Category Archives: self awareness

Schadenfreude

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Schadenfreude

Hello friends not sure what part of the world you’re in…this week in America people are freaking out over a Peloton ad. For those not in the know, Peloton is a luxury brand of an in home stationary bicycle which has a strong community of enthusiasts. I don’t own one and I don’t want one, I have friends that have made this their religion. Whatever makes you happy.

Here’s a link to the ad in case you missed it –

Peloton Ad

Clearly the husband is an asshole. He is berating his wife and fat shaming her with the $2K dollar gift which is just a smack in the face. This woman obviously suffers from some type of body dysmorphia disorder and her husband is fanning the flames with this so called present. Thanks for the eating disorder babe, perhaps you can gift me with a new neurosis for Mother’s Day.

Oh but wait, none of that actually happens in the ad. Nope, not a speck of it. The husband gives the wife a Peloton for Christmas. She is equal parts excited and nervous about it and spoiler – she loves it. WTAF people?

I guess people are projecting their own feelings about exercise and gift giving onto the world. Do the pissed off people exercise at all, why so many assumptions? The husband says maybe five words in this ad and none of them are related to weight loss or misogyny. I know this is mind blowing for some…(lean in) people don’t just exercise to lose weight. I have exercised consistently for 30 years, weight loss has never been the primary goal.

For me, exercise has been as much for my mental health as my physical well being. Sure I would love to drop a few pounds, exercise alone won’t likely do that. I know that if I want to lose weight the best way to do that is to tweak my nutrition. Move more (always good) and eat less (less junk). One of the most difficult aspects of recovering from my ACDF surgery has been the activity restrictions. I miss the camaraderie of fitness classes. For the next few months I’m limited to walking and a stationary bike (still not gonna happen Peloton).

Here’s 5 things that piss me off way more than that Peloton ad:

1) Health Care in America, it’s a f*cking mess.

2) An ineffective and inequitable judicial system where minorities do hard time for possession of weed, while rich dudes commit “white collar” crimes and pay off lawyers to the tune of 6 or 7 figures to avoid jail time.

3) Immigrant kids dying in detention centers and the entire separation of families bullshit that is happening.

4) Gun violence.

5) Ninja chin hairs (ladies over 40 know what I’m talking about).

In other news…I got a parking ticket last week. I took my son into town to have breakfast and came out to a ticket on my windshield. Our town is notorious for handing out parking tickets so I wasn’t surprised. I tried to pay when we parked but the kiosk wasn’t working. I took a picture of the machine display which announced it’s “malfunction”, I thought I’d be covered.

I called the phone number on the ticket, it seemed promising at first. “Sure – send us an email, we’ll look it over.” A few hours later I did that, here’s how that went:

Me: Hello – I called earlier to discuss a parking ticket I got this morning. The kiosk behind the pizza shop isn’t working, I’ve attached a photo of the display stating a malfunction. I made a good faith effort to pay for parking, it was not possible. Please waive the parking violation. Thank you for your consideration.

PVD (Perfectly Vindictive Dicks – oops my bad….Parking Violations Department): Did you try another kiosk? Your ticket remains open.

Me: I didn’t know I could pay at another kiosk, I thought they were assigned specific zones. Your kind consideration is much appreciated. Have a fabulous holiday. Namaste (Pssst…when I use the term Namaste it’s my polite way of saying f*ck all the way off.)

PVD: I am not going to waive this ticket. There are numerous kiosks. Sorry I can’t void this.

Me: Yeah, I know. I was trying for kindness-guilt-sarcastic Jedi mind trick, it seldom works.

PVD:                   SILENCE

Later that day I took an informal poll on Facebook to identify the best way to pay this fine. The options were – 1) go to town hall with a clear plastic bag full of pennies, Werther’s candies & crumpled up tissues and count it out at the counter or 2) write “schadenfreude” in the memo section of the check.

Ultimately I decided to go with option 2 because the person that gets stuck counting the pennies doesn’t likely have the authority to void my ticket. I tried to lighten the mood by using a Scooby-Doo stamp. I thought of using the upside down flag stamp as a sign of protest but that seemed like too much.

For those that are not familiar with the term schadenfreude, here’s an explanation –

Schadenfreude is the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction that comes from learning of or witnessing the troubles, failures, or humiliation of another. Wikipedia

 

Fingers Crossed…

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Fingers Crossed…

Muthafuckah. Got some not great news today…for my regulars you may recall a post from last week when I waxed poetic about my crappy health insurance. I begged my doctor’s office for a script for an MRI but they declined because my insurance (sucks) needed me to go through more hoops first because they’re assholes.

I figured an x-ray would be useless because the pain I have seems nerve related. Pins and needles, like when your foot falls asleep. The foot thing usually passes after a few minutes, the situation I’m dealing with is 24/7.  The pain ranges from a 3 to an 8, it’s never gone completely. I’ve had about six weeks of this now and I’m starting to get cranky. However, the insurance company needs a checklist ticked off before it will pay for an MRI so basically we ALL work for the insurance company now – the doctors, medical billers, patients, hospitals, labs – they own us.

Anyway the planets aligned and I got the referrals, made the appointment, and saw the doctor. The appointment was with a non-surgical Orthopedic at the Rothman Institute. The office ran like a well-oiled machine. They even took an x-ray of my neck for $20. which is the best deal I’ve gotten since well, ever. My PCP wouldn’t send me for an X-Ray because she’s scared of my insurance.

The x-ray didn’t show much (shocking) so I got my script for the MRI. The RI office staff managed to get an authorization code from my cheap ass (yet freakishly expensive) insurance company so I got my MRI a few days ago. This morning I got a call around 9:15am from an unknown number so I let it go to voicemail. It was the Orthopedic doctor. Well, that was unexpected. I called the office told them I would be available after 12:30. I got another call from the doctor at 12:32, this is highly unusual. Doctors calling as soon as they get the results to discuss it with you…

Doc: Hello, I wanted to let you know I got the MRI and it isn’t terrible.

Me: (nervous laughter) Great, not terrible is good, maybe.

Doc: We compared this MRI to the one you had in 2010 and the same area is involved (cervical).

Me: I’m glad you were able to hunt that down.

Doc: I’m recommending that you see a surgeon.

Me: Oh.

Doc: There’s some compression around the spine and some fluid. (barely audible) Myelomalacia

Me: Mya-what?

Doc: Myelomalacia, don’t Google it.

Me: Of course I’m going to Google it, you just told me not to.

He then proceeded to name some doctors that are spinal surgeons. I got off the phone and promptly cried for 45 seconds. Then I started Googling, then I took a walk because I can’t do anything else. He told me to hold off on physical therapy until I see the surgeon. Oddly enough I had a physical therapy consult scheduled for this afternoon.

I talked to my husband, I talked to a friend, I talked to God and my dog. I made the appointment for Monday which is a miracle in itself. Hopefully, I’ll have more information and the start of a game plan this time next week.

I put my gym membership on hold. That was when it hit me, shit got real. Exercise has been a physical and mental release for me for 30 years. Now I have restricted exercise (walking) and constant pain, it’s not an ideal combination. I’m trying to not think about it too much until my next appointment, easier said than done. Fingers crossed…

 

So Far…

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So Far…

Relationships are slippery suckers aren’t they? Sometimes it’s hard to find the perfect grip to keep them from slipping away. Too much pressure, not enough, longevity comes from the ability to apply just the right amount of pressure, that and dumb luck.

A Facebook friend posted about her insecurity within her decades long marriage. She wondered why so many years and 3 kids in, why do these feelings still show up, when does the insecurity stop? My guess is (23 years in) that it doesn’t? Insecurity isn’t a constant companion in my marriage but that bitch does visit from time to time, completely uninvited.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if the negative thoughts come from an accurate observed change in your spouse or the internal bad wiring most of us have to diagnosis and re-configure. We’ve been told that half of marriages end in divorce forever, that’s not entirely true. To get an actual percentage, you’d have to study a specific set of marriages over a lifetime to see how many dissolve.

If you’re curious, I found an interesting read on the topic. No proper notes of the specific studies or statistics touted, more of a compilation of weird divorce nuggets put together by a law firm (my guess is they specialize in divorce)Weird Divorce Stats

One statistic stated that the average length of a first marriage that ends in divorce is 8 years. Seems to me that a lot of marriages end once the kids finish high school or after the wife turns 50 which often happen around the same time. Women file for divorce more frequently than men somewhere between 66 – 75%.

According to the weird list I linked above my marriage is doomed. We met in a bar (24% more likely to divorce), my parents divorced (50% increased risk of divorce), we have a daughter (and 5% to the doomed calculation)…Geezus we are already at 79% chance of implosion and I haven’t even gotten to our premarital sexual history and lack of strong religious background yet. Our calculated risk for divorce is somewhere around 200%…But wait, we live in Pennsylvania, are college educated and have children, phew, we might make it. Some of these stats are ridiculous in their specificity.

So what makes a marriage work? Obviously this varies by couple, there isn’t one universal magic formula. Personally, I’m just grateful that I still like my husband and it seems mutual at this point. We still “enjoy” each other’s company (wink) and we know when to give the other space. I try to find new ways to keep him happy…no not that, I’ve already done everything I’m willing to do there. Now I mulch or weed and make the bed, the real sexy stuff no one told you about in early ’80s Home Ec class. I try to take some of his burdens away and when I need help with something, I’m specific and neutral in my requests. That seems to be working so far.

On the Path…

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On the Path…

Sometimes you find yourself on a path and you have no idea how you got there. Is this the beginning, the middle or the end? There’s no map. It isn’t a path you chose, it was chosen for you. You don’t know the length, topography, the fitness required to complete it…hell you don’t know the destination and yet, here you are.

There are no trail markers to assist, no consistent guide. You observe, look for tripping hazards, avoid the pitfalls when you see them. You try to adapt to the ever changing conditions, not knowing how long you will be here or where it ends. You have to adapt, try and enjoy the path when you can, take deep breaths, look around, it feels lonely. You are isolated, afraid, desperate. Every so often you hear a friendly voice nudging you along…mostly though, you are on your own and you need to make peace with that.

Shut Up and Eat Mulch

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Shut Up and Eat Mulch

Here’s a short list of the things that have annoyed me or occupied too much brain space this week. This is not an all inclusive list. I can’t write about the real sh*t that’s going on because I’m an adult with kids and bills and stuff. Also, those life things are boring and this is my alternate universe…

Vegan Leather – WTELF is this? I saw a vegan leather tag attached to a bag I recently purchased, I had to Google the term because I have a curious mind and left to my own devices I will make sh*t up. For example — in my version, vegan leather is the hide of a cow which previously practiced Vinyasa Yoga and sipped on the finest Tallgrass Kombucha whilst listening to chanting monks. Turns out that isn’t entirely accurate. Vegan leather is marketing code for fake wannabe leather….and worse yet, it is often accused of “greenwashing” (something else I had to Google FFS). Greenwashing is when a company pretends to be environmentally conscious but they aren’t. A lot of vegan leather is made from carbon-intensive toxins that botch the environment even more than the 4 legged burger makers so buyer beware.

Bullsh*t Ads – Ladies you know what I mean…the face creams that will erase every whiff of a wrinkle you ever had. The cellulite melting machine (10 minutes a day to melt that fat away!), the slimming tank tops that will help you shed 20 pounds around your belly and eliminate “rolls”, the undergarments that will give you the butt that Gawd denied you. Keep scrolling honey, it’s all lies. Guys get a d*ck -centric version of ads. They can age as long as everything works downtown. Words like – vitality, energy, strength & endurance litter their screens. The world is one big dumpster fire but it doesn’t stop us from wanting to look pretty or get laid (exhales).

Useless phone apps – My latest time suck is a game called Word Stacks. I should be embarrassed to admit this but I’m obsessed with this game. Every weekend they have tournaments that last 48 hours and I finish in the top 3 on the regular. Basically it’s word searches except you don’t know what words you are searching. You get a theme and look for words based on that. You also collect points for real words that aren’t in the search. I think I have been playing too much because while I was driving today I saw – TACOMA – on the back of a truck and my brain dissected it as follows: TAC, CAT, COM, MOC, COMA & AMO (pssst….I’m currently in first place with 7 hours and 28 minutes left).

Extreme diets – Sure you can eat 42 eggs a week and wash it down with 7 pounds of bacon, what could possibly go wrong? As long as you never get within 5 feet of a slice of bread, a glass of milk or Satan’s nectar (sugar),you’ll be fine. Gluten free, dairy free, flavor free, low carb, no carb, high protein, medium protein, macro/micro, kelp, keto, caveman, pescatarian, vegan, lacto/ovo vegetarians, straight up vegetarians, carnivores, herbivores, overbores, underbores (I made up those last two in case it got confusing) and fill-in-the-blank diet du jour. Just shut up and eat mulch.

I have to go now Master Word Stacks is calling me…Nonnie and GmaBoss are trying to catch up. A mere 500 points separates me (currently the leader) from second place, I can not let that happen and these words aren’t going to find themselves.

 

 

 

The featured image is from a book cover for Cow Yoga by Willow Creek Press. You can find it here Cow Yoga – I do not have an affiliation, it just seems right to include a link since it isn’t my art.

 

Invest in Yourself!

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Invest in Yourself!

Last night I posted the featured photo on my Facebook page to see if people could guess what it was. My friends did not disappoint and some of their guesses were quite fascinating. Here’s what they suggested:

Back massager, sleeve iron, sweater shaver, head trimmer (for the bald), can opener for old people, vibrator, hair diffuser, electro laser face treatment (sounds fancy), steamer, sex toy (specifically designed by aliens), toilet bowl (hand held?), portable bidet (again, hand held??), kale tenderizer (is that even a thing????), hand mixer, clothes steamer, portable branding iron (for those inclined to body modification and/or ranchers on the go), a vagina warmer/steamer (ouch), and other assorted guesses for an ionic thingamajig.

Now we did have fun with those guesses. I may have over indulged in “No” GIFS.

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If you’ve been keeping up with my blog lately (Thank You & God Bless) you may have noticed that I have been curious about making some aesthetic improvements. I don’t mind being 50, the only problem is my brain which thinks I should look 35 (spoiler: I don’t). I suspect that the Google Gawds of Algorithm (GGA) and AARP (together they makeup GGAAARP and doesn’t that just roll of your tongue) have joined forces to send every ad for modern day snake oil my way.

Women over 40 know what I’m talking about, the ads are relentless. I still go on Facebook and my demographic gets the same ads on a constant loop. Now some of these products are probably good, in fact I can vouch for Rothy’s Shoes.

I happen to own three pairs and they are fabulous and slightly addictive. Now this is more than I typically spend on shoes and I don’t care, I like them that much. Super comfy and they are made from recycled bottles AND they’re cute as hell. I finally got myself a pair of leopard flats – I have wanted leopard flats for 10 years!

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Other products have me more skeptical. Those jeans that come in three size ranges, are you kidding me? If I lined up 10 of my closest female friends there would be at least seven different size categories – short/tall, thick/thin and every combination in between, I laugh at your three sizes.

The magic eye cream that promises to shrink your under eye bags. First of all, f*ck off. Seriously f*ck all the way off with your lies. I haven’t clicked on that infomercial yet because this is a particular sore spot for me. I suspect the jars go for about $3billion each because eye of newt and unicorn blood is really flippan’ expensive. Hard pass, full stop.

Which brings us back to the mystery featured photo. Big reveal (insert drum roll……..still drumming……….little more drumming……damn my imaginary drumming arms are tired). I present to you the –

Ultrasonic Cavitat RF Fat & Cellulite Remover

Yes friends for the mere cost of $99.99 which is a never been seen before fabulous discounted price to end all discounts, the mother of ALL discounts. For under $100. you can “invest in yourself” and rid your self of fat and cellulite (& $99.99). It also cleans your house, picks up your dog’s poop and if you’re single, it’ll find your soul mate. Your SOUL MATE! The only thing it can NOT do is make middle school car line more manageable because that mess is unfixable. Oh and it won’t cook dinner either so basically, useless.

 

Work It (or Not)…

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Work It (or Not)…

Confession whenever I say work it, I instantly think of the Missy Elliott song. If I wasn’t too cheap to pay for premium WordPress I’d drop a link here, sorry about that. I have to save my money, I’ve been thinking about getting (coughs quietly) “work done”. I suppose everyone has their cosmetic Achilles heel, mine is the bags under my eyes. They aren’t full blown moving-across-the-Atlantic-and-putting-everything-in-trunks size yet but they aren’t casual weekenders either.

A big chunk of me feels guilty and stupid for even considering making a change. The world is one big dumpster fire and here I am wanting to hold on to the pretty a bit longer. It seems like such a shallow and frivolous preoccupation. Then again, if it makes you feel better about yourself…welcome to my internal tortured dialogue. If a friend told me they wanted to do something, I would be their biggest cheerleader. Perhaps I need to befriend myself because apparently I’m not above all this shit just yet. I’d like to be, I’m just not.

The other day I went to see a cosmetic surgeon for a consultation. It cost a fair amount just to discuss the options and the office is about an hour away. I lost half a day to this expedition. After the worst photo session EVER (“before” pictures are a horror show, they want you to look bad) they asked if I had any pictures from my 20s. I laughed because the only pictures I had on my phone were ones that I used for an 80s party a few years back.  I was in my early 20s at the time and now I don’t even look like I’m related to this chick –

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It was the 80s baby! 30 years and about as many pounds ago…

We discussed three options 1) Surgery 2) Injectables or 3) INTRAcel Treatment. I won’t lie the first option is not unappealing – aside from the anesthesia, recovery and OMFG costs. You do it once (the right way) and you’re done, the eye bags are packed and out of there, bah-bye. As tempting as that is (if I won the lottery and wasn’t a chicken shit), that was a hard pass for me. I have a teenage daughter and the last thing I want to do is be a role model of physical change via cosmetic surgery. Perhaps when she is away at college….

I thought about the second option. The doctor I saw is one of the top doctors in his field,  he is an ophthalmologist and board-certified cosmetic surgeon in four specialties. If someone is going to be poking needles near my eyeballs, he’s the guy. Alas, this is also a pass as it is temporary and expensive for something so short-term.

That leaves the third option which is some combination of micro-needling, radio frequency and voodoo of some sort. I almost pulled the trigger on this one. The cost is somewhere between ridiculous and stupid expensive and there could be some side effects. The first thing that freaked me out was a script for Valtrex. Apparently it is standard procedure to take it before treatment to avoid the possibility of a Shingles or a Herpes outbreak. Let’s just be clear, I don’t have Herpes. I did have Chicken Pox as a kid and Shingles is no joke. So hello GI distress and possible yeast infection, good times.

The treatment itself consists of a machine that pummels your face to the sweet spot of pinpoint bleeding and (fingers crossed) NOT 8th round in the boxing ring and you just lost. Swelling, bruising, blood, possible scabbing, scaring small children, wear large Jackie O sunglasses for a week after AND this was the most tempting of the three options. Wow, when I type it out it seems rather insane. Beauty is pain bitches (and expensive as hell).

I got as far as scheduling an appointment and filling the script, then I cancelled it. I’m going to do some more research and see if there are other more cost effective options. I did like the office staff and the doctor but the doctor would not be performing the voodoo, a technician would. With that in mind, I may be able to find another option closer to home for a more reasonable rate. Or maybe I’ll just say f*ck it because we’re all going to be dust soon enough.

Curious if any of my readers have considered making a cosmetic change – big or small. Obviously self-acceptance is the ultimate goal, is it wrong to get a boost?

Grief Fog

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Grief Fog

Apparently there is a Mercury Retrograde phase right now which means we are all ripe for disaster my friends. Mercury is a bit of an asshole whilst in retrograde and this year March, July and November are on track to be awful. Here’s a link if you want your head to explode with all the retrogradey stuff….OHSHITMERCURYRETROGRADE

Mercury aside, I have been feeling all the feels today. You ever find yourself driving and suddenly realize you can’t remember the past 15 minutes? You’ve been on the road so many times that you slip into autopilot and you aren’t really aware of your surroundings. The past 10 months have felt like this for me. First my Father in-law got sick and passed away, then four months later I lost my own father. I’ve been in a grief fog ever since. Sure I do all the things that need to be done but I’m a muted version of myself.

During this process I haven’t been fully aware and in tune with the world including my small community. I know I’ve missed some important stuff and I haven’t been present in my usual capacity. Last night I found out that a local parent has been having chemo treatments for several months, I had no idea. Year ago me would have set up a Sign Up Genius and initiated a meal train, the current version of myself found out haphazardly in a group text. I’ve clearly been out of the loop bogged down in my own muck. I’d beat myself up about it a little more if I had the energy, I don’t.

Grief is a process, it isn’t a stage or a series of milestones that you pass and then it’s behind you. It becomes a part of you…sometimes it’s a tiny speck and sometimes it envelops you. If you are grieving, I hope you are patient with yourself…you deserve that.

 

 

Featured Photo Credit:

 

 

 

 

 

The Lonely Middle Years of Parenting

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The Lonely Middle Years of Parenting

Parenting kids in middle and high school is such a complicated and lonely space to be in. When our kids are little we tend to share a lot about them. Holiday cards, social media posts, small playgroups, sports teams and parent clubs. The little cherubs happily pose for the camera without a whiff of self consciousness.

Somewhere around 5th grade things start to shift. The kids no longer want you to go public with what you think is cute. Concerns about privacy, social status and damage control start to creep into your thoughts. The kids disappear from your social media feed and you keep things under lock and key. The difficult stuff is whispered to your closest friends, a very limited set of eyes and ears. Even with those confidants the experiences are exhausting and isolating at times.

I’ve had days this past month that have absolutely gutted me. Pain for my child which housed a kaleidoscope of emotions; profound sadness, love, pit of my stomach fear, impatience and resignation. Fortunately the low points have been transient, replaced with more hopeful experiences, it goes in and out like the tide. I can only imagine the despair of families that reside in the muck for extended periods of time. I’m sure those parents are around me, they just aren’t talking about it.

The why of the reasons for not discussing things openly are a complicated stew of ego, protection, shame and insecurity. Shame that maybe we failed as a parent somehow – gave too much or too little. We were too involved or not vigilant enough. We haven’t properly adjusted the sails, we hit the gas when we should have braked and now we are spinning out of control.

The first inclination is protection. Protect the child at all costs from labels, embarrassment, bullies, the boogeyman, mistakes or misunderstandings that can negatively impact their future. That’s a tall order and some days I feel so small, minuscule, a speck of dust, insignificant. At this phase in their lives, your kids generally care more about friendships than family, at least temporarily. Another jagged pill to swallow, the person you want to help most in the world doesn’t necessarily want your assistance or your opinion. They will however, happily relieve you of $20. or the car keys when they start to drive.

Insecurity is the ghost that haunts us all whether we care to admit it or not. Insecurity is married to shame maybe not officially but they are at a minimum shacked up together. If I’m honest, this is the piece of parenthood I feared the most before we had kids. Knowing that I would make mistakes as all humans do. I also knew that making mistakes as a parent would cause me intense pain. Mind you I haven’t had colossal failures, just the usual varieties; having a more impatient tone than intended (this is called yelling), being a few months behind on the dental check up, and not being a constant shadow on their social media.

I’m sure some parents and kids skate through this phase without a pimple or a tear shed, I think those are the unicorns. Most of us take a deep breath and remind ourselves to have a friendly tone when we knock on our child’s bedroom door. We worry about over/under scheduling, setting reasonable expectations that neither diminish goals nor create neurotic overachievers. I’m still searching for that sweet spot of challenging my kids so they can bend without breaking.

 

I Get To…

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I Get To…

Every so often the Gods of social media send a pearl of wisdom my way. This morning I was browsing Facebook when I saw a photo that caught my eye. The original post was from Kristen Hampton of WBTV Good News, it featured a handwritten sign which stated: I get to…

According to the original post, Kristen saw that note at a friend’s house. A friend who is currently undergoing chemo for what is described as an awful cancer. Kristen’s friend explained that “I get to” is a substitute for “I have to” and the simplicity and sheer gratitude of that suggestion is inspiring.

I get to is a gentle reminder that all of this is temporary. Whatever problems we have individually and collectively, it’s all so transient.  The kids we wait on will leave the nest (eventually), the aging parents we care for, they’ll also move on to a more permanent place, that boss you can’t stand likely won’t be in your life in five years and on it goes. The list of daily chores and obstacles can seem impossibly long and arduous. I get to is a beautiful, gentle reminder that this is all temporary, so enjoy the ride.

I get to recognizes that it is a gift to be able to tick off the list of things to do for ourselves and others. A reminder that we can control the narrative of our own inner voice.  It reminds us that we are fortunate to have the physical and mental capacity to do the things that need to be done. A suggestion that we have the ability to choose a more positive frame of mind, one grounded in gratitude.