Climbing Fearless!!

Yes, I am quoting Hannah Montana. I have a six year old girl at home. Shoot me.

I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming but
There's a voice inside my head sayin,
You'll never reach it,
Every step I'm taking,
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking
but I Got to keep trying
Got to keep my head held high
There's always going to be another mountain
I'm always going to want to make it move
Always going to be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I'm gonna to have to lose,
Ain't about how fast I get there,
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb...

There's been a lot of climbing lately. A lot of journey with not a lot of destination. A lot of keeping my head down and pushing through, knowing there is a finish line somewhere down the road but that the only way to get there is to put one foot in front of the other and keep...well..climbing... the summit will arrive at some point.

I took a job. The perfect job? Well, no, but at this job I can gain valuable experience that will allow me to deal with what ever walks in my door as a social worker. It also gives the State what they need in order to deem me worthy of opening up a private practice next year. So I climb upward and onward trying to keep myself open to the experiences I am being offered. And of course there are many. I've never worked with the chronically mentally ill before. Everyday they inspire me. I knew I would learn a lot...but be inspired? It never crossed my mind. And yet, there it is, as I watch them reach for a brief lucid moment, or fight off psychosis...I am inspired. And I love it. In the past week and a half I have made memories that will last a lifetime, and I am just beginning!

Tomorrow I run my first 5K since surgery. The climb to this summit has been equal parts heart wrenching and heart lifting! I guess that makes it WHOLEhearted! :) I have learned so much the past seven months. One thing I have learned is the depth of my own strength both mental and physical. I have never thought of myself as physically strong person. But getting out there and fighting my way for every step I can and refusing to let the six inch war wound on my chest stop me showed me just how much strength I have. Who knew. Somebody this week suggested that my next challenge should be a triathlon and I thought "yeah, I could do that!" Before surgery my first thought would have been, "yeah, NOT in a million fecking years could I do something like that?!" After surgery however it doesn't seem out of the realm of possibility.

The climb is merely showing up. Showing up to run and put one foot in front of the other.

Being Braver

So I climbed into my hip suit and my cool SUV and headed out to my first job interview. They offered me the position right then and there. I was floored. I had some major concerns about what having a job that far from home (1hr 15min) would do to the kids. For 24 hrs I went back and forth..everything else about the job fit: the money, the fact it was clinical and would count toward license, sounded good. I didn't even mind the drive. If you live in Houston, chances are you commute. An hr commute is prob the norm. Then I did the math. The kids would need to be dropped off by 6:45am and would not be picked up until 5:30pm. Dude, that is a lot of hours! No matter how great the job sounded I couldn't wrap my mind around nor could I justify leaving my kids for that long. I got scared that this was the only job I would ever be offered and I should just count myself lucky that somebody would hire me at all. Maybe I should just shut up and take the dang job. I just couldn't though. Couldn't do it.

In the end I called them and declined the offer. I did however tell them that I would be willing to work contract. I would be willing to work a couple full days a week, including Sat, or mornings, or afternoons, but I really need to be there either in the mornings or afternoons for the kids. I can't drop them off half asleep at daycare and see them only in the evenings to nuke some corndogs and pray homework has been done already.

This brings up a lot of shame issues for me. I have NEVER felt like a good mom. Not ever. Most times I feel that my kids are working out some horrible karma by being entrusted to my care. It seems like everyone else has it so much more together than I do. I really need to keep reminding myself that we all have issues and challenges and I'm probably not as horrible as I think I am. I mean, hey, Caleb is officially a teenager and STILL talks to me. Must be doing something right! :)

Being Brave

Okay...so here I go. All this talk about being brave and fearless will be put to the test tomorrow as I venture out to the other side of the universe (otherwise known as Northwest Houston) for my first social work job interview. I was lucky enough after graduation two years ago to get hired on at my intership so I never had to endure the hell that is the "job search." Now it is coming back to bite me on the butt.

My friend Lindsay got my resume together for me and badgered me until I finally sent it out. Now I have an interview. And wouldn't you know it, she is in Seattle and has no idea that she has left me to interview alone...she will pay!!

Went to Anne Taylor and bought a hip (although about three sizes larger than I would have liked) interview suit. Have my Coach bag and Italian pumps ready to go. I will look good even if I totally bomb the interview. I have printed out a pic of the doc "kicking and shaking boots" and tucked into my purse to remind myself that I CAN be brave and terrified at the same time.

Okay. Deep breath. Here we go.

Superpower!

(From Brene Brown's I Thought it Was Just Me read-a-long)

What is my superpower? Well, back when I was nursing Zoë, I had a t-shirt that said "I make milk! What is YOUR superpower?!" Loved that t-shirt. Totally freaked the Stepford Wives out here in Clear Lake. Now that my breastfeeding days are far, far, far behind me (Zoë is now six) I'm not sure I have a superpower.

As a therapist I have a knack for understanding motives behind my client's actions. Especially between parents and children and couples. It's like I can step back, and see "the big picture" However, any therapist worth a dang should be able to do that, so while it is a skill I'm proud of and think I'm good at, not sure it qualifies as a SUPERpower.

So I started thinking about WHAT I wanted my superpower to be. I want to be brave. I want super-duper-braveness powers…the power to be fearless…then I remembered something Brene said in the last podcast…about being scared and brave at the same time.

That is my superpower! To be in two states at once and finally realizing that I don't have to be one or the other and allowing myself to be vulnerable to be both (to integrate and not alternate thanks, Brene…again!) is a very good thing.

Because you have to be brave and totally terrified when you:
Skip out on a graduate program the semester before graduation and go for something else!
Try to have another baby with the memory of PPD still stinging.
Send out a resume for the first time after being out of work for six months
Learn to ski at the age of 31
Karaoke
Do play therapy with young children who have been abused
Run after open heart surgery.

My outfit is comprised of a red cape, and these really cool Doc Martens boots to kick butt in and shake in!

Running Fearless

I'm signing up to run my first 5k since open heart surgery! It is a small one April 18th to raise money for our local high school band. I'm posting it here to keep me honest!

I started running about five years ago. I bought a jogging stroller strapped my daughter in and hit the pavement. I was hooked almost immediately, interesting, since I do not have an athletic bone in my body, but there is something about getting lost in the sound of my feet hitting the pavement that calms and centers me and keeps me sane.

It has been hard to get back to running. Physically, it has been challenging. When I first got home I couldn't climb the stairs, much less run! Six months later, I can climb the stairs, but am nowhere near the distance or time I was pre-surgery.

The mental part has been more difficult. In spite of being cleared by doctors, of being told "no, your heart is NOT going to explode in your chest," fear of "what could happen" has kept me from doing one of the things I love the most.

In the movie Sex and the City, Charlotte is afraid to run, afraid to jinx all the good things happening in her life, afraid of something bad happening. Carrie tells her, "you run. That is what you do. It is who you are. You can't be afraid to be who you are!" I can relate.

So this week I am not going to be afraid of who I am. I am a runner. I am going to run.

Fearless

And I don't know how it gets better than this
You take my hand and drag me head first
Fearless
And I don't know why but with you I'd dance In a storm in my best dress
Fearless

I have really enjoyed these past two days. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous. On our road trip to Galveston and Moody Gardens yesterday, the kids and I were zooming down the highway blaring Taylor Swift, singing at the top of our lungs, Zoë and I in our matching "bug" but, oh, so fashionista, sunglasses. Caleb rolling his eyes in between mouthing the words under his breath so we won't hear him. We've just spent time together, laughing, singing, dancing around, acting silly…fearless. I don't know how it gets better than that.

It has been a long time since I have felt this, well, fearless and it made me realize how rarely I let myself experience this feeling. I began to wonder how to hold on to this feeling and "all this beauty" I wish I had some profound insight. I wish I could write that I figured it all out, that I finally got it all together. But I don't. But maybe that is how you be fearless: you grab hold of somebody's hand and rush headfirst, especially when you don't know where you are going. I don't know where I will end up, it is all up in the air, but here I go…fearless.

Haircut Time

So I went to Vegas with a friend this weekend. I did have a good time: had a spa tx, laid out by the pool, had an awesome dinner at Picasso, but I kept having flashbacks to 15-20 years ago when I was the party-girl/club-kid. Some things never change. The drinks may be more expensive but that is about it. I did come to realize that I am recovered from heart surgery. I'm fine. My heart is not going to explode or rupture in my chest at a moments notice. You will not see the headline "Stepford Wife Runner Found Dead in Clear Lake." What that means is the same thing it meant 15 years ago when I realized that my partying/drinking/ (and let's be honest, ho-ing around) was way out of hand: it's time to get off my ass and do something with my life. Like I said, somethings never change. I guess I'm lucky that all it took this time was a weekend in Vegas.

It is time to stop growing out my hair. Time to stop being afraid. Afraid of not being hired, afraid of my heart exploding, afraid of running, afraid of putting myself out there. I never realized the courage it takes to allow yourself to admit you're healed. It is much easier to be sick, to turn yourself and your care over to a team of doctors and to say, "I can't _________ because I'm sick.

I have decided that I really, really, need to get a job, get my resume together and start sending it out. I also think it is time to get a haircut so that I can look like somebody might want to hire.