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Posts Tagged ‘surrender’

I am compelled to write today, for I must think out loud…
Hard work is a blessing that I miss very deeply. Has it been 7 years since I lost my job? It is as if it has disappeared, and now is only a faint image on the side of a discarded old milk carton. “Missing: Julie’s job. Last seen in Westlake Village, California. January 2010”.
I long for the old days of the gift of being cursed with the early morning demands and slowing down in my car balancing my coffee cup in one hand, putting on lip gloss with my other hand as the yellow light looks down upon me with a condescending glance as it dares to turn red just above my head, out of reach.
Today, I quietly carry the burden of longing to have the mental and physical strength to work once more.  I dare not say this out loud because what I desire immensely, really, is to hear about a friend’s day at work and I do not want my truth to leave them with odd feelings of discomfort. “What are you doing? Tell me everything”, I say, as if they were on vacation in a beautiful countryside villa. “What was on the agenda? What did you wear? Who did you see? Where did you have lunch? What did you talk about with the other tourists?” Oh, to be a part of that rat race once more.
Not too long ago, I foolishly pushed my body beyond it’s limitations day after day while I ran in this undesirable race that I miss so terribly this morning. I miss it so much that my heart aches. Somehow, I managed to work for 11 additional years with this horrific illness until my body and my mind gave out and my job was taken away from me. (Twice. Two jobs.)
Chronic Lyme Disease and the co-infections are a tricky foe. I try to hang on tight to this horrific unfortunate roller coaster ride. Free falling. Exhausting. Frightening… I did manage to actually give an attempt to socialize a couple days ago at my neighborhood annual street party, but now I must continue to pay the price for using all of my precious energy. I did not pace myself well enough. Perhaps I still need that yellow street signal just above my head to tell me, “Caution – slow down Jules!”…
Today I have made the decision to accept that I am unable to count traffic lights as they turn from yellow to red on my way to work, instead, I choose to count the blessings that I can see from my bedroom window. 3 beautiful quail, a couple humming birds, another bird being outsmarted as it chases a crazy old moth zig-zagging about, white puffy clouds – and the changing shadows on the ground from the morning sunshine… Soon I will step outside just so I can say I got outside today. I know the familiar fragrance of my own back yard will fill my spirit with gratitude.
Perhaps I will call my son just to thank him (once more) for everything he does for me. No fun for my boy to have had a sick mama for half of his life. I find him to be the most compassionate, caring, funny young man that I know. In fact, if he wasn’t my son, I’d want him to be my friend, you know, I mean, if I met him at work, or something. My son and I both have gotten good at counting our own special brand of blessings and knowing just how lucky we truly are…

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Once I thought that I’d live in California forever. But I didn’t.

Once I thought that my dad would live forever. But he was not able to.

I never ever thought that I’d live in Tucson, surrounded by my father’s memories.

But suddenly, I do.

I’ve never known the depth of this grace.

I’ve never known this level of humbling fatherly love.

My gratitude is bottomless. My blessings quiet me.

My love is deep. Therefore my grief is deep.

I am a lucky girl because I am my father’s daughter.

the little road to my refuge. I never thought it would be a place to begin to heal, but it is...

the little road to my refuge. I never thought it would be a place to begin to heal, but it is…

I am just going through the motions day after day, missing my father immensely.

But it is with these motions that I will persevere & find my way & a new life.

Because this is how my father taught me to live.

Keep on pushing until I reach the top of the mountain.

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…enjoying sweet memories of simpler times makes todays complications more do-able…

my brother & me in Michigan 1961

my brother & me in Michigan 1961

…I have no regrets, Dad, no regrets…

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My father has a strong spirit.  The cancer is in his throat and as a result he has no voice.

Autumn Colors and My Father

I stepped into his room at the ICU to visit him.

I washed my hands – they were cold.

As I walked towards him and quietly sat next to my 85-year-old father, he gently took my hand, felt it was extremely cold and gently tucked it under his top blanket on his hospital bed to warm it up.

He dozed for a moment…. He woke up…. He slowly reached up to give me a  gentle pat on my head.

Sometimes – not speaking can be a nice thing.  A blessing….

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I feel victorious when I find a Victory Garden

I feel victorious when I find a Victory Garden

I feel victorious when I see a piece of the ocean

I feel victorious when I see a piece of the ocean

I feel victorious when I am able to be still

I feel victorious when I am able to be still

When I have another day sober – I am victorious!

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1) I am grateful for taking 2 naps today.

2) I am grateful for the acupuncture I had today.

3) I am grateful that my definition of a true friend is even more clear in my soul today.

4) I am grateful for the people around me in my community.

5) I am grateful for caring neighbors in my condo complex.

6) I am grateful for every minute in every phone call from my son.

7) I am grateful  that I am learning how to manage living with Fibromyalgia.

8) I am grateful for many years of solid sobriety before I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.

9) I am grateful to be the grateful girl once more.

Wearing socks that match your cat is fun.

10) Wearing socks that match your cat is fun.

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dk cloud sunrise1) I’m grateful I started my day by taking a picture from my balcony while the sun was rising through dark rain clouds.

2) I’m grateful there were no leaks in my home during the heavy rain this week. (Some neighbors were not so lucky.)

3) I’m grateful for my dear friend when he calls to check in on me.  (and I’m grateful for the Starbucks Card he sent me!)

4) I am incredibly grateful for the phone conversation I had with my father today.

5) I am grateful for my long term sobriety during my journey and deep challenges with Fibromyalgia. (Does that makes me a “Fibromyalkie”?)

I am feeling much more grateful now, than before I started my grateful list.  Try it. It works.  What are you grateful for?  I’d love to know.

julie 🙂

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