Lifetime Immunity to Accountability

Managing one’s expectations is a sincere request. However, in order to accomplish this, it requires removing all emotion. Emotion clouds rational thinking. Further, I believe this may be nearly impossible for many because they don’t know what their expectations are! It’s difficult to manage something you don’t understand, or don’t know what the phrase means, much less requires to attain.

Example (paraphrased from actual conversation, all names removed to protect the innocent)

A man spent several years in and out of the hospital with his dying spouse. Suffice to say it was not a daily journey, but probably more inpatient as the illness progressed. He became bitter to the church he attended as no pastoral leadership ever called, came by, etc. This turned him off to big churches, and now he attends a presumably much smaller church. He made mention of great tithing to the previous church yet also conceded this should not mean anything (his mention implies the opposite).

I heard the following expectations: I am hurt, I want to be chased/noticed, I want my giving acknowledged, I am upset for not being contacted during this rough period in my life.

Let’s break this down further.

Anger towards a team of 5 (??) when I find it unlikely other churchgoers were not inquiring. I bet they were but because a select few did not, then anger expanded to everyone. Reality: pastoral leadership teams are human and cannot be reasonably expected to contact every single person in the church. If that’s the expectation, then you’ll most likely be disappointed. However, the body of the church, the very people who attend, step in and step up to help others. Being noticed is not necessarily from a leadership perspective. You can find peace in being noticed by peers.

Let’s shift the expectation.

Did you ask for help and were rejected? Did you share your struggles with others? Did you name your needs? Perhaps you’re hurt by what you didn’t get rather than noticing what was given. If this is your expectation, then some soul searching may be a great idea.

Tithing: it was clearly stated how the man gave generously. Somehow I bet he put his name all over that envelope, aligning with the desire to be noticed. Granted, there are other reasons to include the name – tax write off, proof of spending, etc. But to bring it up in the course of this conversation implies a pronounced expectation that a tithing church member should receive extra benefits. Does this mean the ones who do not give are lower on the list of salvation? Surely not. Admittedly, the man stated it should not matter yet it obviously did to him. An angry man doth not a cheerful tither make.

Expectation shift.

Give because you want to. Give because you can. Giving out of coercion, guilt, or the intentional or unintentional desire to gain something later is manipulative. If money is the problem, give time, give encouragement, give a helping hand. If you think dollar bills get you closer to God, you probably have a very wrong opinion of Him.

No one is immune to doing the right thing. There’s no blanket pass, or unlimited cards which will condone indecent behavior. Just be a good human, and study the word “expectations”. Then apply it.

_____________________

I ask you –

What does expectations and the management of them mean to you?

(The post Lifetime Immunity to Accountability first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Coming out of the fog

Probably not a fully accurate title because, hello, brain fog. Although I do think it has gotten better. I’ve found if I pause a second longer and try not to be too hard on myself, then the full sentence comes with less effort. I’m also considering just acting as if I don’t know the English word by asking ¿Como se dice….(Insert thrown together syllables with a mild Spanish accent) in English? Really butcher both languages so everyone is as confused as your mental wiring.

What was the point? Oh right, Kel. The fog. It is a new feeling being fully present for mini’s return to school. I feel as if I unintentionally missed many small details due to being engrossed in my own academic journey. This is the first year in 3 I have not been navigating school when mini started back. Sadly, I don’t think I enjoyed her excitement as much as I could/should have previously because I was stressed about my own.

4th grade

On the drive to school, I asked mini what she wanted to be for Halloween. She was just as surprised as I was considering an event so far down the road pun intended. Last year, I couldn’t fathom anything beyond the following week. Now look at me! My mind was already in October!

Also, the brain vitamins sucked. Nothing new beyond a possible, mild placebo effect. Guess I have to do this brain fog thing au naturel. Copious lists and como se dice’s.

_____________________

I ask you –

How is the brain fog treating you? Or do we just call it forgetfulness and attribute it to old age?

(The post Coming out of the fog first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Back on my….

Scene

Parts, the Passenger Seat Princess, yelling at the truck in front of us while we’re merging onto a road where other drivers are merging in the opposite lanes: “It’s a yield sign, not a stop sign!”

Me: “Those people (referencing the ones on the other side) aren’t going to yield.”

Parts: “Well, if you just whip over in front of them, they will!”

Me: ….. -↓

I promptly removed my spare key from her purse. I think her driving privileges should be revoked.

___________________

I ask you –

What asinine advice have you been given?

(The post Back on my… first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Defining Moments

I am sure everyone has small, unsuspecting yet defining moments to reference who/why they are the way they are. The title came to me when considering mini’s recent dance recital. Subsequent thoughts traversed from her love of dance and performing arts to my lack thereof. Instead, I thought back to a moment where I stood on a makeshift stage, speech in hand, ready to convince my entire middle school I deserved to be elected into the student council. I recall spending days forming my speech and reading it to my dad. It was good. If I do say so myself.

But after 2 students ahead of me, listening to their brief and not entirely convincing schpill, I second guessed myself. When it was my turn, I said my name, said please elect me, and quickly exited. Talk about disappointment. When my name was not called for the electees, it was no big surprise. But it was at that moment I knew I would not minimize myself again for something I truly wanted.

Hip Hop

Fast forward. A singular moment in time shaped me. Just as you, loyal readers, have similar (or vastly different) experiences, these moments shape, erode, and refine. It’s fascinating how one experience can have lifelong effects. Mini will seemingly always love dance. She’s good at it, and if dancing doesn’t take her where she wants to be, assuredly her sass will.

Credit: IG

_________________

I ask you –

Share a time you didn’t bring your A-game.

(The post Defining Moments first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Fighting the good fight

Today, the day got the best of me. I felt no emotion in a situation where I probably should have. I know it was there before. But today? No dice.

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/5-criteria-exceptional-work-ethic-april-donovan

Occasionally I attend self-care and self-help type presentations. Or I give them. Something I like to mention are the effects of mental load. Most people are familiar with Newton’s something or other law about pressure and load and force, etc. The same applies to humans. The mental load of caring for, disciplining, and explaining life to other humans is remarkably taxing on the mind.

For example, making a grocery list. First, come up with meal ideas. Then, write those down. Next, consider what ingredients to purchase for those meals. But, first, find out what ingredients are already on hand. Scratch out, rewrite, repeat. This is a smaller mental load than, for example, disciplining employees. It’s no wonder the Facebook guru dude only wears blue shirts and jeans. Less mental load!

https://neurosciencenews.com/moms-mental-load-28244/

Before any other parents or parenting partners get their feelings hurt (I do the laundry, I cook!), yes, typically, mothers carry the heaviest mental load. Maybe it’s by default, maybe it’s the natural order of life, I’m not a doctor of that stuff. What I can say is the stress of being responsible for child-related tasks is more of a motherly duty.

All this to make a point about mental load in the workplace, especially for those with supervisory roles, balancing employees’ needs with the mission’s needs. Some days I offer feedback to adults acting like children, and some days I escape the day unscathed, with most of my sanity still intact. And on the roughest days, no matter the dazed and confused look I carry for hours, the next day brings renewed joy and hope to fight the good fight.

Some people are caretakers. Some are takers. The mental load finds balance where it can.

_________________

I ask you –

Before this post, had you heard of mental load?

How often do you consider the load of mundane tasks?

Which are you: caretaker or taker.

(The post Fighting the good fight first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Get(ting) Over It.

That’s what my knee feels like inside. A fireplace! Just when I think it’s gotten better or I haven’t noticed any pain, here it comes, out of the blue. Ready to wreck my day. 13 weeks of fireworks inside there. This is so much fun.

On the drive to the island, we stopped at the Czech Stop in West, Texas, home of the most amazing cinnamon roll I’ve ever had. The lovely employees warmed it up, handed it to me wrapped in wax paper, and gave us a stack of napkins. I inhaled it in about 0.79 seconds. I’m still thinking about that cinnamon roll.

You know those people who, just the very sound of their voice, makes you angry? I know one of them. In fact, my words are I’d rather cut the grass with my teeth than have a conversation with them. But you know what? So glad you asked. Here they come, trying to have conversations with me, ahem…need something. I’ve been known to walk the other direction, taking the looooong way home, to avoid conflict, I mean conversation. Grudge much.

Grief is an interesting thing. It finally happened, the voice I had been waiting on, my very own Jiminy Cricket, if you will, spoke these words: Get Over It. Suddenly, I realized I had been living in anger the past few months, unwilling to accept it might still be grief. Sure, I said it on RoF, I was dealing with grief, but I hadn’t fully addressed it. It was shrouded in anger, anger never expressed, anger I believed would mask the grief. No, child. Not only did I experience the entirety of anger, but I still had to navigate grief, too. Seems unfair. If only I had recognized it for what it was, an additional emotion vice a substitute. 30 years is a long time to grieve. And an even longer time to hold on to anger.

Get over it, Kel. I did/am/will/continue to.

_______________

I ask you –

Do you prefer real wood or the pre-made logs in your fireplace?

Which is the best: the middle or the outside of a cinnamon roll? Middle. Always.

Share something you’re working to get over.

(The post Get(ting) Over It. first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Defiant and Noncompliant

I’ve (mostly) come back to my senses so allow me to share the good things, the fun, the holiday spirit activities before too much of January arrives with all its circumstances.

I connected with like-minded others who have a passion for servant leadership. Some are also self-described adrenaline junkies, which I believe speaks to a world of chaos I’m mildly interested in exploring.

I reconnected with a special person who will probably never read this post, but holds space in my heart. We were both very young when I joined his family, so to see him as an adult, with children of his own, but with the same mischievous smile of years past – a huge smile crosses my own face.

The weight bench and weights represent strength, but more than traditional strength equipment. They are joy, peace, and a fair amount of pain. The past 2 winters I’ve been unable to run on the island like I train year-round to do. It’s disappointing. So I continue to train in other ways…ways that make me feel strong.

Sharing some words spoken to me, in natural muse-like behavior: You may be biased. But you are fair. I can’t think of anything better than to be known as fair, especially when leading others. Maybe I’m doing something right.

Lastly, a lesson in obedience rather than how I’ve been obedient. Some have a certain type of face they must keep under wraps. You know the one. The infamous RBF. Luckily, I don’t have one of those. However, I do have a very prominent laugh. It’s loud. It’s me. If only I could control it. I can’t. It bubbles out of me like a fountain spewing joy at the most inopportune times. The pastor called me his favorite heckler. Probably not a compliment. People stare. Some smile so that makes me feel better. Others look over in alarm. As they should. The legacy I leave won’t be for world peace, or lavish contributions to society, but to the worst timing of a laugh. I guess we’re all remembered for something.

____________

I ask you –

What connections have you made lately?

Any go-to activities when you can’t do what you love?

Tell me your defining trait!

(The post Defiant and Noncompliant first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Anew in 2025

My heart has been hurting for some time now. The holidays had me at war with myself. Every day in November, I did one thing for myself. I went to the coffee shop frequently, I escaped work to go window shopping, I went on long walks, I dated me. In December, I set a goal to work out as much during the week as possible. I created my own workouts to excuse the knee pain, I religiously followed up with doctors to get the X-ray and MRI, I pushed hard for me.

Then, the diagnosis of patellar tendonitis. Doesn’t sound so bad. My first question – can I run? Short answer: not yet. There’s still inflammation, there’s still remedies, there’s still physical therapy. I was happy with a diagnosis and thankful for an intact meniscus, but I still can’t run. I’m still in pain. There’s still swelling. I’m not ready to run, I know, I know. Yet I really wanted to just take off, down the street, carefree, moving my body the way I love to do.

2024: 267 miles

Afterwards, the threat of government shutdown, of furloughing my staff, of making dozens of notifications to people who just want to enjoy their holiday. My thin thread of sanity was fraying. My hard-fought and well-earned beach vacation was beginning to feel like a middle finger to everyone left behind. The one beating heart inside me threatened to collapse.

I should be excited. I should be ready to tackle the new year. My ethics board review will most likely be completed early January. I can begin scheduling, then traveling for my research. I will graduate in 2025.

But, for whatever reason, peace eludes me. The things I’ve tried to fill my time with, to refocus on, to overcome, have not been enough. I’m getting there. This is a hard one. And I think it’s important that others know you’re not alone.

Artist: B. N.

Not to worry. I’m ok. Just need a little more time.

_______________

I ask you –

Any defining word for 2025?

Feel free to share your difficulties with the holidays or regarding life in general. We’re all doing the best we can.

(The post Anew in 2025 first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Memory Lane + Soundtrack

Song #1

Music is impenetrably tied to memories. The weather change, a few notes of a song, and I’m transported back to a simpler time. Nights and weekends were spent escaping the confines of a small town via open windows and slow drives down dusty back roads. Extra points if you managed to get lost. Many life lessons were learned with good friends, some of those lessons without a statute of limitations. Shameless.

20 years post-high school graduation, the memories still live rent free in my head, which today is mostly clouded with busy work and anxiety. Oh, but how I love to go back to those moments in time that made me me.

Photo by Stas Knop on Pexels.com

Admittedly, I had a wild side that I balanced with being top of my class and working hard to support myself. Untouchable. An interesting word which would eventually come back around to describe me in a different career. Although this may sound like bragging, I can assure you it’s not. It probably kept me safe on more than one occasion, even if it didn’t prevent the absolutely worst humans intent on harm. I’m still standing.

Song #2

My dissertation anthem. I believe I intended to write a different post near the end of this journey but I probably won’t remember what I was planning to say then so why not.

Music and memories, that’s where it’s at. Fairly certain I’ve published other posts along the same lines, get it, get it, but my tag skills are rough so it hasn’t been easy to find.

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I ask you –

Did you own cassette tapes?

What old song is living in your head?

Tell me about your anthem!

(The post Memory Lane + Soundtrack first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

A Tough One to Write

Last week’s September 11th memorials had me considering how it’s hard to believe 23 years have gone by. For the families and loved ones of those lost on that date, 23 years probably feels like yesterday. For mini, who honors the date with school functions, doesn’t have a memory of this event and most likely doesn’t understand the way the world changed that day – it can be difficult to grasp the significance, which got me thinking about the events our young people will remember as they age. For example, a string of recent school shootings. Although I rarely, if ever, speak of political things on RoF, it saddens me these are the memories and perhaps fears of our youth. Someone, somewhere, is remembering today (whatever day you read this) as the day they were rushed out of a school in the wake of some tragic circumstance. Someone, somewhere, is grieving their loved one who lost their life in a place they should have been the safest.

I don’t have the answer. I don’t proclaim to know what we should do to prevent senseless acts of violence. I do know firearm ownership is protected by the Constitution/Amendments. I also know many individuals do not have the mental or physical capability or capacity to competently exhibit those rights. And I absolutely do not wish to debate any of these points.

However, it’s a shame our society is punctuated with tragic, life-taking acts. It’s devastating. We should do better. We should want to do better, especially for our children.

So, today, hug your children, whatever age they are. Call them just to hear their voice. Never has anyone said “I wish I hadn’t held them”.

_________________

I ask you –

No questions today.

(The post A Tough One to Write first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)