I miss my mom

October ... a time for Fall, the smell of pumpkins, a cool breeze in my hair, the ending of my outdoor running season, the heart of back-to-school fun, Halloween costumes, too much candy and ... my mom's birthday (10/30). This will be the second year without my mom hear for her birthday. She's spending it with Jesus again. I don't know that she gets cake in Heaven or candles to blow out. I'm not even sure if the angels will grace her with song, though I'd imagine she has all she'd ever dream of in terms of celebration.

I've begged and pleaded and praised and bargained to try and get my mom back. I believe it's slowly starting to settle in that I'm not going to get to share anymore days with her here on Earth though. I cry, I get angry, then I cry again and ... it really goes on and on. I have an ornate amount of faith in God. I mean, I'm not an overly religious type, but I would most emphatically and confidently state that I do believe. And, with that, I want to believe that my messages can make it to Heaven. That mom knows how much I love her. That God knows I need her guidance from time to time and allows her to remain with me in more than just heart and memory, but also in spirit.

So, as I get ready for her 2nd birthday in Heaven, I found this poem appropriately fitting:

If Roses Grow In Heaven

If Roses grow in Heaven, Lord,
please pick a bunch for me, 
Place them in my Mother's arms
and tell her they're from me.

Tell her, I love her and I miss her,
and when she turns to smile, 
place a kiss upon her cheek 
and hold her for awhile.

Remembering her is easy, 
I do it every day, 
but there's an ache within my heart
that will never go away. 

Therapeutic journaling

Sometimes I my mind spins in circles. I think about the things I want to get done for the day. I think about the things that I know probably won't. And really ~ I just think a lot (probably a bit too much!). Today I am focusing on my love for reading and writing. When I was younger, I hated it. I lied to teachers saying that I completed reading assignments when I really didn't and I never would have dreamt of purchasing anything other than a magazine for leisure. I'm pretty certain that this passion did not ignite within me until graduate school. Once I found my niche in life, I was able to find books, articles, etc. that I genuinely enjoyed reading. I learned to love learning! It's funny how late in life I bloomed in that regard really.

Anyway, I recently took a content-area course called the Teaching of Writing. It was a workshop style class for educators and let me just say I left each day renewed and ambitious enough to teach everyone I knew how therapeutic writing can be. We began each day with a journal. Sometimes we shared ours with the class, sometimes we did not. It wasn't a requirement. One day I shared my thoughts and was moved to see that it brought others to tears. That was the pivotal moment that I realized writing held the answer to so many things. I can write about all of the things I wish I'd done differently in the past. I can write about all of the things that I still hope to do in the future. I can put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard more likely!) and get out all of the frustrations eating me up, share the happy thoughts that I have which I feel are too mundane for others to listen to, or I can write about things that eat me up because I feel misunderstood by the world. If I just take the time to write things down ... maybe even share some thoughts on this blog ... it not only holds the possibility to be therapeutic to me, but it can be therapeutic to someone else who finds themselves able to relate and realize that they aren't alone.

I'm excited to start sharing some journal-style posts. To give the world a closer look into the secret area between my heart and my mind .. the place where hurt lies in limbo, emotions overwhelm, frustrations seem endless and happiness feels powerful .. that to me sounds like a top of the to-do list necessity. :)

Here is the journal entry I mentioned above:


"Driving in I was thinking about what to write. Yesterday I wrote about something completely unplanned and thought that if today I were a little bit more prepared, I’d have so much more to say. With the quiet that the classroom offered during  our journal writing time, 15 minutes of uninterrupted time seemed like such a great opportunity to get a lot off of my mind. I'd never dream of getting quiet like that around the house! ... maybe if I locked the bathroom door and pretended to be in the shower or something though! No such luck on really nailing down a topic for this morning though. I thought of everything from my what I'll make for dinner tonight to the bills I need to hop online and pay - all the way to the bountiful things in my life for which I had reason to smile. But I was continuously distracted by my drive ~ in a very literal sense ~ in that nothing was really sinking in. So, when I say drive in the literal sense, I’m specifically referring to me, sitting in the driver’s seat of my van (mommy mobile as me and my kids call it), grasping the steering wheel. I think of the numerous places I’ve gone in that van and how even though its mechanics have frequently let me down, the sense of stability its framework has offered, never fails. I can recall riding passenger with a smile on my face and wind in my hair as my husband drove us to Sea Isle for a family vacation. I can recall driving my children to school – sometimes they’d want to go, sometimes they wouldn’t – and frequently checking on their safety in the rearview mirror. Then, there was the time we ran out of gas and I blamed that poor van. Nonetheless, me and the kids sat in the back of it, sheltered from the weather, coloring until AAA got there. The framework of the van kept us safe. It all reminds me of a time too recent ago when I got into my van, grasped the steering and drove to visit my mom. Geez, I can remember before driving to visit her with the family in tow. She was usually at her house watching tv. In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t been in such a rush to get back into my van those days and drive away. But … there was so much to get done I guess, right? At least there were times when I drove the van to meet mom and dad at a local restaurant. Every year on my birthday they'd take me out to eat. Every year they'd tell me I could pick the place, but mom would hate my selection and always override it!. There were many times that I drove to visit her in the hospital. That ride seemed to happen again and again. My mom got sick a lot. One day though, I remember getting into the van and visiting her in the hospital for what turned out to be the last time. I never could’ve predicted that now, when I hop in the van to go visit her ... tell her what's on my mind, bring her some fresh flowers, or just hang for a little .. that  I'd take a different route to get to her that what I was so accustomed to. Now, I drive to visit my mom at the cemetery. I carefully pick the flowers I'll bring her each time thinking to myself, "what would mom like?" I never get to see the reaction on her face though. I don't get to see a smile to reassure me how much my careful selection was worth the time put in because I put them in a vase at her marker. I no longer can put them in her hands. When I take that new route to visit mom now, I drive down the very same highway I take to get to this class. Maybe that's why I can't focus on anything. My mind is too full. I miss my mom. She really is the framework for my life. Kinda reminds me of my van really. The mechanics of our relationship were tethered here and there. But, just like the van has a framework of steel that never lets me down, my mom had a heart of gold that gave and gave and gave, making sure no matter how bad life got for me, I'd know I wasn't alone."

Why does misery love company so much?

I must admit something.

Have you ever felt irritable while driving in traffic, absolutely positive that cars are going 1/2 of the speed limit simply because you've got someplace to be at a certain time? Yup, me too!! But ... I can't deny that every once in awhile, when I put my turn signal on hoping to strategically skip over to the lane I swear is moving at least 5 MPH faster and someone actually signals me over and lets me in, their kindness lessens my irritability a bit. That lessened irritability is just as much a butterfly effect as is the increased bitchiness I would develop if someone didn't want to let me switch lanes.

I think it's true that aggression breeds aggression and that a contagious is smile. So, maybe we get slowed in traffic every once in a while so that we have the opportunity to remember how much of an impact we can have on someone else. Mean people are everywhere. They are at the mall, on the road, at the bank, everywhere really - they are everywhere! So, stop the cycle: mean people suck, just be nice!!

The Golden Rule

Practice what you preach by treating people as you would want to be treated!

I just started this blog and I'm trying to keep my optimism shining through without too much ranting. But, let me mention the experience I just had at the gym! To prove the relevance of my butterfly effect theory, this depicts how the simplest of occurrences can ripple one's mood (ok, here it is my mood!).

I was psyched to be at kickboxing again since some prior commitments didn't allow for me to make the days/times it was offered lately. I got there early (as is the unwritten rule to claim a "good spot!"), put my keys, water bottle, cell phone and sunglasses far off to the side (like everyone does) of the floor and waited for class to begin. I twiddled my hair a bit, played with my shoelace, said hi to a few familiar faces and then smiled as soon as the music started. The warm-up reminded me how much I missed being here. Running so regularly is fun and stress-relieving, but this fast-paced class set to motivating music always helps to break up the monotony. 

So about 20 minutes into a 60 minute class, Miss "I'm wearing clothes too tight for my body type and think my muffin top is cute" decides she is going to strut into class and sneak into the 2 small feet of space separating me from the row of people in front of me without a word. Had she not ever heard of respecting the BUBBLE!?!? I despite rudeness and at this moment, this lady was epitomizing it. She had the nerve to not just sneak into my spot, but to start flailing her arms around doing roundhouse/side kicks comparable to that of a donkey so much so that I was nudged far from my original location!! I then was left with not only an "ehh spot," but no wiggle room! How does that happen? I was there early, I followed the "rules" and then I allowed myself to get shoved to the side. Ugh, I hate when I don't have the nerve to speak up. I didn't wanna make an issue of it though, figured that would've made me look like as much of a jerk as she did. So, I figured I'd come home and contribute to my brand new blog! 

Look, I'm over it now. Writing is so therapeutic! This lady reminded me the importance of treating people how I'd like to be treated myself. I know I can't stand when people behave pretentiously, so I sure don't' wanna be THAT girl who acts hypocritically. 

Empathy for the Unknown

I often find myself feeling empathetic for strangers.

When something tragic happens to a family member, a friend, a co-worker or anyone that we know personally, it is typical to feel sadness. And, likewise, when something wonderful happens to a family member, a friend, a co-worker or anyone that we know personally, it is typical to feel happiness. But, take a moment to think about how the tragedies and wondrous experiences of strangers can (and should) effect how we feel.

Today, while reading my local newspaper online, it seemed that there was a lot of hardship, adversity and negativity in the world. It inflicted feelings of anger and shock - why is the world the way it is? It also made me feel quite heavyhearted. I read about domestic disputes, attempted murders, accidental child fatalities, vehicle crashes, slumlord landlords and the unprecedented collapse of a building. I find that tragedies such as these, despite their infliction being upon people I've never met and likely will never know, caused me to think and feel in very powerful ways.

Here's my take on the hierarchal impact of empathy for the unknown:

• When we're children, the bad that happens to others is bad because we are told it is. We may be told this by a parent, a teacher or a family member. We react how we are told to and/or how it is modeled for us. At this tender age though, the sad feelings we get from bad experiences such as losing our favorite toy can often have the same effect on us as a crying best friend who just lost their beloved family pet. To "feel" for strangers is done solely through adult prompting. 
• When we are teens, we understand the different layers of bad. We dislike hearing of when negative things happen to others. The empathy instilled within us as children begins to show. But, we are at times so much more concerned and consumed with ourselves that the depth of bad inflicted on someone else may not deeply resonate with us. This is the age of societally-embraced self-focusness and with that, to "feel" for strangers is, albeit done, potentially short-liveed.
• Once we reach adulthood, our empathy truly evolves into what we allow it to. We look at others' tragedies and can imagine how it would make us feel if it were to happen to us. We realize that people are more than just people - they are someone's mother, someone's son, someone's spouse, etc. And, while our ability to "feel" sorry for them and to want to help them or even simply to prevent such travesty can be genuine, people grow to become empathetic for others, especially the unknown, on widely distributed levels. No two people will likely empathize exactly alike. 

What is your level ... of empathy for the unknown? Do you take things that occur to people throughout the world with a grain of salt? Do you allow them to effect the choices you make? For me, I'd like to think that the feelings of anger, shock, heavyheartedness and confusion that I felt reading my local newspaper this morning can be used today as empowerment towards creating for a better tomorrow. I believe that whether the complete strangers I see at the store, driving in the car next to me, walking down my street or being referenced in the paper are deserving of being acknowledged, at minimum, as being someone's loved one. And, if I feel by taking the extra minute to allow my mind to process that, to think about the worth of a complete stranger, my optimism, my outlook, my smile, my ear may be the butterfly effect that in turn enables a stranger's frown to turn start to turn upside down. 

And so it begins!

Welcome to the Blue Butterfly Effects blog! 

I've enjoyed reading various blogs over the years and have decided to finally take the plunge by creating my own. Here you can read about my candidly worded "ah-ha" moments, blue butterfly sightings, random thoughts, ideations and everything in between. Be sure to sign up to follow me via e-mail, Facebook or Twitter so you'll never miss a new post!