The Brilliance of Resilience

I was in the middle of writing a post about the Foo Fighters when I found out that Andy had died last week. Andy's son posted a brief message on Facebook and everyone that has posted about Andy since  then understands exactly what happened. When someone dies in a way that isn't easy to understand, a lot of words aren't going to clarify and the platitudes aren't going to heal. Andy was troubled and treating, but sometimes it is just not enough. Andy left that grown son as well as three school-aged children and their lives are irrevocably changed in a way that none of us will anticipate: whether it is peace in knowing that their mother is not suffering or the agony of knowing that their existence was not enough for Andy to keep fighting...or perhaps both. Andy and I knew each other through email only, but we shared stories about our lives. We shared music and what we did that day, and the struggle that she had just to exist came through in her words. Sometimes, I compar...

I've broken the thirty pound mark for weight loss since my reboot of my cognizance of the fact that I need to do something about myself. When I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office this past Autumn, I was the heaviest I had ever been. Like, the number that I never thought would be on the scale. Like, the pivotal number that I yell at people on television about when they're six-hundred pounds in a pre-gastric bypass video and they're crying about being enabled and helpless as someone bathes them. When I read the scale, I was literally shocked. I knew I had gained weight in the last year, and I knew that I had soothed with food after a pretty shit year, but that number is literally burned into my brain as the place where I knew that if I didn't do something that I would be six-hundred pounds crying about my helplessness and my enablers. So, November 2 was the pivotal moment that I got it together and started really thinking about how I wanted to spend the next ...

I am incredibly disappointed in myself for not writing a letter in this blog since June of last year. Admittedly, I was on some kind of metaphysical high from all of the changes that had gone on in my life, and I was absolutely delirious with the possibilities that awaited me after a marriage-ending, a retreat back to my childhood home and a realization about the fact that I was genuinely starting over. From June through the present, I've gotten a little less dreamy about what is going on in my life, and a little more understanding about the fact that people can, in fact, be infatuated with the idea of reinventing themselves in every conceivable way. That "Eat, Pray, Love" woman forgot to mention that you still need to make your car payment, hand wash your bras and figure out how to get through the holidays without drinking and eating yourself into oblivion. The truth is is that I am still reeling from the way that my marriage ended. I am at fault for not handling this ...

I've been reading a ton about creating a personal altar. I think that this is particularly great idea at this point in my life, because it gives me the opportunity to create a sacred space for meditation, reflection, or just a sense of calmness among some of the general chaos that arises when you're an adult living with your parents, two cats and six chickens (just saying). Last night I set to work and started collecting items. I had some things that I wanted from the old apartment, some things that I'd collected since my transition to my parent's house and some things that seemed to have always been with me no matter where I've gone. I moved my record player and created a space that hopefully will be accessible to be me daily for a brief pause to reflect on the day ahead or the day that has just passed. I also took the plunge and ordered a smudging kit to go with the sage that I'd purchased last weekend and the Palo Santo I ordered this week. Needless to say,...

Alright, so the title of this post is a little harsh, but I'd like to think that there's some humour to my flow, right? I'm writing about something that is the very essence of a love/hate relationship: Facebook. I just rejoined FB after an eight month hiatus and I'm feeling two things. First, joy to see everyone again that I just don't keep in touch with via email or other social media platforms (c'mon ya'll, we know that Twitter is where I figure out what Wil Wheaton is having for lunch). Second, absolute (and I'm working on this one, so don't get sassy) disdain with myself for succumbing to the pratfalls of this particular social media platform. Let's face it, LinkedIn is fine for your work friends, and email is good for your coupons and amazon order tracking numbers, but FB is ideal for keeping in touch with relatives whose phone numbers you've misplaced or never had, and those friends from high school and college that you kind of know, bu...

I've been listening to music a lot lately thanks to having Spotify available to me at work and in the car. I mean, I've always been particularly in love with music in general, but I've been really immersed in my own world recently. It's awesome! Although I haven't taken the plunge and paid for the premium service, I've definitely gotten my money's worth out of the free service. I've hear so many new artists, cool covers and old standards that I've been thinking about for years but haven't taken the time to search and listen previously. Although I consider myself pretty, "with it," I have missed the boat on so many different artists both new and old. I'm having a total blast discovering and rediscovering artists' work. I never really gave Lyle Lovett a chance. I think that I was a little young when he first emerged on the scene, married Julia Roberts after a three-week courtship and caused a sensation because he didn't...

I got a message on Friday that my co-worker's Grandmother had died in an assisted living facility the day after she had taken her children to say goodbye. Her children are relatively young and were taking the impending death of their Great-Grandmother particularly hard, as this is the closest person in their lives that had ever passed away. I thought about this while sitting in my cubicle, feeling powerless to help them understand that their lives would be irrevocably changed. Truthfully, no matter how old you are, when you lose your Grandmother, you lose part of your ability to be a child. These seem like harsh words, but it's really two-fold. While you'll never have that person that loves you like no one else could, you'll start to really relish a lifetime of lessons that she taught you on how to be a courageous and loving person. If Grandmothers are anything in this world, they're the teachers and the storytellers that make people into the loving and compassion...