gettin' down to The Git Up

I don’t know what it is about choreographed dance. Line dance. Group dance. Songs like this. I don’t know what it is, but I come ALIVE with this stuff. I feel actually good. Great. Hopeful. Like life is so, so good.

People enjoying themselves. Laughing at themselves. Enjoying one another. Moving their bodies. Smiling and feeling sure and silly and free …

And I feel almost ridiculous saying all that. But, if I’m being honest, it’s always been a true thing for me. Most of my best memories are on Cowboys’ dance floor. I kid you not. I imagine it must be what it’s like for musicians when they sit down with others for a jam session. It feels like human connection and like something bigger and better than ourselves.. It feels like possibility. Life hums. Vibrates.

For me, it’s something approaching a concept of Heaven I could actually look forward to …

So, I’m gonna grab my baby girl and we’re gonna dance in the living room to this on the daily for a while. We’ve already been at it. She lights up. Which makes my heart leap. Maybe she’s got some of her momma in her. And, if it’s this part, I’m gonna help her enjoy it as much and as long as is possible.

Love.

party pooper

I planned, prepared for, and hosted my first real party yesterday. Yea, my first. At 37. I mean, I planned my wedding, but I paid other people to execute the plan on the day of, so it wasn’t all me. And this time it wasn’t all me either, but it mostly was. And, I guess I’m writing about it because I find myself, a day later, wondering if it was good enough. Was it impressive? Well done? Unique? Valued? Really seen and really noticed. My personal insecurities projected onto the event I put on.  

I’m a little uncomfortable with how uncomfortable I am with not knowing what others thought about the production/product. I don’t like being so insecure so late in life. AND, there’s a part of me that is impressed by myself. I picked out, ordered and arranged flowers for goodness’ sake! And the “brand” consistency throughout was pretty spot on. But, I felt and feel lackluster. It’s a theme in these recent days and months of mine. My daughter outshines me easily (and I want her to - she’s so so precious and worthy). My hair has thinned and fallen out. My face only ages. My body is too soft. I look at my camera roll and there’s no evidence that I exist (except for the occasional selfie with Amber). I feel like I don’t matter. I excel at nothing anyone notices and, well, that’s a first for me. And I don’t know how to shake off that uneasy, hurt feeling.

brain dump

I’m a mess lately. Forgetting things left and right. Tired every morning, despite sleeping all night. Feeling frazzled and failing on the regular. Today, I nearly cried when I watched an Osprey dive for and MISS getting a fish from the pond behind my house.  What is that? I’m not unhappy - I feel really blessed, I really love my daughter and my dogs and my Babe and our space. So, I can’t quite put my finger get on what’s eating at me (beyond my constant, lifelong struggle with foreboding joy).

I’m inclined to think it’s “the work stuff.” The recent realization that I have to change how I do what I do professionally if I’m going to keep wanting to do it (let alone move it forward into success). I think this means moving toward a coaching model of practice, but doing so requires I create a product, of sorts. And that feels really, really intimidating. I feel like I’ve failed before I’ve even started. My perfectionism shows up in all its dysfunctional glory and sabotages me. I get caught in this idea that I have to have it all together to begin or it’s not worth pursuing, because it WILL fail or be found lacking, or worse, I’ll be caught lacking. And, yet, there’s this part of me that is sure I would rock this change, but again, only if I figure it out ahead of time. 

So, it’s the figuring it out that’s throwing me for a loop, because I’m stunted there. Stuck. Overwhelmed by the thought of it. Not sure I have what it takes. And processing it out on my blog. 😁

Love.

I am grateful

I am grateful. For her. And him. And them. The dogs. The parents. The friends. The clients.

I am grateful. For the house. And the cars. And the bank account. The job. The work. The insurance.

I am grateful. For sun. Saturdays. Hot water. Cold lakes. Good wine. Fun music. Soup. Chocolate mousse. Soft sheets and pillows to cover my head. Lululemon leggings and messy buns. Long naptimes and short hugs and face smushes.

I am grateful. For grace. And life. And hope. Moments of peace. The power of prayer. Promise.

Amen and love.

on hormones

So, that night your baby has to do an unplanned 12-hour EEG … and your period decides to return … and your milk dries up? That’s a night you survive. It’s two days later you fall apart.

Eck. Weaning and #momfear and menstruation are a HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD combo.