Showing all posts in I Call B.S.

YAS!

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Lessons from a trip around the sun: pause, reflect, redirect 

2023 was my year of YAS! and it was seriously amazing! Turning fifty took my experiences to the next level, and I learned some profound stuff. Looking back, I’m feeling proud of myself. I took some giant leaps and stumbled, but I mostly kept going. 

So here it is, the top lessons from 2023…I hope they help pave your path for a smooth 2024.

Lesson 1: Believe them the first time #truth

Maya Angelou said it best: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” This quote resonated with me, but it hit home this year. I’ve learned to pay attention to actions, not just words. Please don’t wait for a flashing neon sign; trust your instincts and believe them the first time.

Lesson 2: No is a gift.

Rejection hurts, but this year, I’ve learned to embrace it. Unanswered prayers can be blessings in disguise. Instead of letting ‘no’ bring me down, I use it to fuel my motivation. Each ‘no’ redirects me towards something better, and I am grateful for the opportunities they bring.

The trick is quickly navigating through the crashing waves of pain and disappointment. Recover and get to the other side of rejection, where the waters calm, and you’ll find yourself floating gently toward something better.

Lesson 3: Handle it!

News flash: bad things happen to good people–all the time. Handling your shit is all about speeding up the process (mindset shift) from “Why is this happening to me?” to “This is happening for me.”

When the circus shows up in your life (AKA shit show), handle it! Instead of dwelling on why it’s happening to you, focus on what you can control. Take charge of your response and become the ringmaster of your circus. 

Lesson 4: Next stop: central station

Life is a journey, and sometimes it means saying goodbye to people who no longer serve us. Just like a train arriving at a new destination, sometimes you need to swing the doors open of your life and let people off your train. Not everyone in your life is meant to be a passenger for life. Part ways, with love and peace, make room for new connections. 

Lesson 5: Run your race.

Life is a marathon, and we each have our own pace. Don’t slow down for others or expect them to keep up with you. Run your race and find fulfillment without judging or imposing expectations on others. Eventually, you’ll find those who share your vision and run alongside you.

Voila, my top five lessons from 2023!

Here’s to another trip around the sun filled with growth and wisdom!

Curated

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The Rest Of The Story – Part I

Social media stresses me out—the father’s day posts elevated my blood pressure. ‘You are the best; thanks for all you do; you are always there for me.’ It’s sweet but isn’t that the gig? To provide cheer, support, wipe noses, etc. But that’s neither here nor there. 

Scrolling through the feed leaves me conflicted. My internal battle erupts, a push and pull of inadequacy and yearning for more.

Whoa…Hold Up

Aww, social media, the fuckery of fakery, a bunch of smoke and mirrors, I say. But that is not entirely fair. Sure, there are those that filter and stage all the photos, but the moments are real, right? Friends are getting together; laughs are happening; places are explored; food is served, and opinions are being shared. 

So, what’s up with my ambivalence? Honestly, I must reconcile my feelings with social media if I am to continue blogging. Unfortunately, there is no way around this. I need a come to Jesus moment; what the heck is setting me off? So, I take pen to paper and purge…. and then it happens, I see it.

Curated

My disconnect lies with the meticulously curated posts that neglect to tell the whole story. We get morsels of fabulous, but I am salivating for the in-betweens. The speed bumps of life are what connect us. Complex and less-than-perfect moments are where we grow together hence why I gravitate towards keeping it real. This means less of, ‘Being a mom fills my cup and brings me eternal joy, look at my perfect kids’ and more of ‘I love being a mom — most days, give or take, depending, sometimes, I don’t, but mostly I do.’

Black Kettle

Flipping through family albums, I realized I am a hypocrite. I am whining about the slivers of perfection that don’t tell the whole story. And yet, I have systematically curated photos of my boys that reflect pure bliss, condensing the years to beautifully packaged bounded books filled with flawless images.

Will they look back and think life was a cupcake? At my age, I rely on pictures to tell my childhood stories. The truth is, I can’t differentiate between a real memory and a photo that I have looked at two dozen times. Ah, shit. I want them to reflect on the whole of it, bumps and all. 

Perhaps curating is a coping mechanism to protect, survive and carry on. An attempt to forget the not-so-great moments—maybe social media is no different—coping with the environment and adapting by producing images of how we wish to be seen.

Hmm, feeling confused, less judgy, and have more questions than answers.

To Be Continued.

The Rest Of The Story, Part II

To Kelly on father’s day,

Here’s to my guy and his half-bitten tongue! I see you biting down a lot; yes, times have changed. Well done, you are killing it in the annoying category. Keep riding them on manners, respecting women, work ethic, and character. I know, they talk back and think they know more than you—to be fair, sometimes, they do know more—how do they know so much?  

Yes, they would rather hang out with friends spending our money than work. And they definitely don’t respect cars. Did you see the latest scratch? Sorry, I know how much the car thing bugs you. I agree, they are spoiled, not in an assy-attitude way but like in material comforts- I still say, that’s on us, babe— our bad.  

Don’t stop. Keep setting expectations and holding them accountable. Yes, to mowing the lawn and shoveling the snow. Yes, to teaching them outdated skillsets – hey, in case of an apocalypse, they’ll know how to change the tire and check the oil.

Keep on them for the foul language- sailor mouths, I tell you, you can blame their mama. 

Keep hugging them —even when you want to strangle them; keep talking to them about uncomfortable stuff; it’s all downhill after the condom and banana demo.

Good job, you, You are crushing it in the teeter-totter of fatherhood, the perfect balance of lighting their asses on fire and loving them fiercely. Keep pushing off, slowly releasing your grip and allowing them to use their feet too. 

Their legs are not as strong as yours, but soon, they will be, and they’ll be off—gosh, I’ll miss the stinkers. 

Happy Father’s Day- 

Ps. Thanks for not giving them away and letting them live with us. I love being their mama- most days.

Dumpster

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The Breakup

Y’all know I love an introspective ‘shrink sesh’! Strapping onto the hot seat is daring and brave; it screams, ‘bring it, I’m ready to unpack.’ 

So, when my therapist delivered a ‘Dear John’ letter, I felt disjointed. Whoa, you are breaking up with me; you are kidding. But I am so good at this…you can’t cut me off; you work for me…I do not accept your resignation…did I mention that I am nailing this couch thing! 

My declarations did not persuade Dr. J; she was gentle but decisive. She rattled something like, ‘You got this, co-dependency, time to be it, your sea legs exist, less talking more doing…blah, blah, blah, all I knew was that she cut off the umbilical cord.

Keep On

The other day, Dr. J’s words popped in my head when a friend confided that she had been seeing her therapist for a decade. ‘Hmm, that seems like a long time. Why hasn’t your therapist broken up with you?’ She responded, ‘nope, not an option. And if she did, I would find someone else. My weekly sessions keep me balanced.’ 

Ah, noted, for some, therapy is not about discovering their sea legs but preserving them. Right on, friend, keep on, keepin’ on! 

Not So Fast…

So often, I hear, ‘Nah, who needs a therapist? I have my tribe.’ Not so fast! I get it; my girls help me navigate through some rough waters. And perhaps I am a cynic, but to say we are completely honest with our friends is not entirely true. Most of us show up with a biased version of the truth. Lying is not the intent, but there is generous withholding. Shame, regret, judgment, and lack of trust are just a few culprits.  

Friends are yummy blankets offering comfort; excellent at applying emotional band-aids but terrible at ripping them off. So even when we are transparent, the inclination is to protect and soften the blow. Sorry to say, this serves us zilch.

That is why I am a fan of paying professionals for honest, unapologetic; no holds barred dialogue, ‘Girl, you have lost your mind’ aka BS button.

So…

I am curious, do you agree, or am I projecting? No doubt, I edit my truths (information) every day…am I the only one? 

  • She’s too conservative to hear this story 
  • I don’t trust her with this information
  • I dim my light to make her feel better
  • She is too fragile; if I tell her the truth, she will spiral? 
  • Her life is perfect; how could she possibly understand?
  • I am so embarrassed; what would people think if they knew?
  • I am tired of my life being a mess and constantly talking about my issues; it’s easier to say, ‘I am good.’

Pause & Reflect

What are you saying, Mic? I feel confused. Should I get a therapist or break up with my therapist? Am I dishonest? Are my friend’s liars?  

Slow down, mama! My rambling is purposeful and encourages you to examine your support system.

My intent for ToGETherJOY is to discover joy; to do this, we must be authentic and give our inner voice wings.

The Takeaways

Accept that cracks in our foundation exist, which limit our ability to be genuine.

How can we expect to be real with others if we aren’t honest with ourselves?

Owning our truths is crucial, and the best way to do this is by securing a dumpster (i.e., an outlet to rid of all the junk)

If you have discovered an outlet (therapist, bestie, partner, God) that accepts ALL deliveries, excellent, carry on. 

If you do not have a dumpster, I have a judgment-free alternative for your consideration. I propose a haven to purge feelings, doubts, dreams, and fears—a place to shock, awe, and delight your inner spirit.

Journaling

Yep, pen and paper are my absolute favorite duo and medicine for the soul. Operation WRITE IT and MEAN IT is a go! Full permission to release the raw emotions and messiness of life. No filters, no apologies to be unashamedly YOU.

It is liberating to give the whispers and desires in your heart a landing spot. And Then It Happens…enlightenment.

Love you mucho,

Hamster Wheel

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Here is to all the mammas drowning in a sea of sadness, playing the part, taking care of everything — desperately trying to keep it together.

All while being weighed down by the heaviness of emotions that keep piling on, simmering silently with resentment and disappointment…what happened to the fucking Cinderella happily ever after story? 

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Gladiatrix

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Sage Everett is the name I use in my writings when referring to women who do not wish to be known by their truths. Sage symbolizes the many women who suffer in silence. The name Sage Everett represents bravery, wisdom, and healing. And although these women aren’t ready for all to see, I do not doubt that all who hear their stories will know their strength.

Sage 

Avoiding eye contact, Sage nests the hot tea in the palm of her hands, gently blowing, releasing steam, and mutters, I will be okay. A tear trickles down her cheek. She sets the tea down, leans back, and wipes the tear with her index finger; A single tear is all that she allows her heart to express; she releases a deep sigh and diverts the conversation. 

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Keep Growing

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Spring is sprung, and hot dang, It smells normal! Crowded restaurants, overbooked flights, and no parking spaces, to name a few. Perhaps ‘normal’ is not the correct term, but I am delighted to put a handful of convos on sleep mode —covid and social distancing— to be exact. Move along, children; time to focus on a whole new set of crazy… dictators and gas prices—big sigh.

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Silence

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We have all heard the mottos, silence is golden, silence is a virtue, and silence is bliss; to put it simply, it is often better to remain silent than to speak. Possessing the self-restraint to keep quiet is commendable as it highlights characteristics of enlightenment and insightfulness. And although I agree that silence can be an excellent response, I find that most mortals do not use silence as a virtue but rather as a Band-Aid for sadness.  

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Brady-ism

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‘Happy is as happy does…drink a beer just because…laugh and live with a half-full cup’, these are a few lyrics from a Kenny Chesney song and, lucky for me, mirror my life lately. Yep, toes in the sand and hanging with my favorite people, laughing and living my best life. There was a tiny interruption to all the F-U-N in which I had to return home for a quick minute. I got stuck flying standby which is never ideal; my choice is a middle seat or middle seat. Guess what seat I got? But you know what, it turned out to be just what I needed. My seatmates reaffirmed a deliberate choice I made this year to denounce the ‘Brady-ism.’ Allow me to explain.

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Choose JOY

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I am not sure what is going on, but lately, there has been a lot of chatter on nutrition and fitness. Maybe it’s linked to the change of season. Last week, I witnessed my family compartmentalize food into Yes and NO columns for the first time ever. It turns out many of them have turned to the Keto diet in the hopes to shock their system. I am not sure which is more alarming, that my family is eliminating foods or that I now know what a Keto ‘stick’ is- both, I’d say. But it gets worse. One must give up alcohol (most alcohol) to fully actualize a Keto altered state. 

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You might be a MOAMG

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Dear Moms of Daughters,

Yes, I am being particular here. Listen up, ladies, no doubt that many of you are killing it in the mama category. Planting seeds of encouragement, confidence, kindness, inclusion, and compassion. Weaving complicated lessons as you strive to illuminate the path forward for your beautiful girls. Gently guiding them back as mistakes are made and exposing hard truths; social media is smoke and mirrors; beauty is more than a perfect body, designer clothes, and ‘cool’ friends. 

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