Pretty Enough

 If you have ever felt "not pretty enough" (oh, no! not here in L.A.!) then read this.
P.S. These are only a few of the books I have.
Carol B.

Eyes Open

This year is going to be different.
Honest.
I'm even going to document my life and how it's going to change.
Thoughts on that later.
I was reading a list of things to think about that happened in 2012 in order to see how I am going to plan for 2013.
It was amazing to see how shockingly screwed up my thinking could be.
More on that later, too.
One suggestion on the aforementioned list was to think about one of the best moments experienced in 2012.
At first I drew a blank.
Then I thought of a moment that might not seem so world changing, and yet it was eye opening to me.
As Mother's Day approached, my daughter texted me, asking what I wanted for Mother's Day. 
"How about a Kindle Fire," I texted back.  "Ha Ha!"
They had come out several months before and I was thinking it sure would be nice to have one.
Of course, I did not really expect one.  They were too expensive to think of my family giving it as a gift to me.  But it was fun to think about.
On Mother's Day we were kicking back at my house and I was opening some nice little gifts from my kids and then they took out another gift they had hidden somewhere and had me open it.
It was a Kindle Fire.
I sat staring at it, shocked.
Part of me was thinking, "No! You can't give this to me! It's too expensive!"
The other part was humbled that they had worked together to give me such a precious, meaningful gift.
It took forever for me to actually take it out of the box, and forever for me to process that they had so surprised me, and that this Kindle Fire really belonged to me.
My point is that for decades I have spent much time whining about how no one appreciates me, especially when it comes to being a mom.
Wha, wha, wha.
And yet, in this moment, I was overwhelmed with the feeling of truly being cared for by my family.
It was one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever had.
I could have posted this last Mother's Day, but I didn't, which goes to show how closed I was to the true blessings in my life.
That will not happen this year.
I promise.
Gently unfolding.
Carol B.

The "D" Word

Yesterday my husband took me to the cemetery.
"You know, I've never been able to say the "D" word," I said.  "I just say "my mom passed."
"Death is very final," he said.  "It's hard to realize someone is not coming back."
"But that's the problem," I said. "Because I haven't been able to say that word, deep inside, I don't realize what happened, and so I can't move on."
"I walk through my mom's house," I corrected myself, "my dad's house, and I wander through the rooms like I'm looking for something and I don't know what.  I feel empty, like something's missing, and then I realize my mom's not there and when my subconscious tries to tell me the truth I shut down and don't want to hear it.  When I see a picture of my mom I feel like something's wrong and when realization hits I panic and put the picture away."
"It takes time," he said.
"But it's taking too long," I said.  "I have to know, once and for all, what happened."
And so early this morning, sitting in the dark, on the sofa, all by myself, I said what I have not wanted to say.
"My mother is dead.  She died.  She's not coming back."
It took a while for realization to hit.
And then the tears came.
Not too many, because the feelings are still buried pretty deep.
But it was a start.
A good start.
Gently unfolding.
Carol B.

Gently Unfold

I was wondering how to begin the New Year.
Should I come in with a blast?
Should I be revved up, ready to explode into a new life?
I started to think that way, but it made me tired before I even began   ;)
I was determined to begin a brand new life, far from the closed up life I have lived for way too long.
But how to begin?
This morning I woke up to a quiet morning, before anyone else was awake.
As I sat drinking my coffee, the words Gently Unfold came into my mind.
And that is what I have decided to do; gently unfold into a brand new life.
I begin exactly where I am, looking out the curtains from my kitchen window, curtains that are far from the fanciest kitchen curtains.
But I like them.
Just the way they are.
And so I begin.
I wish you a beautiful New Year.
Carol B.