Ask and ye shall Receive

Posted on October 20, 2018October 20, 2018 by laurencarawan

“My nose is running.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m cold.”

“I can’t open this.”

A helpless victim.

“May I have a tissue, please?”

“May I have a snack, please?

“Mom, can you pass me a blanket?”

“Will you help me open this?

An assertive problem-solver.

For the past few months, I’ve been working with my second daughter on asking for what she needs, rather than stating the problem aloud with the hopes that someone will hear and fix the issue for her.

I’m lucky to raise my daughters during a time when women are encouraged to use their voice. If I don’t teach them early to speak up for what they need, how can I expect them to innately learn this later?

“I wish I got paid more.” becomes “Boss, here are the reasons I deserve a raise.”

“I wish my spouse paid more attention to me.” becomes “We need to talk.”

“I don’t know how to ______ (change a tire, write a resume, etc.) becomes “Will you teach me?”

“I wish I had more time for ____.” becomes “If it’s important enough, I will find a way.”

And oh, will she ever.

Happy 5th Birthday Harper Reese.

Grace

Posted on October 10, 2018October 10, 2018 by laurencarawan

This is my word of the moment: Grace.

I am currently treading water during one of the most exhausting times of my life (so far) and when I reached my limit last week, I realized something had to give.

Since passing off the kids wasn’t an option, I considered what else I could shed. And it was there that I found it had nothing to do with what I needed to surrender and everything to do with what I needed to give myself: grace.

In the past 7 years, I have gained and lost 35 pounds FOUR times.

I have carried and nursed four babies for more than 75 months.

I am currently parenting a 5 month, 2, 4 and 6 year-old, while sorting all of that laundry, making meals, potty-training, attending doctor’s appointments, playing taxi for piano, soccer, music class and ballet, exercising, maintaining friendships and working to keep my marriage healthy and strong.

I keep adding more and more and expecting myself to continue keeping on as if nothing has changed.

What was I thinking?

Eventually, something has to give. If not my sanity, then my expectations of myself.

I step outside of this time and look at my life as a whole, recognizing this as one of the most challenging phases.

I pat myself on the back for the monumental accomplishment of growing, birthing and rearing four children.

I congratulate myself for partnering with an involved and fantastic husband and father.

I hug myself as I would a friend enduring a tough time and say,

“You are awesome.”

Don’t ever forget that.

You are amazing.

Grace.

Wanderlust

Posted on September 19, 2018September 19, 2018 by laurencarawan

I was so thirsty. So tired I cried as I trekked through the hot sand that seemed nothing less than an insult at the time. We’d hiked nine miles into the Canyon and had just one mile to go but it felt like another 10.

Worse yet, I could actually *hear* the water. Taunting and teasing me. Letting me know it was right there, just out of reach.

I sobbed and stumbled. He grabbed my hand and walked alongside me, pulling me to the finish line. I was tired. I was done. I didn’t want to do this anymore. But there was no other way than forward and he was right there with me.

So along we trudged, until we caught sight of this. In the desert. In an instant, our skin was saturated with moist air. Our eyes delighted with sight and our ears blaring with the roar of Mother Nature in her rawest beauty.

We’d known it was there all along and yet it still came as a glorious surprise.

Much like life, I suppose.

Trudging, trekking, hoping, waiting, discovering. journeying.

To the finish line.

Havasu Grand Canyon 2007

Rising

Posted on September 7, 2018September 7, 2018 by laurencarawan

Drowning. Funneling. Spiraling out of control. Down the tubes I go.

This is something that happens to other people, not me.

I’m highly self-aware. I go to counseling. I write about my feelings. I am immune.

Or am I?

How far down must we go before we reach out for help?

I hit my lowest point a few weeks ago, when at 1 AM, I looked out to the water and wondered what would happen if I just slipped in quietly, and disappeared.

It’s hard to admit, even harder to type, but that thought went through my sleep-deprived brain. Followed immediately by the remaining tiny fragments of my healthy mind reminding me that by doing so, I was only transferring my hurt and pain to my loved ones.

So instead, I wrote. I typed out my deep, dark thoughts on a sticky note in my phone as I entered the fifth hour of non-existent sleep and waited for morning to come and save me.

How far must we go before we set aside our pride and shame and liberate ourselves by calling it what it is?

I’ve suffered in silence but now, I am reaching out. Recognizing I cannot do this alone. Holding the hands of others who suffer and holding onto those who lift me up as I sink.

Making it through breakfast. Making it to lunch. Making it to dinner. Through bedtime. Until Midnight. Repeating until I rise again, from my bed, from this darkness. Reclaiming my stride, my identity and my purpose as a writer, wife and mother.

I Rise. I Rise. I Rise.