Freedom of Voice

Two years ago, I wrote about ditching resolutions in favor of realizations --my attempt to address the underlying causes of the things I needed to change about myself.  I made it all the way to realization #1 and never wrote about it again. Until now. Realization #2: Anything that requires sustained attention and commitment is not my thing.  OK, OK. It's a bit of an exaggeration. I would say a 26-almost-27-year-old marriage is proof that I can indeed commit to something for the long-term. But, oddly enough, when it comes to commitments to myself, I fall short. It used to be a big mystery to me. Why do I work my ass off (literally) to lose weight and get in shape only to fall back into comfortable habits that have me reaching for my comfortable yoga pants in lieu of tight jeans? Why do I commit to writing every day only to let my pen ink run dry from lack of use? Why do I research getting my master's degree only to let it fall by the wayside? Why do I spend hours upon hours...

Even though I'm a huge fan of the song, "Silent Night," what I really love is a silent morning. I am having such a moment right now. Since my furry little sidekick can't tell the difference between a weekday morning and a weekend morning, I have been up since 5:45. Would I love to sleep until 6:30, possibly 7? Sure. But, as I sit here, Christmas tree lit up, coffee in hand, half of an asiago cheese bagel toasty and warm and ready to eat (there was only one left, and I took the bottom half, leaving the top for John. If that's not love, I don't know what is), dog curled up next to me--asleep already--I can honestly say I'm reveling in the silence. Don't get me wrong. I love the company of others--chatting is my favorite past time--but, sometimes not having to say anything is kind of nice. It gives me a minute to reflect on things like how blessed I am, how filled with gratitude I am to have this life, even in the midst of some trying situations that ar...

I'm in a weird little funk this holiday season. There's very little la in my fa, if any. Back in my hay day, I mailed Christmas cards the day after Thanksgiving, had all my shopping done before Thanksgiving (I once vowed to never go to a mall after Thanksgiving--a consequence of working retail and seeing how crazy people got), and had all my gifts wrapped early in December (minus the Santa gifts, of course).  I have never decked all of my halls, but the tree was always decorated, and there was some evidence of Christmas in the main areas of the house. This year, well, not so much. I just got Christmas cards stuffed in the mail slot and finished my shopping yesterday. The tree skirt is fully exposed--not one wrapped gift to be found. To top it off, I'm pretty sure my son has seen the stuff I bought him in the closet of a guest room I thought he wasn't going to open. We bought a new tree, but I didn't dig out any of the family ornaments that are safely tucked away i...

Last year, a friend asked for a list of my top ten favorite songs. He did the same with my husband and his wife. Then, he made playlists from all of our top tens and played them. Mine were all thoughtful, soulful songs with meaningful lyrics (see last week's post for some insight into why). Theirs were all upbeat, fun, and well, sometimes just silly. I don't remember all the songs I named (it was an on-the-spot situation), but I know the Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony," The Rolling Stone's "Wild Horses," and U2's "Bad" all made the list. Needless to say, my songs went over like a turd in a punchbowl. Those lyrics meant something to me but didn't have the same impact on them. We ended up listening to one of Joe's top ten--"Welcome to My House" by DJ Sungh--ad nauseam that evening. I don't ever need to hear that song again. Ever. I will admit that most of my music listening happens when I am in the car, and my ...

"You came out of the womb acting like an adult," my paternal grandmother would say to me sarcastically. I often wondered how she made such an observation since we only saw her once a year from my birth until we moved to Florida when I was 10. But, apparently, those times were enough for her to draw that conclusion. Not that I would have ever said this to her--lack of respect for any adults was not tolerated in my family--but in my defense, I felt that it was expected. I was the oldest of three girls. I was told explicitly and repeatedly I had to set the example for my younger sisters. Acting silly often got me in trouble--not because I did anything wrong but because it irritated one or both of my parents. In her defense, I am inherently mature--to a fault. I bossed my cousins and sisters around. Took charge of most situations with friends. Became an unwitting leader. I was often viewed as stuck up by my peers, surely because I looked at them like they had five heads whe...