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Why So Sorry?

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About a month ago, I was walking into a business. I pushed the door open, and another woman was exiting. We almost collided, but we did not. We each smiled and she quickly said “I’m sorry”. I said “no worries” and our moment was over. I began thinking about that exchange after my business was done, and I realized that had she not apologized, I would have. But why?  We didn’t collide. We simply walked in and out of a building at the same time. It was her first instinct and would have been mine as well.

But what if we could change that? What if I had said “oh, what a beautiful blouse!” or “your hair color is amazing!” instead of saying we are sorry for every damn thing?

What if we stopped BEING so damn sorry and put all that energy towards being happy?

How would it change our day? What kind of eventual global impact would it have?

Kindness, not apology. And I’m talking about sincere compliments. I’m willing to bet you can come up with something to say to strangers. What’s the risk, really?

I’m at a point where I’m ready. I’m ready to create a ripple effect of happiness, of kindness. I’m more than ready to stop apologizing for every damn thing.

Don’t get me wrong. If you NEED to apologize for something, by all means, do it. I’m addressing the empty apologies. Would you join me? Can you come back in a week or a month and tell me if anything changed in your world?

The Countdown Begins

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Every year I count down to my birthday. I mark each day in some way… this year I’m turning 45, so I will count down for 45 days. Today is day 1. (By the way, this means there are only 40 days til Christmas).

This year I plan to post gratitudes publicly every day, because I feel that gratitude is important, especially in trying times. I will also write every day.  I’ve been seeking some freelance gigs, and I will be working on my novel as well.

The hope is to reach my birthday as the best possible me that I can be. I think this is a good start. So, today I’m diving in. I will try to blog more frequently but a lot of my writing will be behind the scenes until the big unveilings.

I am looking forward to my 45th year. I am looking forward to love, laughter, adventures, friends, and family. I am looking forward to joy, in all the forms it comes.

Ironing as a Spiritual Practice

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Thoughts After a Suicide

20160702_144926It’s almost like receiving the news that Robert committed suicide changed me in some way… on a chemical level. Things that were bugging me before suddenly don’t matter. And things that have fallen aside are now in focus. I realized that even though I have been depressed, nothing is worth that.  A new perspective has been gained.

I’ve gone through some of the stages of grief. You’d be safe to say I’ve been pissed. So angry at him for wiping that slate clean. Sure, no more pain, but also no more joy, no laughter, no chance of ever feeling peaceful or blissful again. Not only that, but he is leaving a community behind. Loved ones. Friends. Coworkers. All to wonder why. I have anger.

I’m not thankful in any way that he is gone. I never will be. However, I am thankful for my lessons, and I’m sure they are just beginning. Regret sucks and I do wonder if I should have been in touch better. He will never know all the lessons learned from him. He will simply never know.

In a perfect world, people would not kill themselves. Well, in a perfect world, no one would be depressed, desperate, or sad enough to consider it.

But it’s not a perfect world and I’m looking at you. Do you know someone who is depressed? Are you that person? Have you heard them talk about suicide or thought about it yourself?  Take out a piece of paper and write the name of 1-5 people on it that you can reach out to. Lifelines, use them. Let them know what you are going through. Talk it out, seek help, and promise yourself that you will always allow yourself the chance of feeling joy tomorrow.

When you are drowning is not the time. Now is the time. And if you are drowning now? Reach out. I’m here, of course. And there are others in your life that expect a tomorrow from you. Talk to them.

 

Suicide is Never Painless

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I have nothing poetic to say. My heart has been broken open again. I received word Friday evening that my ex husband had committed suicide. Not my boys’ dad, but my 2nd husband.

I have been hovering around the depression spectrum for weeks now, as you know. My world has been grey, I have been surrounded by good friends, in a great job, and sad to the core.

I haven’t spoken to my ex husband in a year, and before that it was longer. We were not what each other needed, but we didn’t have animosity. I always wished him well.

My heart breaks knowing he saw no other choice. My heart breaks for those who loved him. My heart breaks for the tomorrows he will never see. My heart breaks, my heart breaks, my heart breaks.

One thing I know from where I stand… suicide is never painless.

Another Day

 

20150728_061255There was an incident a month or so ago… when all hell broke loose between two of my sons. The things that happened that day changed me. I won’t share details out of love and respect for their privacy. Since then, though, I’ve not had more than a couple “good” days in a row. By good, I mean days that I don’t cry. Days that I don’t sit around depressed. Days that I feel like I am happy.

Today was a not so good day, and oddly enough I wasn’t sitting around depressed.  I was bubbling inside with a rage, all day at work. It didn’t seem to have a source, I mean, nothing happened to make me angry. Suppressing it has exhausted me. And now, as I sit at home, I realize it’s just a stage of grief. I mourn all that has happened. And especially how it has affected my relationships with my sons. I am sad to the core, and I know all too well that you can’t rush grief.

Hoping tomorrow is a good day. And that soon I can have three in a row. Or more.

The State of the Robyn

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Last I blogged, I had been dealing with grief.  I’m still sad when I think of Elliot being gone.  In addition to that, my sons have been finding their way out into the world. Stretching their wings. Asserting themselves. Cutting ties. I know that at some point their independence won’t guarantee my exclusion, but for now, it is what it is.

My brain knows that this is an important stage of their development. But my heart hurts. I’ve honestly not cried this much in my entire life. I am, after all, the girl who didn’t cry for days when her mom died. I struggle with how much to share. But you know what? I’m moving towards transparency. My shoulders are tight, I pull my upper ribs out in my back. What do I gain from holding it all in?

My goal is to blog at least every other day, and we will see how that goes. I feel like I’m getting… old… and insignificant. I had dinner with my ex in laws the other day. I can relate to so much they are going through. They have great grandchildren and others on the way… yet they are forgotten. I feel that. Yet at the same time, I know deep down that just as much as this is my children’s time to stretch their wings… it is mine as well.

It’s time to paint my heart out, to write my dreams, to spread my wings and fly.

 

Finding My Way

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Lately I’ve been floundering.  There’s been a lot of shit going on.  I know,  I’ve never used that sort of language on here…  or on social media.  But guess what?  I do in real life and I’m too tired to censor.

Anyway,  issues with my adult children,  depression,  overwhelm,  my cousin died.

Holy shit.  My cousin died.  The Earth turned on its axis and I cannot believe that Elliott is no longer here.  I don’t even know what to do with that knowledge. The grief rolls through.  For Elliot’s sister,  my whole heart is with her.  For their parents.

Suddenly I found myself grieving not only Elliot but also family shit from two years ago. And my dad.  And my siblings who are still here but have lost their way.

And I became a bundle of grief. Usually quite reserved, suddenly I couldn’t stop crying.

I’ve been journaling and working through.  The house is temporarily empty and that’s helpful.  I can be me. Whoever that may be.

On the Mend

A few Photos from My DadSo I had been feeling grey. You know, that’s sugarcoating things. I had been depressed, and had fallen to an all time low. The depression stuck with me, no matter what I did, far longer than it ever had before.  Depression is a relentless bitch. Shortly after my last post I started coming out of it, only to plunge in again. Unfortunately, my love and my best friend got the brunt of it. And fortunately for me, they rode it out.

I’ve been doing some fitness challenges, and staying busy at work, and honestly most of the time I feel like I’m just sleepwalking through my days, but it’s better than feeling like I just wanted to burn everything down in my life. My next challenge will be to figure that out… how to stop sleepwalking. But for now, I’m glad that I’m not depressed.

Grey Days

ChangesToday is a difficult day. I haven’t been sleeping well, and last night I had nightmares about personal insecurities and I had a meltdown… on my love. Not a good day at all. I have been on antidepressants before and they just leave me blah. So that’s not a route I care to go down. Pondering therapy today. To what end? I’m just so scrambled. And feeling more lost than before. I need to regroup and I need to figure out how before I show my ass to anyone else.