So you call yourself 2011.

I call you "Year of Succubus."

However, it is not in vain. I have learned a lot from you, what with the changes that not only I have experienced personally, but also in the changes and adjustments that I have observed in the lives of those around me. Whether it's loss of employment, the loss of important people in our lives, loss of identity, loss of hope, loss of respect for corporate institutons (hello Occupy!), I have experienced some and observed others.

Once upon a time, I would be the very first to say that everything happens for a reason. And while I suppose I could still say it, I also realize that I would only be saying it to make myself feel better. Assuming that everything has a "reason" provides, for me, a sense that everything has its context and place. Everything has its label on the shelf for later reference and reflection.

On this side of things, I believe a more truthful statement is not so much that everything happens for a reason; but rather that things happen. And when "things" happen, the reason as to "why" or "why not" is less important than the response we give to it.

I have come to the understanding that it is in my response, my reaction, that I have discovered the most about Rachel. And it is only Rachel who can do anything about Rachel. No matter where I go, Rachel always seem to be there. No matter what mirror I look in or what reflection I see while window shopping, I am constantly reminded that I am always there with Rachel. Distractions help lift the immediacy of things, but distractions will fade away soon enough. And what am I stuck with?

Rachel.

Fortunately, as 2011 comes to a close, I no longer feel "stuck" with myself. After a series of hard lessons, brutal honesty and an ongoing awareness that I have tremendous room to grow, I have actually begun to be "okay" with me. I have felt some scarey things this year... things that I didn't know I was capable of feeling. Things that I knew I could not ignore or else I would rot from the inside out. I gave myself permission to feel and be human. I gave myself permission to address all of the junk in my proverbial trunk... to yell and kick and scream within the safe confines of my own santuary. I have learned to breath and focus and shake off the cancer of worry and anxiety over situations that haven't even happened. I have learned to be present, to be in the moment, and manifest a sense of peace and calm in a way that allows me to fully participate in the life around me.

I am more aware of the interactions with others. I am aware of boundaries and responsibility for my own actions as opposed to absorbing the daggers of another. I have learned that is it possible to be free from the muck and myre of self-loathing and the vague sense of always being "less-than." I have come to terms with the cliche that the truth shall set you free. And this truth begins with my own relationship to myself.

I have learned to be Rachel with all of her quirks and mannerisms and talents. I have learned that I am passionate about many things and a natural optimist. I have learned to be aware of myself... to find my voice... and to find a balance that begins with me.

It is precisely this balance that I choose to use as my surfboard on the wave into 2012. I wish to shake off the dust of 2011, to wash myself clean of the grudges and the heartaches, and surf on into the wild blue yonder.

I hope you will join me.

Sick Day Revisited

Allow me to take just a few minutes from staring at my computer regarding work-related stuff and continue staring at my computer to address what some may call a "felicitious" endeavor of blogging. Either way, I'm staring at the computer screen with a medicine-induced glaze of zombie-esque decorum. Tissue anyone?

Ignoring the plague-filled year of 2008 (flu, strep, shingles and cysts - oh my), I rarely use time off from work due to "sickness". Especially now that I have a job that I love, coworkers that I enjoy and a certain rapport and reputation that I prefer to maintain with my PT's and colleagues... or maybe it's ego... I just don't want to slow down and "get behind" in progress. I pride myself on my organization and administrative skills. And I've been healthier all around. But once in a while, the "bug" gets me and I am forced to take my own respite, hunker down, and take a little compassion on myself.

I don't know about you, but when I think of staying home sick, I picture cat naps, cozy blankets, mindless movies and lots of fluids. I imagine soft angelic light surrounding me with the gentle nudgings of "shhh... relax... all is well... get some rest" all about my person. And it's true for the first couple hours.
It has been my experience, as of late, that once the clock hits 3pm or so, I start to feel less than okay and more antcy. I start to feel increasingly sad and bored. Then I start to think of all the work that I COULD be doing:
Should I go ahead and check my voice mails? I'm sure I have atleast 30 new ones just waiting to be heard.

What is this going to mean for my work out routine? I'm going to get fat! I can't get fat... I've worked so hard!!
And the dogs are driving me nuts. They haven't gotten their walk today.
The trash needs to be taken out. Ugh, I don't feel like taking it out.
I wish my mom were here... so she could baby me. Rachel shut up, your 32.
Is it time to take my antibiotic yet?
Where's my juice? Damn, it's empty.
I'm so bored, I wish I had someone to talk to. I'm lonely. Where are all my friends? Why don't they care?? They're working Rachel. Get over yourself.
I should try to sleep.
Toss.
Turn.
Sigh.
Toss.
Where's my book? Meh, not interested.
This blanket is NOT cozy. It just gets tangled up.
I should really think about getting Christmas presents. I'm broke. Which is why I should be WORKING!
Where's my work phone? Yep 30 voice mails.
Oh I can't get off the couch. Where's the remote? Judge Judy... great distraction. But she's so mean!!
I want my mom.
My nose hurts.

It's now 5:30pm. Melissa brings me some chicken soup and brief encouragement via conversation. She can't stay. Oh but I want her to hang out with me. :( Rachel you're sick. She has things to do. Take the Benadryl she gave you. Be grateful for the visit. Swallow it down.

It's 7pm. My head feels very heavy. I can't keep my eyes open. YES. This is what I've been longing for all day.
Make my way upstairs.
Did I feed the dogs?
Crawl in the bed, set the alarm.
Did I turn the fan on?
Oh Rachel just shut up and rela.....

The end.

Mighty Malts Malted Milk Balls

It was a cold winter's afternoon in 2003. Buies Creek, North Carolina... an abundance of cotton fields and brick pathways. Tucked ever so sweetly in Reardon apartment 22 D, sat two budding artists, just busting at the seams with creative energy and skill. Too much cabin fever mixed with a plethora of Dr. Perky lead these two brilliantly bored minds into a spiral of creative genius. For, within their sacred pantry of processed goods, there sat a towering box of the sweet confectionery known as the Might Malts Malted Milk Balls. Taken aback by this amazing find, the two artists were destined to create the following tribute, played to the tune of Stephen Lynch's "Lullaby". I hope this doesn't hurt you as much as it hurt them.

My tummy is growling,
And I want something to eat.
My mind says be healthy,
But my head says eat something sweet.

Why can't I have you to myself, today?
I gaze at your lily white box, and say....

CHORUS:
You are my Mighty Malts Malted Milk Balls.
And you'll never fail me when my sweet tooth calls.
Bon-bons and ho-hoes and ding dongs
No they aren't for me;
Cuz you're a bonus pack and ten percent free.

I open the carton
And see to my delight
The little chocolate candies
That comfort in the night.

Why can I have just one serving of ten?
I would like more to eat my friend.

(Chorus)

(collaboration by Erin Tucker and Rachel E. Luck)