Category: self care

foraging…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

This summer is speeding by, which should feel a bit mixed-blessing, but also feelings are weird right now so nothing is hitting quite normal. That’s ok. I think the most important part is we realize and admit it instead of holding expectations for ourselves based on the perception of how things used to be–how WE used to be…

This past month had me officially quitting the daily drinking of coffee, upon waking. Maybe it’s my fibro, maybe it’s just stress or age… it could be anything really, but this daily cup is no longer good for my body. (ha! was it ever great for my health?) I miss it, because I truly enjoyed it. That being said, I have begun drinking iced coffee some afternoons, and I love that. Adapting how much milk versus coffee, flavor, etc. It has been an adventure. It isn’t every day, but it is definitely the pick me up some afternoons really need!

As I was processing through the whole coffee debacle, (my enneagram wing 5 really shining through here) I had several friends recommend mushroom coffee. The glowing recommendations coupled with the delectable descriptions– elements of a sweetly spiced chai, or the creaminess of a nutty cocoa. By my opinion, it is like none of these things. It wasn’t a good fit, for me. That being said, if you’re a mushroom coffee lover and you have some advice on how to make it incredible, I’ve read the health benefits and am willing to try again.

July also played out as the third month that I’d be dealing with the unexplained arm/nerve pain. It has, at times, been very debilitating. I’ve had doctors say it’s fibro. I’ve had physical therapists say it’s a sleep injury. Pretty much everyone is shooting in the dark with guess, but the likelihood is that its related to my second vaccine dosage, otherwise entitled Long Term Moderna Arm. Good times. (Disclaimer: I am still very much in favor of vaccines, and do not doubt that this is a complication due to combined issues from fibro and the shot.)

Because of the previous issue mentioned, sleep has been in micro doses. Can one micro-dose sleep? At any rate, my schedule is all out of sorts.

I also used July to practice making Instagram Reels (on the fence), working on my manuscript and progressing that journey, and finding opportunity for more connections.

As we step gracefully into August, I’m wondering if these next thirty-one days could be where the real magic lay. I am a super big nerd when it comes to oddball holidays, so I thought I’d share some fun things about the days ahead.

  • This is Admit You’re Happy Month. {Listen, please allow yourself to be happy when you are. Also, please be honest with yourself when you aren’t. Happiness is neither to be expected or required. This is stupid.}
  • It is also Romance Awareness Month. {I mean, What?!?!}
  • Both Picnic and Peach month. {I can get behind these}
  • National Eye Exam Month. {Interesting that this is scheduled along with romance awareness and seeing your happiness. Hmmm.}
  • Today, August 1st, is Friendship Day! Yay! It is ALSO International Forgiveness Day.
  • 2nd- Ice Cream Sandwich Day {YES, PLEASE!}
  • 4th- Chocolate Chip Cookie day {just a few months ago was chocolate chip day. Could be combine them and give a day to something more rewarding maybe??? Just a thought.}
  • 5th- National Underwear Day. {*crickets*}
  • 8th- International Cat Day
  • 9th- Book Lover’s Day
  • 10th- Lazy Day; National Smores Day
  • 12th- World Elephant Day
  • 15th- Relaxation Day
  • 17th- National Thriftshop Day
  • 18th- Bad Poetry Day
  • 19th- National Potato Day {Idaho REPRESENT!}
  • 25th- National Banana Split Day
  • 26th- Women’s Equality Day and National Dog Day

Some thoughts… PERHAPS we should have less food days (though they are delicious) and lazy/rest/nap (that one was a different months) days and just educate people on how to rest, take care of themselves, balance priorities, etc. Most of these days are just ridiculous or funny. Lighthearted and worth celebrating, perhaps… But keeping a focus on these things that truly matter.

Moral of the story: Grab an ice cream sandwich this month. Write a note to a friend. Take naps, read books, and listen to your body. This is how we live our lives, love our lives, admit we are happy, and celebrate US.

Also, go get your eyes checked…

the best of things…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

Inspired by Emily P. Freeman, I’m spending a little time with her reflection questions and considering what I learned this spring. She asks the following questions:

What was your favorite photo from May?

As the season unfolded it became clear that the normal spring we craved wasn’t just going to happen. March faded into April and so many of us sat waiting for it to feel the ways in which we’ve believed spring should feel– and it never did. In the realizing this, with May came accepting that we had the power to choose a new way to approach spring-mentality. With that, here in Pennsylvania, also came a lot of rain.

Rainy days are rejuvenating, but rainy days in the month of May are special. They carry with them a sort of life-giving magic.

Name a thoughtful moment in May.

I stood outside a closed window, in the middle of some bushes and landscape rocks, peering through at my mother. She sat slumped, vacant, in a leather recliner. She could see me, I think, but mostly I believe she saw through me. Through me, beyond me, into something that I could never reach. She couldn’t understand we were there to visit her. For over a year she’d gone without the loving embrace of someone who cares about her.

When I’d visit I would try to brush her hair, and rub lotion on her cracked and aching feet. Most of the time she knew what was happening, but sometimes she did not. Que the pandemic. I’ve only seen her “in person” twice, both times with a pane of plastic or glass between us.

This time, seeing her catatonic and missing, I had to wonder what the next time will be like. Will there ever be a time when I run a brush through her long, grey hair again and she knows that I am her daughter?

i just don’t know.

What’s something you look forward to in June?

My dear, beautiful friend is coming to visit and I cannot wait! She and her precious babies will be in my house. We will laugh face to face and it will be so unfathomably glorious!

8 Things I learned this spring…

  • My body does not heal or grow by my mind-designed time table.
  • I am most at peace with God outside of a “church”. I’d been teetering there for awhile, but finally I surrender.
  • I need to force myself to read more.
  • More about where the land I live on originated. The Native American history is something we all need to intentionally learn about. I’m trying.
  • Different doesn’t mean bad. Sometimes new and different can be better, and sometimes it won’t. Even so, holding space for the different is almost always a good idea.
  • I don’t have to do all of the things.
  • It is important to me that when it comes to publishing my work, the publishing and representative relationships I form are sensitive regarding the topics of inclusivity, mental health, abuse and sexual assault. I will not hand my work over to a publishing house, in exchange for royalties, who may choose to publish someone who contradicts those values. This was a huge moment for me.
  • My body may not look like I wish it did, but she has carried amazingly difficult burdens. She has been through so much physical pain, almost since her very beginning, and it is my responsibility to love every ounce of her.

chasing normal…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

On Saturday evening we had friends over for dinner. We ate my husband’s special Chorizo Tacos (this man is incredible, I’m telling you!) and played some really fun games. There was laughter intermittent with deep discussion. It was all so normal, triggering moments of memory from the Great Before, while also feeling not normal at all.

That last part is tricky.

As our friends readied to leave, just after midnight, one of them hugged me and said “Let’s not wait a year to do this!”

A year.

The last time we’d seen these two beautiful souls, who live minutes from us, we were at the wrap of 2019. In context, that feels like insanity. Last year lasted so many eternities that the thought of having not seen these friends since BEFORE that is unfathomable. It is almost like we saw them, some weeks passed, we hit pause and then they came over for tacos.

How do we measure life within that pause?

In hugs?

I have hugged my husband a billion times. I hugged my dear friend Maggie several times, back in October. I have hugged my sweet friend Amanda everytime I’ve seen her, which feels regularly, but in all actuality may only equal 8 or 9 times within that year. And then, then Saturday I hugged Ashley and Jessica.

It would seem the span of pause is measured more in isolated conversations, mentions of the virus, bizarre weather patterns, deep self-realizations, and face masks.

We are heading out of town next week where face masks and hugs will be a plenty. I love to go and am so stir crazy, yet the thought of being somewhere else is giving me anxiety. Is it safe to go?

Let’s be honest, it is fair to also ask if it’s safe to stay…

My husband is vaccinated and I’m awaiting my turn. While I wait, I long for sun on my face, adventure and a life lived. Within this paused space of isolation, it is clear to see the toll life has taken on my body and my health. Autoimmune illness has had its way with me, leaving me crumpled in the corner, used. Something has to change, and that chase is what I’m here for. Whatever lies at the end of this new quest for anything other than this, will likely not look like anything that came before- and that’s ok. Changes happen, we evolve.

I am different now, just as life is different.

Even so, I’m ready to step outside and look for normal. My laces are tied and the sun is shining, wanna come?

just a case of the february…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

I hit the second half of February in solid migraine form. I was in bed, living in a heightened state of nausea. The following week my husband had his second dose of the Pfizer vaccine and he was down for the count for three blurred-together days. (his blur, not mine. I was clear headed, but they were unnaturally long days.) The day that he felt human again was the day I was knocked back down:

fever.

chills.

migraine fest.

fatigue.

It was like we were tag-teaming on the worst part of winter blues and seasonal illness, except that he had a reason and I really did not.

In this era of C-19, when every sniffle raises a heightened paranoia, I made the decision to label whatever mystery was bringing me down (life? fibro? stress?) as February.

Are you feeling better? What do you think it was? I am, and February. It was February.

It works, don’t you think? It works because February is possibly the worst of the months. Winter is dragging on (or unfairly pummelling Texas, if we’re lasering in on this year) and though the days are growing a bit longer, it doesn’t matter too much when it’s still cold outside.

Beyond realizing that February is my least favorite of the twelve months, I thought I’d take this end-of-the-month reflection time to share some other things I’ve learned through these past four painfully long weeks:

  • Our little rescue kitten Darcy is nine months old. No one told me that nine months would bring her heat cycle. It was short, but those days were intense. Mostly we both just felt so bad for her. Bless. Also, our vet can’t get her in until April… Will she cycle again? I know nothing… except that the vet will only see her 8 weeks POST cycle so fingers crossed she does not.
  • Because we could not go out for Mardi Gras (something we love to do, even if we are here in the north), I decided to make some Creole food at home. The dirty rice was pretty meh, but the shrimp dish I made was PHENOMENAL and the beignets were a bit like heaven. All in all, a win.
  • A fellow writer talked skeptical me into joining Clubhouse. I was 100% convinced it was stupid and I’d hate it. It turns out it’s timely, pretty fantastic and I love it. Since so much of my job and passion involve community and connection, it has been an incredible experience.
  • Meundies. Have you heard of them? I was told they were the “softest and most comfortable underwear on the planet” and, once again, I was super skeptical. I was wrong. They are heaven. Also, here’s a code to save you $20. Trust me, you WANT to save it to this.
  • I spent moments in February coming face to face with my pride. Really questioning why something may have hurt my feelings and realizing it was up to me to keep myself in check. Sometimes that self reflection can feel really scary and trust me, I am no expert. Growth can be painful, but these growth moments were so healing.

And now, we are practically at March. A beautiful, closer to Spring blank slate and I am here for it- tired, but ready…

some form of something…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

As a classic self-doubter with added combo bonus of overthinking, when I set out to learn about liturgies, last month, I was unprepared. Initially, writing a liturgy was a bit of a challenge that came about in my Mastermind group. While the other women talked about the books they’d read and their own experience with liturgies, I sat scribbling mental notes that looked a bit like Learn how to write a liturgy.

And so, I googled “how to write a liturgy.”

Then I scoured pinterest in search of the best, most straight forward liturgy how-to.

I kept my eyes peeled for some mystery webinar on the subject, which would inevitably pop up in my internet ads, as literally all things I search for do.

I had misconceived that I had to create some formal/fancy form or religious, old-fashioned poetry.

When I found no guidance, I began reaching out (subtly at first, and later full-on-begging) for ANYONE to tell me how this was to be done. I needed help…

But really, I didn’t.

I believed that I needed line by line instruction, and could list out a dozen (plus) reasons why I was not capable of such a task. (things like my lack of education, my disregard for traditional writing strategy and rules. Good grief, I hadn’t even known what a liturgy was before last month.)

My lovely friend sent me the book Every Moment Holy and, as I poured over the pages of beautifully crafted captures of often ordinary moments, I began to see myself in them.

In the cups of coffee.

In the moments of mundane uncertainty.

In vibrant sunsets as well as the eighth miserable day of Pennsylvania drizzle. Slowly, I began to understand this need that I have to operate on a level deeper than merely existing. I began to realize that this notion of liturgy could be my how.

I could chop vegetables for a stew, while being overwhelmed with the volume of pain I felt with each movement, because this body of mine lives in a constant state of such hardship… OR… I could choose to work through this place of intentional gratitude for my ability to make dinner at all, preparing the meal with love. I could choose to soak in the stillness of routine, coupled with the natural engaging of my senses, as I did the tasks before me. Suddenly, the basic chore of folding my husband’s t-shirts had become something so much deeper, and satisfying.

The truth is, I’m just me. Some super brilliant theologian could stumble upon these words and tell me I’ve got it all wrong. To this I may respond two ways… First, I may urge them to move along because everything here is not meant for them, and I feel complete peace in that. Second, while many may feel that my acts of doing the mundane in intentional and connected ways cannot be an act of worship, I kindly disagree.

Here’s what I know:

When my feet sink deep, into collapsing sand as the sea kisses its shore, I am my most authentic me. As the sound of waves crashing thunders throughout my very core, I am my most connected me. While the aroma of salt and life take over my senses, working together to form this entire experience, I am directly plugged into the very thing that fills me up. I believe this is God, and I begin operating on a wavelength so different than everyday life. For me, this is my truest form of worship. It does not need “praise hands” lifted high, or Chris Tomlin written lyrics sung from my lips.

When I am in a still, mossy wooded space, deep in the mountains, I am my most authentic me. With the morning, patches of fog littering the air, I am my most connected me. The gentle gurgle of a creek breathing life, somewhere nearby, can carry me straight into that same wavelength of centered connection.

The collection of these moments keep me going in the harder times, as I believe they are the moments when I was tapped into my Creator… In those times, I am made up up gratitude, love and serenity…

My reality, however, is that I cannot always take to the coastline or the mountaintop. What if I could choose some form of something in my daily moments along the way?

My life is not a liturgy. I am WAY too messed up for that. I am learning that my days however, can contain them…

(In the most synchronistic turn of events, I stumbled upon a 30 day instagram challenge, for the month of November, utilizing the hashtag #liturgyofthelittlethings. Already, just a few days in, this has been a centering practice during these days of anxiety and election overwhelm.)