*Jazz Hands* Mom

I hate the word Can’t. Seriously, I hate it SO MUCH. We (usually) use the word “can’t” as an excuse. I know I sure used to.

I was diagnosed with Lyme Disease at 23 years old. That’s when the can’ts *really* began.

“You can’t exercise.” <—–Oh no…I have to be sedentary? Shucks.

“You can’t have the energy to be social very often.” <insert introvert not actually sad face>

“You can’t have the memory you used to.” What? You told me who? When? Why? Sorry…I forget.

The can’ts were many. And I relished them because they excused things I didn’t really want to do anyway.

But…then one day I suddenly wanted to do something different. I wanted to LIVE instead of just existing.

I decided to start by getting in shape. The doctor said, “You can’t. Just be happy you’re cute for a fat girl.”

Ummmmmm…no….

So I started eating right. “That’s great, you’ll lose a little, but you’ll never be able to exercise.”

I started walking. “Ok. Walking is good, but you’ll never be able to do strength training.”

I started lifting weights. “Just be careful, your body can’t do that.”

I started running obstacle course races. “Ok…we give up.”

Thank you very much. Please DO give up on telling me what I can’t do.

I became the girl that no one wanted to say “Can’t” to because that just made me want it more. I had, “I will because they said I can’t” tattooed on my ribs.

You tell me “CAN’T”…and I will say, “WATCH ME.”

So, yesterday, after I saw the cardiologist and he diagnosed me…I joined a couple of POTS groups on Facebook. I wanted to see what I was in for. I wanted to get information. If this is something I’m going to live with and fight…I want to know.

Or maybe I don’t…

Because…what I saw in these groups were tens of thousands of people who were still living gloriously in their “can’t”. I saw people who said, “Oh I know this is from my POTS…does this make you all miserable, too?” <insert hundreds of comments of people commiserating> “I know I can’t do this because of POTS.” <insert a thousand comments of people agreeing that it’s impossible>

What I didn’t see…was ideas on how to fight it. All I saw was people succumbing. What I saw was people who decided that their diagnosis was their identity.

MY DIAGNOSES (yes, that’s the plural, I checked…lol) ARE NOT MY IDENTITY.

Don’t get me wrong…I understand and have compassion for the fact that everyone has different levels of disability with their illnesses. There are some things that, maybe realistically, can’t be done.

But one thing that I can guarantee you no illness will EVER take away from you without your participation, is your hope.

So…I left those groups already.

Because, please…tell me I can’t.

And I will tell you, “I literally CAN even”.

I have always been a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. It is a comfort to me to know that all of the deep valleys in life have also brought me to my highest peaks.

And yet…we always forget that in the moment as we are trapped in circumstances.

I was reminded LOUDLY of that today.

I’ve been…let’s be real…pissed off and a total bitch…lately because I couldn’t run. My leg had basically tried to shatter and I’ve been sidelined for 10 weeks so far.

I didn’t handle it well. I kept my faith…and I knew that there had to be a reason…

But I was still pretty pissed off about it.

And then…today…God very loudly told me why that had to happen.

Today I learned that I have a condition called POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). Basically my heart beats too dang fast, with sudden dips, but my blood pressure stays low. Put the two together…and you get dizzy spells, palpations, tachycardia, headaches…all kinds of stuff. Lyme Disease…which I’ve had for 20 years…is a well known cause of POTS.

Here’s the kicker…

My running and exercising was masking it. Both are good for me and my condition and I need to keep them up because it keeps the condition in check…but…

Had I not been sidelined from running…I wouldn’t have known I have this condition. And that would have been very, very bad.

So…A’ight, God. I hear you. I understand the reason. (And you didn’t even make me wait as long as usual for it.)

Now…my leg will finish healing…my condition will be treated (it’s chronic, but manageable)…and I can go forward with life and the things I love, but better than I was before.

And hopefully I’ll stop being such a little bitch when I feel like my plans are being thwarted. (But…probably not…I’m human… 🤷‍♀️ )

Yesterday I stopped being a bitch.

You think I’m joking, but I’m not. I’ve been a fairly raging bitch since the end of last year.

Why? Because it felt like everything was suddenly spiraling out of control. One thing after another after another after…well, you get it.

One of my greatest fears is the loss of control over my own life.

I know why I have this fear. I earned this fear. When your whole life, even your name, is ripped away from you at 10 years old…you either crumble or you become a person who finds ways to make sure no one can rip the rug out on them again. I did the latter.

But, yesterday…when I got a little more control back on one of the issues I’ve been facing…it was this weight off of me. I suddenly felt the ability to…well…stop being a bitch. Something so stupid as getting a walking boot off…

But it was a sign that I wasn’t losing control.

Which, got me thinking. You guys…

I have more issues than a magazine stand. We all do.

And, for many of us, our issues lead to fear…usually logical fear based on our lives…but fears that completely hold us back and control us.

My fears are loss of control, being abandoned by people I love and trust, and that I’m unlovable. I’m afraid I’ll disappear and no one will notice or care. Every single one of these fears is tied to my childhood. Every single one of these fears is logical based on my own experiences.

Every single one of these fears is holding me back.

By being afraid of losing everything, I lose the ability to enjoy what I have. By fearing abandonment, I hurt myself by waiting for it. By being afraid I can’t be loved, I sometimes don’t give people the chance to prove me wrong. By being afraid to disappear, I fight a constant battle between wanting to disappear and being too in your face so I’ll be seen.

But if life has taught me one thing besides what to fear, it has taught me…

I am stronger than my fears.

I don’t want to be held back by these fears anymore. I don’t want to cower before what might come to be. Could it all happen again? Yep. That’s life. But will I survive it? Yes. I only need to remember…

I know I can survive my fears coming to fruition because I already have.

So. What are you afraid of? How is it holding you back?

Are you ready to be stronger than your fears?

Hi, my name is Sheri…and I’m “Way too excited about my new toilets” years old.

*sigh* When did this happen??

This morning, as I sat there excitedly looking at my beautiful brand new toilets that one of my best friends and her husband installed yesterday…as I sat there thinking, “None of them are broken or leaking!! They’re all so clean!! Look at those top buttons!! No more broken flushing handles for us!!”…it hit me. Holy shit. I’m an adult.

Don’t get me wrong. Like most of you I don’t FEEL like an adult.

I still don’t want to clean my room. I still make boob jokes like a 12 year old boy (*cough* I may actually be giggling before the 12 year old boy…). I still have days where I want ice cream for dinner. And…I have to admit this…

Sometimes I still relish people telling me how to do things better, because I have no flipping IDEA how to successfully navigate some of this grownup stuff.

And, yet…it snuck up on me.

I used to get excited about going to the bar with my friends. Now I get excited about eating nachos alone in bed to unwind from a long week.

I used to get excited about traveling everywhere I could! Now…hold on…let me check mine and Bella’s schedule. Maybe that Saturday…no…tax season…how about Sunday 4 weeks from now?

I used to think parents knew nothing…now I find myself yelling, “Because I’m the parent! That’s why!!” at my teenager way more than I’m comfortable with.

I’m “Yay!!! Someone else cleans my trash can!!” years old.

I’m “I wonder if I can just get the groceries delivered this time” years old.

I’m, “I need to be up at 3 am to get everything done” years old.

BUT…because I still fully believe that you are only as old as you let yourself be…

I’m also “Forget chores today! We’re going on an adventure!” years old.

I’m also “Let’s go get our pictures taken with Santa!” years old.

I’m “Oooh!! I wonder if I can talk my friends into an animal onesie party for my birthday!” years old. (Spoiler alert. I can. 😁)

I will always be “That’s what she said” years old.

But…I am also still “Way too excited about my new toilets” years old.

So…how old are you?

I’ve been thinking about broken hearts.

First things first, let’s be real…we’ve all had our hearts broken and we’ve all probably broken someone’s heart. It’s just part of life.

And man does it hurt when it happens.

BUT, as I’m pondering this today, I have a new view on broken hearts and their pain. What if…hear me out…

The part that broke NEEDED to break?

I think back on my broken hearts. I’ve had a few. I’ve had my heart broken so badly I thought it would destroy me. And you know what?

It DID destroy me. It destroyed a part of me that needed to be destroyed.

When I look back on my broken hearts…it still hurts…but…it’s not the guy that makes my heart twinge and ache. It’s looking at who I was in that relationship and what I allowed.

In my marriage I was easily manipulated into feeling guilty and being quiet for being upset about valid issues. That relationship very much broke my heart…and it broke the part of me who was too afraid to speak up and would rather be hurt myself than risk someone being upset with me. Seriously? Thank God that part of me broke.

In another relationship I was SHATTERED after years of emotional abuse and then finding out I’d been cheated on the whole time. I had known the entire time that something was wrong…but I was consistently told I was crazy…and, when I wasn’t? Heart broken. I thought beyond repair. It also broke the part of me that was willing to ignore my own instincts and allow someone to emotionally abuse me. Again…that trait being broken? Bye, Felicia.

Another man I loved…he was different than those guys. He would never purposely hurt me. But he also didn’t know what he wanted, vacillated on his feelings for me, and…in all honesty…because of where he was in his own life…could not give me the relationship I deserved. But I settled for the scraps he gave me, because I loved him. And I spent every day feeling torn apart because I wasn’t being true to myself and what I needed. The ending of that one broke my heart, too…but it also broke my willingness to put aside my own needs and wants.

When I look back on these relationships…it hurts. But it doesn’t hurt because I’m dying to have them back. It doesn’t hurt because I still pine for them.

It hurts because it reminds me of those parts of me before they were broken. It reminds me of how much damage I did to myself while those parts were still intact.

So…that’s my new theory. A heartbreak is something to be grateful for. Not in the way that that means you should be with those people again! Lol But…

Those broken moments are what built me.

So…to my past relationships…thank you for breaking my heart.

The perfect date. We all have one (hopefully). That date you look back on and think, “Why can’t they all be like that?”. Maybe it was a beautiful restaurant…dressing up and being treated like royalty.

Orrrr…maybe you’re like me and it involved a giant cow. 🤷‍♀️

Many many (…MANY…) years ago, a fresh, innocent (stop laughing!! I can be innocent!!) young 21 year old Sheri went on her first solo business trip…to Omaha, NE. This particular trip, other than being a milestone for her, wasn’t exactly a big deal….I mean…Omaha…what is there to do?

WELL. LET ME TELL YOU!

First, the regional manager and branch managers asked our young heroine what she had expected of Omaha. “Corn. I expected a lot of corn.” So…those managers drove me out of Omaha…to see a large corn field…so I could say I had…and cautioned me to NOT run through it (as I had seen in movies) unless I wanted to be cut to shreds.

That was it. I’d been to Omaha. I had seen all that it had to offer. Until…

We got back to the local office, still laughing about our corn adventure, and…I met a boy.  I wouldn’t have normally thought much of this boy because I was there for business, but…21 year old version of me was intrigued by the conversation that happened…

“Hey…would you want to go out with me?” *confused Sheri face* “You live in Nebraska…” “And? You’re IN Nebraska. I’ll take you out on the river on my boat and we can moon people eating at the restaurant.”

HOLD UP. YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION.

That was the day I met Niall. Niall was…this amazing, hilarious, boy version of me. I instantly decided he was going to be my best friend. We both liked each other as more, but that whole distance thing…

So. Every time I traveled to Omaha, or he traveled to New Jersey, we would hang out. It was never a date…until one night it was.

I was back in Omaha and Niall asked me out. He made it clear THIS ONE was a date. *sigh* OK. Dates suck and typically take all of the spontaneity out of life, but fine.

“What are we going to do?” “Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you at the hotel.” Ok….

What followed was the gold standard of dates that I have held every date up to in comparison for the past 20 years.

See, Niall knew that I wasn’t a dinner and a movies kind of girl. He knew that from the moment he heard about the corn field and asked me to go moon people from the river. Niall knew his audience and he…dare I say it…nialled it. (Damn, I wish I could tell him THAT little pun I just came up with. 🤣🤣)

First he took me to the bar. Big deal, right? So many dates in our early 20s wound up in bars. But…no…this wasn’t just a bar…it was THE bar. It was the seediest, run down, basement of a motel, 70s style rug still intact, bar that you ever have seen. It was barflies and truck drivers and…a scene straight out of every, “Oh this won’t end well” movie you’ve ever seen. We sat there for HOURS…making friends with the locals…with the longhaul truck drivers…potentially with hookers…IT WAS AMAZING.

Then…at around 1 am…we decided we were a bit peckish. Lol We sat at Denny’s for another couple of hours. Talking and laughing like only Niall and I could. Until he looked me dead in the eye and said, “Wanna go climb a cow?” “Ummmmmm…is that even a question?!?!?”

So he took me to this monstrous cow statue that was gated off in a parking lot nearby…and he kept watch, like Bonnie’s perfect Clyde, while I ran around it and tried to find a way to climb up it. It was slippery and impossible to climb, but holy hell we laughed while I tried.

That was it. That was my perfect date. The date where someone knew me well enough to know that the way to my heart is adventure and laughs and the unexpected.

Niall and I stayed in touch for a very long time, even after I got married and he met his person. He was the first guy to call me his, “What if? Girl”…and the only one that it doesn’t piss me off when I think of it. But, time moves on and so do our lives…and apparently so does that cow. Years later Niall told me that the cow had been moved to the rooftop of a local place.

Over the years, I’ve looked for that again.

The poor guy who wanted to walk to some local ruins to “look” at them after a lunch date. Sooo…I made him walk through a Civil War cemetery reading tombstones on the way and then asked him to take cover while I climbed the fence at the ruins so I could get closer and take pictures. The look on his face… 🤣🤣 We’re still friends, but that was our only date. 🤣🤣

The various guys who have said, “What do you want to do for our first date?” “Hmmmmmm…I have a camera…wanna go wander around Walmart and be undercover People of Walmart photographers?” (No one has taken me up on that yet…I’ll probably marry the guy who knows I’m not actually trying to be cute…)

It seems silly, but…that moment stands out because someone liked me for EXACTLY who I was and wouldn’t have wanted me to change a thing about me…quirkiness and all.

And that’s what I’m waiting for.

I’m waiting to find a cow to climb.

(I also just emailed Niall, because hell it’s been 2 years since we talked!!! Not cool, Niall, not cool!!)

I cried today. I don’t do that very often. I DESPISE crying. I think it was good for me this time though.

Sometimes tears are cleansing and wash away what’s blocking our vision.

What was blocking my vision, as it has many times, was how the world/certain people see me.

It’s so, so very easy to see ourselves as others make us feel.

How often do we feel that we are worthless because someone didn’t treat us as though we were valuable? How often do we feel ugly because someone didn’t see our beauty? How often do we feel unlovable because someone couldn’t find room for us in their hearts?

We hear these messages…whether they are delivered with intent or recklessly…and we internalize them. “This person sees me as this…and they obviously see me more clearly than I see myself…so that must be what/all I am.”

But that’s not how HE sees me. How does He see me?

You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you. ~ Song of Solomon 4:7

God doesn’t make mistakes. God created me as I am because that was who He wanted me to be. He could never see me as worthless, because He put me here with purpose. He sees me as beautiful because I look as He made me. He sees me as wise because I speak the words He inspires in me. He sees me as loveable because He loves me unconditionally and eternally.

I want to see myself through His eyes.

I want to try every day to remind myself who’s voice I should be hearing in my mind. It is not the voices that tear me down that should be on repeat. It is the voice of the one who will always lift me up.

When someone makes me doubt my worth or my purpose, I want to immediately know…”You may believe that but He doesn’t make mistakes. I have worth. I am beautiful. I am loveable. I am loved.”

And then…because I am nothing if not the picture of grace and maturity that He made me…I’ll only stick my tongue out at them on the inside…or maybe behind my hand…depends on my mood.

But I’m glad I cried today.

A couple of months ago I never would have thought I’d say these words, but…

I love Thursday mornings.

I’ll start this by saying, I have a long standing belief that people need to know when they’ve impacted you. Whether we like to admit it or not…we all want to know that we’re seen…and that we’re appreciated. So…with the end in mind…

This time of year I have a fairly strict schedule in order to get things done. Between being a single mom, an accountant with a 60-65 billable hour requirement during tax season, loving to work out, and being a full time student…plus, add in this year, a home remodel…I don’t have a lot of extra time in the day.

So…this time of year…Get up between 3 and 3:30 am. If I’m not working out, I’m in the office by 4:30 at the latest. Study and do homework until between 6 or 7 depending on the schoolwork I have and the client work I have. Work until between 5 and 8 pm (again depending on workload), unless I have school from 6-9:15….or Bella has appointments….or….or…or…..yeah, February – April are my sleepy months. lol

But I make it work. (And this is the last year I’ll have to make the school part work.)

But, this year…my Thursday schedule got thrown for a loop. For reasons beyond my control, I can’t be at work on Thursdays until one of my bosses gets there. That’s usually 7…some days it’s around 8:30. He always lets me know so the day before so there won’t be any slipups.

This immediately means I’ve lost between 2.5 and 4 hours of productivity because, honestly, I don’t study well at home. There’s too much to clean. lol Unfortunately, not many places are open that early in the morning…so I started a new tradition.

Thursday mornings with Tetresa

Who’s Tetresa? Tetresa is the amazing woman at Goldberg’s that makes my Thursday mornings something that I look forward to.

It started about a month ago. It was the first Thursday where the boss wouldn’t be in until 8:30 and I needed to go SOMEWHERE. So, I decided to try out the Goldberg’s near my work.

The poor waitress (Tetresa)….some people are just awful…and those people tend to take it out on waitstaff more often than not. And she just looked frazzled and stressed and you could tell people hadn’t been very nice.

But Tetresa still came over with a smile…she took my order and I asked her if it would be ok if I stayed for a couple of hours. She said it was more than ok and she checked back on me many times to see how I was. Truly, she was a gem even in her stress. I always try to tip well, but between the morning I could tell she was having, the service, and the fact that I’d stolen her table for so long….I left her a tip about the size of my check. lol

The next Thursday I figured, “Hey….I might as well go back to Goldberg’s even if it’s only for an hour.” I walked in and she greeted me at the door. “By the way, I’m Tetresa.” “Hi, Tetresa, I’m Sheri!” I sat down and she came to bring me a cup of coffee. When I laughed and exclaimed, “Nooooooooooooo!!! I’m allergic to coffee!!” “Oh that’s right! You drink tea!” She brought me my tea right out and we both set to our own work.

Then last week…I come in…right when they open at 6 am…she asks if she’s right that I like green tea. I tell her yes and ask for Splenda. She smiles big and brings me my breakfast and, again, we set about to our work. But, I made a decision that morning.

Because of the aforementioned belief that people need to KNOW when they impact you and they need to KNOW that they are seen and appreciated, I left Tetresa a note with her tip.

I told her that I believe in letting people know when they’ve really impacted someone in a positive way. I told her in short how my Thursdays had gotten a bit messed up…I told her how I’d been dreading an entire tax season of trying to make this work…and then I told her how SHE had given me something to look forward to on Thursdays. I thanked her just for being her and for giving me something to smile about on Thursday mornings.

This morning I came in. I sat down and…without skipping a beat…Tetresa brought me my green tea and a plate of Splenda packs. “Did I get it right??” “You did!! Thank you!!” And now we go about our work…coexisting…both feeling a little better about the world we live in this morning.

And that’s the kind of thing that makes me smile on a random Thursday morning that looks the same to everyone else in this world.

So today I challenge you…whomever it is that gives you a reason to believe in the world and gives you a reason to smile for even a second…whether you know them or not…thank them and let them know what they’ve done for you. It may be the only kindness they see that day.

*/silly Hippie Sheri moment

*jazz hands*

This one is for me.

I lie here remembering my faith and my trust. I remind myself again that God has never let me completely fall. And I pray that I can stay strong in the face of no answers.

I saw the cardiologist. He said something is definitely not right. He isn’t worried about blockages because of my age and fitness level, but…as I was afraid…his first concern was, “You do know Lyme can damage the heart, right?” Yup…I know. He says there’s a very good chance it’s NOT that, though, and he promises that we will find the answers. I liked him more than most doctors. He listens and you can tell he cares. I believe him.

But I also left there with a heart monitor strapped to me for the next 7 days so they can track what my heart does. So, that’s kind of scary. (And borderline hilarious because I finally agreed to go on a date with someone this weekend…and I’m NOT going on a date with a heart monitor, so…I hear you, God. Loud and clear. Lol)

But…scarier than the heart monitor is my family. My father is scared. We both make jokes, because that’s what we do, but he’s scared. To the point that when I asked him to make sure Bella is taken care of, he didn’t call me dramatic. He just promised she’ll be ok. I called my brother…reminded him that he’s in charge of doling life insurance out to Bella…he didn’t yell at me for being stupid…he just said ok.

Odds are I’m going to be FINE and this is nothing more than a blip…but there is something truly terrifying about those two men not telling me I’m being a drama queen. Lol

Anyway, God has this covered. His plan is what it is, and He has put the right doctors where they need to be.

Let go and Let God, right?

But I think he’ll understand if I still cry a little and desperately wish for a real hug.

Disclaimer: My teenager said if I ever wrote about her she’d murder me in my sleep. But…this site IS called called “Jazz Hands MOM” and she also found out she gets the life insurance as long as I don’t die by her hands…so, I’ll risk it… (P.S. She just read this disclaimer and approved it. Police, you heard that!!)

Annnnyyyywayyyy…it’s been a good morning with my Bug. First, I woke up at 2 am to her music BLASTING. So, I went in her room and asked her to turn it down. <insert teenage screaming> “GETTTT OUTTTT!!! YOU COULD HAVE TEXTED ME THAT!!!!!” Ok….

Wake up at 3:30 am…(on purpose) and her music is still going. So I text her, “Please come here.” She came right away. “Bella, I have to ask you a question…” “Ok…” “Are you on drugs?” She. Lost. It. “Hahahahahahaha No!!! I mean…I kinda wish…*giggle*… Why?!?!?!” “The screaming at me to get out of your room…” “Dude you SCARED ME!!!” 😂

An hour later. “Mom, can we get breakfast?” “We can…if you go to my workout with me after…” “I am NOT exercising.” “I know…but I can’t run, so we’ll heckle people together while they run laps.” “Deal.”

*start to car*

“Bella, I’m going to the car.” “Nooooo!!! Don’t leave me alone!!!” “Ummmmm…Bug…did we forget to cut the umbilical cord??” “You’re so annoying…*opens trash can* There’s no trash bag, I can’t throw this away.” “Sooooo…I’m annoying…but you can’t throw something away because there’s not already a bag in there…You’re never moving out, are you?” “Nope.”

*get in car* *start driving*

“Mom, I’m terrified of being a minivan person. Like…I NEVER want to get married and have kids and wind up in a minivan life.” “Did I ever do that?” “No…you’re chill, but still…that’s my biggest fear…I want to be with someone and live a life of adventure…like Bonnie and Clyde.” “Or Thelma and Louise?” “Bonnie and Clyde.” “Either way you wind up dead.” *laughs* “Fair. But I don’t want kids.” “So I won’t get grandkids?” “What part of no kids…” “Here me out…find a friend a few years younger than you without a mom…tell her you’ll be her mom…then I get to be her grandma…and you guys can draw me pictures. This life you live sounds druggy, so I’m sure the pictures will be cool.” “Deal.”

So…that’s my morning sitting across from this kiddo of mine. It’s not a traditional relationship, but it’s perfect for us. ❤

Edited to Add: Bella read this and was literally shaking with laughter. I think my life is safe. Today.