A prayer we can all relate to...

From St. Teresa of Avila:

Lord,
Thou knowest better than I myself
that I am growing older and will someday be old.
Keep me from fatal habit of thinking
I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.

Release me from craving to
straighten out everybody's affairs.

Make me thoughtful but not moody;
helpful but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom,
it seems a pity not to use it all;
but Thou knowest, Lord,
that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details;
give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips on my aches and pains;
they are increasing, and love of rehearsing them
is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

I dare not ask for improved memory,
but for a growing humility and a lessening cock-sureness
when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet, for a sour old person
is one of the crowning works of the devil.

The Greatest Birthday Gift to Myself, Ever!

When I first started at Candler, I was barely able to make it from the parking lot to the classroom and only rarely had the strength to make it up the stairs to Cannon Chapel. On my 41st birthday I was able to make it from the 4th floor of the Theology building, down the stairs, through campus, all the way to Emory Village to pick up lunch... and back... in under 30 minutes! I could not ask for a better birthday gift to myself!!

I have come a long way since I first fell ill with Lyme disease: rebuilding my life from being bedridden and abandoned to a new life that includes graduate school and love. I worked very hard to get to this place and must continue in my vigilance. Through all the tears and pain, I persevered. I will continue to persevere with love, strength, and gratitude bolstering me.

May we learn to celebrate our cracks

When I was younger, I planned to grow old gracefully, to celebrate my laugh lines and wrinkles as testaments to a life well lived. However, as growing old becomes more reality than theory, I struggle with vanity and ego. Intellectually, I know how I want to be, however my ego interrupts my intention. I just saw the above post on Facebook and I am once again re-inspired to celebrate my journey and all the scars that stand as testament to it.

May we all learn to celebrate our cracks and fill them with gold.

We all feel unattractive at times

I am suffering from body dysmorphia lately. I knew it would happen. A year and a half ago, I was down to 103 pounds and was almost solid muscle due to complications from Lyme Disease- I was vomiting and convulsing in pain almost constantly, which, as it turns out, really builds up muscle. I had the “best body” I have ever had; I put best body in quotes because that is based on our unhealthy, media influenced American standards. Once I got healthier (vis a vis Lyme) recovered from the nausea and was able to eat again, I began to get back to a healthier body type. As I gained weight, I was very conscience to keep saying affirmations that I was beautiful, that growing out of a size 0 is healthy. I knew moving from a media driven “ideal type” to a healthy ideal would be hard on me psychologically but with my conscience effort, my self perception didn’t spin out of control.

I then contracted a respiratory infection and wasn’t able to work out for a few weeks. I also got in a relationship. Before I knew it, I was up to 132 pounds. I found myself growing from a size 2/4 to a 4/6 to a 6/8 and I now find myself no longer fitting in my size 8s and having to purchase size 10s. Per our Wii Fit, I still have a healthy BMI, although just barely. I am 5’2” with a thin frame, so I am definitely heavier than I should be; I most definitely shouldn’t gain any more weight. But here’s the thing that strikes me: I shouldn’t feel as hideous as I feel. I really noticed this when looking at photos from graduation this year and cringing at how much weight I had gained. I went back and looked at last year’s graduation pictures (the ones where I, ironically, thought I was fat) and I saw how I was too skinny then. I went back to the current pics and forced myself to see myself as normal and healthy. I looked at pictures of other women (who I consider beautiful) who are of a similar body type to me. I realized that I look no different from them; it is merely my own negative self-perception that is different.

 

I know that I am not the only woman who feels this way. I am here to say: you are not alone. I will continue to work to see myself as beautiful, no matter what my body looks like. I will also continue to work out and will try to eat healthier (much easier said than done for me). I want to be strong enough to conquer Lyme and everything beyond that is gravy. (And while I must force myself to say this) I am beautiful as I am, this day. I know that I will eventually learn to believe myself when I say it.

I am beautiful as I am.

Roaning Out

Roan is a coat color found in many animals, notably horses, cattle and dogs. It is defined generally as an even mixture of white and pigmented hairs that does not "gray out" or fade as the animal ages. While the roan color might occur naturally from birth, as an animal ages and naturally turns grey it creates an illusion of “roaning out.”

This last year, my hair has been getting blonder and blonder. I have always been a strawberry blonde, so I am accustomed to red hairs intermingling with blonde ones. Though I am indoors most of the time lately, due to academic pressures and health limitations, I am noticing a significant increase in the percentage of blonde hairs. In some light, they almost look grey, which sends a wave of panic through me. Friends have assured me that the hairs are indeed blonde. I reassure myself that they are blonde because the hairs are fine, where grey hairs are typically thick and coarse.

I have always hoped that I was secure enough to “age gracefully” but now that once far off possibility is coming closer to reality. I am not certain if my vanity will usurp power and if so, what form that will take: dying my hair, plastic surgery, a red corvette?

I continue to turn to the Serenity Prayer: to accept the things I cannot change. Nothing is stagnant, we are in constant flux, clinging to what is and what was will only cause suffering. Release and acceptance of this process of change creates inner harmony.

But most importantly I want to remind all of you: I am not turning grey, I am merely roaning out.