

A chiropractor took Xrays and, with my oldest who wanted to know what was wrong with his mother (physically!) before he left for Marine Bootcamp, and it wasn't pretty. You know those plastic models of the spine in doctors' offices? The Doc picked up his, gestured at the Xray and said, 'If I made this look like your back and neck, it would break. I don't know how you're not constantly in tears." My son looked at him - she is. What does she do to stop hurting?' 

No running. No jogging. Absolutely no high impact. My lower back and my neck couldn't take anymore. I fought it. Kept arguing, sort of, with my body. It took a few more years for my mind to accept that verdict. So began my quest to find something I could do. Something I could enjoy, something I would keep doing. At first, I was 'ugh. There's nothing out there!'

Oh, I was so wrong! So, so wrong. Besides walking, which I absolutely love - how easy could it be? Sneakers tied, headphones in, hat on head and out the door I go! There is yoga which I'm still exploring - it seems as if every time I open YogaJournal there's something new. But there is still more! Callanectics and BalletBeautiful - both absolutely amazing for tightening my body in the shortest time ever! Dancing - all sorts. I love bellydance - I don't even try to do the headrolls, and keep things slow until I've done the routines a few times to build up my strength, but the core workout is incredible. And upper body? Do snake arms for ten minutes. Does wonders for loosening the upper back muscles. And Zumba! Oh, I love my Zumba. Best thing since my Air Force Basic training instructor for making me mix up my right foot from my left foot. Lol. And there's always the 'crank up the music and go dancing around the house for twenty minutes or so' routine to lift the mood - I start with 'Old Time Rock'n'Roll' and let loose. 

So, if your doctor says there are things you can't do, then turn it around and say 'what can I do?' And start asking - walking, yoga, dancing, swimming (I didn't mention it earlier because I don't have access to a pool). There is something you can do. Even if you can only do a few minutes a day at first, and add on slowly. It's a step. It's YOU moving where you weren't before and that's a good thing. 

Controlling Clutter helped me start getting control

There's a popular saying that I once fully, gleefully and joyfully embraced - a cluttered desk/messy area or everything out on display is the sign of genius/work being done, etc. The past several years though, I've realized that, for me, clutter is a distraction from what I need to be doing. What I should be doing. What needs to be done for dreams to come true. 

Every now and then, the mess (because that's really what it was) would get too much and I would go on a whirl of sorting, tossing, cleaning and snapping at anyone who put anything down on what I'd just cleared off. (Kids, cats - didn't matter but they soon learned!) 

Bad habits are hard to break until you simply decide 'enough is enough'. As I started my journey five years ago, I didn't know where to start. Everything was so out-of-control, such a mess everywhere I looked - at home, at work, inside and outside, and it was frustrating because there was so much that I couldn't do anything about. So I started looking at what I could affect. I started with me. 

I literally came home one day, closed the door and leaned against it, looking through my small apartment. Naturally, this disruption in my 'home' routine upset the cats because their needs weren't immediately attended to. So once they were happy, I went back to the door, took a deep breath, and thought about my routines. What did I use the most? What did I love to see and brought a good emotion to my heart? What brought a negative feeling to me? What would make things simpler and more straight-forward? 

The first thing I realized was that to put my coat and outdoor shoes away, I had to walk through the apartment to the coat closet. I might take my boots off, but then they started a pile at the front door. Which lead to a bigger mess. I found an accordion-style peg rack, nailed it up by the door and brought the coat I wore most to work, my rain slicker and the sweatshirt I liked to wear for walking and put those up. Ordering a simple bamboo two-shelf rack, I put the shoes under the pegged coats, found a basket for an umbrella, scarf and gloves and moved on. 

Moving into the living area (two steps from the door), I picked up each item to determine which pile it went into. Photos of my sons went into the positive pile first. A favorite candle holder, a small basket that held the remotes (which was quickly cleared out of the junk that had found its way there), and so on. Many items that were simply 'out' found new homes. Except for the one I was reading, all books went back to their shelves. Notebooks, knickknacks, baskets - all returned to their place or put in a closet. I studied everything I had up on the walls and my eyes didn't know where to look first. Too much! All but a couple things came down. Then the cats helpfully made sure I noticed the next big task - the magazines. 

I love magazines. I had so many subscriptions! Yet I hadn't read any in several months. I wasn't too busy - I plopped my butt on the couch a couple hours a night or on the weekends. The glossy things were spilling out of the baskets - which is how the cats knocked them over, covering the floor space I'd cleared. I knew sorting through that would take some time and preparation. Yes, I made a deal out of that! lol But it did pay off - first, I sorted them - fitness, beauty/fashion, home/cooking, gardening, sports, news. The sports subscriptions I switched over to my youngest son and canceled the news which I wasn't reading at all. The rest were put in order - older to newest. Knowing I had at least six categories, I ordered multi-colored folders, a small filing cabinet, a mini stapler and a box of staples. Everything would arrive on the weekend. 

While waiting, I organized my writing area. Okay, that was the next day because by then it was bedtime. But, by the time the folders, shoe rack and everything else arrived, I had finished the living area, zipped through my writing corner and reorganized the dining area which was actually dedicated to the cats.

 A glass of wine, sports on tv, and I settled on the floor surrounded by my stacks of magazines and supplies. 

I checked the contents, went to articles that interested me, tore them out and stapled the pages together. No reading! That would come later. Some magazines had no pages torn out while others nearly every page was gone. I made a note of that on my list. All weekend I did that. And realized that many subscriptions were holdovers from years ago when my interests were different. My attitudes had changed, but I hadn't completely left everything behind. Several went on the list to be canceled. By Sunday night, I had dumped the magazines in the complex dumpster and had two empty magazine baskets. Well, until the cats discovered they made excellent ambush positions. 

The next few days I went through the articles, kind of reading, but mostly refining the sorting. Exercise was broken into cardio, weight-training, yoga, gear, etc. Beauty into skin care and cosmetics. Fashion into seasons and caring. Etc. Then everything went into folders and the folders into the new file cabinet. I didn't want to have gone through all that work (and money spent) to leave it at that. So I made a point of going through the folders a few minutes a night. Even a couple articles was fine. Again, I tracked which articles I saved or tossed and the magazines they came from. If articles repeated information, I kept the one from the magazine I'd pulled the most pages from. 

Gradually, I weeded through the box. I didn't devote all my time to that. Once started, I went through the rest of the apartment. Kitchen, hall closets, bathroom. I dreaded doing my bedroom closet! I'll take you through those treks later. The cats supervised and helped, keeping my company every step of the way. 

The end result? First, coming home was simpler. Coat and hat off, boots or shoes off, slippers on (unless a cat had moved them), backpack down on the small table. I cut my magazine subscriptions in half. Yeah, I had that many! And still had many coming in, but it's a process that I was starting. Two years ago, I went through the magazines again and reduced the number to six that reflect where I am in life and where I want to go. Every couple weeks, I pull out a folder of articles and go through them, as I sip tea and listen to calming music - a further step in life from the wine and sports. (although I do enjoy a glass and game now and then)

Clearing through magazines might sound like a small step, but if you gathered all of them together, you might be surprised at how much space they take up with no one reading them. Accomplishing that, choosing a couple favorites, simplifies life. When you go to read something, you know it's a subject you currently enjoy or are genuinely interested in. 

For me, having a few favorite things out, instead of covering every flat surface or wall, is calming. It is restful for my mind and eyes when I put my feet up and pull out a folder. Or simply curl up with my favorite book. 

New Way of tackling Dark Days

 The weeks between Labor Day weekend and Columbus weekend are always hard for me. I'm not sure if it would be classified as post-traumatic stress or not. I've always associated that with soldiers dealing with combat situations. And as I come from a family of soldiers, on both parents' sides, who have dealt with it, I'm definitely not wanting to imply that what I've gone through is close to a grandfather surviving the Battle of the Bulge, a father spending a year in Vietnam or a brother who went through multiple deployments to Iraq. Yet, as my oldest recently reminded me, it was my father who once said, in front of my brothers and male cousins - she's the bravest and the strongest of us. Daddy wasn't one for handing out praise lavishly, beyond a clap on the shoulder and a 'well done' or 'good job.' So his words that day staggered me. I close my eyes and I can feel his hand on my shoulder, hear the emotion in his voice as his fingers squeezed gently. Daddy understood what I'd escaped, leaving with only my sons and little else. 

But he didn't know all of it. I'm sure he guessed. But he never asked. I think, like most fathers, he didn't want to know all of it. Know what his little girl had gone through? What someone else had done to her? Even now, if he could, I don't think I would tell him after all these years. More than two decades and the nightmares still haunt me.

They are worse the next eight weeks. The last eight weeks before Daddy came. Before my legal separation went into effect. The last eight weeks during which my ex did everything he could think of to get me to stay. Like a pendulum, the moods swung to extremes. He pulled in his family to help. Their words only solidified my determination. Telling your daughter-in-law that no man will want to marry you and raise another man's sons? Like I want to get married again after this? Even his mother's pastor. Um, sorry. Telling a woman already in hell that she risks going to hell? Not a good persuasive argument. 

People who saw me then might have thought I looked perfectly normal. I dressed up, smiled and chatted as if everything had always been fine. I felt numb and hollow inside. Even as I started to wake up, returning to college to get my bachelor's, working, focusing on my sons' activities (if you have sons, one word - soccer. Trust me) But still, inside, I wasn't settled. Returning to my parents', it took months for me to handle being in a room with a man if my father or brothers weren't there. I fled as quickly as I could. Slowly, slowly, I pulled myself somewhat back to normal.

But for years, I suppressed the memories. I don't know what to call it. Temporary amnesia? No idea. But then they came flooding back after ten years. Once back out, I couldn't shove them back in the box. I felt like I was on a constant emotional rollercoaster while trying to keep a serene facade. As long as I was constantly busy, my mind couldn't make me think about the past. That was fine during the days. But nights? I'd stay up reading, listening to music. Anything to keep from falling asleep. 

The weeks from Labor Day, when I decided to leave, to Columbus Weekend, when Daddy came and picked up my sons and myself - those were the hardest. Let's just say I would stock up on boxes of wine as if I was having tailgate parties every weekend. Parties of one, but the salesclerks didn't know.

Because of recent financial difficulties, I've had to move in with my oldest son. He remembers more of those days than his brothers. He may remember the emotions more than actual actions, but he still has more memories than I would wish for him. He came up with something else - you couldn't defend yourself then. Let's make sure you can now. Maybe that will help.

A bit of background - my oldest is a former Marine. Since he was five, he has studied (when my finances allowed it) martial arts. Before Bootcamp, he had just below a black belt. So, yeah, he knows a bit about self-defense. I think teaching his mother turned out to be a bit, well, more different than he expected. He didn't want to put it off, so as soon as he suggested it, he pulled me into the living room and we started. He paused for me to go back and finish my coffee at least!

Yeah, my first self-defense lesson was as I was in my pajamas. Jab, jab, punch. Jab, jab, punch. Twist from the hip, push off with your back foot. Then he added on by having me move side-to-side. And acted as if he was aggressing and throwing punches. It took everything in me not to move. Not to flinch. This is my son and I knew damn well he would never hit me. Testament to how good he is - his fist never came within four or five inches of me even if my attempts to block failed miserably. He had me try to hit him. After a while, I started to enjoy it. Not hitting him! Lol. No, never that. But the feeling that comes with learning to protect yourself. Seeing the approval on his face as I got past his guard to reach his shoulder or ribs. Towards the end, I got sneaky and hooked a few under and made him step back. Hearing his chuckle and seeing his smile was the best feeling I'd had in a while. 

Oh, his dogs (one a boxer mix, the other a Pittie mix) were outside the entire time. Those two love 'secondary', but, yeah, my son is their primary human. When they came back in, they sniffed him over to make sure he was okay, then came to check on me. Then I talked him into giving them treats. (I'm a fur grandma practicing the spoiling.)

I've been practicing the past few days. Working on tucking my thumb right, keeping my wrist straight, making the first 'jab, jab, punch' count. Side-to-side with my feet, putting my entire side from toes to knuckles into the punch. About fifteen minutes in the morning, another round in the evening.

I'm not sure if it's ever been an 'approved' therapy for victims of domestic/marital violence and abuse. But I think my son found one that works for me. Each practice gives me more confidence. Another stone in the foundation for strength. I think it helps him as well, knowing that his mother won't be as vulnerable again. 

The 'Dark Days' are still ahead of me. But I will not let them beat me this time. I am not a victim. I am a survivor. And I am going to thrive.

Current Status of the Journey

 I got a message from someone asking - Where are you on the journey you talk about? Do you think you've made any progress? Has it been worth it? What did you do when people laughed or questioned what you were doing?

Great questions! I'll answer the first two with this post.

My current status - further along but still learning. I've definitely made progress. There have been setbacks. Major setbacks outside the current pandemic. 

BUT - when I got knocked back, on my butt, and felt woozy, I've learned to pause, catch my breath, clear my head and then figure out what happened. Easier said than done as, trust me, all that can take days or weeks to sort through. 

Major lessons learned - 

1. I can say 'no'. Simple, right? It's a toddler's favorite word, but one we seem to forget how to say it as we get older. I was raised to be a 'good girl' and 'no' (except in certain circumstances!) wasn't what a 'good girl' said. People don't like being told no and argue about it - especially if they've been able to talk you around in the past. I've learned (am learning) to simply repeat the word, smile slightly and walk away. And you know something? I DO NOT have to explain myself! Neither do you! It was so liberating to realize that! 

2. My body can't do what it did ten or twenty years ago and that's okay. I've learned that my body and mind work best if I average 6k steps a day, practice daily yoga and meditation and keep to a consistent sleep schedule. Pretty basic, huh? Yet in my previous hectic, non-stop life, I didn't do that. At all. I was all over the place. Five years ago, I started listening to my body, to my instincts. I didn't always listen, not at first. But now, I crave the morning yoga and walk to stretch my body and wake up my mind for the day. 

3. I'm learning to ask for help. And who to ask. Who to trust. That's been a very hard lesson the past few years. Professionally and personally. But I have my circle of trusted family and friends. People whose love and support are constant, along with the no hesitancy of applying a verbal 2x4 when I need it. Because of them, I'm regaining the confidence to stand up for myself. And others.

So, if you follow along, you'll find out how I got to this point, and I'll answer the rest next week. Do you have any questions? Comment or message me through Instagram or Facebook. 

Making the First Step

The journey started several years ago. I'd turned 49 and it slowly dawned on me that I was entering the 'second half' of life. So many questions suddenly came to mind and I didn't have a clue where to turn for answers or any possible advice or directions. Well, okay - I did the basics - did the medical trips you're supposed to do when you hit or are about to hit the 'Big 5-0'. I'm in decent health, although, probably like everyone else, I was told to 'try to manage your stress better'. 

Easier said than done in these times, even five or six years ago! 

Oops, yeah, I'm 55. I'm the speed limit no one wants to drive. 

It's been a series of 'two steps forward, one step back, a couple to the side, slide down the hill a bit, leap forward' and 'where the heck am I now?' Professional life started getting nuttier than usual. I worked for the federal government. All the rumors you hear? The truth and reality can be worse. And better. Personal life was a rollercoaster that sent me reeling. Suddenly it seemed as if nothing I did mattered, influenced anything or made a bit of difference in my life. 

Looking back, I realize I was in a depression, mild mostly, but definitely with some very bad moments. Two things kept me going - my sons and my cats. If you ask my sons, they'll (sort of) joke that the cats come first. Well, my sons can take care of themselves! Lol. Kidding. Five years ago, I had three cats that kept me on a routine whether I liked it or not - breakfast at a certain time, etc. They understood that when the dishes were done at night, I made the coffee and then they got their evening treats. Little things that keep you going. 

My sons were scattered about the country, and the world at times. Thanks to modern technology, I could send a quick text - usually every couple weeks to all three of them - 'Pulse and breathing check. Everyone still with me? What's happening?' And within a day or so, depending on schedules, they would each chime in with a couple sentences about their life. I really try not to be a 'hovering mother' who clings but it's not easy. Texting helps and every few weeks one calls. Thank heavens they understand me! 

But still, I was going through what I'm calling the Fifties Fog. I don't know if it was hormones or chemicals in the body or both, but sometimes it just seemed as if I was wading through life. Which also contributed to the depression. 

The first step that helped me was going back to those things that had always brought me joy - gardening, writing, crafts of some sort. I lived in an apartment so I first checked if I could put containers on the small deck. That was approved, as long as I kept it neat of course. Planning and preparing helped through the DC winter. Writing - oh, I'm a storyteller! If I'm breathing, then some part of my mind is working on a story. But life had gotten in the way. I shoved life back. And crafts. I started loom knitting again. The cats supervised and assisted in everything. They were particularly interested in the yarns.

While exploring the best container plants, I stumbled across something that truly started me on a new path. I've wandered a bit from the trail, but generally return to it - smaller living. Some call it 'minimalism', but I found that a bit extreme. I read everything I could - no hardship as I love doing research. And slowly, I went through things. If it was broken, toss. If I hadn't worn it in two years, donated. That process didn't happen overnight, but as I did it, I worked on other parts of life. 

It was as if removing the 'dead weight' for lack of a better term had opened up room for me to think about other things. 

I still had far to go, but, as Confucius might put it, my journey had started. 

I had no idea where I was going. But I have a better idea now because of that first step of tossing things. 

Deep breath and away we gooo!

Have you ever been putzing about? Puttering and trying to procrastinate and then, while cleaning out emails (don't ask how old!) I found an email leading to this. 

I'd forgotten about the Garden Nook. 

Rather timely because I'd been thinking about blogging. And doing it in a more consistent way. So much has changed - I mean, it's been a decade! 

I've changed. You've changed. And, lord knows - the world just this year has changed.

I don't know about you but I'm ready to yell - stop the world and let me off!! Since that's not an option, how about we work together to find balance? Peace and calm in the craziness. To find contentment and serenity.

I started anew on 1 August, committing myself this month to mindfulness. To actively seeking ways to find, well, new ways to find myself. Because who I was ten years ago? I'm not that person anymore. My entire life has turned upside-down, inside-out, and is unrecognizable. 

I'm rediscovering myself in a new stage of life. I'm focusing more on what I need and want in my life. Not what others tell me I should or must have. I've never been very good at standing up for myself. I should have done it sooner. It's very liberating! 

Would like to join me? I'm walking, doing yoga and meditating, writing, taking care of the cats and my garden pots. And trying to release the best parts of me while discarding everything holding me back. Hopefully, some of it will help you, or give you a springboard in your own path of discovery. If it does, let me know! 

I'm going to be figuring this out as I go - if you have suggestions, shout'em out. 

Oh, and I'm on social media and slowly expanding my facebook group - https://www.facebook.com/groups/2474286792627734/, page - https://www.facebook.com/abby.gordon.182 and Instagram! - https://www.instagram.com/abbygordonauthor/

So come along, join in and take a deep breath. I'll be taking lots of them!