love – The Other Shoe

Turning The Page

July 17, 2024July 17, 2024 Copy Chick

It’s all in the narrative. Turning points are just parts of the story that lead you to the next chapter.

We arrive in this world as cute little blank slates. We come with no instructions and no crystal ball to prophesy about our future selves. As wobbling, curious toddlers, we can’t predict if our home life or school years will inspire us to our full potential or leave us feeling less than. We have no way to foresee what our fates hold. Our cuddly, bawling, newborn selves certainly have no clue. It’s all luck of the draw.

Of course, that fact has never has stopped us from bumbling into life full throttle. We charge ahead until we reach a turning point, where street signs are often as useless as Google maps. I’m sure, like me, you’re often wondered who you would have been or how things might have been different if we had a plan and a map. But crossroads, like most things in life, are not always clear. So, we stumble ahead, armed with our instincts and whatever confidence, or lack of, we were given for the journey. We do the best we can and, while we don’t always navigate as well as we wish we could have, we often we get it more than right. Sometimes we even stick the landing. Yea, us.

Life is always at some turning point. Irwin Edman

As kids we’re pretty much at the mercy of our parents/caregivers and the home, school and financial situation we were plopped into. For the most part, we wind our way through the maze of adolescent and teen years without breaking too many things along the way. We do the best we can with the knowledge and capability we have as young people, which means we’re pretty cocky about knowing everything about nothing. Well played, kid.

We make plenty of mistakes and have plenty of excuses until one day, we cross over to the age of responsibility with no net beneath us. Congratulations. You’re reached your first big turning point. You’ll have plenty of missteps but you’re finally on your own and it feels pretty damn good – most of the time. However, as we find out soon enough, adulting isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be and the tightrope we walk is often unsteady.

Decisions are all on us now. Sometimes, we make pretty damn good ones; sometimes they’re more than questionable. If we’re lucky, we marry the love of our life or, at least they seem to be. We take first steps into careers we either love or tolerate. We inhabit our first home and learned to balance work and digital checkbooks. We become parents, ushering a brand new generation into the world. Endless schedules posted on refrigerators dictate our stressed and busy world. Yet, for the most part, we’re happily content within the bubble of our family dream — until another turning point sneaks around the corner.

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View from the Shoe

Letting Go Sucks; Then Sets You Free.

June 17, 2024June 17, 2024 Copy Chick

Life is just a continual balance of letting go — and holding on.

Photo by Fuu J on Unsplash

How often do we have to DO this thing? All. The. Time. From the instant we open our newborn eyes, we begin the process of letting go. And it doesn’t get easier from there. Life is an endless parade of leaving what we know for the unknown.

We have to lose the training wheels to bike on our own. We leave our mothers at the door on our first day in school. Letting go is what we do. Remember when you discovered the jolly fat man in the overloaded sleigh didn’t travel the world by reindeer to drop gifts by the sackful down our chimneys? Letting go of that was harsh, right? Ditto the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy. No one wants to give up what makes our hearts happy.

“One of the hardest lessons in life is letting go. Whether it’s guilt, anger, love or loss, change is never easy. We fight to hold on and we fight to let go”.

As we leave childhood behind, as training wheels become motorized in our first car, and teen-postered bedrooms becomes college dorms, we release more of the familiar. We get married, have children and one day, we let them go, too. As we learn more of the world, as hurts begin to form scar tissue, our naivete and innocence is left behind. Our hearts get nicked and dented and, the more we open them, the more we risk. Yet, we do it anyway.

The first time we feel the heavy impact of grown up ‘letting go’ is when a person we love walks away. They say sometimes you win and sometimes you learn, but the learning thing can kneecap you almost as much as the person who made the exit. From our first crush, a dating split or divorce, it ain’t ever easy. Breaking the same heart that loves someone so deeply sadly is the price of admission in life.

“Getting over painful experiences is like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” C.S.Lewis

Then someone you love dies, and their leaving wasn’t because their love stopped but because their heart did. That’s when the loss of letting go is multiplied endlessly. Whether you lose a parent, sibling, spouse or the very worst – a child, this letting go takes a mega chunk out of everything that makes you tick. And it takes quite a while to get your balance back, your trust in life and to repair your fractured heart.

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Chick stuff

Heartbroken — Or Just Hungry?

May 19, 2024June 10, 2024 Copy Chick

Breakups don’t have to leave you broken.

Life is messy. No matter how neatly we think plan it, reality can barge in and wreck the place. My happily ever after was decimated nearly nine years ago when my husband died suddenly. His traumatic exit kneecapped me, so, yes, life is indeed messy and unpredictable. In the aftermath first few years, I just tried to find my way back to normalcy, whatever that is. I leaned on friends — and then on written words. My blog ‘Write Brain Widow’ became my therapy. Though I had a good game face, it was clear I still had miles of widows’ weeds to slog through without losing my mind or sense of humor. What began as self-help, became my voice as well.

Four years later, I realized I still had a heck of a lot to say — but needed a wider berth to say it in. While we never forget grief or those who installed it, at some point we need to graduate and spread our wings again. Reinvention never gets easier. To help download the 2.0 version of myself, I started “The Other Shoe’ blog. The name seemed a good metaphor for my life.

As words poured out again on the digital page, I was in the middle of an internal maze with no real idea of the end game or exit. I realized I still missed my matching puzzle piece. Ying to my Yang, my spouse/business partner could kick me out of creative slumps — or annoy me until I did. Who knew, that with always something to say in an insistently crazier world, I’d actually be at a loss for words!

But, I was. Profoundly.

Hiding in my own space while changing in so many ways, feelings and issues felt too private to share publicly. Barely growing into them myself, I was deactivating in another area of Oz. Only now have I realized it was time to put my goggles on, take a deep breath and jump back into the pool. I don’t know yet if I’m just treading water – or actually making headway toward the deep end, but I’m trusting you’ll tell me.

Two years ago, I’d finally arrived in a pretty good place. Not quite the proverbial Taj Mahal, but decent enough to settle back into my semi-confident, usually optimistic self. I was actually minding my own damn business when the universe decided to bring someone I once cared for very much back into my life. Decades earlier, divorced boy met divorced girl, fell in love, and broke up. In the ensuing years, one of us lived very happily alone; the other very happily married. Believing we were handed a miraculous second chance, we feel headfirst in love again.

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Grief is Grief

Camelot . . . Or Something Like It.

March 23, 2022March 23, 2022 Copy Chick

I’m a 60’s kid. I admit to bell-bottoms, Beatles and banana bikes. But the psychedelic flavor of those colorful days also brought the iconic musical Camelot, a romantic tale of knights and maidens, later co-opted by a couple in the White House named Kennedy. Once upon a time, I found my own version of Camelot, or at least as close as I would ever get to it since our story began in the middle. And though we lived the time-honored vows of ‘sickness and health’ in technicolor, I never factored in that happily ever after wasn’t in the cards.

Then again, Camelot isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

In fact, both in fiction and application to life, the tale was very different than Lerner and Lowe’s magical creation. While, like the mythological King Arthur, beginnings of almost everything are built on the best hopes and ideals, there always seems to be an unseen Merlin, whose machinations run opposite to our best hopes.

“What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes part of us.” Helen Keller

My Camelot came complete with a room full of tiny medieval toy knights, that often threatened to overrun the place. My husband’s affinity for the little suckers necessitated his building carefully crafted castles, drawbridges and moats as strongholds against miniature armies of weapon-wielding knights. Unfortunately, even alligator filled moats are no match for cancer but knowing my funny husband, he would have had a comeback for that.

“Marriage has no guarantees. If that’s what you’re looking for, live with a car battery.” Erma Bombeck.

People say a knight in shining armor are often those who never had their mettle tested. I met a few of them; I even dated them. You know, those dudes whose shiny metal suits were actually tin foil. That’s why I almost missed the knight whose armor had as many dings and dents as his car bumper. He was the real deal who fought his share of dragons, especially the most fearsome of all. I witnessed that man’s spirit, self-confidence, courage and self-esteem tried beyond toleration yet, each time, he got back on that horse (actually a green Nissan) to battle another day. Yet, even those who earn their knighthoods, through years of epic battling the two-headed beast, can still be defeated.

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Holiday Madness

ENOUGH . . . is a feast.

November 23, 2021November 24, 2021 Copy Chick

Nothing encapsulates the meaning of Thanksgiving more than this Buddhist proverb. When we realize gratitude isn’t turkey or a holiday but a way of being, we are already blessed.

Not every Thanksgiving finds us spilling over with gratitude. Times of loss, of grief, of illness all color our gratitude scale. At times, we might even feel as carved out as the bird on the table, yet there are always blessings to be found, often in abundance. And that gratitude is what we share with others.

It’s easy to be thankful when life goes our way but when bad things happen, it’s a lot tougher to see the silver lining. When we look around or even back, we find moments of peace, joy, laughter and love. Sometimes, pictures help jog our memory so I thought I’d use a few to express some pictorial gratitude of my own this Thanksgiving.

**Expect nothing. Appreciate everything.**

**Even during a soul-traumatizing pandemic, the ‘helpers’ showed what it is to be life affirming. Hopefully we will not ever forget to be grateful** **but to also . . . pay it forward.**

**The secret to having it all, is feeling you already do**.

Life is full of surprises.

Let the great ones take your breath away.

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Copy that., Grief is Grief

Just Say It.

May 27, 2020May 28, 2020 Copy Chick

Pandemics have a nasty habit of making us question things we take for granted. When life seems a whole lot more fragile, words become a lot more important. Don’t let the right ones get away.

Whether you’re speaker or listener, words matter. They can heal or hurt; inspire or humiliate, encourage, teach or comfort. They can be the tiebreaker in an argument; a deal breaker in a relationship. They can make someone feel important or diminished; deeply hurt or transformed with love. They can criticize, accuse, or malign. The can also soften a heart and change the trajectory of someone’s life. Words can change lives for worse or for better; or through their absence, leave a hole that is often never filled.

The give and take of words is all part of human speak. We ask work questions about marketing and quality control. We ask about freshness of the lettuce or what’s on sale that day. We ask our kids it they remembered to pack their homework and sneakers for gym as they run out the door. More often than not, we don’t give a whole lot of thought to the mundane exchanges we have every day. Yet, the power of our words is immeasurable.

You better know that in the end, it’s better to say too much
Than to never to say what you need to say again. John Mayer

There are people who never stop talking and who knows, I may be one of them. But, with all our talk, talk, talk, what is really said? We use hundreds of words every day – but how many cut to the chase of life? How many of us carve out that critical second to say the one thing that could transform a heart? In a world as uncertain, as volatile as we live today, we are all painfully aware of our human vulnerability. We are reminded each day, as we see numbers across the world tell the story of humans gone too suddenly, that life is not forever. Just as words we say in haste or anger form a destructive legacy that never be taken back, many that need to be said, that could change everything in someone’s world, are not. The time when they could be spoken is no longer and there is no better proof than the now 100,000 people who have gone forever. Words we wish to have said have disappeared into the ether.

There is no time to leave important words unsaid. Paulo Coelho

In my book, the most magic words in life are often the simplest, yet time slips by and what we meant to say disappears with it. Yet, words, those very words, can mean the world like:

Thank you. It always amazes me how little we acknowledge kindness and thoughtfulness. Sure we dole out automatic thank you’s like M&M’s, with no real thought. Now, I’m totally onboard with politeness, in any setting, but authentic, cognizant gratitude is the real deal. My mother always told me, if you don’t thank someone who sends you a gift, you don’t deserve it. Words on paper count, too. But as treasured as a call or thank-you note is, the heart behind the thank you makes all the difference. Don’t sell these words short. From a grocery checker to a child being thoughtful, these two little words say ‘I see you – and you matter.’

I’m sorry. Even if you did something you totally regret and would never do again, an ‘I’m sorry’ is the way to go. In fact, these two little words are some of the most important you can ever say. Apologizing never comes easy. In fact, when we are really pissed, (it happens) that ‘I’m sorry’ seems almost impossible. Said from the heart, though, it means we learned the hard way, that we realized we hurt someone and even if what we did won’t go down in history as Titanic sized, we are truly bummed it happened. Taking responsibility for our actions can go a long way to healing our relationships – and ourselves.

Forgive me. When we value a relationship, our greatest hope, when something goes wrong, is to repair it and restore it to its original condition. We should never take a person we cherish or their forgiveness for granted. Extending the proverbial olive branch with hope, not expectation, is a leap of faith. Acceptance is their gift to us, not an automatic expectation.

I love you. Don’t wait for the funeral or the door closing to tell people how you feel about them. Say it when it counts. Say it as often as it needs to be said or as often as you feel it. Say it before it’s too late. And people who grieve the 100,000 authentic, cherished people, claimed without warning by COVID-19, may always wonder, as I did when my own husband died suddenly, if “I love you” could have been said just one more time. No matter how many times “I love you” is said or even written, not one of us will ever say, “No more. I’m good thanks”.

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Chick stuff, Holiday Madness

Flower Grinch

February 13, 2019February 21, 2019 Copy Chick

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I may have come from the land of misfit toys but, full disclosure, I’m not the biggest fan girl of flowers. Shocker – and on Valentine’s Day, too. But, I have no intention of turning in my woman card. I’m still a warm and fuzzy Libra girl who just isn’t a total sucker for a floral bouquet. Working in my parents’ florist shop might have something to do with my blasé attitude toward blooms. Nothing says bursting the floral mystique more than frantic holidays of cranky last minute orders, stripping thorns and using enough floral tape to giftwrap the entire planet.

Admittedly, flowers are pretty, gorgeous even, but well, they die. Ooops. Shakespeare once asked “Is it better to love and lose than never love at all?” Despite that great advice, the concept of ‘perishable’ never held a lot of appeal – especially in these last 3 years. Still flowers can make your day and have made many of mine, but for reasons other than their horticultural wonder.

“At my age, flowers scare me.” George Burns

The mushy artist in me has been super appreciative of flowers that came to my door looking utterly gorgeous, especially the exotic, wildly lush ones. Some have been flashy, in eye-popping colors and some sailed in, softly hued and gentle as fairy dreams. Humans are wired to love flowers simply because they are beautiful. In fact, when we think of the word beautiful, one of the first things that comes to mind IS a flower. Continue reading “Flower Grinch” →

Grief is Grief

Keeping It…REAL

July 10, 2016February 3, 2019 Copy Chick

pakiet.na-zdrowie.3 Newsflash – No matter how any of us try to be perfect – that’s not happening. Neither people – or marriages are born to be perfect. Sure, we may WANT perfect, the ideal — but REAL is what we get.

Marriage is rarely a Hallmark movie or 24/7 euphoria. Instead, authentic marriage means sacrifice, issues, chores, schedules, love, irritation, thoughtfulness, forgiveness, anger, affection (not always in that order). It’s also idiocyncrasies, snoring, worries, richer and poorer. When critical illness and its side effects enters the mix, now that really transforms the playing field. One partner undergoes endless procedures/surgeries, diminished quality of life, anger, pain and fear. The other juggles worry, research, is the keeper of the medical records, and caretaker extraordinaire. That was our marriage; that was our REAL.

I’ve poured my heart out these past months, writing about deep grief, and the missing of a husband I loved beyond words. It came to me recently, that the painting was incomplete. It was in black and white with pieces missing. While stark pen and ink art has always been my forte, when it comes to portraying a real picture of real marriage, black and white doesn’t cut it. Grief outlined only in high contrast is pretty flawed and does a disservice to the flavors and colorations a real marriage holds. Continue reading “Keeping It…REAL” →

Politics and other awkward stuff

A rainbow of grief

June 14, 2016February 3, 2019 Copy Chick

7b47cba0-12f0-0134-e753-0a315da82319 All the colors of humanity, of love, of loss. We saw each in Orlando in terrifying technicolor this weekend. Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters – lost. Each of us, who’ve lost the person closest to us, know well the journey their families now will take. Those families, those parents, siblings, grandparents had their hearts ripped out in a second of senseless violence. San Bernadino, Newtown, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook. Adults, children all cut down in the business of living.

Plumbing the depth of my own loss, the slicing off of an artery in your heart without warning, I can’t help but think about the people grieving this week. Many years ago, my young brother died at 19 of leukemia. His loss was immeasurable and I saw my parents nearly destroyed by it. A life that never got to be lived. Watching the mother weeping uncontrollably for news of the son she couldn’t find in the melee, I recognized the anguish. And knew the bottomless pain she now will swim through.

Her son did not survive.

I usually write of my own trip through loss that I never packed for, but tonight my words are for Orlando, the latest headline from hell. There is way too much talk of hate, of exclusion, of retribution – and no healing, no coming together, no real answers. I’m angry, frustrated that weapons of war (um, you don’t need an assault rifle for hunting deer – or PEOPLE!) are available at ANY level especially for the unstable, violent or disenfranchised. The time has come to listen for truth within the rhetoric and for more than tears and talk. I can only hope it is now.

We need to remember the trusting children who left for school, those who went to work, or a casual night of celebration — and never returned home. And we need to remember the families whose new normal will be mourning.

I have questions and no answers. Maybe all we can do is think carefully about Mahatma Gandi’s words “The future depends on what we do in the present” because if we do nothing – there will be no future.