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Naturally Calamity Jane

Stumbling towards Serenity

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Month: August 2018

August 29, 2018Naturally Calamity Jane9 Comments on What’s the Risk?!

What’s the Risk?!

August 26, 2018Naturally Calamity Jane9 Comments on Hiatus

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Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen ~ Brené Brown . Authentic, vulnerable, raw, real, self-love...all the words on the forefront of my mind and making their way onto my page time and time again. I have found with age, coupled with the desire to get to know my true self, my confidence in myself has grown. As has the desire to be free of have to’s, shoulds and doubt, fear and insecurities. However 40+ years of being leaves a significant imprint that requires constant mindful awareness to begin changing behaviours and beliefs that have become reflexes. . I have read all the words in books such as The Life Changing Magic of Not Giving a F@ck, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F@ck and You Are a Badass. They all speak to the notion of being unapologetically me and to be free of the fear and limiting behaviour of worrying about what others think, how they view me and how I “should” act, feel or think. The idea that what others think of me is none of my business. And I have no control over others reactions anyway. To shed the mask and be myself and stand in my truth is to live wholeheartedly. . There is an inherent danger in this. There is a danger in believing that to no longer give a f@ck means to disregard others entirely. To live a life where fewer f@cks are given is not a free license to be an asshole. It doesn’t equate to being mean, cold, insulting or self serving. Can you embody all of those things? Of course, but not without consequence. No, I don’t have control over how others perceive me. But I do have control over my own thoughts, feelings and actions. And I can choose to conduct myself with consideration of others and with kindness. There is still accountability for my words, for my actions and for living with integrity 💚

The Space Between . One week ago I was sitting in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting my appointment with a foot and ankle specialist. An orthopedic surgeon to be precise. I had no information at that time, other than my foot hurt. A lot. I also knew it was the same foot I had previously broken and that the pain felt alarmingly similar. As I sat there and watched other anxious, potential surgery, patients walk, hobble and limp their way into varying examination rooms, my thoughts, driven by my fears, went to all the worst possible case scenarios. Although I wasn’t sure which case would be the worst: being told I needed surgery and would be sidelined for months; or having no answers, and no clear management plan for the pain and impeded mobility in my foot. As I bounced between all the imaginary outcomes, my phone buzzed in my clenched hands. I looked at the screen, lit up and indicating a text message from my soul sister. . Are you in a waiting room? I’m holding space for you. What do you need? . Full link in bio

Life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it ~ Charles Swindoll Last week I was told the news that I had been dreading, my foot is broken again. Despite my retirement from running and despite the mindfulness of limiting my impact on my foot, it broke. It is broken, again. * I know that everything is different this time, I know I'm in a better place, I know that the past does not dictate the future, but those old feelings are also very real and triggers are not necessarily rational. A trigger is any stimulus that sets off a memory or flashback that transports a person back to the the event of her original trauma. Triggers are very personal, generally involving the senses, or experiences that were reminiscent of old painful feelings. This can cause feelings that are overwhelming, including sadness, anxiety or panic. There are several theories about how triggers are formed, most of them involve fight or flight responses, sensory stimuli and the way memories are formed. * Regardless of the theory underlying my trigger, I find myself thrust back into a hauntingly familiar place. The pain of the foot- and heartbreak all too real. I am finding it difficult to differentiate fact from fiction, the past from the present. Currently, I find myself a few months into a relationship that has sparked hope, trust and that feeling of vulnerability as I start the fall, the tumble. But I find myself with limited mobility, and struggling with The Sadness that comes along with it. What if I'm not fun anymore? * Full link in Bio

I was complaining that I had no shoes till I met a man who had no feet ~ Confucius * Being extraordinarily active is part of who I am. When I broke my foot two years ago and was forced to stop running, I questioned my identity. The sense of loss, confusion, and frustration were overwhelming. I no longer had my “outlet”, my “thing”. I was a runner. Period. As my foot healed eventually, I found that returning to running was not something that was safe or healthy. At least not in the way that I had been running. Six days a week, three hour weekend runs, four half marathons per year. My body was rejecting this whole idea and although my mind and heart were stubborn and unyielding, eventually my soul won out as I knew in my gut, I needed to stop. * I grieved this loss. I also hit a wall and the darkness that came along with it. There was growth, learning and resilience to be found in that darkness. And I am grateful for those who came with their flashlights to show me where to find those lessons and strength. * Yesterday I was told the news that I had been dreading for a week, my foot is broken again. Despite my retirement from running and despite the mindfulness of limiting my impact on my foot, it broke. It is broken. Although my life and context is different this time, hearing those words confirming what I already knew deep down, was a highly triggering experience. I was thrust back to my dark times. Remembering those thoughts and feelings was like watching myself on the TV screen. I have no intention of returning or being part of a remake. * I was gently reminded this morning that there is a lesson in this for me. I may not know it right now, but there is another lesson to be learned. I was also reminded to be grateful for what I have. To flip the script. I am grateful. I am resilient. And I will surrender to what my body is telling me and the lessons, growth and strength to be gained. * Sometimes the things we can’t change end up changing us.

To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone ~ Reba McEntire . My tooth fell out. Perhaps I should be more specific, half of my right front tooth fell off. It was February and I was on vacation in the Bahamas, not ideal timing. I was sitting on a tall bar stool at the center island in my girlfriend’s kitchen, drinking wine and eating veggies and dip. I bit into a celery stick and the front half of my tooth fell off. To be fair, what fell off wasn’t actually real tooth, at least not anymore, but rather the fake “cap” that was applied several years ago after an unfortunate softball incident. . We were warming up for another intense, beer league, softball game. No beers had actually been consumed (nor were any harmed) at that stage. I was in the middle of teasing another player about his unfortunate ball to the head the previous game, when I raised my glove to catch a pop fly, but instead of catching it with my glove I caught it squarely with my face. Instant karma. My lip required 8 stitches to put it back together, my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding and I lost the front half of both of my front teeth. Arriving in the ER with a maxi-pad attached to my face, I was a bloody mess, quite literally. It was made even better by the fact that I worked at that particular ER department, so the “catching balls with my face” jokes were never ending. As an aside, this trend continues with by current beer league Dodgeball team. . Full link in bio

Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light ~ Brené Brown . A big part of embracing my vulnerabilities, for me, is showing up as my authentic self. Being authentic in my interactions and reactions. It means not morphing into someone else, or saying something because I believe that that’s what the other person wants to hear. It means not always following the crowd and not always taking the path of least resistance. It can mean standing alone, in my own truth. . Being authentic also means knowing who I am and what I think, feel, believe and subscribe to. But it also means being open to new ideas, to changing thoughts, opinions, and understanding that everything is contextual. Life is not lived in a vacuum. Decisions, thoughts, feelings, are all shaped by the context, the environment, the multitude of factors that have influence. . It also means exploring why I think, feel, believe, act and react the way that I choose to. It means getting dirty and doing the work. It means being accountable to myself and others with how I conduct myself. And understanding that kindness and care should underline all of my thoughts, words and actions. To be authentic and expose my true nature is vulnerability in action. It is brave and sometimes difficult and often raw. I don’t always show up as my best self, but I hope that I can always show up with kindness, for others, but also for myself.

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