A new year and a new volume. It's been four months since the last issue but no worries, I'm still flicted. In fact, I'm probably more flicted now than ever :) I'll have to do some research about this condition but I think it worsens with age. I'm two weeks away from my 31st birthday and I can only imagine the amount of flictedness I will acquire during the next year of my life!
This blog must begin with an apology. I have to apologize to all of you who have endured these blogs, online and in person! You know who you are out there. All of these blogs (online and in person) allude to my amusing challenges and somewhat silly struggles over the duration of my existence on this little planet. It's just the way I'm wired and although I have tried to keep all this craziness repressed, it just has to come out in some way. I have spewed so much of my life all over those who are closest and so if any of you are too sticky from the goo and sick of hearing it all, I understand if you must take your leave before you go nuts!
I don't have any cute story to tell this time around. Just some straight up, flat out, in your face life story. I figure it's time to just tell the whole story that I have been trying to tell in so many ways and then once it's told, then maybe I won't have to keep telling it over and over to myself and to others in order to believe that it really happened and this is my life, for real.
I hate change. I absolutely hate change. Unfortunately, for me, that's a stupid thing to hate because if there is one thing for certain, that is change. If there is one thing that life has taught me it is that change is the rule, not the exception. Everything and everyone changes, a lot, all the time. But, the fact remains, I hate change and I will usually do anything, irrational and crazy, in order to keep the status quo. Many of you have experienced my madness as I have approached a change and have watched me squirm and writhe in the agony of change. It's not pretty but it's real.
My story that I want to share with you and with the world is a story about change. A big change, my big change. The past two years of my life have been littered with changes in everything and this story is just about one of those changes, well, it's the story about the biggest change for me.
I've posted the family portraits from 2002 and then 2004 as a visual aid for those of you who haven't known me that long or who are visual learners :) I'm in both pictures, I promise. If you look closely, you will see that I have lost a substantial amount of weight since 2002. The facts are such - I used to be really overweight, really. Those of you who have never struggled with a weight problem or chronic body image insecurities, just quit reading now because you won't understand and it will probably just bore you.
For two decades, I lived with this kind of disease that pervaded my every thought, movement and very being. It was the first thing that I thought about when I woke up and it was the last thing I thought about before I went to bed every night. For twenty years, every prayer, every falling star, every birthday wish was a plea to the powers above to help me free myself of this horrible plague.
At last, in my mid-twenties, I found some solace with my condition by convincing myself that God wanted me to suffer in this way in order to gain humility and empathy for others. Plus, I also convinced myself that I was the fat person that everyone needed to know and love in order to learn those life lessons about loving and accepting others. Just like that I had it all figured out and that completely convoluted and utterly false understanding was good enough to allow me to build some nice, tall, really thick walls to keep everyone out and the real me in.
After a few years of cynicism, sarcasm and utter loneliness, something started to happen in my heart. I call it a spiritual smack in the face but the good Lord was trying His best to help me understand that the way I was thinking and living was wrong and that I needed to change. It started with my dad sitting me down one day and saying, "Tracy, you know I love you no matter what but I'm concerned about your health and here's something that I have been thinking about." He then shared with me a pamphlet about gastric bypass surgery. For eight months I thought and considered and thought and considered about everything and in the end I decided that I would rather die and take my chances in the next life than live in this life one more day like I was.
A deep breath, a big sigh and my signature on the dotted line catapulted me into a realm of changes and challenges that I had never considered possible. On January 31, 2003, I underwent a five hour surgery to reduce the size of my stomach to two ounces. Again, for the visual learners, put your two thumbs together side by side . . . that's about two ounces. After five excruciating days in the hospital where I about met my Maker again, I was released and went home to recuperate. Although I was relieved to be at home, I was still very sick and very weak. Ten days after my surgery, I developed a leak in my new little stomach. Since the leak would have to heal on its own, I couldn't eat or drink anything by mouth for seventeen days. My nourishment for those three and a half weeks consisted of a syringe, a tube in my side and a can of Ensure every three to six hours. It was not pretty.
Eventually, the leak healed, and my recovery continued. After two months, I was able to start exercising again. I joined Curves for Women and started with the basics. By the summer, I had lost sixty pounds and took a trip to the Bahamas with one of my dearest friends. My body was slowly healing and getting used to the changes that were occurring. Around April, I noticed that my skin was finally regaining its color. A new sense of freedom began to wash over me as the weight melted away and my body continued to change.
In September, my new found freedom found me playing some touch football with some friends and just like that, I had re-injured my right knee. Within two weeks, I had had another surgery on my knee to repair the damage and was confined to an immobilizer and crutches. I battled with my physical therapist over and over because I was always certain that I was not going to be able to do what he pushed me to do. But somehow, he knew better than me and I started to recover and regain strength in my knee. In a few months I was back to exercising and gaining more and more freedom.
It's very interesting what freedom will do for a person. The confidence that I was gaining helped push me to reach out beyond my comfort zone in my job and in my relationships with others. I no longer felt the need to hide so much behind my walls. I decided to change jobs and move away from home, my comfort zone and place of security. It seemed as if every time I turned around there was some new change to embrace either in myself or in someone else. I was constantly being asked to accept the newness of myself and others.
Most of my life, I had been so worried about the costs of all the changes and what there was to lose. A year after the gastric bypass surgery, I found myself in a new place, in a new job, with a new and expanded circle of loved ones and friends. The only thing I had lost in all the change was over a hundred pounds and a lot of pain that was self inflicted and unnecessary.
It would be impossible for me to share all the joys and sorrows the ups and downs. I finally bought my first pair of Gap jeans. I went to Carrowinds and was able to ride all the rides. I ran my first 5K. I finally allowed myself to really love someone.
Well, another year has passed since then and I find myself at another crossroad of change. I opted to have another surgery at the end of January to "lighten the load" a little more. Even though my body is grateful for the weight that I was able to lose, my skin was not as forgiving. So in late January, I had a full abdomnioplasty to remove the extra skin on my tummy and torso. It was nothing like the first surgery. I had no idea how it would affect me, body and spirit, and I am still recovering. (One of the main reasons I haven't written in so long :)
I quit the job with the state that I hated so much and now I work at Curves for Women part-time while I am finishing graduate school and figuring out what to do with the rest of my life.
As I sit here at 3:14 AM, I feel like I could never capture or appreciate all the joys and sorrows over the past two years that have shaped me literally and figuratively but I so desperately want to try because I know that out of these past two years will spring the source of so much personal growth and understanding. There just aren't enough words to express my joys or my sorrows in their entirety. I suppose that's how it's meant to be. Some things can only be felt and known to the individual.
As I reflect, oh and boy have I ever reflected, I am trying to come to some conclusions and lessons that I can begin to take away from this season of complete and utter miracles in my life.
Here's what I have come up with so far:
1 - God lives and He loves us all, even me.
2 - He is a God of miracles and miracles can happen in the lives of all of us, even me.
3 - God answers prayers, even though it may take two decades of asking and pleading for the answer. When the time is right, He will always deliver us, even me.
4 - We are all worthy of love and respect, even me.
5 - Sorrow is necessary in order to appreciate joy.
6 - Happiness isn't found it's created. It's not a place; it's a state of mind. We don't arrive there, we are there, and we just have to choose to see it.
7 - Loosing 160 pounds will not make people love you any more or less, including yourself.
8 - You have to be able to accept the love of yourself and others before you can open your eyes and heart to true joy. Offering forgiveness and accepting forgiveness from others and yourself for your shortcomings is a key to unlocking true joy and freedom.
9 - If you want to succeed you have to be willing to give up all excuses for failing, eliminate all the crutches in your life, and rely on those who love you for support and encouragement.
10 - It's OK that I'm not perfect. There's only ever been one perfect person and He's the reason why I'm still here and can live and love and learn. The greatest freedom I will ever know comes by knowing and loving Him.
So, my dearest friends and loved ones, I hope that you will continue with me into this next volume of the Flicted Friend. I am forever grateful for each of you in so many special ways. As we all continue through this life where change is not the exception, its the rule, I hope I can offer you all my love and support through all the changes in your life as you have done for me over the past few years. Just remember, you aren't alone, you have a flicted friend who loves you!
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Silent night, holy night
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I have spent some time remembering how much I love Christmas Eve.
In my own experience, my favorite family traditions occurred on Christmas Eve. We always had a good meal; some years prepared solely by us kids. I particularly remember the year that I made lasagna and my youngest brother John made three lemon meringue pies. We always watched the Santa Alert and were completely convinced by the news anchor that Santa was indeed, making his way over the mid-west and would be in our neighborhood soon.
For many years, we acted out the Christmas story to the amusement of the myriad of guests we invited into our home. It seemed that Marty was always Mary and I was the angel bringing good tidings of great joy. John was Baby Jesus a few times and Gil always looked good as a shepherd or as Joseph. In the recent past, we have spent Christmas Eve decorating the tree and laughing at all the crazy ornaments we have all collected over the years. That is one thing we are never lacking in our family, something to talk and laugh about.
But my favorite Christmas Eve tradition that we carried on for years and years was that all of us kids piled into the same bed and stayed up all night talking and laughing. When we were younger, we all fit pretty well into a bed but as we got bigger, we would run mom and dad out of their room and pile into their king size bed for the night. Later, we had to be satisfied that we could all fit in the same room, some in beds, others on the floor. But no matter what, we were all together and it was fun.
To me, it was as if the magic Christmas lights cast some sort of spell on us. Usually, if the four of us were in close quarters, like a car or the dinner table or the pugh at church, there would be some sort of scuffle :) Brothers and sisters are like that, always picking and playing, I'm sure at the exhaustion of my parents! But not on Christmas Eve, I can't remember one fight or skirmish on those evenings. And whether my memory is completely accurate or not, those moments of togetherness are dear and sacred to me.
Of course, time passes and lives change. There had to be that first year when we weren't all together for our Christmas Eve slumber party. I was serving as a full time missionary and was in Colorado. I was happy to be a missionary but missed the fun and the togetherness. Since then, there have been less Christmas Eve slumber parties. We've added new siblings to our family, a brother-in-law and a sister-in-law, and now there are two new little Shaw grandbabies crawling around, adding their own light to the magic of Christmas Eve.
This year, Christmas Eve will be quiet. Instead of being Mary in our play this year, Marty will be at her in-laws, cuddling her own beautiful daughter and pondering those things in her heart. And our little brother John, who played the Baby Jesus not so long ago, is serving our country in Iraq. Yes, Christmas Eve will be different. Holidays tend to highlight the changes in life and be painful for us. I'm sure my mom is a little sad that all of us won't be piled in a bed in the next room this Christmas Eve and I know my sister-in-law is sad that John won't be here to play Santa for Riley's first Christmas.
Yes, it will be different but the Reason we celebrate on Christmas Eve will be the same. That's what brings the joy and light to this season of the year. And even though the years will pass and things will change, the light and love the we can receive from that Holy Infant born so long ago will never fade or change. I am so thankful to know that Christ was born and lived and still lives to lift and love us all.
I hope that each day of each year that passes for us all can be filled with a bit of the true Christmas Spirit - the Spirit of perfect love and sacrifice. That way, no matter what changes occur, our hearts can be filled with the peace and happiness knowing that with our hearts filled with His love, we can spend our days and nights knowing that all is calm and all is bright.
In my own experience, my favorite family traditions occurred on Christmas Eve. We always had a good meal; some years prepared solely by us kids. I particularly remember the year that I made lasagna and my youngest brother John made three lemon meringue pies. We always watched the Santa Alert and were completely convinced by the news anchor that Santa was indeed, making his way over the mid-west and would be in our neighborhood soon.
For many years, we acted out the Christmas story to the amusement of the myriad of guests we invited into our home. It seemed that Marty was always Mary and I was the angel bringing good tidings of great joy. John was Baby Jesus a few times and Gil always looked good as a shepherd or as Joseph. In the recent past, we have spent Christmas Eve decorating the tree and laughing at all the crazy ornaments we have all collected over the years. That is one thing we are never lacking in our family, something to talk and laugh about.
But my favorite Christmas Eve tradition that we carried on for years and years was that all of us kids piled into the same bed and stayed up all night talking and laughing. When we were younger, we all fit pretty well into a bed but as we got bigger, we would run mom and dad out of their room and pile into their king size bed for the night. Later, we had to be satisfied that we could all fit in the same room, some in beds, others on the floor. But no matter what, we were all together and it was fun.
To me, it was as if the magic Christmas lights cast some sort of spell on us. Usually, if the four of us were in close quarters, like a car or the dinner table or the pugh at church, there would be some sort of scuffle :) Brothers and sisters are like that, always picking and playing, I'm sure at the exhaustion of my parents! But not on Christmas Eve, I can't remember one fight or skirmish on those evenings. And whether my memory is completely accurate or not, those moments of togetherness are dear and sacred to me.
Of course, time passes and lives change. There had to be that first year when we weren't all together for our Christmas Eve slumber party. I was serving as a full time missionary and was in Colorado. I was happy to be a missionary but missed the fun and the togetherness. Since then, there have been less Christmas Eve slumber parties. We've added new siblings to our family, a brother-in-law and a sister-in-law, and now there are two new little Shaw grandbabies crawling around, adding their own light to the magic of Christmas Eve.
This year, Christmas Eve will be quiet. Instead of being Mary in our play this year, Marty will be at her in-laws, cuddling her own beautiful daughter and pondering those things in her heart. And our little brother John, who played the Baby Jesus not so long ago, is serving our country in Iraq. Yes, Christmas Eve will be different. Holidays tend to highlight the changes in life and be painful for us. I'm sure my mom is a little sad that all of us won't be piled in a bed in the next room this Christmas Eve and I know my sister-in-law is sad that John won't be here to play Santa for Riley's first Christmas.
Yes, it will be different but the Reason we celebrate on Christmas Eve will be the same. That's what brings the joy and light to this season of the year. And even though the years will pass and things will change, the light and love the we can receive from that Holy Infant born so long ago will never fade or change. I am so thankful to know that Christ was born and lived and still lives to lift and love us all.
I hope that each day of each year that passes for us all can be filled with a bit of the true Christmas Spirit - the Spirit of perfect love and sacrifice. That way, no matter what changes occur, our hearts can be filled with the peace and happiness knowing that with our hearts filled with His love, we can spend our days and nights knowing that all is calm and all is bright.
Thursday, December 9, 2004
"I just saw you naked!"
I have definitely concluded that until I have a somewhat less chaotic life, I will have to reduce my publication of the Flicted Friend to once or twice a month! I apologize for yet another delinquent issue. However, I hope this one is well worth the wait :)
You never know who's watching you. That is a lesson that I am learning over and over again. No matter what it is that people see you do, the fact remains that there is always someone watching. I don't know what it is that gives me that false sense of total privacy but in the end, it is just a dream, because Someone is always watching.
This past weekend was one of those emotional roller coasters. After a very long week at work, I had a major confrontation with my boss on Friday. I stood my ground on some very important issues and it took every ounce of emotional energy I had to be firm and assertive and not let myself be bowled over. I was able to hold it together long enough to make it to the car and then proceeded to cry as I drove the entire 24.6 miles of I-40 between work and my apartment. It was one of those good cries, too. You know what I mean, when you can't catch your breath and about every five minutes a fresh rip tide of emotion pulls you under and if you fight it, it only makes it worse :)
I made it home without incident, and sat in my car trying to catch my breath. I pulled myself together and rushed up to pack a bag and head off to a very anticipated slumber party with a group of great girl friends. However, the emotional exhaustion made me a real party pooper and I don't think I added much to the evening as I continued to ponder and pout about my poor self and situation. Plus, my emotions were so raw, I found myself laughing too loudly and even snorting once or twice at dinner as the conversations turned silly, which only added to my complete embarassment and exhaustion! The highlight of the night came as I received a Backstreet Boys video as a white elephant gift. Around 1:30 AM, we all fell asleep, piled on the floor in our sleeping bags. I was so tired that when I woke up the next morning, I realized that I hadn't moved positions all night and had an impression of the zipper of my sleeping bag across my face.
In the morning, I showered quickly and rushed off to the next event, a photo shoot with my sisters and nieces. For the next hour, I made crazy noises and faces at my one-year-old nieces in hopes of evoking a smile or laugh. It was so much fun and I look forward to when they are sixteen and can remind them how they were when they were one. We all had lunch together and then I went to the movies with my dad and sister-in-law, something I hadn't done in a long time and had forgotten how much I enjoyed.
At 4:00 PM, I was in my car, on my way back to Chapel Hill. I would have just enough time to change my clothes and meet some friends to ride to our church Christmas party. Between the puffy eyes from the extensive blubbering the day before and the lack of sleep, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open as I drove. But I made it back and wheeled my car into a space in front of our apartment building. I made it upstairs and into my room where I promptly took off the shirt I was wearing and stood in front of my closet, completely overwhelmed with what to wear. After about a minute of staring at my less than thrilling options, I picked something comfortable threw it over my head. I was still standing in front of my closet when my roommate and her friend came in the door.
As they made their way into the apartment, my roommate said loudly, "Tracy, I just saw you naked!"
Pause.
What do you say to someone who says, "I just saw you naked!"
I said with a sarcastic laugh, "Oh, that's so great!" I mean, really, what else is there to say! It wasn't so bad, I was partially clothed so the naked part was a bit of an exaggeration, but still, it certainly wasn't my favorite thing to hear.
Evidently, the blinds covering the window were turned the wrong way and although they partially blocked the view, there was still much to be seen. Like I said, someone is always watching and complete privacy is a dream. As I reflected, I realized that my blinds have been down but turned up ever since I moved into the apartment in May. Who knows who else has been looking at the opportune, or should I say inopportune, moment? I guess I'll never know and really, I don't want to know!
So, what have I learned? Well, I have certainly learned that there is always someone watching and that total privacy is myth. But, when I think about it, that's ok. I'm glad Someone was watching on Friday as I cried all the way home from work because Someone made sure that I was surrounded by good friends to lift my spirits and make me laugh. I was glad that Someone was watching while I spent time with my family because Someone made sure that I felt the special love that we share as we laughed and talked and acted silly. I know Someone was watching as I drove home, tired and exhausted because Someone made sure that I got home safely. And I'm glad that Someone was watching as I changed my shirt because Someone made sure that my roommate was the one who saw me and told me that I needed to adjust my blinds to prevent any other embarrassing moments :) Yes, Someone is always watching and when it comes down to it, I'm so glad.
You never know who's watching you. That is a lesson that I am learning over and over again. No matter what it is that people see you do, the fact remains that there is always someone watching. I don't know what it is that gives me that false sense of total privacy but in the end, it is just a dream, because Someone is always watching.
This past weekend was one of those emotional roller coasters. After a very long week at work, I had a major confrontation with my boss on Friday. I stood my ground on some very important issues and it took every ounce of emotional energy I had to be firm and assertive and not let myself be bowled over. I was able to hold it together long enough to make it to the car and then proceeded to cry as I drove the entire 24.6 miles of I-40 between work and my apartment. It was one of those good cries, too. You know what I mean, when you can't catch your breath and about every five minutes a fresh rip tide of emotion pulls you under and if you fight it, it only makes it worse :)
I made it home without incident, and sat in my car trying to catch my breath. I pulled myself together and rushed up to pack a bag and head off to a very anticipated slumber party with a group of great girl friends. However, the emotional exhaustion made me a real party pooper and I don't think I added much to the evening as I continued to ponder and pout about my poor self and situation. Plus, my emotions were so raw, I found myself laughing too loudly and even snorting once or twice at dinner as the conversations turned silly, which only added to my complete embarassment and exhaustion! The highlight of the night came as I received a Backstreet Boys video as a white elephant gift. Around 1:30 AM, we all fell asleep, piled on the floor in our sleeping bags. I was so tired that when I woke up the next morning, I realized that I hadn't moved positions all night and had an impression of the zipper of my sleeping bag across my face.
In the morning, I showered quickly and rushed off to the next event, a photo shoot with my sisters and nieces. For the next hour, I made crazy noises and faces at my one-year-old nieces in hopes of evoking a smile or laugh. It was so much fun and I look forward to when they are sixteen and can remind them how they were when they were one. We all had lunch together and then I went to the movies with my dad and sister-in-law, something I hadn't done in a long time and had forgotten how much I enjoyed.
At 4:00 PM, I was in my car, on my way back to Chapel Hill. I would have just enough time to change my clothes and meet some friends to ride to our church Christmas party. Between the puffy eyes from the extensive blubbering the day before and the lack of sleep, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open as I drove. But I made it back and wheeled my car into a space in front of our apartment building. I made it upstairs and into my room where I promptly took off the shirt I was wearing and stood in front of my closet, completely overwhelmed with what to wear. After about a minute of staring at my less than thrilling options, I picked something comfortable threw it over my head. I was still standing in front of my closet when my roommate and her friend came in the door.
As they made their way into the apartment, my roommate said loudly, "Tracy, I just saw you naked!"
Pause.
What do you say to someone who says, "I just saw you naked!"
I said with a sarcastic laugh, "Oh, that's so great!" I mean, really, what else is there to say! It wasn't so bad, I was partially clothed so the naked part was a bit of an exaggeration, but still, it certainly wasn't my favorite thing to hear.
Evidently, the blinds covering the window were turned the wrong way and although they partially blocked the view, there was still much to be seen. Like I said, someone is always watching and complete privacy is a dream. As I reflected, I realized that my blinds have been down but turned up ever since I moved into the apartment in May. Who knows who else has been looking at the opportune, or should I say inopportune, moment? I guess I'll never know and really, I don't want to know!
So, what have I learned? Well, I have certainly learned that there is always someone watching and that total privacy is myth. But, when I think about it, that's ok. I'm glad Someone was watching on Friday as I cried all the way home from work because Someone made sure that I was surrounded by good friends to lift my spirits and make me laugh. I was glad that Someone was watching while I spent time with my family because Someone made sure that I felt the special love that we share as we laughed and talked and acted silly. I know Someone was watching as I drove home, tired and exhausted because Someone made sure that I got home safely. And I'm glad that Someone was watching as I changed my shirt because Someone made sure that my roommate was the one who saw me and told me that I needed to adjust my blinds to prevent any other embarrassing moments :) Yes, Someone is always watching and when it comes down to it, I'm so glad.
Monday, November 15, 2004
The Electric Slide and the panty hose
Movies have ruined me. You know what I mean. The perfect moment, the perfect exchange of words, the perfect music playing in the background, the perfect resolution to the drama and the perfect ending. I live in reality, yet I am convinced that my life should play out like a movie and when it doesn't, I am left to wonder what happened! I have even gone as far as to pick what music would be playing in the background of some of the more dramatic scenes in my life. I don't know if my life as a movie would be a blockbuster hit, but it would certainly be hysterical! Yep, movies have ruined me.
I am sure that all of you have had those perfect moments in time when, like the movies, all things conspire for your good and everything goes exactly like you planned. Those are what I call "movie moments." In my world, I must admit that I have been blessed with many movie moments. However, I have found that in the time surrounding these moments is when my flictedness is most apparent and I am reminded, yet again, that my life is not like the movies, nor should it be :)
Before I continue, I must mention the fact that I have been blessed with the greatest friends and family in the entire world. They all love and care for me in so many ways and this fact becomes more evident to me everyday I am still here to live and breathe and love and learn. My love for these dear souls will be an emerging theme as you follow the life of the Flicted Friend.
So, let me illustrate by sharing two experiences, one happened just this weekend and the other, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . .
On Friday night, I had a lengthy conversation with a dear friend. My heart was full and somewhat heavy and this friend listened and shared with love and concern. It was very meaningful to me. In the end, my heart was lifted and I felt renewed. It was a movie moment.
After the conversation, I hopped out of the car and walked to the stairs leading up to my apartment door. I started up the stairs, head held a little higher and a slight spring in my step. However, my shoes were a little loose and my newfound stride was a bit too quick. I tripped on one of the last stairs and stumbled up to the landing. No damaged ankles or wrists but I was left to laugh out loud at my anti-climatic, less that triumphant resolution to the evening.
Upon entering my apartment, I was left to consider other such scenes in my past. That bobble reminded me of another moment in my not-so-movie-like life.
Take your minds back to May 1988. I was finishing my eighth grade year at Biscoe Middle School. Like most schools, we had our share of somewhat silly traditions. The eighth grade prom was one: the country club, the dance, the dress, the date, the pictures, the parents, and so on. At that moment in time, it was an important event in my life and so it had the potential to become one of those movie moments.
I had found the perfect dress: knee-length, powder blue with white polka dots and a poofy skirt supported by many yards of crinoline. I had chosen to accessorize this magnificent dress with a pink cumber bun and a pair of two-inch, pink heels. (It was the late eighties so I wouldn't have looked like a clown for another decade :)
The night came and my parents dropped me off at the country club. The foreshadowing couldn't have been more obvious as I wobbled in those two-inch heels up the stairs and into the gala event. After about ten minutes in those shoes, I had had my fill of life in a pair of heels. They were neatly tucked with my other things under a chair in the corner. I was left, scurrying around to all my friends in my stocking feet. The dance played out like most middle school dances, a beautiful blend of awkwardness and silliness sprinkled with bursts of fun and laughter. Most of the details are fuzzy except for the Electric Slide.
The music came on and for one brief moment, everyone was dancing. I think about it now and I am laughing so hard, I am crying. Imagine a room full of fourteen-year-olds doing the Electric Slide in a myriad of bad eighties clothes while teachers and parents watched with awe. Well, you can all imagine where I was: in the front, leading the group, laughing and singing loudly. It was a lot of fun, a movie moment.
However, as I have been reminded over and over again, my life is not like the movies. In the middle of the song, on one of the turns or steps or shuffles, the hard wood floors and the stocking feet conspired against me and I found myself, in a heap, on the floor, poofy skirt, pink cumber bun and all.
I suppose it could have been a tragedy and I could have left crying and humiliated but what good would that have done? I got up, and finished the song and learned an important lesson about two-inch heels, stocking feet and hard wood floors. It was even rumored that one of the parents had gotten the whole thing on tape, which I still have never seen, but perhaps someday it will surface :)
In all honesty, I am grateful for these not-so-movie-like experiences. In a way, they have been the building blocks to my character. So what if I fell down at the eighth grade prom or the million and one other bobbles I have made in my days on the planet? It's not like I'm not going to quit falling. It's hysterical and is just reminder that I shouldn't take myself too seriously. Plus, every time I fall, I have a choice. I can either get up, laugh and keep dancing or quit and go home. Most times, I keep laughing and dancing. I think if my life were a movie, people would much rather see someone get up and keep going rather than quit. And, I suppose if that is the case, maybe some of my not-so-move-like-flicted-moments are actually real movie moments after all!
I am sure that all of you have had those perfect moments in time when, like the movies, all things conspire for your good and everything goes exactly like you planned. Those are what I call "movie moments." In my world, I must admit that I have been blessed with many movie moments. However, I have found that in the time surrounding these moments is when my flictedness is most apparent and I am reminded, yet again, that my life is not like the movies, nor should it be :)
Before I continue, I must mention the fact that I have been blessed with the greatest friends and family in the entire world. They all love and care for me in so many ways and this fact becomes more evident to me everyday I am still here to live and breathe and love and learn. My love for these dear souls will be an emerging theme as you follow the life of the Flicted Friend.
So, let me illustrate by sharing two experiences, one happened just this weekend and the other, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . .
On Friday night, I had a lengthy conversation with a dear friend. My heart was full and somewhat heavy and this friend listened and shared with love and concern. It was very meaningful to me. In the end, my heart was lifted and I felt renewed. It was a movie moment.
After the conversation, I hopped out of the car and walked to the stairs leading up to my apartment door. I started up the stairs, head held a little higher and a slight spring in my step. However, my shoes were a little loose and my newfound stride was a bit too quick. I tripped on one of the last stairs and stumbled up to the landing. No damaged ankles or wrists but I was left to laugh out loud at my anti-climatic, less that triumphant resolution to the evening.
Upon entering my apartment, I was left to consider other such scenes in my past. That bobble reminded me of another moment in my not-so-movie-like life.
Take your minds back to May 1988. I was finishing my eighth grade year at Biscoe Middle School. Like most schools, we had our share of somewhat silly traditions. The eighth grade prom was one: the country club, the dance, the dress, the date, the pictures, the parents, and so on. At that moment in time, it was an important event in my life and so it had the potential to become one of those movie moments.
I had found the perfect dress: knee-length, powder blue with white polka dots and a poofy skirt supported by many yards of crinoline. I had chosen to accessorize this magnificent dress with a pink cumber bun and a pair of two-inch, pink heels. (It was the late eighties so I wouldn't have looked like a clown for another decade :)
The night came and my parents dropped me off at the country club. The foreshadowing couldn't have been more obvious as I wobbled in those two-inch heels up the stairs and into the gala event. After about ten minutes in those shoes, I had had my fill of life in a pair of heels. They were neatly tucked with my other things under a chair in the corner. I was left, scurrying around to all my friends in my stocking feet. The dance played out like most middle school dances, a beautiful blend of awkwardness and silliness sprinkled with bursts of fun and laughter. Most of the details are fuzzy except for the Electric Slide.
The music came on and for one brief moment, everyone was dancing. I think about it now and I am laughing so hard, I am crying. Imagine a room full of fourteen-year-olds doing the Electric Slide in a myriad of bad eighties clothes while teachers and parents watched with awe. Well, you can all imagine where I was: in the front, leading the group, laughing and singing loudly. It was a lot of fun, a movie moment.
However, as I have been reminded over and over again, my life is not like the movies. In the middle of the song, on one of the turns or steps or shuffles, the hard wood floors and the stocking feet conspired against me and I found myself, in a heap, on the floor, poofy skirt, pink cumber bun and all.
I suppose it could have been a tragedy and I could have left crying and humiliated but what good would that have done? I got up, and finished the song and learned an important lesson about two-inch heels, stocking feet and hard wood floors. It was even rumored that one of the parents had gotten the whole thing on tape, which I still have never seen, but perhaps someday it will surface :)
In all honesty, I am grateful for these not-so-movie-like experiences. In a way, they have been the building blocks to my character. So what if I fell down at the eighth grade prom or the million and one other bobbles I have made in my days on the planet? It's not like I'm not going to quit falling. It's hysterical and is just reminder that I shouldn't take myself too seriously. Plus, every time I fall, I have a choice. I can either get up, laugh and keep dancing or quit and go home. Most times, I keep laughing and dancing. I think if my life were a movie, people would much rather see someone get up and keep going rather than quit. And, I suppose if that is the case, maybe some of my not-so-move-like-flicted-moments are actually real movie moments after all!
Friday, November 12, 2004
The magic of a field trip
I apologize for another delinquent issue. I am glad I don't work for a newspaper. I have been having a hard time finding the minutes that it takes to write something worth reading, which is still debatable!
This week, I reflected on the wonder and amazement of what a good field trip can do for the amount of joy felt in one's life. On Wednesday, I had to pick up some paper work from the Department of Adminstration office building. Since it was such a beautiful day, I decided to walk. I had a lot on my mind so I walked slowly, having a dialogue with myself, of course. When I talk to myself, I try to do it all in my head so no one will realize that I'm having a conversation with myself :)
On the way back, I walked even slower, not wanting to return to work on such a beautiful day. My pace was barely a stroll and as I looked around, I noticed all the school buses in the parking lots. I remembered all the cool stuff to see in downtown Raleigh: the musuems, the North Carolina history sites, the government officials and buildings. It is quite a city.
I remembered how fun our class trip to Raleigh in the 8th grade had been. Mr. Smith, our Social Studies teacher, had wanted us to appreciate it so much more than we could at age 13. I chuckled at myself because I remembered being a ball of teenage emotion and worrying about who I would sit next to on the bus trip. I remembered that the boy I loved sat next to another girl on the bus which made me jealous. Then my best friend sat with me and we talked about the usual worries of 13 year-olds (boys, friends, high school, etc.). I felt accepted and loved.
According to the pictures I have of that day, the boy I loved walked around with me for part of the day because part of him is in every picture I took. I also have a picture of us sitting together at McDonald's when we stopped on the way home, proof that the trip wasn't a total loss!
I kept walking and decided to sit down in my favorite park. A school group was using the park and picnic tables to eat their lunches and so I watched for awhile. It looked like a young middle school group, probably sixth graders, on the cusp of puberty: insecure yet still able to give in to fun of a game of tag. It was fun to watch and remember.
I noticed one boy who was walking on the edge of the mayhem. He was chubby and walked slowly. I could tell he wanted to be a part but was afraid. My heart went out to him, I knew how he felt. I watched as he kept walking around. He made his way over to three girls playing in the leaves under a huge tree.
These girls were picking up arm fulls of leaves and throwing them into the air and laughing as the leaves rained down on them. Over and over, picking up leaves, tossing them into the air, and laughing. It looked like the best time and I wanted to join them myself!
This little boy slowly approached them and in my heart, I was afraid for him. I knew he wanted to play and they were having so much fun. I watched as he walked up and I said a little prayer in my heart that these little girls would include him and let him play. There was a moment of pause in the tossing of leaves, a few words were exchanged, and then the tossing continued with four kids tossing and laughing.
It was a little miracle to watch. I was happy for that little boy and I was proud of those little girls. I am glad that when they are 30 years old and they have a moment of nostalgia about their class trip to Raleigh, they will remember fun with friends and feeling accepted by others.
Field trips can definitely be a source of much joy in life. Going away to have fun with people you know and love. I suppose this life itself could be considered one field trip afer another, always changing, always going somewhere new, with those I know and love and always making precious memories. Those memories are what warms me when the chill of despair or sadness settles on my heart. I can't help but be warmed when I think about all the good memories of people and places that I have known and loved. What a great trip this has been!
This week, I reflected on the wonder and amazement of what a good field trip can do for the amount of joy felt in one's life. On Wednesday, I had to pick up some paper work from the Department of Adminstration office building. Since it was such a beautiful day, I decided to walk. I had a lot on my mind so I walked slowly, having a dialogue with myself, of course. When I talk to myself, I try to do it all in my head so no one will realize that I'm having a conversation with myself :)
On the way back, I walked even slower, not wanting to return to work on such a beautiful day. My pace was barely a stroll and as I looked around, I noticed all the school buses in the parking lots. I remembered all the cool stuff to see in downtown Raleigh: the musuems, the North Carolina history sites, the government officials and buildings. It is quite a city.
I remembered how fun our class trip to Raleigh in the 8th grade had been. Mr. Smith, our Social Studies teacher, had wanted us to appreciate it so much more than we could at age 13. I chuckled at myself because I remembered being a ball of teenage emotion and worrying about who I would sit next to on the bus trip. I remembered that the boy I loved sat next to another girl on the bus which made me jealous. Then my best friend sat with me and we talked about the usual worries of 13 year-olds (boys, friends, high school, etc.). I felt accepted and loved.
According to the pictures I have of that day, the boy I loved walked around with me for part of the day because part of him is in every picture I took. I also have a picture of us sitting together at McDonald's when we stopped on the way home, proof that the trip wasn't a total loss!
I kept walking and decided to sit down in my favorite park. A school group was using the park and picnic tables to eat their lunches and so I watched for awhile. It looked like a young middle school group, probably sixth graders, on the cusp of puberty: insecure yet still able to give in to fun of a game of tag. It was fun to watch and remember.
I noticed one boy who was walking on the edge of the mayhem. He was chubby and walked slowly. I could tell he wanted to be a part but was afraid. My heart went out to him, I knew how he felt. I watched as he kept walking around. He made his way over to three girls playing in the leaves under a huge tree.
These girls were picking up arm fulls of leaves and throwing them into the air and laughing as the leaves rained down on them. Over and over, picking up leaves, tossing them into the air, and laughing. It looked like the best time and I wanted to join them myself!
This little boy slowly approached them and in my heart, I was afraid for him. I knew he wanted to play and they were having so much fun. I watched as he walked up and I said a little prayer in my heart that these little girls would include him and let him play. There was a moment of pause in the tossing of leaves, a few words were exchanged, and then the tossing continued with four kids tossing and laughing.
It was a little miracle to watch. I was happy for that little boy and I was proud of those little girls. I am glad that when they are 30 years old and they have a moment of nostalgia about their class trip to Raleigh, they will remember fun with friends and feeling accepted by others.
Field trips can definitely be a source of much joy in life. Going away to have fun with people you know and love. I suppose this life itself could be considered one field trip afer another, always changing, always going somewhere new, with those I know and love and always making precious memories. Those memories are what warms me when the chill of despair or sadness settles on my heart. I can't help but be warmed when I think about all the good memories of people and places that I have known and loved. What a great trip this has been!
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