Hindsight is 2020, Right? A Life Full Of Cliches

As cliche as it sounds coming out of my mouth, the year 2020 will forever be one that stands out in our minds. It’ll be the year we talk about to our grandchildren as we sit around the crackling fireplace with a whiskey in our shaky hand (due to the unfortunate habit we picked up during pandemic times) as they listen on with wide-eyed wonder and palpable disbelief. It’ll forever be the year that stains our memories with the knowledge of what is really everyone’s deepest fear: a dirty butt and nothing to wipe it with.

Weaved in between the thirty-nine weeks since the pandemic started (at the time of writing this and yes, I actually counted) there has been an onslaught of events leaving us all spinning and mouthing “what the f*&K is going on?” many times over as we navigate this dystopian reality we find ourselves in. Except, it’s not the movies. This is real life and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, ever so often, looking over my shoulder for the gapping wounded, discolored walking dead hobbling behind me. And I still pray to God that if that happens they are the slow kind.

I don’t know that there is a single person who’s life has not been altered in some way. For some, it’s been devastating and for others, it’s been inconvenient.

For me, 2020 has been one of the most transformative years to date. Yeah yeah, I know, I’m one of THOSE people. The ones that took the lemons of 2020 and made a nice, sugary sweet lemonade with them. But I’m also one of those people who probably added just a touch of Vodka, well, more like whiskey because I hate vodka, in there to dull the pain just a smidgen. Don’t be fooled dear readers, 2020 was both brutally painful and uniquely beautiful in my world too. However, I did garner some of the biggest personal growth and healing since I began walking down this path several years ago.

This week marks one year since mold in my yurt had me homeless and displaced wondering what the hell was happening. Looking back though, I see clearly what was going on. I’m stubborn and often the only way I will make the change my heart really wants is on the heels of a catastrophe. And yes, I’m working on that one too in 2021.

A year later and there is not a day that goes by that I am not utterly grateful that life took the twists and turns it did to get me to move home. Seattle is and forever will be my sweet, wonderful, heavenly, perfect idea of home.

And here I am lying in bed writing this thinking about how in just a few short weeks we will turn yet another calendar page and “gracefully” glide into 2021. All I can think is, what the f*%k is in store for us this year? I suppose by gracefully what I really mean is tripping and stumbling over the wreckage that is 2020.

On a global level I pray that this pandemic finds a way to slow down and with recent news of a vaccine near ready, I’m filled with mixed emotions. I’m not necessarily anti-vax but I’m not necessarily going to be first in line either. On one hand, I want to be able to do the things I love freely, on the other hand, I don’t want to preemptively put something in my body before we know the full effects. And therein lies the paradox. I want my old way of moving through the world back but I’m not sure I want to do what is required of me to get there.

I, along with the rest of the world, wait with bated breath to see if the January presidential transition goes as smoothly as I hope but then I remember who is our current president and my belly contracts as I think about all the ways in which the narcissistic maniac will throw a seven-year-old tantrum on his way out. I will have my popcorn ready and my couch cushions fluffed as this horror film that is our government slowly unfolds.

Then there is my own back yard. What will my own life look like in the year to come? As I think back over the last twelve months I’m kind of in ah at what has transpired. The rollercoaster of events has me realizing that, as the painfully annoying but ridiculously true old cliche goes, “life is, in fact, short.”

I don’t know that I need to give you a rundown of what has transpired in my life over the last year. I feel like I do a pretty good job documenting it on social media. As I reflect though, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for the tremendous growth I’ve experienced and all the hard work I have put in to feel like me I was born to be. (I can just keep going with all the cliches. I both loath and love them.)

And so I sit here and think about the new year. I’m not really a resolutions person because when I make resolutions I always find that I fall very short of them and then I feel even more shame for my budding list of failures. However, I also recognize that I don’t “reach for the stars” and “set my eyes on the prize” because I am scared of falling short. So, it’s basically this ever-persistent juxtaposition really.

So, I’m going to do it. 2021 is going to be the year that I “think I can” and “just do it.”

So here it goes.

Here is my list.

Here are my goals.

Here…is what I resolve to do.

A DEEPER SENSE OF SECURITY

Let’s be honest, my life is a revolving door of chaos. It’s my comfort zone. I get bored when things are going smoothly. I know this. I’m addressing it in therapy. What I’m learning through EMDR is that it is mimicking the environment I grew up in. It’s what I know. It’s what I know I can survive, even if it is painful. My hope though is that through consistent therapy and EMDR sessions I will learn to live more comfortably in the calm and less so in the storm. Fingers crossed.

DATE WITH AN OPEN HEART

I want to believe there is a person out there that matches my version of weird. The past few months with dating have been interesting, shining a big bright light on all my wounds and abandonment issues and the big, grey elephant in the room. Which is, being vulnerable enough to allow the kind of partner I want into my life TERRIFIES ME. But I really do want to have that kind of love experienced in this lifetime. The kind of love that shakes me to my core. The kind of love I trust like I never knew was possible. The kind of love where they stay instead of leave. And I know now that this requires me to be a bit more open to receiving it.

STRATEGIC SOCIAL MEDIA TIME

Hi, my name is Amanda and I am a social media number. As much as I want to get off of social media all together I can’t quite it. I’ve tried. Many times. For starters, I have a small creative business and most of my art is sold via Instagram and my writing pieces circulate the web too. This one kind of went viral.

Second, I have actually met some really amazing individuals on social media and it has been a lifesaver in pandemic times. However, I can be more strategic with my time on it and that is exactly what I plan on doing. No more scrolling to numb.

PODCAST

Everyone has a story. This is a fact I believe deeply in. Even if you don’t think anyone would want to hear yours, I beg to differ. I started a podcast in October with this in mind. Then I got overwhelmed and took a six-week-long break. Between all the emotions circulating around the election, my last minute idea of a Christmas ornament that sold way more then I thought it would, and then getting trapped in a coffee shop with a mentally ill man who was just released from prison and crouching down in a corner as a fight broke out (yep, that really happened), I kind of got overwhelmed. I’m back though and developing a strategy to keep me consistent. You can listen to it here.

BLOG MORE

Writing for me is transformative. It teaches me so much about my thought process and the inner workings of my being. I also have been getting a lot of feedback from people that they would like for me to share more. I also think it’s partly what I am here to do. Write. Share. Hopefully make people say, “Huh. Interesting.” So, I’m going to do more of it. Write.

Write for other publications

As I just said above, I’m a writer. There is no more denying that and I deserve to make money writing. So, that is what I intend to do. Build an audience writing on other publications. I even have this secret dream of writing an op-ed for The New York Times on my famili’s experience with Lynch Syndrome and Cancer and a million other topics.

X AMOUNT IN WOODWORKING SALES

I think I need to finally just admit that my woodworking is no longer a hobby. It’s one of my main jobs and I deserve to make good money doing it. So I’m setting quarterly sales goals and creating spreadsheets and graphs and all the stuff that my Virgo side’s dreams are made of.

PAINT

I keep getting that quiet whisper to start painting landscapes. I’m not sure where this one is going but I’m excited to begin when I have a little more time.

READ A BOOK A MONTH

As the world’s slowest reader, this is a lofty goal. I typically only have time to read before bed but by then I’m too tired so I read, maybe a page, and then put the book down. At that rate, I’m looking at, well, a book a year. I guess I need to step up my game a bit. With my more strategic social media plan, I suppose I will have more time.

So, there it is. No majorly crazy goals. All realistic. All doable. Looking over this list nothing seems too out of reach. It’s really just taking the things I am doing now and building consistent habits around them.

But then again, consistency and me having never had the best of relationships. I guess I’ll add that one to the list too.

The Stories That Lie Just Beneath

Sometimes I stand staring at my naked body in the mirror running my fingers along the scars that scatter my stomach as if they were braille and I was trying to read the stories that live buried deep beneath them.

I try and remember the intimate details of memories from a long time ago. All that comes to mind are vague and scattered ones. Only bits and pieces, sounds, and smells.

The beeping of the machine that connected the pic line into my inner bicep that pumped the three different liquids into me fighting to keep the infection at bay and keep me alive. I remember the day the technician came into my room to insert the pic line and how while she was inserting the line up my arm she told me that if the line went the wrong direction she could blow out my eardrum and how I started crying and demanded that she stop and asked if there was another way and how they wheeled me down somewhere else to finish what she started.

I remember another procedure in a cold room in the basement of the hospital a week after my first surgery when they asked me to lie on my stomach and how I looked at them as if they were crazy and around the room realizing I was all alone and had nobody to defend for me. I sobbed because I was so scared of the pain. My stomach had been cut open and they were asking me to lie flat on it and I still could barely even walk by myself. They gave me valium to calm me down as they inserted the plastic tube into my left butt cheek and deep into my pelvis to help drain the infection that was trying to kill me.

Then the muffled voices of doctors and nurses shuffling around the hallway. I remember Chris the Charge Nurse and how I loved her and everyone that worked on the Swedish seven southwest surgical floor.

I remember watching my mom sob uncontrollably at the end of the hall as they wheeled me back for emergency surgery right after my surgeon told us he was going to have to give me a temporary ileostomy bag. She sobbed for me because she knew my biggest fear was coming true but I was too sick to care. She cared enough for both of us and that image of her crying as she watched me roll away is burned into my mind.

And the mixed smells of sterilization and illness that wafted throughout the halls and the taste that filled my mouth as they injected certain drugs into my line.

I remember waking up in my room from the first surgery, eyes fluttering open, head still foggy from anesthesia and pain meds. The pain I’ll never forget. The excruciating pain and staring up at my older brother looking down at me with his big hopeful smile as I whispered, “Am I going die?”

I trace the smooth six-inch reminder of this time knowing these memories will never go away. These memories will always be there teasing me with the complicated emotions that come from a trauma like this. That one time when someone else’s mistake cost me something great and how what I didn’t know then was that I’d never be able to have children because of it.

There are other memories too. Ones that make me smile. Like how if it wasn’t for that time in my life my older brother would have never met his wife and I wouldn’t have my niece and nephews. She was the nurse that happened to be in the hall when my mom rushed to find help as I stood sobbing naked in the bathroom after the seal broke on my temporary ileostomy bag and everything starting leaking down my leg to the ground below. I remember the door opened and she was backlit by the sunlight and I couldn’t see her face, I could only hear her sweet, comforting voice and somehow I just knew she’d be in my life forever.

Or how every night my dad would come into my hospital room and curl up on the reclining chair next to my bed and we’d watch a documentary about the Green River Killer or the latest on the aftermath of the Tsunami in Thailand until we both fell asleep and how the nurses never asked him to leave. In the middle of the night, I’d have to pee and he’d jump up and we’d fall into habit, helping me put on my socks with the sticky grips on the bottom and unplugging and untangling the cords from the wall from my machine as he slowly pulled me up from the bed.

I remember this one time I needed to feel the January sun on my face so he and I snuck out a back door of the hospital and into a concrete garden and stood there, hand wrapped tightly around the machine pumping different liquids into me as I closed my eyes and felt the sun for the first time in days.

And how after work my older brother would come to sit beside my bed and read the writings of C.S. Lewis to me as I drifting in and out of sleep. I don’t remember a single word but I do remember thinking how his love for God would be enough for both of us.

Then this one time I was sitting on the edge of my hospital bed crying about something I can’t remember what. My mom stood in front of me trying to help me get up. She was growing impatient and I was feeling sorry for myself. I don’t remember why but suddenly we looked at each other and both started laughing and it hurt my stomach so bad but I didn’t care because it felt so good to feel joy for that brief moment. That’s my mom and I for you with our secret language and understanding and perfect timing.

And then there was the day I went from bad to good. From sick to healing. From walking a thin line to turning the corner. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was day seven. I woke up and felt better. I felt the life come back to my cheeks and I ate real food for the first time in a week and saw hope for the first time too. My surgeon came into my room and said he could take out the drain in my butt cheek that had become almost unbearable at that point because of where it was and he said, “okay, count to three.” I was so scared it was going to hurt but by three he had already taken it out and I felt nothing but a relief I had been desperate to feel for a week.

I went home two days later but that is a story for another time because those are the stories from only two of the nine scars on my stomach.

Most days I just see the scars that scatter my belly but sometimes, these are the memories that come rushing back when I look at my stomach as I think about how scars are these crazy visual reminders of stories from our lives and nobody ever knows until you open your mouth to tell them.

Beginnings, Endings and the Space In Between

“Sometimes what you think is an end is only a beginning."

What I know about beginnings and endings goes a little something like this.

Beginnings are euphoric. They hold a mysterious quality that feels like an opportunity. Anything is possible. Your imagination goes wild and the world is your oyster. 

Your heart flutters, you walk a little bit lighter, you smile bigger, your optimism is palpable and it’s as if you could take on the world.

Beginnings are full of life. They make your blood pump and your palms sweaty. You feel unstoppable. You feel, alive. 

Endings on the other hand, often feel like a death.  For many of us, a deep mourning sets in and we wait and feel and sometimes, we can’t figure out why we feel the way we feel or how we even feel for that matter.

And we even go to great lengths to numb those feelings that start to surface. 

The ending, or death, of a relationship, a job, a friendship, a lifelong dream, a hope can impact us all the same.

We must say goodbye to something that once was a beginning. Sometimes it's bittersweet, and other times, it hurts. A lot.

Here is the thing I’m learning about endings; there is an exponential amount of learnings that you can take and bring forth into the new beginning that is right around the corner.

That is not to say that endings are not excruciating and you can't always see or are even ready for that growth. Especially when it involves saying goodbye to someone you loved deeply. I do know from my own experiences, and what I have heard from some people closest to me, that eventually, with time, you start to wade through the fuzzy waters of pain and start to see beginnings again.

It does come, eventually. I promise. 

And you can’t have a beginning without some kind of ending and you can’t have an ending without some kind of beginning.

That's just life. It's cyclical. Look at the span of a year and the beginnings and endings that come with each passing season. You not only can see if physically but you can literally feel it within you. 

This one little notion has helped me wade through some pretty dark waters. After my divorce, even though it was my decision and felt like an empowered one, I was struck by a grief so thick and so unexpected, at times I could barely scrape myself off the playroom floor which was my temporary bedroom. It was one of the most confusing times of my life and some of the most excruciating pain I've ever been through.

And coming off the year I just had, again I found myself in the depths of so much heaviness and fear, at times I didn't know which way was up and which way was down. 

As I felt my way through the darkness, I eventually saw a glimmer of light that gave me hope.

And then, there it was. A beginning...  

But I've been wondering lately if putting that much meaning and weight and waiting for beginnings and endings actually create more suffering? Wouldn't life be more peaceful if we learn to find more balance in the in-between places?

It seems to me we are in love with the beginnings and deeply fear endings. When we are so focused on either, or, aren't we missing the beat all together? Aren't we missing what life is truly about...LIVING. 

Ask anyone who has lost someone by death or someone who they themselves are dying and they all pretty much say the same thing; I wish I would have lived more in the moment, especially with those I love. I wish I would have held their hand longer, watched more sunsets with them, forgiven sooner, let go of more and held their gaze longer. And I definitely wish I would have said I love you way more. 

For me, my current lesson is letting go of expectations that come with new beginnings and not fear unavoidable endings. Because again, life is cyclical. Beginnings and endings will always be apart of all of our lives. 

I'm learning, every day,  to just live right where I am at. And it is not easy. Believe me when I say this. As someone who struggles with horrible anxiety, I have to remind myself of this so many times throughout the day. "Just sit with this Amanda. Just be here right now, Amanda. Take a big breath Amanda You will be okay Amanda."

 I'm learning, slowly, to appreciate every person and experience for what it is teaching me. To trust that whatever is meant to be in my life will be. And not fear those things that feel are coming to an end.

Because... there will always, and forever, be another beginning right around the corner. 

10 Subtle Ways to Feel Different in 2018 and Keep the Momentum Going

It's a new year. Doesn't that feel so good?

The beginning of a new year always seems to be full of so much hope and clarity. It's an opportunity to begin again. Start over. Do things differently. 

We charge into January with so much intention, so much motivation, so much gusto. 

We are moving and shakin' our bodies. We are eating clean and healthy. We are in a state of gratitude and practicing some big shifts. We are on a roll. We are abundant!

Then, slowly, it starts to taper off. We skip the workout class to meet friends for happy hour but on the drive there, promise ourselves that tomorrow we will move our person once again.

But we don't. 

We crave pizza and cocktails and tell ourselves that it is just this one time. Tomorrow we will eat well again. 

But again, we don't. All of those things we wanted for ourselves start to slowly slip away. 

We find old thoughts and behaviors creeping in slowly and before we know it, it's as if we are back in 2017 all over again. 

Nooooo!

Kidding. 2017 wasn't that bad. 

Again, I kid. 2017 can take a big old hike!

Okay, okay,  it wasn't that bad. I had some pretty incredible things happen in 2017 too. But I am rather happy to flip the calendar on that one. 

I know I'm not the only one who is happy to say goodbye to 2017. It seems a lot of us had a bit of a difficult year and were more than happy to say peace! See ya later! Sayonara! 

But you see, the thing is, I really don't ever want to wish a year away again. The years are moving faster and faster and well, we are only allotted so many of them and I hope to make them all count. 

Be it a "good" or "bad" year,  all of it has an offering for us. This is coming off a year that more times then I care to admit, had me wailing on the floor in the middle of my living room.

So much of it made no sense to me.

However, I am starting to see things a bit clearer and although I may never say that it all happened for a reason, I am starting to see more clarity in how I can take those crappy moments and turn them into something really meaningful. 

And damn it feels good to feel optimistic again. 

I have something pretty awesome and big things in the works. I'll be so excited to share it with you soon. 

Until then, I spent New Year's Eve in a deep reflection, thinking about the previous year and drawing my biggest learnings from all the events that happened and the conclusion that I came to was that 2017 was a catalyst for some pretty intense personal growth on all levels. 

Physically, emotional, mental. You name it and 2017 challenged it all. 

Parts of 2017 really did stink. However, even those hard events have created new ways of me wanting to be with myself and in the world. 

This year for New Year's Eve, I decided to forgo the usual get dressed up, find a party, drink too much and feel like utter and complete poop the next day for a quiet, reflective night at home by the fire.

I'm not going to lie, my FOMO definitely kicked in. (Mom, FOMO means, fear of missing out.)  But if I have taken anything away this year it's getting really honest with myself and asking what it is I truly need.

I needed to end 2017 in the most positive, intentional, loving way I know how. 

That involved getting quiet, playing my favorite tunes, making a fire, diffusing my favorite essential oils, and then answering some really honest questions I'd been avoiding for, well, ever. 

2017 may have had some doozy experiences but my ability to draw goodness from those happenings is what gives me confidence for 2018. 

And from the events of this past year, I realized that as much as this space is an outlet for me to share, process and heal, I want to get back to a place of offering you something more. 

So I took the last year and I came up with ten subtle ways to feel different in 2018. Use them, don't, use one or two, use none. 

Overall, I hope you too can look back at your 2017 with kindness and love and take exactly what you need to make this year the best.

10 subtle ways to feel different in 2018 -- and keep the momentum going.    

1. Take stock of what is and what isn't working in your life. 

If you've been reading this blog for awhile you know I am a big fan of having my "come to Jesus' moments. These are those sometimes painful, sometimes liberating moments when I stop hiding and get really honest with myself about the various areas of my life that aren't working. Or are working. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Those things that aren't working are merely catalysts to create change and go down a different path. A lot of the time you have to experience the pain to get on the right path. And those areas that are working -- well celebrate it! We all could probably use a little more celebrating in our lives. 

2. Go slow

I think one of the keys to creating lasting change in your life is going at it slow. This is speaking from years of experience. I'm what is called an Activator. I get an idea and wham! I want it all to fall into place right now and will do whatever is necessary to get there. Then I lose steam and move onto the next thing. I forget that sometimes, slow and steady wins the race. So my advice, and only because I've learned this the hard way, treat your idea, your dreams, your goals or whatever you call it, like a houseplant. Take all the precautions to allow it to grow big and strong. Good, organic soil, water, light, time to root down, and slowly but surely, it will in fact grow. 

3. Start small

You know that saying, Rome wasn't built in a day? Well, why the heck do we think we can take a lifelong habit and wish it away overnight? Patience is pretty important when it comes to making lasting change. And kindness. To yourself and others. Baby steps my dears. Just put one foot in front of the others and before you know it, you've walked a mile. 

5. Build self-trust

Every time we make a new goal or want to change a way we do something we have the opportunity to build self-trust. A healthy sense of trusting yourself is imperative to create habits that last. However, every time we don't follow through, we are breaking that trust with ourselves and others. We may be able to brush it off, but again, speaking from experiences, it starts to compile over time and feels like a big heavy weight on your shoulders. It doesn't feel good at all. So this is why going slow and starting small is really important. 

6. Live and breath your values

I remember one day I realized while talking with someone that I really didn't have a clear idea what my values were. That made me sad. Then I remember thinking if I don't know what I stand for, how am I ever going to get the things that I want? So I came up with a list of my top five personal values and I wrote them out and posted them on a board in my room. I base all my decisions, er, well, I try to base all my decisions off of whether or not they are aligned with those five values. I truly believe if you do this, you'll feel so much better about how you make decisions in your life. 

7. Say goodbye to those that aren't a fit anymore

You'd think this one was a no-brainer but it's amazing how many people we tend to keep in our lives without really taking a good long look as to why. I've had to silently say goodbye to a few friendships this year and mostly within the last few weeks. Not because I don't care about them deeply but because it wasn't healthy for me to keep them as am active person in mu life. It was what was best for me to propel forward on my path. I knew it in my gut. Holding on to them was like holding onto a giant weight. I felt like I couldn't get any forward momentum.

It's okay to say goodbye. It's hard. It's not always black and white but most of the time you know, deep down, that it's the right thing to do.  

8. Let go of expectations

Expectations are a huge killer of happiness and joy. When we expect a certain outcome, we limit ourselves from the possibility that life could offer us something so much better. When we have expectations, we are often met with great disappointment when life doesn't unfold how we think it should. Sometimes it can derail us. Often it will prevent us from moving forward with our goals, hopes and dreams. And thus, we get stuck. Really stuck. 

I know it may feel totally unrealistic to never have expectations but I think as we learn to adjust them we stay in the organic flow that is life and our let down isn't as extreme. We allow life to redirect us and from personal experiences, the redirection is usually better then anything I could have crafted had I forced my way into fruition. 

What's that saying? Oh yeah, let go, let God. 

9. Give up the ego labels

I learned this lesson big time this past year when I was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer that had no known origin. I found myself feeling really confused and lost, like I didn't belong. People would ask what kind of cancer I had and I'd just stare at them blankly. "Um, well, I was diagnosed with metastatic cancer of an unknown primary."

I'd be met with blank stares and looks of confusing and I'd want to reach out and say, "Yeah, I'm confused too."

Eventually I had to find a way to just stop caring so much about the label and focus on other things. This made me think about all the other areas of my life I am attached to certain labels. Labels help us compartmentalize ourselves into little boxes.  However, I think that sometimes what we identify ourselves with can cause overwhelm and internal chaos in our lives. I find myself feeling this way a lot. Especially being a 'jack-of-all' trades kind of gal. But when it comes down to it, I'm just me, Amanda, and feels so much better.

10. Get a Dog. Seriously. Or a cat. Or both

Okay, this really has nothing to do with feeling different in 2018 but Rocky kind of changed my life in 2017 and so if you are teetering on the line of deciding whether or not to get a pet, I say do it. 100%, get the dog or cat or pet. As long as you can responsibly take care of them, do it.