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1968

Abstract

ee pass to modify reservations.I did notice a dramatic change in the length of time the women used to wash their hands in the airport bathroom. I did hold my breath as I freely walked into crowded spaces. And I was outraged.My rights were being infringed upon by the brevity of others. That felt out of control. How can we control the air? People on ventilators passed out, engulfed my newsfeed. It appeared I was in a horror movie.And then I knew. I was in trouble. If I stayed home, living primarily inside of my own head, free from everyday distractions, the chances of me spirally downhill grew. Recognizing the problem I faced, I drew from my past experiences and made a list of what I could do with my time. I found that if I did not delineate a strategy to combat my own mind, trouble would ensue. And for once, I was right about what felt like a paranoid revelation.Be a better version of me. Live in the solution. Or pay the price.After much trial and error throughout my life, I learned that I did not fare well when my activity level decreased. Gross misunderstandings about the smallest slight of the tongue could cause me to unravel. I would surely go from a hot mess to loss of clear thinking if I did not make a plan of action.Be a better version of me. What does that mean?The first answer, write. Next, weight, I must lose as much as I can before the pandemic ends followed second. Food, I chose healthy eating for the duration of this time at home which brought me around to third base. And then a moment of clarity struck me as I rounded home that I am finally going to take myself up on my offer to take care of myself.I will be a better version of myself, I concluded. And thy will be done.As long as I believed there was a time limit to the isolation, I diligently focused

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my resolutions would remain in the limelight. I instantly began publishing stories daily and subconsciously handcuffed myself to my keyboard.Order. I will get my house in order — another positive step. The ideas flowed in. And I am not saying that taking these steps came easy to me. They did not. I struggled. I cried. I laid in bed for several weeks, completing my plan in baby steps, which in turn became forward leaps.This feels good.Taking care of myself felt awesome. Why had I waited for 47 years to take myself up on this offer? Today is my 48th birthday, and I am a better version of myself.I lost weight, I redecorated my home, I sorted through the clutter, and I wrote consistently no matter what. My Uncle died. I continued. My husband had his gall bladder removed, and I stepped into the role of actively leading my family.I started an online class. Dropped it. I started another. Withdrew. Yet, I kept writing. The encouraging feedback from others sent me soaring into joy. And then it happened. I was waking up at 3 am to write.My passion, the one that I thought had got away, resurfaced into glorious joy, and the most obvious next move was to be my own boss and start a company.Why not make money from an activity that only brought me happiness?I am 48 today, and my heart is fluttering, I am alive on this earth, moving forward with my intent to maintain this optimism through consistent action and planning. Six months passed while I attended to myself, through trauma therapy and working through my most painful memories. Great strength unleashes limitless possibilities.I am a great strength. I am more alive on this earth than I ever had before. And guess what? I did that. Me. I made it happen. Happy birthday to me. I have only just begun.</article></body>

Happy Birthday to Me

A replay of my last six months of great resolve

Everyone is staying at home?

Do not compute flickered across my brain waves.

The month of March is freezing in Iowa. Suddenly I am blocked by a woman in bright green biker shorts and a baseball hat as I try to enter a local diner. “Everything is shut down because of the virus.” I hear her lecture. What virus? Nothing is changing. I felt like punching her ( I have never punched anyone). But I smiled and pretended that the current events unfolding penetrated through the dense patch of my personal bullshit. However, penetrate, they did not. I believed that it was just another ordinary day.

What a difference one small global pandemic can make! Aghast from the audacity of a total stranger to disrupt my plans and elect herself to be the bearer of global pandemic proportions, I felt she should have offered to hold me, like an innocent child whose life would be altered. Instead, her lifeless voice trailed off when I realized something was amiss.

Quickly, I noticed people standing apart. Smiles were absent. Passing someone on the walking path transitioned into a blatant display of get the hell away from me. Division reared its ugly head, and a gentle pang of panic moved throughout my body, quickly turning into discomfort.

But I was privy to the rumors as I flew home the night before from a trip to California- travelers packed the airport railway system; no one seemed afraid. No one comprehended such a major shift in our lifestyle. It was beyond our everyday scope of reality to ponder. We all just wanted to use our free pass to modify reservations.

I did notice a dramatic change in the length of time the women used to wash their hands in the airport bathroom. I did hold my breath as I freely walked into crowded spaces. And I was outraged.

My rights were being infringed upon by the brevity of others. That felt out of control. How can we control the air? People on ventilators passed out, engulfed my newsfeed. It appeared I was in a horror movie.

And then I knew. I was in trouble. If I stayed home, living primarily inside of my own head, free from everyday distractions, the chances of me spirally downhill grew. Recognizing the problem I faced, I drew from my past experiences and made a list of what I could do with my time. I found that if I did not delineate a strategy to combat my own mind, trouble would ensue. And for once, I was right about what felt like a paranoid revelation.

Be a better version of me. Live in the solution. Or pay the price.

After much trial and error throughout my life, I learned that I did not fare well when my activity level decreased. Gross misunderstandings about the smallest slight of the tongue could cause me to unravel. I would surely go from a hot mess to loss of clear thinking if I did not make a plan of action.

Be a better version of me. What does that mean?

The first answer, write. Next, weight, I must lose as much as I can before the pandemic ends followed second. Food, I chose healthy eating for the duration of this time at home which brought me around to third base. And then a moment of clarity struck me as I rounded home that I am finally going to take myself up on my offer to take care of myself.

I will be a better version of myself, I concluded. And thy will be done.

As long as I believed there was a time limit to the isolation, I diligently focused my resolutions would remain in the limelight. I instantly began publishing stories daily and subconsciously handcuffed myself to my keyboard.

Order. I will get my house in order — another positive step. The ideas flowed in. And I am not saying that taking these steps came easy to me. They did not. I struggled. I cried. I laid in bed for several weeks, completing my plan in baby steps, which in turn became forward leaps.

This feels good.

Taking care of myself felt awesome. Why had I waited for 47 years to take myself up on this offer? Today is my 48th birthday, and I am a better version of myself.

I lost weight, I redecorated my home, I sorted through the clutter, and I wrote consistently no matter what. My Uncle died. I continued. My husband had his gall bladder removed, and I stepped into the role of actively leading my family.

I started an online class. Dropped it. I started another. Withdrew. Yet, I kept writing. The encouraging feedback from others sent me soaring into joy. And then it happened. I was waking up at 3 am to write.

My passion, the one that I thought had got away, resurfaced into glorious joy, and the most obvious next move was to be my own boss and start a company.

Why not make money from an activity that only brought me happiness?

I am 48 today, and my heart is fluttering, I am alive on this earth, moving forward with my intent to maintain this optimism through consistent action and planning. Six months passed while I attended to myself, through trauma therapy and working through my most painful memories. Great strength unleashes limitless possibilities.

I am a great strength. I am more alive on this earth than I ever had before. And guess what? I did that. Me. I made it happen. Happy birthday to me. I have only just begun.