Electric Blue Eyeliner

I made a deal with myself last week that if I could eat clean Monday through Friday, I would buy myself Urban Decay’s Deviant eyeliner. I could barely contain myself as I ran into Ulta and straight for the Urban Decay display. This stuff is electric blue with just the right hint of glitter, and I really want to just color my entire body with it or inject it directly into my veins. I am so in love with this eyeliner right now. My sweetie says I’m only a frayed jean skirt and can of hairspray away from 1987.

That’s okay with me; I kind of liked that year.

Just Around the Bend

I was so impressed by my last post that I shared it with my grandmother who immediately said, “Just remember to hold on to that faith when bad things happen.” That was fair enough, and I’ve been through enough rough moments in my life to know there’s always something waiting around the bend with the potential to shake my core.

Little did I know just how quickly it would rear its ugly head. A few years ago I first noticed a weird little scar on my back. I have no recollection of how I got it. It just suddenly was there. The only spot on my very red, sunburned back. I never thought much of it until I went to the dermatologist a few weeks ago.

Names have an interesting way of taking over. Until the doctor spoke the word, I didn’t think of the spot as anything more than an entity named Bob or Herman or Frankie with a made up a story about how we met up during our time in the Peace Corp in Bolivia. No such luck for me.

It turns out that my weird little scar is actually vitiligo. This just means that I’m losing skin pigment in parts of my body. You can go ahead and breathe now if you thought I was about to share something life-threatening. This isn’t fatal, but it is crushing to my fragile sense of self, especially when I noticed some white spots on my arm. And hand. And the bottom of my illiopsoas.

So please forgive me for my lack of presence online for the last week. My mind has been completely occupied with the pounding sounds of , “VITILIGO! VITILIGO! VITILIGO!” This is accompanied by obsessive images of patchwork skin, questions about whether or not I can ever show my face in the public again, and a worry or two thousand that my husband won’t think I’m just as beautiful as I am now.

In between these crazy moments, I’ve journaled. I’ve prayed. I’ve screamed to God. I’ve cried until my chest ached. I’ve completely switched to a gluten-free diet and put myself on a daily regimine consisting of a butt-load of vitamins and mini yoga sessions. Vitiligo appears to be an autoimmune disease, so I’m pulling out everything in my arsenal to build my immune system. There is always the chance these “reverse freckles” will re-pigment.

Just around the bend.

My heart aches.

My faith is still unshaken.

Just Because

I just finished writing one of those off the top of my head emails to a friend about choices and consequences. My own words have me thinking now.

Just because you’re in the middle of a very different situation than what you based your decision on doesn’t change your original decision.

This haunts me. How many times have I made a choice only to have the situation change or morph into something I never expected? Or berated myself for not being omniscient enough to see the future? Or let someone else make me feel scatterbrained or fickle when I wanted to back out of something I clearly didn’t want in the first place?

The sad truth is far too many times.

We make choices based on the information before us. Sometimes it’s factual. Sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it changes when someone else changes their mind. But that still doesn’t change the truth alive in me. That doesn’t change the drive I feel in my spirit or the passions in my soul.

Learning to see myself…to accept myself…has been a freeing process. As I unearth the layers of my being, I’m finding the core on which I stand. And you know what? It’s not exactly made of the shifting sand I’ve felt on the surface.

Who would have thought?

World Domination Just Might Be in My Future

My sister and I hosted a baby shower for our sister-in-law today. It was one of those deals that dominated our daily drive-home-from-work-calls for the last 6 weeks. Then we scratched all our plans last week and ended up sprint shopping this morning and were still putting the finishing touches on everything as the first guests arrived.

 

The shower was beautiful, and we all had a great time decorating the pages for the baby book, chillin’ with some Jack Johnson, and munching on the most amazing rolls my mouth has ever tasted. My brilliant idea for the day was something I call the “paciflower”. I put these together last night, and we used them as center pieces for the tables.

 

Aren’t they adorable?

 

I’m totally exhausted now since I’ve been up since 5:30 and have driven a total of 6 hours today and had to drive over more bridges than I care to count. Last summer I developed a bridge phobia. My heart pounds as I go over any bridge. My mind races with thoughts like, “Will I have enough time to roll down the window if the car goes over the edge?” or “Which shore will be the easiest to swim to?”

That’s no joke, even though EVERYONE around me laughs when they hear about this.

I discovered this afternoon that my brother’s house is only 2 1/2 hours away from mine if I take I-275. This means driving over the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. And yes, my heart pounded at the mere thought of crossing Tampa Bay, but I did it. Sweaty palms and all.

 

The picture of the bridge is a bit fuzzy because I took while driving. Yep, this bridge-a-phobic basket case took pictures while DRIVING across a bridge that replaced one that collapsed 30 years ago.

 

Who knows what I’ll conquer next. Maybe finally getting a handle on the growing pile of junk-mail-to-shred?

No Gift Receipts

A few years ago I discovered Burberry Brit on the counter at Dillards. I was instantly in love with the woody scent, but for some reason, I didn’t buy it. I’ve thought about it since then, but by the time I actually wanted to buy it for my sweetie, I couldn’t remember the name.

I finally bought it this weekend and couldn’t contain my enthusiasm when I asked my dear sweet manly husband to close his eyes and hold out his hands. He rolled them at me and smirked. That reaction shot flames out my ears and I waved him off with a, “I don’t even want to deal with you right now.”

Moments later I was apologizing for snapping and embarrassing him. I gave him the cologne. He immediately said something about how he much he wouldn’t get a chance to wear it, and it was all over.

He licked his wounds. I was deflated.

The next night, I crawled into bed and leaned over to kiss him goodnight. I couldn’t help but notice the scent of cologne along the base of his neck. Nor could I miss the smile that stretched across his face. Sure enough, it was the perfect scent for him.

And in that moment I felt like the queen of the world.

Wandering

Every woman should have at least one pair of entirely impractical shoes. I don’t care if you only put them on to go to the bathroom. They should be there in your closet to remind you of your dress-up roots. (We all have them buried somewhere within us; it’s part of the female DNA.)

I bought another pair of impractical shoes today. They are fushia. Stiletto sandals. (Not too tall.) I’m in love with them. I found them in a small shoe store filled with all sorts of unpronounciable Brazilian brand names. I’ve only worn them to the bathroom so far.

My purchase today got me thinking about my wandering roots. I’m not much of a shopper because I equate shopping with hunting. There’s a purpose in mind, and purpose doesn’t usually bring me the refuge from the world that I crave.

Wandering, on the other hand, has no purpose. There’s no time frame. I’m not obligated to load plastic bags in my car.

I wander more than I realized. Sometimes I hop in the car and drive without regard for the cost of gas. Other times I just walk out the front door and pace in winding circles around my property or on the school campus or in a strange new place.

I’ve wandered alone on foot through the streets of Washington, D.C. and Cancun and a small town called Hubbard. I’ve wandered in silence with friends and acquaintances through Dallas and Vegas and Nashville. I’ve paced beaches in Melbourne and Sarasota and Nassau. My first cruise was nothing more than 3 days of me wandering all through the ship at all hours of the day.

Then there’s the wandering I do in my head. Through books. Through the internet. Through the endless array of puzzles and stories and rabbit holes that bounce through my mind in the course of a day.

I like it that way. It’s this wandering streak within me that leads me to the most fascinating places. It’s funny how you start to recognize the pieces that make up who you are. I’ve been a wanderer for as long as I can remember, but only lately have I come to see just how much a piece of me this is.

 Sometimes I get a great pair of shoes out of it.

Aching

I’ve had one of “those” days when I was seriously tempted to go back to bed at 11:30 and not wake up until the sunrise tomorrow morning. Something within me was just a little of kilter. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t even realize it was there until I snapped at my husband while he was home for lunch. He gave me one of those, “I’m really glad we don’t have a gun in the house” looks as he went back to work.

I washed dishes. I cried. Loudly. And dripped tears in the dish water. The dogs and I went out the front porch and sat in the breeze. I cried. Longer. Louder. Harder. I prayed. I’m a little ashamed of some of what came out of my mouth, but I believe that God understands better than anyone both my heart and my humanity. When my tears traded themselves for a pounding headache, we went back inside.

A few hours later I finally realized what was wrong. Someone in my family is giving birth today. I go through this anytime a baby is born to my family or friends. It’s the ache of my soul crying out today. My brother and I had this conversation not long ago, and I tried explaining to him the conflicting feelings at work within me.

Wanting a baby is a desire unlike anything else. There is the desire itself which is overwhelming and sometimes physically painful. Then there is the anger that inevitably wells up when you hear about a pregnant teenager or a pregnant woman who doesn’t want the baby. Add to that the guilt you feel for being angry and the shame you feel for not being a bigger person. And nothing is worse than hearing a pregnant woman complain about being pregnant! On top of this, there is always someone waiting in the wings to berate you for not being happy enough for another person. Believe it or not, I am happy for others, but that happiness doesn’t negate my own pain or make my joy any less genuine.

It’s not any easier on pregnant women. Everyone around me knows how much I want a baby, so they all tip-toe around the subject, afraid to hurt my feelings. But you know what? My feelings are already hurt, and someone else’s joy isn’t going to do a thing to change them or hurt them even more. I’m going to cry. I’m going to be angry. I’m going to cringe as I buy onesies and wipes and diapers for the shower. I’m probably going to crochet a blanket and dream of the colors I want in my own nursery some day.

That’s just the way life works. The pain and the joy mix together in the most unlikely and inconvenient moments. It sucks right now, but I will face tomorrow bravely. And each day after that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last few months, it’s that God has His hand on my life. He is directing me even when I don’t understand what is going on.

I certainly don’t get it today, but I am excited about meeting the newest family member.

My Collection

Some people collect coins. Others collect books. I know a few people who collect ex-spouses. Apparently, I collect exercise DVDs. I have enough DVDs to do a different workout each day for six weeks. I’m not entirely sure how this happened. Each time I go into a Ross or Big Lots, I scan the DVDs. They snuck up on me, really. But at least I have a quick reference for those moments when someone wants to know the difference between Mountain and Cobra poses or just the right way to sway hips during a hula dance. These are the important things in life, you know.

This obsession will come in handy starting tomorrow. I sat down at my computer and created my own gym schedule. My “gym” is closed on Tuesdays. Sundays are reserved for Qigong and Tai Chi. Mondays will be yoga and Pilates. Wednesdays is conditioning. Thursdays will be dance of some sort. Saturdays are for hardcore cardio. Then I dutifully organized all my DVDs in chronological order. It’s the only piece of my life that is in this degree of order.

Here’s to shedding the 30 pounds I gained in the last year and a half. And to my obsessive purchasing of off-the-wall DVDs.

Updates

I’m sure my header picture tells my current story (check out the two month old date!). Since I don’t have internet access at home, I am limited to posting whenever I have some free time at some other place. I’ve posted some on my other blog, and keep thinking that I need to put something over here. So here’s some of what’s been going on.

 A Bit of Refreshment

Mosaic

I Am Wonder Woman

Moonlight Sonata

Tough As Nails

Crisp. Clear. Refreshing.

Just Had to Share

Teenage Conversations

7.5 Years

What I’ve Been Reading

Overflowing

Now that I’ve posted some updates, my mind is settled enough to share what is really on it. Yesterday I went home and wrote in my journal: My heart has cried and filled my soul with its tears.

I work with some of the most amazing people I have ever had the opportunity to know. (And for those of you who know me, that’s a pretty high standard.) The school I’m at this year is an interesting place. Just take the pieces I’ve shared and put it together. It’s one of the lowest socio-economic areas settled next to one of the wealthiest sections of Florida. Most of my students are the children of farm workers. The parents work in the fields or packing houses from before sunrise to well past sunset and even into the wee hours of the morning. This back breaking work often provides for them a government-assisted duplex, Habitat for Humanity home, or a single-wide trailer shared with another family or two.

During our meeting yesterday, we discussing some rather disturbing information about some of our students. In the process, we decided to throw a small holiday party for our neediest students. The six of us put together a list and then decided to give them each a stocking filled with small gifts and some pizza.

When I say these kids are getting nothing for Christmas, I mean they are getting nothing. Some of them don’t even have their families at home. That thought alone breaks my heart when I think about how much Christmas means to a kid. I remember a few years when we had a very meager Christmas at my house, but I still cannot imagine having NOTHING to unwrap.

The conversation progressed, and we ended up going from sharing lunch together and exchanging gifts as a team to pooling our money to buy pizza and gifts for our neediest kids. The best part is that it didn’t stop there. We ended up almost fighting over who is going to buy a special gift for which kid.

I am moved by that level of compassion. And I am so excited to go shopping for my girls. One girl told me that she wants to learn the piano, and I offered to give her lessons in the morning (if I can remember to bring in my keyboard!). I’m going out to find her a keyboard to keep at home. I don’t know what I’m doing about the other one next.

And I’m so afraid that this is not coming across just the right way. It was such a beautiful moment. In fact, I’ve had many beautiful moments lately that I haven’t written about because I’m afraid my words won’t do it justice.

So now I need to go shopping.