I believe the avenue to happiness is through gratitude and forgiveness. Be grateful for everything you have. Let go of everything that was lost or taken from you. In turn, your heart will be full.
*Edit* written in 2011 before the birth of two beautiful babies and the death of one beautiful husband – and I still hold onto this belief. Im doing my best to not let this loss define me.
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| Detroit 2011 |
This is not a unique thought. It’s probably been written already. I wouldn’t know because I’ve been doing my best to avoid political opinions. But eh, it’s my blog, and I’m feeling a certain sort of something about politics right now; mostly, underrepresented, so I’m going write it out…
Holy smokes – anger, anger, anger. That’s all I’m seeing in the political realm. Anger that Trump was elected. Anger toward liberals who show disappointment in the election. Yikes.
My personal disappointment came several months ago when each party nominated two of the most morally inept candidates that I could have thought up. Therefore, going into the election, I was deeply sad that either way we’d have someone who physically turned my stomach.
A rude, misogynistic bully or a sneaky, criminal career politician representing us.
What I’ve come to terms with these last six months: Either way, the president is just a figure head. People were just as scared of Bush second term – and there was another group on the other side of the spectrum extremely frightened of President Obama. Like I said, a figure head (politically fancy term for mascot). Unfortunately, our mascot sucks right now. That doesn’t change anything about our every day life.
It really doesn’t.
If your life was easy before, it will be easy now. If it was difficult before, it’s still going to be difficult. What makes a difference in your day-to-day life? Investing in the people closest to you.
Starting with our homes and moving to our communities – Let’s work to improve and stabilize what’s around us, and then, let us watch our lives bloom regardless of the mascot living miles away.
Even before we work to improve our home situation or our community, we must work to improve our mindsets. Hate and bitterness is not productive. Positive blooms only within positive.
With that, I’ll end this in a Mother Teresa quote (because no one can argue with her 😊)
Big love, Meg
Grief.
Contrary to what I thought prior, it’s not an emotion. It’s a condition. An illness.
I am ‘fine’ for several minutes strung together at a time. I can even carry on a light conversation without losing “it”. Once again, I can do this for several minutes.
Then the wave washes over me.
And that’s when I lose the “it” I mentioned above.
Yesterday, my best friend of over 20 years, Lisa, took me out for the first time since Scott passed away. It was a painting event during the day, and the proceeds went to the American Cancer Society. We even signed a petition while we were there. It was to get a law passed, making it more affordable for everyone to receive the pill form of chemo therapy.
I was nervous about going, but I, like my kids, have “safe” people who are tender in my situation. Lee* is one of these people.
When we were there, I met some of her coworkers. I shook their hands and said “hi”. I was working hard to hide my shattered heart. Mimicking my old ways, I wondered if the act was working or if my face betrayed me. No real way of knowing, I felt it was best to get lost in the art project at hand.
Painting pallets.
The highlight: We were able to beat the crap out of our pallets. They had hammers, mallets, and chains, and safety glasses. It was very official stuff, and I was into it.
So into it, that at one point I realized I was the last person, whaling on my pallet. To say it was a release would be an understatement.
I proceeded to paint my piece of wood, appreciating its knots, experimenting with different colors. Once we were finished with that, the art teacher told us to wait. It needed to dry.
We sat for a few minutes. Waited. We laughed at the spelling error on my stencil.
I waited some more. We all waited.
Then it came.
Your husband is dead.
It, just a thought, a whisper, a reminder from nowhere, washed over me like an ocean filled with the weight of 60 years of memories. Lost.
It struck me so concretely, I spoke aloud, “What the hell?!”
I rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and stood in the dark and sobbed.
What was happening? I don’t know. I really don’t. Here I was in the dark at 2 o’clock in the afternoon on a Sunday.
Then came something else – a different thought, whisper, reminder…
It’s going to be ok.
I cried more, refusing to accept this.
It’s going to be ok.
It persisted. I was silenced.
I turned the lights on, wiped my tears, and turned them back off. I stood in the dark, holding the handle of the door. You can do this.
I remembered to breath, then I opened the door.
As for my project, here it is:
Might As Well Live 