About Choices...

I've been thinking a lot about choices lately. When you sit down and think about it, virtually everything we do comes from a choice. A choice we make, whether consciously or not, can determine the direction of our life. Pull out in front of a car quickly instead of waiting, can spur one off in a direction never thought possible and sometimes simply be the end of our path all together. That late afternoon coffee can keep us up all night. Everything is a choice and each of those choices have an impact on our lives, no matter how small.

Life gets more complicated as we grow older, add families and begin to lose the people we love. These complications add even more choices to an already complicated process. We begin to make choices for other people or because of other people and we learn about their choices and what they mean.

Watching my daughters find their places in life, making choices that may or may not be the best isn't always easy but I've come to realize for the most part, their choices are theirs and they won't learn from them if they don't make them. Of course there are situations where, as a parent, we must step in and stop a choice or correct one but for the most part, they're not going to learn if they don't deal with the consequences of their choices.

I watched my parents make choices that damaged their health and ultimately ended their lives. They knew what they were doing and chose to continue down that path.

I have no true control over what choices anyone makes. The only choices I can control, for the most part, are my own. Sometimes I have to make choices I don't like, for the sake of others or because it's simply the right thing to do. I could choose not to make those choices but it's all part of the process and sometimes it just simply is what it is.

I've spent a lot of time evaluating the choices I've made lately. Some were ones I didn't consciously make and some were made because of circumstances I couldn't control. What I had to realize about those choices is that while I did make them, consciously or not, I allowed them to continue, which in and of itself, is a choice.

I had to make a conscious choice if I wanted to continue along the path these choices directed me or if I wanted to find a new path by making a new choice. I've decided to make new choices. Some have been easier than others but they're mine. I own them, I made them and I'm going with the flow of them.

I'm not entirely sure what direction they're going to take me. Each choice has a ripple effect and requires even more choices but that's part of the fun of making conscious choices. I may do fine and I may stumble but if I do, I'll do it knowing I made a choice and have some form of control over what happens next.

I hope, as I continue down the path I'm choosing, I can positively impact those around me to make better, more informed choices, too.

Is This MY Blog?

Hello. My name is Carolyn. I've owned this blog for quite some time yet seldom do I do anything with it. Uninspired? Maybe. Bored and have nothing to write about? Also a maybe. Lazy? I'm thinking, probably, yes, lazy. That's okay. This too shall pass, right?

This year has brought a few changes to life as I know it. CBS canceled Medium, which sadly, means no more Joe DuBois (Jake Weber) to drool over. He really is the perfect husband, you know. How many men would tolerate their wives waking them up nightly because of wild, crazy dreams about murders and things that simply make no sense? Plus, she talks to his dad, who has been dead forever. Really, the guy is amazing. You'll be missed, Joe DuBois. Some people might find that a bit odd, one of the changes in my life being the cancellation of a TV show but well, it is what it is.

There are other changes, too. Self-inflicted changes that require more work for me. The lazy girl. What was I thinking? My biggest change is going back to working out. Which, by the way, is much harder at 44 than one would think. The bones and the muscles seem to fight each other and seriously, when did my stairs get so darn steep? I did legs yesterday today and I almost fell over doing my version of running down the stairs. I'm thinking it was the wind behind me, pushing me down. You know, the wind from the speed of my newly fit run down the stairs. Yes, that's what I'm goin' with here. It makes me feel better.

I'm thinking of getting back to my writing. I've had a few things sitting on the sidelines, waiting for me to add to them and I haven't. I felt uninspired and sad for so long it just wasn't worth the effort. Those things are still there and will get attended to (maybe even finished) but I've had this idea in my head for quite some time and its stirring around and around and is finally starting to boil. It may be put to paper if I can figure out the format. Then the question is, what do I do with it, if anything?

I guess the changes are more about what I want to do and not what I am doing. I'm hoping my motivation and determination will have a greater impact on me than the cloud I've had hanging over me, actually, completely engulfing me for the last two years. My parents wouldn't want me to feel that way anymore and honestly, I'm tired of feeling that way, too. It sort of just stopped. I still miss them, terribly. I still think about them more often than not and I still talk to them - but my life is continuing. They wouldn't want it to stop just because they're not here. I have to keep reminding myself of that but apparently it's working.

So I move forward. I tackle the stairs, even though I worry I'll fall down them (from that huge wind behind me due to my incredible speed). I pull out the Word document I've had sitting on my computer forever and see where it gets me. I'm hoping the change (no, not THAT change, geezus! I'm only 44) happens quickly. Because I'm ready.

Messages from the Other Side

I have always believed there was something 'after' this life. Some define it as Heaven, some use other terms. I'm a supporter of the Heaven theory myself. With that being said, an extension of my belief is that if there is something more than maybe there is some way to still maintain a connection with those who have passed.

If someone came to me and told me they'd had an experience with their great aunt coming to see them, I'd believe. I think it's possible but when it comes to things happening to me, I'm not always so sure.

I could make this post miles long and describe my experiences but I'm on a painting break and need to make this short and sweet. Instead, I'll give you some high-lights as background to my story.

As a child, I often saw a woman in white standing outside my bedroom doorway, just looking in and smiling. Years later I saw a picture of my father's mother, whom I'm named after and knew it was the same woman. I was never afraid and I never thought it was strange.

In my teens, my mom's mother passed and I experienced her presence in her house the day of her death. I felt her with me and watched as she closed a door. It freaked me out tremendously.

In the mid-90's an uncle I was very close to passed. I had a dream shortly thereafter where I told him I loved him and asked if he was an angel. I can still see that dream vividly in my mind. I firmly believe that was him.

Some time last year, I felt a man's presence in my house. I thought if I turned quickly enough, I would see an older man in an old military uniform. I did not mention this to my kids but my son saw him in my room several times and my daughter felt the same presence. They both told me separately. I don't know who it is but he's been back a few times recently.

I've experienced other things but these are the strongest.

After my mom passed, I did not feel her and it frustrated me. I tried and tried and begged for a sign. A very good friend told me it was most likely my walls and that when I was able to feel her, I would. Yet, I got nothing. And it ticked me off. I did have a friend who made a connection with her. She had a dream that my mom told her to tell me she was okay. I believed that but was still frustrated that she got the contact and not me. Months later I had a dream that my mom called me on a broken pay phone and said, "I've crossed over." Those would be words she would use.

When my dad died last May, I felt different. With my mom, I have not felt her at all. My dad however, seems to be here. I feel his energy. Not all of the time and not often but I do. Shortly after he passed I was half asleep at his house and I heard his voice, clear as day, say my name. Then nothing for some time. Recently I had a dream that I was walking with him and I asked if it was really him and he said yes. I then asked if he could hear me talk to him and he said, "Yes, I hear you." I woke up hoping and doubting that was a visit but I can't help but want it to have been.

I have always been close to my parents. I thought that when they passed, if they could, they would be around. But I wanted to feel them and I really haven't felt them at all. It's not as if I wanted them hanging out with me daily but I wanted to have a sense of them.

Last week two of those expensive energy smart bulbs blew in my kitchen. The next day the microwave sparked and stopped functioning. I was not happy. That week I also joined a website that deals with the metaphysical. I wanted to see if the things I've experienced could be real or just me hoping and wishing. I signed up for a medium to call me and do a reading. The odds were slim I'd get the call but I did. Last night.

As much of a cynic as I am, I had to admit to being freaked at the clarity of it all. He mentioned immediately things that he could have researched and discovered but then he mentioned something that very few people, including my husband knew. If it was my mom and dad, they would have known this but it was not in any way public knowledge.

And he told me that my father has been here messing with my electricity. He said not flicking lights on and off but blowing things up. Yeah, dad owes me a new microwave now. I was sort of floored at that too because he wouldn't have known about it, either.

The medium said two specific things that made me feel he was actually talking to my parents. Things they could not have researched with the limited information they had. How is that possible? I have to have faith that it is. That there really is something else out there and that my parents are still here with me, maybe not all of the time but still here. Goodness, I'll never be able to have sex again! :)

I'm still processing all of the information but I'll work through it. For those that don't believe, I have to say I was taking that route recently but with this, I can't help but think there's something more and maybe, just maybe if we open ourselves up to the possibility, we'll see. Maybe if we break down the walls of doubt, they're there, knocking for us to let them in.

Regaining Focus

The past few days haven't been easy. I've been cranky and frustrated about things that really shouldn't be that important but are.

My husband recently purchased a Harley - he loves it. It's a stress reliever for him and I'm thankful he's got it. He works hard. He's bearing a lot of weight on his shoulders and while they're strong and well defined, it can't be easy. He needs the stress relief. My biggest reliever of stress is music. It's always been important to me. It's always helped me through tough times, sad times, happy times, physically taxing times, most times. I find meaning in the words, motivation, relaxation, inspiration and many other 'ations' in the melody. Music relaxes me like the Harley relaxes my husband. So when my iTouch disappeared last week let's just say devastated doesn't describe my feeling.

If you know me, you know I'm fairly anal retentive. Most of my house is organized and I usually know where something is all of the time. My kids will ask me where their 'whatever' is and I can usually tell them the exact spot. With my iTouch, it has most always been in my hand throughout the day so I was never concerned with its location. The other night however, I couldn't sleep and walked through the house in a daze so I'm worried I put it somewhere and can't figure out where.

I've searched and upturned the house for days looking for the darn thing and it's nowhere. I could get another one, replace most of the music and was thankful to know that iTunes would replace the music I had yet to download to my pc but that wasn't helpful. It's still gone and it's still driving me crazy that I misplaced it when it's been so important to me for so long now.

My husband didn't understand it. Music to him is background noise. It has no meaning. I can see why he feels that way but I grew up listening to music with my father and because it was so important to him, it became important to me, too. It soothes me. It keeps me grounded...keeps me focused. It's my Harley, if you will.

I am currently using my husband's old iPhone, so at least I have my music, if not my iTouch. One day it will show up. I hope.

Knowing all of that now, it's important to understand I was one crank-ass b---- for the past few days. The lost music, the lost iTouch, the PMS, it all called upon the monster within and she showed herself but good! I thank God for my family and their ability to be patient and understanding. I was on the verge of tears for practically 48 hours. It was not pretty.

Through this whole frustration, I had a few friends who needed me. I'm always surprised at that. I often feel unstable and a total mess and it shocks me when others see me as strong and reliable. It's almost laughable to me at times. I feel like I'm crumbling to pieces yet others think I know what the heck I'm talking about. Maybe I do because they seem to keep coming around. That's got to mean something right?

My friends help me keep focused and grounded. I realize that the parents of a troubled child, who are struggling with how to handle things are so much more important then losing my iTouch and I feel silly for getting all worked up about it. I need that perspective at times. Mostly because I have to be reminded it's not all about me, all of the time. Sometimes I'd sure like it to be though. Hey, at least I'm honest, right?

Aging Gracefully...or Not.

Today (actually, yesterday if I'm being specific) at Starbucks a woman approached my husband and told him he looked like Richard Gere. As of late, this is happening a lot. Previously, he's been compared to Tom Cruise but since acquiring a head full of gray hair, that comparison has been few and far between. I'm okay with that. I've never been a fan of Cruise and have no desire to see my husband sliding around the house in his underwear. Some things are just better left to the mysteries of love.

I'm not a huge fan of Richard Gere either. Yes, I find him attractive but the whole gerbil rumor has always kept him low on my "Hawt Man Meter". Currently Alex O'Laughlin (The Backup Plan, Moonlight, some stupid hospital show and currently, Hawaii 5 0-gawd his he freaking hawt!) tops my list. Next up is Rob Lowe who just gets better with age. He's like a nice bottle of Merlot. And I don't even like wine.

As for the bottom of my list, well, I just don't know. There are just too many men and too little room on the list, I guess. Anyway, my point is that Richard Gere just simply isn't on it. It's okay though. I don't find it at all insulting that my husband is being compared to him. He's attractive, has great hair and a nice smile. I can see the resemblance.

My husband has a great mix of salt and pepper in his hair. It's as if some anal retentive colorist painstakingly frosted each and every strand individually to give it a textured, flowing look. Actually, it kind of pisses me off. I've got these nasty little gray hairs poking out all over my head at random and his flows like a freaking opera. If you ask me, it's just another reason to believe God is male. The man simply has great hair, no one can argue it. I spend hours blow drying, straightening, curling, scrunching, feathering, coloring, hi-lighting and analyzing my hair and my husband gets out of the shower, towel dries it, runs a dimes worth of gel through it with his fingers and is on to the next part of his day. (Reason number two in a long, long list of reasons Carolyn thinks God is male).

I'm not saying my husband is perfect because, though he might disagree, he's not. He's a little older now and gravity has started to catch up with his stomach just a bit. Not a lot but it's there, hiding under his shirts, daring to peek out ever so slightly. Thankfully for him, it's not obvious. I mean, when your face and hair shout Richard Gere to women walking by, who cares if you have a little extra in the middle, right? My middle's hit rock bottom. It's joined forces with my upper and lower and they've become one big blob. If God were female, I'm certain I'd be 5'10" and 110 lbs. Certain. He's male. I'm sure of it.

I confess to having a few lines around the eyes now and my cheeks don't seem to be as 'tight' as before. And yes, that can be said for both sets of cheeks but right now I'm talking about the ones falling just below my chin. I'm pretty sure I'm part Shar Pei. Just a tiny bit. My husband has wrinkles, too. He's got a forehead full of lines and when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in that sexy, "Come get me" sort of way. Mine bark for food.

God has taken an attractive young man, wrapped him up in a middle-aged man package and made him even yummier than before. He's aged him with grace and refinement. He's made him an almost 45 year old bottle of fine wine most women want to try, even if it gives them a headache (and trust me, he's good at that!) For me, he's taken an attractive woman, added hair growth in places hair is not meant to grow, taken hair away from places I'd like it to stay, dropped body parts unreasonable distances, added a 22 lb baby worth of extra 'stuff' and wrapped it up in a graying, wrinkling package with a lovely muffin top for good measure. In truth, with pre-menopause knocking on my door and menopause just around the corner, God is clearly turning me into...my father. So long estrogen, hello testosterone.

Thanks.

Most men age gracefully. Mine sure has. Women however, just get old. Proof positive God is male.

Just Another Day in the Life of Me...

Sometimes it seems my life is a never-ending road of traffic lights. First the light is green and I'm moving along, starting something new or simply heading down the road and then I come to a yellow light, telling me to proceed with caution. Next I'm either faced with a green light again, though leading me in a different direction or a red light, stopping me dead in my tracks. It's a constant start, stop, think, consider, re-evaluate and then proceed yet again, road I travel.

I'm not complaining. Life is what it is and I have many blessings in mine. I'm grateful and thankful for the people, places and things I'm lucky enough to enjoy and hold dear. What I'd like is a little consistency or maybe just a road with no traffic lights every once in a while but who wouldn't want that?

I have friends who travel their own roads, full of bumps and potholes and blocks. Roads with more red lights than green. I watch them struggle to navigate their drive, often without a GPS, sometimes falling into the ditch, only to crawl back out and start the it all over again. Some don't always get back to the drive. Instead they hop on a bus and get the hell out of town. I get that. There have been many times when I've wanted to pull off the road, jump out and run. But I don't. I keep on the road and while I may pull over to let someone else drive for a while, I'm still on the road. Still moving along. I simply keep pushing through the lights and remind myself it's all part of the experience. I'm not waiting for something to happen. I'm experiencing the process of it happening. The good and the bad. The yellow lights and the red ones, too.

I don't usually like to stop. I certainly can't stand to stop and then have to start again and with a lot in my life, that seems to be the process. Take working out. I do it. Something gets in the way. I get distracted. I stop. I start up again. Something gets in the way. I get distracted. I stop. I start up again. No, I don't like it but I keep doing it. It's part of the drive...part of the experience. And instead of constantly thinking about the red light or the road ending, instead I'm training myself to enjoy the ride.

Who Knew I had a Blog? Clearly Not Me!

"Wow," she says as she notices she's not written a thing in her blog for months. She says it to no one because she's home alone and is certain no one has even peeked at her blog in practically a lifetime.

"It doesn't matter," she says to the wind. "I'm going to write anyway and maybe someone, somewhere, suffering from lack of sleep at three o'clock in the morning will find my words and read them."


Actually, a friend of mine sent me an email...which I purposefully ignored...kindly suggesting I blog again. I ignored her because I had no excuse for not writing other than not having much to say.

Yes, that even shocked me.

She got the ball, which some consider my brain, rolling though, so here I sit on the couch, laptop on lap, pondering the days of my life.

So I write.

Writing has always been therapeutic for me and if there's ever been a time in my life that I might need therapy, now is probably it so hopefully this will help.

I have been working hard at getting back into the groove of life since my mom passed. I know that life is full of ups and downs, good days, bad days, trials and tribulations, parties and celebrations or whatever other words people choose to describe life. And I know all of those expressions like, "When the going gets tough, the tough get going" but sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming.

It took me about nine months to start to feel something similar to normal again after my mom died. Normal as newly defined by her passing I guess but normal. I started moving more. Sleeping better. Exercising. Eating better. Doing projects around the house. Interacting socially. I hadn't completely given up all of these things but I started to do them more and actually had interest in them. I felt as if I was picking myself up from the sucker punch of her death and moving on.

It felt good.

Then another sucker punch came at me again. See, that's what life does. There are good times and rough times and we're (hopefully) taught to be strong enough to handle it all and enjoy what we can. It's almost a cycle. A good thing happens and then a bad thing happens, etc. I get that. I've certainly experienced that. Unfortunately in my life, I learned that when something good has happened, look out because pretty soon, something bad is going to hit. So instead of blindly walking through my life unprepared for the possibility of the sucker punch, I've always remained cautiously optimistic and on-guard for the possibility of it. Some people call me a pessimist but I prefer the word realist.

I know that it's a cycle and I know things will get better but a pessimist doesn't view things that way. I'm often prepared for the worst but still hope for the best. At least that way, if the worst does happen, I'm ready.

I was ready for my mom to pass. I wasn't ready for what it would cause me to feel and that was brutal. But that second sucker punch was just as tough, probably even more so because I wanted more time before it struck.

My dad passed away unexpectedly, almost 11 months to the day after my mom died. Yes, he was sick and we knew his health was failing but I think we all tried to deny the reality of it all.

I got the call from my 'step mom' (I really hate that word but in legal terms, it's what she is, though I consider her so much more) and I didn't cry. I didn't really 'cry' for days. I sniffled after a few days but I was pretty numb. There's only so much emotion one can handle and I'd had a lot of it after losing my mom.

I promised myself I wouldn't make the same stupid decisions I did after my mom died. I'd still workout. I'd eat well. I'd been losing the weight I'd gained when she was sick and after her death and I didn't want to gain it all back. But of course, doing and thinking are two very different things and I failed to think about what I was doing as I shoved food in my mouth for emotional support. Back on came the weight and with that, the frustration it brings.

It's been almost four months since my dad died. I'm okay. I'm feeling pretty good and doing things again, not letting that particular sucker punch engulf me the way the other did. I can't. It's not healthy for me or anyone around me. I took my time to mourn him and I always will. I still get choked up thinking about him but I have my good days and my not so good days. Mostly I worry about my step mom. I imagine what I'm feeling is nothing compared to what she's feeling.

It's a whole new normal again now that both of my parents are gone. I was blessed to have them in my life for so long but no matter how long it is, it's never enough time.

Life continues to throw those sucker punches and I continue to push through them, get through the pain and pick myself back up. I think for me, it's a challenge, even if it's a frustrating one. I'm just hopeful that saying, "God only gives you what you can handle" is true and that I get a little break here for a bit. I'd like to be fully 'up' from the punch before I'm struck with another one. Hopefully that's not too much to ask. It isn't, is it?