Redirection

It’s so hard not to get caught up in…things. It’s especially harder now because phones make it easier for all of us to have scrolliosis. Not only do we keep looking, we also let whatever annoys us fester. Take the phone away and we all still have moments in our lives when we get caught up in the emotions of others, things that sometimes go wrong that we don’t feel like we can fix, and just the anxiety and fear that we don’t know what’s coming or maybe where we’re going.

That’s only the short version of what we can get fixated on. And what keeps us from moving forward.

Some years ago, I was caught in a wrath of challenges in my life. I really wanted to move forward yet found it hard to and wasn’t sure how to do it. Finally, feeling exasperated that I needed to figure out some way to ease my mental anguish quickly so it didn’t keep trying to take over, I somehow came up with something that actually worked for me.

I used my rosary– something that I never actually prayed with as it’s meant to be used, instead choosing to hold it in times of need feeling it would bring me relief– and each bead represented a mantra. The one I used was:

All is well.

I would repeat this as many times as it took for me to feel relief and the ability to shift direction from the rabbit hole/viscious cycle I was in and think and do something else. The interesting part was that it only took a few beads, usually four, and then I was able to move on.

Last week I found myself looking at something and quickly getting irritated. I didn’t reach for the rosary, but instead I have spent enough time over the years developing this skill that I was able to quickly shift direction and move on from what was irritating me.

It didn’t happen overnight, but it did get easier the more I worked at it. And it’s been part of the road of helping me to keep trekking forward in my life.

Seeking Light

“There is darkness in all of us.”

What was said around that doesn’t matter because it’s all about that one statement. It was one that made me pop my head up at mass Saturday, resonating in a way that I believe represents daily life for each of us in some way.

I believe that most of life is light, it is filled with hope, inspiration, and love. But sometimes life can be dark or there can be dark aspects to it. Our world today might feel completely dark to some people. And there are people who won’t see the light no matter how hard they look (and ignoring the light inside themselves).

There are times when we feel more hopeful than others. For the most part, my life is filled with hope although I have about one day each month where I can’t feel it. Yet that doesn’t mean it’s not there; as I said, I don’t believe I can feel or see it on that one day and then the next day it comes back as if it had needed a short rest.

That’s the darkness inside of me, the darkness that I can’t stand in the early morning hours before the sun is up and everything looks distorted in darkness because shadows cause things to be misshapen.

I do believe we must have that darkness because it makes us appreciate light and it helps us grow. We don’t grow and move forward in life if everything is perfect. We need lessons and challenges to help us create a wealth of life inside us. We should acknowledge darkness inside us. The key is not getting caught there. It would be like opening the door, seeing the darkness, and saying, “Okay. I see you.” Then shutting the door and moving forward where there is light.

After all, there are many things we can say about darkness, but I always remember– it doesn’t last. Light has to come.

Seeking Hope in Loss

Last month, when I was a featured speaker for a zoom group for people who have lost a sibling to suicide, I was asked if I had been suicidal after my sister’s death. I very much understood the importance of this question– I have heard many times before how people question their own lives because a love one has taken their own. I used to say that the word “suicide” becomes part of your vocabulary in a close and personal way after you lose someone to suicide. And we do know that people who lose a loved one to suicide are at a greater risk of suicide (probably for the same reason I stated in the previous sentence).

Despite all that I’ve been through in the thirty-some years since my younger sister Denise died by suicide, I can honestly say that it had the opposite effect on me– it has made my embrace of life much stronger. And I can see now that it might have also made my embrace of color much stronger, too.

My mom always was a color person so I was raised to understand the importance of color. I remember walking through a now-defunct department store here in Albuquerque and her saying, “The color is dead in here.”

Maybe my embrace of color came from that- the way she noted the lack of color was dead. I know that Denise not being here (and I was 21 when she died- on the cusp of adulthood here and working toward my goals and dreams) has made me feel a stronger need to accomplish my goals and dreams.

The ride hasn’t been easy, no life is, especially when we want to continue to grow and make the most of the time we have here. Color and prints are part of how I do that. I find so much hope and inspiration in them. And they connect me back to the childhood I shared with Denise.

An hour here, fifteen minutes there

Cyndi Lauper taught me one of the most important lessons for my creative life.

I read once where she said that she would write songs while she was ironing. This struck me because I was learning early on that if I wanted to be a writer, I would have to insert it into the other aspects of my life, that I might not have long periods of time where I could write (as I would love to have), but shorter blocks.

I learned to plan my writing in my head (usually while swimming and maybe running although I find I have to keep my head focused on my running to keep up my pace) ahead of when I actually had time for it. This meant I didn’t sit down at the laptop and go, “What will I write today?” which would probably be an extra twenty minutes. Instead, I could jump right in, usually based on a sticky note waiting for me.

It’s been much the same with Chelle Summer. I rarely get a long day like I did this past Saturday. As Greg was with his girls soccer team up in the Four Corners of the state, there were no plans we’d made, no estate sales to distract me, and the weather was rainy and cool, not a good swim day. It felt luxurious to have all those hours.

But that’s not the usual. Today is my second day this week I have an empty calendar although tomorrow that changes for the rest of the week– and I also have packing for the Palm Springs Vintage Market this weekend ahead of me. There’s also always paperwork, things (like bills) that are messed up and need to be fixed. If only the dogs would offer to vacuum, however, that’s another story.

I have learned that to make my goals and dreams happen, I had to fill the little spaces in my life with my creativity, the same creativity that also brings me the most happiness. After all, part of making those goals and dreams come true also means figuring out the way to maximize the effort I put into them'.

Now I must go– the sewing machine is calling.

Praying for Others

For the many years (I’m not counting!) that I’ve been speaking at suicide-related events or planning them, one of the hardest parts always has been getting people to show up. I have done events where there has been no one. It’s so hard to me because I have always wanted to help people and how can I if they aren’t there to be present at an event or to hear me speak?

In the five years that we’ve done the Our Lady of Sorrows prayer service for those whose lives have been touched by suicide at my church, it’s been a challenge to get people there. Or, get more people there. I know that people are in pain and we just want to offer some bit of peace and hope.

Last night I was contemplating this as we getting ready to begin at the church. And that’s when God thought he’d send me a message.

It’s not just about the people who are in the church right now.

Those weren’t his exact words, but that was his overall message.

There are many people out there for whom showing up at an event like that might have been too painful. New Mexico is a state where the historical culture continues to foster the stigma in some way (particularly for Native American and Hispanic communities). While it might look like everyone is inclusive today, those feelings of years ago continue to exist for some people.

For others, it’s just the pain of losing a loved one. Some people don’t want to be there if they will cry or show any emotion. I always found comfort being with a group of people who had some understanding of my journey, but I understand not everyone feels that way.

And yet there are people who are trying to balance their lives– family, kids, jobs, taking care of parents– and can’t get away to take the time for themselves. They might also be afraid that getting away means they will break down and the schedule they must keep will fall apart.

While we were there to pray for those of us who were physically at the event (and our deceased loved ones), I know that there were many more people, both living and deceased, included in those prayers. What we do isn’t always about what we can see right in front of us. Sometimes we need a reminder that prayer is for those we can’t see, too.

Keeping Focused

Most of the journeys we take aren’t short. They aren’t something we can do in one day, especially the more meaningful ones, the ones that we can’t complete in a short time.

For me, my journeys– which are what I would usually think of as attempting to achieve some sort of goal– often take a longer time, definitely much longer than I would like them to.

And yet there are other things I do in my daily life that are journeys in a sense– like going out to run in the morning or going for a swim in the afternoon. Journeys within journeys.

When I go out for a run, I know that I can make it easy and just sort of lallygag along without much effort. But, unless I’m exhausted from something else, I would much prefer to make that mileage count, to physically and mentally feel like I’ve pushed myself.

The other morning I really didn’t want to push myself. I wanted to be lazy. I tried to remind myself that if I slowed down, I wouldn’t be happy when I finished. While that wouldn’t set my tone for the day, I did want to feel some sense of accomplishment as I started on the other tasks my day would entail.

If that reminder doesn’t work, I find myself having to break the run into smaller segments, shorter distances. Make it from here to the street sign or the light pole.

Life journeys can be the same. While we are excited to embark on a big journey, at some point we might feel a bit worn down and wondering if it’s worth it. It’s hard to keep focused when something looks to be so far away.

That’s when we should break it down into shorter segments- like I sometimes do for my run. We don’t need to be overwhelmed. Take a deep breath and think of something shorter, something that will rejuvenate you with a sense of accomplishment as you look up and remember the big picture in front of you. But with excited eyes again.

National Suicide Prevention Month

September is National Suicide Prevention Month, this week is National Suicide Prevention Week, and Wednesday is World Suicide Prevention Day. Please always remember that if you’re worried about yourself or someone you care about, you can call the Suicide and Crisis National Lifeline at 988.

While I don’t do many workshops now about suicide and/or grief, I still believe it’s my job in some way to contribute to the world in an inspiring and hopeful way.

On Sunday, I was reading the Albuquerque Journal newspaper and the Pearls and Swine cartoon made the point that we are constantly told to go forward, to go forward, and yet often we aren’t told…how. This is one of my irritations with therapy. Sure, it’s great to spill what’s in your head, to purge it, but that can only take you so far.

You need homework and you also need to know how to push yourself forward, how to keep moving toward the light. The cartoon made me think about my own messages and wondering if I provide enough ideas about how to go forward.

I do believe there is hope and light ahead of us, but it’s like my dog Goose who loves to be in the pool. However, Goose’s idea of being in the pool is to stand on the top step, maybe the second step if he wants to cool off his belly on a hot day. And yet Goose doesn’t want to take that step forward to swim (unless he’s pushed from behind at which time he will happily swim to the deep end of the pool and return to the steps in the shallow end). We want to go forward and yet we’re afraid to take the step forward. Do we need to be pushed? Or do we need the right motivation? Does it scare us that if we go forward, maybe we can’t turn around and go back if we’re afraid? So many questions, so many fears.

We know the light is there- we’ve seen it. Maybe just take small steps. No one said you had to run forward in a sprint. I believe you can do it and my hope is to create better blogs on the how that I believe is missing in so many messages.

But for now, take a small step. You can stop, you can rest. Remember, the light is there and you definitely want to not just see it, but be part of it.

Early Early Mornings

I don’t jump out of bed at 4:00 am; it’s more like I roll out of bed.

But once I start running and I look up at the night sky and the stars, then the first outline of the Sandia Mountains as the sun starts to reside behind them, I’m reminded how much I love being up in those early hours.

I used to say that the early morning felt so hopeful because it was like someone had washed off the chalkboard scribblings of the day before and we have a chance to start new. When I finish my run and do a variety of things around the house (watering plants outside, cleaning up dog poop, checking on the pool, emptying the dishwasher, feeding the dogs), I think about how much it’s my favorite time of the day.

The morning light (and the cool especially this time of year as we start to transition to fall) begins to change my perspective of any worry I might have woken up with or that’s residual from the day before. Seeing the coming light gives me hope that new things could happen today, that there’s new opportunity ahead, that I have all the time in the world. That I can make my goals and dreams come true.

Everyone laughs that I’m asleep before 9:00 pm most nights. I laugh that I struggle to get out of bed that early.

But the most hope I feel is during those early morning hours and I believe we should grab all the hope we can, especially that which keeps us inspired and gives us the energy to face challenges (and opportunities!) ahead. There’s something to be said about watching darkness become light.

Embracing Ourselves

On my desk, I have a small stack of newspaper clippings that I’ve kept for some sort of inspirational purpose. One article, from The New York Times in 2022, is about Ben Crowe, a mind-set coach who works with tennis players.

I have several items noted in the article, including that one of his core principles is that “We don’t know ourselves enough, and the bits we do know we don’t love enough.”

How true.

While I always have been a reflective sort of person, for some reason recent years have me reflecting more. I don’t know if it’s age or the pandemic or the after effect of so many losses in my life, that I want to make sure I take advantage of everything I can in this life that we have. A life that feels as if it’s spinning faster all the time.

It’s amazing how disconnected people are from themselves. But it’s also a challenge to get to know ourselves. It means reaching keeping inside, a place many people don’t feel comfortable going. It might be that as we tried to reach deep inside earlier in our lives, other people squashed us. We learned early that if we wanted to be who thought we should be, we’d have to dodge the darts of people who were jealous and/or didn’t want to see us succeed. That meant we made a choice– either to keep fighting or to shut down.

Yet, if we do know ourselves, this also might have happened- people shot us down there, too, so we learned that maybe we shouldn’t love those aspects of ourselves that we had come to really like.

And so we found ourselves in a circle, one that didn’t leave us happy, but left us believing we needed to be okay with where we were.

Life is short and we all have choices. I know the digging inside oneself is difficult, and often lonely, but I also know the journey is well worth taking. I wouldn’t be where I am or have done everything i have if I’d chosen to shut down. Embrace and love who you are and what you contribute to this world.

The Endurance of Faith

I saw Fr. Gene, the Norbertine priest with whom I do my spiritual direction. here at their Abbey in Albuquerque, on Friday. We were discussing world events and how they impact the reactions of many people. Particularly, how many people are living in fear.

I am well aware of what’s happening around the world and around me. I don’t discuss it here (I reserve those discussions for the people I walk my dogs with and the dinner table with Greg and others) partly because I can’t let it distract me from the goals and dreams I have. My inspiration is strong and I don’t want to wake up in twenty years, sorry I didn’t do the things I had the opportunity to do.

I also believe one of my roles in this world/life is to contribute on a positive level. There is much I can’t change, but what I can do is throw positive energy into the world by sharing what I create and my inspiration.

That said, it’s not that life is perfect. There is a constant struggle and worry about various things. Some days are very quiet where I am in my bubble creating. There are days I have to go out in the world and not let my irritation with people not paying attention as they drive (or leave their shopping carts in the middle of the aisle! Or look that someone else is coming another way with a shopping cart!) get to me. Sometimes I believe it might be easier to stay in bed and ignore the world. And yet, that’s not the life I truly want to lead.

I am constantly inspired and that’s what I want to share.

Fr. Gene called this the endurance of faith. Maybe because I’ve had so many losses and challenges, I don’t blame God for what’s happening in the world (I listened to many people do this after losing a loved one to suicide). I know that somewhere down the line many things will get better although that doesn’t mean the road to get there will be smooth.

In many ways, it’s sort of like this photo of me hiking up to the M at the University of Montana in Missoula earlier this summer– there were some rocks I had to maneuver past and then there was a smooth spot. Life can be rocky. And then it’s smooth. We are grateful for those smooth moments, but we must remember to use the rocky moments, the challenges, to teach us how to be stronger and keep our heads held high with hope and light.

Finding Chelle Summer Style

I bought a Lilly Pulitzer sweater recently (sweaters, sunglasses, and shoes remain out of my realm!) and on the tag there was this:

“It all started with one incredible woman who had the courage to find her joy and create her own sunshine.”

Growing up, it was always all about fitting in. Looking back, the messages feel confusing– we were to try and fit in. Yet we were also told that we should find out who we are. But if we didn’t fit in, often we felt bad that we didn’t, like there was something wrong with us.

For me, now it feels like the difference between style and fashion. Fashion and trendy last for a short time, style is who we are for the long haul.

I did the work and because of it I never truly felt like I fit in anywhere in my life. I kept trying. I had lots of friends, but few that were really close to me. I changed hairstyles in high school almost as often as my outfits.

After I started writing fiction again, when my work in suicide prevention and loss was winding down about fifteen years ago, I found myself drawn back to the high school me– to the clothes, the colors, the music. And to my childhood– also the clothes, the colors, the Barbies- with my younger sister Denise.

What I thought I had left behind, was still part of me and I wasn’t quite finished with it. I twisted it around-– taking pieces of it and merging it with who I am today. I finally realized a great many aspects of life weren’t going to be what I wanted them to be, nor would I fit into many places. Instead, if I truly wanted something, I was going to have to create it myself.

So I did and I continue to do so.

Pattern Stories

The original title was “Pattern Stories.”

I envisioned each chapter was a pattern and the dress that that particular pattern became, a dress that was made for a special occasion. But as the story unfolded in front of me as I wrote it, it changed into something else. It became Ida’s story.

But it wasn’t really just about Ida.

Yes, it was Ida’s story as she and her pilot turned space researcher husband Elliott married and moved to Albuquerque in 1960, taking Ida away from her family and Ohio, yet dreaming of the life she would build with Elliott.

Life, however, has a funny way of not always turning out as we thought it would. While Ida fully expects that she and Elliott will have a family, children circling them, slowly her story begins to change when that doesn’t look promising. Elliott encourages her to find meaning in something to do other than clean their apartment.

That’s when she begins to sew. But not just sew for herself, but for the women around her and in the wider city of a booming post-war Albuquerque.

I found Ida’s way through these patterns. She learned how to help other women find happiness in their dresses (and a swimsuit), giving them the confidence in their own lives. And learned that the story she was supposed to tell about her own life would be something different. Not bad, just different.

The pattern companies didn’t always place copyright dates on the patterns, particularly in the 1960s, so some of my research was making sure the dresses matched the time I was writing. The book takes place between 1960 to 1966 and it was important to me that readers feel like they, too, were in that time. I spent a lot of time reading the Albuquerque Journal newspaper from during that period and Greg and I drove around town, matching addresses and locations. Estate sales also helped me see the insides of houses, some of them so long ago the location of them faded, but the house still fresh in my mind – like the house Ida and Elliott eventually built. And, yes, it has a pool.

I often talk about how clothes tell stories. But patterns do, too, because they are often where the story began.

You can find Ida here on the Chelle Summer web site or on Amazon.

The Climb to the M

In 1992, my sister Denise and started the climb to the M on the University of Montana campus, a place we were visiting with our parents (the summer before her senior year of high school), one of several schools she was considering attending.

When Greg and I stopped in Missoula for the night on our way to Spokane, I knew climbing the M was something we needed to do the next morning.

What I didn’t tell anyone when I posted photos from the top on social media was that Denise didn’t make it to the top. I did and somewhere in a photo album I have a photo looking down on her from where I stood at the M and where she stood just below me.

One of the things I did after Denise died, was write about her suicide, as a letter to her, in the Ball State Daily News where I was a sports reporter covering the men’s basketball team. She had died on the morning Ball State was to play Kansas in the first round of the NCAA tournament.

These words, the ones I wrote over thirty years ago, resonated with me on the trip to Missoula and all the way up the mountain:

“You only made it halfway up to the ‘M’ on the mountainside of the University of Montana last summer. But then, you thought you’d return and have the chance to climb the whole way up.”

We were there and it was the opportunity for me to make that second climb for her. I know she was with me, as she always is, and that we did it together.

The Honeymoon...and Chelle Summer

Sometimes I forget that Chelle Summer was born on my honeymoon with Greg ten years ago. And it’s hard to believe Chelle Summer turns ten this year– more on that at the start of August when I celebrate Chelle Summer’s “birthday.”

We had decided to go on a “surfing safari” for our honeymoon. We drove to LA to stay with our friends there a few days and pick up our surfboards that we stored in their garage. What we didn’t anticipate was how cold the more northern California beaches would be (we expected them to be cold, but not that cold).

On the way to LA from our home in Albuquerque, however, we had stopped at the outlet mall in Barstow, a place that was a sort of usual break for us each time we’d driven to LA for the previous year. And it was in the Old Navy store where I said something out loud, wondering why they didn’t make colored denim skirts, just shorts.

Greg’s response– the one he might regret some days– “Then make them yourself.”

After our return to LA, before heading back to New Mexico, we decided to make our first trip into the garment district. I don’t recall now if this was really related to me making any skirts so much as we thought we’d check it out and maybe find some good clothes, too. I did buy a handbag and a dress, but it was the start of our fabric buying adventure that has fueled where Chelle Summer is today.

When we arrived home, I started to seek out estate sales again, something that had been dormant for me for several years as I pursued other things. And that led me to a house where I bought my first vintage dresses and began the sewing experiments that would continue to propel what had gone from a surfing safari to a sewing safari honeymoon.

Adaptability

I was raised with travel stars in my eyes. My maternal grandparents seemed to travel the world in my childhood and their house was filled with National Geographic and Life magazines. Plus, the drive to their house on the north side of Chicago from ours in the suburbs meant passing by O’Hare Airport and all the billboards beckoning one to travel to the Bahamas in the winter and advertising new service to Warsaw. Our family summer vacations were by car (after all, there were four of us kids) until Mom went to work for the original Midway Airlines while I was in high school.

But each time I start packing to leave as an adult, I find myself filled with anxiety about, well, leaving. It’s ridiculous, but somehow I find that I get rooted into my routine so easily that it’s hard to pull myself out of it. And this was made worse by the pandemic when Greg and I couldn’t make our several trips a year to LA. When we finally could make a trip, I was a wreck, but I knew it was important for me to go, to pull my root out of the ground.

The more I travel, the more I realize how important it is for me, that it makes me more adaptable to situations. And it makes me appreciate my routine at home that much more. Travel helps me bend more. And I know that by bending more, I’ve also had so many opportunities I wouldn’t have had if I stayed home.

I keep pulling the root out because I know I want to make the most of this life I have, because I want to experience new things, meet new people. Creating– via writing and sewing- are mostly solitary activiities– but there’s a balance to that of experiencing the world. After all, those travels keep inspiring me to create more.

Surrender

Surrender.

The word caught me by surprise. Maybe I hadn’t heard it in some time, perhaps because “letting go” is more often the phrase I might use or hear. But, as I have often written, letting go is a challenge for me and there’s something about that phrase that I guess never quite worked for me.

But surrender is a word I haven’t use often even though surrender and letting go essentially mean the same thing to me.

And yet when I look at this photo, taken in June 2023 in Bali, surrender comes to mind. And it works in my head in a way that letting go doesn’t seem to.

Maybe our word choices affect how we react to what it is we need to do to move forward, make change, challenge ourselves.

In my long list of ways to keep moving myself forward and shed what holds me back, I’m going to experiment. When I need a reminder, I’m going to think of this photo and the word surrender. Maybe it’ll bring the little change I need propel myself to where I want to be. It’s always worth a try.

Reimagining My Grief

Mom’s birthday on May 12 ends what my sister Karen and I call “Birthday and Anniversary Season.” It begins in March with the anniversary of our sister Denise’s Suicide and continues with the anniversary of Mom’s death, Denise’s birthday, our parents’ wedding anniversary, and then our parent's’ birthday. Oh, yes, and don’t forget to throw Mother’s Day in there, too.

It doesn’t matter how much time passes, those dates have become part of our muscle memory. If we would choose to ignore them, they would still remind us somehow that they are a part of us.

And yet the journey has changed in so many ways.

Having experienced the loss of my sister when I was 21 and then my grandmother– who I lived with during my freshman year of collage– seven months later, I was forced to forge my way through grief fairly early in life. Writing a book about Denise’s suicide plus traveling the world speaking about it, each time I told the story, it was like I rewove where it belonged in my life. There were pieces to let go, pieces to keep. Then the losses of my parents, leaving me without them at a much younger age than many people I knew.

I had to figure out where to place the losses, and the grief, in my life otherwise it would guide me to places I knew I didn’t want to go. I saw early that life was too short for that although I also had to find way forward when faced with a loss that many people never do find a way through.

Because I’ve spent so much time reflecting and continuing to walk the road, even when I can’t see where it’s leading, I’m also finding that I view grief differently than most people.

I know that many people have no words, and saying they are sorry is the only way they can express the sense of not knowing what to do. But please, don’t feel sorry for me. I can’t change what happened, especially something that happened more than thirty years ago.

I wish Denise were still here, but that’s not the life I’ve had. I have always known she is still with me and maybe in some ways it made it easier for me when my parents died– as if she were waiting at the airport gate for them to arrive (along with all the pet dogs who have moved on as well). Each time someone– or a dog– dies, I picture Mom, Dad, Denise, and all the dogs at the top of the escalator waiting just outside airport security for the loved one to arrive at what feels to me like a new home.

My life is full of inspiration because I’ve been open to it. I learned how to seek beyond what was right in front of me to see something more. And I always remind myself that Mom, Dad, and Denise are cheering me on. They aren’t part of my life in the way I ever thought they would be, but they are still are and that’s what most important. Please don’t feel sorry for me. I’m so very lucky.

Reflections of Mom

Substantial.

How many times over the past few weeks have I used that word when describing fabric and then adding, “That’s the word my mom would have used to describe it.”

She would have turned 88 today, hard to believe since she’s been gone more than ten years now. Between her birthday today and the inundation of commercials for Mother’s Day over the past few weeks, I have been thinking about what I would say if I were chosen to reflect on her for a television commercial (like one I saw recently).

Mom comes up so often when I’m creating Chelle Summer- as far back as the inspiration. I think of the time she held the coolest piece of fabric in her hand, something from the 60s, leftover from a top she had created, not sure what to do with it. This was in a period of my life where I wasn’t sewing at all and it didn’t occur to me to just keep it. She gave it away as she did with the dress she wore at my first birthday party, the blue and green fabric print that haunts me and I will one day recreate in Chelle Summer style.

Mom is there when I talk to people at events, whether the conversation be about the nice weight (substantial!) of the fabric or the person telling me about his/her mom which reminds me of my mom.

In the more recent years I’ve been estate sale-ing, mostly the ten years since my mom died, I have begun to understand more about her after seeing what other women keep in their bedroom closets, linen, closets, and kitchen cabinets. There is almost always one vintage dress in the closet. It might have a coffee stain or a cigarette burn, but it also had a memory attached to it. That dress told a story for her and she kept it to remember.

My mom had several of these, too. I have some of them (although not the one I wish I had!) and a couple of coats. In ways I never could have imagined, she taught me how to tell stories through the objects and textiles of our lives. And perhaps those items that sit in the back of my mind were let go to help me create something new, something still inspired by Mom, yet uniquely mine, uniquely Chelle Summer.

Taking the First Step

Showing up, taking the first step, it’s all huge in moving forward.

Whether it’s getting out the front door to run, getting into the pool for a swim (made a little more challenging given the pool isn’t quite warm yet), or cleaning the house, I’m so aware of the importance of taking that first step forward.

It’s like the first step is a domino. We have learned from the game that once one falls, the others will follow. We also know that once we take the first step, the second step is easier. That means it’s easier to complete the task and to do the same task the next time.

But if we’re having trouble making the first step, maybe we even need to back up a little, take a step backward (sorry, I couldn’t resist!). In that time to reflect as we go backward, think about a reward or some way to make the goal even smaller. Whatever it takes to propel us forward. And remember, it might take a few tries for something to work. That’s okay. That’s part of the learning process to go forward. Once we have some idea of what works for us, we can use that when we feel frozen in the future.

The key is to keep trying. The more we try, the easier it gets to go forward and climb bigger hills to challenge ourselves to accomplish more.

Running from the Inside

I have been a runner since I was 12. Running is as much a part of me as brushing my teeth. While there are days I don’t particularly want to do it, I do it anyway, because I know I’ll feel better if I do.

But for several years following surgery (having my uterus removed) in 2018, my running suffered. I wasn’t off from running that long, but it was the longest I’d been off probably since high school when I started to run year round.

In these past few years I have written a few things about working at making my running better, about trying to run harder, about how much harder the mental game is for me than it was twenty years ago.

Finally, last week I felt like I had made some steps forward– while it’s still hard, I had the sense that my fitness is little better, that I can run a little harder and further.

Then this weekend, something changed again.

I have been using the Garmin (watch) challenges as a way to keep myself motivated on those days I don’t want to go out. I remind myself to get at least 10,000 steps in by running the dogs to keep a monthly streak alive or to get a swim in so get that badge.

A week ago, I missed a 10K badge because I just didn’t feel like running a 10K and the weather wasn’t pleasant with strong spring winds wreaking havoc on us so I ran a shorter amount. But this past Friday, I did the 10K. I didn’t get a badge for it because I didn’t need it. I just wanted to prove to myself I could do it.

On Sunday, something new appeared in my Garmin app- you can now buy yourself into their program that helps you earn badges faster because you get double points an other badges that don’t exist to those who don’t pay the monthly fee.

Pay my way to badges? How does that help my fitness? It was a reminder how much people are being badgered to use outside forces to achieve goals that aren’t really true goals because you're paying your way to them, not earning them because you ran an extra mile.

I won’t be pursuing badges now because Garmin reminded me that I don’t need them. Running and swimming are about what’s inside me. Yes, the badges helped get me back some of my fitness, but as Garmin has made changes, I have, too, and that’s not to keep running that road with them beyond what my very expensive watch allows me to track.