Life

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Time to do it all over again

I sink down into the hot water and close my eyes. It burns my skin slightly and I focus on the sensation spreading through my body.  My heart begins to race and beads of sweat form on my face.

It becomes too much, and I’m forced to pull my hands, feet and head out of the water. The cold air causes the now exposed skin to cool and feel numb. I keep my eyes closed enjoying the extremities of temperature on my body.

Eventually the feelings cease as the water becomes comfortable. I wash my now slightly reddened skin and sink down peacefully until I start to wrinkle. Then I steady myself for the jolt of cold as I plunge out of the warmth into the freezing room.

Life is so tremendously wavering. The polarity of just an hour can sometimes make me feel like my limbs are being torn in opposite directions. The unpredictability can be exciting and pleasant, but often it leaves me feeling battered.

I need little constants to keep it all tied together. The rhythm of my day tethers me to reality and prevents another slip down the rabbit hole of depression. I’m like a child who will forgo sleep and eat nothing but sugar when given complete freedom. I need structure.

This brings me to Project 365. Last year on this exact day, I decided to try this little photo experiment. I charged myself with taking a picture of something I was thankful for every day for the entire year.

Last night I posted my final picture.

newyears

I did it. Every day of 2014, I took at least one picture of my life and posted it to Instagram and Facebook. I didn’t miss a single day, even when sick, stressed, traveling, my phone died or I was drunk. Nothing stopped me from my daily picture.

This might not seem like a huge deal, but it is to me. What started as a way to shift my focus to the blessings around me, morphed into something much bigger than that. It became my end of day routine and a way to chronicle my life. It’s my tether.

All month I have been pondering if I will do it again. Are people sick of seeing my daily photos? Will they roll their eyes and think I’m being self-centered? Bragging?

Yet as I look back on my year in photos today, I am suddenly unconcerned with what others think.

project365

It’s time to do it all over.

Life continues on, and this is one way I make sense of it all.

No, I am not a great photographer. It is true that there are more pictures of alcohol, clouds and books than I would have ever guessed. It’s true that I am a grown woman who actually thinks selfies are fun, and that I find my kids more darling than just about anything else in the world.

It’s also true, that none of that matters. That everyone’s life is worth chronicling in anyway they find meaning and peace. There is nothing wrong with doing what makes you feel happy and will keep you marching along.

If you are interested, my Instagram is bridgettetales. Inspired to join in the fun? Please send me a request to follow you, as I’d love to see what you come up with.

Happy New Year!

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Candle in my oatmeal and other such things

Stumbling from my bedroom in a half-asleep daze I made my morning rounds.

“Good morning,” I say to my daughter. Her room, which was clean when she went to bed last night, is covered in doll clothes. One doll is dressed fancy and sipping tea, while another has pajamas on and is propped up receiving medicine.

“Good morning,” she responds without looking up. “Eva’s sick. I’m doing all I can for her.”

“OK. Headed into the shower,” I mumble back.

“Good morning,” I say to my son. All I can see of him is the back of his head peeking up slightly under the covers. He is on his tummy reading. I see him raise his finger up in the air for me to wait, a gesture I recognize well.

“Just needed to finish that paragraph,” he says a moment later without looking up at all.

“Just saying good morning,” I say. “Headed to the shower.”

“Good morning,” he says and promptly begins reading again.

As I stood in the shower, I started belting out the Talking Heads song, “Once in a Lifetime.”

“Letting the days go by
Let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by
Water flowing underground”

Some days I honestly have no idea how I got where I am. I can retrace the steps and go over the facts, but the reality of my life is strange to me.

* I have been married for almost 15 years and our dating anniversary of 20 years is this summer.

* My children are not babies.

* Depression has been my cloak and shield and I’m having trouble letting it go.

* My parents are getting older.

* I still feel like a teenager who doesn’t understand the world and how I fit in it.

* Today marks the one year anniversary of my blog.

All of these truths have different feelings attached that are mixed-up and hard to separate or express thoroughly.

I was challenged this week to come up with a 30 item Bucket list. Should be an easy thing to do, but I found it painful and nearly impossible. Why?

I have stopped dreaming.

It is scary to admit that I want things because then I have to work hard to make them happen.

I might even fail.

Just re-read my very first blog entry and here is how it ended:

“She put it out there. Would people read? Would they care? Would they even notice?
It involved a bravery that she didn’t know if she had. She took a deep breath and just went for it.”

I remember being so scared to write anything. Worried people would find me self-centered, stupid or just boring. As scary as it was, I have been grateful daily that I did it.

My blog is still so tiny compared with the size of others. A baby really. But it’s my baby. I birthed it and I’ve been feeding it and nurturing it for an entire year. Amazing things have happened because of it.

* I have had an outlet for working out some major issues that otherwise might have stayed dormant and hidden.

* People have reached out to me and shared their truths. I’ve inspired a few people to start following their dreams, which I find unbelievably amazing.

* I was published on Mamalode and might even get a little check from that.

* I’ve been featured on Cap City Moms and I’m looking forward to helping that website continue to grow and be a positive place for woman to tell their stories. Plus, I’m crazy for the founder of the website. Seriously, Jill is all kinds of awesome.

* Just got an e-mail inviting me to write for a non-profit organization that promotes empowering women to follow their dreams.

So, things are happening and I’m excited/terrified/nervous/thrilled/proud and many other things. I’m a mixed up jumble of nerves and it’s not a bad place to be.

Nothing good happens from staying stuck.

So, I’m saying Happy BlogBirthDay to myself in a matter that seems fitting.

oatmeal

Now, it’s about to get real sappy (come on…it’s my BlogBirthDay, so I get to do what I want!)

For everyone that has read Bridgette Tales, even once, thank you a million times over.

You have no idea how much it means to me when you read, comment or share my blog. It is confirmation that I am doing something worthwhile and that people are touched, entertained, inspired or moved in some way. It has helped me in ways I can’t even begin to express.

Sending you all love from my heart to yours.

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Don’t you dare take that mask off

maskEven from ten people behind in the line, I could see her pain. It was all over her. I could see the struggle in her body. She had that tired, forced smile. Her shoulders were slumped and her voice was meek.

When it was our turn to get onto the ride, she measured my girl for height, as she had the previous hundreds of kids that day. “Go ahead.”

I looked her in the eyes and put my hand on her shoulder. “It will be OK,” I said.

“Will it?” she said and looked at me with such intensity I almost cried. The pain was all over her face. Her mask was off.

“It will,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said. “It has to.”

She straightened up a bit and the mask returned. We boarded the swings and my sweet darling and I laughed and laughed as we went around. We kicked our feet in the air and allowed ourselves to be swept up into the joy and feeling of flying.

When we got off the ride, I locked eyes with her again and she smiled. I don’t know her or her story, but I can recognize pain.

Lately I have been acutely aware of the immense sorrow and pain in the world. It doesn’t even have to be something big, but sometimes it can feel like your world is closing in.

We all walk around carrying these things. We have to put forth our fake faces and walk about our day like nothing is wrong. We order coffee. Pump our gas. Buy our groceries. Make small talk. Play with our kids at the park. Fake a smile. Tuck our kids into bed and tell them everything is OK.

We might be dying to scream “I’m in freakin pain here!” But we don’t. It’s not the right time. Never.

I know this isn’t an original thought our idea, but I’ve just been struck hard lately by this reality of life. So much is going on all around us, yet we can’t just walk around with our stories hanging out. We can’t let our sadness or anger effect our daily lives. Shit has to get done.

So, we put on our masks. We bottle it up and push it down for the greater good. If we are lucky we have a friend or spouse we can share our real selves with, but often the time isn’t right. We can’t fall apart now. Not now. The time isn’t now. It’s NEVER now.

That same day at the amusement park, Lola kept riding a small boat ride over and over. We were the only ones in the line and I said to the teenage girl working the ride, “saying that safety speech over and over must get old.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, “it’s a good job for someone my age.”

We talked for about five minutes more as Lola rode the ride a few more times. I was floored by this girl’s story and the candor and poise with which she shared it. She had a baby at 15. She was 16 now. The job had no medical, but she had a plan. She smiled the entire time. Beaming as she told me about her beautiful girl and her plans to be a nurse someday and be a role model for her daughter. I have no doubts that will happen. It has to.

As I was about to walk away she said, “No one has ever asked about my life before. Thanks for talking to me. It felt good to talk to someone.”

Stories. Stories. Stories.

I wish I could take a day and just walk around and ask people their stories. Tell me something. No. Tell me something real. Take off the mask for a minute. I want to see you. The real you.

I realize that we are designed to push emotions aside and function. We cannot and should not walk around with all our stuff hanging out. Gross. But I love stories and I love people.

So I will step out into the world like I do everyday, with my mask on. I will smile at people and make small talk. I will chase my kids around and fill our day with errands and, if lucky, see a friend or two.

If I know you, please know that I’m happy to see you anyway you need to be – mask on or off. I promise to never try to pry off your mask. I know you need it. Just know that I like what’s underneath too and it’s OK to share it with me.