An Ordinary Therapist

Well, I really wanted to talk about how I don't have very much money . . and about how I was kind of feeling down, but my new Victoria's Secret swimsuit came in the mail today (ironic isn't it . . no money, new suit?).   And even as I'm writing this, I feel like I should be guilty. . but I'm not.  I've been really watching what I spend lately . . and I really do NEED a new suit since I can't wear the one with the see through behind to the beach!

And then it hit me . . this resilience thing.
How many of us are wearing our old "hole-y" suits?

So, I tried it on and wow . . vavavoom!  Oh, sure, the zebra's got a little pooch but she's got style too!  And maybe that's what resilience is . . a little belly laugh. . .some really supportive friends . . .and a new suit.

Anyone else willing to give it a try? I'm here waiting . .I'll be the one with the smile :)

Eleyana

You are kind of pissing me off . . all this talk about resilience when we need help.  You and all your highfalutin words . . and research.  My god, gal . . we don't need research.  We are livin' it! Pickin' ourselves out of our beds and workin', goin' to school, takin' care of our kids.  How else are we ever gonna get by? Last time I checked, there wasn't anyone handin' out money as prizes for being resilient!

Give me something to work with . . give me a big smiley face, a gold star .  . connect me to the President.  Oh, forget about him right now, he's busy campaignin' and worryin' about the masses.  How about givin' me an electric bill that I can pay without havin' to use my calculator in the store isle to see what I can afford and what I have to put back.  Fill up my tank with your credit card . . see how resilient you are then.

Resilience sounds like plastic . . and I am real.  Give me somethin' real, gal . . then I can listen.

(to see the Therapist's response, see comment)

Copyright 2012 - OWDTBH

She sent me an email this morning . . said I hadn't posted in a while

It was just the nudge I needed, I guess

Because on this one I thought I might hide

Some days are easier than others . . I pretend no one else understands

But I know she does, she's lived through them too

Asking the gods . . why and why not and why now

So I pushed myself to the table . . sun streaming into my eyes

Open to the blessings, of friends smart and sassy 

And of course in her case, Southern style

What would we do without them . . those women who prod and poke 

You've something to share, like a bee in the bonnet 

A kick-start full of hope

So here I am at the wordpress. .. a swirl of thoughts and smiles

Maybe it's her chutzpah, this Moxie belle 

No ordinary woman to me

A woman of mystery and mayhem, what in her mirror might we see

Revenge and lusty ardor 

Oh my god, should she be you or will she be me?

Stay tuned for the next chapter . . . the wheels are beginning to turn

All my love . . my dear :)

Resilience

As I have shared in the other "wing" of my blog . .I've been thinking a lot lately about what keeps us stuck and what motivates us to become unstuck . . in other words, what makes us resilient? I've got my nose into research and will post some sense of what the literature has to say . . but as I've professed so many times, I'm so much more interested in how "we" perceive it rather than the number-crunched, academically-presented to-fit-inside-the-box interpretations. Although I truly value to scientific method (just so you don't get me wrong) . . I am interested in perception and description . . what we think and feel as we live it. My objective is to share our voices . .in our own words. I seem to find my way through life the best when I read and hear the experiences of other women . . this is where I find my resilience:) Without your stories or your experiences . . . I can only hear the sounds of my own words . . . and when I am struggling, it is village of your many voices that lifts me and prods me and encourages me . . just as I hope the shared stories and experiences do for each of you. With each other . . we are never alone. Resilience. So I encourage you to open that comment box and share your stories of resilience. It will be good for you (as well as me . . and I hope for many others :) As always . . I am listening . .

Woman Work

I've got the children to tend
The clothes to mend
The floor to mop
The food to shop
Then the chicken to fry
The baby to dry
I got company to feed
The garden to weed
I've got shirts to press
The tots to dress
The can to be cut
I gotta clean up this hut
Then see about the sick
And the cotton to pick.

Shine on me, sunshine
Rain on me, rain
Fall softly, dewdrops
And cool my brow again.

Storm, blow me from here
With your fiercest wind
Let me float across the sky
'Til I can rest again.

Fall gently, snowflakes
Cover me with white
Cold icy kisses and
Let me rest tonight.

Sun, rain, curving sky
Mountain, oceans, leaf and stone
Star shine, moon glow
You're all that I can call my own.


Maya Angelou

The stories they shared in an hour changed her life forever . .
What will they do to yours?

Stories of Ordinary Women
Listen, Ask Questions, Share

Maxine

Well, well, well. What fools these mortals be.
Looks like these women could use some help Doc.
They’re still standin’ upright, but they’re seriously draggin’ tail, if you know what I mean.
I just don’t quite understand how they can keep pulling all of that weighty stuff around all the time.

Me,
I took care of all that nonsense years ago.
Thought it might give me that big wrinkle across my forehead. From all that heavy duty thinking.
Too much for me, I’m telling you. Nope. I’d rather put my energy into something productive.
Like shopping.

Crazy, huh? But it works for me.
I’ve got a closet full of clothes like you wouldn’t believe. I could wear a new outfit every day, if I could still get into all of them.
Put on a little weight lately, so some of them just have to hang there takin’ up space. Until I can get that cute little personal trainer to do more than just prance around in those skimpy spandex shorts givin’ me an eyeful.
Not that I mind lookin’, I might add.
But really, I should be sweating up a storm rather than just flirtin’ with all of the other men that walk through.
Don’t think that’s gonna lift my fanny any.
But it does seem to lift my spirits.
So I keep going.

Better than that one girlfriend of mine. All she does is work.
Sticks her nose to the grindstone and never lets up.
Always tryin’ to please somebody, somewhere, someway.
That’s her style.
Lookin’ for praise wherever she can get it.
If you ask me,
she’s hiding some big secrets under those giant heaps of gotta do’s.
But then she didn’t ask me, did she?
So I let her bury herself as deep as she’s gonna go before she wakes up one day and can’t find that artificial little smile she plasters on in the morning.
Too bad for her, though. I prefer the real thing.
Got mine at the Lancome counter.
Think I’ve seen you there, too,
haven’t I?

Hey, sorry, gotta run.
Wish I could stay and help you heal all of these other women, but
Dancing with the Stars starts in about an hour and I’d hate to miss it.
Have you seen the beauties they’ve had on there lately? Bodies to die for and no wrinkles either.
Reality TV.
There’s nothing like it.

Oh, and by the way. You don’t know anybody who needs a robe do you?
I picked this one up a while back,
but there’s this stain on it that I just can’t seem to get out.
Doesn’t show much to the naked eye. Seems to have gone much deeper than that.
Makes me feel uncomfortable though.
Do you think any of these other women would notice?

copyright US Library of Congress Jilly Bean, PhD