I’ve been wanting to paint more, but didn’t know where to begin or what I wanted to paint. I bought a rock painting kit some time ago but I still haven’t tried it. I found myself outside yesterday and decided to just dive in and saw part of this rock in my backyard. It still has natural colors so I just basically enhanced them a little. I’ve never done this before, so I’m feeling a bit vulnerable because I’m sharing this. Maybe this will be the start of something beautiful.
How to define the past eight months is going to take longer to put into words much less on paper. Maybe eight more months to gather my thoughts. I have a bunch of thoughts, dreams, ideas, frustrations, wonders, etc. If I wrote them down, I would have plenty of stories, a book, a blog, etc.
Where do I start? Why am I writing this in pencil? I never write in pencil. Maybe I was thinking that if I did not like what I wrote I could erase it? Erase any mistakes to where no one could see any trace? Only I would know where the mistakes were. I could erase and start over. Some erasers work better than others. There are always some remnants of what was once there it just depends on the eraser. It also depends on how big of a mistake it is. Some are better than others at covering them up.
What is on my pages? Page in my book consists of a storyline, plot, laughter, friend, enemy, truth, lies, honestly, in your face. All the above and let us not forget blood, sweat, tears, and fears. Can’t forget that it is the meat of it.
In reading one of my old journals, I came across a memory that I hadn’t thought about in over five years. I literally blocked it out of my mind and never looked back. It is interesting reading something as time goes by and it drums up old emotions and you almost relive the moment.
A person that I once held in high regard once asked me if I would help with their campaign for local office in Colorado. I felt obligated so I said yes. Deep down I knew I didn’t want to, and my heart was not in it. Part of his plan consisted of me sharing all the bad work experiences I had with his opponent while he was my supervisor. He was trying to gather as much dirt on his opponent as possible. I walked away from that meeting sick to my stomach because I knew I didn’t want to participate in something like that. After much thought, I ended up texting him and stated that at this time my focus was on my health because I had unexpected surgery a few weeks prior and was still recovering. I was also getting prepared to move out of state in a month and said that I would have to decline on his request to assist him with his campaign. My last sentence was I hope you understand. His reply was I’m sorry I don’t. I sat there reading this text with my jaw on the floor and in shock. Without any hesitation, I blocked his number from my phone.
How often can people who you admire and look up to disappoint you at the same time. After this person was my supervisor for almost ten years, he suddenly became unrecognizable to me. I remember the many conversations that we used to have when he would give me a ride home from work. We would just shoot the breeze, talk about life, and our families, and he would often be my soundboard. I would share my struggles with my health because he could relate because he was going through his own challenges with his wife’s health issues. He was often my go-to for the voice of reason and advice in a professional capacity. I trusted and respected him both personally and professionally.
An unfortunate event took place and he immediately changed. There was a wall that came up around him. He was no longer the one I could approach, no more open-door policy, it was closed and stone cold. The communication we once had was strained and I no longer felt comfortable speaking to him. After another series of unfortunate events transpired, he still had the nerve to contact me to help him with his campaign. Which is why I felt hesitation to begin with.
I never confronted him about what had transpired between us. I just left it the way it was and just learned to let go of the bad experiences and remember the good part of our relationship. I must believe that those memories were genuine.
I was going through one of my old journal books and found something that I wrote down. I’m not sure if I copied this quote from someone or if I made it up. There wasn’t anything written before or after that indicates what prompted me to write it.
“There is a lesson to learn in everything we endure in life”
I literally was thinking of this last night even before this writing prompt was posted. Right before bed the thought crossed my mind and I was struggling with the order of the countries I want to visit. My first choice at this moment would be The Shetland Islands because of the series of books that I’ve read that are based in this area. I found myself lost in the stories and imagined myself being there. They even did a BBC TV series based off of these books. I became even more obsessed with going!
My second choice would be Greece because of a movie I saw many years ago called Grace of Monaco and again I was influenced by the beauty of the country. I’ve also completed some puzzles with the scenery of different areas of Greece. As each image would come together I would daydream that I was there. I also remember an episode of Anthony Bourdain No Reservations being filmed in Greece and that always stayed with me.
My list continues with Italy, Paris, Ireland, and on and on.
One day.
On Monday afternoon there was some drama taking place on my street with EMS, Police, and a Police helicopter patrolling the area above. Shortly before this started, mom had just woken up from her nap. As each day progresses, there are times when she will begin to decline physically and become melancholy, agitated, and anxious. It is during these times that I will try to be creative, redirect her attention, and put on a classic TV show that she enjoys or something spiritual. I decided to do a search on YouTube for a preacher that she has not watched in a long time. I found a video and she was immediately focused on it and it was uplifting her spirits.
So back to the drama taking place outside. The EMS was handling their part, Police officers were staking the neighborhood, and there was a Police helicopter patrolling the area above. Even though I was curious as to what was going on, I was hoping that they would not come to our door because I did not want mom to become alarmed. Luckily, they went to my neighbor’s house, so I ended up reaching out to her to get an idea of what was going on.
During this whole time, which was about an hour or so, mom had no clue what was happening. She was sheltered from the chaos going on around us. Her attention was elsewhere and at that moment, she did not have a care in the world.
I feel a sense of security in where I am right now because I know that these past five years have been the fulfillment of what my purpose is during this chapter in my life. At the same time, my sense of security can waver depending on what each day brings and the obstacles that arise. Being a caregiver to my mom can present many challenges, twists and turns, and uncertainty. Although this causes fear, anxiety, doubt, etc., my faith is what provides me with the sense of security that I’m not alone. No matter what comes my way, I put my trust in God that He is seeing me through to the other side of whatever mountain stands before me.
Ever since I was younger, I have always wanted to travel and see the world. When I was a teenager, I went on Missions trips with my Church youth group to Mexico. A few years later, I went on a road trip with a friend from Texas, Michigan, and the Upper Peninsula, Windsor Canada, then on our way back to Texas we stopped in Memphis TN. Not too many other events stood out after that until I made the decision to move to Breckenridge Colorado after only visiting there once before only a few months prior. This was one of the most adventurous things I had ever done in my life.
When I was younger, my definition of adventure was being able to travel to faraway places that I have never seen but only dreamed of. A place to escape to where I would not have a care in the world and no rush to hurry back home. In my own little world, I’ve had my own versions of adventure which have not required me to travel very far. I finally got a passport about 6 years ago and not for any reason only to have it because I have not given up on my dream to travel. I know the day will come when I will have the opportunity to use my passport and I wait in anticipation of what that is going to feel like.
This post is from 7-13-23, and it was inspired by a writing prompt. I do not normally participate in writing prompts, but this one got my attention for some reason. I had been my parents’ caregiver up until this point, and my dad had passed away in November 2022, so it was now just my mom and me. It is interesting because this post came up in my memories today, and it made me laugh because I still wake up at the same time, even after my mom passed away in September 2023. I still find myself waking up at this time, even before my alarm goes off, whether I am working or not. It is funny how some things never change.
When I wake up varies but it can be between 5:00am-6:00am. Waking up at this time is key to starting out the day in the right way. I am my mom’s caregiver so I need to get myself together first in the morning the best way I can so I can be ready to tend to her once she wakes up. I have her toiletries and everything we need to get her washed up in the morning and dressed. The kitchen table is prepared for breakfast by the time she is up and once I know what she wants to eat, I can make it quickly.
When I go to bed can also vary but usually after getting mom to bed between 9pm and 9:30pm then I can start to get myself ready for bed. This is my time to wind down and reflect on the day, jot down any notes or reminders for myself and things concerning my mom’s care. I can fall asleep right away for the most part and if not, then I will have an audiobook or a nature documentary on and those will usually help me fall asleep. I have a baby monitor in my mom’s room so I do find myself checking in on her in the middle of the night.
This is a schedule that I do my best to keep for my own sanity, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I have learned to be flexible and adapt to whatever may come because, with my mom, there are constant plot twists that can cause the schedule to go out the window.
I had a dream this week and part of it consisted of me speaking with a man who I did not recognize but at one point during the conversation, he looked at me and said I was a tainted heart. All I remember is that I was struck speechless and didn’t know how to respond.
The next thing I remember is that I woke up and I couldn’t get it out of my mind and was bothered by it to be honest. After a while, I found myself on Google and did a search for the meaning of tainted heart. Of course, you can imagine all the results I received, amongst them, results for the song Tainted Love which has never been on my playlist of favorite songs.
In the midst of the search results, I came across a link for a daily devotional titled The Tainted Heart. Of course, it immediately got my attention, and for good reason. It spoke of the prompting that we receive from God when we need to deal with certain areas of our lives that we choose to overlook. As soon as I read it, I could relate to its explanation and began to reflect on the ways my heart is tainted and how to eliminate what has taken root. If there is something that is brought to my attention that I don’t feel like dealing with, I will convince myself that I don’t have time for it and set it aside in hopes that it will fade away in my ignorance.
Burying things always have a way of resurfacing and more times than not, there isn’t a warning. Just a tone of a conversation or text, mood, attitude, or look can set it off and suddenly there’s a spontaneous combustion. A fireworks show is on display and if anyone has the unfortunate luck to be a spectator, they’re left with the anticipation of when the smoke is going to clear. It eventually does clear, and then it is as if nothing happened, but the residual effect remains lingering until it is dealt with.
My hope in reading this devotion is that I’m not only reading the words but applying their principles in order to cure this tainted heart.
In this writing prompt, I began to reflect back to my teachers growing up and I was remembering a few that stand out in my mind. I had two teachers who were husband and wife who taught at my middle school and the husband was always laid back, had a monotone voice, a comb-over, and always rested his hands on his stomach. It’s sad to say that is all I remember of him and I remember more of my friends and I cutting up in his class and doing our makeup because his class was first thing in the morning. His wife was a little more vocal and strict and would always say “Shame on ya” when she would get upset. I still to this day always think of them because they lived in the neighborhood next to mine and every time I pass their house I wonder what happened to them.
I had another Math teacher from high school Mr. Wayne who definitely influenced me in not giving up on Math. He was patient, took his time to explain each process, and also had a great sense of humor. I looked forward to his class despite the fact that I absolutely hated math and if I could have avoided that subject altogether I would have done it. One thing that helped me was that the school had this phone tutoring service and you could call after school and receive help on any subject. Mr. Wayne would be one of the teachers on this tutoring service and my friend and I would always be calling in hopes we could talk to Mr. Wayne.
In middle school, I had to take a Homemaking class and the teacher was a throwback from the 1950s from her point of view to her wardrobe. She was very proper and was very intent in everything she taught from the semester in cooking to sewing. Students would make fun of her, but I was fascinated by her and respected her because she was different from the other teachers and very confident in how she taught.
When I was younger, people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. One of the things was a teacher. There are old photos of me outside with my stuffed animals gathered around while I was reading and writing on a chalkboard. In my mind, that was all I needed to do to be a teacher. I think was makes a teacher great is having strong communication skills, confidence, intention, patience, honesty, and showing that you care if your students are learning.
The World of Dlo 