Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

Gosh!  It’s Friday again and time to Celebrate the Small Things!

Dave knocked my socks off last Christmas with the gift of a silver link bracelet with diamond chips throughout.  Living the philosophy of saving “nice” things for “special” occasions, I wear it daily.  In fact, the only time it comes off my wrist is when I’m on the mower.  Well, a couple of days ago I thought I had lost it.  Figured the clasp broke or came open somehow and . . . it was gone.  I tell ya, I was truly in tears trying to accept that it was MIA but still refusing to believe it was gone; I still felt a spiritual connection to it.

Yes, it is “just” a bracelet, but Dave obviously took great care in selecting it and enjoyed seeing me all silly-girly-giddy-mushy when opening it Christmas morning.

A couple of hours later, there, on the ground by our RV . . . relief! 

Celebration!

It is tucked away until I can get to the jeweler to see about getting a different clasp.

That’s it for this week.  Of course, there’s always the celebration of being being alive and essentially healthy, the nice weather we’ve been having the past week and . . . well, stuff!

What are you celebrating today?

 

Rain in the Skies, Rain in My Heart

 

It has been a dreary day out my window and in my heart. 

We have had cloudy and, at times, rainy skies today.  Supposedly the heaviest downpours are yet to come overnight, but right now radar does not indicate that.  We’ll see.  It has been just icky enough to prevent outdoor activities, though.  On top of that, it’s gnat season here again.  Little buggars buzz around one’s ears, eyes and nose and have a habit of hanging around in tremendous swarms. 

I admit I am grieving for Robin Williams today.  I know that may sound silly but, as the saying goes, it is what it is. 

Perhaps it was hearing about his struggle with depression and feeling sad that he was in such emotional and spiritual pain while providing us with so much joy and laughter. 

Perhaps it is because I had been privy to a glimpse of the way he cared for strangers and shone a bit of light and joy in their lives when he could, that he was not the stereotypical self-centered celebrity and did not hold himself so high as to not share himself with others.  (See yesterday’s blog post.)  News articles have echoed similar situations as the one I talked about in my post yesterday.   

In 2002, I was barely a year out of breast cancer treatment when my ex moved out of our home in Texas, ending 25 years of being together.  Coming on the heels of breast cancer, the events of September 11 in our nation and other life stressors, the dissolution of my marriage caused me to enter into the darkest days of my life. 

For about three months, I was functional, but my functionality was a sham.  I worked as a home-based medical transcriptionist, so I did not have to go to an off-site office.  I worked because I had bills to pay and had to feed my animals.  Me?  I barely ate and hardly slept.  Going anywhere was a struggle for fear of breaking down in public.  I found no joy or interest in anything.  The fur of my dog and cats was frequently soaked with my tears.  I never knew I was capable of heart-wrenching, body-wracking sobbing.  Every day.  More than once a day.  Sitting on the floor of the bathroom with the lights off and door closed.  I told everyone I was okay; however, having a medical background, I knew I was depressed.  I recognized all the classical symptoms in myself.  I kept telling myself, “You’ll get over it.  Just tough your way through it.” 

Yeah, right.

Ending up in my doctor’s office in November of that year with a respiratory infection, he asked me how things were going in general.  Well, that did it.  I lost it.  After we talked a bit about all the life stressors I had experienced in less than 12 months and, knowing me and realizing I was definitely not my usual self,  he diagnosed me with situational depression and civilian post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).   I walked out of his office with a prescription for a mild antidepressant.

Small-town doctors can be a true blessing.

Within a few weeks of starting the medication, I began to feel more like myself again and began to walk the path of healing.  During that time of healing, I found my joy, my peace, my strength and my life again.  I took the medication for just under a year.

Never once during those dark days did I consider suicide, even with my world having crashed down upon me, even not knowing what I supposed to do next, even not knowing how I could possibly be happy again.

Looking back, I realize now that it was a process I needed to go through to begin healing, to become an vessel, if you will, to fill with joy, peace, strength and – later – love once again.  As the saying goes, it didn’t kill me; it made me stronger.

Perhaps what saddens me is knowing the intense overwhelming despair I felt and knowing that Robin – or anyone – could feel such absolute hopelessness to the point of taking their own life.

Today I am being gentle with myself, allowing myself to grieve for the man whose light here on Earth was extinguished sooner than we would have liked, who showered us with such laughter while battling his inner demons. 

I hope his soul has found peace and rest at last.

I hope that out of his passing will come nonjudgmental, loving and supportive dialogues about depression.   I hope that those who are suffering with depression and PTSD will reach out – or others will reach out to them – and realize that they are not alone.

Thanks for stopping by!

Rain in the Skies, Rain in My Heart

 

It has been a dreary day out my window and in my heart. 

We have had cloudy and, at times, rainy skies today.  Supposedly the heaviest downpours are yet to come overnight, but right now radar does not indicate that.  We’ll see.  It has been just icky enough to prevent outdoor activities, though.  On top of that, it’s gnat season here again.  Little buggars buzz around one’s ears, eyes and nose and have a habit of hanging around in tremendous swarms. 

I admit I am grieving for Robin Williams today.  I know that may sound silly but, as the saying goes, it is what it is. 

Perhaps it was hearing about his struggle with depression and feeling sad that he was in such emotional and spiritual pain while providing us with so much joy and laughter. 

Perhaps it is because I had been privy to a glimpse of the way he cared for strangers and shone a bit of light and joy in their lives when he could, that he was not the stereotypical self-centered celebrity and did not hold himself so high as to not share himself with others.  (See yesterday’s blog post.)  News articles have echoed similar situations as the one I talked about in my post yesterday.   

In 2002, I was barely a year out of breast cancer treatment when my ex moved out of our home in Texas, ending 25 years of being together.  Coming on the heels of breast cancer, the events of September 11 in our nation and other life stressors, the dissolution of my marriage caused me to enter into the darkest days of my life. 

For about three months, I was functional, but my functionality was a sham.  I worked as a home-based medical transcriptionist, so I did not have to go to an off-site office.  I worked because I had bills to pay and had to feed my animals.  Me?  I barely ate and hardly slept.  Going anywhere was a struggle for fear of breaking down in public.  I found no joy or interest in anything.  The fur of my dog and cats was frequently soaked with my tears.  I never knew I was capable of heart-wrenching, body-wracking sobbing.  Every day.  More than once a day.  Sitting on the floor of the bathroom with the lights off and door closed.  I told everyone I was okay; however, having a medical background, I knew I was depressed.  I recognized all the classical symptoms in myself.  I kept telling myself, “You’ll get over it.  Just tough your way through it.” 

Yeah, right.

Ending up in my doctor’s office in November of that year with a respiratory infection, he asked me how things were going in general.  Well, that did it.  I lost it.  After we talked a bit about all the life stressors I had experienced in less than 12 months and, knowing me and realizing I was definitely not my usual self,  he diagnosed me with situational depression and civilian post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).   I walked out of his office with a prescription for a mild antidepressant.

Small-town doctors can be a true blessing.

Within a few weeks of starting the medication, I began to feel more like myself again and began to walk the path of healing.  During that time of healing, I found my joy, my peace, my strength and my life again.  I took the medication for just under a year.

Never once during those dark days did I consider suicide, even with my world having crashed down upon me, even not knowing what I supposed to do next, even not knowing how I could possibly be happy again.

Looking back, I realize now that it was a process I needed to go through to begin healing, to become an vessel, if you will, to fill with joy, peace, strength and – later – love once again.  As the saying goes, it didn’t kill me; it made me stronger.

Perhaps what saddens me is knowing the intense overwhelming despair I felt and knowing that Robin – or anyone – could feel such absolute hopelessness to the point of taking their own life.

Today I am being gentle with myself, allowing myself to grieve for the man whose light here on Earth was extinguished sooner than we would have liked, who showered us with such laughter while battling his inner demons. 

I hope his soul has found peace and rest at last.

I hope that out of his passing will come nonjudgmental, loving and supportive dialogues about depression.   I hope that those who are suffering with depression and PTSD will reach out – or others will reach out to them – and realize that they are not alone.

Thanks for stopping by!

Today There is Less Laughter in the World . . .

 

You may have heard of the passing of Robin Williams earlier today.  He was 63 years old.

So many of us found laughter and joy in his films and admired his more serious works.  You might have even been in the audience of a live performance or seen him on The Actors Studio or similar venue.

You know Robin as a comedian and actor.  Did you also know he was an accomplished cyclist?

For several years, I participated in the Lance Armstrong Foundation Ride for the Roses when it was only held in Austin, Texas.  This was a weekend-long event, with seminars and expo Friday and Saturday and the ride on Sunday.  It may have been 2004, but I’m not sure as I attended the ride for several years in a row back then.  I booked a bed and breakfast suite in Austin and made it a weekend of self-pampering.  Of course, the highlight of the weekend was Sunday’s ride.  Here’s me crossing the finish line in 2004.

Thousands of cyclists – over 6000 - came from all across the nation and literally from around the globe.  You never really knew who you might be standing next to at the event staging area.

Riders were composed of survivors like myself, those riding in support of someone battling cancer and those riding in memory of someone who had passed.

There was so much energy in the air, so much spirit, courage and determination.  It was somewhat of a spiritual experience.  That day, during those hours of the ride, we were a family. 

We were one, united by cancer.

At these events, groups of riders depart the start in stages.  The riders for the longest route go first, then the riders for the next route and so forth until everyone is on the road.  There can be hundreds of riders in each group, so this can take a bit of time.

So here it was early morning and chilly; the sun had barely risen.  We’re at the staging area, the National Anthem has been played, Lance has given his pre-ride talk and the first group of riders is away. 

Who appears on the stage?

Robin Williams.

Robin started talking . . . and talking.  The entire crowd started laughing.  I’m sure his was an impromptu “performance;”  heck, it was just Robin talking to us and I don’t even remember what he was saying.  What I do remember is the sound of laughter filling the early morning air.  My group waited for almost an hour but – you know what?  It seemed like five minutes thanks to the antics of Robin and his ability to engage the crowd. 

During this, a rider standing next to me started telling me how he had encountered Robin at the expo the day before.  He said Robin was so down-to-earth and asked the guy why he was riding.  He told Robin how he was riding for his girlfriend, who was extremely ill with cancer and a huge fan of his.  Next thing he knew, Robin told him to call his girlfriend and he would say hello to her.  The guy called and handed his phone to Robin when his girlfriend got on the line.  The guy told me the conversation went like this (okay, it’s been several years, but the last line is basically verbatim”"):

“Hi!  This is Robin Williams!”

“No it’s not.  No way.”

“Well, who the hell do you think it is?!?!?”

The guy told me his girlfriend and Robin had a nice wee chat.  She was absolutely overwhelmed and so thrilled!

There was no press release about this, no cameras . . . it was something Robin just did to brighten the day of a cancer warrior.

I never met Robin at these events and didn’t even get close to him; however, I am feeling a personal loss at his passing.

Robin’s status as a celebrity was huge . . . but not nearly as big as his heart. 

There is less laughter in our world today . . .

 

 

 

 

 

Today There is Less Laughter in the World . . .

 

You may have heard of the passing of Robin Williams earlier today.  He was 63 years old.

So many of us found laughter and joy in his films and admired his more serious works.  You might have even been in the audience of a live performance or seen him on The Actors Studio or similar venue.

You know Robin as a comedian and actor.  Did you also know he was an accomplished cyclist?

For several years, I participated in the Lance Armstrong Foundation Ride for the Roses when it was only held in Austin, Texas.  This was a weekend-long event, with seminars and expo Friday and Saturday and the ride on Sunday.  It may have been 2004, but I’m not sure as I attended the ride for several years in a row back then.  I booked a bed and breakfast suite in Austin and made it a weekend of self-pampering.  Of course, the highlight of the weekend was Sunday’s ride.  Here’s me crossing the finish line in 2004.

Thousands of cyclists – over 6000 - came from all across the nation and literally from around the globe.  You never really knew who you might be standing next to at the event staging area.

Riders were composed of survivors like myself, those riding in support of someone battling cancer and those riding in memory of someone who had passed.

There was so much energy in the air, so much spirit, courage and determination.  It was somewhat of a spiritual experience.  That day, during those hours of the ride, we were a family. 

We were one, united by cancer.

At these events, groups of riders depart the start in stages.  The riders for the longest route go first, then the riders for the next route and so forth until everyone is on the road.  There can be hundreds of riders in each group, so this can take a bit of time.

So here it was early morning and chilly; the sun had barely risen.  We’re at the staging area, the National Anthem has been played, Lance has given his pre-ride talk and the first group of riders is away. 

Who appears on the stage?

Robin Williams.

Robin started talking . . . and talking.  The entire crowd started laughing.  I’m sure his was an impromptu “performance;”  heck, it was just Robin talking to us and I don’t even remember what he was saying.  What I do remember is the sound of laughter filling the early morning air.  My group waited for almost an hour but – you know what?  It seemed like five minutes thanks to the antics of Robin and his ability to engage the crowd. 

During this, a rider standing next to me started telling me how he had encountered Robin at the expo the day before.  He said Robin was so down-to-earth and asked the guy why he was riding.  He told Robin how he was riding for his girlfriend, who was extremely ill with cancer and a huge fan of his.  Next thing he knew, Robin told him to call his girlfriend and he would would say hello to her.  The guy called and handed his phone to Robin when his girlfriend got on the line.  The guy told me the conversation went like this (okay, it’s been several years, but the last line is basically verbatim”"):

“Hi!  This is Robin Williams!”

“No it’s not.  No way.”

“Well, who the hell do you think it is?!?!?”

The guy told me his girlfriend and Robin had a nice wee chat.  She was absolutely overwhelmed and so thrilled!

There was no press release about this, no cameras . . . it was something Robin just did to brighten the day of a cancer warrior.

I never met Robin at these events and didn’t even get close to him; however, I am feeling a personal loss at his passing.

Robin’s status as a celebrity was huge . . . but not nearly as big as his heart. 

There is less laughter in our world today . . .

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

 

Every Friday it’s time to Celebrate the Small Things!

• I’m celebrating our new smoker/grill I found yesterday!  I’m glad it wasn’t too late in the season to find one.  Put it through the curing process today.

Tomorrow we’ll have salmon burgers and then Sunday I’ll be doing chicken and sausage with corn on the cob from a local farm vendor.  Sweet.

• We had an impromptu midweek campfire a couple of days ago.

I so enjoy our campfire evenings, quiet time spent together sitting by the fire or rummaging around for more twigs.  Hubby spoiled me with this unplanned evening and he has been prepping for this weekend by splitting logs today.

Guess I’m celebrating a laid-back lifestyle and an awesome husband!

• I am also celebrating and giving thanks for having doctors here who are people and not just clinicians.  They – referring to my medical doctor and my surgeon – actually listen to me and treat not just the medical condition, but me as a person.  Awesome.  These days, that is certainly something to celebrate, eh? 

What are you celebrating today?

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

 

Here it is Friday again and time to Celebrate the Small Things!

• Today I am celebrating the fact that the weekly laundry task is done, so I have the weekend cleared of that chore.  Well, it does say we can celebrate small things, right?  Of course, every week I am grateful we have a washer/dryer set here and I don’t have to go a laundromat.  As a full-time RVer, that is a big thing!

 

• We had a totally awesome storm one night recently.  There wasn’t much in the way of rainfall or wind, but that was the second fiercest display of thunder and lightning I have ever witnessed, vying in intensity with one I experienced in 2005, in Washington, DC.  It was dark out, but every few seconds was bright as daylight with lightning.  The thunder would boom and roll across the countryside for several seconds.  I am celebrating the fact that we didn’t incur a direct strike here and only lost power off and on.

 

• Never distressed by thunder or lightning (or fireworks), the above storm was the first time our Maggie showed signs of unease and restlessness.  We were all a bit on edge, I think.  Even after getting into bed, I got up and dressed again after a while just because it was so crazy out.  She was sick the next morning, and I am celebrating and grateful that this was a one-off occurrence and not a repeat of her illness back in May. 

So there you have it – my celebrations this week!

What are you celebrating today?