I Love Me...Most Days

A couple of days ago my counselor asked me a most unusual question. “Does Maribel love Maribel?” he asked. I hesitated before I answered, “Most days.” That question got me to thinking: how much DO we actually love ourselves?

I am not referring to an arrogant, self-centered love. Absolutely not. What I am referring to is a genuine, self-caring attitude towards our own being. After all, if we cannot love ourselves, how are we supposed to love anyone else? Simple mathematics here, you cannot give away what you do not possess to begin with.

We are all loveable in one way or another. I suppose I love myself to some extent but the fact that I hesitated before I answered my counselor, and the fact that I did not declare a convincing “yes,” made me take a deeper look at some of the things I can be loveable for.

I have a strong character – I survived poverty, losing both parents to cancer, the loss of my marriage, and parenting two children on my own.

I am persistent – I stayed in college for 8 years all the while working full-time because I was not going to give up on my dream of attaining my Bachelor’s Degree.

I am resourceful – I grew up poor and therefore know how to survive with very little. God provides all of my necessities, anything extra I consider a luxury.

I am funny – not only do I love to laugh, I love to play pranks too. J

And I have a comforting presence – I am very good at helping others remain calm in the midst of chaos.

Before you go to bed tonight I challenge you to make a list of 5 things that make you a loveable person. I am sure there are much more than 5, so by all means write them down too. Can’t think of at least 5 things? Then you, my friend, need to start loving yourself. The more you do, the longer that list will become.

A Decision I Regretted

December 18, 1982 – a date that forever will be engraved in my mind. Why I decided not to go that day is something that has haunted me for years. I doubt I will ever be able to come up with a good reason, but at least now I am able to confront it.

My father was almost 46 when I was born, and it was as if he waited all of his life for me. I was his only child and he treated me as such. I was the ultimate daddy’s little girl. There was nothing my father would not do for me. Although he only lived for the first 13 years of my life, he gave me enough love to last a lifetime.

Was it always that perfect? Not if you count the times when he would leave on a Friday and not come home until the next day or so. Then there were the times when he could not pay attention to me because he and my mother were too busy fighting. And what about the time he left me at my aunt’s house and did not return until 3 months later?

I suppose I chose not to dwell on those events, but rather on the good ones. The Saturdays my father would take me downtown and buy me anything I asked for. The times he would call me over to sit on his lap while he read the newspaper. The day he bought me my first bike and taught me how to ride it. Lazy days spent at the lake fishing. Christmastime when he would take me along to pick out a real tree. And one of my favorites: taking me into his arms and "hiding " me from my mom whenever I was naughty.

Yes, my father doted on me – perhaps to a fault. I was completely dependent on his love.

When he was diagnosed with cancer I was told, “Your dad has a terminal illness. He only has a few months to live.” What the hell was that supposed to mean to an 11 year old?  What kind of cruel joke was life trying to play on me? I went into complete denial. No one had taught me how to live without my father.

My father lived for about 2 more years after that, and spent much of the time in and out of hospitals. The last few months of his life he never left. He spent my 13^th birthday in there, as well as his 59^th (our birthdays were only 8 days apart.) At first I would go to see him daily, then I would only go every other day. I was young, and my mother thought it was too much for me. Regrettably, I did not understand the gravity of the situation, nor was I ready to confront it.

For years I replayed that day over and over again in my mind. I felt ignored as my aunt came over to give my mother the news that my father had passed away that evening. Nobody was telling me directly, I had to overhear it. I don’t think I believed anybody for days. After all, the last time I saw him he was very much alive. Besides, even though it was my turn to visit him that day I had decided to stay home. I needed one more chance to visit him at the hospital. There was no way he could be gone.

I was never truly aware of just how much that decision had affected my life until now. I regretted it for years. I knew my father was terminally ill, but I never got the chance to say good-bye properly. I never really had closure.

Letting go of the blame, letting go of the guilt, and holding on to the love that we shared were imperative in order for my healing to begin. I may never know why I did not go to see my father that day, but I will always know that he loved me unconditionally.

Gentle Reminders

When I woke up the other morning and looked outside my window I was surprised by the light coat of snow covering the ground. I was suddenly reminded that we are indeed in the middle of winter. It was difficult to picture that since the temperatures have been relatively mild. As a matter of fact, the day before the light snowfall the temperature hovered around 52 degrees. This experience made me think of just how similar life can be.

Life sends us gentle reminders, much like that light coat of snow on a cold January day. We may find ourselves in the midst of one of life’s seasons, yet momentarily lose sight of our environment. Circumstances around us appear contradictory. We have reasons for which to be thankful, but we tend to forget because of everything we see around us.

Perhaps we are battling loneliness, pain, fear, or uncertainty. We may be facing a loss, heartbreak, disappointment, or an illness. Those conditions can make it difficult to remember the happier times of seasons past. We might find ourselves thinking that nothing will ever take us back to a more joyful place. Then, without any warning, the reminders arrive: a phone call or visit from a friend, the lyrics to a song, just the right message at church, much awaited good news…

All of a sudden we are gently reminded that this season will soon pass; springtime is inevitable.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow - a day following today; a period of time in the future. A measurement of time we all talk about yet not guaranteed to any one of us.

I suppose it is simply in our human nature to think about the future as if it will always be there. This is evident by the fact that we are beings who are always planning. From the time we are old enough to realize we have choices we begin to plan our lives. In our younger years we plan weeks in advance what we are going to wear for the first day of school. In college we plan ahead for graduation and our future career goals. We plan our wedding days, our childbirths, our vacations, and our retirements. But, how many of us plan for our deaths?

Truth is time is only infinite to God. We, on the other hand, are finite creatures. We dream, we plan, we hope, we realize goals but at the end of the day our time here on earth is limited.

Do any of the following comments sound familiar?  - 

“We will have our first child after we pay off all of our debts.”

“Maybe I will visit my family next year.”

“I wish I could do that.” Or “I have always wanted to go there.”

“Sorry honey, I won’t be home for dinner. I have to work overtime.”

I could go on and on listing phrases that at one time or another we have all either repeated or heard. I don’t want to spend too much time on that though. Instead, my plea to all of you is to take a long, hard look at your situation. Can we truly afford to do things only when the “time is just right?” Are you living the life you want to live? Are you preoccupied with what others might say, or is the experience uniquely yours?

Our journey on this earth may ultimately come to an end, but we can make the time in between a beautiful occasion. Your happiness rests in your own hands. Your dreams can only be realized by you. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you.

Academy Award

And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to…..

How many of us have ever stood in front of a mirror and pretended to have been that actress? I remember doing that often as a little girl. I’m not a little girl any more, but I have played that actress role many times.

Many people that know me have at one time or another said something to the effect of, “You have a beautiful smile,” or “Your smile is infectious.” I do admit that I love to smile. I smile at strangers on the sidewalk as easily as I smile at my friends, but like a clown that smile is oftentimes painted on.

I had my first bout of depression 5 years ago after I filed for divorce. I had been carrying too much for far too long. I was always known as the one who could hold everything together while everybody else was falling apart. I was the one consoling my friends, lending a listening ear, or giving my shoulder to cry on. Many times I’d say, “Call me if you need anything!” Rarely did I ever call anyone when I was having a problem. Part of my hesitation had to do with not wanting to bother anybody else; part of it had to do with not wanting to appear weak. After all, my friends and family needed me! Unfortunately, that was a recipe for disaster.

My initial struggle with depression caught me by surprise mainly because I had never experienced such a condition before. I had read about it many times and even watched my own mother suffer through it, but that did not prepare me for what I was about to experience.

Spiritually speaking, I consider myself to be a spiritual person. Notice I said spiritual, not perfect. Behind my smile I have secrets that would probably knock the socks off people close to me. Nonetheless, I try to live my life in accordance to God’s ways as best as I can and thanks to His mercy and grace I am saved. I am a firm believer that a relationship with my Lord and Savior should suffice, but depression is a disease that sometimes robs you of that joy.

Intellectually speaking, I am fully aware that I have much to be thankful for. I have goals and dreams. I continue to hold out hope for the elusive love of my life. I have my faith, I have two wonderful children, and I have a good job. I have good health, I am intelligent, and I love to help others. I love to travel, I like to learn new things, and I love to observe nature. I like doing all those things and more, yet I feel empty much of the time.

I don’t know that I can truly explain what that emptiness feels like. I suppose I could try my best to describe it, but how do you describe something that’s not there? It’s like not being able to laugh at a joke, or smile when you see a child at play. It’s a void, a feeling of uncertainty. Or perhaps it’s not a feeling at all, but the inability to feel.  It’s the absence of joy, the absence of anger, yet the presence of sadness.

I have faith in God that as I did once before, I will rise above this tide. One day soon I will wake up and realize that I am smiling back at the mirror with a radiant, genuine smile. Until then, I will continue my path on this journey. I will continue to play the role that I know best.

Welcome to my blog!

Thank you for visiting my page. I hope you will enjoy reading my thoughts. At times you will find my posts to be educational and uplifting. Other times I am sure they will be raw and personal.

My hope is that you will travel this road with me as we continue to explore what is in store for us in this journey called life.