Tag Archives: balance

Rough Go

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That’s been me lately. Having a rough go of it. It’s like a switch has been thrown and I’m in the funk.

This whole wedding planning thing is OVERWHELMING. Capital letters all the way.

I don’t say this for pity or to be dramatic. I know there are worse things happening globally, there are things that need attention beyond my little world. I know people would love to be in a position of planning an over-the-top wedding with all the fixins. But I am completely overwhelmed.

I’ve been trying to find the happy medium, the balance, but let me tell you, when your ideal wedding was a courthouse getaway that has now been turned into a full-blown wedding extravaganza, it’s hard to find the healthy grip on life again.

All the compromises, I’ve heard them and pitched them, so no need to offer advice on how to find the middle ground, either. Destination wedding? Timmy vetoed that a LONG time ago. Courthouse wedding then have a big party? No difference in the overall price, so not really worth compromising on. Eloping? I think I would greatly regret it. Split the cost? I. am. poor.

I don’t need any, “Hey girl, you’ll be fine!” and I especially don’t need any, “Just get over it and have fun!” None of those help, and in fact, they make me feel worse.

The budget just keeps climbing and climbing so fast I’m having anxiety and trouble sleeping. I’m feeling such an overwhelming (there’s that word again) amount of guilt mixed with appreciation…I don’t really think there’s a word that fits the feeling that has embedded itself into my veins. My parents have offered to pay for the wedding, which holy shit, is just about the most generous thing they’ve done for me since, oh I don’t know, paid for all of my education and everything I’ve ever needed ever.

How do you accept a gift like that when you expected all the gifts to have ended by now?

I have felt physically ill when I see how much this wedding is already costing, and I think back to all those times (and there were MANY times) I scoffed at the wedding industry and couldn’t believe people spent that much money on one day that goes by likethat.

I guess I am now one of those people. Never say never, I guess.

Don’t get my intentions here wrong. I am not unappreciative. In fact, I’m so appreciative, I can’t stop crying. I seriously have cried nearly every single day for over a week, and we’ve only been wedding planning for like 5 weeks now. First it was the guest list that just about stopped my heart. Then it was the searching for a venue in a city and state we don’t live in, which makes the necessity of finding a place that much greater so we can stop worrying about it and not have to fly back and forth a million times. Then it was the list that our wedding planner handed to us with a never-ending list of things to do that shortens my breath. Then it was the year anniversary of Jake passing, which was just the cherry on top of a guilt-ridden, weepy, anxiety-producing sundae.

I will get to a place where I’m ok with all of this, I know I will. I will feel immensely happy and appreciative without the guilt. I’m not quite there yet, and I have to be ok with that too. We all have a process, and considering this is the first and last time I will ever do this, I need to move through the shock to get to the happy.

The happy is being with my partner, the happy is spending a life exploring each other and this world, the happy is making him laugh for years to come, the happy is in the celebration of this love.

The happy is Timmy. Which will be my mantra from here until our wedding day.

♥, VB

Crying Through the Om

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I’ve been practicing yoga pretty steadily for the last three years for two main reasons: 1) my back is jacked to hell and I needed to find an exercise that strengthened my core without placing unnecessary stress on it, and 2) after reconstructive ankle surgery, my right leg was useless and I needed to rebuild its strength. I like yoga because you have to focus on the present or else you fall out of positions and frustration quickly takes over. You must be in control while also letting go in each pose. It’s very complicated stuff, this yoga.

I remember in college trying to get into yoga with my girlfriends and unfortunately, never succeeded. It was a breathing-centered yoga, and without fail, every class I would hyperventilate and pass out. Wow, that’s a really fun way to pass an hour of your life, let me tell you. So I gave up on yoga.

Until I found athletic yoga that so reminded me of my years as a ballet dancer. The concentration, the ability to improve strength and balance, the competitive side it brings out of me when I see someone more advanced, all while sweating my ass off — it was the perfect combination to hook me in. Over the years, I’ve seen a significant change in my body, in the way it looks, and also how it feels. It’s incredible to feel your body, I mean really feel it, as an adult. It’s totally different than lifting weights or your common cardio.

I know that yoga has restorative properties and can help with stress management, but I’ve never bought into the different breathing, chants, and de-toxifying mumbo jumbo that many instructors spit out like truth. When I hear, “This is really good at helping your liver breathe” I want to hurl the teacher out of the window. My public health brain is always on so don’t try to fool me with your soft, enchanting voice.

I go to yoga to shut my brain off but also to turn it on, to really focus on the pose and nothing but, and to breathe through the discomfort so I can lengthen and stretch. It’s harder than it looks, because you actually have to try to make it challenging. That’s the greatest thing about yoga in my opinion: it’s hard if you want to be harder, but it’s easy when you need it to be. There’s not a lot in life you can control like that.

Lately, things have been rough and amazing. I’ve been dealing with Jake’s loss in my own way, sometimes breaking down, other times laughing at an outfit that would definitely gain his approval (he was a clothes snob, btw). I’ve also been traveling like crazy this past month, in Spain for a week, Baltimore the next week for a conference, then Michigan for a certification program. My car broke down twice, and I’ve been collecting donations for Jake’s son’s college tuition savings plan from our high school class. It’s helped to keep me busy, but has definitely made it harder to process things. Now it’s April, and I look back on March like WTF happened?! Is it really over? We were so looking forward to Spain, and now it’s over. The conference, over. My time in Michigan, done (until October).

How is this ok? For time to move this quickly, and all of the sudden you look up, and it’s been over a month since your friend passed away. A month. I’ve barely had time to keep my head above water, and then a month is gone without me even realizing it.

Last week I got more bad news from an extremely close friend. I won’t say his name because he hasn’t gotten the results back nor am I sure that he has shared this beyond just his close friends, but he was diagnosed with testicular cancer.

Have you ever had bad news hit you so hard that you don’t even cry? Like, your brain can’t even process the words but it knows it’s bad? After I got the news, I just started to shake uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop it, I just shook, and the shaking didn’t even stop for sleep. I would jolt straight up in bed, shaking, after dreaming about losing another friend. The tears came later, when I left him a voicemail letting him know that I was thinking of him during his surgery, and that I wish I could be there for him and his family.

It’s just one punch after another, and the thought of losing another person, and in particular a person who helped shape who I am today, an individual that I can’t even separate from my adolescence or 20s, is too much for my head and heart to comprehend right now. I’m just trying to get through, hour by hour, but hoping that time doesn’t get away from me like it did last month.

And now we return to yoga. Yesterday, after an extremely invigorating Hot Power class in which I was able to complete yet one more advanced arm balance, we sat after savasana, the corpse pose, at the end of the practice. Savasana was the hardest pose for me to become comfortable with when I first started yoga. It requires you to lie still, and shut your brain off but stay focused. Sound confusing? It is. Letting your brain stay on but not running is the most difficult thing to learn how to do. I mean duh, meditation exists for a reason.

I cried the first time I got into savasana because the silence was the most uncomfortable for me. I couldn’t find a place of peace in it. And that was shameful to me. Why couldn’t I just be silent? What was wrong with me?

Last night, after savasana, we sat up to chant Om 3 times. Here’s what Wikipedia says about Om:

The vibration of “OM” symbolises the manifestation of God in form (“sāguna brahman”). “OM” is the reflection of the absolute reality, it is said to be “Adi Anadi”, without beginning or the end and embracing all that exists.[1] The mantra “OM” is the name of God, the vibration of the Supreme

Depending on the day, I could be okay with joining in and chanting Om with the group. Yesterday was one of those days. I sat, legs crossed, and chanted the first Om.

The vibrations started in my chest, and I immediately choked up. My throat closed up and my eyes filled with tears, and I had zero control. It was like the vibrations were forcing an emotional expression within me. Then the shock of what was happening hit me. What was happening??

The second Om began, and again the vibrations in my chest were almost too much for me. My voice broke, and I couldn’t finish the second Om. I was beginning to panic, in my head, because I wasn’t trying to be emotional. It was just happening. I was able to complete the third Om, only I used a much softer voice to chime in.

Let me remind you, I’m not the person that buys into this yogi divine stuff. I’ve never once given credence to the idea of yoga being a way to connect to the divine, or whatever. I still don’t know if I do, even after that experience.

All I know is that I needed that moment to sit in myself again. I’ve spent so much time the last month doing for others, or traveling, or being somewhere other than super present in myself and the moment, that I forgot what it felt like. To be here, right now, and be okay with being still. And in forgetting that, there came a sadness, a realization that it’s not okay to keep going, day after day, without being still and present. A reminder that life is about controlling and letting go, all at the same time.

Thank you yoga, for being there for me when I need that reminder the most.

♥, VB

High Five for Friday

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Welcome to Friday everyone! I got the idea for a “High Five for Friday” post from one of my favorite bloggers, Kate at The Small Things Blog. Today marks the end of my first full work week in my new place. Here are the 5 best things from my week:

1. I drive 15 minutes, to and from work. I’ll repeat that: I DRIVE 15 MINUTES TO WORK NOW. After a year of 60+ plus miles each way to the crapvilla known as Lakeland, I can tell you for sure that I’m a changed person. It’s only been one week, but man do I feel like myself again, instead of that crabby monster-she-devil that was posing as me for the last year.

2. I was a single mommy to Floyd this week, and while he wasn’t the greatest house guest (he woke me up multiple times over multiple nights because he had to go out and had diarrhea), it was such an amazing feeling to be able to drive home over lunch, walk him or play ball with him, then drive back to work, all under an hour.

With a rescue dog, we’ve understood for some time now that his anxiety is part of the package, and I’m sure that without Timmy this week, his head was crazytown. The pooping aside, lunch hours are awesome when you live close to work.

3. I’ve been able to cook meals at home now instead of having only Jenny Craig. Jenny Craig was kind of a necessity last year because I arrived home so late and didn’t have the time or energy to cook. And I love cooking, so not being able to cook for months on end just killed me.

I was able to make spaghetti last week, turkey breast taco salad, and salmon with brussel sprouts. Did I mention that I love living closer to work??

4. I haven’t had to fill my gas tank this week. I did last weekend after driving to Lakeland and back since Timmy’s still there while he looks for a place in Orlando. Before, I was filling up twice every week, which equaled around $400-$500 a month in gas alone. God, I’m overdosing on living closer to work.

5. I’m actually jonesing to see my honey. I know that for most of you, you’re thinking, “Aren’t you always? Why would this make her top 5 list?” And the answer would be no, I wasn’t always.

Not to sound like a bitch, but last year sucked, and many times, I wanted to be far away from Lakeland because I felt like I was going insane. Now that I have my own place, I feel more centered and just plain old happier. I get to do things on my own time, on my schedule, I get to decorate how I want, buy and not buy what I want. It’s like the greatest sense of contained freedom.

Now that I’m feeling more like myself, I’m itching to see Timmy. It feels like how it did before, when we had to do shack packs when we spent the night at each other’s places. When we both had our own spaces, we could live as we wanted, and seeing each other was special and something we looked forward to.

Now when we FaceTime, I’m excited to see his face, I’m ready to hear about his day, and I’m prepared to be a partner. That’s an amazing feeling, let me tell you.

Clearly, my first work week with my new commute has been kick-ass awesome. I’m nicer, I’m more relaxed, and I’ve recently become re-obsessed with Law & Order: SVU on Hulu (I had a moment during college, but I kicked the habit until recently).

That Mariska Hargitay is one strikingly beautiful woman. I’d like to thank her for keeping me company this week.

Hope you enjoy the weekend!

♥, VB

Why I Believe in the Power of Prayer

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STAY WITH ME! Don’t leave! I promise this isn’t a Jesus-saved-me-so-now-life-is-amazing story.

If you thought it was and that’s why you’re here, please don’t leave either! I promise this is a good story.

I didn’t always pray. In fact, who needs prayer when you can make.shit.happen. Prayer just seemed like a moment that was taken up by more thoughts, more talk, when I just wanted quiet.

I turned 15, and everything changed. I had a situation that shook my whole family, and from that day on, I believed something. Let me clarify that: I believed in something. Something larger than myself and to this day, I believe with all my heart that something kept me here when it could’ve taken me away. I was supposed to be here.

But why? For what reason did I live? What was I supposed to do with my life if my life was meaningful enough to save?

That’s when I started to pray. Not for answers, but for guidance. I prayed every night that God would help me find my path. And not only help me find my path, but keep me on it. To help me not be swayed from what I was meant to do in my lifetime. To keep me going forward.

I prayed those same words for YEARS. When things got crazy in my life, when I was partnered with the wrong people, when I was off doing nutso things, when I was off balance, I prayed the same words.

I did realize over a few years that I have to do some of the work myself. DUH. And so I did. I researched my job path, talked to people who held the jobs I wanted, and figured out for myself how to get where I needed to go.

Others helped FOR SURE. My parents paid for all of my education, so without them, I’d be a sad sack of debt. I was able to work flexible jobs during my education that helped me pay for this and that. And I didn’t really ever flounder because my foundation of friends and family was so solid. I graduated with my MPH from Emory and was moving on up.

Then the economy tanked.

My jobs went away, the path that I KNEW I was supposed to be on disappeared beneath my feet. And so I went back to prayer. Went back to the same words I had been praying for years. Help me find my path and help keep me on it.

I got jobs that I HATED. HATED with a fiery passion. FLAMES ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE kind of hate (Clue? Anyone? Best movie ever).

But I kept praying. And I kept trying to learn as much as I could, in case I would need it later. Always keeping my options open, but with a narrow focus on the end goal. So narrow, in fact, it drove my parents crazy! They kept wanting something else for me, but I was sure that I was doing what I needed to do to get to where I wanted to go.

And then, THREE AND A HALF YEARS LATER, opportunities started to open up, and I took full advantage. Every night, I said those words in a prayer, and every night I believed that I would be helped. Now, in St. Pete, I believe with all my heart that it’s because of my faith that I got where I needed to be and had the strength of character to make it happen.

Every opportunity I didn’t get for all those years of praying are falling into my lap left and right here. When it rains, it hurricanes right? (A little FL humor for you.) And I’m taking advantage of everything that I can. I would be stupid not to. I mean, hello, THIS IS WHAT I PRAYED FOR. It wasn’t overnight, it wasn’t the next night, but it happened.

Not only did I ask for guidance and support, I also made it happen. You can never get what you want if you don’t go for it. Period.

So I guess you’re wondering why I decided to write an entire post about prayer. You already know that I feel fortunate as F*%K, that I’m blessed beyond belief. You know why we moved down here. You know all this. Why talk about it now?

Because prayer also helped Timmy & me happen.

If you know me, you know that I’m a strong, independent, fiery, dancing machine. No one really ever gets in my way, and I get what I want when I want it. I don’t really care what others think of me because I never stop long enough to think about what others may think of me in the first place. And I’m also the most impatient person you’ve ever met.

Like seriously, it’s a problem.

I’ve been this way my entire life, I kid you not. I could never last an entire game of Monopoly (I think I only played the entire game once), I can’t stand when people or events take longer than I want, I hate waiting in line, I hate crowds, my God forsaken commute, I hate anything that sets me off my schedule.

So as you can tell, I spend a lot of time frustrated and pissed at things outside of my control.

So it occurred to me, around the same time that I figured out how to ask for guidance on my career path, that I could also ask for help getting patience. It couldn’t hurt, right? Besides, isn’t that God’s thing, being patient and all that?

And so I prayed for patience too. I prayed every night, “Please give me patience.” I prayed and asked for help in being patient.

After probably 6 years of praying for patience, I wasn’t noticing any difference in my ability to be patient. No progress. None. Nada. Zip. And to be honest, I wasn’t really trying. I didn’t know how to be any other way.

Then Timmy came into my life. This huge personality of fun, laughter, kindness, reliability, and genuine friendship wanted to be with me. Forever. And I also wanted to be with him forever. He was the partner I’d been wishing for my entire life.

Everything was perfect the first year or so. I mean, isn’t it always? I’d been in relationships before, so I knew the honeymoon phase was going to be coming to a close soon. Oh snap, did it ever.

As I’ve mentioned numerous times on this blog, Timmy is not exactly what I’d call a good time manager. In fact, he’s terrible at it. He’s constantly late, which in turn, makes us late to everything. He has no system, he has no schedule, he has no mindset that’s similar to mine.

With a fiery vengeance, my patience evaporated. I found myself unable to control my anger, exploding all the time, because I had no patience. I still prayed for it, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.

And then, I realized it. The glaring fact that had been staring me in the face for almost 4 years. How I didn’t see this until a few months ago, I have no idea. I was blind to it until I just decided to open my eyes.

God paired me, someone with minor OCD, with Timmy, who has ADHD.

Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor, right?

Now that I can finally see how God answered my prayer, I have to laugh about it.  I mean, duh, of course God would give me someone who has a total inability to focus and fully concentrate for long periods of time. HOW ELSE WOULD I BE ABLE TO PRACTICE BEING PATIENT?!?!

I’ve realized that it wasn’t about God just handing me a package with PATIENCE written on the label. I have to practice, every day, being patient. It won’t come any other way. In fact, I was on Pinterest the other day and found this:

Image

Honestly, I have no idea if that’s from Joyce Meyer or not. The quote itself struck me in a way that I’ve never been struck by anything online. It was like the story of my life’s struggle, in 15 words or less. I’ve been repeating this in my head daily now, not only as a reminder of what patience is but also as a reminder that God did answer my prayer. Just not in the way I expected.

Timmy is God’s gift of patience to me. And I thank God every day for that because otherwise, without my prayer, we may never have found a reason to be together forever. We probably would’ve just passed each other, high fived, and moved on.

Prayer is important for many reasons, but I believe it’s a way to challenge yourself and boil down your deepest desires to the simplest form. If I had asked God to just give me a cool job without asking him to put me on a path, I would’ve ended up bored and languishing in a dead end position. If I had asked for a fun partner who always makes me laugh, I never would’ve had the opportunities that I do with Timmy to constantly better myself.

Hard work and prayer go hand in hand. Timmy and I are meant to be, sure, but we have to work and work and work at making sure we stay meant to be.

Don’t pray for wishes and long shots. Pray for the opportunity to show that you can do something. Pray for that window where you can see hope. Pray for the time that you can rise to occasion. And when those moments happen, ACT.

That’s my story folks. And I’m sticking to it.

♥, VB

How to Compromise

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I apologize immediately if you thought this post is an explanation or a discussion on how you can best learn to compromise with someone else. It’s not. I’m actually asking you how to compromise with someone else who at times feels like they hail from another time-space continuum. How do you do it?

I feel like sometimes I nail it, right on the head, that sweet spot known as a perfect compromise. The decision that gets both parties what they want satisfactorily without anyone feeling like major sacrifices took place. Other times, I feel like the only way to feel like justice is being served is to duke it out Hunger Games-style until one person is dead and the other left standing victorious and therefore able to make whatever the hell decision he/she wants to make. Is this just me?

hunger games

The more time that passes in our relationship, the less I can tell if we’re getting better or worse at compromising. It doesn’t matter if it’s a small or little thing. Most of the time, compromising feels like one of us is just giving up in order to move forward without a fight. Is that what compromise is in the end? Between two people who have chosen to spend their lives together, compromise = giving up? Should I be disappointed in this?

quick search of google gives you this definition of compromise

quick search of google gives you this definition of compromise

There are probably about a million things that Timmy and I agree on. But for those million things we agree on, there’s half we really don’t see eye to eye. Half of that stuff is non-important stuff that we can agree to compromise on, staying in that sweet spot zone. A quarter of non-agreeing stuff, I don’t think either one of us really cares about at all, so we agree to let the other person just have their way. But that last 1/4 of the stuff….holy shit, that’s the stuff that makes you stay awake at night, the stuff that you will destroy furniture and glassware for (not that I’ve done this), the items that you don’t think Satan or God could get you to change your thinking on.

Most of the stuff that Timmy and I agree on are those important life things, like core values, moral fiber, education, and relative equal standing in life. Those things have always been what I believe makes or breaks a relationship. If you can’t agree to the values that you hold dear in your own life, you have no chance of making it. I’ve experienced it before in past relationships and see loved ones’ relationships crumble all the time because the foundation they thought they had in common was built out of totally different and incompatible materials.

The stuff we don’t agree on, the items we would punch each other in the face over (if it were legal and not harmful), that’s the stuff I constantly struggle with deciding on how to compromise.

Take for example being punctual. In my family, we are HYSTERICAL about being places on time. This is not a joke. Many many many a fight has been launched because someone made the entire group late. It doesn’t even matter what we’re doing or where we’re going; it matters if we’re on time or not. I will admit that being punctual is probably one of the only things that gives me legit anxiety. And it’s a tangible anxiety that anyone can see starts to get worse and worse as the minutes tick by.

Timmy, on the other hand, I wonder if he can even tell time. I don’t say this to be a bitch, but to illustrate his inability to manage time. He is habitually at least 15 minutes late to everything, and when we have to go somewhere, that time has extended to two hours more than once. MULTIPLE HOURS LATE. Why…what…I mean, how is this even possible?!?!

When I get ready, I’m able to accurately estimate how long it takes me per item on my checklist: do hair (15 minutes), makeup (5 minutes), find outfit (5-10 minutes), pack (20-30 minutes), etc. It’s the planner in me. I know myself well enough to call it like I see it: I’m not spontaneous, I’m not chill, I’m not “fly by the seat of your pants”. I’m the complete opposite of all of that, and I love that about myself. I’ve been this way since I could form thoughts. I believe it really is a part of who I am and how I present myself to people. What I believe my planning and punctuality say about me is this: “Victoria is punctual and reliable. She wants me to trust that she will be places on time, be where she says she will be, that she is honest and trustworthy.”

I can’t even honestly tell you how Timmy approaches time management. I’ve never seen anything in my experience that suggests that he has a plan or is able to accurately estimate how long it takes him to do things. Most of the time, his time projections are off by about 20 minutes. From my viewpoint, he spends a lot of his time moving slowly, checking FB and his phones, stopping by the tv to watch ESPN, then moves on to do things on his checklist. We’ve been late to weddings, festivals, parties, vacations, and dinners because of his time management skills. And it kills me slowly every single time. All I had to do was read this article today in the Huffington Post to get anxious all over again about being late to things!

I know everyone is different and handles things differently. To each, his/her own, right? In most cases, I agree with this statement. I don’t want to ask someone to change something about themselves that is character-defining or is one of those core value items I discussed before. That would be ridiculous and just wrong.

But herein lies my problem: DO I GIVE IN OR FIGHT TILL I DIE ABOUT PUNCTUALITY??? His inability to move his arse into a similar gear that mine is in drives me crazy. Certifiably crazy. Should I just accept that this is how he is, and try to control the anger and rage that rise in my throat every time it happens? Or do I insist that he try to practice time management skills like alarm-setting, to do lists, reminders, itinerary planning, because it’s a necessary skill to have in life? Shouldn’t the mere fact that it drives his girlfriend insane be enough?

How do you compromise on something that you feel is important, with every bone in your body, but isn’t on the same list of priorities for your partner? I attempt to control my anxiety so that my reaction isn’t negative and strong. But in order for me to feel like it’s a true compromise, shouldn’t he also have to rise to the occasion?

Is this a typical male vs. female argument? That women are better planners and men just need to be told where and what to do in order to keep a relationship afloat? I for one refuse to buy into that gender norms crap. I think everyone has the ability to control their emotions (like how I try to) and improve their skills (like I think Timmy should). But it can’t happen without practice.

Before you think that I’m an exploding crazyass girlfriend, I will share with you that I know for a fact there are things I do that drive Timmy crazyface, and I have maybe not attempted to fix because I don’t see what the big deal is. Or maybe I like that thing about me that he can’t stand. Do either of our complaints or seeming apathy make us bad people not meant to be in a relationship with each other? Absolutely not. It makes us two different people trying to make a relationship work.

Either way, we’re not perfect beings without flaws. We will drive each other nuts sometimes, and that’s life.

compromiseIf we can all agree that it sucks sometimes to compromise, I think we’ll be ok. It works out in the end, and you just keep practicing and trying and working at it. I keep practicing at controlling myself, taking a breath, reminding myself that it’s not the end of the world if things don’t always go my way. It’s a part of being in a relationship, any kind of relationship, that oh-so-fun game of give and take.

But give me my watch, cause seriously, that shit drives me crazy.

♥, VB