I Found My Inner Strength with Chicken Soup . . .For the Soul

Longtime readers of Kissing the Frog know that I have been through my fair share of hard things. Icky stuff like cancer and autism and infertility and miscarriage and bed rest and birth defects.

Each of these things has sucked in it's own way; but I can't say any have broken me. No, not even losing my sweet Joey to cancer has broken me. It can't. None of it can. Some days I feel like I don't have a choice but to go on and forge ahead. For my spouse, for my children, for me. 

As someone who grew up living a simple life with an extremely loving and supportive family, I've had it pretty good compared to some other people. Many people have faced challenges that I'll never begin to understand. Since Joey's cancer battle and death, I've begun to say to people that just because I've experienced something worse than you have, it doesn't make your hard thing any less difficult for you. It's all in what we know. It's all in what we know as our personal experience.

I am so honored to be sharing my personal experience in the newest Chicken Soup for the Soul book, Find Your Inner Strength, which is officially on sale today. In my essay, "Bit by Bit," I share how I, along with my family, am healing a bit every day since Joey's loss.

Rawr!

Find Your Inner Strength includes 101 stories of resilience, positive thinking, and overcoming challenges. Included are sections on overcoming self-destructive behavior, fighting health challenges, powering through loss (in which my story is included), moving past disabilities, accepting the new normal, accepting what makes you different, learning to reach out, rising to the challenge, pursuing your dreams, and taking back your life. I cannot wait to read the other stories in this anthology!

Chicken Soup for the Soul has been around for over 20 years. It's tag line - "Changing lives one story at a time" - alludes to their powerful purpose. They allow writers to share their stories in the hopes that they just might change someone's life. You can follow Chicken Soup for the Soul on Facebook and Twitter. You can get your copy of

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Find Your Inner Strength: 101 Empowering Stories of Resilience, Positive Thinking, and Overcoming Challenges from Amazon (this is an affiliate link), from the Chicken Soup for the Soul website , or anywhere books are sold.

OR you can get one from me. I have a copy to give away to a reader who can tell me:

What is the greatest challenge you have overcome and how did you do it? 

The rules are simple:
1. Go to my Facebook page and find the pinned post at the top.
2. Answer the question honestly. Speak from your heart.
3. You will get an automatic "like" from me.
4. The post with the most likes by 10:00 p.m. Central Time Wednesday night 10/29 will win the book. In the event of a tie, I will ask my fellow BlogU planning team bloggers to help decide the winner.
5. I'm only sending the book to residents of the US. Sorry, if I were a famous author I could afford to ship anywhere. Maybe someday. :)

That's it. Good luck finding your inner strength!

*This giveaway has ended. 

Spending an Evening with David Sedaris

David Sedaris via ticketomaha.com 

Ask any humor writer who their idols are and inevitably the name
David Sedaris comes up. A popular humorist, comedian, author, and radio contributor, Sedaris is known for his self-deprecating and autobiographical wit. Born in New York in 1956, Sedaris discusses his middle-class life with five siblings, his education, a speech impediment, his Greek heritage, the numerous jobs he's held and places he's lived, and obsessive behaviors such as his use of drugs.

I appreciate anyone who can take a look at their life and speak openly and honestly about it. Adding in a dash of laughter about oneself is just icing on the cake! When I heard that he would be performing his one-man show, An Evening with David Sedaris, in Omaha on October 30 I was intrigued. I asked some humor blogger friends what books of his they would recommend, and I downloaded them eager to learn more.

After reading Me Talk Pretty One Day and Holidays on Ice, I think it's safe to say I'm officially a fan. Reading about him as a fifth grade boy pretending his speech therapist was on a covert government operation (my fifth grade son is in speech therapy) and reading about his quest to become a Macy's Elf during Christmas time (I have memories of seeing Macy's all lit up for the holidays when we lived in New York), I found his stories to be hilarious and relatable. I'm on to his 1997 best-seller, Naked, now; and while I feel like I know what to expect, I suspect Sedaris is the kind of writer who keeps you guessing what he is going to say next.

Sedaris is a three-time Grammy Award nominee and a New York Times bestselling author. He is currently touring the country reading his new and unpublished works, holding Q&A sessions about his work, and signing copies of his books. If you live in or around the Omaha area, he will be performing his show An Evening with David Sedaris on Thursday, October 30, at 7:30 pm at the Holland Performing Arts Center in Kiewit Hall. You can purchase tickets here through Ticket Omaha.

I personally can't wait for the show and to learn more about this amazing writer. Hope to see you there!


*I was comped with two tickets from Omaha Performing Arts to Sedaris' performance for this post, but my new found love for him is all my own. 

Tuesday

It's Tuesday again. Tuesday is my Nemesis, my Groundhog Day.

Yes, this would be my toilet.

 

 

 

You see, my cleaning lady comes every Tuesday. Now, before you go thinking 'Kathy is too highfalutin' for me,' just know that I don't pay her very much. She's not that good. And I'm okay with that because 3.2 seconds after she walks out the door, someone spills their full glass of milk all over the kitchen floor or pees all over the bathroom wall or smudges up the glass on the front door with their fingerprints.

 

So each Tuesday, after she leaves, I inevitably have to use the toilet in the master bathroom at some point in the day. And each time I use it, I have to scoot the toilet paper keeper - thingy back up next to the toilet because she has scooted it all the way back in the corner.

 

Why is my toilet paper not on a toilet paper holder, you ask? Because the same little humans that mess up the house in 3.2 seconds managed to break it off the wall, that's why.

 

Anyway, each Tuesday, as I am sitting on the toilet and scooting the toilet paper back up next to me - again - I am thinking, 'It's Tuesday again? What did I do last week?'

 

In fact, I'm kind of feeling like my life lately has been this endless series of Tuesdays that leave me scratching my head and wondering what I am doing with my life.

 

One glance at my already full January calendar tells me what I've been spending most of my time on.

 

Everyone has their own color.

 

Sometimes I long for the early days when the boys were little, and we had nowhere to be. An outing for us was the grocery store or the library for story time. I never got bored because I always had someone to play with.

 

But my boys are growing up, and unlike the lazy days my older boys experienced, Baby E's schedule is determined by the older boys' or how many errands Mommy thinks she can run before nap time. That's just the life of a family, I guess.

 

Not that I mind (most days), but as the new year is beginning - ironically on a Tuesday - I can't help but reflect on one nagging thought: What the hell did I do last year?

 

And more importantly: What will I do this year?

 

No, this isn't going to be a New Year's Resolution post. I've done that before. And I think it's safe to tell you because we're all friends here - I didn't do any of those five things I said I was going to do, with the exception of writing more. In 2011, I posted 23 times. In 2012, I posted 116 times.

 

In April, I was asked to be part of a new website called Her View From Home, which highlights the many wonderful aspects of my home state, Nebraska. (No seriously, Nebraska rocks! It's a great place to live.) I am currently writing two family posts and one gluten-free post a month, which post on Wednesday mornings. Even if you live nowhere near Nebraska, I promise you, the site has something you will enjoy.

 

Lately, I have also been featured on other sites. Mamapedia was the first to post something of mine. I really wanted to see my own name on my daily e-mail from them. After submitting about eight times, I was ready to give up. I had a post that had gotten a good response from people, so I said 'What the hell - one more time.' And that's the one that did it. You always hear that many famous people were rejected several times before they found success. But, rejection sucks - for real. I guess my takeaway there is that the more I submit, the more likely someone will grab something they like.

 

I've had success on other sites, too, like The Huffington Post. From there, I have gained new followers for whom I'm so grateful. I may not have thousands of followers, but I know the ones who are here are here because they really want to be and want to hear what I have to say. And that's humbling, but also inspiring.

 

As far as those getting healthier and exercising goals - holy crap, you guys! This has not been a good year for that. I have neglected myself big time. That fact glared back at me a few times from pictures I saw of myself. Here I am on my 40th birthday:

Not bad, right?

Here is a professional photograph I had taken this summer that is now following me around the interwebs as my gravitar:

 

 

 

This picture is horrible! Holy moley, I look godawful! I think you can still see the old me in my smile and eyes, but the bags under my eyes and the bloated face tell onlookers what's been going on - way too much crappy food and way too little sleep. My mom keeps telling me, 'Well you are 42, you know.' Yes, thank you, Mom, I can count. I'm not denying aging, but looking the way I do in the second picture is preventable and - hopefully - fixable.

 

And there's the aging body. Yes, again, I'm in my 40's, metabolism is slowing down, blah, blah, blah. But friends, I have gained a serious amount of weight his year. Which obviously is not acceptable. I know I am probably never going to have my honeymoon, pre-baby bikini body back - like, ever - but, I did promise Hubby I would consider wearing a bikini on our tropical vacation later this year. Instead of airbrushed magazine models, I'm using me as inspiration.

 

 

I used to think I was fat. It was the thighs. I've always

had, er - ample - thighs.

 

 

 

We joined a new family-friendly gym, and I just have to go. Or do something at home most days. There's really no excuse. One of my sons is getting a little chubby, too. I feel like I've been setting a horrible example - failing as a mom. I need to do better.

 

So that's the thing. I need to do better. I know I can do better. I told someone today, I've had too many of those Why bother? moments this year. And I shouldn't have. Despite the fact that yes, I am still grieving the loss of my beautiful boy and I will be for the rest of my life, I do have the rest of my life ahead of me. And Hubby's and my sons. I want to be the best me I can be. I want to at least be trying harder.

 

We've heard all the sayings - Happy wife, happy life. - If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

 

Seriously, these are true. And the wife and mama hasn't been too happy for a while now. Really happy.

 

But you know what? I think I've finally come to a place where I know what makes me happy - what used to make me happy anyway. And all I can do is say I will try. No resolutions, no goals. Just maybe a few dreams in mind, maybe some things I want to do. I'm not going to spell them all out here. I'll keep them close to me for now, but I promise I will share if I meet with success.

 

I have spent way too much time this past year feeling sorry for myself, thinking nothing I do matters anyway. I know that is simply not true. It matters. I matter. I don't want to feel tired and hopeless. I want to feel invigorated and hopeful.

 

There are things I want to do.

 

All I can do is try.

 

It is Tuesday after all.

 

 

 

 

Do you have a New Year plan?

 



 

 





 

 



 

It's Time for a Change in Direction

 

We were sitting in the pharmacy drive-thru. My head was half hanging out the window of the van, my eyes closed. I could hear the soft bing bongs and bleep bloops of the boys' video games.

 

I was tired. I felt myself drifting off, and then, "Can I help you?"

 

----------

 

Driving off with prescription in hand my fog continued. We were stopped at a red light when it dawned on me: I can't remember what clothes Joey was buried in.

 

I know they must have been green - his favorite color was green - but I can't remember exactly which ones. I know we didn't put shoes on him. The only shoes that fit his swollen feet were his tennis shoes, and I didn't think it was appropriate to bury him in tennis shoes. Besides, no one would see his feet anyway.

 

I searched my brain for the visual of Joey, but all I could remember was touching him in his coffin and feeling his cold, waxy face. I couldn't see what the shirt looked like, but I remember hearing crinkling when I touched it, like Joey had been wrapped in Press 'n Seal before he was dressed.

 

----------

 

I'm so tired I can't remember what I buried my son in.

 

I'm so tired I can't complete a task without getting distracted.

 

I'm so tired that my brain is having trouble thinking of the words my mouth wants to say.

 

I'm so tired I can't even be patient with my children.

 

I'm so tired I don't want to spend time with my husband.

 

I'm snapping and negative and yelling. And then I wonder why they talk to each other that way. I'm not too tired to realize they are learning it from me.

 

----------

 

I'm tired because my house is a mess. Papers are everywhere. Toys and clothes and junk we don't use anymore have piled up and a house that once seemed big is shrinking from too much stuff.

 

I had a baby a year ago. A year's worth of no time to organize, clean out, start fresh.

 

Now, I have made lists and planned my time and I know what I want to accomplish.

 

But it's not happening and I feel like I am chasing my tail.

 

Chasing it into the wee hours of the night.

 

Falling asleep in a chair.

 

School lunches unmade.

 

Dishes in the sink.

 

The pile of photographs from summer 2011 still sitting unlabeled on the dining room table.

 

-------------

 

I'm heavier than I have ever been in my life. There is a least fifteen pounds of extra weight around my middle that has no business being there.

 

But I'm too tired to do anything about it.

 

And my treadmill broke and my gym membership expired.

 

My husband asked me if we were still married.

 

I need a girls' night out.

 

He wants a date.

 

--------------

 

It's all swirling in my head along with the fact that I am doing nothing that I should be doing.

 

Sleeping.

 

Cardio.

 

Yoga.

 

Nourishing my body with healthy food.

 

Starting my novel.

 

Seeking out paid opportunities to write.

 

Spending time with my family before they are all grown up and gone.

 

What I am doing is getting lost. I'm getting lost along a path that I thought I knew. A path I didn't need a map for. A path that came out in a clearing.

 

But somewhere along the way I got distracted by the scenery, led off course to somewhere I thought I should be going.

 

I'm stumbling. I'm drained. I'm flailing. I'm failing.

 

I'm losing myself.

 

And now I need to find my way back.

 

 

 

 

 



Seven Things...

...you didn't know about me.

Today I'm linking up with one of my favorite bloggers, JD from Honest Mom, who was sweet enough to invite all of us non-BlogHer attendee losers to link up with her fun idea of getting to know each other. 

I'm going to share seven things you didn't know about me, which may be hard because I'm kind of an open book.  So here goes:

1.  I am the youngest of three.  My older brother and sister's names are Barbie and Ken.  It's true, swearsies.  I am not clever enough to make that up.  When I was younger, all of their friends called me Skipper.  :/
2. I am a very loyal person.  It's a great quality when we're talking about other people, but when it comes to stores and brands, it's kind of silly.  And when it applies to, oh, say a hairdresser who hasn't given me a decent haircut in years, it can actually be a bit detrimental and stubborn.  I blame it on the fact that my birthday is in May, so I fall under the sign of the Bull.
3. I played soccer for over ten years, and I was actually pretty good.  You'd think I'd be a better runner and not complain about it so much, but soccer is really about sprinting, then jogging, then walking, then sprinting, and walking and jogging, which is really what I do anyway when I say I "run."
4. That said, I have two huge regrets about high school.  I hated high school.  They definitely were not the best years of my life.  I wish I would have tried harder during varsity soccer try-outs.  Looking back at the girls who made the team, I know I still wouldn't have made it, but at least I could say I gave it my all.  My other regret is that I didn't take journalism (read why in my very first post).  Then maybe I wouldn't be 42 and trying to finally do what I've always wanted to do.
5. I have horrible self-esteem, which is no surprise to anyone who has been reading my blog for a while.  Just as well as I can write about having good self-esteem, I can fake my way into having it at times.  I think it comes off to some people as being snobby when it's actually just a defense mechanism.
6. I am absolutely terrified of heights.  I can't even stand next to the railing at the mall.  I got stuck on top of a pyramid in Mexico on my honeymoon because I was too scared to descend the narrow steps down to the ground.
7. My bucket list includes hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, spending the night, and hiking out the next day (yeah, I know what I said in #6), going on a safari in Africa in honor of Joey who loved animals, and having a romantic second honeymoon in Greece (no climbing anything included).  I also, of course, want to publish a book.

Wow, I did it!

My 100th post is coming up, and I hear it's blogger tradition to write a post with 100 things about yourself.

One of the things is bound to be that I'm a cheater because I'll likely use these seven as well.



If you're new to my blog, welcome!!  Read some of my favorite posts to learn more about me and my story.  Hope to see you again.

Going Home

Photo by Kathy Glow

Inching, five miles per hour.

Why can't I just be home?

*     *     *

This post is in response to Flicker of Inspiration Linkup #58 - Tell a story in exactly 11 words - over at The Lightning and the Lightning Bug.

Driving home today after my looong-ass day of dropping Littles off at camp and running errands for my sister's wedding and taking Littles to appointments and stopping at the grocery store twice and not even being home long enough to eat a meal, I got stuck in traffic...and became inspired.

I guess you never know when that will happen.

How Cool Is That?

              "I honestly think it is better to be a failure at something you love than to be a
              success at something you hate." (George Burns, American comedian, 1896-1996)

About three months ago, my best friend from college, who is a professional writer, sent me a message on Facebook.  It said, "I think you should submit one of your pieces here," and had a link to The New York Times.

The New York Freaking Times.

They were asking for stories on Modern Love, and my friend suggested I submit one of my Joey stories.

Now, I may not be one those "funny" mom bloggers, but sappy, mushy, and emotional I can do.

And even though it was The New York Freaking Times, and I thought I had little more than a snowball's chance in hell of my essay being chosen, I decided to go for it.

I spent the better part of two months crafting a story that wove the tragedy of Joey's death with the miracle of Baby E's birth.  It had great guts, but I had to write and rewrite both the ending and beginning several times.

When it was finally at a place that I could call it done, I e-mailed it to my "editor," my mother, herself a brilliant writer, who has been polishing my work since I was in high school.

As per her suggestions, I changed the ending again, and struggled to get the word count just right.

And then, I took it, and hit "send."

The information provided said to assume after four weeks if I hadn't heard back that they were not publishing my piece.  I wrote "four weeks" on my calendar from the day that I had sent it.  (When Hubby saw that, he said, "What the hell does 'four weeks' mean?"  He thought I was pregnant again!)

I forced myself to not think about it. I forced myself to not think about how maybe, just maybe, it was good enough to be published in The New York Freaking Times.   I forced myself to not think about how cool it would be to say that I had something published in The New York Times.

So I went about the business of writing and submitting articles to various on-line publications.  And blogging.   And waiting.

As the four weeks loomed nearer, and no one was biting on any of my writing, I started to get depressed. I started to wonder if I'm really as good at this writing thing as I want to think I am.  The words of another college friend, who has shared some of my blog posts on her Facebook wall, kept popping into my mind: Don't let yourself get in the way of this, Kathy.

Because that's what I do.  I get in the way of my own dreams.  Being the queen of self-doubt, I take any rejection and non-encouragement and use it to fan the flames of my negativity and self-pity.  I've only been writing for a little over a year, but many times I've wondered why I'm even doing it at all.  Am I just wasting time?

Until last weekend, when I got an e-mail from another blogger.  It seems she came across my blog via the friend who had been posting on her Facebook wall.  She is launching a new website next month and asked if I would like to be a guest blogger.

I felt a little like Sally Field for a moment.

Of course I said yes, and I will share the link here when the site gets closer to launching.

I had almost forgotten about the Times submission, until I opened my e-mail yesterday and saw Re: essay on modern love.  It had been exactly four weeks since I had submitted my essay.  My stomach jumped as I went to open it, although I knew in my heart what it would say:

"Thank you for sending your writing to Modern Love. Although we have decided not to use your essay, we are grateful for the opportunity to consider it. I regret that the volume of submissions we receive makes it impractical for me to offer editorial feedback."

Wow, I got rejected by The New York Freaking Times!  How cool is that?

You know what's even cooler?  That I gave myself the chance to be rejected.  That I didn't just say to myself, 'The Times would never choose my piece, so why try?'

Instead, I tried, and I'm doing what I love.  And I'm resonating with people who are reading my blog. To me, that is success rather than failure.

How cool is that?



Have you recently tried something you've always wanted to do?  Did it make you feel like a success?

Now is the Time

I don't know why I decided this was the time.  Why this was the time I would do something I had always wanted to do (well, since 2004 anyway).  Why this was the time to start a blog.  Why now as I was sitting here with my three sons, home from school for snow day #2, lost in a haze of too much t.v., too much togetherness, too much arguing.  Why now?

Why not?

I've always wanted to write.  I couldn't do it in high school.  After all, at my all-female, Catholic high school, only the "cool girls" took journalism~and I wasn't one of those.

In college, it was my best friend's desire to be a journalist, not mine.

And in my life after school, I was filling my time as a teacher and searching for my prince, so I could begin "the rest of my life."

But the desire was always there.  So much so, in fact, I kept a binder full of anything I had ever written - poetry inspired by love, short stories inspired by nothing more than boredom, musings on any number of life's situations in which I found myself.

It wasn't until a diagnosis rocked my world in April of 2009 that I learned that I really had a voice and a story to tell that people would listen and respond to.

So why not now...isn't it time?