Ten plus ten . . .

This one's going to be a little different.   I got thinking about something I saw on facebook about tagging and how, when you get tagged, you're supposed to write 25 things about yourself that no one knows.  And then I thought, there are negative things that I think about myself that no one knows and what if I could turn them into positives.   I think they call that therapy.  I chose ten things.

For instance, I have stretch marks.  Ugly looking things that have created a veritable road map of my body. A purple puckered mess where my skin was pulled beyond it's limits.

The positive, badges of honour.  Battles scars of a sort.  A reminder that I gave birth to three amazing children.  Not to be taken lightly.  Each a blessing and a reminder of the incredible gifts I was given.

I cry over Hallmark commercials, songs on the radio, and sad and happy movies.  Pathetic and perhaps a sign that I may need a therapist.  Or maybe, it means I have a heart and feel things differently than those who don't turn into weeping messes over the “based on a true story” films.

Some nameless, faceless person in my past decided the nickname “The Book” or (if one was feeling particularly nasty) “The Answer Book” would suit me.  This was crushing at the time.  Now, though, I laugh out loud.  I work for a library system.   I have access to so many books and not enough time to read them all.  Words are amazing and have power.  Not “take over the world and make someone feel like a lesser person” kind of power – although, I suppose, one could do that if they wanted to.  Power to teach children, to learn and to understand, to make people laugh and smile, to make peace where there is turmoil (if only I was better at this particular skill).

I really like food.  I think about it more than I should and I struggle daily with how much of what should I put into my mouth.  My weight shows me that I have not learned how to stop obsessing about it.  I am learning though.   I feel like I am getting it.  I posted about a doctor visit that had me doing the “Ugly Cry” when I got home.  And then I got mad.  Mad can be a motivating place to be.   I started walking and have lost 30 pounds.  My blood sugars and cholesterol levels have come down into the normal range.  As has my blood pressure.  Positive things to be sure, but I still have some way to go.

I want a pair of “Cowgirl Boots”. . . . You can stop laughing now.  When I was about 12 or 13 my feet were, very briefly, the same size as my mom's.  She had a pair of soft tan, suede, embroidered, cowgirl boots.  I wore them and it was fun.  I felt so grown up and cool . . . . stop laughing.  I want to feel like that again.  Like I could conquer the world in those kick-butt boots.  There was a level of confidence that worked it's way up and out of me.  Nothing and no one was going to get in my way.  Maybe for this one I really do need a therapist . . .

My least favourite chore is dusting.  I have never enjoyed it, but at least when I was doing it for my mom I got paid.  Now, I just have to do it, but I don't like it.  I like when it's clean, though.  And given that I react to anything that gets in my eyes, it's something I have to do regularly.  The positive, my house is mostly clean.

I consider this one to be a bit naughty and a wee bit sick and twisted.  There is certain amount of glee that occurs when I watch someone going into road rage mode.  The guy in the fast car behind me that can't get around because there is a grandpa beside me doing less than the speed limit and I like to stay just at the speed limit.  He starts getting all twitchy.  Then when he gets by he ends up stuck behind a slow moving truck and starts getting really agitated and his arms start flailing.  I just laugh.  And laughter is always good, right?

I have an excess of pillows.  I really like pillows.  Where is the negative and where is the positive?  They cause strife on occasion.  There are a few that are MINE.  Not his.  Mine.  I put certain pillow cases on them to identify them as mine.  I do not share these ones and do not try to take them or you will find yourself rudely awakened with mild case of whiplash – MINE.  I sleep really well and that is always a good thing.

I move things (large pieces of furniture) around with some regularity.  I believe it is called nesting.  My husband calls it insane.  It makes him crazy when he comes home and his house has been rearranged.  Think “I never had to worry about smashing my shin on THAT piece of furniture before.”   I must be somewhat sadistic, because I find it funny that he gets so twisted up about it.  The positive, change is good.

Grey hairs and wrinkles.  They are a happening.  It is strange to look in the mirror and see that this is my fate.  Inside, when I am not looking in a mirror, I feel like I could be sixteen still.  Tack onto that twenty plus years of experiences that I wouldn't change (well maybe a few things) and the physical aches and pains of getting older and I quickly remember that – yes – I am almost forty.  Put me a car with my mom and the music cranked loud and I can still be a crazy twenty year old singing at the top of my lungs and having a great time – until my kids ask us to turn the music down.  So I generously give to the hair dye and face cream companies and feel like I am helping to support someone else on their journey, wherever it may take them.

Truly, in all things, I am blessed.  And so I go, mostly joyfully through my days.  Grateful and thankful.