May 9

A seemingly random ordinary day, however this solitary day holds a whirlwind of symbolism for me, my MayDay.

I will hold this day sacred, thus the details are held sacred as well. Even without sharing this sacredness, I can share the sentiments.

At 52, there are miles and miles of memories; some good, some quite honestly, fucking suck. MayDay holds them both.

Many of my childhood memories are fragmented and splintered. Childhood trauma that swims into adult trauma with a paddle board of PTSD, and the Soul learns to protect itself by shutting down certain memories. While frustrating, I consider it a gift.

There are amazing gifts that the soul provides, even if the logical mind retailiates against them.

While on a work trip to NY, I was told, in an delightfully yet incredibly crude delivery, that I was an “emotional tampon”. Any energy that flows past me, I absorb. My friend and colleague, tossed their head back and cackled, exclaiming “I have never heard a more accurate description of her”. WTF Dude, seriously!? As put-off as I was in that moment, I whole-heartedly agree.

Decades after that NY Revelation, I have made the investment to the explore the depth of this truth. I AM an emotional tampon, aka an Empath. I can feel the anguish of another soul, merely by sharing space with them. Good or bad. It goes beyond a sixth sense, it takes up residency in me. I am still a work in progress as to the shaking off or shedding of their energy, but it is a gift I don’t want to be wholly rid of.

I hurt with you. I rejoice with you. I feel that shady-ass-sideways-glance of the super creep, deep within me. Like physically, bone weary depth. I trust that. Now. A childhood of trust and broken boundaries still haunts me, but I now lean in to that vibration in my gut. Trust it.

Circling back to The MayDay, the cacophony of vibrations that fill a single day.

On any single day…

You might be in a desert place of emotion, please trust there will always be a refuge on the horizon.

Conversely, while on the mountaintop, you can assuredly see the valley that awaits your descent.

While in a circle of people, you can almost count on a Judas in your midst. Take heart, the greatest story in Christianity hinges on Judas.

While betrayal cuts deep, it is necessary to bring about new birth.

I’ve been the Judas, I’ve also been the BirthMother.

My MayDay honors all the facets of my Soul. It’s where my story sings the loudest, it’s where my heart hurts the deepest.

It’s the MayDay of my childhood with a handmade newspaper cone of handpicked violets on my doorstep – it’s the adult MayDay distress call made to anyone listening.

MayDay. MayDay.

A Five Second Prayer

I recently attended the (2nd) book launch for my pal, Tom Zuba. It was so horribly out of my comfort zone, to walk into an event by myself, but I did. I didn’t know a soul (besides Tom) and sent up the smallest of pop-up prayers and text my hubby that ‘I won’t be long, I don’t know anyone’.

A kind man, with a delightful British accent, approached and introduced himself and began to ask about how I knew Tom. I explained, a mutual friend connected us to help mentor me and be the kick-in-the-pants I needed during my book writing process. Accordingly, the conversation shifted to my book. I have forgotten my “elevator pitch” about Faith, Fat and Other F-Words. I hadn’t forgotten “f-words” but I have neglected it and it’s purpose. I thanked the chap as Tom approached and led me to a table of ”cool people”.

A table with a couple of chicks that were cool indeed. The conversation came easy. The connection made. Smiles aplenty. The conversation again came around to my book. Starting to remember the “baby” I birthed and speak with a bit more passion. A couple of photos with the cool chicks later, I thanked them and set off towards towards the one other human I recognize.

As I’m walking the 15 steps toward my friend, the Kind Brit’s wife approaches me and introduces herself. She’s stunning and articulate and I feel a little small. AGAIN, the conversation shifts to my book and the prospect of a second book. She cheered, “brilliant”! We spoke more and more about being a 50 year old, the life of a mom, and being a chick in general. I’m breathing deep and with a bit more confidence.

I eventually make my way to my friend and hug her ferociously. We chat briefly and walk out of the event together. As we are walking, a kind faced woman approached and asked if I was Annisa. I have a familiarity while looking at her, but cannot discern from where. As she hugs me, she whispers her name in my ear. She was my counselor during some really dark times. Her face shone bright and I am instantly at ease. I had such trauma and darkness in the season I spent with her, I had zero recall of her face. She spoke beautiful things over me and filled my soul.

As I’m walking out to the car, with my friend, I could practically skip I’m so filled with peace and joy. I hug her goodbye and promise to be in touch. It’s only when I get in my car do I realize what has just happened…

That little pop-up prayer was answered, but in His way. It may have been really easy to miss since it wasn’t the solution I asked for, not in the slightest. Many times when we ask Him for a solution, He sends people.

People who will feed your soul.

People who will speak kindness.

People who will cheer for you.

People who will remind you how far you’ve come.

Look around you, realize that the people around you are there for a reason.

They may be only there for a season.

They may be the solution.

They may be the lesson. (Ugh)

They may be the hand that leads you to your next step.

They just may remind you of your purpose.

Thank you God for not giving me what I asked for, but for giving me what I needed.

I’ve Been Slimed

 

The day after (the election) feels as though I’m in the  sequel to Ghostbusters. For those of you who are not familiar with Ghostbusters 2, allow me a moment to share the CliffNotes version of the storyline…

The ‘Ghostbsters’ find themselves bankrupt after a heap of lawsuits. Lawsuits that came about AFTER the citizens were spared from some big evil marshmallow dude. NYC  officials extend a restraining order so that no more ‘damage’ can happen to their city.

However, problems arise, as they always do, and the Ghostbusters are needed again. The people who cried out for their heads now need their help, [again]. It seems as though some evil is flowing through the veins of the community, infiltrating every crevice of life.

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It is discovered that it is indeed  flowing through the veins of the city. A pink ‘mood” slime is flowing and bubbling beneath NYC. A slime that feeds on negative emotions and anger. As fear and craziness ensues, the slime thrives…

Looking around social media today, I can’t help but feel slimed. Fear and panic, ugliness and broad sweeping beliefs that the sky is falling.  The vacant faces of news correspondents wondering how the heck we got here. Yes, the world has changed overnight. Finger pointing and hatred gets us nowhere.

I’m not one to give in to the panic, at least not today. I’m not sure if it’s having grown up in a politics loving family or the fact I’ve survived so much in my life that I refuse to give one faction that much control. I refuse to give in to knee-jerk reactions, fear and hateful speech.

I may be just one person, but I’m not going give another ‘one person’ that much power. [Unless it’s Jesus himself] I will not bury my head in the sand and hide. I won’t protect myself from impending doom and worry about ‘me’. As in the Ghostbusters movie, good vibes and unity can change the charge of the slime.

Hope is alive. Hope is universal. Hope is unifying. Maybe it’s a cheesy sing-along-song to unite us or maybe it’s the unity found in the  beloved Cubbies winning their first World Series in 108 years. 108 years y’all!!! For 107 years, the mantra has been “maybe next year”. This was the year!!!! But seven days later, the world is going to end.

I’m going to do my part to make a positive stamp on this life. We win, friends. The light always wins. A little flicker of a flame cancels out darkness. Always!

So here’s my a little ditty to get us connected….Love…Love keeps lifting me…