Life Well Lived - Words

There is an old saying "Actions speak louder than words." Often, that is very true. But sometimes, WORDS do the trick. Recently, this has been the case for me. Words have been all around me lately, uplifting me, reminding me of the amazing people I have in my life. And since it's Wednesday, this is a celebration of a Life Well Lived, as well.

For my birthday last, my amazing brother wrote me a letter. A letter that now has a permanent home in my wallet, so that I can read it anytime I want/need. Those words mean more to me than any gift he could ever buy me.
Ryan wrote ALL OVER our bathroom mirror after I'd gone through a particularly tough couple of weeks (filled with self-loathing). I do not plan to erase his words anytime soon.

My (new, great) friend Katelyn posted such a unique compliment on my Facebook wall, that I had to snap a screen shot.

And even something as simple as "the three magic words", written here by my 'soul-sister' Lindsay, elevate my spirit.

WORDS do so very much. I try to use them as much as possible to express my feelings to my loved ones. I often get called mushy, but I'm okay with that. I'd like to think, maybe, it's endearing?

But the point of this is not to humble-brag about how awesome people think I am. ;) (JOKE.) It's to get to this...Recently, my good friend Richard and I were having a random discussion about random things - like usual - and we got on the topic of compliments. One thing led to another and I told him I try to give at least one compliment a day. He told me he liked that idea. I went on to explain that, for me, nothing makes me feel better than seeing that I've made someone else feel good. We continued with our conversation and I challenged him to give a compliment a day. And since, recently, I feel like people in my life have been flooding me with praise and kindness, it's only right that I turn around and repay that into the universe.

Life Well Lived - Vol 7

Click above ^ to see where this all started.

I have celebrated 28 amazing birthdays.
Yesterday was my 28th birthday. It was a great day filled with family, friends, cards, kind words and thoughtful gestures. I was feeling quite nostalgic and reflective yesterday as I thought back to all my birthdays. I cannot think of a single year when "my day" wasn't made a big deal. And, honestly, it should be! It's a celebration of the day you were born! I have far too many memories to talk about them all...which is awesome. :)


I re-visited Disney World in my teens.
I was a lucky kid. My maternal grandparents lived in Kentucky, but would "migrate" south to Florida during the winter months. Just about every year from birth to 10 or so, we would go visit them in Cocoa Beach, FL for Spring Break. We would stay with them in their condo and spend hours on the beach. This also meant we got to go to Disney World almost every year of my childhood. I told you - LUCKY! After a certain point, my grandparents were no longer able to travel to Florida, so we would visit them in Kentucky...and our trips to Disney stopped. Well, in 2001, my parents decided it would be fun to go back since Frankie was 15 and I was 18. We would be able to see the park in a different way and do things we couldn't as kids. Our trip was planned for October 2001. When the attacks on 9/11 happened, we discussed cancelling the trip out of fear - but my Dad, who travels a LOT for work, convinced us it was really the safest time to travel. So, we went. The airports were quiet. The plane was only half full. And Disney World? Practically deserted. This made for an amazing trip. The Disney employees treated us like royalty. We didn't wait in line for anything. And I got to skip around the Magic Kingdom, at 18 years old, hand in hand with Daisy Duck.



I totally failed at being sneaky.

This picture makes me laugh every time I look at it. While at a Kings of Leon concert, the guys across the isle started talking to us. They had Australian accents (YES!) and were asking us what there was to do around the venue. We gave them a few ideas and went back to watching the concert...and discussing how incredibly good looking one of the guys in the group was. Like, movie star handsome. Like, when he walked past, all the women around him stopped and gawked. So, I decided we HAD TO HAVE a picture to remember him by. We planned it out carefully. I would lean against the railing in front of us and act like I was taking a picture of Brittany and Kim - but really, I'd be taking a picture of the dude. We'd been very quiet in planning our "sneak attack" and it was executed flawlessly...until I got home and uploaded the pictures, only to find that we'd been outsmarted. He totally caught me...and put his hand over his face. FAIL. But we sure did laugh about it! And isn't that what makes Life Well Lived?!

Life Well Lived - Vol 6

I wasn't going to write a LWL post today. Wednesdays often creep up on me and, while I have ideas, I haven't gotten around to digging out the pictures. So, I was going to shrug my shoulders and let this post pass me by.

Until I read Mandy's post.

Suddenly, I was inspired. A thought crossed my mind and I was compelled to write about it. I don't have pictures this week, just my words. Lots of words...which I generally try not to do, because I worry people get bored. But that's not what it's about...because it is the essence of why I feel mine is a Life Well Lived.

I am a life-long Anxiety sufferer. Not like "most" people, where I would feel butterflies before a test or a date. Mine started when I was about 4-years-old. Yes, four. I don't have a ton of memories from this age, but the ones I have REALLY stand out. Like being at a birthday party and looking around, not seeing either of my parents, and going into an absolute panic. They were at the party, and once I found them, I was fine...but I was glued to their side the rest of the day. I also remember the first psychiatrist I ever saw. Her name was Dr. Shaw and I can still see her standing in front of me. Silver hair, soft voice, dark, fragrant wood in her office. We did a lot of play therapy as she tried to figure out what had made this little 4-year-old so afraid. No one had done anything to me, she decided, a huge relief to my parents. I "just" had an extreme case of separation anxiety.

As the years went on, nothing changed. I was afraid of pretty much anyone that I wasn't related to. I didn't spend the night at friend's houses. I didn't go to birthday parties unless one of my parents stayed the whole time. My parents rarely got a date night, because there was only one babysitter that I was okay with...and she was in high demand. When I entered the 4th grade, something did change - but not for the better. Suddenly, my anxiety was the worst it had ever been. I was afraid of EVERYTHING. I am not exaggerating. With the exception of my Dad and Frankie, I was afraid of all men, my precious Grandfather's included. (I can only imagine how much this broke my Mother's heart. There was never a more gentle man than her Dad.) And then...school started. And Things. Got. Worse. I was completely terrified of school. I had the nicest teacher on the planet, and a principal who took a special interest in making me feel safe at school. But nothing helped.

I can't tell you what happened, or why things so suddenly got worse, but they did. I was in a constant state of fear. And at 10 years old, that is really hard to understand. Lucky for me, I had the World's Most Understanding Parents. (Yes, that should be an actual title awarded to my parents.) My Mom took me to all the best doctors, let me stay home from school when it got so bad that I couldn't leave my bedroom and was ALWAYS there for me. My Dad walked me to school almost every day that year. But not just TO the school. He walked me into the school, down the 4th grade hallway, and into my classroom, where he would stand at the back of the class room until I got distracted and stopped looking back to make sure he was still there. I even left in the middle of the day once - all by myself - and ran home. Thank God my Mom was home.

Let's fast forward a few years; 5th and 6th grades were better. I was still scared of a lot, and still didn't do a lot of normal pre-teen things because of my anxiety, but I was more manageable. Then, suddenly, I had another unexplained set back in 7th grade. I had the best friends I'd had in years. I had some of the most amazing teachers I'd ever had. Yet, I was paralyzed by fear. Literally. I would FREEZE. I can recall a handful of days when I would just melt down during class. All of my teachers knew about my "condition" and could spot my anxiety attacks a mile away. They would rush me off to the counselor's office (God bless Mrs. Campbell) where - things are about to get real - I would hide behind her filing cabinet, knees held tight againt my chest, crying, until my Mom would walk in the take me home. Thirteen years old. It was SO embarrassing and I hated myself because of it. This quickly spiraled into a deep depression. I know, many will roll their eyes at the thought of a 13-year-old being depressed. Ask my parents. Or my brother. I would fake sick as often as I could to stay home, where I wouldn't leave my room. I'd write in my journal all day long, trying to understand why I felt this way. Meanwhile, my amazing Mother was still taking me to numerous doctors. An amazing team of doctors at Children's Medical Center finally seemed to get a handle on things. I had (here's another title for you) the World's Most Amazing Neurologist, Dr. Weinberg, on my side as well as an amazing psychiatrist who taught me the "art" of biofeedback. Between the two of them, medication, the patience of my teachers and the unconditional love of my family, we fought this beast HARD. It was a long, exhausting battle. One that went on, and slowly improved, for the next 7 years.

Now, this post isn't about how hard it was (and it WAS), or to evoke sympathy. I don't want sympathy. I want to CELEBRATE...because as I type this today, I can proudly say that I am anxiety-FREE 95% of the time. That is no small feat, my friends. That is WORK, and LOVE, and PATIENCE from the people around me...and from myself.

It makes me PROUD. And GRATEFUL. And, oh my goodness, SO HAPPY.

And honestly, nothing, makes my life more well lived than that. :)

Musical Musings

Let me start by saying, I have been in a pretty "Debbie Downer" mood the past two days. I'm dealing with some serious self-reflection and it's been tough going down that road...again. This song is one that really lifts me up and makes me look at the BIG picture. In fact, for a couple of weeks now, I've been meaning to blog about this song, but today feels right.

WARNING: If you have a problem with my hippy ways, stop reading now...because this song is all about loving everyone and being free. ;)

This song is by a Matisyahu. He is a Hasidic reggae musician. (Yes, you read that right.) And he is fantastic. Ryan actually introduced me to his music several years ago with his Live at Stubbs album and I was hooked. I've loved all of his stuff, but none more than this song. It gives me goosebumps head to toe. (As most songs I will share in my Musical Musings posts do.)

Matisyahu - One Day
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRmBChQjZPs

Sometimes I lay
Under the moon
And thank God I'm breathing
Then I pray
Don't take me soon
Cause I am here for a reason

Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around
Because
All my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
For the people to say
That we don't wanna fight no more
There be no more wars
And our children will play

One day...

It's not about
Win or lose
Because we all lose
When they feed on the souls of the innocent
Blood drenched pavement
Keep on moving though the waters stay raging
In this maze you can lose your way
It might drive you crazy but don't let it faze you no way, no way

Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around
Because
All my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
For the people to say
That we don't wanna fight no more
There be no more wars
And our children will play

One day...

One day this all will change
Treat people the same
Stop with the violence
Down the the hate
One day we'll all be free
And proud to be
Under the same sun
Singing songs of freedom like

One day, one day...

All my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
For the people to say
That we don't wanna fight no more
There be no more wars
And our children will play

One day...

Life Well Lived - Vol 5

Shame on me. I skipped Life Well Lived last week. I was feeling very uninspired...so I just didn't do it. Not this week, folks! This week, I have a new list of three things that make me feel that mine is a Life Well Lived.

I have been to a World Series baseball game.

As I think I've talked about on this little blog of mine before, I. Love. Baseball. I was raised by a man who pretty much views it as a religion. Yes. My Dad worships the game. He played it his entire life, until his back physically wouldn't let him anymore. So, growing up it was always a part of my life. We went to more baseball games than I can count. Both games HE was playing, and major league games. Growing up in Texas, most people rank football as their favorite sport. Not me. I chose baseball every time. So, when our very own Texas Rangers made it all the way to the World Series, my generous Dad jumped on the chance to treat us to, what could quite possibly be, a once in a lifetime opportunity - To go to a World Series baseball game. And even though the Rangers, sadly, lost...it was one the best days of my life.

I've played in the sprinklers as an adult. Photo credit to the fabulous Jim Wall.

Sometimes, when you live in Texas and its 101* and you are outside for several hours, you just have to run through the sprinklers - with your clothes on. It was just as much fun at (two weeks from) 28 as it was at 8.

I go to a LOT of concerts.

I left this one present tense for a reason. I don't plan on stopping anytime soon. I think everyone has that "one thing". The thing they spend their money on. The thing they do to reward themselves for working. The thing that brings JOY to their soul. This is mine. If I love an artist/band/musician...I want to see them live. So I try to, as much as I can. Local music in tiny bars, sold out stadiums and everything in between. The collage above pictures about a dozen that I've been two over the past few years, but all in all, I don't think I could put a number on it. But, I can certainly tell you which were the best. ;) And getting to do that...makes my life so very well lived.