chey being

For my untempered heart


Throwback Thursday – Mommy and Me

I woke up feeling a bit sentimental over my mother today.  I find it surprising since I have been upset with her lately.  Try as I might to figure it out, I’ve decided to just allow it.

What is it about mother’s?  I can never be mad at her for long.  Even when she has done horrible things, I still love her, I still need her, and I still want her in my life.


Check out that collar!

We are so alike and yet so different.  On the outside, we look just alike (Ok, you can’t really tell with me as a baby but trust me, we look alike!).  On the inside, we are both strong and creative.  We are both critical and I hate that about myself (Mom, sorry, but I blame you!).  Yet there is something very different that it is hard to put into words.  She is guarded with me if I had to guess, and I will never know or understand why.

Do you think this is a good idea, mom?

Do you think this is a good idea, mom?

We live on opposite ends of the States so we rarely see one another.  I miss her desperately at times.  I envy those that have their mother’s close.  I have always craved a closer relationship with her.  She is very independent and too self-serving to put time into our relationship.  That is my side of the story anyway.  These are my expectations of what I want from her and I know that is something I should not do.  She is who she is and I must love and accept her for that.  And I do, most of the time.

Mom is ruining the picture with her eyes half closed but I am workin' it!

Mom is ruining the picture with her eyes half closed but I am workin’ it!

So Mom, even though you will never see this, I want to say that where ever you are, whatever mountain you are climbing, whatever cave you are exploring, whatever trail you are meandering, I love you til the ends of the earth, which is usually where you are!  I will always crave more of you, but thank you for being there when I have needed you most!




Choosing Fear

It is said that every action is done either out of love or out of fear.  We eat healthy because we love our body or we eat healthy out of fear of getting sick. We may call our significant other because we want to express our love or we call because we fear losing them.  We wear certain clothes because we love how they make us feel or we wear them because we fear not fitting in.  We lose weight out of loving our bodies or we lose weight for fear of others not loving or accepting us.  We strive to win out of the love of challenging ourselves or out of fear of being a failure.

I experienced both sides of that coin the other day after a group meditation.

The mediation inevitably ran long as most gatherings of people do.  I was enjoying sharing everyone’s company and at the end of the evening I coincidentally ended up receiving some useful advice on writing and publishing.  When I went out to my car, I could not believe how long I had stayed over the time I had told my family when I would be home.  It really wasn’t a big deal; no one needed me for anything, and I was on cloud nine from the mediation and the new information I had procured.  I checked my phone before heading home.

Two missed calls from my son and two missed calls from my husband.

I called my son back first.

Me:  Hi honey!
Son:  Hi mom!
Me:  I’m so sorry I am running late.  The group ran long but I am on my way home now.
Son:  That’s OK, I was just checking on you to make sure you were ok.  How was your meeting?
Me:  It was wonderful.  Thank you honey for asking and thinking of me….etc.

Then I called my husband.

Me:  Hi.  I’m sorry but it ran long.  I just wanted to let you know that I’m on my way home now.
Husband:  What have you been doing? (he says rather perturbed)
Me:  Nothing, it just ran long.  We all got to talking but I really learned a lot.
Husband:  You were talking all this time?
Me:  Well….(I go on the explain the evening’s events and none too happily as I have to justify why I’m late and my excuse that he apparently doesn’t seem to believe).
Husband:  Why didn’t you have your phone with you?
Me:  It was a meditation!  You can’t have your phone going off while you’re mediating!

I don’t really remember any more specifics after that other than we started arguing and I eventually hung up on him.

I dreaded going home at this point.  I was so happy just moments before.  What the hell had just happened?  I was really upset that he didn’t even care to hear about all my good news.  I was even more upset that I felt like I was being controlled.

Two very different conversations with two very different outcomes.  I believe one was out of love and one was out of fear.  Fear prompted my husband’s actions.  Fear of me leaving him, fear of me not needing him, fear of me meeting someone “better,” and deep insecurities so old that they have nothing to do with me.

But here I am.  Here I am yet again with the universe showing me that this just isn’t working.  And here I am again…waiting.  Waiting for what?  I don’t know.  I suppose I am waiting for the universe to slap me in the face so many times that I finally must surrender black and blue, or die.

It is said that every action is done either out of love or out of fear.  We stay with someone because we love who we are with them or we stay because we fear hurting people, or because we fear not having enough money, or because we fear we didn’t try hard enough, or because we fear failing yet again, or because…

All of the above.


Photo credit:


Walking Like Sasquatch

I wrote the following Guest Post for the blog, Lessons from the end of a marriage.  Please be sure to check out Lisa’s amazing journey and wise insights into marriage and divorce.  Thank you Lisa for the Guest Post!!

Recently, my husband and I were on a walk and I was in a rather silly mood.  I was being goofy and started doing funny walks, a moon walk (MJ I am not!), skipping, a penguin walk, and then I began walking like Sasquatch.  I was taking long slow deliberate steps and slowly moving my head side to side, just like in the famous video played on TV a million times over.  Later that evening, we went to see the new X-Men movie at the Drive-In (Yes, we have a Drive-In…so cool!) and in the movie, there was an awesome slow-motion scene.  All this slow-motion business caused me to think about how we live life…there is nothing slo-mo about it.

My life was a prime example of being quick to draw.  I would immediately judge every situation and circumstance, and react.  If my ex-husband sent me a not-so-nice email, I would quickly respond with a biting tongue.  It was my current husband who opened my eyes to my behavior.  I would show him my responses to my ex and he always told me that I needed to wait, calm down, and then respond.  My agitation would not help the situation but only add fuel to the fire.

I acted quickly in all situations of crisis.  I don’t like loose-ends, I want to be in control, and if someone upsets me I feel they need to know it.  I also feared “bad things” happening if I didn’t act fast enough to try and “fix” them.  Life can quickly become a series of reactions.  When that happens, we are no longer determining our path, we are letting circumstances dictate our life.  We become like a computer where somebody is pushing our buttons and we react.  The computer does not make the decisions, it only runs its program (your mind) and responds accordingly.

Aside from my Type A personality, there was a deeper reason to my quick emotional responses.  I have since figured out that when I am not living my truth, my path in life, every silly little thing around me becomes my life.  There is nothing else, I am not creating anything else, so I create distractions that appear meaningful.  When I am living and moving in a direction that is purposeful, all the little distractions have less meaning and power over me.  They become little bumps in the road, no more, no less.  I no longer allow them to veer me off down a dead end.

Life happens and at times it seems to spin out of control.  We try to match the pace to control it by making impulsive decisions.  Our responses are often based solely on emotions, such as fear, jealousy, anger, and hurt.  Sometimes no action is best but we do not allow ourselves a moment to ask, is this really important to me?  I have learned to sit back, allow myself to think and then react if necessary.  I try to not let fear or my Irish temper control what I do.  Fear has controlled me for most of my life.  I no longer want to run that program.  As silly as it sounds, I want to live life walking like Sasquatch.  We can all make more conscious moves.  We can watch the world spin around us and if we want to join in, we can, if not, we can keep moving.


A life in letters.

As a young child and into my teens, I consistently wrote letters to my grandmother.  She lived a few states away and our families only came together for Christmas and summer vacation, but we were always communicating.  Writing thank you notes and life updates to her were never a chore.  When I think of writing letters now, it is a tedious process that I have little patience for!  Sign of the times, I suppose.  It was a different time, a different era.

I always felt a close connection to my grandmother.  I find it hard to put into words as I can not think of a specific reason or event as to why I felt so close to a woman I rarely spent time with.  It was purely a feeling on my part and to be honest, I know she loved me dearly, but I have no idea if she felt the same in return.  I was her first out of only two grandchildren, so I am certain I was extra spoiled. Grandparents have the luxury of simply loving their grandchildren and leaving all the dirty work to the parents.  Maybe that is why I adored her so much.  She loved me, I felt it, and I appreciated it.

I do not remember the occasion, if there was one, but somewhere around my late teens or early twenties, she presented me with a stack of photo albums containing all the letters I had ever written to her.  She had saved them all those years.  Just looking at the bright turquoise and orange flowered albums brings a sense of nostalgia.  Very 70’s looking.  I was so moved by her thoughtfulness.  I wonder if that had been her plan all along, or if one day she thought it time to do something with her amassed collection.  I will never know.

I have not looked at them since the day she gave them to me.  It has been over 20 years.  They are safely put away in some plastic bin and have followed me though my life’s journey.  It makes me happy knowing they are there; it is a comfort, but I am too scared of the heartache to peer into their depths.  My grandmother passed away about five years ago.  I still have dreams where I am trying to communicate with her even though she is gone.  I am pleading and crying in the dreams and I always wake up to my pillow wet with tears.  I am not ready.

These letters are a timeline of sorts of my childhood.  I have no doubt they begin with my first words put to paper and move through my carefree early years, my silly drawings,  my coming of age, the boy bands, and the glory and heartache of my first love.  They are leftovers of a relationship.  One-sided of course, as I did not save many of her letters to me.  One day I will be able to crack open those over-stuffed albums, and a box of Kleenex and I will laugh and cry at my lost youth and my lost friend.  Some day.


Photo credit:


Fifty Word Inspiration

Chik, chuk, chik, chuk; the hazards beat a dull heart.

We line the cars up along the sepia-tinted streets of my childhood.

There are flags trembling, a light drizzle.

I am alone in my car, waving to my best friend just ahead.

It is a parade, a homecoming,

a funeral.  “Homecoming” by Jen Groeber: Mama Art


I have never been to a one before.

I have never had anyone close to me die.

I always wondered how I would react.  How can I predict an emotion to an event that I have never  experienced?  They say most human reactions are based on prior experience.  Like triggers from our childhood.  I have no prior experience from which to draw.

I feel numb.  Is that normal?

I never thought I would come back to this now-foreign place.

What is normal?

I notice when the drops become too heavy, they careen down my windshield.

I feel my insides have gone into crisis mode, unsure of what to put out.  Maybe I fried the system.

What do I say to people?  I am afraid.  I don’t want to think about this anymore.

Time is a funny thing.  Everything is rearranged in a second.  I don’t remember what it was like before.  The past feels like a dream.  Did any of it really happen?

We are stopped now.  Like birds being released from a cage, they begin to file out from their cars.

Everything looks black in misty weather.

I know it is coming.  I know my insides will figure it out eventually.

A hollow knock on the window startles me.  Time is a funny thing.  It never stops.

**The first part of the this post was written by Jen Groeber for the Fifty Challenge.  This weeks writing challenge was to use a Fifty for inspiration, which is what I added after the line.

Check out my original Fifty, The Meeting.

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