The best things in life.

As summer winds down, and the nights become cooler; I am reminded of days past when my kids were young.  I dreaded this time of year.  Them going back to school.  The fussing and fighting in the mornings getting ready for school.  Arguing over breakfast and making sure they at least started the day out right.

Worrying about how many days they would skip this year and whether or not they were going to graduate.  Whether or not they would have all the necessary classes and if they were putting in all the effort that I knew they were capable.  Learning new things with them and discovering the world with them.  Taking a day off to go on a field trip.

The best things in life are most definitely not free.  They can be very expensive, but so worth the time, effort, energy and money that we invest in them.

The best things in life – at least in mine – are my kids. Expensive little creeps!  🙂

Bittersweet memories.  That lump in my throat when they flew from the nest.  Not because I am concerned or worried.  That lump is my heart at how beautiful they each are, and how incredibly proud I am of all three of them.  The men they have grown into.  The considerate, honorable, integrity driven, loyal and kind human beings they each are.  So different, but possessing an internal character that is undeniably their own.

It’s difficult for me to believe yesterday they were toddling around in diapers and getting bumps and bruises from learning to walk and ride their bikes and skateboarding.  I looked at them today and was startled at the grown men standing in front of me.  LOL – My heart lept out of my chest and into my throat and asked – When did that happen?  I was watching and looking and didn’t wish their childhoods away.  Jerks.  Didn’t they know they were supposed to stay little and small?

Someone asked me what I wanted to do with my life now.  Truth is – I hadn’t even really considered what I wanted to be other than their Mom. Oh, I know that I will always be their Mom.  It feels like this giant pill I keep trying to swallow.  Except I don’t take pills so I’m having a super difficult time trying to convince myself to swallow it.

The best thing in life.  Being a Mom.  From the time I found out I was pregnant, to the grueling labor and hip bone to hip bone incision and the near car birth and the fights, and the hugs, and the discipline and the weeks of not talking because I was afraid that I would say something I couldn’t take back.  The expensive Xbox’s, football gear, unexpected trips to the ER for stitches and broken bones.

Being their Mom has been the most awesome adventure ever.  I know it’s not over yet and we still have LOTS of firsts together.  Letting them out of my sight and trusting that I gave them all the information they needed to begin their lives, and trusting that they will call or text or email or Facebook when they need something is a little anxiety ridden.  Still, there’s some melancholy in the quiet of the house, the empty bedrooms and the cleanliness that comes when no one is at home.

Strange to find myself saying I miss the 20 hour days, the long treks for visitation, the picky eaters and the not so picky eaters.  I miss the questions and the friends and the laughter coming from the living room from playing on-line and hearing them connect with people from all over the world.  I miss the arguments and the making up and the wrestling in the living room and sitting on the counters in the kitchen while I cooked someone’s favorite meal and omitted onions.

It’s like taking the training wheels of their bikes and watching them ride down the road unprotected.  Crazy mixed up feelings – fear, pride, joy – holding them inside until they turn around with the most gorgeous smile on their face of triumph at riding down the road unassisted and riding back to you and throwing their arms around you for one of the best hugs ever and grins from ear to ear.

They could do it all along.  I always knew they could.  Just wasn’t ready for the “DID” of them doing so well.

As I write this, I’m kinda kicking myself in the butt and telling myself I did a good job while laughing at myself because this lump and heaviness in my chest region is nothing more than a reminder of how much I really do love my brats.  Wishing I hadn’t done such a good job and chastising myself for doing what I set out to do.  🙂

I’m gonna be missing those three.

I know that I will see them soon.

I know they will enjoy every day.

Guess it’s time to go and find something to do to fill up all this time I have on my hands now.  😉

 

When your Sensei’s challenge you..ugh

I lost my shit so I could rise to the challenge.  Sometimes, it’s the only thing you can do to win.

Please – read on…

I’m old.  Like 48 years old.  Except I feel 20 in spirit.  My body has disagreed with me multiple times and has sat me down to try and warn me of the narcissism that I will create if I continue down the current path that I am on.  It’s creaked and moaned and groaned until I finally gave it the bird and said, ” FUCK YOU.  The most advanced piece of technology that has even been put on this planet and you can’t do something as simple as drills and leg kicks and spar?  Sure, you’re gonna get punched, sure you’re going to get kicked.  Who’s gonna save your punk ass if some dude – I am a small woman in stature – wants to get his hands on you and hurt you when you’re like..60 and he thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips and can take your ass down and steal everything you’ve worked your ass off for? You’re a fucking loser and I’m not listening to you. Two Billion years of evolution and you want to sit down at 48?  What the fuck is wrong with you?  You’re the Mother of three healthy young men.  You want to have the stamina to keep up with those grand-kids you’ve been talking about for years.  You don’t do that by sitting on your ass and ‘hoping’ things are going to just miraculously materialize. Dumb Ass.”

My brain and I have been in mortal combat for the last three months.  Guess who won 🙂

So what’s the deal on losing my shit you ask?  Well.  I lost my shit a few years ago actually.  What I mean by that is, I lost my temper.  My cousin and I are calling it my nuclear explosion.  It was ugly.  I’ve spent the last couple of years telling people about themselves.  After years of people telling me about myself and doing the Christian thing and giving them other cheek to slap the shit out of; I finally swung back (metaphorically) when it has been appropriate.

I’ve lost people I thought were my friends when I spoke my truth.  Some family members I don’t speak with anymore because I haven’t been able to dole out money like I used to.  Seems they really never had another use for me.  The losses have been emotional as well as spiritual.  I’ve had to deal with grief on levels I didn’t even know existed.  ugh…I’ve had to parent myself in ways I have never parented myself before.  It’s been quite the struggle.  Patience has never been one of my stronger virtues and patience with myself – nonexistent.  To say that keeping myself calm over the last couple of years has been a struggle – is vastly an understatement.  Yoga has been a daily part of my life just to breathe that shit out.  Let me tell ya..woooo.. I’ve also had to do something that I never thought I would have to do.  Dope myself.  Any by doping  myself, I mean I had to literally sedate myself from harming someone while I underwent this descensitization process to relieve myself of a condition that is called Complex PTSD.  I smoked ALOT of weed to control the anger and hostility I was feeling.  I was seriously afraid I was going to hurt someone.  Weed kept me from completely losing my mind. I was close.  Very close.

Shit I had stored since I was a very young child of 7 that had festered and gotten to the point that it had to be dealt with or it was going to end up killing me.  I don’t recommend the process I used BTW – seriously.  Complex PTSD and PTSD are nothing to mess around with...There are other methods that work just as well.  I’m just really hard headed and like doing things my own way.    I learn best when the lesson is hard.  So that it is retained.  What is currently available (HEMP Oil/CBD) wasn’t when I began this process in addition to alternative energy therapies.  I used HEMP oil to replace the weed last November.   HEMP has below the legal limits of THC – which is what causes the psychedellics – but all the great benefits of relaxation and contemplation and creativity.  It allowed me to consider everything I needed to what I needed to work through and come to a point where I could actually think rationally again so that I could do something about my predicament.

Roughly three months ago there came a point in my training where the expectation to commit to the discipline.  I had to give this some seroius thought and packed my bags and came North to clear out the remaning bullshit that was rattling around in my brain and decide if I was worth the effort it was going to take to get what I wanted.  I would have to focus, really focus and learn new skills.  My brain was having real problems with the idea of learning. Stamping around throwing a fit, and crying…I’ve aleady been to school and college.  I’m tired of learning…blah blah blah.  I was behaving like a toddler that wasn’t getting their way.  Not something I normally do.

These last three months have been a stand off between what I know I can do, and the fear, excuses and years of conditioning that my brain has undergone since childhood.  Deeply embedded in the mind.  Takes focused effort to find the roots, dig them up and  and create new neural pathways so past behavior doesn’t dictate future behavior.

I did my Mom thing.  I waited me out.  I knew what I didn’t want.  I had to make the committment to do what I did want.  I hit me in the pocketbook.  Nothing less than full committment would do.  I put the same conditions on myself that I put on my kids when they began a sport.  Don’t start something you know you aren’t going to finish.  I want a Black Belt in Katsugo.  That takes years and years of practice and training.  Committment.  Falls, getting up, doing it again.  Getting hit again.  Getting up again.  I had done that raising my kids.  I knew what it meant.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to commit to something like that again.  So.  I took some time to deal with the voices in my head.  When I commit to something, I go all in.  It’s just the way I am wired.

Imagine if you will, a child standing in front of you, head tilted back and the child saying, “Again, really. Noooooooooooooidooontttwannnnnaaaaa”.  And slumping off to their room filled with pink polka dots and stuffed animals.  At 48.  I know.  A sight to behold let me tell ya..(rolling my eyes…at myself no less)

I like to call the negative nelly voices in my head The Shitty Committee.  The ones that tell you why a thing can’t be done, rathan than why a thing can be done.  That committee is counter-productive to envisioning a future of prosperity and abundance and happiness and strength and courage.  It’s counter-productive to getting the body I want and standing in complete confidence that if anyone ever tries to hurt me again – I will step up and fuck them up.  I want to continue to be nice.  I also want to make certain that I am confident I can handle myself.

I had an endless litany of excuses why I should not continue with the Dojo.  Work towards a goal that has been on my bucket list for as long as I can remember.  The whining has been incessant and disgusting.  “WTF is the actual problem?” I asked myself.  The response:  “They’ll hate me again”.

“Hate you for what?” I inquired.

“I’ll be successful again.”

“So.” I said flatly.  “They’ll hate you.  They hate you now.  What’s the big deal?”

Fair point.  Well made.

What I realized at that moment was, people don’t like successful people because most people won’t do what it takes to be successful.  They won’t do the hard work it takes to achieve their dreams and goals.  They don’t actually hate me, they hate themselves for their laziness.  What they are is jealous.  THAT, was not my problem.  All I can do is be an example of what is possible.

The trouble with overnight success stories is that we don’t see the hard work, gut wrenching work, the blood, sweat and tears that is put into attaining a goal.  All the general public sees is the end result.  The money, the cars, the nice houses.  Most of the world wants what the Bill Gates’ of the world have without doing the work that the Bill Gates’ of the world have done.  Doesn’t work that way.

I watched a video on YouTube that someone had posted on Facebook from Denzel Washington stating exactly that.  Ugh…I hung my head. Damn.  I guess I had my confirmation.  Guess I was going back in.

Now.  How to get back to that internal space of focus, dedication, motivation, drive and momentum.  I’m getting there.  A plan is coming together, and I am working the plan.

It makes me smile when I think of my Sensei’s on Facebook.  “I’m Not Normal” is one of the pages they follow.  I don’t think I have ever been more proud to be Not  Normal, to  rebel and not do what I am told to do.  I didn’t get to be an executive for the federal government by doing what I was told to do.

I’m a nerd. With an attitude.  An Old Ass Nerd…

I lost my shit so that I could lose my shit, and get back to the business of living instead of the business of dying.

 

Dragonpeace – AKA:  Shorty, C4, Sandpaper, and Wendi Lynn and MOM (only title I ever cared about!).

 

 

I wonder some times

The Spin

First Love. Softball.

Catching was the position. Soothing comfort and peace descend putting on the shin pads, strapping down the chest padding and finally, settling the helmet and pulling the face guard down. Ready.  Focused.  Tuned In.  Tapped In.

Now.

We get to play.

Hidden. Powerful. Essential. As was every other position. Each relying on the other to cover their position.

Right Arm pegging each infield position with sterling accuracy. Freedom. Finally doing something well.

Until.

Coaches decided The Arm would be better at pitching.

Sliders, curve balls, fast balls, breaking balls.

Not, a Natural. Pitcher.

They yelled. Scolded. Showed. Spin this way. Spin that way. Put the ball on your fingers….like…this.

It only took a couple of seasons. Holding the seams on my fingers. Setting up. To rock and fire. Feeling all eyes on the mound. On Me.  Feeling the criticism already building in the dug out. In the stands.

Could not Clear The Mechanism.

Armchair Quarterback. Never having played the game themselves.

Last game. We lost.

Standing on the Mound. Holding the ball and turning it over in my hand. Fingers wrapped around the seams. Spread in a V.

The Spin.

Chest Heavy. Head down on the way way back to the dugout.

Barely breathing.

We could have won. Had they listened. All they saw was the strength of The Arm and winning. My accuracy in the throw. Instead of the joy in each players position.

We lost because I couldn’t get the spin down. I was a reader and Catcher playing….

the wrong position.

Wish Words…The Secret

I sense that you are not feeling good and may need some Wishing Words.

So here is my list of wishes, just for you.

In hopes that dreams, really can come true.

I wish:

for you be happy here – in this small town next to the Big Town.

to be your best friend and partner & build the lives that we’ve been dreaming of.

to sit in the second chair.

That’s where I feel most at home.

for others to know – just how much your love means to me.

For your Joy and Happiness

Even if that means public humiliation and becoming a Troll.

for easy days and no options.

For a field of wishes waiting and a gentle breeze to set them free and carry them away

to the Powers that Be.

For long hot showers to wash the Day away.

Long Hot baths with Sandlewood and Jasmine

followed by long deep massages to ease the stress of the day away.

I wish for playing in the Ocean and sun tanned feet.

Laughter and Harmony

as you walk a creek.

I wish you Peace and a warm Spring Day

as you find the time to sing, and Play.

I would follow you anywhere.  You know its true.

I know that you feel Me, as I feel You.

May this beautiful Spring Time Day grant these wishes

in all that you do and say.

I Love YOU!

Words – the Secret

Back in the day when I was a younger girl – there was a nursery rhyme that we used to say that was intended to help us deal with people who were hurting our feelings.  That nursery rhyme is:

Sticks and s tones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

I’ve been working with one of my very best cousins – and very dear friend – and tracing some synaptic firings trying to root out some distress that I have been enduring.  I realized this morning that I would rather take that beating (and have on many occasions) than have someone sling hurtful words at me.  Words can CRUSH a soul.  It has been my experience that words, or even the lack of them, can heal or kill.

Words or the lack of them, are the sharpest edge and cut the deepest.  Leaving lasting wounds, or healing the deepest of wounds.

In the days when my children were very young, I did not need to spank them – my words or a look could halt whatever it was that they were doing that wasn’t appropriate.  I always responded with love and understanding that they were learning.  It was my job to teach them what they needed to know to live in the world.

I always laughed and joked with friends and colleagues about my viper tongue.

Vipers are accurate.  They will leave you alone unless they feel very threatened.  My eldest used to chase them, and it always scared me when he did.  I inherited a very strong fear of snakes.  Fortunately, for my eldest and me both, he had a wonderful teacher when he was in high school that taught him the various different kinds of snakes.  Which ones were venomous, and which ones were harmless and good to have around and which ones would run from him.  My eldest shared that knowledge and education with me.  My fear of snakes grew less and less as the years have passed.

His favorite to try and catch when we lived in the country was a Coach Whip.  Quick, large snakes that didn’t like to be around people too much and will get out of Dodge with a quickness.  He would try locate one and chase it to try and catch it.  it always proved elusive.  He has always been incredibly accurate in his identification of each snake.  I am so very grateful he has never been harmed by one.  Just never could catch that Coach Whip.

Back to my Viper tongue.

I made it a policy when my children were young that information was power.  It was my goal to give them as much information as I could and allow them to make decisions on their own and allow them to fail while they were young, and to provide guidance for correction. That way, when they grew into the wonderful adults I knew they would eventually become, they would be able to make informed decisions.  To reap the benefits of those decisions, or to suffer the consequences of those decisions.

It was and continues to be my primary goal to teach them HOW TO THINK, not what to think.  There are times when I have done my Job maybe a little too well, and they have out thought me.  Which, was the ultimate goal anyway.

I would have to say that I am a fairly liberal parent.  I do, however, have very firm boundaries that are no secret to anyone who knows me well.  When those boundaries are crossed, my Viper tongue coils up and gives plenty of warning that it’s about to strike.  My Rattle begins going off like nuts prior to the strike in self-defense and for self-preservation.

As an animal of lower intelligence, a viper does not feel angst or remorse when it strikes.  It strikes, injects its venom and then simply gets the hell out of Dodge.

As a human of higher intelligence and Mother, remorse, angst and regret often follow a self-preservation act of the Viper tongue.  As the higher intelligence and more evolved being, I believe it’s my Job to evaluate that act of self-preservation and determine if it was a justified act for the evolution and growth of my children, or if it was in fact, a strike of fear.

As an educated Mother and introvert, I go silent after a Viper Strike.  Dealing with my own issues of the encounter, sifting through the events.  Sorting through each detail.  Identifying any old injuries or traumas from the past and breaking any synaptic firings to replace with fresh, caring and understanding new data.  So that those areas of danger can be avoided in the future.

When I have completed that analysis and can look at the data in front of me.  I own my part, and have a conversation.  The reason that I do it this way is because I want my words to be heard, and incorporated into my children’s psyche’s to carry forward into the future so that there is additional information for them to make Powerful decisions in their lives, and to not make the same mistakes in the future.  It is my dominant intention to learn from my mistakes, the first time, and to teach them from that lesson by providing insight into my own psychology, and have them learn from them. As I have.

The apologies for my house have ALWAYS BEEN.

The only apology acceptable – is a change in behavior.  Verbalizing the apology and clearly and plainly stating what the apology is for, and then solutions to ensure that the behavior is not repeated.  As their Mom, it’s my job to have solutions already worked out in case once is not enough and the lesson needs repeating.  Generally speaking, once is usually enough.

Sometimes, as parents, we think we know everything.  The trouble with that mindset is – we are still learning ourselves.  I’ve never been this age before.  I’ve never been this old and young at the same time before.  It’s a new adventure in – holy crap – what NOW?

I have very often said to my eldest –

My Greatest Strength is that I know I don’t know everything.

My Greatest Weakness is that I know I don’t know everything.

Being a Super Hero is great.  Until it’s not.

Because even Superman has Kryptonite.

So very much LOVE.

Have a very BLESSED Sunday.

Devil went down to Florida

he was looking for a soul to take.

He jumped up on that Internet and decided to take up prose.

little girl with the Kitty was more than he could handle.

What he didn’t know was she was Tapped In and Turned On

to the Good Lord above.

Boy Let Me Tell you What

NoBODY beats the Ris.

I’m A Fiddle Player Too.

I DONE TOLD YOU.

I’m the Best that’s ever been.

I know you regret so you take that Goldon Fiddle

and Get Lost

Oh CBD Oh CBD

Have I told you how much I love you lately?

Well.  I do.

It’s just me and you from now on.  You’ve pulled my Ass out of the depth’s of hell and I absolutely love the way you make me feel all warm and fuzzy.  Kicking that old Menopause’s Ass like you did.

Oh CBD …Oh CBD

What else you got In Store For Me?

Hiccup.

Feels like…

Some time ago a good friend mentioned that I “think too much” and I was rather irritated by that statement.  After some years of reflection and healing from childhood trauma and a condition called Complex PTSD.  Of which, according to my psychologist Jennifer Sager, Ph.D. at the ITM Group in Gainesville, Florida – I am fully recovered.  I have come to discover that my good friend was absolutely correct.  Another good friend of mine told me that I was just going to have to feel my way through to find the solution to an issue that I had long avoided.  She too was correct.

I am not a practicing psychologist, though I do have education in psychology and have utilized that education to help me impede the damage that my own psychology could have bestowed on my offspring.  I am not perfect and am certain that there areas that I hope to have the luxury of correcting with my children, and hopefully with future Grand Children.

I’m leaping forward a little bit.

Please accept my apologies.

Humility:  The quality or condition of being humble; modest opinion or estimate of one’s own importance, rank.  Dictionary.com

Why is this an important idea to me and why is it so challenging?  Well.  For as long as I can remember I have wanted to write and be an author.  The problem with writing is that it exposes me.  It exposes me because writing for me personally is a literary style.  My heart and soul go into what I am writing.  Very few people have seen that part of me.  It scares me.  It opens me to vulnerability.  For me, that is a place of potential pain and regression into myself.  Shutting myself off again to the world and living quietly, head down, working my butt off and praying I’m not noticed.

The beauty of writing is that it exposes me.  When I write and ‘get in the zone’ and my happy place, words just flow.  It’s like someone or something else is in charge and the fluidity and motion of the ocean is gently rocking inside of me and I’m just along for the ride.  I can breathe.  Deeply.

And then, when it’s finished and the editing is complete.  I hit the publish button and panic surges through me..YIKES!

It is at that moment that I realize and am humbled beyond measure. There are so many other people who are so much better at living than I am. So much better at writing. At success and abundance and prosperity and at making their way in this world.  At technology.  At making sure everything is working just as it is meant to work.

I also remember that there are those just like me – struggling every day to live an authentic and worth-while life.  Perhaps it is those that I seek to connect with and we can help each other along the way?

Prosperity:  a successful, flourishing, or thriving condition, especially in financial respects; good fortune. Dictionary.com

I flinched at the financial respects; good fortune portion of this definition until I flipped over to the Thesaraus.  Synonyms are:

Abundance | Benefit  | Ease | Expansion | Growth| Increase | Plenty | Prosperousness

These feel so much better to me.  Accurate.  Descriptive. Authentic.

I have known prosperity before.  During my career at the University of Florida and with the Department of Veterans Affairs.  I didn’t know what it was.  I just knew I was dumb and needed to follow the leader and absorb as much information as I could.  I didn’t open my mouth because I was afraid of confirming how dumb I really was.

Perhaps one of my brothers was right.  Maybe I am an overeducated dumbass that needed to be taken down a notch or two.  Perhaps that isn’t as negative as it sounds.  Perhaps being a positive role model to my kids and being a good example is simply being able to take a punch and keep on keeping on.

I’m beginning to wonder.  Maybe it’s not panic I’m feeling when I hit the publish button?

Maybe … its a surge of courage at venturing into the unknown?

Where in the world…?

Good morning.  I hope that this finds you well.

I know I’ve been ‘gone’ for a few years.  Quite honestly, I’ve had a total freaking melt-down.  I didn’t know if I was coming or going.  Most of the last four years I have spent running around in a circle like a chicken with my darn head cut off.  I’m on the mend now though and am getting my sea legs back up under me and wanted to share some insights and revelations with you.

One of my sons, Brandt Lilly, said that I should tell our story.  I think that’s a great idea.  I believe I will begin that story today.  He turned 27 in January and is wise beyond his years.  I hope in my telling of our story, we both have the courage to continue healing and growing into the human beings that I know we can be.

Brandt started working for his Uncle in construction and was hanging from the rafters helping my brother set trusses in wood framed houses in High Springs, Florida.  He was 13 when he began working and hasn’t stopped since.  He worked with my brother until he was 16 when he got a job at Moe’s and then got a second job at the Ivy House after my brother’s company was closed until he graduated from high school with a GPA of 3.8.  He earned extra money for the things that he wanted to buy for himself.  He knows hard work and is not happy unless he is learning something new.

He began working in the security industry when he moved to Orlando at 18 and has busted his tail learning that industry and is now a project manager for SkyNet Technologies in Sarasota, Florida.  An up and coming security company.  He’s doing great, but his heart is in Construction.  For a number of years now he has wanted to be a General Contractor and get his MBA.  Due to circumstances beyond his control and his unyielding sense of responsibility to his brothers, and to me, he has put his education and dreams on the back burner.  A travesty of the game as far as I am concerned.

He has so much of me in him that it simultaneously makes my heart swell with pride and yet, hurts me that he has put his own dreams and aspirations aside to take care of me and work to help elevate his brothers.  A warrior and champion if there ever was one.

I am a very proud Momma.

In addition to being a very proud Momma, I am also a secretary and retired federal administrative officer.  I have education in psychology and organizational development.  Both have helped me in my career.  Though, the real reason I went to school was in order to keep up with my son and his intelligence.  He has always been more intelligent than me and was in advanced classes all throughout his academic career beginning in grammar school.  I knew that if I did not educate myself – I would not have been able to help him during his foundational years.

Now that he is grown and I have all my Eaglets back in their pew, I am working towards building a clientele for virtual administration so that I am able to kick my young Eagle out of the nest so to speak.  I want him to feel free to run down his dreams and grow into the man that I know he is capable of becoming.

I’m going to be updating my LinkedIn Profile in the next few days to reflect the skills that I enjoy and excel in.  Ones that can be done digitally and allow us the mobility to work from anywhere.  In this technological era, working outside in the sun, under a tree or near a slow-moving stream is healing us from the inside out. Working this way allows us the freedom to put our best foot forward and be available to those who need us yet continue to accomplish taking care of our greatest loves.

May the energy of healing and growth continue as we move forward in our very blessed lives.

 

Much love and light,

Wendi L. Spisak

Virtual Administrative Assistant

Blog:  A Dragon’s Peace