Living Brave

I am doing my best to live brave.  To conquer what it is that holds me back.  As I do I find that it in some respects it gets a little easier to step into the brave.  And with these bravery steps joy is slipping in. Actual joy. I am liking this.

A couple of Wednesdays ago I put on a pair of roller skates for the first time in probably 25 years.  Can I just tell you that roller skating is NOT like riding a bike.  Your muscles do not remember what to do to keep your body upright.  Age and gravity are also very unhelpful to this staying upright process.  In my head I knew what to do, but my body, mind, and the wheels were not working as a cohesive team.  I only fell once.  I made it around the rink twice.  Then I put my shoes back on. Twenty minutes was long enough.  I think I may even try again sometime.




A few years I ago I would never have even tried.  The fear of failure and embarrassment of falling as well as the fear of physical pain would have kept me on the sidelines.  


Later that same night several friends and I went to our local Applebee's for karaoke.  Normally I am just a spectator or a group singer, nowhere near the microphone, just standing down there with the group, can't really hear me kind of a group singer.  Never would I get up and attempt to sing on my own.  Putting a microphone in my hand is means for an instant panic attack.  However, that night I went up and sang...

              ...............ON MY OWN................. 
                                                                                         (meaning by myself, not the song "On My Own").


 Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!    Yes, I did!  Not just once, but twice!

So, what changed?

My perspective.  I quit caring (as much) if I made a fool out of myself.

I also made friends who supported me and lifted me up.  I had a cheering section.  They didn't care if I fell, or went flat.  They cared about me and they made me feel like I could do it and even if I couldn't they would still be there. I surrounded myself with support.

Now, it isn't that I have never had people in my life who would do that before, I know that if I had let people in, that they would have been there for me.  I never gave anyone the chance to be the support I needed.  I had to learn how to let them in before I could open up.  I also needed to learn that I am okay. Just the way I am.  I don't have to measure up to some imaginary bar in my head.  Who I am is good enough.  That is huge.  Learning that didn't happen over night. It has been a process of small little steps to get here.  I am still learning it.  Walking it out daily.  Also I learned that if someone wasn't there for me when I needed them to be that it wasn't a reflection on me.  That is where they were.

Another thing I have learned is that when I open myself up it is giving permission for the other person to open up as well and that is when JOY comes in.

Live brave friends, one step and one day at a time.  You are enough.  Just where you are and who you are.  Take chances.  Get messy.  Fall on your butt.  Sing off key.  Take that next step.  Find your cheering section. Be someone else's cheering section.

It took 40 years for me to get here, but here I am and I am loving it!

Practice Falling Down

My youngest daughter, who is 10, was asked to go to roller skating lessons with her friend a few months back. She really enjoyed it, so she stuck with it.  A couple months ago my middle daughter, 13, asked to join her.  She took to the skates like fish to water.  She was hooked.  She saved up her babysitting money in order to pay for half of her own pair of skates.  She chose a pair that was a little nicer than basic, but not so nice to break the bank. (Competitive roller skates can run upwards of $1000.)  She then also bought a pair of used skates, fully at her own expense, to practice at home with.

My youngest daughter, though she enjoys skating does not take to it with the same exuberance or natural athletic ability.  This has been hard for her.  Currently she has decided she doesn't want to go for now, at least not until she gets new skates. Her skates seem to pull and they can't fix them from doing that.  Now whether that pull is her skates or her feet I am not sure. I offered to rent skates until new ones can be purchased, but that won't cut it for her.  

The rink where they skate has a Club feature, for $60 a month you can have unlimited access to the rink when it is open, you get Saturday morning group lessons, and you get access to the rink during club skate times.  Along with this you get a private lesson once a week with a separate fee for the instructor.  All together it comes out to around $120 a month with a 1 year commitment (or until we move).  Kalen was super excited about all the skate times she could use as our house has limited skating room.  The deal was that she had to pay for half of it same as with the skates.  She was willing and excited to do it.

Today is her first private lesson and of being a part of the club.  

Watching the group lessons I noticed something interesting. The instructors have the children practice falling down.  The reason for this is three fold: first, so that they learn the safest possible way to fall to limit injuries; secondly, so that they learn how to get up; and thirdly to take the fear out of falling, because falls are inevitable.

They practice falling down.

That just resonates in my soul.  

Practice falling down 

The practice takes the shame and the fear out of the falling.

Falls in life are inevitable, but what if we could practice falling down in a way that is safe and shameless?  

What if we were taught how to minimize the impact of our falls and then the best way to get back up from them?

What would that look like worked out in my own life, in my children's lives, in all of our lives?  I don't really know, but it is worth thinking about.

Five Minute Friday: Still

*I never time myself for five minute Fridays.  I let the word lead me for however long it leads.*

I find that even with all the strides I have taken this year and how far I have come from where I was I am STILL me.  I STILL have the same under lying issues that I have always had.  I STILL struggle.

Some days, months, seasons even I struggle more than others.  This is that season.  The season when I have to push down even harder on all the things that try and push their way out of me.  All the unknown memories that tease me from the shadows.  The little girl trying to be heard, seen, remembered from behind her prison.  The little girl that has me clinging tight to a teddy bear at night.  

I push down hard on what is pushing up and burrow deeper into blankets and solitude.  Shutting myself off even when surrounded by people.  Closing in.  Walling off.

And the anger is there.  Anger at me. Anger at them (whoever the them is who feels too close to my walls, or let me down, or who makes for a good distraction from all the pushing that is going on inside.)  I don't lash out at most of them I just let it all reverberate inside of me.  Most of the time because I know the anger is petty and more of a me issue than a them issue.  

I STILL do all of this, but I am getting better at knowing and recognizing it.  Seeing it for what it is and acknowledging it.  I am also better at not completely hiding away from the world.  I am planning, and hosting, and not shaming myself for the internal pushing. 

I am working on showing up even when I want to hide away.  I am giving myself grace for when I can't force myself to show up.  I am working on giving others grace for their lack of understanding, and grace for the fact that some things could solely be my perception and not the reality.

I am STILL a work in progress.  Still working, still progressing.  

Still hurting, still wounded, still healing, still learning.

"Be still and know that I am God"

Psalm 46:10

I will sit in stillness and also IN my "STILL-ness" and know that God is God.  He has me in all of my stillness, no matter which meaning of still that I mean.  And I will let Him reign over it all.

Learning the art of bravery

What is Bravery?

Bravery can look like a lot of things to a lot of people.

I don't think bravery can be defined the same way for every person.

Brave for me means stepping out of my comfort zone, choosing to ignore the tapes that play in my head, and forging a new path.

This month has been a month of brave for me.

I set off on a faith journey to the distant land of........ O-hi-o. 

I forged new roads, made new tapes, and I met some great people.

Let me take you back a bit to a little over a year ago, because that is where this story of bravery really starts.

As I was reading the comments of a blog I saw my name and thought, "when did I comment on this?"  It was not me though, but another Karmen with a K.  I was thrilled and had to let her know I existed. This was my first step of brave; putting myself out there and introducing myself.

From there we began an online friendship through facebook and our blogs.

The more I learned about her the more I wanted to meet her.

I battled the tapes in my head telling me that I am not worth getting to know and broached the topic of meeting.  She was game, so we made a plan.

At O Dark thirty in the morning, otherwise known as 4 am, on Friday October 3rd I hopped into my husband's truck and started my long drive from CT to Ohio.

Sometimes, you don't even realize that you are being brave.

On the trip out there I was following the gps on my phone.  I had programmed it the night before to avoid tolls as much as possible and also to get me there via the fastest route possible while also avoiding New York.  As I was driving along in the dark through all the construction my gps told me that it had a new route that would get me there 1.5 hours faster.  That is a lot of faster so I pushed the reroute button without a thought.  It wasn't until I was driving through Jersey and the sun was coming up that I realized that I had just driven right smack dab through New York City.  Right smack dab through it! I was brave and survived it without even realizing where I was at the time and that I was even being brave.

Allowing someone else to do the leading let me conquer something that if left to my own devices I never would have thought I could do.  (Bigger life application inserted here.)  I was big and brave and stronger than I thought!  I felt like Super Woman in a white pick up truck.

As the hours and miles went by I would push out the creeping thoughts of "what if she doesn't really want me to be there?" or "what if they think I am weird for coming all this way?"  and would replace them with how I would feel if someone were to think so much of me to do the same.

That is another step of brave, hearing the old tapes, ignoring them, and recording new tapes to replace them and then play those.  And not just play them, but choose to believe them.

When I pulled up she came out and we hugged like old friends and I was welcomed into her home with the ease and comfort of walking into my own.  Her daughters were also wonderful, engaging, and also inviting.

Her sweet dog, Nigel, and I made fast friends. The day I wore capris he couldn't stop licking my legs, I think all the sugar I consume must make me taste extra sweet.  If I could have brought him home with me I would have, he is just the sweetest little guy.  I mean seriously how could you not fall in love with this face?

That night we went to dinner and  I got to meet many of her friends, all of them were just as lovely as they appear to be on her blog.

It was kind of surreal actually.  Imagine one of your favorite books, now imagine getting to step into that world for a weekend and live in it with all of the characters from that book.  That is kind of what it felt like, but not, because, you know, they are all real people.

I loved being allowed into her world, wanted even.  

Although a  part of me wondered if before I had come she was like, "Hey, friends, come have dinner with this lady in case she is a total nut case and I need back up!", but I told myself that it was probably more like, "Oh my gosh the other Karmen is coming and she is so Ah MAy Zing that you must come and dine with her, because it would be selfish to keep this much awesome to myself!"  

I am guessing that the truth actually lies somewhere in the middle of those two.  

The whole weekend felt easy and wonderful.  I felt able to be myself.  Even when being myself included dumping insane amounts of ice all over her kitchen floor, because the ice had not been falling into my water bottle like I had thought and instead was backing up into the chamber from whence it came, so when I pulled my bottle away all the ice fell everywhere.  (If there is a way for me to make a mess and be a klutz at the same time, you can bet I will find it.)  Or the time when I was getting ready in the morning I whacked the towel bar with my arm and sent the rod clanging, LOUDLY to the tile floor.  Myself is a bit loud, and messy, and imperfect and it all felt OKAY.  (Another brave, accepting me as being me and not belittling myself for it.)

When bravery changes your armor.

On Sunday, I went with them to church.  I was new, but I didn't feel it.  Everyone was so welcoming and warm, I was greeted with hugs and smiles.  During the service I felt right at home. That to me is the mark of a good church.  No matter what denomination it is, if it is God loving and Bible preaching the same Spirit should be present within it.  If it is, then it will feel like home, even if the "decor" is slightly different.

By Sunday night it felt as though Karmen and I were old friends.  Chatting freely and deeply.  At one point her husband came into the Kitchen and said that we were in there solving all the worlds problems.  We were.  Get ready world, Karmen and Karmen for President & Vice President 2016!  (okay not really, but we would be awesome!  We could throw the world an awesome party and solve all its issues at the same time. Of course I am too much of a flighty creative to hunker down and get to business, so it is probably better if I just stick to blogging and kitchen table conversations.)

When I came back home my Sister told me I was brave for going.  I was, and I am.  I am brave.

It is an evolving bravery.

It is giving me a new armor.  It is a process of shedding my old armor of walls and fear and replacing it with an acceptance and comfort of who I am.  And with this new armor I am gaining with it an army. An army of people who also accept me and bring me comfort and who are helping me to remove those walls that I hid behind and are inviting me to go with them into this brave new world of freedom to be m.y.s.e.l.f.