Samsmom: Life, Joy, Loss and Loving your Mitochondria

On Friday, I plopped down on my therapist’s couch. It’s one of my most favorite places and after an eye-opening couple of weeks, I needed a place to process.

My recent, abrupt dismissal from my side writing gig left me a bit sideways. While I was proud of how I held my ground, calling things as I saw them and not rolling over to be ‘nice’, I still had a lot to work out in my head. Much of my self-reflection led to a dreaded question I had to ask: “Is it me?”

Is it me? Dismissed from two jobs in five months. I had to look at myself in the mirror and examine the reflection. I studied intensely, just as I look for chin hairs that are out of place. Sometimes 10x magnification just isn’t enough.

My mind can quantify a lot, but the heart and the ego don’t quantify anything well. The ego bruises, the heart breaks, and like any soft tissue, they take time to mend. And in this world of cancel culture, it is easier to yell, blame, unfriend, shame, and walk away.

I love therapy. We examined the times this has happened to me, a quick cancel. We examined patterns, including what I attract and what is attracted to me. We unpacked. And like any messy bag, unpacking can be cathartic, pulling out the items that have been festering and no longer serve us.

I have been known to come in larger than life. At times, Milley Cirus has been my spirit animal…..I came in like a wrecking ball….

Like any spark attracted to a flame, the initial fire is fabulous; it’s hot, it’s intense, commands attention, and is a tad explosive.

I remember this fire after Samantha. I was a big ol’ bottle of lighter fuel just waiting for a spark. And that spark accomplished many great things over the course of a decade. It was fueled by intensity and the need to do something amazing, and we did. But when my Miracles for Mito partner and I parted ways, it left me wondering what happened to that glorious flame and sorting through the ashes.

It was also the middle of COVID, and I needed something else. In came my writing gig. It wasn’t mine, but I was all on board with a salesperson/publisher determined to make her magazine huge. I was fueled by her fire and the love of seeing my name and my work in print.

And in my last sales job, I came in with intensity, working at a fevered pace, consuming the accolades, determined to make a difference, held together by grand, big ideas.

After my last letting go, I bought Brené Brown’s new book, Strong Ground, and joined a Pilates Studio.

Something has been missing, my core. Those muscles that hold everything together, those that lie deep in our middle and work every day to keep us upright. Those muscles that cannot be built overnight, those that require consistency and repetitive hard work.

‘Intentionality and Consistency over Wild Intensity’

Ugh- so boring! Daily mental and physical lunges and squats, and showing up at work to build a foundation, brick by brick, rather than blowing up a bouncy house.

Bouncy Houses are fabulous. And they tend to blow away in a strong wind.

We ended the hour at therapy. Yes, all of this happened in just an hour. My therapist looked at me, “I know this year has been hard, but this work? What we are doing here can be life-changing. Let’s go do some mental push-ups.”

Push-ups. So terrible, unsexy, consistent, and intentional.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6………