When You Feel Sad: Life Lessons from a Kindergartner

My heart sank on Monday when Violet's mom told me she wouldn't be able to come for her visit. I'd been having a tough week emotionally and spiritually, and was looking forward to our time together. It's hard to feel sad in the presence of a five-year-old, especially Miss V. I was consoled by the fact that she would be coming the next day.

As Violet kicked off her shoes by the front door, and hung her backpack up on the banister, she began to tell me about her day. We sat down at the kitchen table, and quietly ate the ice cream her mom had sent with her. I was impressed with her new vocabulary words she was learning in math; sphere, cone, and cylinder, and she told me a square is a special rectangle. Violet said one of the boys in her class had cried, and one of the girls told her she wouldn't invite her to her party. I heard all about the kindergarten elections (Duck beat Farmer Brown, in case you're interested), and tried my best to answer her questions about the Presidential election. I'm not sure I helped; I may have been as confused as she was. It had been a day of ups and downs for my young friend. 

As it turns out, I wasn't the only one having a bad week. Violet was so sad and scared after school yesterday that she had cried on her bus ride home. She had talked to her mom about it, and then she shared it with me. 

Violet focused on getting her vanilla ice cream onto her spoon, while I tried to assure her that she was safe because her mom and dad will always be there to protect her and love her. When she told me she usually keeps her sad things to herself, I reminded her that it's okay to feel sad, and it's always good to talk to someone about it. Violet nodded, her big brown eyes looking at me through those long eyelashes. She was so quiet, and much more subdued. It seemed she was carrying quite a burden. 

Adults are not the only ones experiencing worry or anxiety this week. I could relate to my young friend's feelings. 

Miss Violet seemed to have matured so much since I last saw her. We usually take lots of silly selfies, and she almost always loves to show me her gymnastics tricks in the living room, but not this time. This visit was different. I just followed her lead, and let her decide what we should do.

Guess how we passed the afternoon. We simply spent time together. We ate ice cream. Some of the time we talked, and some of the time we didn't say a word. Silence is okay when you're with friends who understand what you're not saying, too. We went outside for some fresh air at the park. We decorated the Christmas tree, and we colored in a coloring book together on the living room floor. 

We did nothing fancy or elaborate, we just spent time together. There is a comfort to be found in our friends, whether young or old. 

If, like Violet and me, you are struggling to get on top of emotions this week, here are some things you might want to try. I think Violet had some good ideas for dealing with the sads.

When You Feel Sad

1. Cry, if you feel like it.

2. Talk to your mom.

3. Spend time with a friend.

4. Learn something new. (Kindergartners learn something new every single day. I was impressed with her sign language, reading, writing, and math vocabulary.)

5. Eat some ice cream. (Or the comfort food of your choice.)

6. Go outdoors for some exercise and fresh air.

7. Do something that makes you feel happy.

8. Entertain yourself with something that doesn't require your brain to work too hard.

When it was time for Violet to go, I realized I felt so much better. We had done things together that made me feel calm and relaxed. Miss V had helped me forget some of my worries, if only for a little while.

Maybe you have more suggestions for kids and grown-ups to try when we are feeling sad. Violet and I would be happy to hear from you, if you do. 

Love Will Prevail

Maybe I was a little premature in tapering off of my antidepressants, what with the onset of Daylight Savings Time, the election, and all. Yeah, quitting antidepressants was probably the dumbest move of my year so far, considering winter is swiftly approaching, and I have had to battle seasonal affective disorder in the past.

My emotions need a reset. Ever since the middle of the night Sunday, I have had a black cloud hanging over me. There has been a sense of dread, sadness, and worry. While I know that I am actually safe, and fine, and loved, my heart feels threatened. Maybe yours does, too. And no wonder.

Our country has been so divided. There has been so much hate, distrust, and anger. Each morning, I have felt like my emotions have been poking me with a stick, reminding me to worry and to be anxious. If happiness is an inside job, I have much work to do, starting with myself.

It was not yet 4:00 when I reached for my phone on the nightstand. The blue light glowed in my hand as my iPhone delivered the election results. Sigh. So many of my friends were reeling from the news. And some of my friends were celebrating the victory. The division continues. My week was not getting any better. 

You can bet I dug to the back of our medicine cabinet this morning, and popped one of those green pills into my mouth before I even had my first cup of coffee this morning. What do I do now? Sit on the couch, and wait for the antidepressants to work? Ain't nobody got time for that. 

We have work to do today, my friends. There is still good in this world, all around us, and it is up to us to find it, to point it out, and to promote it. Look for the good. Have faith in our fellow countrymen. We need to lift each other up.

We, the people, can make a difference. Today, we need to remind each other that we are here for each other. We need to see the love and the goodness that has always been here, and we need to remember that together, we are a force with which to be reckoned. 

For me, that means I need to work extra-hard at being grateful; at finding the positives. I need to look outside of myself, and find others who may need encouragement and love at this time. I need to count my blessings, and I may need to help others count theirs.

Right now, I need to immerse myself in goodness and love. Reaching out to friends and family helps. Counting my blessings helps. Loving the people I know best helps. Doing something for someone else with no expectation of reciprocation helps.

Slow deep breaths always help me feel better. It is a place to start this morning; just breathing. While this week has been challenging for me, I'm grateful to still feel emotionally strong enough to count the blessings I have. It's not the stuff, the material goods. It's the people, and their good hearts. You, my family and friends, are my biggest blessings.

We will continue to love and support each other. We will continue to fight the good fight. Love will prevail, even when life seems oppressive and dark. I believe that with all my heart. We can embrace each other with hope. Hope will keep the flame of love alive. Let our love unite us.

Hate will never win, if I have a say, and I believe I do. I believe we all do. Let love prevail.

November's Back in Town

October is over, and as much as I love autumn, I am even more excited now. I have loved November for as long as I can remember. It's my birth month. What can I say? I'm just a kid at heart, and as a kid, I still love celebrating my birthday.

Yes, I know I am spoiled. My husband indulges me in nearly everything that he is able. Chuck somehow manages to step up his game even more this time of year. We started our first weekend this month by having date night at the Chicago Botanic, and eating at Barnaby's pizza after Take Your Wife to Work Day.

Chicago Botanic Gardens

Saturday morning we set out early for Galena, Illinois, enjoying the rolling hills of western Illinois along the way. Our first stop was the Victory Cafe for an early lunch, and then we wandered around town, poking our heads into the cute little boutique shops, sampling jellies and sauces, and looking at antiques. 

Chuck convinced me to trudge to the top of the stairs downtown so we could look over the rooftops, and see what pictures we could find above Main Street. Yoga is making me more limber, but I really need to step up my cardio game. I was wheezing, and gasping for air by the time we got to the top. 

I noticed there was a funeral home at the bottom of the stairs, and a church next door to that. Last rites, anyone? Thankfully, we survived our jaunt up and down the 148 steps, and did not require the services of either building. 

There was a very suspicious bricked entrance into the side of the hill at the rear of the funeral home's parking lot. My imagination went a little crazy wondering what was in there. 

Chuck has opened up a whole new world to me here in the midwest. I do miss the mountains of Utah, but one day we will return to them when Chuck retires. For now, I am enjoying Chicagoland, and the surrounding states. I will miss the suburbs and the city one day, too, so I'm trying to soak it all up while we still can. 

I captured this shot when Chuck was waiting for me at the end of a hallway.
My Handsome looks so wistful. He is always thinking; I love his brain, as much as his heart.

Here are some of my favorite shots from our photo safaris from Friday and Saturday.

No Owner's Manual

This canvas has hung on my walls for several years, as a reminder to write every day.

For awhile, I have been fascinated with old manual typewriters; I suppose it has something to do with being a writer. Chuck wants me to have one, and has offered to buy a vintage one for me. It would be like a 3-D reminder to write; a sort of inspirational relic. 

I had three criteria for the perfect manual: 

1. The typewriter had to look cool.

2. The price should be reasonable.

3. Bonus, if it is functional.

While we were visiting the historic district in Galena, Illinois, we stopped at Granny's Attic, and we were both drawn to an old Underwood typewriter. I was shocked at the $145 price tag,  and Chuck reminded me he was more than willing to spend that much, if I loved it. 

That's the thing; I don't fall in love with stuff much any more. I've had to purge my belongings too many times to allow myself to get attached to things. The Underwood was cool, but the price seemed outrageous to me, and the antique store wouldn't let me touch it to find out if it worked. Two strikes against it. Nope. I thought about it a little longer, and decided no, I would wait. 

I was so glad I did. I would've had buyer's remorse within the hour. We wandered around another store, EZSELLUSA, a consignment shop on Commerce Street. We didn't see much of interest among the furniture and knick-knacks, but as we were leaving, Chuck asked the proprietor if he had any old typewriters. 

"As a matter of fact, one just came in yesterday. It's in my office."

Could this be the one? I wondered. It looked cool to me. I was given a piece of paper, and after Chuck figured out how to make the platen work, I was able to type "I love you" on the paper. BONUS. When the owner told us it was a 1941 Remington Rand that he would sell us for $50, I high-fived Chuck, and said, "SOLD!" 

It's cool. It was a bargain, and it works. What's not to love? It might not have come with an owner's manual, but I'm now the proud owner of a manual. 

This birthday girl is a happy birthday girl.

Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth

90% Eeyore

Yesterday was not a bad day, but I had a really bad attitude, so it felt like one. I usually love the time change, but for some reason, I kept waking up, and each time, I would have to do mental math gymnastics to figure out what time it really was because I had not changed the clock on my nightstand. I finally got up, just to end the misery of staying in bed, and not being able to sleep. 

Looking back, I should have done my yoga first, and given myself a chance to get my blood flowing and to really wake up. But no, it was Sunday, and I pulled my Bible off the shelf, and settled into my recliner with a cup of coffee, and got ready to read the good word. As it turns out, I was not ready for the day, and all it held.

For the last month or so, I had given myself a break after reading Exodus, and treated myself to the Psalms. I figured I deserved some poetry; some lighter reading. My devotion time has been great, most of the time, but yesterday, I had decided to get back to my schedule, and Leviticus was on the docket. Have you ever read Leviticus? Blood sacrifice is not for the faint of heart. You don't want to do it when you're feeling queasy; that's for sure. 

First of all, I should mention that for about 15 years, I lived IN a meat packing plant, or beside one. I can tell you a little bit about killing animals, about entrails, about blood, about excrement, and I can tell you a lot about the smell. That smell will haunt my nostrils forever.

So, as I'm reading about sinners' instructions for atoning for their sins by bringing a young bull without blemish to the priest, and laying their hands on its head before they kill it, and the priests sprinkling blood on the wood of the altar, I can't help it. I am imagining the smell of that place. That place of sanctification. Of holiness. Of dedication. 

And I am there, wrinkling my nose, trying not to wretch as I beg forgiveness for my sins. I feel the overwhelming sense of sadness as I look into the eyes of that innocent animal before it is killed, knowing that it is going to die because of my weaknesses and lack of commitment. I am aware of the smell of death that lingers in this holy place, and I realize that all of the smoldering incense in the world will never mask that underlying odor. 

So I managed to push through the first three chapters of Leviticus before I had my breakfast, and I was not feeling lighthearted at all. The opposite is what I felt, so I turned to my reading for my women's Bible study group, which I have thoroughly enjoyed, and I was hopeful I would be able to turn my mood around. But no. Not yesterday. My additional reading just added insult to injury. 

As I was reading about tolerance, which is so important to me, I began to feel nervous. Tolerance, acceptance, and not judging others are very dear to my heart. I want to do more than tolerate the people around me; I want to love, encourage, and uplift those who feel marginalized. 

As I continued to read, I felt a sense of dread as I read this quote:

"Tolerance is perhaps the ultimate value of our culture. Ironically, there is little, if any, cultural tolerance for commitment to absolutes."

And then the example given of absolute truth jumped right into one of the biggest controversies of all: creationism versus evolution. All along, I've been able to accept that there is scientific evidence that supports the evolution of plants and animals on earth, AND that God created all of this. Knowledgeable men of God since the beginning of time have told us there are some mysteries we don't have to understand at this time; we just need to trust God. I was okay with knowing God created the earth, and every single thing in it. And I was okay with archeologists discovering bones and fossils that are records of life from millions of years ago. It is mysterious, and wonderful to me. 

But in my reading, the author of the book makes this bold statement:

"If evolution is a subject you are interested in investigating further, you will find that the supposed scientific consensus on the subject isn't real."

And just like that, I closed the book. I realized I was in no condition to read anything else that assaulted my mental and spiritual state. I was done. Old memories had been stirred up in Leviticus, and my way of thinking was being challenged by this modern day author. I felt myself sinking into a sadness that would not be easy to bring myself out of. 

Chuck knew I was struggling. We talked things over after breakfast, but I was not able to shake the feelings that plagued my thoughts. I really wanted to stay home from church, and just stay in bed, but I knew I should go. 

Sidenote: In the author's defense, Chuck says I may have interpreted his words incorrectly. The author wasn't saying the EVIDENCE isn't real, which is what I initially thought. He was saying that the scientists are not as united as we might be led to believe about the theory of evolution. The "supposed scientific concensus isn't real." Okay, I can see that. I was still upset because I felt like the wording was inviting me to take a stand, although with the contrariness I was courting yesterday, I felt backed into a corner, and I just didn't have any fight in me.

Why do things have to seem so hard when I'm feeling low? My mind was reeling with visions of innocent animals being slaughtered to atone for hard-headed, and cold-hearted humans. I kept smelling the foul smell of death, and blood, and guts. And on top of that, how dare someone challenge my simple way of looking at creation? How dare he tell me that scientific evidence isn't real? (I know now; he didn't say that exactly.) How ignorant was that? (How ignorant was I?)

And then I wondered if somehow I was sinning to believe in my own little creation theory, sprinkled with bits of evolution. Was God angry that I was allowing my mood to be overtaken by my thoughts? Was he disappointed that I was so prideful, and arrogant, and close-minded myself, that I couldn't even read a view that may be in opposition to my own without losing my temper? 

As we settled in the car for the 35 minute drive to church in Naperville, Chuck asked me how I was feeling. Using a 100-Acre Wood reference I knew he would understand, I told him I was "90% Eeyore/10 % Rabbit."

He smiled, understanding, and said, "Well, that's not much improvement, is it?" No. No, it wasn't. I was still feeling hopeless, and more than a little arrogant. 

I cried through the beginning of church. I buried my face in Chuck's chest, and cried while everyone around me sang songs of praise to God. I sniffled, and wiped tears off my cheeks while our cheerful pastor greeted us, and welcomed us on this glorious Sunday after the Cubs' huge win in the World Series. There was so much joy around me, and all I felt was sadness, disappointment, and gloom.

Last night when Chuck kissed me goodnight, he reminded me that a new day was coming, and things would seem better in the morning. 

Today is Monday, and my mood is lifting, and I am able to think more clearly. I haven't had the energy to peek in to see what Leviticus has to say today, but I've re-read the lesson about tolerance, and absolute truth. I'm willing to open my mind a little more, and question myself on my own beliefs.

It seems to me that when I feel overwhelmed, slightly threatened, and like I am way outside of my comfort zone, I'm on the verge of learning something important. These life lessons don't come cheap, but they are usually worth the price. 

Today, I'm feeling much less like Eeyore; thank goodness. For now, I am grateful to feel a little more like myself. It's nice to have the energy to face the day, and look forward to spending some time with the man who loves me through all of my moods, from Eeyore to Tigger. He is my Christopher Robin in our 100-Acre Woods, and I am grateful to have his love and support.  

To the Morning

I am thankful for mornings. I love the earliest hours of the day because that is a legitimate time to be futzing and puttering around the house, and gearing up to have my brain engaged and productive. Morning means night is over, and I can finally get up. It is peaceful, and so quiet, and I'm the only one awake. I am totally in charge of this time of day.

Just lately, I've been listening to some of my favorite musicians from the 80s, and by 80s, I don't mean hair bands. I loved John Denver, the Carpenters, James Taylor, Carly Simon, and Dan Fogelberg. This is one of my favorite songs by Dan, "To the Morning."

Last night I woke frequently, the first time around 10:20, and then several more times as the night dragged on. I was so relieved to see 4:38 on the clock. I could finally get up, and get the day started! I grabbed my tank top and yoga pants, and headed downstairs. 

My morning routine is quiet, and sets the tone for my day. While I stretch every single muscle on my yoga mat, the aroma of coffee drifts from the kitchen as the coffee maker gurgles and sputters. As soon as I whisper my namasté at the conclusion of my session of yoga,  I roll up my mat, and head to the kitchen to make myself a sweet, creamy cup of coffee. The next little while I settle into my recliner and read from the Book of Psalms, and sip on my cup of joe, reminding myself to be intentional, and to seek the spirit throughout the day. After I have taken this time for myself, I feel more alert, and ready to face the day. There is so much to look forward to still. Breakfast with Chuck, our chat during his commute, and watching the sunrise.

Today was, as Chuck calls it, "Bring Your Beautiful Bride to Work" day. I just call it "Take Your Wife to Work Day." We both like alliteration, so both phrases work. It's Friday, and we love going to Deerfield together so we can start our date night as soon as he gets off work at 3. 

We watched the sunrise together, and then we spent a little time at his office before his meetings started, and then we parted company until lunch. 

It was only eight in the morning, and I was looking forward to walking around the Lone Wolf Forest Preserve. The sun was climbing in the sky, but it was chilly in the shade along the trail. I wished I'd packed some light gloves for my hands. I took some photos with my phone, and just soaked up the serenity around me. 

I even saw a cardinal. It made me think of Daddy, and my eyes began to sting. "Good morning, Daddy. I don't even know if you can hear me, but just in case, I love you so much, and I miss you." I will always miss my dad. 

Now I'm at the library, and enjoying this time to write and read. Enjoy your day, friends. It's going to be a good one!

"Yes, it's going to be a day.

There is really nothing left to say but

'Come on, morning.'"

-Dan Fogelberg