Category: friendship

I’ll show you my brave…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay5 Comments

www.rainydayinmay.com

Brave to you will likely look very different then it does to me…

I was recently challenged to consider the bravest thing I have done. I thought, instead, of all of the courage and bravery I have seen in the people I know and love. I have friends who have literally chased down muggers/assailants. I have law enforcement friends. I have inner-city-teacher friends. I know several people who travel the world, adventuring into unknown and remote locations… (I recently read a story about an Anaconda, in the Amazon, that stalked someone in the water. It STALKED them. Snakes are in the wild, unknown and remote locations. This is a problem for me.)

My sister Joy lives in a beautiful home in south-eastern New Mexico. (she also has snakes who stalk and intrude on her life) My son is a soldier, as are so many friends. I know a beautiful soul who is a surrogate. The list goes on and on. I see bravery demonstrated so regularly and, when I look at myself, I feel like there is no comparison.

And therein lies the issue. There IS no comparison. My brave won’t look like yours. While it may have been brave for me to fight for my marriage and stand by my husband after infidelity and betrayal, it may be brave for another woman to walk away from a similar situation… And that is the thing about courage- no one else gets to decide it. A soldier, in and of itself, does not make them brave. A soldier who is willing to protect us and fight for what is right, even if it costs him his life- THAT is the brave part. Courage and selflessness in the face of danger is their brave. We can define ourselves a thousand ways, but brave will never be located in the title.

My brave can be found in my pursuit of motherhood long after I lost my uterus. I was shattered, but did not give up.

My brave can be seen within the moves I’ve made, the jobs I’ve taken.

My brave is there, beyond my comfort zone. In the once-awkward situations, the stranger-conversations, the elements of life just beyond my natural limit. I have grown to push myself there, into that place. Sometimes it is downright nauseating.

My brave is rooted deep, in my writing. To be authentic, raw and displayed does not come naturally, but it is the only way that it feels right.

My brave may have been born the day that I realized it was up to me to stop the patterns of sexual abuse that were happening within my childhood. There was no shame, only a concrete knowledge that the more  people I told, the less likely it was to happen again.

I told everyone.

It never happened again.

Perhaps the most ironic part of each one of those things though, is that they never felt brave. They often felt woven with elements of worry, anxiety and more than a healthy sprinkling of fear. Second guessing was my second nature during the seasons that, upon reflection, reveal themselves as brave. Bravery often makes me feel like I need to throw up, pass out, curl up in my bed and hide… The list goes on and on, but never have I though Woah! Now that, Misty, that was one mighty fine act of bravery! And it’s pretty unfair for me to hold myself to another soul’s standard of bravery before I’m willing to label it is as such.

Maybe you scale rocky mountainside’s for fun, eat nails for breakfast and only date psycho clowns- if so, my list probably seems pretty mild to you. (I’d also like to point out that two of those three things aren’t brave, they are reckless and that’s not actually always a fine line. Sometimes it is a gigantic 8-lane interstate.)

I don’t know when I’m brave, always.

I am pretty sure I could sit here and list out the ten-thousand ways I have felt and acted the opposite, just this month.

I’m working on accepting my brave for what it is. I’m learning I don’t need my neighbor, brother, husband or friend to call it brave, for it to be. Most importantly though, I know to my core that I need the brave list to be growing longer, by the day, while the other list grows smaller and smaller…

So that’s my plan.

(Minus any and all snakes, anyway.)

What has your brave looked like?

 

The one with the Do’s and Do Not’s…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

I used to wake up, before the sun, every morning. I would make breakfast for my husband and get him out the door. I would write until it was time to wake my youngest. Before any of those things happened, I had made my bed, gone through my diligent face care routine and dressed in real (non-pajama) clothes. She had a home cooked breakfast, every morning, and then we homeschooled.

I was not a coffee drinker.

I managed to write an entire novel this way, make a decent income as a blogger and worked as both a freelance film critic and consultant for Random House. At some point, in 2010, I decided I needed more on my plate, so I turned my passionate hobby of photography into a small business.

Allow me to pause here, for just a minute, to advise you against taking something you creatively love and making it a business. This does seem to work out for some, but for so many of us it only leads to disaster… My DSLR is hardly ever on these days, and after two years of taking orders from people who did not care what my focus or vision was, I closed the doors on that endeavor. There was also the fact that I was tired, my writing was suffering and I was joining the masses as an exhausted/uninspired blogger…

It will probably always come back to this blog.

It’s not surprising that when one pulls away from consistent blogging, allowing months to pass between half-hearted attempts at posts, their audience gravitates elsewhere. Social media and the miracle of micro-blogging was not a thing yet. Somehow I kept this little space of the internet there, at bay, for the someday to come. The someday when I would feel inspired and suddenly once again share everything through the lens of an observer.

The thing is, that day will never come.

Just like sitting on three completed novels, a hundred personal essays and poetry pieces does not a published author make. While I know that several of those projects are nowhere near publishable, it annoys me to wake up at 42 and wonder what I was thinking? I kept my life at bay, waiting for that day when I’d be an agent represented, published author. How I would ever get from point A to G without accomplishing B, C, D, E, & F, I never seemed to consider. It would just happen, wouldn’t it? No. “If you write it, they will read it…” “If it’s meant to be, it will be…” *Insert other stupid nonsense, we put our faith in because we need something to believe in and that might be less vulnerable than actually going after it, here…*

When my youngest left the nest, I knew the season of pursuit was upon me. I knew that the running list of things I used to do, would be mine again-

  • I would blog.
  • I would find an agent.
  • I would publish my book.
  • I would begin a podcast.
  • I would have this amazing army of a support system around me.
  • I would master time management, beginning with a sacred morning quiet time, which would fill my soul with infinite peace…
  • I would read so many books.

The good news is that I did manage to start a podcast, and I really love the experience. It has been like nothing I ever could have imagined, in my wildest dreams. The truth is though, the podcast wasn’t ever meant to be the focus or the most important part. (Someone asked me the other day how I felt podcasting and writing went hand in hand. I couldn’t answer. The truth is, they don’t. Both support my heart, my vision/what I believe is my purpose, but that is the only real connection.)

The rest though, minus point five, is on me. My time management is far from mastered. No longer having kids at home, it is beyond me how I can not manage to find time to do these things. How many times did I say:

When school is out for summer I will…

When Gen graduates I will…

After we move, I will…

Just let me get through the holidays and then I will… 

Because, in some dysfunctional way I believed time would magically appear, but it doesn’t. Time to write, time to sit quietly to connect/pray/reflect, time to work out, time to… IT DOES NOT *POOF* into existence. We adapt and fill those spaces once filled by other things, with new things. Because the habits didn’t already exist, they don’t fall in line.

I have felt so much insurmountable disappointment in all of this. I half heartedly throw a post up and only a couple dozen people may read it. Defeat. I take part in a few linkups in an effort to connect with readers and grow an audience (again), but see little to no traffic increase. Defeat. I start the year off with a simple, lovely little devotional and open it yesterday morning to see five weeks have passed since my last check in with that sweet little book. Defeat. I catch a glimpse of my TBR pile. DEFEAT…

And, to be honest, I find myself incredibly hurt and disappointed by the lack of support in the people I love more than life itself. Which, is ok. It is ok to be hurt when it seems like others should care. HOWEVER, out of an entire list of things bearing my frustration and disappointment, that is the one point I cannot do anything about. Instead of allowing that to debilitate me further, I need to just get up, dust myself off and DO ALL OF THE THINGS. Period.

Instead, I stay stuck, and we all know that defeat and disappointment feel terrible.

I have lived silently within the dimension of my growing frustration at these things. With each passing day, I have felt worse, but did little to change a thing. Then I became a part of a conversation with others. Other women, women I respect and admire, who are living an almost identical chapter. What?!?!?! Something magical happened though, when this conversation began…

I was able to start addressing these things, one little bit at a time. I am still chipping away and maybe that will sum up the next ten years of my life. That’s ok too. I’ll get there and it WILL be worth it.

This early Wednesday morning I do not have time management mastered, but I am managing to use my time better. I am realizing my mistakes within the dream world of overwhelm.

I am doing something, and so at least there is that.

Personality and the Writer, an introspect…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

www.rainydayinmay.com

My husband is an engineer and, especially in the past eighteen months, whenever I’ve found myself in conversation with another woman there are certain statements I may make which illuminate the personality types attached to his profession. You must be married to an Engineer! she’ll say, her smile one that understands. It has been my experience that there is a lot of truth to this. Though I am yet to understand how all of the personality tests and enneagram guides work, I do comprehend one hundred percent that if I type “gifts for engineers” in my Amazon search engine, hundreds of things my husband would LOVE fill my screen.

It seems like writers aren’t quite so lucky. There is no one-size-fits-all list of characteristics, within our group. Maybe this is because engineering is so precise and unimaginative, where as in the writer’s world imagination breeds life…

I, by nature, am an ambivert. (introverted extrovert) By this I mean that I am a lover of quiet, alone time. I thrive on my routines and the peaceful security of knowing what comes next and where things are. I gladly accept the idea that when one puts on headphones it means to back away and leave them alone. By this rule, I can honestly say there is a huge portion of my life where I would live in headphones! (The big, fluffy/comfortable ones that sound technicians wear. And there would always be music playing, this could never be a fake out for some privacy. Music gives life…) I often need to really talk myself into making an appearance around other homosapians, and when I do, I need to come home and recharge mindlessly from the drain the outing caused.

BUT… (but, but, but, but, but…) I LOVE to host things. If I had my way, most weeks would include dinner parties, book clubs, girlfriends over for cups of tea or mugs of coffee, movie nights complete with popcorn and bowls of ice cream, craft nights, brunches, board game playing and endless glasses of wine… I feel the most like myself when there are people I love under my roof. I also love to travel, and when I travel I want to be out to see and do all of the things. When it is a dinner party (which I am not hosting) or a girl’s night out and those in attendance happen to be people I adore- everyone better buckle in for a long evening because I will come alive with laughter, conversation, spontaneity and be up for almost anything if it means the party won’t stop.

The upside is that I get to live the best parts of each side of this spectrum, the downside is that sometimes the worst parts war each other. (Also, an added downside is that I’m not so easy to gift to lazily, which is also an upside so the complexity continues.) Sometimes people just don’t get it and they want to lump me into their perception of a writer, but those perceptions are always wrong. I’m yet to meet a lazy writer, a rich writer, an eccentrically sensitive writer or a reclusive and resentful writer. Perhaps those people just aren’t on my dinner party invite lists, but I think more realistically these are caricatures of an idea that the unimaginative simply misunderstood.

As a writer it seems as though my introvert times often lead to me feeling a bit uninspired creatively. It is a catch-22 really, because when I hit a solid writing stride I cave myself in, getting lost in the project. The other side of things will likely find me laughing, blooming from the social engagement and so motivated/inspired to record the brilliant stream of things flowing through my mind, but the circumstances won’t allow spontaneous caving, writer’s cramps and reclusiveness. (This could perhaps give us a line of insight into the fictional idea of the reclusive and resentful writer of lore…) Neither side of this spectrum aids me as a writer, consistently. Both help, both hinder, it simply depends on a plethora of other moment by moment circumstances.

Within the writing community I have found many who fit either side, and they generally (not always, mind you) expect that same practice of others. Over the years I have made a few writer friends, but this was made possible by online forums and not in person writing tribes. I love the idea, but I have never found one that looked and felt the way these groups are pitched to writers. Within them there was more competition where there should have been support. Perhaps it is true in any industry, that the general frame of mind is that of scarcity thinking, but within the art community that can be even more damaging. We are not operating within the guidelines of a profession, the art we create is a deeply connected part of us. It can get complicated… (which is showing me how a person of our craft could possibly be deemed the eccentrically sensitive writer.) I’ve known writers so extroverted in nature that they must constantly be surrounded by people, and likewise those who need to be alone with absolutely no desire for human interaction. I cannot understand either extreme, and likewise they cannot understand me and my little pieces of their strides. Those of us caught in the middle might be the most lonely…

The times when I have worked on fiction projects, I have found that my characters tend to balance that fine line, like me. Sometimes they might be just to one side, more than the other, but still somewhere in that balancing range. I hesitate to say that out loud because it could come across as narcissistic, but honestly I would guess it is a reflection of my ability to understand and relate to those characters born within my brain. When I have read over fiction pieces I’ve written, I do not feel that I’m reading a hundred variations of the same person, so at least there’s that. Even so, fiction simply isn’t my favorite genre to pen. I’ve done it, and I will continue to, I am sure. There is something about my core which constantly pushes me in other directions, even when they may be uncomfortable or new, and I am growing into a writer who chooses to listen. (And the writer who, when I am in a social setting or shower, prays with everything I can muster to remember the brilliant thoughts raining down on me. This works roughly 8% of the time, but I’m pretending it used to be 7% so this is great progress, don’t you agree?)

Writing might be the easy part. The editing can sometimes feel like shredding pieces of our flesh, and it is exhausting. The marketing myself, as a writer, might be the most difficult though. I am learning more about the hows and whys of the whole process. I find myself really fighting my introverted urges to hide from the world while attempting to take my extroverted enthusiasm to share myself with everyone, down several notches. Truth be told, it is an exhausting roller coaster that makes me both grateful and eager to wake up in the morning while simultaneously longing to hit snooze and fall back asleep. This pretty much points to my deeply committed relationship with coffee, which might be one of the few things which connects writers across the intra/extraverted spectrum. (well, along with stylish notebooks, great pens and love of obscure bookstores…)

*This blog was written as part of a collaboration with:

CONTRIBUTORS:
Name: Jaq Abergas
IG handle: @jaqveganwriter
Name: Stephanie Ascough
IG handle: @stephanie.ascough
Name: Audrey Bodine
IG handle: @audrey.bo.author
Twitter: audreybo_author

Name: Lori Briggs
IG handle:@lorifbriggs
Name: Robin Davis
IG handle: @robi_victoria85
Twitter: Robi_Victoria85
Name: Melissa Frey
IG handle: @melissafreyauthor
Twitter: @melissamfrey

Name: Alika Guan
IG handle: @alikaguanwrites
Name: Hollie Martin
IG handle: @ourlittlecollective
Twitter: @abreathingroom
Name: Melanie Vallely
IG handle: @verityandviolets
Twitter: @veritynviolets

Fly, Fly Away…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay6 Comments

www.rainydayinmay.com

Five Minute Friday is upon us again, and this is where I’d love to put some clever remark about time going so quickly- especially with the writing prompt for today! The truth is that, for me, this week has seemed to last forever… If this is your first time seeing a Five Minute Friday post, our lovely host Kate gives a writing prompt, we free flow write for 5 minutes and then link up with others. Now that we all know what’s happening here, lets begin:

~

This week’s prompt made me cringe a little, to be honest. I am a little surprised that I reacted that way.

As the word danced around my mind I saw, in slow motion, the transition it took. From my distaste for flying in air planes, to the unwanted summer pests that grate my nerves. My mind began to play, like a jukebox paid by suggestion, the Foo Fighters. As if bleeding slowly, through it all, a remorse seeped in over the lack of funds available to buy the airline tickets I really should buy.

A trip to the Southwest to see dear family friends… And endless supply of tickets to Seattle to spend time with my son, his beautiful wife and their captivating little daughter…

She turns two next weekend, and though I adore her and feel so absolutely blessed to be her mimi, I daily grow to despise this distance between us so much.

This, of course, brings me to time.

Time flies.

Long weeks aside, it truly does… A baby born turns two and the minutes I have spent with her are nominal- and she doesn’t even really know my voice.

And this makes me sad…

Does my time pass quickly on the current of sadness? Sad songs, sad distance, sad news, sad expenses, sadness over the growing list of things I truly desire to do, and do not.

Does the flow which is joy driven move more swiftly, or is it easier traveling that way, to savor and take the lovely in? Perhaps the sadness is just easier because it is more honest? I imagine that raft is simpler to board.

And maybe I just have attention deficit, unable to stay on one track, to focus on one aspect of this word which I am tasked to write today- instead a parade of perspectives fly with the speed of light, through my mind.

{Fun fact, which made me smile- Black and Blue Bird, a new song by Dave Matthews, came on while I was writing this. As I was typing the words, he sang the speed of light. These are the little God-nod moments which I tuck into my heart to carry with me.}

~

Thanks for stopping by! On Fridays I put out a weekly email. The writing is a bit more personal and I share a list of the five things I really loved this week, along with some exclusive content/news that will only be shared there. It is one of my favorite parts of friday because the interactions that happen with my subscribers is the best! If you don’t get my Friday email, you absolutely should! AND, for subscribing you get a free guide to embracing your story and a self-care guide! It’s a win/win, plus it helps me connect with you, which is why we’re here in the first place, isn’t it??

(Speaking of personal… Episode 6 of the Collective podcast is live! We’re chatting with Maegy as she shares her journey through being adopted, dealing with attachment issues and transitioning into being a mom and wife. Authentic and beautiful, our little Collective community is so glad she shared!)

What Spring has brought with her…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

www.rainydayinmay.com

When I signed up to Let Go, this year, I really had no idea of the things that would be asked of me.

I would say that, while this is probably a truth that has applied to all of my WOtY’s, this year has all at once stung incredibly and also been so restorative. Now, it is June. We are at a half way point and I find myself reflecting on this journey. Here in Michigan we’ve had about eleven seconds of true spring, following the twenty years of winter… (While you may be learning that I can sometimes exaggerate, this is something I’ve known for a good, long while.)

Spring is nearly out the door, making way for Summer, and I am reflecting along with my favorite Emily, about what Spring has shown me…

The vision/dream my heart has held for so eternally long really can be mine… I’ve read all of the little memes about believing in yourself, I’ve read the books and seen the lectures. But then, at some point this Spring I finally followed through with a project that was two years, (and let’s be honest, a lifetime) in the making and opportunities/possibilities just spilled forth. It took those things happening to make me realize this vision wasn’t a fantasy, it was a grand design. It may look differently than the ways I’ve dreamed, but that just means it will be better and more suited to my truth.

The internet has made me a terrible book reader… Goodness, have I ever written more truer words? It is terrible! I’m trying to change it, honest! I have sat the book I’m attempting to read, on my table every day this week. I naively tell myself that will remind me. I pencil READ onto my to-do list. Instead I spend all of the moments I have on the computer. Yes, it is work, and necessary, but where are the boundaries? Where is the balance? (And why does the internet have so much access to so many great things? (And do I really need to have/learn/do all of the great things right now? NO. And yet…))

People that are loved and trusted can tear us down in their climb up to finding their own worth. Not all of them, but the love and trust doesn’t make them exempt… this is probably the most sad part about my let go journey. Relational losses are always difficult and at first I wasn’t sure it would be a full-fledged loss. I could not imagine it and certainly did not want it. I’d been too close to the situation to see the very toxic negativity that was continually being directed at me. I sat back and trusted the journey that God had me on and daily there was negative opposition that tore me down a little more.Others saw it, my breaking and the reasons, but I couldn’t. Afterword, the shock of the loss seemed incomprehensible, but the sudden weightlessness of the journey felt so free. This is what they call bittersweet, I suppose. I harbor no resentments, as I said very early that whoever is supposed to be here, will be & likewise, whoever is not will not be. There is peace in seeing that I truly did surrender myself to trusting that and in the lesson learned valuable things.

I don’t love rewatching movies as much as I used to… Oh, I really used to. There are a handful of movies that I have watched hundreds and hundreds of times. Now, in this season, I am seeing that I’m growing more selective about watching much, and the concept of rewatching sounds beyond underwhelming.

Stress really does hurt… I have been watching my husband’s stress levels rise to such levels that not only is he no longer able to do that thing which he loves the most (run), but his body is broken down to such a point that he is constantly ill. This man has literally gone years without so much as a sniffle. It is all so sad to see.

Sometimes it takes another person’s difficult season to put our own into perspective… This year I have walked along several people who are in absolutely shattered seasons of their life. I ache so terribly for them, and find myself with wider eyes, freer thoughts and a much heartier gratitude list than ever before.

I really find gratification in an empty DVR… {also- that I don’t need a DVR} I enjoy escaping with a show and snuggle down with the husband as much as anyone. I don’t feel tv is the devil, and I’ve never been anywhere near a slave to my DVR. Even so, I’m feeling much the same way about tv as I am movies…

Tulips are toxic for dogs… I learned this because my passionate love of fresh flowers and my sweet little (almost 1-year-old) Golden Elenor believed they were meant to be her snack… So she ate tulips. And it was intense, and stress filled, and most importantly- she is ok. Thus concludes the story of how this flower loving girl will never have tulips around, again.

So many people are ready to burst, needing to share their journey with someone and continually finding no one who cares… Every single day this lesson grows bigger.

Motherhood is quite possibly the kryptonite, to my life... More than anything, as a girl, I wanted a mother to mother me. More than anything, as I was older, I manually moved whatever mountains I had to, to become one. Miscarriages, surgeries, medication, procedures, foster care, failed adoptions and finally, being a mom… But that motherhood journey, for me, never had a solitary moment of peace. It was one painful struggle after another. I’ve spent an adulthood waiting for it to be that thing I’ve always believe Motherhood would be.

I have never thought I would be the rehome my dog type… And yet, this has become a daily discussion. We have a dog that grows more and more special needs, by the day. With a chronic illness, traveling (for work) husband and limited financial resources- we are at a loss. Many (MANY) nights she keeps us up with her manic behavior, which now consistently all day as well, and it is just growing worse. I am sad, so so sad to even consider. (And so overwhelmed as to how.)

I am tired… which could be the culmination of all the things, and the real blame for why I’m not reading. Truth is, I’m too tired to figure any of that out! Ha!