I think a lot of our problems as individuals stems from thinking the grass is always greener on the other side
we look at all the negatives in our personal situations and don't acknowledge the positives
We imagine a different situation
one where there are no negatives
but there are always negatives
I know two people who are divorced
they have been divorced as long as they were married
over twenty years
one person in the relationship was a cheater
a cheater because he could never focus on the positives he had
a woman who worked as a member of a team
who held him up when he was down
who took on the lions share of the caring for the children
so he could focus on career
but also had a career of her own
She wasn't perfect
there were obvious problems
but
he ONLY saw the problems and searched for something different
over twenty years
one other failed marriage
and several engagements later
he still says
if he had known then what he knows now
he'd still be with her
The grass is always greener
until it isn't
This week I started a new job
and part of the training, as is fairly standard with a large corporation
is their philosophy
how they treat clients and how they treat employees
a big part of the philosophy
is engagement
being engaged
having engaged clients
making the situation better for everyone involved
it struck me that most of us aren't engaged in our situations
instead of walking into work thankful for what we have
we walk in angry that we have to work
but if we didn't have a job, we'd be envious of the ability to earn money and pay bills
we drive a crappy car and look over at the person with the new car and grumble about our POS
the person next to us is looking at our POS wishing they didn't have that big car payment every month
we look at the person we love and resent this and resent that
we look at the younger, prettier, fitter, wealthier...whatever person and imagine our life
but we have no idea
Perhaps that girl or guy is selfish, angry, has an STD or wouldn't think twice about us
but instead of being grateful for what we do have we resent what we don't
I'm making a real effort to appreciate that which is good
to not take a single thing for granted
to not assume the grass is always greener
I've seen a quote on facebook several times
I'm not quoting verbatim...
Imagine that you have tomorrow only that which you are thankful for today
I'm trying to do that
I remember the first time Baby G had an emotional meltdown after my heart surgery
he has always had huge emotional meltdowns, full of passion
and as a Mom it can be more than tiring and frustrating
but as a Mom who nearly lost the ability to be there when he had those meltdowns
hearing him scream and cry
felt like a gift
I'm trying to appreciate
and when I do the bad doesn't always seem so bad
and the good seems better
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Open Letter To The Parking Garage Attendant
Dear Parking Garage Attendant:
As a part of the month of Valentines Day, I wanted to write you a letter. You don't know my name. You always greet me as "Babes." I suspect that you treat everyone with the same real, from the heart kindness, which is why your line is always long. Everyone wants to have a chance to bid you farewell on our way home from work. Your kindness has an absolute magical impact on the people that pass through your line to leave the parking structure.
You may not remember this, or maybe you do...but one of the first times I met you I was crying, hysterically. While I was at work that day, I received a call that my Grandmother was in code red. Code red meant she was dying, or more likely had already died. I ran up and down 7 floors looking for my car, which I had lost in my emotional state. I was sweating and crying and I felt like there was snot everywhere.
I pulled through your line and handed you my ticket. You saw the state I was in and handed me your box of tissue. You began talking to me as if I was a small child, in a very comforting voice. "Oh baby, what's wrong?" I started apologizing, it was all I could think to do. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. My Grandmother just died and..."
You turned to the young man sweeping cigarette butts beside your booth. He was high school or college aged and his pants were sagging so low I thought he was going to trip himself. "Bow your head and pray with us. Her Grandmother just died." He immediately lowered his dust pan and his head, not for me, but because you told him to.
And then you proceeded to pray for my Grandmother and her passage to Heaven. You prayed for me and my family and that we have some comfort during this time of sadness. You watched the line of cars grow longer behind me and you took your time. I felt such peace. By the time we all said Amen, including the rebellious looking teenager, my tears subsided and I felt better. It was hands down the nicest thing a stranger has ever done for me. Thank you has never seemed quite enough. Aaron arrived to pick me up right after and I was, "unusually calm."
I'll admit, I am often suspicious of people when they mix religion into everyday speech. I wonder if they mean it. And I feel like religion is the last thing you should use to make people believe you are someone you are not. But when you tell me as I leave, to have a blessed day, I believe you. It is from your heart.
I told Aaron about you. And I could see he didn't really understand just what kind of person you are. But this winter I was having car trouble and he got to meet you. He was so impressed with your real, heartfelt kindness we both agreed if we won the lottery we would come hand you a big fat check...just for being you. You spend all day in a booth taking money from people who have worked all day and are forced to pay to park. It isn't an enviable position. But you are such an amazing person, we all cannot wait to pull up and hand you our ticket and money. So when you tell me to have a blessed day and I respond, "you too!" I mean it. You deserve it.
Aimee
As a part of the month of Valentines Day, I wanted to write you a letter. You don't know my name. You always greet me as "Babes." I suspect that you treat everyone with the same real, from the heart kindness, which is why your line is always long. Everyone wants to have a chance to bid you farewell on our way home from work. Your kindness has an absolute magical impact on the people that pass through your line to leave the parking structure.
You may not remember this, or maybe you do...but one of the first times I met you I was crying, hysterically. While I was at work that day, I received a call that my Grandmother was in code red. Code red meant she was dying, or more likely had already died. I ran up and down 7 floors looking for my car, which I had lost in my emotional state. I was sweating and crying and I felt like there was snot everywhere.
I pulled through your line and handed you my ticket. You saw the state I was in and handed me your box of tissue. You began talking to me as if I was a small child, in a very comforting voice. "Oh baby, what's wrong?" I started apologizing, it was all I could think to do. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. My Grandmother just died and..."
You turned to the young man sweeping cigarette butts beside your booth. He was high school or college aged and his pants were sagging so low I thought he was going to trip himself. "Bow your head and pray with us. Her Grandmother just died." He immediately lowered his dust pan and his head, not for me, but because you told him to.
And then you proceeded to pray for my Grandmother and her passage to Heaven. You prayed for me and my family and that we have some comfort during this time of sadness. You watched the line of cars grow longer behind me and you took your time. I felt such peace. By the time we all said Amen, including the rebellious looking teenager, my tears subsided and I felt better. It was hands down the nicest thing a stranger has ever done for me. Thank you has never seemed quite enough. Aaron arrived to pick me up right after and I was, "unusually calm."
I'll admit, I am often suspicious of people when they mix religion into everyday speech. I wonder if they mean it. And I feel like religion is the last thing you should use to make people believe you are someone you are not. But when you tell me as I leave, to have a blessed day, I believe you. It is from your heart.
I told Aaron about you. And I could see he didn't really understand just what kind of person you are. But this winter I was having car trouble and he got to meet you. He was so impressed with your real, heartfelt kindness we both agreed if we won the lottery we would come hand you a big fat check...just for being you. You spend all day in a booth taking money from people who have worked all day and are forced to pay to park. It isn't an enviable position. But you are such an amazing person, we all cannot wait to pull up and hand you our ticket and money. So when you tell me to have a blessed day and I respond, "you too!" I mean it. You deserve it.
Aimee
Friday, December 2, 2011
Reverb 11 A Moment
Reverb11 Day 2: Pick a Moment from this year-maybe when you felt the most alive or one when you felt the most wounded, happiest, fulfilled. Tell us about it in the most vivid detail you can- sights, sounds, smells, and feelings.
My first Reverb was all about how I started 2011, fragile but gaining strength.
It is only natural my moment of the year is the moment I felt the strongest. Recovering from my surgery required 3 months. 3 months of keeping my heart rate below 100 so I didn't tear the new 10 inches of aorta from it's place. 3 months of no work. 3 months of no lifting. 3 months of being very, very physically broken. I walked everyday on a treadmill with a heart rate monitor, following the rules but trying to push my limits. All I could think was, when you can run you will be healthy.
That thought, while on those long, lonely days of treadmill walking, led me to do some research about running with a heart condition. During one of my many, often angry, scared or sad searches I found Cardiac Athletes. And the group of people were athletes. Not only were they athletes, they were amazing athletes with or without faulty hearts. I was immediately inspired and drawn to them. I knew they were meeting in Akron Ohio for a race. I wanted to join them. Most were signing up for relay teams. Given that I am a terrible, slow runner, I was afraid to join and let them down with a too slow leg of the race. The minute I got the okay to run again, I signed up for the Akron half marathon. The furthest I ran before my heart surgery was 3 miles. So running a half marathon after heart surgery was daunting. But it seemed like the best choice. (I realize this logic might seem completely insane...let me add that I nearly selected the full marathon...so yes I am a bit off.)
I guess there are many small moments in this one big one. When I started training, I took baby steps. I ran and trained and ran to grow the muscles, strengthen my heart and get the dust of 3 months of nothingness off my body. There came a moment when training became more intense and I started upping my mileage. Aaron was naturally afraid when I embarked on my long training runs. So he started running them with me when he could. I live in a rural town...so rural we are not even a town, we are a village. The very center of town is paved roads, but less than a mile out dirt roads prevail. I cannot stand repetition so I run out of town rather than looping the same route over and over. The views are exquisite. Farmers' fields of corn, wheat, and soy boarder the edge of town. Soy, when ready for harvest, glows gold. The thick trees are green and hearty and small ponds, rivers and creeks weave throughout. It smells earthy, like rich potting soil and the only annoyance are the bugs attracted to the heat and sweat off my body. As Aaron and I navigated the silent country roads Aaron pointed to my left. Beyond the road was a shallow but wide body of water. I knew it was shallow because a doe was standing in it watching us run. Deer, to those who haven't seen them in real life, are the size of large dogs and the color of champagne. They are beautiful with soulful brown eyes and watch everything with fearful weariness. The doe we saw was standing in dark water and could only be seen through the trees appearing to be hundreds of years old. There was a slight mist rising from the water surrounding the deer and the whole scene was magical. My thought was, Thank God I am alive and here to see this.
The big Daddy moment of 2011 was finishing the Akron Half Marathon. In my mind being able to complete a half marathon meant I was healthy again. People remarked about the impressiveness of completing the half less than a year after open heart surgery. In all honesty, I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I was trying to let go of the fear that dominated my thoughts:the fear that at any moment I was going to drop dead. I wanted to be strong, not weak, wobbly and fragile. And finishing meant strength, strength that people who aren't sick don't even have. I finally felt well again. Taking a picture with my sons, who were very much the driving force behind fighting to live and recover, was maybe one of the biggest moments in my life. I cannot tell you what it smelled like or even looked like. I can only tell you that I felt alive, with the ones I love, and I had finally run away from death!
My first Reverb was all about how I started 2011, fragile but gaining strength.
It is only natural my moment of the year is the moment I felt the strongest. Recovering from my surgery required 3 months. 3 months of keeping my heart rate below 100 so I didn't tear the new 10 inches of aorta from it's place. 3 months of no work. 3 months of no lifting. 3 months of being very, very physically broken. I walked everyday on a treadmill with a heart rate monitor, following the rules but trying to push my limits. All I could think was, when you can run you will be healthy.
That thought, while on those long, lonely days of treadmill walking, led me to do some research about running with a heart condition. During one of my many, often angry, scared or sad searches I found Cardiac Athletes. And the group of people were athletes. Not only were they athletes, they were amazing athletes with or without faulty hearts. I was immediately inspired and drawn to them. I knew they were meeting in Akron Ohio for a race. I wanted to join them. Most were signing up for relay teams. Given that I am a terrible, slow runner, I was afraid to join and let them down with a too slow leg of the race. The minute I got the okay to run again, I signed up for the Akron half marathon. The furthest I ran before my heart surgery was 3 miles. So running a half marathon after heart surgery was daunting. But it seemed like the best choice. (I realize this logic might seem completely insane...let me add that I nearly selected the full marathon...so yes I am a bit off.)
I guess there are many small moments in this one big one. When I started training, I took baby steps. I ran and trained and ran to grow the muscles, strengthen my heart and get the dust of 3 months of nothingness off my body. There came a moment when training became more intense and I started upping my mileage. Aaron was naturally afraid when I embarked on my long training runs. So he started running them with me when he could. I live in a rural town...so rural we are not even a town, we are a village. The very center of town is paved roads, but less than a mile out dirt roads prevail. I cannot stand repetition so I run out of town rather than looping the same route over and over. The views are exquisite. Farmers' fields of corn, wheat, and soy boarder the edge of town. Soy, when ready for harvest, glows gold. The thick trees are green and hearty and small ponds, rivers and creeks weave throughout. It smells earthy, like rich potting soil and the only annoyance are the bugs attracted to the heat and sweat off my body. As Aaron and I navigated the silent country roads Aaron pointed to my left. Beyond the road was a shallow but wide body of water. I knew it was shallow because a doe was standing in it watching us run. Deer, to those who haven't seen them in real life, are the size of large dogs and the color of champagne. They are beautiful with soulful brown eyes and watch everything with fearful weariness. The doe we saw was standing in dark water and could only be seen through the trees appearing to be hundreds of years old. There was a slight mist rising from the water surrounding the deer and the whole scene was magical. My thought was, Thank God I am alive and here to see this.
The big Daddy moment of 2011 was finishing the Akron Half Marathon. In my mind being able to complete a half marathon meant I was healthy again. People remarked about the impressiveness of completing the half less than a year after open heart surgery. In all honesty, I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I was trying to let go of the fear that dominated my thoughts:the fear that at any moment I was going to drop dead. I wanted to be strong, not weak, wobbly and fragile. And finishing meant strength, strength that people who aren't sick don't even have. I finally felt well again. Taking a picture with my sons, who were very much the driving force behind fighting to live and recover, was maybe one of the biggest moments in my life. I cannot tell you what it smelled like or even looked like. I can only tell you that I felt alive, with the ones I love, and I had finally run away from death!
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