2016

So, it has been awhile since I posted last and for that I apologize. Writer's block and all that. But today, as it is the last day of the year I thought I'd share some measured musing.

2016 ... you've been a bitch. In this past year I've learned a lot, discovered a lot and cried a lot.

I learned what it felt like to experience an earth-shattering loss. The loss of my dad this year was not something I expected to experience in my 29th year of life. I thought I would experience that in my 50 or 60th year of life. I wasn't prepared. Though I don't know that anyone can actually be ready for this type of situation. His illness was a shit storm of bad news that we could never actually process or accept in those short 5 1/2 weeks. After his death, I learned what it was like to create a new normal when you still felt the Gary Green sized hole in your heart. His absence is massive and we will never stop feeling that.

Throughout the grieving process, I learned what people should not say to someone who is grieving. I learned this through what people said to me and even through the head tilt, and now I can hope to know what to say to others as they experience loss within their own lives.

I learned what an impact my dad had on others. It is incredible to continue to discover how he touched so many others.

I learned that your family is your most important circle. Keep them close. Love them. Support them. And thank your lucky stars that you have them. Even though you may not always get along, they are the ones that will go to war for you.

I cried. A lot. I cried at times when I couldn't even identify what made me cry. I cried in loss. I cried in frustration. I even cried in happiness. When my best friend proposed to me I cried out of happiness (after the shock wore off at least). I couldn't believe that this was happening to me, in fact I looked at him and asked, "Are you kidding me right now?" before saying yes! I cried out of immense happiness.

I discovered that I fear for our future after our presidential election. I worry about a future with a president who does not have a filter and clearly does not support women, public schools or minorities. I worry about those that voted for him because I don't understand.

I discovered that people are wrong. They like to say that in times of distress you learn who your true friends are. I call their bluff. Yes, it is INCREDIBLE the number of people who come out of the walls to help you when you are struggling. And that is truly amazing and I am so grateful for those who did. But I think that you discover who your true friends are after the loss has occurred and everyone returns to their daily routines. Your true friends are those who continue to ask how you are doing and want to spend time with you even though your time of distress was months ago.

I learned that I need to not care so much about what others say or think about me. I am me, and if you don't like it then suck it up buttercup. Obviously, I can't make that a resolution or anything because I will never stop taking it personally. But I should. I shouldn't let other's opinions of me affect my mood and self-esteem. I shouldn't, but I do.

2016 was a rough year for many. Many people experienced loss of a loved one far too soon. Many people experienced heart ache. Many people experienced frustrations, trials, tribulations and hard times. But if I have learned anything in 2016 it is to spread kindness and hold onto the good things.

So, as we move into 2017 let's all focus on a bright new year. Hold your loved ones close, be kind to one another even if they aren't like you and you don't understand their lifestyle, help those who need help, and focus on the positive.

xoxo

A Birthday Request

On the eve of what would be my dad's 62nd birthday, I find myself sitting on the couch watching a home video from December 1986. I would've been 3 months old at the time and my twin and I are being passed around the table from person to person. My sisters and cousin are playing with the game SIMON trying to remember the increasingly complicated patterns. My mom is in and out of the kitchen in her baggy shirt and large 80s glasses. My dad sits at the table with a big, bushy mustache and a full mop of hair atop his head. Grandma (Aunt) Marge is proudly showing off her "Grandma Marge" sweatshirt happily explain that all of the grandkids names are on it with "Andy's being somewhere up here." All of this being filmed with a video camera the size of a 10 pound baby.

It is the picture of happiness. The family is all there and everyone is happy and together. Political strife hasn't driven its wedge between opposing parties within the family and all the people I love are there. These were the good old days (even if I only remember them from videos).

I completely realize that I am a glutton for punishment by watching these videos, especially today. Today when I miss my daddy dearly and yearn for what should have been. I also realize that I am *really* lucky to have these videos so that I can still hear his voice, however painful that is.

Fast forward a few minutes in this sadly blurry video and I hear my dad behind the camera calling. "Carolyn! Caro-lynne-poo! Kevie! Kev Kev Kev Kevie! Carolyn! Caro-lynee-poo!" As he tries to get us to look at the camera.  Something he will never do with my children.

Fast forward a bit more to a scene when mom is feeding me with her right hand while shaking a container of wipes with the other to keep my attention. She is speaking to Grandma Marge and lamenting the fact that if she told Caitlin and Kristen to nap they wouldn't, but if Gary did they would go right up and go to sleep. All of this in the midst of a conversation about Dynasty and the magazine "National Star".

My dad was a good great man . He was a man that was taken too God-damned soon from all of us, but he was a great man. He was a man who was focused on helping others even if it meant massive frustration on his part. He wanted to change things for the better and help everyone he possibly could. He was involved in organizations whose sole focus was to help bring those into nature would couldn't go on their own. He wanted to help others and spread kindness until the very end. He led a life filled with acts of kindness.

Ultimately, I don't know who reads this blog ... but my mom has put out a request and I am requesting the same ... tomorrow, in honor of his birthday let's spread those seeds of kindness far and wide. Do something nice for someone else. Give someone a hug who needs it. Do a random act of kindness for which you receive nothing except the satisfaction of knowing you did good. It is the little things that often have the largest impact. Not sure what to do? Look here for some ideas. So if you are reading, spread those seeds and be kind to one another.

Imagination and Reality

It has been almost 5 months since my dad was taken from us by the hands of the super bitch, Cancer. I don't think anyone would argue with us that his death was awful and unnecessary (though people still say stupid shit like, it is so much easier for you that he died after only 5 weeks - add that to the list of things you should never say to someone who is grieving). Despite that, and time having continued to pass, we are still grieving.

This week I am house and dog sitting for my mom so she can take a much needed trip to Connecticut to see her best friend. However, this isn't my usual stint in house and dog sitting because I am in her new house. A house that she moved into a month or so ago. A house that is filled with all of her belongings. A house that feels a little bit like her home. A house that her dogs run and bark around.

And yet, something is off. I don't feel him here.

I look around this home and I see his caribou, an ever present fixture. I look around this home and I see our family pictures. I look around this home and see his chair where he often was found on a cold winter's evening. I look around this house and I see his collection of native american artifacts that he acquired on his trips to the southwest.

But I don't feel him.

I think that is the benefit and downfall of moving after a death. My mom needed to move. It was too hard for her, and really all of us, to be at the old house. We could see him everywhere and his belongings were still scattered around the house. It was his space and his house and his dream. This is a two edged sword though. It is too painful to see him everywhere we looked at the old house, but it is too painful to not see him everywhere we look at the new house.

It almost feels like we are all just playing pretend. We are living an imaginary scenario and pretending that everything is okay and pretending that he will be home soon. The reality is, obviously, the extreme opposite of that. I don't think that any of us are still in denial over his death ... but we pretend to be. It is easier that way. 

I Am Not Perfect

I am not perfect. I make mistakes. I say things I shouldn't say. I eat things I shouldn't eat. I do things I shouldn't do. I enable people I shouldn't enable.

Sometimes I want to punch someone in the face. Sometimes I want to yell at the top of my lungs when things don't work out the way I want them to. Sometimes I want to stay in bed and pull the covers over my eyes.

I am not perfect.

I know I am not perfect and I know that that is okay. I know that there is no such thing as perfect. So why is it that I feel the need to BE perfect?

This is true in many facets of my life. I want to be the perfect teacher, employee, sister, friend, fiance, partner, daughter. I want to have perfect hair, make up, clothing, weight. I want to be the happiest, nicest, most optimistic person possible. I want to be liked by everyone. But striving for perfection only leads to defeat and deflation.

The majority of this pressure comes from myself. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be perfect and I tie that to a scale (both literal and figurative) that has high expectations that can be hard to balance with real life. And it is exhausting. It is exhausting trying to stay within the two pound range that is your "live with it weight". It is exhausting trying to please everyone. It is exhausting to continue saying yes, yes, yes in hopes of high approval rating when you really want to say no. It is exhausting to be the people pleaser who only wants to please others even if, internally, you are sinking because you just want to do something for yourself.

I do not believe that this is something that I, alone, struggle with. I think a lot of people experience the pressure to be perfect every single day. It can be overwhelming. In fact, it IS overwhelming.

Maybe we just need to be a little nicer to ourselves and understand that perfect is impossible.  The adage of "you are perfect just the way you are" is one we all need to focus on a little more.

Hate is NEVER the Answer

Today is June 12, 2016. That means that we have been living in 2016 for a whopping 165 days. Already in those mere 165 days, we have witnessed 133 mass shootings.

In 2015, the United States saw 372 mass shootings. That is more than one mass shooting per day for an entire year ... with a few left over.

In 2014, the United States saw 280 mass shootings.

According to the FBI, a mass shooting occurs when four or more people are killed or injured at a single event, in the same general time and location, not including the shooter.

If we move beyond a mass shooting, and look at the number of gun violence incidents the results are chilling.

2014 saw 51,820 incidents
2015 saw 53,272 incidents

In 2014, 628 children were killed or injured.
In 2015, 698 children were killed or injured.

CHILDREN. We are talking about children under the age of 11. This is horrific.

In 2014, 12,593 people died.
In 2015, 13,429 people died.

In 2014, there were 1,605 accidental shootings.
In 2015, there were 1,965 accidental shootings.

What the hell is wrong with us?

This is a topic of intense conversation in our country. To make changes, or to leave it alone? Do we change our gun laws to make it harder for people to get their hands on guns? Or do we leave it alone because it is our second amendment right?

I'm sorry ... this is probably going to stir up some anger when I say this ... but using the second amendment as a reason to keep your guns is bull shit. This is the not the wild, wild west and we don't need to carry guns with us anymore. We do not have to protect our homes from soldiers invading them. We do not have a well regulated militia.

The second amendment says: A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."

I don't know about you ... but when I read this I don't see any part of it that says, hey, don't forget to bring your gun to the movie theater with you. This amendment is about the concern of the national army posing a threat to the separate state's security. It is really about when people served in the militia, their right to bear arms would not be infringed.

There is ZERO reason to have any type of guns other than your hunting rifles which should be kept locked in a gun safe. There is ZERO reason to have any type of assault rifle. The argument there is that people like to shoot them for fun. Be that as it may, there are a lot of people who have access to them (legally or otherwise) who use them for a different purpose. A purpose that ends with 50 people dead in a Florida nightclub.

I am not saying that people can't go hunting. I come from a family of hunters. I love venison as much as the next person. And that is fine - hunt responsibly. But why, when you are not hunting, do you need to carry a gun with you? I am also not saying that people shouldn't own guns. I'm saying we need to do SOMETHING about this.

Something needs to change. We continue to have mass shootings and if the trend of shootings continues this year, we will experience more mass shootings than last year. This is a problem.

What is the solution?



*Statistics are taken from the Gun Violence Archive. 

This Is Your Sign

We humans live our lives by the grace of signs.

We wake up in the morning to an alarm blaring - a sign it is time to start our day.
We come running when we hear our personal ringtone - a sign that someone is calling.
We glance at our phone when the text tone goes off - a sign that you have a message.
We listen to bells ring at school - a sign it is time to switch classes, eat lunch or go to recess.
We keep our eyes open when driving to see yields, no right turns - signs that keep us safe in the car.
We wait for the red light to turn off on the stove - a sign that the oven is preheated.
We carefully label our businesses - signs that welcome customers in.
We take our temps if our heads feel hot - a sign that we are sick.
We check labels for warnings - signs of what not to do.
We even deliver signs to people when they make a dumb move by saying, "Here's your sign!"

But there is one type of sign that we obsessively look for, desperately searching the skies for a sign. This is a sign that we may or may not see. It is a sign that could be right in front of our face, though we are completely oblivious to it.

This particular type of sign is one that I, personally, yearn to see. It is a sign from Heaven.
A sign from my dad that says, "Don't worry, I am okay."
A sign that says, "I love you."
A sign that says, "I am proud of you."
A sign that says, "I'm here."
A sign that says, "You will be a beautiful bride."
A sign that says, "You will be a great mother."
A sign that says, "I miss you."

But what is it? What does a sign from Heaven, from our loved one really look like? Did you know that they actually make top 10 lists about this? I mean, who sat there and polled the world asking what type of sign they believe they saw and then compiled a top 10 list? But they did ... and here it is. (Though you should know that despite saying they are a top 10 ... they are really a top 9)

1. Dream Visitation
2. Strange Electrical Occurrences
3. Feeling their Presence
4. Smelling their Scent
5. Show up as an Insect, or an Animal
6. Moving Objects or Placing Objects in your Path
7. Communicate a Message
8. Increased Number of Coincidences
9. Visions

If you ask me, this list is pretty vague. So anytime the lights flicker I should assume it is my dad? My grandpa? Anytime a bug crosses my path or a deer shows up, I should assume it is him? I don't know if I buy it.

Saying this, the other day there was a majestic deer standing by the bike rack when I got to work in the morning. We stared, frozen, at each other for awhile - neither of us daring to move. Then a car drove past and broke our trance and the deer gracefully ran away. I admit that for a few moments I did wonder if it was my dad. Ultimately, I thought that it was a nice thought but couldn't say if it was a sign or just another deer hanging out at school, which they commonly do.

How do we know if it is a sign? When is a coincidence a coincidence and when is it a sign? I don't have the answers to this - at all. But I do know that I wish I would obviously, and conclusively receive a sign from above. A sign from my dad who I fiercely miss.

So, here I sit. Begging the dear Lord above for a sign. Hoping that when or if it does appear that it smacks me in the face so that I absolutely know it is what it is.

Time

31,536,000 seconds.

525,600 minutes.

8,760 hours.

365 days.

52 weeks.

8,409,600 breathes. 

10,512,000 blinks.

2,920 hours of sleep.

2,080 hours of work.

1,996 pounds of food eaten.

5,840,000 words spoken.

Phew, I am sure that most of you are thinking that this is a lot of numbers and they seem quite randomly strung together. There is a purpose to it, I promise.

All of the numbers listed above from 52 at the smallest to over 31 million at the largest are ways to measure a year. You can measure a year in many different ways - some that you may not have thought to use as a measurement tool.

There is a well known saying that says, "Life is Not Measured by the Number of Breathes We Take, But By the Moments that take Our Breathes Away."  Well ... that may be true, but apparently we can measure our life by the number of breathes we take. Over 8 million to be exact.

So, why am I sharing this with you? Well ... I have found that time is a really hard concept to understand (and no, I am not referring to teaching students how to find elapsed time - that is a blog post in and of itself). I keep trying to figure out how the measure of time can remain constant, yet feel so erratic.

When you are bored, an hour of time drags so slowly that it may as well go backwards.
When you are having fun, an hour of time flies at the speed of light.
When you are watching a loved one suffer, every second is a painfully long tick on the clock.
When you are missing someone desperately, the days travel at two speeds - simultaneously at a snail's crawl and at a cheetah's run.
When you find that you have massive amounts of stuff to do, the year moves faster than is possible while you watch your to-do list seemingly grow.
When you want to get married, then time appears to melt off the clock.
When you want to have a baby, the time you spend trying to get pregnant feels like eons longer than it actually is.

What is up with that? How can time drag by second by second, and then fly by day by day as you anxiously wish for more time. Is there ever enough time?

I obviously don't have the answers here, folks. But it is food for thought, I guess. How do we desperately hold onto the time that we have and truly make the most of it while honoring those that we miss?

We live. We breathe. We remember. We smile. We laugh. We hope. 

A Weighty Issue

I have always wondered why so much of our standard of beauty is measured by the numbers on a digital scale. And why so many of us drag that scale around with us, on its heavy chain shackled to our ankles. (Don't get me wrong ... I am 100% guilty of this.)

Why is that we feel the urge to step on the scale to torture ourselves every single day? You wake up in the morning and prior to showering you have to face your demonic scale. You feel the pull from the tip of your toes to the split ends on each individual hair. Will it be nice? Will it be mean? You find yourself muttering a quick prayer to whatever Patron Saint of Weight that you can think of that the numbers stay within the range that you call "The I Can Live With It" numbers. You take a deep breath and you cautiously step on. You release your breathe of air and dare to glance down at the numbers...

Now what? Now the numbers you see will dictate how you feel for the rest of the your day. If they are within the ICLWI range you continue your day as normal. If it is lower? You float through the day feeling pretty damn proud of yourself. If it is higher? You might as well climb back in bed because you are going to feel awkward and uncomfortable all day long.

But why?! Who decided there was a number on a scale that determined beauty? And not just on a scale - clothing sizes,  shoe sizes and don't even get me started on jeans.

The standard of beauty has changed so much with the passing of years, and with the shift from true to form sizes to vanity sizing.

If we rewind the metaphorical clock all the way to the 1400s and 1500s you'll notice that plump was the unparalleled sign of beauty. Have a few extra rolls and thunder thighs? Then watch out because you are at the top of the courting food chain.

The Victorian era was exactly the opposite. The thinner the better. Here is where the pain of being beautiful came into play. Corsets that could shrink your wait to a mere 12 inches. 12 inches?! You couldn't breathe and it was the norm to break a few ribs. But wait ... you want to be extra thin, but make sure you add a few bustles to your dress so that your rear looks big. Because a thin waist and a large rear was all the rage.

Then fast forward to the 1900s, where we find women who were tall and slender but with large T & A. Though to achieve this look women and girls had to wear incredibly uncomfortable corsets.

In the 1920s we shift to the flapper era where the ideal woman had shorter (boy-ish) haircuts, slender bodies with flat chests and no curves. In fact, large breasts were frowned upon during this time! The goal was to be thin and androgynous in this era.

The World War era of the 1930s - 1940s, women's curves were emphasized by their clothing and the beauty standards of the celebrities were easier to attain than ever before (or ever again). The average American woman had a BMI of 23.6, whereas celebrities had a BMI of 20.3.

The 1950s is probably my favorite era because it emphasized fuller figures! The hour glass shape was in. We were back to women having curves and being proud of their bodies. Of course it became a harder to attain the beauty style of the celebrity world.

The 1960s saw a throw-back to the 1920s when thinner than thin figures were admired and the androgynous look was in.  If you had curves, you were not welcome here until the latter part of the 60s when the hippie movement came out in full force.

Now in 2016, we are continuing the thin is in rage. People strive to be thinner than ever, sometimes to the point of making themselves sick. They buy into diet fads and miracle pills to try to achieve the impossible beauty standards that society has given to us. We watch moves and feel poorly about our bodies because our thighs are bigger than the actress. But you know what? That is a load of crap. If we worked out multiple times every day and had a personal chef, we would look like that too.

So what happened? It seems to me that we flip-flop depending on the decade that we are in. Thinner than thin to fully figured and curvy. If only our culture could find a combination of both and celebrate the beauty of all!

Eat! Enjoy life! Indulge in that extra piece of chocolate! Have fun with your friends! Embrace your beauty!


Sources:
http://www.rehabs.com/explore/womens-body-image-and-bmi/
http://lookdamngood.com/10-eras-of-beauty-how-our-perception-of-beauty-has-changed-over-time/6/

A Breathe of the Wind

My dad always found himself most at peace in nature. I always thought I was a little disconnected from him in that way. I was never one to sit in a tree stand for hours at the ass crack of dawn holding my breathe for a white tail deer to grace me with its presence. I was never one for pumping my own water and using an outhouse lest a bear get me or the hordes of spiders touched me. I was never one to go to the Boundary Waters Canoe Base in order to canoe for hours at a time, un-showered after using the facilities which just so happened to be a hole in the ground. Oh and that whole carry your  own shit (literally) with you for the rest of the trip? Hell to the no. Then as a teenager I pretended that I enjoyed nature and agreed to hike the mountains of Crested Butte only to whine the entire time. I'm hot. I'm tired. I can't breathe. Are we there yet? I'm sure it annoyed him endlessly. All of this was offered to me along with time with my dad, and yet I preferred to find solace in books and American Girl Dolls.

Realistically it wasn't until college that I really fell in love with nature and hiking. I began to travel and experience the world beyond my own backyard. I began to soak up and find the beauty in the world. I hiked, I walked and I climbed mountains. I spent three summers in Colorado where I felt wonderfully at home and it quickly became my "happy place". The place I imagine myself whenever I feel down or blue.

Now I can find peace in walking trails with the wind swirling around me. I can imagine myself as Pocahontas with all the colors of the wind filling my lungs and opening my eyes to the beauty around me.

It is here that I feel my dad. It won't be at a grave site or looking at his picture - it will be in nature. I can imagine him walking beside me in this solitude as he says, "Can you hear it?" Following which he'll point out and name an obscure animal. It is here that we can share this peace even if I took it for granted so long ago.

The moral of this story? Don't wait for tomorrow for what you hope to accomplish. Spend time with those around you. Learn to love their hobbies, or at least give it a try. Become one with nature and find your happy place. 

Seeds of Kindness

My dad is was a truly spectacular man. He lived his life full of passion for the things he believed in. He loved his family and friends deeply and he always helped others before himself. He was the type of man that would get fired up over the injustices of the world ... but instead of just complaining, he did his very best to make a difference wherever he could to right the wrongs and the wronged. He volunteered for numerous organizations, even when they did not treat him as he should. He helped his elderly neighbors whenever he was given the chance, even if it was in a position that made him feel uncomfortable. He dedicated his life to serving others and eventually paid the ultimate price. He unknowingly touched and inspired so many people across our globe to do better, be better, love better.

Even in his final days, he spoke of helping others in any way that we can and to remain positive. He spoke of having no regrets. Even to the end, he inspired all of us to live positively and gracefully while we continue to help others.

Somewhere along the way ... he started talking about Planting Seeds of Kindness. This phrase came out of nowhere for me and seemed to be something that grew from a spark in his brain. It may have been from long ago ... but of that I am not sure. His mission throughout his battle in Cancerland was to spread as many seeds of kindness as he could. To help others and be the change that we wish to see in our world. We all found ourselves using that phrase pretty consistently whether it be in conversation or on social media. So, that got me thinking about what exactly ARE seeds of kindness? Do people truly know or are they just using the phrase to carry on his memory?

In my opinion Seeds of Kindness are anything that makes another person feel good, anything that falls under the broad category of paying it forward. Ultimately, I think that is a cop out to just saw that, so I thought I would come up with some examples of how we can Plant the Seeds of Kindness to ensure that they continue to grow and spread in order to create a more beautiful, inclusive world.

Seeds of Kindness

• Paying a meaningful compliment to someone. This doesn't mean to just offhandly say, "Uhm, I like your shirt." But to say what you truly feel is spectactular about the other person. 
• Help Someone Out
• Carry groceries to the car
• Help someone cross the street
• Plug someone meter when it is close to expiring
• Take their dog for a walk on a busy day
• Watch their children when they are in a pinch (or when they are not in a pinch)
• Read to a child
• Read to an adult
• Visit a nursing home and spend time with the residents
• Hold the door open for the person behind you
• Be Present
• Sit and listen to someone when they need to talk
• Be a shoulder to cry on when they need to cry
• Laugh with people when they need to laugh
• Hold their hands when they need to feel less alone
• Take a walk when they need a breather
• Drop off some food to someone who is standing on the corner with a sign
• Make and distribute blessings bags
• Clean out your clothes and donate to someone in need (not just Goodwill!)
• Smile at people when you pass them on the street
• Mow the lawn for someone who cannot do it themselves
• Donate food to a food bank
• Write a note or tell someone how/why you appreciate them
• Say Thank You
• Make someone a mixed tape :)
• Become a Big Brother/Big Sister
• Be the first to say I'm Sorry
• Volunteer your time for a worthy organization
• Clean up a park or highway or neighborhood (but be safe!)

Ultimately there are SO many things that you can do to Plant Seeds of Kindness. I have to believe that once you help someone, then they will turn around and help someone else. Helping others feels good and who doesn't like to feel good? 

So go out. Do good. Help others. Plant Seeds of Kindness. Let's make this world a more beautiful, graceful place. 

Fab As I Am

I am a teacher of a lovely group of fourth graders and every year I look at them and wonder how I can support them in being body positive and having a high self-esteem. Every year I find myself coming up short.

How can we counteract what the media and Hollywood have worked so tirelessly to create as our norm? How can we counteract what our young people believe when we struggle on the daily with our own body image and self-esteem? How can we counteract all of the photoshopped photos and impossible beauty standards that are thrown in their faces Every.Single.Day.?

We are living in a world where young people (both boys and girls) make comments like, "Oh, she's the fat singer!" when someone mentions the song All About That Bass. Or they make fun of each other for not wearing designer clothes and shoes. They make fun of girls for having small chests and of boys for having small muscles. They make fun of girls for not having a thigh gap and of boys for not being tall enough.

Why? 

Because we have bought into the impossible expectations that are set in front of us and we accept them blindly. We don't question whether it is right or wrong ... we just say okay and follow it up with some fad diet, weight lifting, or worse - we move in the terrifying direction of eating disorders.

What we don't do (but should!) is recognize our own beautiful, fabulous selves. We should recognize that our worth is not tied to our outward beauty but to who we are as people - how beautiful we are on the inside. We should recognize that we need to plant seeds of kindness and lift others up rather than tear them down. We should recognize that our outward beauty IS beautiful. We should recognize the power of our brain and the strength in our soul. We should recognize that WE ARE ENOUGH. We are beautiful, incredible, fabulous people regardless of what the media believes is "beautiful". You is kind. You is smart. You is important. You is enough.

An amazing friend of my family recently started a movement on Facebook that is meant to empower all people to realize just how important they are. We need to act as positive role models for each other. So I encourage you to join the revolution and make a post on Facebook, Twitter or your own blogs about just how fabulous you are! Use the hashtag #fabasiam (Fab As I Am) on your posts so that we can all see just how fabulous you are and bask in your greatness with you. When fabulous calls makes sure you pick up the phone.

Fab As I Am - Day 1 Post

I too love my eyes. They are the part of physical me that is most complicated. They like to change color depending on the day (light blue, vibrant blue, greenish) which I think is pretty cool. They are also pretty vibrant - someone once told me they were "electric". They also are the source of my tears which tend to flow easily which I believe makes me strong not weak. ‪#‎fabasiam‬

Say Something

The thing about grief is that it only takes time to move beyond it. When someone is grieving it does not mean they need advice on how not to grieve or even on how to grieve appropriately. When someone is grieving it does not mean that they are in a negative mindset or are in danger of hurting themselves. When someone is grieving it doesn't mean they are looking for someone who "knows how it feels". Everyone experiences grief in their own way. Regardless of how similar your experience was ... it is physically impossible to experience grief in the same way.

This got me thinking about what is an apporpriate thing to say to someone who is grieving and what are things that should be avoided. Obviously, this isn't an all inclusive list and isn't true for every single person ... but I think it is a start. When people respond to someone who is grieving with something that is on the "to be avoided" list, it doesn't make them a bad person. I think as humans we respond in the only way we know how ... and sometimes that makes the griever feel uncomfortable - even though that is not our intention. So perhaps this list will provide some food for thought?


Things You Should Say To Somenoe Who Is Grieving

• I am so sorry for your loss.
• Your dad/mom/sister/brother/child/friend was an amazing person.
• They will be missed. 
• Is there anything I can do to help? 
• Here, have a piece of chocolate. 
• Let's go have a glass of (wine/beer/liquor) when you are ready.
• I'm so sorry you are suffering. 
• What are things I can do for you at work while you are gone? 
• What errands can I run for you?
• Can I grocery shop for you?
• Can I give you a hug? 

Things You Should NOT Say To Someone Who Is Grieving

• How are you? 
• I know excatly how you feel.
• At least ... (you got to say goodbye, had a few weeks, s/he isn't suffering...)
• They are in a better place now.
• God must have needed them for something. 
• S/he is with the angels/God/Jesus now.
• Time will heal this wound.
• You need to be more positive about this. 
• At least they died doing something they loved.
• It was his/her time to go.
• You need to be strong for ______.
• God will never give you more than you can handle. 

We have all been the person that said or did something on the "do not say" list. That doesn't make us bad people - in fact I know that I have done it in the past. Sometimes it is impossible to know what to say unless you have gone through a situtation that requires grief. Even if you HAVE gone through a situation that causes you to grieve ... you still might not know what to say. In the case that you truly have no idea what to say ... the best thing is to be silent and just listen. Give the person a hug and listen if they want to talk. If they don't want to talk ... then just be there. Stand next to them, hold their hand, give them a hug. 

And know, that even if you say something that causes the grieving person to shudder and feel bad ... it isn't your fault. Everybody does it, but here is another great time to think before you speak and treat others how you would want to be treated. 

Finally, loss is loss but it is 100% impossible for you to "know how someone feels" because every relationship is unique. 

Grief

Dad died 11 days ago. 11 days ago my "normal" fell apart. How did he go from being healthy with a cold to dead in a mere 6 weeks. What in the actual fuck. There wasn’t enough time. Okay, I realize that there isn’t ever enough time. But 6 weeks?

The past 11 days have been a rollercoaster of emotions. Grieving the loss of a father as a daddy’s girl is an interesting experience, especially when you add in the grief of a future lost... 

They say there are stages of grief. The number of stages varies depending on which model you look at. Some contain shock and some don’t. The most common has 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

Grief is considered to be a fluid route with consistent change. You may find yourself in denial, then feel a bout of anger and then slide back into denial. I think that is a bunch of shit. I don’t think that you experience one stage of grief in isolation. It isn’t a stoplight that you sit at for awhile before deciding to reverse to go back or put on the gas to go forward..

More appropriately, grief is a giant messed up game of twister. You find yourself with your right hand on anger, left foot twisted behind you to land on depression, left hand on bargaining with your head smack dab in the middle of denial all the while your right foot stretches as far as it can towards the farthest corner of the mat for acceptance. Before your know it your limbs are twisted and your head is weighing you down and suddenly you find yourself in a jumbled heap on the mat.

So you get up and you try again. Right hand on Bargaining. Left hand on Denial. Right foot on Anger and Left foot on Depression. This time your head reaches for acceptance but you find your heart bringing you back down to the mat into a mess of tears and heartache.

When does it stop? Every day you get up and you hope to spin the wheel to land on the perfect combination of moves that ultimately allows you to move towards acceptance. There is no specific end date.

What can help? Nothing. Time. Continuing to spin the wheel and picking yourself up off the mat and trying again. This is the only way to conquer grief.

As my dad has said throughout this whole journey through Cancerland - one day at a time.