Some days…

Some days… I just want to throw in the towel.  Life is hard. 

Today, well today it just flat-out sucked. The kind of suck where you just wanna take a redo, for a million reasons at least. I’m in one of those “seasons,” funny that we call them “seasons” of my life where frankly nothing is coming easy.  In fact, the more difficult the better, or so it seems.

Just over a year ago, it was because of  health risks and concerns.

Just over a year ago, it was a change to my employment and the ownership of the company I work for.Life is hard

In December… it was the loss of my Aunt Diana, taken too soon from a disease too brutal to understand.

This year…

It’s because of more health risks.  I think I just may stop seeing the doctor all together as more often than not she’s the bearer of crap news. 152/88 you say?

Employment… a year later, we’ve added people, and subtracted; and it just doesn’t seem to come easy. We’ve combined people from completely different work cultures.  Unmet expectations… blending culture, and a litany of challenges on an almost daily basis, new software, new hardware, broken this and that.

Some days… there have even been challenges in the places I least expected… in spaces and places where I volunteer and find joy.  Even those spaces have not been immune to heartache, hurt feelings, misunderstanding and resentment — and those feelings are just MINE.

I can only wonder what else the list would bear if we exposed all of the feelings of those impacted and involved.

Some days… there is no break.

I suspect that I’ll have many more of those some days…

I suspect that I’ll wake up tomorrow, dust myself off and start over.

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You Can Always Come Home…

Our roots run deep.  I was born in Waterbury, Connecticut on September 10, 1973.  We left to move our family to Colorado in the summer of 1978, I don’t know every reason my parents had for doing so.  Opportunity, perhaps.  I don’t know.  What I do know, you can always come home. It’s July 4th weekend and my family and I are back home, Waterbury, Connecticut, USA.

62 Hamden

62 Hamden Avenue, Waterbury, CT both my grandmother Carolina and my father Vito’s childhood home.

Facebook is powerful.  It is because of Facebook that we’re here.  What an amazing thing to connect my family some 37 years post move.  Of course I had a few trips back to Connecticut after we moved.  My dad and stepmom brought us back when I was about 14 ish?  And my brother and I traveled back twice in preparing my Grandmother for her move from her home, the place of her birth some 80 years before. And of course a trip home at the death of my grandfather, a man I hardly knew, for the damage WWII created in his life, rendering him incapable of returning home to his family.

We’re here for the DeLeo family reunion.  An idea born of Facebook is now here.  My dad Vito and Carolyn (parents) have made the trip as well.  My other siblings are not here and the reasons eh, they’re reasons and all important, another family reunion, work commitments, life commitments.

1910 Census Nuncio

My great great grandfather’s 1910 census record. I think.

I am looking forward to reconnecting to my family, people I share history with, pretty deep history.  My great grandfather immigrated in the late 1890s seeing perhaps the same opportunity my parents were seeking in moving us to Colorado, 1978. I am looking forward to a conversation with my Aunt Helen, our remaining matriarch of the greatest generation, filling in the gaps I have in my family’s story.  I am so grateful and so blessed that you can always come home.

 

 

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Let Me Tell You About Marriage…

Well, let me tell you about MY marriage. Today marks the fifth anniversary of saying “I Do” to my husband Eric.  It’s been 1826.25 days… how do we get a 1/4 of a day?  Ask Eric, he’ll explain it.  It’s been 43,830 hours, it’s been 2,629,800 minutes AND 1.577e+8 seconds.  That’s a lot of time.

Now here’s the truth.   We go in to marriage hopeful, marryphoto 4ing our best friend knowing that and excited for the possibility that lies ahead.  There are trips and travels.  The struggle of being a step-parent, the struggle of being a parent.  There are ups and downs, there are harsh words that should never be nor never have been spoken.  There is sadness and pain, the loss of a pet, the loss of a family member. Marriage isn’t always pretty.  This is not a Hallmark Channel movie.

Now here’s MORE truth. In spite of ups and downs and more ups and downs, there is no one that supports me more than Eric.  He endures my crazy… some times, it’s with ease, and sometimes it’s not.  But… he always does. I hope, honestly do, that he feels the same way about me.  Because I want to be his biggest fan and greatest supporter.

So here’s to Marriage.  Let me tell you about marriage… my marriage. It’s worth everything.  So this weekend I will celebrate 1.577e+8 seconds of life with Eric and our family and look forward to the next… 1.577e+8 seconds.

 

 

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To the Mean Girl that Lives with Me…

To the Mean Girl that Lives with Me…

Go. Just go.  Maybe you think you “inspire” in some, on the “DL” (down low) way. But here’s the truth.  You do damage.  It’s not like punching me in the face damage that leaves a bruise, or when I fall or bump in to something.mean girl  I think the damage you do, honestly, is worse than someone just punching me in the face.

I am going to tell you honestly about the damage you do. I went to workout today.  Punching, squatting, stretching, mobility the full spectrum working on honoring a commitment to myself to get back to the place where running three miles is possible if not easy.  And you know what self?? When I started my workout it literally pained me to look in the mirror.  The mean girl on the other side was waiting… almost like a predatory animal to ask me what in the hell I thought I was doing?  I had to have my workout partner stand in front of me to block her reflection — because you’ve made it so that even our reflection starts a dialog of negative self talk and endless put down. Seriously.  How did I let it get that bad? Go that far.  So stop.  Just stop.

Mid to near endish of workout time it was time to do some bar bell squats.  And there you were mean girl, standing right in front of me again.  And… you started. Again.  And this time — there was nowhere to run and hide.  If I look up, I lose my balance, if I look to my left, I lose my balance.  So I was stuck.  Just stuck. I had to look at you square in the eye.  If nothing else, to prevent myself from falling forward and losing teeth.  (not a look I’d like).  In that moment mean girl, the one where Kyle asked if I could do two more squats, I looked you in the eye and won.  At least this battle today, in this war.  I am guessing it will be a long road ahead of us, and you’ll continue to be there waiting to pounce at the slightest display of weakneBe Amazingss and self-doubt.

To the Mean Girl that Lives with Me… you’re not welcome here. Frankly, I imagine there are mean girls just like you EVERYWHERE.  Guess what?  You’re not wanted nor are you needed in ANY place that you lurk.  So go.  We don’t need you.

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Quick Wins…

I was at a meeting this week, hearing from the candidates for the leadership position at Aurora Central (my alma mater).  Something one of the candidates said has been a little bit tacky (sticky kind) in my craw this week.  Aurora Central is in need of a few quick wins…

Truth. Don’t we all need a few quick wins? Especially in those moments when it seems like the finish line is not only a million miles away, but that every stinking mile is uphill?

In my last blog I mentioned my tenacity for some of my more “sexy” for lack of better word commitments. I also mentioned that I’ve not been so kind to myself in word or deed for the commitments that I’ve made to myself.  This week I thought I’d share some of my quick wins for the week.

I spent last Sunday in maquick winjor food prep mode.  I made enough breakfast food to keep me the whole week. I made my lunches for three of the five days of the week last week, and given my track record of being a habitual luncher outer — that was pretty big. I did a pretty decent job with the self talk too… That — is an area that needs almost constant attention.  The minute you slack, your self talk rears its ugly head and BAM!  I went to dinner with my husband on Wednesday night and didn’t bet myself up over whatever food choice it was I made.

This Sunday… food prep round two.  Do what works and is easy to replicate.  I also just finished my trip to the rec center.  45 minutes of walking/walking fast/slow jog.  Super. Hard. I’ll take it though, and file it under quick win number 32 give or take.  I could have made a different choice — oh say watch Titanic (again) just because it’s on all weekend long.  Or… go get the pedicure that I really wanted to get, or the eyebrow wax, or color.  I made the choice that I probably least wanted to, but am most grateful for.

Time to make dinner — and hammer out the rest of a proposal I need to pitch tomorrow.

~Wish me luck!

 

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Getting Real…

Commitment.  It’s a conundrum of a word to me. It really is. I’ve been thinking for days now, seriously days, that it’s time that I start getting real. I find that I have little problem honoring some commitments, but not all of them.  I find that I am able to swiftly keep my commitments to work, to my husband, my friends, my son.  Not to say that I don’t falter.  I do.  More than I’d like. But, more often than not, I am pretty damn solid there.

I am pretty solid with the commitments I make to mentoring, to other community service projects I take on, to visiting my mother-in-law with great regularity.  Those commitments just seem to come easy for me.Commitment-Quotes-24

Now… if some of them come easy, than I suppose it’s safe to say that there are some that don’t. Those are the ones I’d really like to start getting real with. These commitments are those that aren’t nearly as sexy, at least not in my mind.  Nor, are they as important as the others… again, in my mind. Say for example remembering to simply take my Juice Plus.  Dear goodness…who knew that honoring that one little thing would prove to be such a challenge.  Right?

I’m exhausted. Most of the time. It’s certainly no secret, so I’ll cheerfully, well, maybe not so cheerfully, let the cat out of the bag that I have been long struggling with my weight. I had done amazing things in 2011-2012, even running two half marathons. I suffered an injury and that injury put the dagger straight into my self commitment. I’ve struggled for the past YEARS. Dear God, YEARS to get back to good.  Still… I am not there.  Not to mention the additional damage I seem to do with the ridiculous amount of downright nasty self talk I indulge in.  Honestly… who needs the church to bash me when I am falling short as a Christian, or my family in the times I fall short for them, or to a trainer, nutritionist, doctor or anyone else when I am falling short in those areas.  I seem to do a fine job all on my own.  No help needed.

89b0f153eee6fc4fa901174f7fe7774fSo today, I took another step in getting real.  I went to Target and did some fairly grand shopping.  I love Target for a million reasons, but today’s is because it put me another step closer to getting real.  I had a talk with my closet today, most of the things in it anyway.  I wonder why I am hanging on to a million things that are size 12, when today, that’s just not me. I wonder why I continue the daily battle of getting dressed for work and really hating what’s in the mirror? (see that self talk thing?) So today, I went and bought several new pants and tops — in my size, the size I am today.  I suppose that it’s one small step that I can take.

Tomorrow, I am taking another.  I am setting the alarm. 8:00. I am going to walk the dog.  Heck, he needs the exercise and so do I.  Tomorrow I am also going to give it my very best effort to be kind. Be kind to myself and try to start a trend…

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Dear Aunt Diana…

Dear Aunt Diana…

Aunt Diana 1Aunt Wanda called today.  It’s nice to hear from her and the goings on of home.  Nancy was home to visit in January, and the work on Joe and Shana’s home continues, though not without little mishaps.  I’m sure you know all about it.

It’s only been two months you’ve been gone, and the sting of your loss is just as painful in this moment as in the moment Dad called me to let me know your time was short, or when Carolyn called to tell me your suffering had ended. The sting is as powerful as coming to terms with to read or not to read my thoughts about you at your memorial.  It. Still. Stings. 

Your loss, and really it’s silly to consider it loss, but your loss hurts me more than any loss  I’ve felt to this point. The loss of friends, of grandparents, of older aunts and uncles, none of it hurts quite like this.  The loss of a relationship, nope, doesn’t hurt nearly as much as your loss.

I really have to think the imprint you left on my life is so indelible and so deep and that’s why this hurts to the degree that it does. Your capacity to love and to give and to do so without expectation is perhaps the greatest lesson you were able to instill into me, or into anyone else who was so blessed to have the opportunity.

Anyway, Aunt Wanda said she’s sending along a package, something that you had crafted and she thought I’d like to have.  You know what I’d really like to have is just five more minutes with you to do absolutely whatever.   Don’t get me wrong, I still get it… in my own little way, when I’m in the car and a song comes on, or you just need to let me know you’re still here and you’ll never really leave so long as we remember you.

So I just thought I’d drop a line today to let you know I still love you big, am grateful beyond any measure for what you continue to bring to my life.

Love,

Elizabeth.

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