Stroked Interference?

   
It has been two weeks. Well tomorrow will have been two weeks.  Two weeks since I was able to create a post.  I know it doesn't sound like much but it has really been a struggle.  I truly envy those people who can just sit down to their computers and whip out a post. 
    It’s not as if I haven't tried writing.  One night last week I couldn't sleep and had this idea for a post, ok it was a bit of a rant but I do know how much y'all love and are entertained by them.  For two hours I wrote and ranted about abuses and injustices.  It was great.  I headed to bed pleased with what I had written ready to do a final read in the morning then post it.  Thank heavens I have a routine of allowing a post to "stew" before sharing it with you.  My post was horrid.  It didn't read well, felt heavy and simply stank.
     I didn't have writer's block as there are a few topics bouncing around in my mind.  What seems to be the problem is my writing.  Prior to my stroke I avoided writing situations.  I could create a Christmas newsletter but it was real work.  Once it took me six weeks to finish an important letter.  That's how crazy I can get about writing and making sure the words can't be misinterpreted.  But what I'm experiencing now feels different.
     Writing has been a therapy for me since the stroke.  Finding my voice in a new way has been empowering.  Creating this blog and watching it grow and reach people has been a great ride which I don't believe is over in anyway shape or form.  To say it has been frustrating these last two weeks is a bit of an understatement.  This also means that I shared it with Maureen this week at Stress Therapy.  To be honest there are a number of stressful situations occurring at the moment.  Learning how my body handles and processes stress is the point of my working with Maureen.  Stress factors strongly contributed to my stroke in the first place so recognizing and handling new stress factors is very important. 
     What I don't understand is if writing helped me through recovery immediately after my stroke why would it not serve the same purpose now?  Why can't I find the words?  Why does my voice sound so different?  Is this some sort of warning?  Is body currently processing stress in such a way that I can't create?  Am I headed for another stroke?  As crazy as all of these questions sound I've spent a lot of time visiting each of them.  The scariest question is if all the hard word I've done has not helped what is there for me to do?
     So that is what I am bringing to you, my fears.  This blog was started to share my stroke recovery and this is a part of it.  I am terrified of having another stroke.  I know how fortunate I was the first time.  I also know that stress is a part of everyday life.  I have to somehow retrain my body in how it handles stress, and as of yesterday that's some 48 years of retraining.  Children do learn what they live and my childhood lessons regarding stress were to suck it up and just bend with the storm. 
     At Maureen's suggestion I am writing this post to be honest about recovery and how it has its setbacks, struggles and fears.  How recovery can at times be just as frustrating months in as it was in the beginning

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He only had time for the paying fans :0(

     Friday nights for my son, like most seniors equals Football!! Being a part of the school's Film Department that means being there early to set up cameras and such.  So as you can imagine I was a bit surprised when he came in the door at 4:45 saying that he was headed right back out with friends to Academy Sports.  Emmit Smith was at the store signing autographs. 

     Patrick and his friends were psyched to get a picture with Emmitt and hopefully his signature.  After waiting in line they were told that not only was Emmitt not posing for any pictures but he would only be signing copies of his new book, which they could purchase for $20. 

    Emmitt Smith for those of you who don't know was a UFlorida Gator, Dallas Cowboy, and winner of Dancing with the Stars.  After his football days he became a successful business enterpreneur in Dallas, TX and now he can add author to the list of his accomplishments.  With all of that being said I think it isn't presumptuous of me to say ~ the man is quite rich.

    When did "loving the fans" turn into "if you really love me show me the money"?  I abhore the paparazzi and believe that celebrities, athletes and such are entitled to their privacy.  However when those same people are out in public with the purpose of interacting with their fans how cheesy is it that they'll only smile for money?  The last thing my son and his two friends were intending to do was each spend $20 on Emmitt's new book and I guarantee you they won't be doing so anytime in the near future.

     I sometimes think when celebrities get to a certain point they truly forget where they came from.  Years ago the MLS Spring Training was held here in Florida.  We went down one weekend to see watch them train.  It was just like going to your kids' soccer game.  We set up chairs on the sidelines.  Chased after balls that went awry.  The players gladly posed for pictures whenever asked.  We had so much fun with the guys from L.A.  Galaxy invited our family to come back for another practice.  They even included our kids into their practice as I watched over their cell phones.  Weeks later they sent us a package filled with funs items.  Oh the players on that team wound up going to the world cup~ you might recognize the names Landon Donovan and Tim Howard.  My point is those guys were sincerely happy to interact with their fans. 

     Maybe celebrities like Emmitt Smith simply get to the point where they really don't need anymore fans like my son and his teenage friends when they have enough older fans who have deeper pockets. 

On a side note: not that it made a difference but my son was wearing his NJROTC PT uniform at the time. 

10 year plan? I don't know what I am doing tomorrow

   

I have been saying that in 10 years I am moving to England.  Well I guess I have said that once too many times to Maureen, my stress therapist, as she announced this week that it is time to start planning it or I have to stop talking about it ~ well isn't that money well spent!

   Seriously I am not a plan the future type of gal.  Heck the most advance planning I do are meals for two weeks, though I am an early Christmas shopper.  I know some people who plan vacations a year in advance, so not me.  Even when we visited England and France last year I made all the arrangements in the 2 months before we left.  This whole concept of planning what it will take to move to London and what I'll do when I am there NOW just feels as weird as putting on a wet bathing suit~ blech.

     Part of the idea is to start to remove the "fantasy" of what living in England brings with it.  Me, fantasy surely she must be mistaken.  Whatever would lead her to believe that I have any fantasy life at all?  Ok maybe my pronouncing myself royalty was a bit fantastical but can you blame me for that one? I don’t think so.

     So once a month I have to actually make some sort of progress on this plan.  Again am I actually paying for this taskmaster?  Here's where you get to come in ~ you didn't actually think I was going to do this on my own with a glorious group of readers such as yourself at my beck and call  assistance did you?  What's the point of being royalty if I can't pass my drudgeries share my new experiences with you?

Task number one: Where do I actually want to live? 

 Right now I am more into ruling places out rather than pin-pointing the exact whereabouts. Choosing the exact place will happen as the date is more pressing.

I know that I don't want to live:

• In London~ too expensive
• In Scotland ~ too North
• More than 2 hours by train from London
• somewhere that doesn't have a rail station
• In an overwhelmingly ex-pat community ~ kind of defeats the purpose a bit
• In Ireland ~ it’s not England pretty simple
• In an overwhelmingly Muslim community (see church need below)

Things I am unsure about:

• Do I want to live by the water
• If I do live close to water should it be east coast or west coast
• how small a community I want to live in
• Wales an option

Things I do know I want:

• An active Anglican Church in community
• Community welcoming to Americans
• Must have good bus/rail access
• A reasonable cost of living
• A small rental apt in a home not apartment building

My plan is to find myself a wall map of England and put it up on the back of my bedroom door.  When I discover a place I don't want to live in I'll cross it off on the map so I’ll slowly start narrowing things down.

I think that's enough pre-planning for this week don't you agree? 

So readers of this royal court: Any and all inputs are gloriously welcome.  Ta-ta for now.

Finding Beauty in Broken Pieces

I was recently given the opportunity to write my first book review:

     Seeing Life from a Broken Perspective.   A stained glass window is made up of broken pieces of glass.  Each piece needs to be smoothed and cut to fit into the artist’s planned design.  Once complete the finished product is most beautiful when filled with radiant sunshine. 

     Patsy Clairmont uses this imagery along with life experiences to show how each of us have within our hearts a beautiful masterpiece of color and shadow.  Each chapter of her book focuses on a different perspective of a how our hearts were broken in the first place.  Whether your brokenness is  due to personal relationships, tragedies or just the wear and tear of everyday life those pieces of your heart each contribute a beautiful and glorious color to your mosaic. 

Patsy ends each chapter with an Art Gallery.  Here you’ll find recommendations for paintings, museums, music and books to further explore the beauty of the creation of mosaics and how they apply to a stained glass perspective.

                Prior to reading this book I have never actually heard of Patsy Clairmont, which surprised many of my friends.  Patsy is known for her humorous approach to Christian life, this book does not fall into that category.  In the first few chapters you feel as if you are going to be taken on a journey with a dear friend.  Sharing deep emotions and how she’s overcome much of that hurt with her faith you are drawn to walk beside her.  By sharing these stories she enables the reader to find solace in the simple thought you are not alone.  

I received this book from Book Sneeze in exchange for my opinion.   

     

It is 6:45 I am driving what more do you want??

  Science has proven that you are either a night owl or an early bird.  Well I didn't need any documentation from studies in Europe to tell me that.  Plain and simple ~ I am a Night Owl!   I figured this out in college when I had door duty till 2am didn't bother me in the least.  Classes at 8:30AM ~~ those weren't pretty days at all.  8AM Open Vocal Lessons; let's just say the Royal Opera was never going to snatch me up.

     Fast forward 19 years. School mornings in our royal abode were never really the interactivities you often seen on TV.  I made sure all were up dressed, fed and off to the bus and that was about it.  Our mornings weren’t anything special but they worked and then it happened:  Em gets accepted into a Performing Arts high school, not across town but in another county. Translation: I have to get up and drive EVERY BLESSED Morning.  Now thank fully she could catch a bus at the "closest" high-school, a mere 40 minutes away w/morning traffic.  Em is like me in so many ways.... one being she's a night owl also.  We got into a routine down to the minute.  I got up 10 minutes before we leave throw on sweats, put hair in bun, take care of stuff.  We barely grunt to each other out the door. Once in the car the radio is turned to NPR. Em reclines her seat and goes to sleep.  40 minutes later wake her up when we arrive," love you have a great day" and she was off (to sleep on bus for the 35 minute ride to school).  When I got home I made sure other kids were off to school and back to bed I went.  Two years later Patrick also gets accepted to the art school.  First day or so he's chatty then realizes heck I can sleep... so there's 3 of us with this routine.  AKA quiet car mode.
   So if you're counting I followed that routine for the better part of 4 year, until Emily graduated.  At that time Patrick transferred back to his home school so he could participate in ROTC which surprisingly Arts schools don't support.  WOO HOOO my driving days are over, the bus stop is not even a 60 second walk to the corner. I just dodged two more years of driving at 6:45 in the morning!
  THEN not to miss out on the opportunity that her older siblings had Miss Meg decides to not attend her local high school with Patrick.  Oh No she wants to go the High School across the county for their TV Production and Pre-School academies.  So once again I am headed out the door at 6:45.
     Do you ever wonder if sometimes your kids aren't yours?  That they are so opposite that maybe the hospital made a mistake?  There are times I have to admit I look at Meg and say "who are you and where are your parents?"  She's up with the sun and happy in the morning ~EW!!  Ok yes I know she's mine but all I can think is when they delivered her emergency C-Section at 4pounds that all those tests and days in the NICU somehow messed up her internal clock. I know I can't prove it but that's the fact jack.
   The first two days of Meg High School I was in Alabama taking Em back to college so Dad who normally leaves for work @ 5am drives her.  Heck for him it was sleeping in, a treat if you think about it.  Seems they just had a glorious time talking about the day ahead and whatever.  Day three arrives and now Mom drives.  I have my 645 car routine and completely forget she's a newbie.  First thing she does is change the radio to some rock-my-car blow-my-ears-out station.  Then after I turn that off she starts talking.  Not yes, no, or grunt comments but questions that require multiple words to answer.  Does she not recognize who is behind the wheel?  Day four is a repeat and already I'm thinking maybe I should transfer back to her home school as the stress might be too much for her. I know, I know what you're thinking... smart move sane the sanity.   Thank heavens there were only four days that first week.
    Monday rolls around for the start of the new week.  Meg hops in the car puts on the radio and I stop the car; then in the most loving supportive tone that I can muster at 645 I looked at her and said ~ Sweetheart I am so glad you're going to XX High School.  We are going to have time in the car every morning for the next four years.  That time is going to be quiet time.  You can rest back, review notes for the day, heck you can even text your friends.  But what it isn't going to be is Mommy Chat Time.  She looked at me and said ~thank god I didn't want to be rude just sleeping on the way to school and with that she reclined her seat. 
!!! YEAH she is my child after all!      

BTW we have wonderful chats at 2:45 in the afternoon when I pick her up :0)