journey

Confessions of A Seasoned Cruiser

After 30+ cruises, I can tell you there’s a big difference between your first time stepping on a ship and your thirtieth. The first time, you’re wide-eyed at everything—the glittering atrium, the sheer size of the ship, the endless food options. By the time you’ve cruised dozens of times, you still appreciate the beauty, but you also know where the best coffee is without consulting the deck plan, which elevator banks actually move faster, and which quiet corner is perfect for reading when the pool deck is packed.

Boarding Day: No Panic Necessary

New cruisers often bolt onto the ship the second boarding opens, racing to squeeze in every minute. Seasoned cruisers know better. I’ve learned the art of the late arrival—letting the initial rush die down before strolling aboard without stress. The ship won’t sail without me, and sometimes the best move is to head straight for that tucked-away lounge instead of fighting the buffet line with half the passenger list.

Packing Like a Pro

On my first cruise, I packed half my closet. By cruise thirty, I’ve mastered the art of less. Packing for the Caribbean means keeping it light—swimsuits, sundresses, sandals, and easy layers that don’t take up much space. For a leaf-peeping cruise, it’s an entirely different approach. The mornings are crisp, the afternoons warm, and the evenings chilly enough for a sweater and scarf. My suitcase shifts from flip-flops to sturdy shoes, from cover-ups to cozy layers. The key is versatility and always having a carry-on ready with what I’ll need that first day, whether it’s a swimsuit for tropical waters or a fleece pullover for watching fall leaves roll by from the deck.

Skipping the Crowds

After so many cruises, I know when to join the excitement and when to duck away. First-timers chase every trivia contest and poolside game. I’ve learned the joy of finding the hidden decks no one bothers with, slipping into the spa pool when most passengers are in port, and savoring specialty dining instead of fighting buffet lines. It’s not about doing it all—it’s about knowing what fills your cup.

Loving the Rituals

Even after thirty sailings, there are traditions I never miss. The sailaway moment—drink in hand, wind whipping my hair—as the ship pulls away from port. The late-night stroll under starlight when the decks are quiet. That first coffee of the day with nothing but ocean stretched ahead. These rituals are the heartbeat of cruising, and they’ve never lost their magic.

Why I Keep Coming Back

Being a seasoned cruiser doesn’t mean the excitement has faded. If anything, it’s richer now. I no longer stress over what to pack or whether I’ll “miss something.” I know what I love, what I can skip, and how to pace myself. Every ship has its own personality, every itinerary its own surprises, and every voyage still feels like an escape.

After 30+ cruises, I’ve learned this: the sea always gives you something new, whether it’s a sunrise you’ve never seen, a flavor you’ve never tasted, or a memory you’ll carry home. That’s why I keep boarding—because cruising, at its best, is never about the count. It’s about the journey.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Welcome To The Jungle…The Concrete Jungle That Is!

Coming from Texas, New York City hit me like a wall of sound. At home, the nights are wide open and quiet—just cicadas buzzing in the heat, the hum of a porch fan, maybe the crackle of mesquite wood in the fire pit. Weekends smell like barbecue drifting from the neighbor’s backyard, and the pace of life is as steady as a two-lane road stretching toward the horizon.

In Manhattan, silence doesn’t exist. Horns blare in constant argument, buses hiss as they brake, and the subway rumbles below like a restless beast. Layered over it all are voices—thousands of them—clashing, laughing, bargaining, shouting in languages I couldn’t always place. The city doesn’t hum—it roars. And stepping into it, I felt like I’d been dropped into the middle of a song that never stops playing.

The Smells of the City

Texas air is familiar: mesquite smoke, cut grass, fresh rain on dust, the sweet smell of bluebonnets in spring. New York, though, is a kaleidoscope of scents that change block by block. On one corner, a halal cart fills the air with cumin and sizzling lamb. Walk a little farther, and roasted nuts or a hot pretzel tempt you. Then, just as suddenly, the sharp tang of garbage bags waiting for pickup crashes in. But even that fades the moment a bagel shop door opens, releasing the warmth of toasted sesame and fresh bread. It’s chaotic, sometimes foul, sometimes heavenly, but never dull.

The Rat Race in Motion

In Texas, people wave at strangers on backroads, traffic slows behind tractors, and “running late” usually means you stopped to chat somewhere. New York doesn’t have time for that. The sidewalks churn like a stampede. Before the crosswalk light even changes, crowds surge into the street, weaving between cabs with coffees in hand. At first, I hung back—hesitant, cautious. But soon I matched their stride, dodging traffic like it was second nature. The city pulls you into its rhythm whether you’re ready or not.

Finding My Place in the Chaos

Back home, solitude is easy. Step outside at night and the sky opens, stars scattered wide above dark fields. In New York, solitude is impossible—but community is everywhere. Packed shoulder to shoulder on a subway car, sharing an eye-roll at a train delay, or laughing when a cab screeches too close—it felt raw and unfiltered, but real. In its own way, the city made me feel less alone than an empty Texas backroad ever could.

Why It Stays With Me

New York is relentless. It doesn’t slow down, doesn’t soften its edges, doesn’t stop for anyone to catch their breath. But for a Texan used to space, stillness, and skies that seem to go on forever, the chaos was intoxicating. It rewired my pulse to its own restless beat.

New York doesn’t politely invite you to love it—it dares you. And as much as I’ll always cherish the wide skies, the slow drawl of a summer evening, and the comforting smell of barbecue smoke drifting through the Texas air, I know I’ll take that dare again.

At The Intersection of Joy & Grief

I made a decision about a month or so ago that I was slowly going to come off the anti-depressants I’ve been on since PawPaw died. That we maxed out after Fred died and had to change completely during COVID because they weren’t working. I’ve reached a chapter in my life where I have such a strong support system and I’ve done so much work in counseling I felt like it was time.

But it’s that time of year again. The month or so I spend holding my breath each day as I open TimeHop and each time I talk to my kids. The memories of him that are in my oldest daughter’s smile, in my son’s laugh, or in my youngest daughter’s tender heart. The anniversary of Fred’s passing is today and, as this new season of my life progresses, the time of year I am so besieged with emotions I can barely sort them.

Guilt is constant because I have found joy again. I wouldn’t ever want the kids to think I’ve forgotten the life we had with their dad. Yet I made a promise to Fred that I wouldn’t be sad too long and that I would marry again. Grief because no matter what I still miss him. Confusion over missing him when I have a man in my life now that loves me to a depth that is indescribable. Sadness because he’s missing out on momentous occasions in my children’s lives. Our first grandchild will make an appearance in September and I know his presence will be missed even more than it already is.

I know that it’s been long enough since he’s been gone that most days I choose joy. I choose to thank God each morning when I do my prayers for the life I have now and the blessings he’s given me. On days like today I feel like I’m standing at an intersection of joy and grief and while I know I need to choose joy more today than any other day the sadness of grief is so deep it’s hard not to give in to it.

Trying to focus on joy I think back to that last “perfect” Lanford Saturday we shared with Fred. It was May 20, 2017 and Fred had been home from the hospital for about a month. It was one of those days where none of us could sit still and were so joyous from having gotten Fred through rehab and home that we just wanted to be out in the world. It was still spring and the weather was gorgeous. We spend the day doing some of our most favorite things. We went to Grapevine and had wine and snacks on Main Street. It was Main Street days in downtown Grapevine and we wandered around different booths for quite a while. The kids each got to have a cast made of their hand holding their dads. Something we didn’t know how very soon would be an irreplaceable treasure from the day. We finished in Grapevine around 3 pm and by 6 pm were back out headed to go see live music at The Truck Yard. With Tigre in tow.

Those are the days I look back on and remember how very much he lived during his time on earth. Those are the days I hope bring a smile to each of my kids when they are sad. And that is the Fred I remember with a heavy heart on the days I am sad. He was a good man. He gave me my family and for that I will forever be grateful.

If you have a favorite Fred memory I’d love to hear it today.

Blessings – Amy

A Little News and a Lot of Anxiety

Twenty plus years ago I was told I had Hashimoto’s. All I remember a the time was being told it was an autoimmune disorder and that I needed to make sure we kept my thyroid levels in balance. Given that I’ve been on thyroid medicine since about four months after Em was born didn’t seem life altering.

What I didn’t know over the ensuing twenty years of fighting to keep my thyroid levels stable through insurance insisting on generic thyroid medicine my body didn’t respond to (and being told I was crazy because I thought that), ups and downs in my levels due to weight gain and loss, hair loss, dry skin, and just general life was that that diagnosis meant my body was attacking itself and slowly killing off my thyroid.

In December of 2022 my company changed insurance companies. What ensued was the gluten free thyroid medicine I had finally gotten stable on for almost five years no longer being an approved medicine. Being shoved onto generic thyroid hormone that sent my body into a cycle of weight gain, hair loss, and general yuck. When Tim and I got married he did the research and we figured out how to go back to the right medicine albeit it of pocket. Though that was fall of 2023 we’ve fought all this time to get my thyroid to stabilize. Finally in February after another off kilter set of labs my GYN said “you have to see an endocrinologist”. Back story there – I hate endocrinologists. Between the fact that they are insanely smart humans usually who don’t know how to relate to you and listen to you when you talk and the one that prescribed Fred medicine and didn’t follow up on him thus leading to his kidney failure I’ve got no patience for them. My GP and GYN have managed my thyroid for years.

I procrastinated until end of February and finally got a referral sent to Tim’s endocrinologist. The ONE I actually like cause he listens to Tim and isn’t a condescending human. We expected it to be months before I could get in and after ten days without a phone call was surprised to finally get one Monday – with an opening the next day. Still calling that a God thing.

Dr. Burney walked in, sat down, and said tell me what’s up with your thyroid. IMMEDIATELY went to food…doctors don’t do that…and explained that Hashi’s patients can’t eat gluten. It inflames the gut and limits the absorption of the medicine. Do you know how many other docs had dismissed my saying I noticed a difference when I didn’t eat gluten even though I was negative for Celiac???

First change he made was saying from here on out it’s a strict gluten free diet. Also an unprocessed chemical free (whole foods) as much as possible. Hashi’s patients bodies attack foreign stuff and get inflamed and that prevents absorption of the medicine. Next up is continuing with getting some more of the weight off. The goal is to get me to ONE pill a day of the thyroid medicine so that if I’m going to pay for it out of pocket it’s not three boxes every six weeks to the tune of $185.

Then he took a look at my thyroid. It’s dead and gone. Shriveled up and fibrotic. The out of control Hashi’s has done its thing and I’ll be on the hormone therapy the rest of my life. As it has sunk it that how I feel will be a direct correlation to how I take care of myself for the rest of my life the more overwhelmed I’ve felt. Those close to me can tell you – the one thing I am worst at is taking care of me. And there is something different between choosing gluten free and being told it’s not an option anymore. As much as we travel it makes it a challenge.

I’m still exhausted, still have very little energy, and that’s as much mental exhaustion as it is physical. I have so much I want to do and right now nothing is cooperating. I am trying to lean into the amazing support that my hubby and kids are being but it’s hard. I am also angry. The ONE thyroid medicine most effective for Hashi’s patients most insurance companies don’t like and thus won’t pay for. To me that’s like saying you won’t pay for insulin for a diabetic. How dare you? Who made them God? It’s maddening.

If anyone with Hashi’s is reading this – your diet is as important as the medicine. You have more control than just the medicine. Take control and keep your thyroid functioning as long as you can.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Medical Madness

I grew up in the medical system. For those that don’t know this about me I was born with a birth defect that meant I had my first corrective surgery at 3 months old and my 50th right before my 18th birthday. There have been a few others since then but the bulk were in my childhood. I’ve depended on doctors and medicine my entire life. Honestly never was taught to question them or their orders.

As I have grown older and run into periods where I suffered consequences of some of those orders I’ve begun to wonder if the doctor is always right. For example when I received the COVID vaccine and subsequently suffered through 3 months of full body hives that the doctors swore couldn’t possibly be a side effect of the vaccine I was itchy, angry, and pretty sure the medical community was full of morons.

I find myself sort of here again. My middle child and his wife question EVERYTHING. As I ask questions and find myself dissatisfied with the side effects of multiple rounds of antibiotics and steroids I grow increasingly more curious about their perspective on things. And how to balance that with conditions I have like Hashimoto’s and hypothyroidism. And dysfunctional ears and sinuses that periodically, like now, just flat refuse to cooperate.

I left on vacation with an ear infection. My second in a month. Though I completed a full ten day round of antibiotics while on my trip I came back with a double middle ear infection, RSV, and a sinus infection. Was put on a different round of antibiotics when I got home, given a steroid shot, and oral steroids. The antibiotics have upset my gut. The oral steroids keep me up at night and make me angry at everything and everyone. I’m sleep deprived and cranky. By now I should be getting better but woke up with the room spinning. Like WTF.

Where is that line that we trust doctors or we say nope this isn’t working and I have to try something else? How does someone like me with all kinds of complications wean myself off of depending on doctors? One of the things pressing on my mind is the shingles vaccine. I’m not quite at the age for it yet but I had HORRIBLE chicken pox as a kid and I’m a prime candidate for shingles. But after the reaction I had to the last vaccine I let someone put in me why on earth would I sign up for another? But I know from seeing people around me go through shingles that those can be excruciating too. Which is worse?

And even if I did figure any of it out and think I have a plan then the damn insurance company would weigh in and say NOPE you can’t have that drug. Perfect example is my thyroid medicine. I was stable on one drug for over five years. But my insurance changed and they wouldn’t cover it. My body doesn’t respond to the one they do cover and even though we switched me back to the good one by paying out of pocket for it it’s now two years later and we still haven’t gotten my thyroid back under control from having been off it for 9 months. Why the hell does insurance get to dictate what we take if patient and doctor have determined that one medically won’t work?

It’s all madness. Just fiscally driven madness where money is most important and we are secondary. There’s my brain dump for the day. 😉

Blessings y’all. – A

Another Goodbye, A Closing, and A New Year

This one has been bouncing around in my brain the last few weeks and I’ve been trying to sort through so many emotions. Figure I’ll sort it out here like I always do lol. The Irving house finally found its new owners. About a week ago another tumor took our sweet Paris. And inexplicably a new year is upon us.

We signed the papers on the Irving house four years to the day of when I unpacked the last box, hung the last picture, and posted the before and after video of the renovation from moving into Turtle Summit. Funny sometimes how God’s timing works. I’ve been trying to put my mind around the emotions there, cause there are some, but can’t quite get there. When I reflect back on who I was then…man.

Four years ago I was so angry. So tired. So overwhelmed. So afraid. If I dared to crack open one of my prayer journals I can almost promise you those prayers read something like “give me my life back” or “rewind the clock”. My children were leaving home, my husband was gone, and I had absolutely no idea who I was. And quite frankly I was crazy. Out of my mind flipping crazy. I look back on that person and wonder where she came from and thank God every day that he put the right tools and people in my path to get me through.

As I look around today? My list of blessings is as overwhelming as that list of pain and sorrow was. A home I never could have dreamed this small town girl would ever have. A man I adore who loves me beyond measure. A job that challenges me and pushes me to keep growing even when I’d like a minute to breathe.

Last weekend we said goodbye to another of our fur babies. She was older but we weren’t ready. She had a tumor in her ear that they couldn’t promise us wasn’t in her brain. She was in pain and not herself. We kept the promise we made each other not to prolong our babies lives for our own inability to say goodbye. But less than three months after losing Hope it just made the grief hole rip open again. The energy in the house has shifted again and the three remaining girls are tying to find a new rhythm. They are very clingy to us and hate when we leave the house.

Tim and I’s word for 2025 is “intentional”. So often we find ourselves at the end of a week, month, or year having just responded to all that came at us instead of acting intentionally towards our goals. We want to work on the goals we have set and live life on our terms. I think some of that is a result of seeing what we accomplished when we set our mind to it with the house. Not sure. We just know that as we heal from some of what 2024 took from us and embrace some of what it gave us we have big plans.

I am waking up at night with my mind and my heart racing. Anxiety coursing through me that I can’t identify. I thought it was the house. But with that settled not sure what it is. Work is out of control busy so maybe it’s that. But I know that if I turn it over to God and just lift it in prayer it’ll resolve itself in time. Just takes the one thing hardest for me – faith.

What are you reflecting on in as we close out 2024?

—Amy

Reflections on a Holiday Season

Another Christmas Eve is here. As I sit and reflect on how this year’s holiday season has gone I realize progress was made this year. For the first time in years Christmas wasn’t something just to be survived and gotten through!

I’ve spent numerous of the years past turning myself inside out trying to survive the holidays. That or exhausting myself alternating between trying to avoid them wishing away pain and memories or trying to make them perfect. Somehow this year in just letting go it was actually a very enjoyable season.

Did I get Christmas cards out this year? Nope. Get everything on the list of things I wanted to get for people I love? Not even close. Did I find a new favorite Christmas album that I wore out every commute back and forth to work for a month? Yep. (Thank you Cher.) Bake cookies and treats until I was exhausted but happy? Yep.

Tomorrow we are shucking the traditional Christmas menu and replacing it with tamales (brought in through contacts at work) and easy sides. No 5 am turkey shenanigans for me. Short of jumping on a ship I don’t remember another year we’ve dropped traditional Christmas dinner. What’s more? Everyone is pretty darn excited about it!

2024 was a year of huge changes. If you had asked me at this time last year if I’d be living anywhere other than Irving where I’d spent the last 20 years I’d have told you that you were smoking something. But if this year has taught me anything it’s that unlike what life has shown me the last decade or so change can also be good. So I guess it shouldn’t really surprise me that Christmas this year would be different! 🎄

Merry Christmas y’all!

Amy

Put Your Life In Boxes

Wanna know where you fall in the pack rat/hoarder scale in life? Pack your house. Clean out every nook. Every cranny. Attic. Shed. Garage. Put it in boxes. You’ll find that “I should hang onto this for _____” thing that we all do? Goes away real fast. Pretty sure my trash man hates me. Also pretty sure my kids are tired of the text “do you want this”. I’ve lost count of the number of trash bags, boxes, rolls of tape, markers, lists, copies of floor plans, ideas, room shuffles, crying sessions, sleepless nights, etc etc etc. Moving ain’t for the faint of heart.

But on the flip side? When you get just about to the finish line. When your list of things to go through shrinks down to just a couple of things left the sense of peace that starts to come allows air in places inside you that haven’t seen light in a long time. Yesterday we finally got the attic emptied. I slept seven hours in a row last night. Seven hard almost dreamless hours. The two are definitely connected. From the attic I opened boxes with memories that made me smile, some that made me want to weep, and some that just reminded me of treasured times in my life. Pulled out items that made my daughter laugh and some that reminded me of just how small she used to be.

What they don’t tell us when we are in our 20’s and 30’s is that there will come a time in our life when the kids will move on and all we will have left of them is those tiny shirts and treasured pictures. For the generations coming behind us less and less of those printed pictures because so much is digital (which after cleaning out an attic recently might not be entirely a bad thing). My counselor tells me all the time the memories aren’t in the “stuff” but man there were memories that came to the surface last night that I couldn’t have willingly recalled without sticking my nose in a shirt collar or thumbing through an album. There has to be a balance somewhere between having hundreds of boxes and expecting our tired aging brains to recall it all. Don’t you think?

Early in Tim and I’s relationship we just sort of accepted that we wouldn’t move for at least a decade. I remember phrases like “too much work with 6 dogs” and “too many people need us here”. We laid there last night and talked about where we are in this journey. The excitement we both feel each time we walk in the new house. The very foreign concept for me of doing this thing that is for us first and everyone else second. The fact that I haven’t lived outside of Irving in over 20 years. The negative emotions have been forefront for several weeks keeping me from really enjoying this process. When I say I married the greatest man ever I ain’t joking. The way he has put up with the roller coaster I have been on and still just loved me through it? No words. If anything we’ve grown stronger in who we are together. Pretty heady stuff.

I realize now that while I thought Turtle Summit was the peak of my mountain (and why I named it Summit) it was only the mid-line. God never intends us to stop growing. We’re almost through the hardest part of the work and I’m freaking excited. I’ve got a blank slate of a house to make my own. My dogs will have a yard they can run and play in. I’ll be part of watching a neighborhood fill in around me. I’ll be pushed outside of my box and my routine and have to learn new things. I won’t be able to run on autopilot for the last half of my life. I’m just not done living. Why I thought I was I have no idea.

So pack your life up. Even if it’s one closet at a time. Purge. Organize. There is an intangible that comes with that that kick-starts your soul and reminds you there is more to life than the day to day of surviving. God intends us to do more than just survive. I just need to have that tattooed on my damn forehead some days apparently.

Blessings ya’ll – Amy

Anxiety Sucks

So for whatever reason I’ve never been one of those types of people who do things the easy way. Whether through luck of dealing with the *stuff* life dishes out or just being late out of the starting gate on major decisions I tend to have an avalanche of changes all at the same time. For an anxiety sufferer that it gets worse with age? FML.

I am writing this from about 30k feet somewhere between DFW and Seattle on our way to the Alaska trip we’ve had in the works with the hubster and my MIL’s for almost a year. I am trying to remember a time I had such a struggle even getting OUT the door for a trip. Between Hope’s diagnosis, the house buying process going on at home, being on the cusp of the fall rush at work, scheduling moving personally (and oh yah professionally come October), and a full scale change of my mental health meds? This girl is on some shaky ground. Sobbing as I left the house today….gently pushing Hope back in the house as she tried to follow me out like she has been doing in her cling on phase here lately….there was a moment when Tim looked at me and said “honey if you want to stay home it really is ok”. And a second moment where I really truly almost did just that. Not sure even he realizes how close I came to stepping back through that door.

But I am blessed with a daughter who loves my fur kids as much as I do. A bestie in that same group. Another bestie who is a rock star realtor giving everyone what for on the purchase of our house. Family who is coming up late next week to take a shift with the dogs. A hubby who put cameras up in the house so I can get an eyeball full of the babies whenever I need (which ironically is the ONLY thing that doesn’t work on this plane’s WIFI). Remote access to the office so I can stay caught up and not add being behind to it all. Even in my worst anxiety attack when I remember to breathe I know I am blessed. But dang it it takes a hot minute sometimes. When did anxiety become part of our culture and everyday life for so many of us? Is it the unrelenting pressure to always be, perform, do? Anyone got any non-pharmaceutical tips and tricks for kicking that beast to the curb permanently?

I’m blessed with a great counselor who always has plenty to help me. My biggest issue is IN the moment, like when I was walking out the door looking in Hope’s sad eyes today, none of them are larger than the fear, doubt, and paralyzing anxiety. I described it to someone today like standing on the edge of a cliff. On one hand I’m looking over my shoulder afraid I’m gonna miss something at home if I go. On the other I’m looking at the jump afraid something bad is gonna happen if I don’t go. I get caught up in the who I’m gonna hurt or what “damage” I’m gonna cause…and my “gut” I have relied on instinctively for so many years? That stupid thing fled the building about four years ago. And the real biotch of it all is that if I’m not careful I will miss something this week while we’re off doing something I normally love…and seeing something through my husband’s eyes that lights his fire the way the Caribbean does mine.

It all just sucks. There are no easy answers and no “quick” fixes. Only solution is to strap on the iron underpants and ride it out. When the year is done and everything levels out I know we’ll be hella proud of the things we decided on as a couple and the progress we made. We’re headed towards small(er) town life that has always made me happy. But we have a long fourth quarter in front of us….

Blessings y’all – Amy

When Did It Change?

There was a time in my life I would have said I thrived on succeeding under pressure. Grandpa in the hospital? I’d put my head down and do anything I could to handle it for my grandma. Husband in kidney failure? Me again. I don’t need any help – I’ve got this. World off it’s axis at work due to it being the busy season? Sign me up. You can count on me and I won’t let you down no matter what.

My counselor says it’s cause I had to learn how to survive at a young age. But also that it is driven by an obsessive need to prove myself good enough. Good enough for who? No idea. But we’ve come to the conclusion it drives me in everything I do. And I use the word drives because it’s currently driving me off the cliff in terms of my health. So when did that rock solid ability to handle anything start to change? When did my body start to rebel and my mind sit and spin at night? Hours and hours of tossing and turning and having conversations in my mind about how I would’ve, should’ve, or could’ve handled something. When did I become unable to rearrange the living room without validation from an outside source that it looked okay for Pete’s sake? I can’t even pray without wondering if I’m “doing it right”.

My best guess would be when my world upended a few years ago and I looked around. (Reality is it’s probably part of aging.) No one needs me anymore. Not in the protect me from the storm put food in my belly and a roof over my head kind of way. I ceased being a wife when Fred died and I got downgraded in the mom department when the kids grew up. With that came the absolutely mind bending truth that I had no idea who I was outside of those things. A realization I’m guessing most women come to at some point but still. That period in my life drove me to my counselor and the things we have unlocked have made it difficult to go back.

These days the doctors are working tirelessly to figure out why I can’t sleep. Why the weight has not crept back on but leaped back onto my body. Why I ache in my shoulders, neck, and back constantly. Food sensitivity tests, genetic tests, blood work, you name it. I’m being asked to invest time in myself. To “let go” more. How does one do that? How does a stress addicted workaholic with a need to prove herself to anyone and everyone do that exactly? Question of the day right there….

I find myself wondering what life will look like in 5, 10, or 20 years. Am I prematurely aging myself because I can’t rewire 40 year old programming? Am I working to live or living to work? Can I really see myself retiring and not facing the grind everyday? Are we doing all the things we should be doing to get ourselves where we want to be in the next few years? Geez – I’m even starting to give you an example of the hamster wheel in my brain.

I have the surreal moments these days where I look at my life from a 30,000 foot view and can’t find the words to tell my kids how proud I am of them. To tell my husband how lost I would be without him. To allow myself to fully lean in on him (or anyone) and just let them carry me for a little while. When did being able to survive massive doses of the crap life deals out become debilitating instead?

The short answer is I don’t have any answers to any of these questions. I suspect there are women (and men) out there who can relate. For now I just keep plugging at the tasks the counselor and my doctors have given me hoping that some or all of it changes before too much more damage is done. I feel like an imposter going through the motions of life instead of being able to sink in and enjoy the beautiful things God has given me.

If you can relate, shoot me a note. If you have advice, I’d love to hear it. Words of encouragement that this is all temporary? Bring it on.

Blessings Y’all – Amy