Freedom + Secret Keeper

I’ve had to learn how to share. Some days are harder than others. Social media makes it nearly impossible to have a private life. So bear with me when I find it difficult to do so. Writing is the outlet I crave.

For a very long time, it felt like much of my life was a huge secret. I didn’t know any other way. Then the military paid me to keep secrets. 99 years, but who’s counting. It’s what I do. I keep secrets. And I keep them well. I don’t love it, really. The burden is so very heavy. On the bright side, I’ve perfected the nod and smile of zero confrontation. Makes conversation somewhat difficult but it’s a skill nonetheless. Have smile; will travel!

But the price I pay for holding them in? No amount exists. It’s tough. It has ruined relationships, damaged my own psyche, and changed the way I view life. The lenses aren’t clear. Having to learn the difference between shame and guilt, as an adult, was almost demoralizing. How could I not know these basic concepts? In short, I wasn’t really taught them. I was taught/learned manipulation. Taking care of myself was considered selfish yet it was the only way I knew how to live.

Not one to dwell on the past, live and learn (better ways). There’s many amends I still need to make. I’m thankful for Him who loved me through it all. But it was hell getting there. Now I know I can’t do it alone. I don’t even want to anymore! I no longer fear judgment or condemnation or the “jaw drop”. Another’s opinion of me is simply none of my business.

‘We may impress people by our strengths, but we connect with them through our vulnerabilities.’ Wish I had come up with this one on my own; alas, I am not brilliant all the time.

Most of it though!

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I ask you –

How well do you keep secrets?

Are there apologies you still owe others?

On a scale of 1-10, how brilliant are you? 9.5. Have to leave some room for error!

Day in Photos, pt 204

More like “Week in Photos…” because I realized the amount of photos in my phone spans more than just a day. Let’s get started!

One person in serious condition, nine others taken to hospital after nursing home fire in Iowa Park

I’m no adrenaline junkie, but when in the right place at a terrible time, you throw on your coat, grab gloves and snow boots, and run a block to help remove nursing home residents from a burning building. It’s like bronchitis but with more coughing. Thankfully everyone is okay. I’m so blessed to have been able to help and speak with the kindest people. Ms. Joyce may never read this; however, she was inspirational in her strength and testimony of God’s power to save. Apologies on my terrible wheelchair driving abilities. She was very forgiving.

Super sledding! All the years of minimal snow really paid off. Could’ve left off the below freezing temperatures though. That vacation home at the ocean wouldn’t even have saved me this time. We got a lot of laughs moving to Texas with 3 snow boards. haHA! Who’s laughing now?!

But there have been many gems of awesomeness to exit the mouth of my baby. At day 2 of no internet connectivity, she exclaimed in true dramatic fashion “Total darkness!” I make her walk uphill, barefoot, in the snow, too.

She also enjoys speaking into the 1-way handheld scanner as if the police department can hear her. If anyone is searching for her channel, she can be reached at her handle, “Kaylee Donut Lord”. I kid you not.

When I shared with mini that her dad was sick, went to get medication for himself, and ended up with a cracked windshield, she said “Why didn’t he call JG Wentworth?” so they could “give him money!” She has all the life advice you could ever need.

Lastly, it took a few too many days for us to realize the noises originating outside were not from birds hitting the windows but instead from an explosion of soda cans. Apparently the mini fridge was not insulated. This must be how the local 7-11 makes slushies. Now you know.

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I ask you –

Is your phone overcrowded with dozens of random photos?

Need some life advice from a 4-year-old?

Happy to be back in the 50°/60° temperatures this week. Hallelujah, we made it!

Office Life

When I get home and the question is posed “Mom, how was your dayyyy?”, I have approximately 3.8 seconds to come up with a good explanation. Bonus points for a wild story.

Masks provide better conversation now than asking about the weather. My favorite is a gentleman who asks where’s my gun. Nothing like some good bank robber humor. (rolling my eyes dramatically)

It’s a joke now when I’m asked “How was lunch?” I eat lunch at my desk. Instead of going out for lunch – because I usually eat the same salad everyday anyway – I go upstairs and pace the halls aka walk for an hour. If my building had windows, I’d find out beforehand if it’s a nice day to go outside. Since it doesn’t, I just go to the third floor. Several years ago, the building I worked in had an entire floor with a ‘walking track’ around the outside; it was perfect. It also had windows so there you go.

I truly can’t complain. Teleworking has many perks so the days I need to apply makeup and button my pants isn’t a hardship. But if I had to choose, the pants buttoning is my least favorite. Our office often discusses how we can’t imagine how we did this before; you know, the working all the time stuff. Really. How did we do it, everyday, 5 days a week? There’s going to be some really grumpy people if/when it ever happens again.

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I ask you –

Do people make mask jokes where you work?

Which is you: a) eat at your desk or b) go out for lunch?

Raise your hand if you’ll be one of the grumpy ones!

Thoughts in the Morning

Some days I wake up overwhelmed with thankfulness. Granted some days I also wake up confused and exhausted. Overall, though, the early morning hours hold my best, most sincere, well thought out prayers. In the quiet moments before the world gets loud and busy, I’m able to write, think, and prepare for the day ahead. He meets me exactly where I am.

If negativity is a mindset, then it’s my duty to remind you this: so is joy. What a life-changing moment when I stopped (try) to remember we are all flawed humans living in an imperfect world. I ask for joy to permeate hearts rather than lambasting the flippant words of a hurt heart. My lightbulb began to flicker, then roared to full power.

Suddenly there was a change! Perhaps it was my viewpoint which also needed a tune up…when we change our own thoughts, those of others can be changed, as well.

There’s no moral to this story except to choose joy. At all times. In each moment. And especially when around others. One kind word can be the difference between speaking life or death over another. How tough is it? Immeasurably. Not for the faint of heart – or them who dislike going all in – it’s a true commitment. I am only human and fail often.

Resolve to find happiness in even the trying-est of times. Recently I attended a funeral for a man I might have met once, but was a blessing to other family members. He lived a brave life and his battle with inner ailments ultimately overpowered his body. Even though I didn’t know him personally, those that spoke of him expressed much joy for his life. To be remembered in such a way would seem to be the highest honor. The jokes they had about him, his wife…really his whole family…wow!

And because every serious post here must be accompanied by some humor as only I can achieve…I kept my lips locked tight before, during, and after the service so as not to endear myself to proverbial strangers as ‘that girl who said the wrong thing.’ Like I did the other day when my Mom told me “I got your PaPa back.” (If you’ll recall my grandfather passed on Election Day, fitting as it was.) My mother calmly reminded me my grandfather’s wishes to be cremated. But I still didn’t understand what she was saying. As the pause stretched on, she eventually answered my silent question; he returned to her in a small box. Now, he resides on a shelf. And still something about this strikes me as funny. PaPa is on a shelf. He was a small, elfin-stature of a man. Perfect, just perfect.

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I ask you –

Is there a mantra that carries you from day to day?

More often than not, do you wake up confused or thankful?

Elf of the Shelf reference notwithstanding, I’m sure my PaPa thought I was his funniest grandchild!

Finger Pointing

I pour a lot of me into what I write. Can you tell? There’s no recognizable path, from what I can see myself. It just comes. Rarely do I struggle with long bouts of writer’s block even if occasionally I find some of my posts are a bit on the rambling side of life. Focus, Kel!

I write about shoes, running, motherhood, the military, my family and friends, food, and anything else that strikes my fancy with hopes it can reasonate in others. Sometimes it’s completely surprising what my readers enjoy, other times I go down in flames. All this being said, a good friend shared an article with me essentially saying my joy is overbearing and drives people away. Not in so many words. Really not in any of these words.

The article took me back to a previous conversation I have shared on the blog about how I was told I didn’t have an opinion on anything and if I did then I wasn’t sharing it. Or something like that. Specifically, the article used the example (and I’m only slightly paraphrasing) ‘if you find yourself facing a terrible situation and tend to rely on the phrase “at least it isn’t” blah blah blah, then you’re guilty of this so-called toxic positivity, aka FONO, or fear of a negative outlook.’

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-01-14/what-is-fono-toxic-positivity-is-doing-more-harm-than-good?utm_source=url_link

Gee, thanks. I feel so much better now. Not only am I non-opinionated but now I’m too happy to experience negativity properly. Can’t win, huh? Admittedly, at first, I felt very targeted. What’s wrong with me? It took a few days, but I came to the conclusion you just can’t make everyone happy. You’re either too happy, too down, too polite, too rude, too something. Maybe I don’t like confrontation, maybe my goals are of the dream-way-too-big variety, maybe I strive for success bordering on insanity. At least I’m not a debbie downer! (No offense to anyone named Debbie.)

Even moments of success are coupled with mixed emotions. Positive thinking can only take one so far. I’m as normal as I can be – as I want to be – and self-awareness changes with time.

So if you can’t find me, I’ll be over here with all my sickening joy whilst you complain about what’s wrong. Just don’t be overly surprised when I don’t know what to say to comfort you. Most likely it will begin with “at least”….

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I ask you –

Do you have joy down in your heart? Everyone sing it with me! I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart!

Had you heard the term FONO before today?

Name some emotions that rhyme like this: Debbie Downer. Moody Judy.

Dreamer + Sickness

In a sickness-induced haze, I dreamt the following post:

1. I’d love to create a bookstore/winery. Imagine this – floor to ceiling dark, wooden bookshelves with a vast winery stretching into the distance. Each room surrounded with oversized comfy chairs and a fireplace in each corner. You heard it here first.

2. I also want to own a bakery. Sugar is my first love. From the very first time I realized the magic that happens when you cream butter and sugar together, I knew I was destined to be a baker. I say again – who eats cookies and cries? There was that one time, but it was due to extenuating circumstances. I’ll name each sugar-laden delectable a long, gloriously ridiculous name like “marshmallow magic butterflies covered in unicorn glitter”. P.S. I hate glitter and marshmallows.

3. Combine the two previous ideas with a running store and coffee shop. Of course the name of my blog could serve this idea well. Because after imbibing in wine, coffee, cookies, and remaining sedentary for hours, you’re going to need a new pair of shoes!

Currently I’m accepting cash and PayPal payments to go towards the necessary functions of becoming a business owner of which I have little experience in doing, but I can learn!

my co-owner and I

Also, in case you were concerned, my husband may or may not have tried to get rid of me by killing me with his cooking. Jokes on him. We both ended up with what I presume to be food poisoning so either he really didn’t intend to also hurt himself or he screwed up the plates. haHA I live to make his life hard another day!

But seriously. Food poisoning sucks. And it wasn’t his cooking. I’d almost take gastro onboard a floating chunk of steel than ever do this again. Almost.

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I ask you –

Which of the 3 options above is most likely to succeed?

Have you ever had food poisoning? Or gastro?

Just let me know if you’re willing to donate!

When the Sun Goes Down –

It was the end of a long, tough day. From discussion earlier, I had stated I was going home to eat cookie dough with the intention of it making me feel better, to heal my sad heart. The other person said they were going to drink beer. To each his own. As I scooped out bites of cookie dough – sugar free – the tears came. The grief that was building poured from me. My final thought? Great. Now I’m still sad, even full of cookie dough.

Which reminds me of when I was pregnant with my mini. One night I sat on the couch eating my favorite chocolate chip cookies. And I began to cry. Then I cried more, without any reason at all because hormones are hell, and my thought was this: Who cries while eating cookies?! Only a pregnant woman.

Before I forget, prior to the cookie-dough-and-crying fest, I developed what I now know as “amazonesia”. It’s a thing. Minus the part about Amazon and the part about amnesia, I went grief shopping. Add to cart…oh look, it’s pink, add to cart. Retail therapy is the other moniker.

And, if you’re reading this, then I have survived the run streak. Hmmmm. There is a schedule button, so perhaps not. They say it takes roughly 21 days to develop a habit. At day 25, the constant daily running began to become painful. But since the habit was there and the finish line so close I continued to run despite some questionable MCL/ACL bruising. If you recall, I took several weeks off when training for a December half marathon so hopefully there isn’t a pattern emerging. (Full disclaimer: I wrote the above lines prior to completing the run streak because I full well intended to complete it. Alas, my body had other plans and Day 27 was officially my final day of streaking. Huge thanks to the poisoning o’food I received. Too bad it wasn’t February already because then I would have only been short a day. Life goes on.) And if anything good was to come of hours upon hours of living inside my bathroom, I did write an incredibly funny blog post; stand by.

One month to recuperate then it’s time to begin training again. Unless I’ve already decided to start running again by the time you read this. That’s always possible, too.

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I ask you –

What are your grieving habits?

Have you heard of Amazonesia?

Share a time something good came of something horrible.

Collection of Phone Photos

Interestingly enough, my mini now prefaces all the photos she takes with a huge, dramatic sigh and the words “Are you going to put this on the blog?” Ummmm yeah, of course I am.

And if you ever wondered – fairly sure you haven’t because WHY would you – if PMS had a truly physical characteristic, like something you could really see on the outside, it’s this. I was craving pizza so bad, I had my husband drive me to the grocery store. In my pajamas! In my robe and slippers, if it’s not clear enough. This. This is what I’ve come to.

Lastly, I was eating pizza for breakfast one morning. Could have probably omitted that admission from this story. Suddenly a memory came back of mini putting a too hot piece of pizza in her mouth. Instead of spitting the piece out or doing any of the easiest options, she requests I blow into her mouth. I’d like to say I didn’t, I’d like to tell you all I laughed at this ridiculousness, I’d like to say lots of things here besides what actually happened. I blew air into her mouth. Because I have zero sense and would do literally anything to ensure she doesn’t needlessly suffer.

True, unfailing love is mostly without boundaries. All this work for naught.

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I ask you –

Do you keep a stool in your kitchen?

Have you ever wondered what PMS looks like? Wonder no more!

Share a crazy story of love for your child(ren)!

Lane of Laughs and Memories

I’ve tasked myself with re-posting some of the previous almost 2 years’ best posts. Best is in my opinion, of course. I should really get started on this soon.

You know what is easy? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. When it’s easy, I get suspicious. So putting this together is bound to be fraught with bumps and bruises. My adviser – whom would most definitely crack up if she heard I’m calling her this – said I’d put so much work into myself the past year, then asked what else should we address this year? At the time I had no retort. I’ve got it! Let’s go back to all that old sh*t and rehash it. No, not that stuff, the other stuff. Growth happens when we’re willing to face it head on. Or, in my case, run from it long enough to crash spectacularly then give in.

(This goal brought to you by social media.) Wouldn’t you know the very first person recommended to “be my friend” was my ex-husband? Wonderful but I’ll pass. A very good friend emailed me about avoiding the drama and crazies – so sorry, Dan, it was crazy right out of the gate. Good thing those expectations were low. And if you didn’t know I was married before, well now you do. Maybe I’ll tell you the story one day. I should probably ask permission first. Wait one.

It’s been fun seeing people I grew up with, went to college with, stalking my best friends I met in the Navy, judging people’s terrible grammar…you know, the usual things I do. Shouldn’t have admitted that, Kel. To be fair, surely others are doing the same to me. Not the grammar part though. Too, two, to. Opening up to strangers the opportunity to pass their own two cents is terrifying yet comical because I promise my ability to find out anything on anyone is unrivaled. Trust me. Don’t test me. I’m trying very hard not to resort to some old ways and I don’t have time for a prison stint.

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I ask you –

Do you know the difference between too, to, and two?

Share a favorite song!

Tell me something about you others wouldn’t easily guess!

Re-Introduction + Updates

Run streaking is going very well. I’m only a little surprised. What is very apparent to me is the amount of excuses I can make to not complete some of the prescribed runs during a training cycle. Yet I’ve managed to run every. single. day for this goal. Sometimes it’s only a mile, sometimes it’s three; but I do it. Granted the mileage isn’t high – no long runs, for sure. This is a proverbial marathon, not a sprint. Only maybe yesterday did I even consider I might want to continue the run streak through February. What else do you have to do?

If you’re new to the blog, we have a bit of a co-parenting style with my sweet mini me. Every other month she takes off to Tennessee to live with her dad. The amount of ‘missing’ her I feel has no words; however, we do what’s best for her and she’s had this type of life since she was born. Is there an award for most traveled under the age of 5? When she’s off on another month long adventure, my schedule looks like this: get the whole bed to myself (almost), cram literally everything I can into one month to make the time pass by quickly, and plan all the things I want to do with her for when she returns next month. Never said I was exciting.

HI! My name is Kelly and I can’t focus. Only when required. There tends to be many moving parts in my life; I wouldn’t have it any other way. Where’s the fun in one iron in the fire (or however it goes)? Fires may not last long so pile on the irons, is my motto. Never before have I said that so just work with me here. Please remember many of my blog posts, ahem, all of them, are typically written weeks in advance so you may be reading this up to a month after. This protects mine and my family’s privacy and allows ample time for me to overthink what I’ve said in a moment of clarity. Take nothing at face value; I mean no offense to anyone. All this being said, I paid for, designed, developed, and wrote this blog for my own use so I reserve the right to say what I want and in whatever humor I see fit. If you’re disappointed, join the club!

I love what I do. The sphere of influence I have is nothing next to His. My hope is to bless others in the same way I have been so very blessed. I’m not only a blogger; I’m a writer, a storyteller, a coffee-drinker, a joke teller. My jokes are particularly awful if I’m being very honest – which I’m not. My jokes are great!

The “I ask you” section below and located at the end of nearly every single one of my posts is not rhetorical unless stated otherwise. Please leave comments, questions, words of encouragement, whatever is on your heart when you read these posts. The back and forth of a friendship is my vision for Running on Fumes.

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I ask you –

Do you have a coffee bar? Which is better: making your own or purchasing from whomever makes the best for you?

How many irons in the fire do you normally juggle?

Please share a vision you have for your life!