the parable of the unlaced combat boot

It's thursday December 22nd around 5:00 am.  I woke up about an hour ago and curled up in bed with my thoughts before I decided to come downstairs and write.  It's dark everywhere, except for the light coming from the christmas tree.  I am listening to pitter-patter of rain on the windows as well as the Felicity soundtrack from my laptop.

If we have a baby girl next month, I'd like to name her Felicity.  The name means happiness.  Happiness is a great way to describe how we feel about her arrival and the state of our family life during this pregnancy.  Aaron and I have come to an agreement that if it's a girl, I get to name her.  If it's a boy, he can pick the name.  My top boy name is FLOYD.  Floyd is his dad's middle name and I think it's totally bad-A.  Aaron isnt on the same page, unfortunately, with either Felicity or Floyd.  This is why we divide and conquer when it comes to hard decisions like naming our kids, or go generic to find a common ground.  What would it be like to be married to a man that agreed with my name choices?  I will never know.

I am not really an emotional pregnant woman.  I mean, I cry.  I have emotions.  But I don't cry often and when I do it's over totally bizarre and insignificant things.

When I was 8 months pregnant with Eden, Aaron lost his job.  I didn't shed a single tear.  We were in a really confusing stage in life, not knowing if it was right to stay put or move closer to extended family.  Everything was up in the air and I DIDN'T want to leave Vegas, but I didn't worry about it too much.  Then, out of the blue in the middle of church, as I bent down to grab something off the floor, the underwire to my favorite bra snapped in half.  I could NOT stop the tears.  In fact, three years later, here I am, getting all teary eyed over that amazing bra.  I loved it so much.  I have yet to find a replacement that makes me feel as comfortable and happy as that bra.

This pregnancy has kind of been the same way when it comes to the way I've handled my emotions.  The "big" things don't phase me too much.  There have been a few tough conversations I've had with family members over religion.  It should send me over the edge, but I really feel like dealing it without jumping to conclusions or taking it personally is healthy and that it will all smooth out over time.  I feel no stress or anxiety about it.  But the day-to-day things.... like losing my keys when the kids are all ready to leave is the END.of.the.WORLD.  I only have one set of keys to my van right now and I MUST know where that set is at all times or I will have a nervous breakdown.

Yesterday I got up early and showered for the day.  That's unusual for me to be ready before lunch.  Actually, it's unusual for me to be ready before dinner.  I usually take a bubble bath each night, so why do my hair and makeup if it's all just going to come off later, ya know?  Anyway, yesterday I was determined to take on the day and dressed to the nines, in all black.  I decided to wear my combat boots because they are the only black shoes I own and I felt like combating.  I asked Roma if she would help me tie them because bending over and lacing up those boots seemed impossible.  As I took a solid ten minutes to lace up one boot, Roma took over the other, but I was too busy bending over and concentrating on breathing, I didn't realize that Roma had pulled out my shoe lace completely instead of tightening it.  She handed my lace over and I started crying.  Tears just flowed down my face as if she had just stabbed me in the back.  I felt so betrayed and helpless.  How could she do that to me?????

I am not sure how long it took me to lace the shoe again, put it back on my swollen foot and tie it up, but I cried through the whole process.  The simplest things are sometimes the most difficult to deal with.  When I am in a fragile state, I just want to be able to do what I want to be able to do, and if I can't, I fall apart.  I just want to tie my shoes and breath at the same time. Is that too much to ask for?

The rest of the day, my eyes would fill up with tears just thinking about those who have chronic illnesses that aren't visible to the rest of us.  Being in a physically or emotionally fragile state without being able to ask for help without sounding pathetic sounds like the worst way to live.  Just thinking about all of the people in this world who can't do what they want to do when they want to do it makes me emotional.  If you are depressed and can't roll yourself out of bed, I am crying for you right now.  Not because I think you're pathetic, but because you are awesome.  And I know how it feels to be awesome, but still not be able to do what you want to do.  I hope things get better.  And if they don't, I hope you have a really comfortable pillow to cry on.

For me, not being able to roll out of bed in the morning is death.  I would rather die than stay in bed. Obviously, I am being a little dramatic here, but my entire day is about the early morning hours.  I don't know what it is about being outside to watch the sun come up, but it literally gives my body enthusiasm and excitement.  I can physically feel the light and energy fill my cells and I feed off of that energy for the rest of the day...  If I don't get up early, I usually don't have the enthusiasm to get anything done.  I would love to know exactly how many hours of sleep I need to function well, but if I had to take a guess I would say it's 4-5.  If I sleep more than 8, I think I am in a real sad state.  When I am unhappy, I sleep.  When I am excited about life, I am on my feet.

My best friend Jane read a book recently that reminded her of me.  I am going to do a terrible job retelling the story, and I don't even have a book title to reference from right now.  But she told me a story of a man who was on his death bed in the hospital.  He had no chance of survival.  So in his sorry state, he found himself leaving his hospital room and making his way up to the roof of the hospital to watch the sun rise.  The hospital staff thought that he was trying to commit suicide, so they sent him home to die.  When he got home, he continued his ritual of waking up to watch the sunrise.  Every morning, he woke up before the sun and sat outside to breath the fresh air and soon he realized something profound.  The birds started chirping all at the same time 40 something minutes before the sun peaked.  He became interested and started methodically keeping a journal of when the birds started singing and sure enough, it was the EXACT same 42 minutes before sunrise.  After research, he realized that trees start to photosynthesize (release oxygen) at their highest levels 42 minutes before the sun comes up.  His conclusion was that sunrise is the healthiest part of the day and that birds sing to fill their lungs with the healthiest air.  After a steady ritual of being outside and breathing in the freshest air and listening to the song of the birds healed this man completely and (according to the book, or according to my friend who read the book and then told me this story) the man is still alive today, teaching others about why it's so good to be outside, breathing in fresh air in the morning.

How cool is that story?  And the thing is... I KNEW THAT before she told me or any scientists measured the levels of oxygen in the air.  I've known it in my bones (for as long as I can remember) that I am most alive and the healthiest in the morning.  Is the sunrise beautiful to watch?  Always.  But it's more about the way I feel inside when I am outside, breathing in the sun.  I am looking forward to the time when I will exercise while watching... but for right now, my swing on my bedroom balcony is my sanctuary.  I feel more energized, empowered, enlightened, inspired than I have ever felt in a church sermon or in a conversation with anyone else.  (And for this reason I am not even sure I want to exercise in the morning because it might distract from that hour of meditation.)  I brought my phone outside for a while to take pictures of the sunrise and share what I was reading and thinking about, but then my phone died for a week and NOT having it out there was even better.  So I stopped documenting.  Kind of sad about it because... man, I didn't take pictures of some amazing views.  I bring books to read and sometimes I read chapters and sometimes I read a couple of lines, but always my mind is still and open to process my thoughts.  I have been able to completely "heal" over negative situations or conversations in my life on that balcony swing, just by sitting there and thinking.  I can take a scenario, (mine or a friend/client I hope to help) and I can process it in a way that completely takes out ALL negativity.  Not in a Polyanna, there is no reason to feel sad or upset, kind of way.  But in a way that gives the situation POWER, but only enough power to get over it, to easily let it go and leave you feeling so much stronger and better than you were before it ever showed up in the first place.  All experiences are here to teach us.  The difficult experiences teach us more.

Am I getting too cheesy or hippie or weird?  I hope it doesn't sound complicated, because it's the most simple process.  I wish I could spell it out as simply as it is in my mind, but take for instance my shoe lace that Roma untied.  Here (would be) the thought process I go through..

She is such a brat.
WHY would she do something so mean and cruel?
She is the WORST child ever.
She doesn't appreciate anything I do for her and she makes my life difficult on so many levels.
Am I overacting?  Probably.
Lacing up my shoe again isn't going to take me forever.
Dang, this sucks.
I can't bend over.
I hope I don't suffocate myself or my baby by bending in half.
I want to quit, but I can't.
I can do this.
There are so many people out there who can't tie their shoes either...
And not because they are in a temporary state of pregnancy.  This is their life on a day to day basis and it won't ever get better for them.
Wow.  They are amazing.
They keep waking up and going, even when they don't want to.
Whoever they are, those people who struggle to tie their shoes or roll out of bed, I will never know.
It could be anyone and so they are now everyone.
I hardly ever notice them because they don't draw attention to themselves.
I am sending out gratitude and love and appreciation for them, as well sympathy and admiration for those who deal with things that are too hard for them to talk about.
I hope I can touch them in some way.
I hope they feel comfortable to open to me.
They are my heroes.
I am a freaking hero too.  I am seriously a rockstar....
Look at my shoes.  I laced them up all by myself!
The boot that got completely untied is stronger and feels better than the other.
But I'm not going to untie the other, no chance of that.
Thank you sweet, gorgeous, adorable daughter of mine.
You are constantly helping me become stronger and more enlightened.
I love that you are in my life because you bring out the best side of me.
I bet that you also have struggles that you can't or won't talk about.
I hope, eventually, I will be the safe place for you to open up or the shoulder you can cry on.

Sounds and looks totally cheesy typed up like that, but it was a process I went through yesterday and now those positive thoughts of love and gratitude are carrying me inot the early morning hours of the next day.  The sun is now up.  I can't see it because it's a little cloudy and drizzly outside.  But I am going to lace up my tennis shoes (much easier than my boots) and I am going to take a walk outside for a few minutes until I feel refreshed enough but not quite frozen.  December 22 is going to be a good day, I can feel it.