spontaneously combust

I feel like I’m one more drop of spilled milk away from a complete breakdown. There’s this uncomfortable energy inside of my body, pulsing dangerously close to the surface, waiting to spontaneously combust. 

I don’t understand it. I hate how it feels. It’s been simmering for weeks now. Leaking out here and there, making me feel like a monster, lashing out in an anger that doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe anger isn’t even the right emotion.  It’s an emotion that I don’t understand enough to put words to.  But trying makes my heart ache and tears sting my tired eyes. 

I want to scream out in frustration. Who am I kidding, I have screamed out in frustration. I’m tempted to break just to feel some sort of freedom from it. Whatever “it” is that has taken up residence in my heart. I could try to list reasons, make excuses, point fingers. But it comes down to me. How I’m handling...or not handling life. 

Or maybe that’s the crux of it all. I am trying to handle it. Me. Alone. And the truth is, I will never be enough on my own. I know that. I’ve always known that. But damned if I don’t keep  trying to. It’s an awful track on repeat throughout my life. I’m not good at asking for help. I feign at being open and honest and raw but when I truly feel like I’m breaking, I smile through it. I fake laugh and say the same lines. Trying to convince myself I can keep it together. 

I hurt. My heart hurts. And I’m just so tired. 

It’s a sunny day. I constantly crave the sun. I follow it through my house as each day progresses. I find a patch. Warm and brilliant in my room and I sink down. Resting into it. Feeling the heat of it through the window. And I let myself feel. Tears reach the surface and an ugly sob escapes. I held it in until they were bundled and out the door. Laughter  rings in from sleds racing down the hill. 

I tell myself I’m going to sit in it. In this uncomfortable energy. I’m going to invite it in and try to stop fighting it. Make peace with it? Maybe. I’m going to do the thing I should have done when I first started feeling it. The thing I’ve avoided. Because I’m human and even though I think I know better, I don’t.

I avoid opening my bible because I never know where to start. And when I do, I feel like I understand even less. Which leaves me feeling more confused. More alone even. I know that’s a lie though. A lie I too quickly buy into. 

I am not alone. I don’t always have to be strong. I never have to do anything on my own. I only choose too. It’s ok to feel weak. It’s ok to admit defeat. And maybe if I do, maybe I’ll actually allow myself to feel that loving embrace I so deeply crave. I think I’ve unintentionally constructed walls...walls that gave the illusion of strength but left me hollow inside. 

Do you ever hear those songs that completely shatter you from the inside? The songs that bring so much feeling to the surface, tears well over and you can’t even sing along? I felt that in church a few weeks ago and I clamped that emotion off. And now I regret it. I wish I would have dropped to me knees and let it wash through me. I think if I had I wouldn’t feel how I do right now. 

Maybe all of this energy is God patiently ... or not so patiently, waiting for me to open up and let Him in. Beauty is in the breaking right? Isn’t that what they say? Maybe God wants to break my heart right open and just let Him wash over me. The peace I so desperately crave is just a breaking away. 

This isn’t news to me. I think I just let the world convince me other things are the answer. I think I let myself stray from the truth I’ve grown up knowing. It’s too easy to let the noise distract. Even when that noise belongs to the little voices I love so much. When parenting gets so overwhelming it drowns out all logic. When the world tells you its been a hard year and everything is unprecedented.  I get that, I do, but when did that become the go ahead for auto-pilot....for just "gettin through" our days? I don't want to just "get through". I don't want fall back on media driven tag lines for the struggles we face. The struggles I face, which are unique to me. They aren't yours although they might be similar. 

There's a shifting in my chest .Already the pressure feels a little different.There, still. Uncomfortable still. This sitting with it, turning it over and over...it helps. Deconstructing the walls will not happen over night. But if I lean into it, into the truth I know so well...if I lean into God, I just might not combust into an ugly breaking but a beautiful awakening. 

It takes nine months...

Literally minutes after I finished my LAST day of 80 Day Obsession 

 I’ve never shared much about my fitness journeys for a few reasons 1) I always wanted to be sure I was working out for the right reasons 2) It’s never been for anyone else but me 3) I didn’t want to add to the noise 4) I use to roll my eyes at Beachbody. So why now? Because I’m damn proud of myself and I want to shout it from the rooftops! And I’m pretty sure my husband is sick of hearing me talk about it everyday! And because I might owe an apology to all the fitness journeys I’ve rolled my eyes at. 

 Guys, I LIKE working out. Like truly enjoy the challenge and being soaked in sweat. I have since before I had Brody. I’m one of those people that thrives on the workout high. I know not everybody is like that, I know some people HATE it. So again, I count myself lucky that I, no joke, LIKE working out and miss it when I don’t. I might suck at committing to other things but not workouts. I will get it done everyday. With that being said, I am not a gym person. If I’m going to drip sweat, grunt and get my lip curl on while lifting weights, I’m going to be doing it in my own home. It’s convenient for me, I don’t have to juggle childcare and I have everything I need. 

While I was pregnant for the 4th time I toyed with the idea of trying Beachbody after I had him. Then I stumbled across an Instagram post( @kaitlynn.guzman girl!) and she had said something along the lines of giving her body nine months to get back in shape after having her baby because it took nine months to grow him. And that’s all it took. She had shared the workout programs she’d used after her first baby and I jumped on board. 

 March                                  December

I started at the end of March and here’s what I’ve got to share...for you, for me as a reminder...or anybody really. I committed to showing up to my workouts BUT LIFE HAPPENS. And I never once shamed myself for it. There were countless times I was interrupted by a crying baby and/or a toddler who wanted a snack or his butt wiped! During T20 I stepped off the step wrong and rolled my ankle. I felt like a fool and was out for a week. But I got back in it and finished it up. I should also mention that I DID NOT enjoy those workouts. I begrudgingly showed up every day and yelled at Shaun T. During 80 Day Obsession we went on a family trip and I was all in with family time. And while I honestly missed my workouts I definitely enjoyed just being with my family and did not make myself feel bad for taking some R&R. We got home and I jumped right back in where I left off. And by the way, I totally felt that week off which made me want to work even harder. During my second to last week my knee started acting up and I had to cool it down a little on how hard I pushed myself. I was frustrated and disappointed that I couldn’t push harder but I didn’t want to make things worse. By backing off a little bit I was able to finish my FINAL week STRONG!! It felt so damn good!!

Let's be real though, I definitely had days...even weeks throughout the last nine months where it wasn't always easy to get that workout in, or I didn’t feel very strong and days I felt like I was killing it and upping my weights. The most important part though, was continuing to show up. 

My weakness in all of this: nutrition. I really wanted to follow along with their meal plans BUT the struggle was real. I had already been using Isagenix (since Dash was a baby) and I didn’t want to change that up. So I stuck with a shake in the morning but used Beachbody's pre-workout and post-workout drinks. I took different ideas from each nutrition program that went along with the workouts but ... and maybe this is me trying to justify or make excuses, I also ate the popcorn and had the beer and pizza when I wanted! I am not a big fan of veggies, I really wish I was, but I’m not and so a meal plan heavy on veggies felt like starvation to me. And I never wanted it to be about not feeling happy when it came to what I was eating. I also am cooking for five other people so it was honestly hard to get everyone to eat around me and I honestly didn’t have the energy to put the effort into it. I KNOW for me my strength is committing to workouts and being able to PUSH myself in them to make gains, so that’s what I focused on. I never wanted my fitness journey to be about restricting myself or beating myself up if I didn’t do everything to a T. I wanted to show up and challenge myself to be stronger and feel good doing it. While some programs recommended doing daily weight checks, I quickly found that it wasn’t working in a positive way for my mental health so I let it go. It was never about the number on the scale. It was about feeling healthy, strong and energized. 

 I’m saying all of this because everyone’s journey is different and it’s so pointless to compare. You can see someone’s journey and feel inspired or motivated but the minute you start comparing progress reports it has a negative effect. I also had to be really aware of how I spoke to myself. I read somewhere that you should workout because you love your body, not in order to love your body. It stuck with me and anytime I felt negative thoughts creep in I'd remind myself how awesome my body was and how it grew four babies and nourished them! We are each so different and that’s what’s so beautiful. What works for me won’t necessarily work for someone else. Celebrate wins! Big and small. Take the before and after pictures because that’s where you really see the results of hard work. (I say that while admittedly sucking at doing it which I’m so bummed about.) I promise I’m not trying to sign you up for Beachbody I’m just jazzed (yes JAZZED) about completing nine months of workout programs and the icing on my Saturday:  my FINAL day of 80 Day Obsession! I didn’t think I was the type of person to get emotional about fitness goals but I totally shed a few tears. Happy, proud tears. 

August                   December 

Guys find something that gets you pumped up! Find something you want to commit to and see it through. It feels so damn good! Believe in yourself. Do happy dances when you reach your goals. Share you successes!! The people who love you will celebrate right along with you! 

in moments of silence

It's hard somedays...I have to will myself to put the baby down.  His sleeping body breathing in sync with mine; his small hand clinging to the neck of my dress.  I watch him breathe in and out, his perfect mouth slightly open, and I think back...back to when I was a a brand new mother, with only one baby to care for.  Time with him never had to be shared.  Our days stretched ahead of us with no to-do's.  I was able to bask in every moment, watching blissfully as every "first" was met. So unaware of the world around me.  It was a new love and I was infatuated.

I lay my fourth baby down reluctantly.  Three other loves wait for me.  There's schooling to be done, mouths to feed, laundry to wash, floors to be swept, books to read, fun to be had....the list is endless.  I feel bitterness creep in. Angry that this "pandemic" has stolen time.  Time I would have had to bask in my baby guilt free.  Time to just stare at him while he sleeps in my arms.  Time when the older two would have been happily learning from teachers they adore, next to friends they would play with at recess.  Time when I would play with my third giving him all of my attention while the baby slept.

Now getting the baby to sleep feels like a means to the next task on my to-do list.  I feel like I can't put him down fast enough in order to explain to my oldest his next assignment while simultaneously hearing little brother yell from the bathroom that he needs help wiping while sister follows close behind me asking what she can do. I'd be rich for every "just a second kiddo" that comes out of my mouth. I get called out for not giving a hundred percent of my attention to any given child at an given moment.  I quickly apologize trying to focus on whichever one is asking...needing.  I feel stretched too thin. And then the baby cries.  Awake.  Ironic that of all my children, he is the fussiest.  Only calm nestled close to my body.  I thank God multiple times a day for being able to wear my baby wrapped close to my body.

In moments of silence....rare beautiful moments, when all three kids are diligently working, or engrossed in a story or getting along playing outside and the baby is sleeping or happily playing on his mat, I feel oddly lost.  For that brief gap, no one needs me and I wander aimlessly, my mind never resting, paging through lists of what I should use this empty time for; which of the never ending chores should I tackle.  And the truth is, sometimes I just sit.  My body not moving physically but I feel a constant energy buzzing around me....through me...almost like being still is betraying the chaos that has become our new normal.   Stillness is unfamiliar.  To sit in it is almost uncomfortable.  But somedays in those windows of quiet, I force myself to get reacquainted with the quiet.  I force myself to let go of the mental to-do lists, I put my phone in another room, and I let my gaze pass over the messes screaming for my attention.  I find a patch of sunlight and I sit and I breathe deep.  And sometimes I cry.  Sometimes I think about all of the things I am thankful for.  Sometimes I beg God for just  little more patience to get through the rest of the day.

The baby cries, a kid yells, the dryer dings and the stillness passes.  Thoughts begin their ceaseless drumming in my head once again.

I am here now

There's so much going on inside of me...my mind a constant whirl, my heart....oh my heart...if there were words to describe it. But words escape me.  I want to create; to find my center with writing.  I want to gaze out the window and see all the beauty effortlessly.  I want to fill our home with love and laughter.  I feel a weird pressure to use this time wisely.  This weird, isolated time. This forced pause...a blessing...which at times feels like a cruel joke.  I want to move mountains with words as my heart has been shifted and changed by others.  Shaken to its depths.  Emotions bubble up, tears precariously close to no return. Unsteady breaths.  I am here now.  At my dining room table littered with markers, folders, papers, crayons, scissors snacks and more.  All things with no current residence being shifted throughout the house depending on the time of day.  Unsure where their permanence should be.  My youngest wrapped closely to my body, only finding peace with his cheek against my heart.  Unsettled you might say. That's how we all feel.  At times utterly peaceful...when we can pull away from it all; when we can silence all the noise.  We cocoon ourselves within the fortress of our home, but there is a hurting world out there. And while we've managed unscathed, heartbreak drowns the peace when we peek out of our isolation.  What will they remember? What will we say when we can look back? Does it even matter right now?  There's too many questions dancing through our future...tomorrow, next week, next month. The phone rings and I am here now, once again.  Out of the abyss.  I am here now, with my most precious ones, safe, healthy, fed.  I am here now, the tick of the clock my company and soft baby breaths reminding me of fragile life.  The shouts of playing kids drift in from outside.  I am here now.

A Perfect Ending

Wilder -

Your birth was everything I wanted and everything I didn't know I needed. I couldn't have imagined a better ending to my season of child bearing, nor did I ever picture myself delivering you. I have truly never felt so emotional and connected during childbirth as I did in the moments my body released you and I pulled you onto my chest resting your head on my heart; our skin mingling together, becoming familiar with one another on the outside. Here's your story my love: 


My thoughts on pregnancy, delivery and breastfeeding have changed, evolved, even grown so much the last seven years.  If you would have told me  seven years ago that I would be having a fourth child, choose to be induced, and get an epidural I would have laughed in your face.  Not because I looked down on those choices, but because in my mind there was only one right way for me.  I never considered any alternate way than drug free, when the baby choose to come on his terms  and breastfeeding, no matter the cost to me and my mental well being.

With time, growth, friendships and countless open conversations I've learned so much not only about myself but about having an open mind.  The more I actually put my needs and well being first the more I realized the cost I payed for only being willing to allow myself one way of doing things.

When I found out life was growing within me, I knew I wanted an epidural.  I didn't think I would want to breastfeed and I figured I would let the baby come when he was ready.  What actually happened varied slightly and the choices I made were based off of both my mental health and what would be appropriate for the baby.   The week before his due date I experienced three days of contractions.  I was convinced he was coming early. We even made a practice trip to the hospital, only to be sent home a few hours later. Unfortunately I was still only 3cm dilated...for the third week in a row.  Nothing was progressing and I was feeling so defeated.  My body was achy and tired.  I wasn't sleeping and I felt constantly anxious.

You should know, Wilder, we really wanted you to be born on your due date.

We liked the idea of Wilder being born on 1/20/2020 (another thing I thought I honestly would never care about) so on Friday, before we left the hospital during our practice trip, we went ahead and scheduled an induction for Monday morning.  I felt so confident and at peace with our decision.  I hadn't realized how much I craved order and control for his birth.  It had never been anything I experienced before.  For the next two days my body felt more relaxed than it had in weeks and I felt truly present with Brody, Lola and Dash and with my husband.  It was a welcome reprieve after being riddled with unmet expectations and anxiety.

 Of course, nerves eventually took over Sunday night and I was in and out of sleep. I was a bundle of nervous energy on the drive to the hospital in the morning.  Once we were there and brought to our labor and delivery room I finally felt relief.  We opened the door to a sun filled room, something I had envisioned when I  daydreamed about his birth. We met our nurse, who turned out to be amazing, got all the monitors on, and filled our room with my favorite playlist. The reassuring sound of Wilder's heartbeat played a steady background cadence bringing me even more peace.

I still hadn't progressed from Friday night so we decided to start a low dose of pitocin, another " I would never" from the me of the past.  That marked the beginning of lap after lap around the Labor and Delivery floor. I was basically willing contractions to happen, but kept replaying the reminder a friend gave me: "don't have expectations with being induced". Contractions would start, stay consistent for awhile, then wane off.  The pitocin drip would get turned up, more laps would get walked, repeat, repeat, repeat.  I'll admit, after a few hours I was beginning to feel discouraged and impatient.  I thought it'd be more like Wam Bam Baby! Not walk and wait. Eventually the midwife checked me and I had finally progressed to 4cm.  At that point she suggested breaking my water. We quickly agreed. I was ready for something, anything to happen.  And it most certainly did.  Breaking my water fast tracked my contractions.  I went from being able to laugh through them to swaying back and forth moaning through them and taking deep, measured breaths. I had heard during one of my prenatal yoga classes to imagine each contraction like a wave washing over me and going back out to sea, so with each contraction that's exactly what I would visualize.  In between contractions I had managed to request my playlist be changed to Without Words-Synesthesia by Bethel Music. It seems so minor, but it changed the entire ambiance in our room.  It was the perfect background for bringing our son into the world.

The next big question was when to get the epidural.  I didn't want to wait too long but I didn't want to jump the gun either.  I went with the suggestion of my nurse and midwife and didn't wait longer than 15 minutes of intense contractions to ask for it.  It was literally perfect timing.  Had I waited any longer, it would have been too late.  Truthfully, sitting through wave after wave of contractions in one position while the anesthesiologist did my epidural was torture.  I thought I was going to squeeze my husbands hand off.  Once the epidural was complete I finally got to lay down and could feel relief from the ever growing strength of contractions racking through my body.  I mentioned to my nurse that my right leg felt way more numb than my left so she helped me roll over onto my left side.  What I wasn't expecting a few minutes later was the worst contraction EVER tearing through my body.  It felt never ending.  I'm pretty sure my hulk grip was near breaking point on the bed! I panted through clenched teeth, "I thought I wasn't supposed to be feeling this!".  My nurse quickly turned down the pitocin drip and when the hell that trapped me motionless subsided she had me roll back onto my back to help evenly distribute the medicine from the epidural.  She checked me and quickly announced that it was go time. Baby was finally ready.

My midwife, who was also amazing, quickly positioned herself on the foot of my bed while my nurse and my husband helped with holding my legs.  My pain level was once again manageable and my midwife began to calmly coach me through how I would deliver our baby.  Everything about his delivery was surreal and beautiful. It was like slow motion but in the most fulfilling way. With my first push I held onto my knees and let out a low, slow groan.  My midwife told me to reach down and I could feel his head crowning. With the next contraction, I took another deep breath and pushed him out a little more, his presence slowly filling the room.  My midwife helped me deliver his shoulders and after that it was all me.  And yes, I say that with pride.  Another deep breath riding on the crest of the next contraction, I held him underneath his arms, slowly pushed one last time and pulled him onto my chest.  I laugh/cried while looking into my husbands face that was overcome with emotion.  We held each others  gaze as tears fell down my cheeks, and Wilder's cry filled the room.  The afternoon sun cast a glow in our room as our worship music, praising God, played in the background of one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.  I held Wilder, soaking him up for the first hour of his life uninterrupted.  Just my husband and I staring adoringly at him, marveling at how perfect his arrival into the world was. Our lives forever changed at 3:06 on January 20, 2020.

Sweet Wilder, you have completed us in ways I don't even think we are aware of yet.  We love you baby boy. 

Monday May 21, 2018

*I just found this draft when I was looking back through my posts. I'm wondering why I never posted it and decided to post it anyway,  a year and a 3 1/2 months later. I still feel it as deeply as when I wrote it.*

(this picture has nothing to do with the post except for that it was taken around the same time I wrote it and she's little and adorable.)

Have you ever craved alone time so bad you were near tears? And not like, run an errand kid-free alone time, but real, at home-alone-with-not-another-soul-around alone time? That was me tonight. I was just at my end. I needed alone time like a parched plant needs water. So here I am: ALONE. And it feels so good. So, so good. I want to do nothing and everything. I want to stare blankly across the yard and I want to speed clean my house. I want to write everything and yet write nothing. Read a book? Do some yoga? The possibilities are endless but here I am. Writing on my deck in the evening sunshine. Rocking in the chair my little family got me for mothers day last year listening to music that makes my soul shake. I have a glass of wine next to me, each sip savored. I cooked myself dinner, a new recipe and I enjoyed it.  If you know me, you know I hate cooking. Dinner time is my nemesis. But tonight, in my empty house I rather enjoyed it. Each step adding up to create an amazing meal I'll definitely be making again. I ate outside, the smell of freshly mowed lawn wafting through the air. I don't want time to pass and it feels like its going to quickly.

It feels ridiculous admitting, but I feel like I could cry. I'm not sure why? The sweet quiet of no one around? This small gift I've been given this evening? The beauty of the evening? An overwhelming feeling of thanks is flooding me deep. I so often feel lost...I catch myself stunned that I am almost 32, married, and a mother to three children. Often times I don't feel grown up. I still think of myself as the twenty-something trying to figure life out. All it takes is the cry of a child to bounce me back to reality. I thought turning thirty I would feel some pivotal shift. Like I would all of a sudden feel like a legit adult. I'd feel settled and content. Sorry thirties, but so far, you've left me wanting. Ok, I know I am just a mere two years into them, but let's just say there was no pivotal shift. I still feel as unsure as I did in my twenties, just about different things. When I grabbed my laptop this was not where my mind was AT ALL.

Time to regroup. Today my oldest asked me to play soccer with him.  We played keep away with the ball. We chased each other, tripped over each other and laughed a lot. It's the first activity I've done with him that I've actually enjoyed; that I felt genuine joy doing. That probably makes me sound horrible, but the truth is, he loves creating, crafts, art, building and that is just not my strong suit. But the running around, chasing each other...I loved it. I loved being able to keep up with him. And it made me appreciate my body for the first time in a while. I'm all to guilty of shaming my post three babies bod, never allowing it to measure up. I've been pretty committed to working out, not just to get in shape but because I truly enjoy pushing myself during workouts. Stressful day? I'll work out when everyone is in bed, not letting my body slack off and it feels so good. Being able to keep up with my boy, it made every work out worth it. Who knows, maybe running could become our thing. Something we continue to do as he grows.

This honestly sounded so much better in my head. That happens to everybody though, right? I read an article today about a father saying yes to holding his daughter. She's eight and getting too big for her mother to hold, her grandparents too. He was about to put her down when she clung tighter to his neck. She told him "it feels good to be held like this". And he froze, realizing he is the last one who can still hold her. (insert tears streaming down my face.) He continued holding her even though his arms were getting tired realizing at eight, she's hitting a lot of her lasts. Flashes of her as a baby stream through his  mind and he vows to say yes every time she asks to be held until she stops asking. My heart was in literal pieces reading this article. I, of course, had to read it to my husband, and though he may deny it now, I think he choked up too. I thought of Brody and how I can barely carry him up the stairs anymore when he's sleeping. His feet hit my knees as I huff and puff up each step. His 5 year old body heavy with sleep is becoming too much for me. It makes me want to pick him up and hold him. It makes me want to grab his hand more often and hold it. It makes me want to snuggle up to him on the couch more often.

Maybe I'm just trying to wrap my head around time. Is that even possible? I don't want to rush it. I don't want to long for the end of the day when it's been challenging. I don't want to think ahead to when two of my kids are in school. I want to be present in each day and no where else. I look at my planner, all the days already filled up this summer and I feel anxious at how quickly it will all happen. Right after I typed this I remembered this quote I read:

"It takes courage to listen with our whole heart to the tick of God's timing rather than march to the loud beat of our fears." - Ann Voskamp

If I do what she says, if I listen with my whole heart than I am right where God wants me to be. Can I let go of all of the expectations I have for myself and for our summer and trust God?

back pain, I accept your challenge

[photo:April Sky Photography]

Heads up: I'm going to be talking about myself a lot in this post, but I promise there will be a relatable point.

On Thursday last week I hurt my back. There was not an "oh crap, my back" moment, which is actually really disappointing. I woke up feeling fine  but as the day progressed the pain increased and my movements became more and more restricted. I'm an active person. I work out almost everyday. I do HIIT workouts to twisty, bendy yoga flows. I get on the ground and play with my kids. I'm on the move a lot. And with the ridiculous snow fall happening, I've been doing more than my fair share of shoveling, because obviously the chickens need paths too. So I am blaming my pain on the snow...and I suppose the chickens too. Why  not? Anyways, I managed to get into the chiropractor Thursday night before they closed and sure enough, I irritated the disc between L3 and L4. Inflamed got tossed around. No forward folding or twisting. No shoveling. Limit picking up children (ha ha). Take it easy was thrown in for good measure. None of those things are conducive for a mom to three.

I have gone over a week with  pain and restricted movement and I am so incredibly frustrated. And I have also realized that up until this point I  have taken my able moving body totally for granted. I don't like asking for help. I don't like being limited. I don't like constant pain. I've been near tears and break downs more times than I can count. I feel extremely short tempered with my family even though none of this is their fault. I'm mad that whatever I did to my back can't be fixed over night. Also, just for good measure, I am so dang mad at the snow and frigid temperatures! Why is this something you care about, you might be wondering. Well...maybe it's not. But I like to find lessons in situations. If only to help me get through them. And maybe I want a "hey, I've been there, you can get through this."

OK well maybe there isn't a point. Maybe I just need to vent. And maybe by mid-week next week I will feel like myself again and forget all about this miserable weekend. But I hope I don't forget. I hope this teaches me to appreciate my body more and the ease of movement I experience on a daily basis. I hope it gives me understanding and compassion for those who experience chronic pain.

---------

Here's what I've decided: I'm not going to allow myself to sit and mope about what I can't do. I'm going to give thanks for what I can, even if it's not what I normally do or necessarily want to do.  What are the odds that injuring my back is forcing me to slow down and be more aware of how I move my body,. I am literally being forced by my own body to re-program how I normally move: oftentimes hurried and thoughtless or mechanical movements into more deliberate, mindful movements. What better way to prepare for teaching yoga and mindfulness? I am completely immersed in practicing what I preach. No joke!

Here's one small example: think about how you sit down in a chair. Go ahead, try it right now. Do you plop yourself right down, throwing your weight into the chair? Do you bend you knees first and forward fold a little before lowering down? Do you sit down keeping you spine straight almost like you are going into a squat?  I have honestly never given much thought to how I sit down. Ever! And now I am hyper aware.  And it is seriously one of the hardest things to retrain my body to do. My chiropractor wants me to stand in front of a chair, setting a solid foundation with both feet facing forward. Then I am to shift my weight into my heels, hinge slightly forward at my hips and then lower down pushing my butt back keeping my spine, from lower back to neck, straight. As in no curving any part at any time. Almost like I'm preparing to do a good morning.  I have failed 75% of the time in just the last 24 hours.  I am not used to thinking before I sit. I am trying to catch myself before I plop down, being more aware of what I am doing.  Why, you might ask? Part of healing my disc is building lower back strength and mindful sitting is just one small step.  What a beautiful lesson in mindfulness and alignment.

Also, did you know I finished my 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training through Limber Tree Yoga Studio in December? Because I did (cue happy dance)! And the truth is I have been putting off doing anything with it out of fear and now that I can't do my mat practice at my normal pace and level, I am mad at myself for taking my accomplishment for granted. But I am also fueled to explore and gain more knowledge about asana modifications that will work best for my body right now as it is, back pain and all. Which gets me to thinking even bigger, outside of myself.  Who else has back pain or hip pain or even chronic pain of some form and is convinced they can't do yoga? There's a big city of people out there and if I start researching, learning and gaining more experience and knowledge I could help not only myself but others too! Big thinking is not normally my jam.  I've down well at staying small, thinking small and convincing myself I am content with being "small", but dang, ya know what? I want to dare to think bigger.

Back pain, I accept your challenge.  I won't let you stop me. Limited movement doesn't mean I can't. It means finding a new approach to I can.