life

Thunder

/ Jaimie / Leave a comment

I was a human once.

I lived, I breathed, I knew who I was.

It was somewhere between where husband number one left me a puddle on the floor and husband number two decided I wasn’t enough.

Maybe I’m not.

Maybe they’re not.

I’m not qualified to say.

Tonight, I’m thinking I am beyond expectations and they are the fault.

Regardless, I’m here with the pieces.

Pieces are a funny thing. They fall in random intervals. They collide with ideals. They stick themselves in places you didn’t see coming.

But you hang on, groping for tomorrow because maybe it will be better and maybe peace can be found.

Maybe, instead of the ideal that someone will rescue me, I can find solace in me and my faith and the promise of tomorrow. I am tired.

I’m tired of picking up pieces and expecting gold.

Still, I am an optimist. I believe in tomorrow.

But today is real and I need to feel it to gather the gold.

So I struggle and rest in the same breath.

I am me and for tonight, that is enough. Tomorrow may be another story.

Shine when the darkness covers.

Shine when you can’t find light.

Today is a day gone…tomorrow is eternity, so live!!!!

Random thoughts from the lost and tired.

Be you!

Bring the thunder and the light will follow…at least that’s the hope.

Sing for the Light

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Call me into the deep where you are waiting

I’ve missed the feel of you

My head can hear you and my sensibilities know you but my emotions have fallen out the window.

Who have I become that my emotion is absent?

I was passion now I’m passive and that isn’t enough.

I don’t want to live in a world without feeling

It doesn’t satisfy

Reason is enough in a world of black and white but let’s be real we live in prisms

It isn’t enough for me.

I need the sunshine and the breaking of light over dim

I need to feel it

It’s who I am

And I’m not alone

We need to feel

Emotion carries us through the mundane

A world without feeling is nothing but muted strength struggling to hang on

I want to feel the daybreak

And cry when the light strikes the perfect pose

I’m not alone

I can feel it

So sing with me seekers and cry out for the dawn

It’s coming

Hang on tight

When tomorrow comes

/ Jaimie / Leave a comment

Today was a blip in eternity

A small stardust glimpse of reality lived

Or maybe not lived to the fullest

Or enough of a moment to leave a mark

Who knows

Today is a moment coming

What will it bring?

Who will I be in the midst of the noise?

Who am I in the infinite?

I cannot skip tomorrow

I don’t want to

I am here or not

I’m in bed sick or out there being me

I am a blip in eternity

I am me

Will I leave a mark?

That remains to be seen.

But for now, I am here. Do you see me?

Feminism, Covid, and Reality

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I consider myself a strong woman. I do what needs to be done. If I don’t know how, I figure it out. If I can’t figure it out, I figure that out.

I’m in a mood tonight. I’m sure it’s primarily caused by the fact that I tested positive for Covid yesterday. I’m fine. It’s a mild case and will pass in no time, hopefully. Still, it is hard for me, as a mother, to sit in bed and rest and leave the heavy lifting to my husband.

I appreciate his willingness to help. I truly do. Still, one day in, and he seems frustrated. The kids and dinner, and lunch packing, and laundry, are apparently too much for him. He’s complaining and my house is a disaster. Yet, these things are my reality, after I work a full time job.

So I’m stuck between frustration that I can’t do all I do and annoyance that all of these things fall to me everyday and my husband can’t handle it for a day.

So where does my inner feminist stand on this issue? Is it okay with me that I do it all? Is it okay that it’s expected of me yet looked at with sympathy when he has to do it?

Is it okay that I, a strong woman, feel like crap, not because I literally feel like crap, but because, I can’t do it all? Why do I have to do it all? When did feminism become the ideal that women do everything? Why is it okay for me to feel bad because I feel bad?

I realize I may sound ungrateful and I don’t mean it that way. This isn’t even about my husband. It’s about me. I’ve become so ingrained in my role as mom and homemaker that despite the fact that I’m the primary breadwinner in my household, I still feel guilty if it isn’t all perfect.

This week, I cannot make it perfect. I’m isolated to my bedroom to keep from contaminating my family and I feel like my world will end because my kitchen is a mess and I can’t go clean it! It’s torture. Part of me would rather we all catch Covid than allow my kids’ bathroom to go without being cleaned and that is on me.

Or maybe society or whatever ridiculous norms are expected of us mothers and women trying to do it all. Feminism was made for equal rights yet it’s become unequivocal.

Why can’t a man work and scrub the dishes? Why can’t a man work and clean a toilet? Why do I feel so guilty because I’m sick?

I blame Covid for the mood but not entirely…it’s probably been brewing for awhile. Still, this week is testing my patience. But soon, I will feel better and take it all with grace.

Another day, another virus, another annoyance, another reason for me to question the system we’ve created.

It is what it is…

Noise

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When did the world stop making noise?

It screams from the rooftops but I don’t think I can hear it anymore

The sound of my head has blocked the overwhelming.

Survival

I am me. I am struggling. I am alive. I will live another day.

There is life when the grass dies.

There is truth, among the pain.

Lean in.

Learn.

Tomorrow is the greatest gift we have.

Don’t waste it.

Thighs, noise, and neurosis

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The 40’s have been good to me…overall. Despite, the crazy weight gain and hormones going crazy and the stress of my personal life (a story for another day). I’ve gained weight, lost weight. Adjusted to the new “normal” and feel, overall, comfortable, in my new skin. For the most part…

Then today, I wore a pair of pants I’ve worn a million times. Yet, in the eerie, quiet, of my office, I realized that every time I walk, my pants make noise. You know that “thigh rub serenade” that accompanies movement in the realm of the real? I don’t know why I never noticed before. Up until 40, I was that size 0, thigh gap girl you rarely meet in reality. But I have transitioned to “normal” and haven’t quite come to terms with it.

Still, I can’t help but wonder, when “normal” become subpar?

I walked around my office today, for the first time aware, that when I walk, my pants make noise. What is that?!?

Then I came to the safety of my home and realized, the noise isn’t gone because I’m safe. I’m still in my work clothes and my thighs and pants still make noise when I walk and I wonder if I’m the only one neurotically listening to the sound deafening to me…the noise of fabric and friction.

I realize this sounds stupid. But it’s the “real” of my life so I’m sharing.

How do you navigate the moment you are young and whatever size, and transition to normal adulthood without feeling the sting? I thought of burning my pants but the truth is, my thighs are the likely culprit, so no amount of flame will kill the ill.

But why is that an issue? Good Lord ladies, we are born of dust into a world of rust and lust, and suddenly, we are not enough?

Who sets these standards? And why do we care?

I, neurotically, navigate a world of “beauty”, when the whole time, I am beauty. Do we need size X to be happy? Or can we be real?

I am in my 40’s. I’ve had 5 children. I am the average woman walking down the street. Yet I am obsessing about the sound of polyester striking polyester?!? There’s something profoundly wrong there!

I am officially calling it bull! I can rock my polyester, not so amazing, work pants…serenade and all without thinking of my “thigh gap”. I can be me and feel amazing without being 20 again!

Listen closely if you dare, and you may hear the sound of my thighs rubbing together while I conquer the world! And God grant me the serenity to be okay with the melody!

Sincerely,

Me

Not your neighborhood optimist…

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I try to be optimistic. I really do. But let’s be real…some nights are harder than others. Some nights I’m scratching and clawing through life. I wish I could lie like the social media crud we see daily and pretend my life is perfect and I have faith at every moment, but lying is a sin…ten commandments people! So here is the real! The reality is, some nights suck!

My air conditioner is broken. That may not seem like a big deal unless you live in South Florida, but in South Florida, it’s a big deal!!! Not only did it break, but it flooded my attic, and consequently, my youngest kids’ bedroom. Water damage and gunk are filling my night, my bookshelf, my sons’ toy bins. Wet vac ablaze and husband trying to remedy the chaos. It’s hot in here! And my kids want family movie night while I’m cleaning up attic gunk. And I am horrified by the dirt that has accumulated while I try to accomplish greatness, while my kids cannot understand why cleaning the gunk is a priority.

Parenting and living in a fixer-upper can be tricky. Life can be tricky. There are nights when none of it works out!!! There are nights, like tonight, when everything seems “wrong”.

Still, we find hope in tomorrow. That is the optimist. Tomorrow, my air might work. Tomorrow, my kids won’t be disappointed. Tomorrow, I may be a better version of myself…maybe.

But tonight, I’m not! Tonight, I’m whining and complaining and wondering why every moment has to be so dang hard. That is ” the real”. This is my life. Judge if you please.

Truthfully, I’m a girl in a middle-aged mom-bod gasping for breath. I’m a woman doing it all! I’m everything to so many yet, who am I to ME? Am I even ME anymore? Who knows?!?

So here I am on a Thursday night fighting for survival sans air conditioning and perfect parenthood awardhood, and a million other problems I haven’t mentioned here. My house is a MESS! I am exhausted! but His mercies are new every morning.

And maybe that’s the point. We can drain everything in daylight hours and feel like there’s nothing left and wake up tomorrow and start again. That’s the beauty in the chaos and the strength, less my lack of optimism. Maybe I don’t need to be everything. Maybe I can wake up tomorrow and get the kids off to school and go to work and it will all be okay. Maybe tonight’s tears will be tomorrow’s blessings. Life moves on. That is growth That is parenthood. That is life.

Still, I can’t help thinking, some nights, it’s okay to say it sucks. And tomorrow I can smile and be thankful. Welcome to the real! Your friend from beyond the realm, me.

A Note from Bionic Me

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I love a good challenge. I love to learn and absorb new things around me. I started using a new computer program today that I’ve never used and had to force myself to stop messing with it, because I have other things to do and I can learn more later. I often think I can do anything (within reason). At least in most settings.

I find myself wondering today if this is one of those situations where my greatest weakness is my greatest strength overextended. Let me explain. Sometimes the things that make us great, can be pushed too far and end up being our downfall. For example, I’m very compassionate and empathetic. This is a strength. But, when I allow my empathy and compassion to drive in some situations, I can be a giant pushover and let people walk all over me.

When it comes to my bionic, superwoman, learn it all, be the fastest, do better, mentality, I am really good at a lot of things. I’m an excellent employee, friend, singer. I want to be the best I can be so I work until I get it done. This is a strength, but in light of the gospel, this can be my downfall. See, God isn’t likely to be too impressed with my valiant strides towards greatness. In fact, he resists arrogance and pride and sent His son to die for mankind who had spent thousands of years trying to prove they were good enough, only to find they needed a better way. Jesus is that way!

God doesn’t expect me to be superwoman, yet I will try like mad to show Him how capable and “good” I am. I was reading in Genesis 11 this morning. Man says, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower whose top is in the heavens; let us make a name for ourselves” Gen 11:4. The key phrase here is “let us make a name for ourselves”. They were doing the exact thing we all do sometimes, trying to do things all on our own and prove how great we are.

If you know the story, God decides to confuse their language and scatters them all over the earth so they wouldn’t try that again. The place is called Babel, which means confusion (It’s also the beginning of Babylon and you know Babylon ended up taken God’s people captive and even shows up ago in Revelation). The point is, when I try to prove my worth and be good enough, it only makes me captive to confusion and exhaustion. But Jesus came so that I can have life and rest and peace and FINISHED the work on the cross. That’s all I need. If only I could learn once and for all to REST in that.

Don’t let your greatest strengths get out of balance and become your greatest weaknesses. Don’t work so hard you forget to live. Don’t let your arrogance get in the way of the freedom and blessings that you don’t have to earn…they’re freely given. Let your faith and His strength be enough.

From your friendly neighborhood Bionic woman. (I was named after the bionic woman by the way, but that’s a story for another time.)

What now?

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There are many inconceivable stories around us every day that we haven’t heard. We have no idea what the person next to us has lived. We can’t conceive the stories that aren’t ours…that aren’t open to the vast space of the known. We hold glimpses not substance. We hold illusions and self-constructed paradigms, based on our own experiences. We can’t fully grasp the depth of the experience another has walked because we aren’t “another”. We are “we”, “us”, something separate peering in from beyond casting opinions.

And it’s almost inevitable. We do it. We can’t help it. I caught myself tonight. The judging voices from my worldview, looking upon someone else’s experience and thinking, huh???? Why is that so easy? Maybe it’s just our nature.

Regardless, I found myself looking at someone. They were saying a trigger from their past was causing them to look at a present circumstance and look for an exit route. My first reaction was (ashamedly) disdain. It seemed such a trivial thing. It seemed like something wholly redeemable. I tend to look at things as opportunities. If something from my past causes me to be triggered in my present, I want to rise above and kill the giant. I want to slay and once and for all triumph above the thing I know I really haven’t killed, but at least pretend I’ve brought light to the darkness. It’s my way of coping I suppose. But not everyone is wired that way and that’s okay.

I admire the strong who can say, “this is too much. I can’t right now.” Honestly, I’ve never been that brave. I have to conquer and do it anyway, damn the consequences to my own mental health. I figure all of that will work itself out eventually. But what if it doesn’t?

What if I’m left at the end with the trophies of my own self-proclaimed victories and an empty soul pleading that I was really trying to be strong? What if my desire for strength stifled my ability to lean in and find a strength to lean on?

I walk each day proclaiming the mantra that “I’ve got this” and all the while, I hear this small voice saying “My strength is made perfect in weakness”. And I KNOW this! And I lean on this, or pretend to, while I hold the world on my shoulders and pray against avalanches and earthquakes. Because I KNOW, I don’t “have this”. I need others. I need more than I alone can bring. I am not really the bionic woman I was named after (true story, I was named after the bionic woman’s character).

Yet, the weakness is the beauty. I am strong when I know I am weak. When I can stare at the wave about to toss me like a pebble and say, “You can’t break me”. Then feel myself being thrown about until the turbulence subsides…and I’m still standing in the end. That is strength. In that way, I am strong. And I hate that I’m so strong. Why do I always have to be so stinking strong?

Still, I can’t help but think that the beauty is in the response. What do we do with the giants we face down? Do we run and hide or dig deeper? Do we know at the bottom of the rockpile, there is a purpose only we can achieve? I suppose that may be the real question.

Maybe we as a people should quit running and face, with eyes ablaze, the next thing and then the next and then the next until we have finished our race.

I don’t know the answers but I know I will not go down without a fight and I will stop trying to be a lone warrior. I will find my army. Maybe it’s one or two to hold up my arms or whisper a quick, “you’ve got this”, when I feel like I’m going to break. Maybe it’s a tribe. But even when I break and crumble into a million pieces I trust the one who always puts me back together and I hope you do too. The breaking isn’t easy, but the beauty that comes from the rebuild is stunning. I’ll try to look for that beauty in others even when I’m tempted to get snarky and I hope you can see it in me as well.

Happiness

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Happiness is spending an hour on the phone with your grandmother. Happiness is legacy wrapped in light with sprinkles of hope and contentment. Happiness doesn’t come cheap. Sometimes it”s wrapped in struggle. Sometimes it is plain. But it is yours. Grab it and hold on!