Contemplation, journaling, Life, lifecoaching, Me, Native American Women, Uncategorized

Lost

I am lost. I wasn’t before. Before I knew exactly where I was. I wasn’t happy, haven’t been happy for a couple of years. I was consoling myself with dreams and it just isn’t working for me anymore.

Let me explain. I hate my job. It was fun for awhile but it has been 16 years…it’s not fun anymore. I have time in that earns me 6 weeks of vacation a year but I can’t use it. When you run in a department that is one person deep, there is no one who can take your place if you take time off. People used to help me, but now everyone knows that I do a lot, much more than they believed, so now no one really wants to cover my caseload. I will finish this year like so many others…with time I cannot use and don’t get paid for.

I wrote a resume. I haven’t had to do that for a long, long time. Thank God for my daughters, who sent me copies of theirs. I had good examples to follow. The resume has changed a good bit since the last time I used one. Now I get to decided how to “get myself out there”. Lost.

I have been dealing with depression, anger, loneliness. I try to keep my head up. I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak to people in the company, but it’s hard. I don’t mean to sound hateful. I just don’t think this is the job I want to do anymore.

In a month, will I change my mind? I don’t know. I really don’t know. My formal education is not so impressive, to people who just read resumes. I am old now. I worry about changing but not improving. I don’t like this feeling.

I am working now, on me…again. I will sit back and look in the mirror. I will see if I like what I see or not. I will change what I need to change so that I like what I see when the mirror looks back at me. It’s all I know to do. No one can fix this but me. No one can decide if I am lost or not but me.

Uncategorized

Old lady musings

I love new adventures. I have been having them all my life. I learn about something new, I like it, I study it. So far, I have not mastered too many things but that is ok with me. I enjoy the learning process. I cannot tell you what will catch my eye tomorrow but today, I am happily learning about essential oils.

I have known that they existed and I knew that some people used them but that was about it. I knew massage therapist used them to a small degree. Then, I got old.

I see my doctor every year for that dreaded annual physical. I think I am doing pretty good for a maturing woman but my doctor tells me otherwise. Each year there is something new that is wrong with me. I find this to be depressing. I think, “what the hell…why even try?”. I know that is not a good attitude to have but I have never been this old before. I didn’t think it was going to be so stressful.

Then one day my girlfriend invites me to her essential oil class. I accept, she is my girlfriend and I want to help her have a successful class. I smell all the oils as the bottles are handed around the room. I listen to the instructor as she tells us all about what some of these oils are good for and how we can feel better and be better by just using them ourselves. Then I remember the annual physical. I start wondering if there is really hope for me.

I bought the book. It really is a great book. It is simple to understand and the layout is superb. The photos are really good. I start to study a little bit and talk to my girlfriend about what oils I think will help me be a healthier person. Now what?

So I signed up with that company. I understand that there are several essential oil companies out there to choose from but none of my girlfriends invited me to go and learn about those companies’oils. So, here I am. I now own about forty different oils. I use ten of them everyday, just on me. I use another five or six for my husband. I will learn which ones are best for my dogs soon.

I joke that I smell like a hippy. My house smells like hippies live here. That means that you can smell the oils everywhere. But we do bathe everyday, unlike some of the hippies I actually know. I carry small bottles of oils in my purse, he carries small bottles in his vehicle. He is learning, probably not by choice, about which oils he uses, as well.

I even got my herb lady to sign up with this same company. She is also a massage therapist so she uses many essential oils but she is always looking for the best effective naturals she can find and it turns out, she really likes the purity of these oils. So now we have more to sit and talk about.

I have been using these oils for about six months. Now I start to get serious. Here is my reasoning: I am old. Therefore, my body does not regenerate nearly as fast or as completely as I did twenty years ago. It doesn’t matter which oils I use, my body will use them but not as effectively as it could have when I was younger. Consequently, I start using one of the proprietary blends to actually help my bodys’ cells regenerate faster and more completely.

My true purpose is, of course, to live forever but why live forever in a broken body? Let me continue to learn my craft, let me continue to have new adventures, and let me do it all on my terms.

Contemplation, Family, journaling, Life, Me, Native American Women, Uncategorized

Pressing Tears

My days had been busy with work projects which for me, generally means writing lots and lots of reports. I can easily spend six hours a day trying to keep up with all the reports that I am behind in. This is a heavy weight on my shoulders, being behind. When I am not working to catch up with those reports, I am making and keeping a hectic driving schedule, meeting after meeting after meeting..

My husband has been off work for about six weeks now. He was injured while on the job and workman’s comp pay has been trickling in. He feels guilty. Because my main concern was that he follow his therapist instructions and get better I had not been asking him to help more around the house during this time and so many of my home chores were also getting behind. I did not feel guilty. I rarely do. There is only so much a human can do in a day and if work is taking up most of my time I can forgive me for not being the perfect housewife.

But this day he had been trying to do more around the house. He had done the dishes and was busy working on the laundry. He then passed through the kitchen and asked if we had a spray bottle. I was just finishing up a batch of reports and asked him why? He said he had some shirts to iron and needed to spray them down with water. I reminded him that our iron had spray capability, all he had to do was fill the water reservoir. He thanked me and wandered on his way to set up the ironing board.

For the first time in weeks I felt a little guilty about not getting to all my chores and I remembered how well he did not iron shirts. Oh he was able to get the big wrinkles out but his attention to detail around the collar and sleeves was a bit lacking. I smiled and announced that I had finished report writing for the day and told him that I would get his shirts done.

There were three shirts laying across the back of a chair and three hangers thrown on the bed. I laid the first shirt out across the board and started. The first shirt was tedious. I was thinking “why did I say I would iron? I hate to iron”, and I do. It is my least favorite chore. Those permanent press inventors are real hero’s of mine. The second shirt began and my shoulders and stance next to the board relaxed and I started to smile. I was remembering that this was one of the chores I learned at my mother’s side.

There are so many things that our mother’s work hard to teach us when we are young. Sometimes those mother’s get to know if they were able to pass on all the knowledge and wisdom they accumulate to their children and sometimes they don’t get to know if they were successful. I am not sure if my mother knew that I had mastered the collared-shirt. It was not one of those things where she said “here, do it like this”. No, this was one of those “osmosis” teachings. She would iron shirts and pants for my step-dad and I would sit or stand next to her and talk. She would talk too but she never stopped ironing. I learned by watching.

The longer I stood there that day and the more shirts he “found” in the closet that needed to be pressed (there were five by the time I actually got done), the more I enjoyed my task. I took the time to remember her standing there with her ironing and I learned to enjoy my ironing. I know that my step-dad appreciated looking nice when he got dressed for work and I know that my husband really appreciates putting on a crisp looking shirt. I smiled more and more as I turned the shirt to the angles on the board. I took a certain amount of pride as I hung each shirt when I finished it, making sure that each collar was in proper position and that the sleeves were aligned on the hanger.

I wasn’t so much proud of me. I was proud of what my mother accomplished as she ironed and talked and of what I learned as I talked and watched. I was happy that she had been able to pass on so much to me, things she did everyday as mother and wife that she passed to me to use as I became mother and wife. By the time I had finished ironing my eyes were glassy with early tears that I didn’t let fall. He would not have understood at that moment how very close I was to my mother. I could feel her smile as she finally knew that she did, indeed, succeed.

Contemplation, getting in shape, Life, Me, Native American Women, Writing

Lost and Found Again

I work very hard at knowing myself. Looking into all the nooks and crannies can be tedious at best and scary most of the time. But there are times when I let myself get worn down and suddenly I find that I am empty.

It’s not the good empty when you release all your stress and can sleep soundly again. It’s the empty that you feel right before you realize that depression is the next stage of your digression. It’s not a comfortable feeling. I don’t like it.

Then, as it has happened so many times before, the miracle to wake me up and help me focus again.

I was talking to my nephew on the phone last night. He and I have stressful jobs in social services. We compare our days and make our jokes and dream of winning the lottery so we can leave our stressful jobs behind. I confessed that I have not written anything in months, no blogs, no stories, nothing. Then the magical words, the miracle…”Auntie, you have to recommit”…simple, easy. He excitedly told me of his newest writing project and let me know how much I would love to meet the elder he is working with and added that he had to do the same thing…recommit. He sits down every day to write…even if he only gets in 10 minutes a day. Our normal hour and a half conversation was cut short as it was getting very late and he still needed to get his writing done.

I was exhausted last night when we spoke so I didn’t write then. Today I wrote some reports and sent some faxes and made some phone calls. These things are never done. There will always be reports to write but this is not the style of writing that I like to do. So tonight before I go to bed, as tomorrow promises to be as crazy busy as the days of the past couple of months, I will write. I will be happy that I took the time to sit and let the words flow even if it was just for a little while.

I took the 21 in 21 Challenge this month, to walk 21 miles in 21 days. A nice way to help rebuild that walking habit. I wrote at least one report I was behind in each day. I cleaned a spot in my house that I haven’t cleaned as faithfully as I should. This ‘recommit’ theme seems more of a command than a suggestion for me. I’m a life coach, I notice those kinds of patterns.

I am less frustrated with me now. I am beginning to feel purpose again. I will probably still only blog a couple of times each month but my stories will start making progress again. Even as I write tonight, new aspects of the stories coalesce where only fog was present before. Artwork that I need begins to seem ‘not impossible’. The emptiness is filling up.

Thanks nephew for saying the things you are supposed to say!

Contemplation, death, Family, Life, Me, Native American Women

Rock and Roll Payday Memories

I spent the day on the road. Total miles logged was 230. When you spend that much time alone you have a tendency to think about things that normally you do have time to think about. Today I spent my time thinking about my parents. There are just certain things that trigger memories and then when I am driving I have time to let those thoughts keep running.

My mother died 3 years ago. Her passing was not easy. She was ill and she had suffered a heart attack. She lingered for two weeks in a hospital that was far from her home. She was not alone, one of her daughters and her husband were there with her. My father died several years prior to her passing. His passing was not easy. He suffered complications of diabetes after a surgery. He was not alone, two of his daughters, his sisters and several of his nieces and nephews were there when he passed.

I think of this and I am glad to have been an intimate part of that passing. I wish that I had been able to be there for my mother as well but I am glad that the same sister who stood with me while my father passed, stood by my mothers’ side as well. I can think of no greater expression of love than to be present at the passing of a loved one. To hold that hand and to say “I love you” or “thank you” or whatever is on your mind to say at that last moment.

The first thing I do is to plug in the ipod and cue up Janis Joplin. I play the entire uploaded album as loud as my factory installed speakers will allow while singing along with Janis and I smile because she was one of my mother’s favorite musicians. The I look for a convenience store, any one will do as long as they sell Payday candy bars. I buy the biggest one I can find and I eat the whole candy bar, savoring every bite and I smile because this was my dad’s favorite candy bar.

While I complete these little rituals I have established for myself I wonder about my parents. I wonder where they are? I wonder what important works they are working on these days? I wonder which of their heathen children they are watching closely today?

I hear so many people lament over the loss of a loved one that spend so much of their lives espousing their belief in a Creator and an afterlife that promises to be so much better than this life we live on this world but when push comes to shove…what they actually believe is far from what they have espoused. The absolute lack of faith explains so much to me.

For me, blaring Janis Joplin and wolfing down a Payday candy bar are the traditions that I hope I am passing down to my own daughter who someday will face these things. Someday she will think of me. I trust that she will just play the music she knows I love and eat a candy bar that was my favorite and smiles knowing that my new adventure has begun. I hope she wonders what I am up to and I trust she knows that I am having a blast.

She will then take everything that I have given her and pass those things on to her daughter and that makes me so happy. I know deep in my heart that my parents are happy about this as well, whatever they are doing today.

Contemplation, Life, Me, Native American Women

I got this…..

When we were young we did crazy things. We tried new things. Sometimes we were really excited about what we were up to and sometimes we were just a bundle of nerves hoping the outcome was just a little bit successful.

I say these things because I am here again, although not nearly as young as I would like to be. Mostly I am excited but my nerves are starting to vibrate.

I can honestly say that I make my own decisions and I know this so I know that whatever comes of my choices now are of my own doing. I cannot help but hope that this does not turn out like my first meatloaf, as small as a pound of butter but weighed as much as a brick of gold…it was so bad we could not eat it and in those days we ate anything. Of course, I was not alone in that creation nor was I a cook and I am happy to say that over the years I have improved my cooking skills and these days my meatloaf is quite tasty.

The toughest choice I have ever had to make in my life I made in fear. Years later, looking back at the course of my life, if asked, I can answer that my only regret being that I did not give myself enough credit. I was stronger than I thought at that time but I was young. Had I chosen the other road, I would have been just fine. Hindsight being 20/20 and all that.

I have been working on this manifestation stuff, like most people I know, needing more money than I have. Out of the blue my caseload doubles. Well, the opportunity was presented to me, excited and scared I said yes. As the poster child for the Procrastinators of America there is potential here for some real disaster. As a master manifestor-in-training…this will be interesting to say the least as I am sure that my paperwork did not just double, I think it quadrupled.

I just need to remember now that I am stronger than I give myself credit for and that having taken this particular road, I will be fine…I got this!

Contemplation, Me, Native American Women

My Great Golfing Adventure…Not!

Overall I have to say that I am happy with me. I have done things that I wanted to do. I have tried things that scared me and survived to tell the tales of my adventures. There are things that I would still like to try and lessons yet to be learned. I have declined some adventures because some lessons can be learned from watching others. Whether they fail or succeed I can learn just fine from here, thank you very much.

But there is one adventure I have yet to take and somebody is going to have to explain the draw to me. I mean, I feel it, I really do. There is something peaceful in the watching and I do like that but there is something else and I cannot explain it, yet. I do feel, however, that this is an adventure that I cannot take alone. I can see that it is possible to walk those links alone but you never see a lone person whacking away at that little ball. At least I never see a lone person whacking away at a little ball.

There are men and women who participate, there are all colors of people who love this game, age does not seem to be an issue so I am confident that I would not be out of place. But when? Who? Where? I am getting impatient waiting on someone to take me golfing. I have my own clubs thanks to a dear friend who decided that his career of walking the greens was over. He said, “we are about the same height so these will work for you just fine”. He was right, the clubs fit me perfectly. My golf bag is not fancy, not pink, not new, but it is functional. My son-in-law, excited that I wanted to learn bought me all kinds of tees and yes, pink balls. I have a glove that fits my hand. I even have a girlfriend who has volunteered to drive the cart around, as she has no desire to actually golf she just wants to be part of the adventure.

Three summers have come and gone and still those clubs sit in my closet. I am getting discouraged. Am I wrong? Should I go alone? Is it socially acceptable for a lone person who has no clue to show up at some community course and “just do it”? I’m not feeling that. I think I am supposed to be part of a group, at the very least, of a twosome.

Contemplation, Life, Me, Native American Women

Skeins of Life

I wish that crocheting really was relaxing. I sit down with a skein of yarn and I dream of big things…pretty things…useful things. Truth be told, I know one stitch. The “granny square”. It’s a cool stitch to be sure but there are times when I would like to crochet a different pattern.

Rather than lament about my inability I will be glad that I can work that granny square into some pretty awesome afghans given all the modern colors they can do yarn in these days.

I listen to other women talk about how relaxing it is to sit and crochet. It is not so for me. I don’t know why but I attack the yarn, crochet hook in hand, with that same attitude I attack most projects I get involved in….keep going until it is done. My shoulders are a bunched mess of muscle, my fingers ache from holding the crochet hook in one hand that the yarn in the other. My eyes burn from keeping careful watch on the number of stitches I am whipping up as I go.

I took up some old broken tile that needs to be replaced to day, I walked two miles, I cooked three meals, I folded some canvas tarps that needed to be folded (those suckers are heavy) and I did dishes that equaled the cooking I did. After all of these chores were done I could finally sit down and had a chance to relax….but nooOOOooo.

Why do I crochet then? Good question. I like the yarn. I feel the challenge calling after I have taken a skein and rolled it into a ball. Giant-ass ball of yarn staring at me, daring me to make it into something.

I think all of my kids have afghans now, probably most of my grandkids and both of my dogs. I don’t know who needs this afghan but it will be here when the new owner walks into my house. I will feel good when it is done. I will know that I met the challenge thrown out to me. I will have used my talents to the best of my ability…limited as they are. It’s a granny thing, I hear……the making of afghans.

getting in shape, Life, Me, Native American Women

Not very Brave

I had hoped that by this day I would be 1) a non-smoker and 2) could swim a mile without stopping. Here is where I am-can’t claim either. Is that sad?

I was talking to a friend and we were discussing her life and her life choices. She said “I wish I was strong enough, maybe someday I will be that strong”. I told her then that she was strong enough, she proved that everyday. She was a divorced mother of two, raising her babies without any help at all from her ex. That she had strength and she exhibited plenty of it, everyday. I said “what you need is to be brave”…brave enough to tell him (her ex) NO when she needed to. Like when he showed up on her doorstep unannounced and started telling her how everything was going to be. She was very happy with me for telling her she was strong and decided that being brave was something she could definitely work on.

This is, I have decided, where I am as well. The first of the year came around and for a week prior I was thinking about how I was not going to buy cigs anymore. Then the actual 1st came up and I did not stop smoking. I know that this is so bad for me. I know that if I could expand my lungs a bit further I could accomplish a bit more, physically. I have the strength required for the commitment, I lack the bravery required to actually stop. What will I do when I think I need to smoke? What will I do with my hands? How much more will I eat when I can no longer hold that cigarette between my fingers? These are not hard questions…just a little scary when I get to the nitty-gritty of actually getting things done.

I also had decided that since I ended the year able to swim 1/2 mile without stopping that if I kept at it, by the time my birthday came around (end of January) I should be able to swim an entire mile (70 lengths of the pool) without stopping. I had my schedule all mapped out on the calendar. I would swim every Monday, Wednesday and Friday and keep adding a few laps each week and…ta-da…by the end of the month….goal accomplished. But work has been constant and I am far enough behind that it is just too easy to use it as an excuse to not leave my house to head to the pool. Then I actually made it to the pool one day this week, mistimed “open lap” by 30 minutes and did not bring any regular workout clothing with me. I decided just to take a shower, head upstairs and hang upside down on the inversion table for a few minutes. I totally counted it as a full workout seeing how I took my gym bag to the gym and changed clothes during that time. Needless to say, I have not increased the number of laps I can swim.

I have to admit, I am disappointed in myself. I have managed to almost get caught up with my paperwork for my job but not to get my personal goals one step closer to ideal. I will be 52 at the end of January. I thought about this stuff all day today. It is almost midnight (EST) and I am just finishing up my work for the day. At some point I will have to be brave enough to make me my number one priority.

This is something that I can actually work on….

Contemplation, Life, Native American Women

Mirror, mirror…

I found out that a young man I know will spend the next 45 years of his life in prison. I am troubled. My exact words to another friend was “I hate seeing our young men suffer so much”.

I understand the penalty for the crime. I understand why a crime like this was committed. I understand why supporters of this young man are so very upset. These are not my problem, these things I understand.

I have said to more than one person, do not take anything I tell you as gospel. Take everything I tell you to prayer. Ask God, ask Him is I am right. Ask Him if I am telling you the truth. I say this to people because most people have become so very lazy, so much like sheep….just following along with what everyone else is doing without thinking for themselves. I find this to be troubling, to say the least.

My problem is trying to understand why our young men choose to suffer so much when it is needless. There are choices to be made and all choices you make bear consequences you must pay. Some choices are easy and some choices are right. Unfortunately the easy choice is not always the right choice. Often times the right choice is most difficult and that’s where the thinking ends, no further exploration of consequences. The end result? Rarely is it the happy ending you were hoping for.

My next question was “what can we do to help?”. My friend said, “I wish prayer was the answer”. I liked that answer, he was honest. Prayer obviously is not “the answer”. if it were then all of our friends and family would be happy and healthy and rich and full of life. There is a missing key, I think.

Yes, you know what I am going to say….making the right choice. That part is on you. I know that if I want my life to be happy, if I want to be healthy then I must make those choices that end in those consequences. If I want a different end then those things I mentioned then all I have to do is make different choices. So simple. Please notice that I did not say ‘so easy’….because it is not.

I told my friend that there was one thing we could do immediately and consistently and that is to be an example of not suffering so looks like. Be an example to others of what making good choices looks like. Be the mirror for someone who is looking for that one person who is not paying consequences of bad decisions.

The good thing about being a willing example is that it does not mean you are perfect or that you think you are perfect. It simply means that you are ok with others looking closely at your life (today, not your past life) and seeing that you are making choices that bear consequences you are proud to bear.

I cannot make choices for you, as much as you would like for that to happen. I cannot bear consequences caused by your bad choices, those are yours to own. But I will be an example that you can look at when you wonder what happens if you make the right choice over the easy choice. I will continue to pray for you so that as you make your choices you know that you are not alone when facing those hard choices.

I know that I am not perfect and I am just fine with that assessment of me but I do like what I see when I look into my mirror.

firstnationwoman

First Nations Women are the Nations' first ladies

Tag Archives: life coaching