I should have realized last week when I wanted a salad for lunch and I ended up having a greek salad with grilled chicken and fire feta. I even ventured to a Sprout’s Market not too long ago. And yes, that is a supermarket as healthy as its name, with tons of fruits, vegetables, and all manner of organic meats and goods. Last night I stopped off at the grocery store for ground sirloin to make spaghetti Tuesday night, headed straight for the produce department and bought strawberries (on sale!), apples, a grapefruit, an orange, cucumber, onions, bell peppers and a bag of spring mix salad. It’s been ages since I’ve physically craved fruits and vegetables. I made a salad with my leftover pizza for dinner last night. Then it hit me… Spring is coming! Every year about this time my body starts wanting healthier foods and home cooked meals. Hence, spaghetti on tonight’s menu and strawberry shortcake for dessert. What I’m especially pleased about is the soaking of the fruit in a vinegar cleaning solution and slicing up the strawberries without sugar as I used to prepare them in the past, to make them syrupy sweet.

I’ve been exhausted all week with the stupid time change. It’s affecting my sleep pattern for some reason, making it difficult to fall asleep without lying in bed, tense with my mind racing- about NOTHING! I continually have to force deep breathing and active relaxation, but then my mind goes off on a tangent and I’m back to tensing up again. As you can imagine, having been extra tired this week, work has literally been hell. My tolerance level and ability to effectively multi-task is pretty much non-existent. Management keeps scheduling department meetings that take us away from our desks for an hour or two, which is a large block of time with the workloads we are responsible for. I’m back to having thoughts of quitting and cashing in my 401K. Honestly, if I thought it was large enough to do what I want to do and work part-time, I would. But it’s not that large and I’m not that smart with my money. Which is a blessing really.

This is the restless, reawakening of Springtime that I experience every year, coupled with my soul’s restless, reawakening journey to my true self. How brutally cool is that? So here’s what the fuck I’m going to do about it. Eat the yummy fresh fruits and veggies I’m craving. Prepare the healthy home cooked meals I’m craving. Get the god damn sleep I need. Ease my way back to Yoga and hiking/walking because I still haven’t been back to class since I went down with the flu last week. Go with the new flow of Spring awakening and adjust to the new Spring energy. There is simply no other alternative.

Is there anything better than reconnecting and recharging when you’ve been feeling disconnected and depleted? Especially when you can be honest and authentic with yourself and others about where you are. After posting my last blog early Saturday morning, my first call of the day was from my best friend, who actually said these words to me, “How dare you write about my life and post it to your blog”. By the way, she was one of the main folks I was feeling disconnected from as well. She is super de duper busy with a convention she helps put on every year at this time. So it was just absolutely perfect that she seemed to be going through something eerily similar. We talked deeply and personally to catch each other up before moving on to our busy Saturdays. Since I was resting and recuperating from the flu I was able to make it to an old 12 step meeting I used to attend religiously before I started going to Yin Yoga class last summer. The meeting felt just as good as Dawny’s morning phone call. I made plans with a good friend to try out a great new restaurant called the Breakfast Republic. It was a fabulous little place with fantastic food and I got to catch up/reconnect with another friend. The rest of the weekend went similarly. I made it to two more meetings, got an errand or two done, and did a couple of chores around the house. Light stuff that didn’t wipe me out like a few loads of laundry and cleaning the kitchen Sunday night.

Today I had an honest and productive session with my kick-ass therapist. I was up front with her about referring to our therapeutic relationship as the “long goodbye” in my latest blog. I told her things felt disjointed because we had not been able to get into a solid rhythm with regular appointments. She admitted she felt the same way. We discussed her new job and schedule, along with the fact that she doesn’t live in our town anymore. Plus we may need to switch our sessions back to Thursdays again starting in April. The truth is neither of us is ready to move on from our therapeutic relationship yet. So we will take things as they come for now. With that tackled I was able to talk with her about what else had been happening for the past month since we’d seen each other. I gained some clarity about a few things moving forward and explored a growing level of comfort and confidence I developed with the truths and insights from my writing and by extension, my inner wisdom. All the while admitting I still revert back to some familiar dysfunctional coping mechanisms like emotional eating and mini television binges. For this, my therapist reminded me to be gentle and compassionate with myself as there will always be the potential to go back to old familiar ways as long as I don’t stay there.

This leaves me wanting to finish up my blog by taking it back to the A-Z Mindful Living email series with Ellie Hodges. I stopped at P for Pause. A great new friend suggested I “embrace” my P for Pause last week and that is just what I did. In a huge way that didn’t necessarily involve me completely checking out of my life or my activities. It involved me slowing down and participating in different activities at an easier, more manageable pace. At a more mindful pace. As I stated in my first sentence of the blog, I am feeling reconnected and recharged because I paused. Then I read what her email had to say about Pausing tonight and it was uncanny how much of it applied to what I’d recently gone through. I shared my experience about it in our A-Z Mindful Living closed Facebook group. Because I’m learning that ‘it’s never too late’ can apply to just about anything. How awesome is that?

“Nothing hath separated us from God but our own will, or rather our own will is our separation from God”– William Law

The support of friendships, guidance from counselors, and my willingness to trudge into a life of presence and awareness has fueled the momentum for the latest direction my life has taken. Because of that, I’ve felt connected, loved, and supported for most of this process. Yet there have been times when I’ve felt quite alone on this journey. For instance, when I drove up to Los Angeles for the book launch of “Shades of Blue, Writers on Depression, Suicide and Feeling Blue”. Or when I drove to Ojai for Jen Pastiloff’s New Years Manifestation Retreat. Or when I attended The Big Island Writers Workshop in Van Nuys. Each of those examples was an opportunity that seemed to dictate I face and experience them on my own. I did and each time it led me to a deeper understanding of myself and new connection with others outside of my world, thereby expanding it. In those instances, it was easy to see how being pulled to do things on my own helped me.

Recently I’ve been experiencing feelings of disconnect and separation from people I usually feel connected to in my life. It’s like I don’t belong anywhere anymore and that is just ridiculous. Even writing my blog posts makes me feel alone. In the beginning, I would call my best friend and use her as a sounding board because back then I was unsure and insecure about what I wrote. I still get insecure and unsure, I’ve just gotten better at ignoring that feeling while gaining some confidence in expressing my truth, whatever it may reveal itself to be. Tonight, it’s acknowledging I feel separate, isolated.

Let’s take stock then. I haven’t been to yoga class in a week because I’ve had the flu. There were some issues that arose in my 12 step community that has led me to feel uncomfortable and a little self-protective with some individuals. It also seems like my relationship with my kick-ass therapist has turned into the ‘long goodbye’. She was back in town, for a minute and we had a couple of sessions. Then I got an email from her informing me she ‘got the job’ and would be training in Mexico for 10 days so we had to cancel our last appointment. I’m supposed to meet with her this Monday if that doesn’t change. It’s like getting back together with a boyfriend after you’ve broken up and it’s just not quite the same. Even at work, I feel that way. Since my friend retired and they moved my other co-worker to a different cubicle, I’ve felt like the odd man out.

Which again seems ridiculous because I do have good friends at work who care about me. For instance, when I got back to work Thursday from being out sick, my dear angel friend, Kimmie left me a goodie package of amazing teas for me to drink. I’m signed up to do a 5K Race For Autism with two other good friends, Karina and Jocelyn, next weekend and we plan to go out to breakfast afterwards. My ex-husband called last night to talk because we never get to see each other now that the kids are grown and most of them on their own. Our middle son, Lyndon mentioned my blog to him so he wanted to talk about that and a few other things. It was good to catch up with him. He has some great plans for the future that may involve an opportunity for me when I’m certified to teach yoga and as a Life Coach. My youngest sister, Megan, called today to talk about Aunt Mungie’s funeral service and reminisce about Daddy’s side of the family. It was a great call because I hadn’t talked to her in a while.

Perhaps then, in Pausing this weekend, I should use the time to reconnect with myself and God? That usually then filters out into connecting to others in my life.

I am currently down with that yucky flu going around. I believe I caught it from someone at work because several co-workers came to work with it. Due to the fairly recent change at work from accrued sick time to PTO (paid time off) many of us just can’t afford to stay home more than a day or two while battling this particularly tenacious bug. So we end up infecting each other because we work in  a cubicle petri dish environment. I felt it coming on this past Saturday and it just got worse and worse. I spent most of Sunday in bed and dragged myself to work Monday and Tuesday. But by Tuesday, my ribs and upper back were killing me from a persistent, hacking cough and my energy was pretty much non-existent. I spent close to a quarter of that day in the bathroom, resting more so than anything else. After another night of alternately dosing myself with TheraFlu and coughing which woke me up when it wore off, I just couldn’t make it into work on Wednesday.

I know being at home sick is not the best time to assess my progress with “building my brave” or “working towards my work and life Mission”, but when your energy is this low, there is a certain level of honesty that you just can’t ignore or distract yourself from. Even before I got sick I could feel myself struggling with what to write here in my blog on a regular basis, with gathering the energy and enthusiasm with my yoga practice and most especially with continuing the A-Z Mindful Living email series. Which by the way, I still have not completed and stalled on the letter “P” for Pause. For whatever reason, since we switched the day of the week that we normally talk, I’ve only been remembering to connect and call my spiritual advisor every OTHER week. Like right now, it’s almost 9 pm and I just realized tonight is the night we should have talked and I can’t remember if we talked last week. I think we did. Shit… So it feels like I am losing my way. Actually based on my actions I am slacking. I’m feeling a sense of disappointment in myself and since I’m being honest, also a lack of faith and commitment. Not sure when or where it started but it’s here.

I am such a hot, sick mess right now that even I understand I need to give myself a break. But when I got over this flu? I need to call on accountability, responsibility and just plain willingness to get past this. Willingness to face some health issues I’ve been ignoring, willingness to be responsible for working on my spiritual conditioning and willingness to recommit. I mean, what else is there to do? If nothing else, my journey has taught me that going back is not the solution. It’s getting to the path again. 

My mom called Thursday night to tell me my Aunt Mungie, who lives back East, passed away earlier that evening. She is one of my late father’s surviving four sisters that I wrote about in a previous blog titled The Queens From Whence I Came. She was a private person so I won’t go into detail about her passing, but she had a chronic medical condition and a few other diagnoses the past few years that were just too much to overcome. I knew she wasn’t doing well. I knew it, but I had not spoken to her in years because I didn’t pick up the phone to call her. Not even when my mom called a short while ago to tell me Aunt Mungie had had a stroke and was asking for me and my sister Michelle, who live in California.  I can’t really tell you why I didn’t call her. Part of my thinking was that I didn’t have my cousin Debbie or Dawn’s phone numbers. But I found out when I called them this weekend that their numbers were on my cell phone. If I’m being honest I was probably afraid to call her after so much time and maybe I didn’t want to have to face how sick she’d become. She was an awesome aunt and the center of her family unit. She was such an active dynamo right up until she physically couldn’t be. She was irascible, never a complainer, a straight shooter with a great sense of humor. You never doubted her love and concern. Her daughters were part of a passel of big cousins I looked up to as a girl and as a woman. It was too late to start calling back East Thursday night so I went to bed. I woke up to a private Facebook message from one of my sisters, who lives back East.

Let me explain that I have five sisters and 1 brother. We are all the children of my father, Billy Harty. I was raised by my mother with my sister, Michelle, who is five years younger than me. My mom married my Dad out of high school then left him when I was 7 or 8 years old. My brother, Bobby, is the oldest grew up with his family in Pennsylvania, without my our Dad. There are three sisters, Yana, Megan, and Myla, who lived with their mom, Teri and Daddy until his death in 1998. I have another sister Rena, who was born and raised in San Francisco with her mom, Marilyn and for a very brief time, Daddy. Daddy was the “glue” connecting us to his side of the family when he was alive. He took the initiative to take Teri and the girls to family functions. He flew Rena out to Pennsylvania for a few weeks every summer to get to know her sisters. He stayed in touch with his own sisters. He kept me and my sister Michelle informed on what was going on with his family. Then he died in 1998. Michelle and I went back for his funeral. Rena’s mother sent her back too. It was the first time all of his children had been together in one place. It was surreal. I reconnected with all of my aunts, uncles, cousins and old family friends. Then I lost my connection to them for 10 years.

Getting back to my sister’s private message Friday. She was heartbroken over Aunt Mungie and overwhelmed with guilt for not seeing the family over the years. She wanted me to know, in case the sky opened up tomorrow, that she loved me. I was so moved by her message and I could relate to the guilt. I urged her to love the ones who are in her life now, that it’s never too late and, of course, I loved her too. Plus, she was the only relative from back East that has read and acknowledged my blog. We keep connected through Facebook. Friday night after work, I dove into my tub of photos and found all of the pictures I took when I went back for Daddy’s funeral. The emotion and grief overtook me when I found that first picture of Aunt Mungie standing next to Aunt Marie in Marie’s kitchen because everyone gathered at Marie’s house every day. I spent Friday evening posting pictures to my Facebook page of my Aunts with their children, my cousins with #FlashbackFriday. I normally compose my blogs the night before they post. For Saturday, I decided to put up a link to a previous post about my paternal grandmother, my aunts and my mother with a sentence about love and legacy with a small tribute to Aunt Munge.

Saturday morning I woke up and following my own advice to my sister, I called Aunt Marie. I don’t know why I was so nervous or concerned, it was an amazing call. I got to listen as Aunt Marie talked about Aunt Munge’s last days because Aunt Marie and Aunt Munge’s best friend went over every day to help with her. Aunt Marie is a character and she was able to share some of the lighthearted moments as well as some of the heavier truths about the reality of caring for and connecting with her sister. I got filled in on the family. My next call was to Aunt Marva, who surprised me by reminding me that she keeps tabs on me through Facebook. We talked about how big my grandbabies are getting and how beautiful they are. She was as kind, considerate and reassuring as ever with not an ounce of censure for not calling for so long. From my Aunt Patty, I found out Aunt Munge had made all of her funeral and service arrangements, including full payment back in 1998. The year Daddy died.

Throughout the weekend I received a call from my middle child, Lyndon, to see if I was ok and to talk for a little bit. I talked to my Mom Friday night and my sister Michelle Saturday morning. This morning I received another private message from the same sister back East. She’d called and spoken to Aunt Marie too. She was feeling a lot better and thanked me for encouraging her with my message that it’s never too late.