Category: gratitude

the simple pleasure…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay8 Comments

The world loves for us to apologize, doesn’t it? I don’t mean being remorseful over making a solid mistake, I am talking about the practice of feeling so incredibly pathetic and inadequate that we apologize simultaneously within a strain of honesty. In fact, we are so skilled at this subtle art of sorry that we don’t even have to utter the word… We deliver the message within tones indicative of the inevitable disappointment that we are surely bestowing upon those around us. A coworker may ask where we want to grab lunch and we know full well that we can not afford to go to lunch, and also that we brought leftovers from last night. So, instead we might scramble for excuses, as if having tight finances somehow makes us less than. We turn down the slice of cake with apologies about our diet, shame about our intolerances, etc. We do this with the small things, and the larger things. I’m sorry I dated people before I met you, I’m sorry that I can’t have a baby, I’m sorry that I have issues tied to past trauma… While we should become well practiced at being remorseful for hurts we’ve caused, there is never a reason to apologize about ourselves.

Take note- you probably subtly apologize forty times, in a given day. Ashamed you drank that coke, embarrassed you chose that movie, a mix of both shame and embarrassment that you love that band… Will people ridicule you for it? Maybe… But so what? We can’t all love the same things.

A few weeks ago my bff K was here visiting, and she was teasing me (lovingly, of course) for being obsessed with the Masked Singer. She couldn’t believe it when we encountered another friend who also loved the show. She thought we were both crazy because that show “looks absolutely ridiculous.” Sure, I could have not watched it that Wednesday, since she was here. That isn’t the choice I made. I giddily sat down to watch, and she sat there too, and it turned out it wasn’t quite what she thought. She found it interesting, and though that’s awesome, I wouldn’t have been hurt if she’d hated it. Are you a 47 year old woman who still listens to Brittany on your morning commute? That’s cool. Are you a grown adult who keeps Otter Pops in your freezer? Is your favorite food Kraft Mac & Cheese, but you embarrassingly pretend it is Rack of Lamb instead? Are you obsessed with Dr. Pimple Popper and a closet watcher of those things that ooze? Also cool… Whatever it is, (within legal and ethical boundaries obviously, I’m not a maniac) it’s fine. Bottom line: Give yourself the freedom to be you as authentically as possible, every single chance you can.

My very favorite movie is a little known French film entitled Amelie’. (In case you actually haven’t heard of it- that was a joke. It’s a world wide, award winning movie.) In it, the narrator takes a moment to talk about the unusual things that each character loves and derives great pleasure from. I think about it often- what my things are.

Let me ask you now, what are those simple, every day pleasures that bring you the sort of happiness that money can’t buy? (these things, they aren’t embarrassing, they are not things to be ashamed of. Love yourself and embrace yourself, quirks and all…) So, seriously, right now- grab a pad of paper and make a list. Listen to that precious, inner you and what they whisper to you. It matters. If you feel so bold, reply to this email or leave a comment and share a few…

My simple pleasures that bring me a happiness money can’t buy:

  • lowercase letters where capital letters “belong”. It’s wrong. People judge. I don’t care. (Someone once told me it was a sign of a writer’s insecurity. Nah- it is just an odd thing that I take a thrill in.)
  • using the ellipsis…
  • the smell of fresh cut pears.
  • salt on watermelon.
  • K-pop & K-drama.
  • dogs. ALL. of the dogs.
  • shapes of clouds.
  • the smell just above my husband’s lip, but just below his nose. (it is my favorite thing in the whole world- and it is free!)
  • wildflowers.
  • walking barefoot in the grass/barefoot on the beach.
  • the sound of a baseball bat cracking as it hits a ball.
  • equally- the sound a paddle makes, as it dips into the water. (when I was a little girl I would “row” my hands in the bathtub over and over and over again. It both thrills and soothes me.)
  • that moment when you learn you have something unique in common with someone. (I wish I’d began a journal decades ago, collecting those moments.)
  • Entertainment awards shows.
  • researching who people are, behind their celebrity.
  • watching bunnies/birds/squirrels in the yard.
  • the smell of clean laundry.
  • a heavy quilt, at the end of a long day.
  • eating a soft serve ice cream cone with a spoon.
  • Monopoly. (Sorry- not sorry!)
  • And as previously mentioned- the Masked Singer.

Your turn…

On being naked…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay1 Comment

Over the past month, or so, I’ve been really privileged to spend evenings in deep conversation with various women who were guests in my home. Sometimes there was laughter, and quite often there were tears. In some instances there were glasses of wine, while every time there was an abundance of food. In these moments I found myself humbled by the absolute magic that forms when we simply bring women together, in a cozy environment, and let them be. Let us be, because this includes me too.

Women are so heavily armed in layers. Many design their layers out of fashion and appearance, but in truth these shields of armor are much deeper in roots than that. While our multi-tasking minds can be a huge asset in many areas of life- it is a hinderance here. Subconciously we can judge another woman in an effort to make ourselves feel validated, while simultaneously obliterating our perception of self worth in the very same fragment of a second that we are taking stock of the countless negatives we bring to the room. It is exhausting… And we walk around under the weight of these silent, habitual patterns twenty four hours a day.

Until the magic moments happen, anyway…

Lights low, maybe a little background music. Glasses full, with whatever she wants- no judgement here… Around purply-plump grapes, cubes of cheese, warm breads piled with butter and richly colored seasonal produce. Everything warm and pleasant- slowly our layers fold back. A woman opens up about a heartbreak, and every single time another tears up because she can relate.

In that space it is suddenly safe to be truly naked, naked from our self protection and our shames. In that space we are seen.

In the times that this has happened, over these past weeks, the magic moment of amber beauty has caught me off guard, stealing my breath, every single time. You’d think I would be better prepared, but I am not. I finally realized why- because we cannot script or plan for these times. They cannot be forced or coordinated. The stripping and pealing of layers must happen organically, on their own.

May we find more naked moments…

Making Peace…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

Few women would admit to being at peace with their bodies when they are dwelling in a moment constructed of vulnerability. We pretend, sometimes. We curl the hair, cake on the mascara and do all of the things we can to make it seem like we’re so happy within our skin.

Essentially, I guess you could say we are pretty well versed at living the life of an Instagram Filter. Beneath that well manicured surface, (or maybe it isn’t well manicured at all, perhaps it is frumpy and careless because we’ve given up. Few people continue chasing something once the reality sets in that it is far more fantasy than truth.)

I have a beautiful friend who lost over 200 pounds. She was absolutely stunning before this transformation, and she is absolutely stunning now. While she has been fairly open about this journey, the most fascinating thing about sitting in her sideline is the way her self perception has shifted. She did not magically love herself and feel beautiful as soon as she reached a certain size. Isn’t this exactly how we imagine it would be? It has been a process for her, a journey… A daily walk, and she admits there are days when she still sees herself as unchanged.

Several years ago I lost 130 pounds. I’d had a medical procedure despite most of the medical professionals involved thinking it was a long shot. I felt desperate for change. Prior to the procedure I was not a soda drinker, I was not addicted to sugar. I lived on salads and smoothies, worked out regularly and did all of the things, but remained over weight. I was unhappy. I felt restricted, unattractive and sick over my patheticness with every breath. A few years before the procedure I had nearly died from Pneumonia and the biggest concern I had with bed rest was that I would put on more weight. My weight had ballooned up within the first 23 months of a hysterectomy. I was 24 years old and the whole thing was a shock to my system. (Additionally, I also had super crappy genes, so I guess maybe I was screwed either way.) Every time we relocated, a new doctor would take one look at me and decide I needed to go on a severely restrictive diet and take the weight off immediately. He/She would deliver this information clinically, making no effort to hide how deeply the disapproved of my lazy, sloth-like lifestyle. Then, as our visit would begin to develop, and the layers of my health history would unfold, their tune would change. Due to hormonal complications, there would be no weight loss, their words would be delivered with such compassion woven finality. Psychologically the best I could do would be embrace my body/self and love me for who I was. (The irony was lost on them that those very impassioned reassurances were trailing their emergent warnings about how terrible it was that I was overweight, mere minutes before…)

The surgeon wasn’t convinced my hormonal situation would allow longterm change after the procedure. I had been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia earlier that year and I knew that I needed to take some sort of action. I wasn’t in bad health otherwise. Perfect blood work, great heart. My (favorite) doctor would constantly reassure me of my perfect health.

All of this is important only because, as I said, I lost 130 pounds. I was 45 pounds away from the target weight I needed to be able to have surgery to repair the sagging skin. I was well on my way to everything I had ever wanted, and then my marriage fell apart. Smaller, (and if you aren’t familiar with WLS let me clarify- it is NOT an easy way out. It is the HARDER way out, but sometimes it is the only way out.) I did not love myself any more than I had before, I only liked the clothes I wore better. I still kept my eye on something that wasn’t where I was. My husband didn’t want me, and all of the years that I’d spent believing (to my CORE) that life would be so great if my jean size were smaller, had been wasted. If you’re wondering how this story ends- Well, the medical professional’s speculations were all right. The results of the procedure had tricked my body into a 30 lb weight loss almost immediately. Being 30 lbs lighter meant that I could be more active with significantly less chronic pain. I hit the gym 2 hours a day, 6 days a week. When I wasn’t at the gym I was either behind my laptop working, or being constantly active. It was so freeing to move without the pain I had grown accustomed to. The weight continued to fall off, though at a much slower pace. And then, it stopped. I plateaud for around eleven months, and then slowly the scale started to go the other way. Hormonally, they say, I regulated and well… Some days a walk around the block is excruciating.

This time, though I’m not happy about the weight gain, and I do wish I could even be back to the plateau size that I didn’t appreciate, I also don’t allow myself to refuse to truly live my life because of my weight. I think I am still holding in far more frustration than peace, for my body, but I am far better than I was. We’ve all got our thing, that justifiable (to us) thing which holds us back… and this truth is the same in all areas of our lives- physically, mentally, spiritually, relationally… We all have that thing that we use to excuse why we can’t simply accept ourselves, love ourselves, make peace and move forward.

In this week’s NEW episode, of the Collective Podcast, my cohost Nikki and I sit down to talk with author Lyndsey Medford about her book Making Friends with My Body and God, and the journey she took to get to that space of peace and friendship. She’s a lovely, brilliant woman with such a motivating way of facing what can be difficult things. Episode 52 is a great episode, and I can’t wait for you to get to meet Lyndsey. Hopefully you’ve read something here, or you’ll hear something there, that helps you take a step towards love for your journey.

Uncovering Magic…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay1 Comment

The whirring of the fan, bringing outside air in, consumes most of the sound space. Beyond that, the hum of the dehumidifier is almost defeaning. I don’t mind powering them off for this moment. It is October, yet the world of western Pennsylvania is not quite ready to relinquish us to sweaters and wool socks. Soon, she promises.

From the room across the hall another fan can be heard, but beyond that there is only normal Wednesday morning silence to accompany the clacking of these laptop keys.

Even when the world seems silent, a lot can be heard when we take the time to listen. When we intentionally turn off the noise, sink in to the present minute we’re fortunate enough to have, and tune our ears to take it all in…

Can you rest in this moment, wherever you are, and try to hear?

There are birds in my distance. Almost yelping, that is if birds yelp. (I don’t know what kind of birds they are, though truthfully I wish I did. Living here, with such a heavy wildlife presence I think of wanting to learn more about the birds, but I’m not in that place of self education quite yet.) It is that squawky sound of an entire flock of birds, known to accompany autumnal sounds. Are they preparing for their long journey south? If I learn what they are, will they take me with them?

The coffee pot beeped, just now, telling me that it’s patience for me is over.

The trees sway, though slightly, so with them comes no sound. At least not sound that I can hear from this side of my window glass.

I need to commit myself to pausing more. Busy is ok, but the quiet, still, absorbent moments are essential. The faint giggle of far away children trickled through that still air just as I typed out the world essential and I was reminded of how magic moments truly are. Real life magic is all around us, but quite often we are so busy (or distracted) that we can’t see it.

Recently, a guest on the Collective Podcast reminded me of the Maya Angelou quote “When you know better, you DO better.” and since our chat, I’ve thought of those words often. I am just as guilty, as the next person, of being slow to learn things and even slower to put them into practice. I am not proud. My life truth is probably more like When you know better, you should do better. What I do know is that each time I take an intentional pause to make notes of what I hear, what I see, and allow my soul to simply absorb the unplugged and real life happening within the world around me, I feel far more recharged than anything actual electricity is going to bring me.

If you’d love some really great wisdom about how we create our own circumstances, “logging out” of the busy and just embracing who we are at our core, tune in to today’s podcast episode #51! The show is back with all new episodes and I am so lucky to get to spend time connecting with such extraordinary and brave women! I can’t wait for you to know them too!

We are them too…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

There is this amazing time-lapse video bouncing around the internet that shows the blossoming of various mushrooms deep within forested areas. It is absolutely fascinating, disgusting, inspiring and flat-out-weird all at once. Isn’t that life, though? Most of the time.

As humans, we stumble upon stories ripped straight from the lives of others. The horrific crimes we can’t comprehend, the amazing tales of survival and super human fathomings. We love the miraculous, the oddly tragic- the real life stories. To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever been inspired to do something bold, brave or heroic after looking at an individual, upon hearing about their boring upbringing, which was followed closely by their average college, marriage and work experience, carrying them to this point of completely mundane normalcy. Films and books certainly aren’t written about people like this.

Two reasons for this are:

  • because that sort of life wouldn’t really inspire much of anything. (Maybe a little envy from someone whose lot in life has been particularly harsh.)
  • That sort of life doesn’t really exist. A perception of that sort of life can, but that sort of life itself? It’s not even possible. There may be seasons when we identify with feelings that our own journeys have been that uneventful. There will be other times, perhaps when we’re drowning in our own overwhelm, and we may perceive someone else’s seemingly drama free life is just like that.
  • bonus point- the moral of the lesson here is, just because something may look, or feel a certain way, in a moment- doesn’t mean that it is.

That idea, the idea of normal + boring, I think most of us have pretty wrong. We think, in times of distress, that this must be what simplicity and peace is like. It wouldn’t be. That imaginary life I’ve described? It is a one dimensional, apathetic version of what we minimize in our minds. Period. We only feel our lives are dull and boring, when we are discontent in our own circumstances. We only reduce someone else’s story to such when we are attempting to reduce them, in our minds, or when our circumstances feel too big/loud and we long for small/quiet. It is a perception. Period.

If we could see a time-lapse of our own lives, we would be amazed. There are hardships and heartbreaks we’ve all known, and many of us are living them as I type this. Sometimes it is easy to hear the circumstances of our own journeys in comparison to another person and think we have nothing to share. It isn’t true. Each and every one of us have lives comprised of many things, things both beautiful and horrifying, that others may need to see.

We love the stories of the hero who lived through incredible difficulties, overcame extreme odds and we sit through the movies and documentaries about them, awed. They inspire us. We read books about them, tell others about them, and often make changes in our own lives because of the incredible examples those people were. Our entire world is built on the foundation of everyday people living through something and then paving the way for a better future because of it. (NOT despite it. BECAUSE OF IT.)

Guess what, friend- you and I? We are that very sort of person. The abuses we’ve known, the mistakes we’ve made- these things can bury us in their rubble, if we let them. How do we not allow that to happen? We choose not to let it. We move on, altered for the better, because. Because, because, BECAUSE- Always.

Someone, somewhere, can see the time lapse of your life (in a sense… not an actual time-lapse video, because that would honestly be awkward for everyone.) and move forward, for the better, too. The mushroom is merely a fungus, living on the ground, and sprouting from the mildewed bits of dirt on the forest floor. Often they are toxic. Sometimes they can make people happy, or paranoid, or what have you. Some of them are ugly, many are beautiful and often they are an annoyance. They come from the worst, often remain the worst- but their journey when viewed with a nutshell perspective is mesmerizing.

Friend, we are so much more than forest fungus. We may come from the worst, but we don’t have to settle for becoming that.