Reminder: Days End

It’s hard to see the forest for the trees. Some days can have you so badly beaten down you forget it was just one tree doing the beating, not all trees. There are still plenty of trees out in that forest to attack and reduce you down to a bloody pulp.

Not to mention when it rains it pours. Not only do you have one tree beating you but it’s pouring down rain. Now, you’re wet and the tree is also receiving vital nutrients so it’s getting stronger.Perhaps you're getting less splinters though since it's not as dry.

Then there’s bad news comes in three. The one tree wasn’t enough so here comes some jacked-up-on-water buddies to make sure that when you’re down, you stay down.

When your swollen shut, bloodshot, bruised and battered eyes finally do open and the trees have returned to the forest and the sun is shining, you’re expected to get back up on your broken legs and shattered knee caps and saunter forward. You’re expected after being stricken with all that life can throw at you to be okay, to survive, to keep the momentum of life going.

Get back on the horse. What if the forest killed your horse? What if it was a Neil Gaiman forest that sucked everything down to the marrow? Some days it feels like it’s just me broken and battered trying to fend off trees from truly ending things. Some days it feels like the sky is falling and I sow but never reap. Some days I want to play dead even though I know it won’t stop the trees from coming for me. Even though I know it’s hiding from my problems.

Sunsets are truly beautiful. I love my sun rises but sunsets bring a close to the day. It means you get to sleep soon or wander or just be in darkness. It brings a conclusion. Days end but a new one begins just as quickly. Days end, recollect yourself, formulate a plan for the next day, try to remember that not all is lost or bad. That thanks to deforestation the forest can’t go on forever. There’s an end somewhere and you just have to reach it but don’t wait for a knight in shining armor. Smear some mud on your face so the trees can’t smell you and learn to survive. Giving up, is when the forest wins and there’s no coming back from that.  

Rogue Athletes

Yesterday at my kickboxing class I wasn’t feeling it. I was going through the motions. My partner for this class was a lovely petite lady who was wailing on the bag, just powerhouse kicks and punches. I repressed the urge to say “Roadhouse” after every kick but she was truly amazing. I easily had 4 inches of height on her and could not even begin to produce the power she was dishing. 

When we started chit chatting between sets, I told her she must be crazy strong. She denied it and said,

“I try. I’m not like an athlete or anything.”  

 For whatever reason this threw me for a loop. I remember when I was first getting into longer distance running and I was having so many issues and my running partner finally stated that I run 4 days a week, I go to the gym the other days, I work hard, I’m an athlete. I need to treat myself like an athlete. She was right. I started a better stretch routine, ate more, ate better, drank more water, really forced myself to be more.

The girl who was kicking the bejeesus out of this bag WAS an athlete and I told her as such. I told her she works hard and often and she’s strong and beautiful and that makes her an athlete more so than anyone who plays an organized sport. 

“Thank you. I think as women we are so often so hard on ourselves and keep thinking we can do more or better. It’s nice to be able to give myself credit.” She said.

The rest of class I was asking her how to get better kicks, how to have better form and she knew the answers to all of them. I told her that being an athlete is someone who is training as hard as they can. We’re both athletes but because we don’t belong to a sport or only play one kind of game I told her we were rogue athletes. She loved that term, rogue athletes. It became our battle cry in kickboxing when we felt like giving up.

Dear All Rogue Athletes,

               Don’t let anything define you. You are strong. You are capable. You are willing to pound out that extra mile on the pavement or pedal 5 miles faster or swim 4 more extra laps or do 5 more sets. You are true to yourself and your body. You give it what it needs. You know it better than your doctor. You can push its limits. Whether the backdrop is the great outdoors, a cityscape, a rural road, a park, a gym or even your own home, you work hard and deserve to know that you’re an athlete. You’re the best kind of athlete; you’re a rogue athlete. You’re your own coach, teammate and ref.  You define when and where, how and why. You set your own rules, your own limits and push yourself harsher than you thought possible. You destroy PRs and smile at your pain. You’re a champion. You’re the eye of the tiger. You are what many wish to be, an athlete. 

Love,

LeilaFace

An Impromptu Date

Yesterday, I had big plans. I was going to do some final grocery shopping, go for a run, cook a meal Tim requested, meet up for my weight training session, do some Pilates. Some of that happened. But here’s what really happened.

I went to the grocery store without my phone and while I’m almost finished with the tedious task I see my husband walking towards me, trying to call me on his cell phone.

“I don’t have my phone,” I said.

“Noticed. Did you know you’re parked like right next to me?” He said.

“Really? Ha!”

“Yeah I came in here to buy lentils for dinner and I walk back out and there’s your car.”

“Oh man, I’m oblivious.”

We walk around the store for a bit longer picking out other things we need replenished. We talk about our days, even stole a smooch or two.

Then I tell him the wines are on sale. We spend a good 30 minutes in the wine section. We’re walking arms around one another, laughing at the names of wines, suggesting wines for one another. He likes Malbecs, I like Zinfandels. We start discussing our youth and the crappy wine we drank. We laughed and played our weird games. We were obnoxiously loud. My laughs echoed. Tim joked about the hand penned sign in the store stating “Ham Destination” and asked if we could vacation there. The man does love his ham. I tried to hide and Tim found me.

In the end Tim settled on a nice, classy boxed wine Malbec and I got plum wine and sake we also bought those grow capsules for kids. Why they were in the wine aisle I have no idea.

I didn’t end up running. I did end up cooking Tim the dinner he wanted and going to the gym. However, what was more important to me was realizing that the man who is my husband truly is my best friend. What started out as a quick grocery store mission turned into an impromptu date. It’s never a dull moment when you’re with your best friend and the person you love.  Love isn’t always about the passion and fire and ice and the sweeping off of feet. Sometimes it’s about realizing that just being around one another can be a romantic and cozy affair and can make the day better.

For Boston

It’s a sad time for America. Not just because of the two bombs that destroyed an iconic race but because we are a country divided. People are pointing fingers before the dust even settles. This was a terrorist act. That statement does not mean I am accusing one group or person or country over another. I am saying this was an act to inflict terror and it has succeeded. I am terrified that the people in our country can’t band together over a tragedy. Immediately accusations start flying and conspiracy theories, false information and other misguided facts and statements begin appearing. Before a tear can be shed “proof” has been posted. It’s a sad, sick way to live. Always looking for someone to blame instead of taking the time to donate blood, give your sympathies or in my case run a 5k to show your support for a marathon ripped asunder.

I am an American. If I wasn’t I would find my way out of this country. If you aren’t happy here I suggest that is what you do. If you can’t support your fellow Americans, I suggest that’s what you do. If you have left, then you made the right choice and no longer have any right to judge us for not following you.

Boston, I loved you before I met you. After my few short trips walking your streets, breathing your history and meeting your people I can say I truly love you. As someone who was training to be a first responder, my heart is with every EMT, Fire Fighter, Police Officer, Nurse, Doctor and anyone who rushed in to help their fellow man. The Boston Marathon brings in people from a multitude of countries and backgrounds. It’s something people train years to be able to even qualify. As a runner, I can’t imagine what that day, Patriot’s Day, was like for anyone involved. I know the thrill of seeing the finish line. I know the pain of training. I know the love you feel of people cheering you on. It’s gut wrenching to see what happened. I don’t have enough words to express my sympathies and that my love and thoughts are with you, Boston.

I don’t know what people went through on that day but I do know I saw many people rush into the danger, rush to help and strive to rescue. As heartbreaking as seeing those bombs go off was, I know Boston is a strong city built on survival and I know it’s people will always be there to rebuild, to grow and to care for one another. Boston, you are not my home, but you hold my heart. Sleep well knowing America, those patriots, stand behind you.

Call Me a Loser Because I Can't Win

First world problems? Sure. I am grateful I have a job and a job that allows me to work from home. I’m grateful for my loving husband. This is where my gratitude ends. I’ve had it with my efforts. I’m not normally a quitter. In fact, I preserver where many tell me to turn back, give up, let go.

I have met my wall. The move to California has won. I have been sick since I got here which has severely limited my physical abilities/activities. I haven’t gotten a good night sleep in weeks thanks to waking up every hour with a coughing spell or having Duke puke or the puppy use the carpeted floor as it’s personal bathroom. My husband is gone pretty much continuously. I get him on the weekends (sometimes).  I unpacked the house alone. I’m housebreaking a puppy alone. I’m exploring our area alone. Over the past 2 months I have gained 10 pounds, been mostly bed ridden, learned essentially a new job and found out California takes most of my paycheck.

This week is coming to a close, I get paid on Friday. I finally went to the doctor about my never ending illness. He provided a laundry list of suggestions, medications, etc. I can’t afford to do any of that until I get paid. I can’t even afford groceries to get me though the week. I had to ask Tim to transfer $20 into my bank account to cover the gas I put in my car. And he’s also stretching pennies so it’s not just me playing the penniless fiddle.

This is what California has done to me: Given me an endless supply of allergies acerbated by the dry air, take away most of my paycheck so that I am now trying to find a second job, take away my husband, added a puppy that will not be housebroken, changed my job requiring new training, weight gain and let’s see is there anything I’m missing oh yes, taken me away from a great establishment of friends and family.

Sure the sun is out but I’d trade it to be able to afford groceries, medications and gas any day of the week. I know this is a woe’s me post. I know I’m sharing too much. Oh no Leila is being open with feelings. Get over it. Writing is my outlet; if you can’t handle my misery then don’t read it. This isn’t a pity party this is me giving up, which I NEVER DO but I am so tired and sick and upset. So I’m done, I’m retiring. No more Leila to kick around. I’m going to disappear, buckle down. I’m going to focus on me so I don’t get sucked into a black hole. I’m bowing out of humanity until I can see the good in myself again. If you see this as me saying I'm killing myself then you're an idiot. I'm just going to be ex-communication until I can find my bearing again.

I’m waving my white flag, you win California, enjoy picking the flesh from my carcass. Let my bones bleach in the desert.

I AM A PERSON

Often times, I feel because I hold no religion I am overlooked, not heard and especially disregarded. It’s as though my views, morals and beliefs are easily dismissed simply because I do not follow God, Christ, Buddha, Allah, the Flying Spaghetti Monster or any other form of religion. I have been told because I have no religion, that my moral compass is corrupt, my children will be raised wild and (oddly enough) I worship Satan. First things first, if I worshiped Satan that would be a religion and it would be a religion based on the bible.

Here is the thing about me: I hold no religion but I do have faith, morals and beliefs. I have faith in myself and the goodness I give and hope to receive from others. I believe that we should do onto others and we would have them do onto ourselves. I was raised catholic and while my faith and beliefs may be rooted in that my branches have grown far from it. I am not a kind person to please some unseen entity. I am a kind, caring and loving person because I believe the good you send out will come back. I am the person I am to be a good person, not to be rewarded or receive enlightenment. I give penance for any of my wrong actions and I am always quick to apologize for my short temper, short comings or short jokes. I say “Thank You,” “Please,” and “You’re Welcome” as often as I say hello.  

I believe every person deserves love and respect and a second chance. I believe in equal rights, equal pay and being allowed to do with your body what you wish. I have studied many religions and read the bible cover to cover several times. I often believe sometimes it takes more strength to follow something bigger than oneself. However, when that following leads to bigotry, sexism, exclusion and hate. I simply can’t believe that is the path chosen by your higher entity or one that I will ever personally take.

I am no moral judge and juror, no one should be. I don’t care what you do within the law. Drink a big gulp of soda, order a big mac, stockpile guns, worship your entity, and declare your love in public. You are entitled to do what makes you happy and I will never deny someone the right to be happy even if I don’t agree with it. All of this being said everything is a two way street. I will never judge you but I know others judge me for my lack of religion, my tattoos heck even using birth control and while I know I am judged I know I also can’t change someone’s mind about me. Someone who judges is someone who will stick to their original judgment, this much I know. Because I can’t change their mind, I don’t fight it or them. I let go and let love. Why waste the energy trying to change someone’s stubborn mind.

If you engage me I will talk and I will defend my beliefs, my morals and my faith just as any person with a religion would do. I am no different from someone with religion. We are all people trying to figure out our purpose and trying to survive.

For those who have expressed concern about raising a child without religion I want to assure you they will have faith. Faith that people (though rarely these days) all carry the seed of good. They will not hold hatred in their hearts. They will not see people as colors or gay or straight or male or female. They will, like me, know and understand that people are people no matter where you are and that being kind is a virtue, not chore. They will learn to be accepting of everyone and to listen and accept all religions. They will be citizens of the soul. My children (if I have any) will be sweet and loving and willing to help anyone and everyone just as I am. They will not be afraid to stand up for what they believe and what they think is right and while they are free to choose a religion of their own it will be their choice because religion is a personal choice and no one should be tried and hanged for any personal choice.