Joyfully Ever After with Heidi Esther
Joyfully Ever After with Heidi Esther
E003. Storytime! I'm Lost in the Closet
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It's time for church. Will Heidi Esther find her way from lost in the closet to get there in time? Or will her son get to watch another Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?
(PS Yes, I know I mispronounced Tao, like, twice. :)
About SoulSanity
Are you ready to take a journey to more mindfulness, with a funnybone? Then Heidi Esther, your new best non-preachy mom friend, is here to walk with you. Every week you’ll get a funny and inspiring story, poem, and reflection. To get you more Peace in your Head and Joy in your Heart. Subscribe to SoulSanity today, you get her FREE JOY GUIDE!
Who is Heidi Esther?
Heidi Esther is a storyteller, writer, poet, big-feeler, midwestern momma, and spoiler of all dogs, especially her chestnut-eyed Olive. She is committed to walking with fellow humans on their mindful journeys to a more peaceful and joyful life. Especially when the spaghetti sauce hits the ceiling. Again.
She resides in Central Illinois with her prankster wife, two eye-rolling teenagers, and two spoiled dogs. When she doesn’t have her head in the clouds or a motivational book, she can be found trying to teach her children the virtues of meditation, making sourdough pancakes, or growing parsley for caterpillars.
For more about Heidi Esther, check this out. Or, you can email her and let her know what’s your favorite dessert at howdy@heidiesther.com. And if you’re into live Facebook videos with cute dogs, friend her over here 👍.
Are you ready to Learn the 5 Steps of Self-Leadership that will help you peel back the layers and Lead you to Joy, on your own terms? Then go to http://heidiesther.com/steps today!
You can watch all of my episodes on YouTube @HeidiEsther
or Join my neighborhood online at http://Facebook.com/groups/MyJoyfullyEverAfter
I'm Heidi Esther, bringing you weekly shots of mindfulness with a bunny bone. Now here's the show. Howdy my friend. How's your summer going? This summer is pretty weird for me because I'm busier than I've ever been at work, but I'm also enjoying every part of it. Well, almost. I've been waking up angry lately. Do you ever wake up angry? Usually for me, it's a sign I need to set a boundary or get more sleep. I try and avoid my fam while I sort out my extreme grumpiness. The silver lining to my angry cloud is I'm working on a new sheet for you called my angerist teacher. Kind of like my octopus teacher, but no free diving skills necessary. In true Heidi fashion, I wrote and reflected to untangle my spiciness. However, I woke up angry again today. My stepdog has been sick overnight for the last three days. Well, and sick during the day too, so we have him in our room now. And I didn't sleep again. Yes, my wife is more attentive to her dog than my teenagers are to their Snapchat feeds. And I know she needs extra love, but the only thing that came out of my mouth this morning was definitely not that. So after some meditation, I apologized to her, cancelled some plans, and made time for a nap this afternoon. Kinda like the bear I mentioned in the souljourner question of the day. I allowed this to be my life today. Which brings me to my story. During a time in my life where each day I felt like I was shedding a new skin. I definitely could have used a little more allowing or a lot more allowing during that period. I'd love to know what you think of this concept of allowing too. Now, here's the story. Help. I am lost in the closet. Mummy, can I watch a show with Barbie? My little hazel eyed preschooler asked. Like a mom ninja I wiped the last of tears from my eyes. But before I could answer, his eyes grew big, pointing at a large pile of clothes on my bed. Mommy, what happened to your clothes? Sweetheart, I had a hard time picking an outfit for church. So I surveyed the wreckage and continued. I tried on almost as many outfits as I am old. That's a lot, mommy, my son concluded, nodding his head. I laughed. But the outfit wreckage is no laughing matter. It's a symptom of something else. Wardrobe Crisis Wardrobe crises often caused me to be late for family holidays in high school and college. I would try on outfits we bought for that specific holiday. Then I would try on old standbys. Then my mom's clothes. Everything made me feel fat or dorky or ugly. I often ended up a pantyhose puddle of tears next to a pile of clothes. Sometimes my mom put my hair in rollers, and that helped. Most times nothing did. Thankfully, the wardrobe crisis has hit only now and then as a married woman, even less so as a mommy. It's entirely forgivable to show up at Christmas in a black falour tracksuit if you're an overtired mommy, and tracksuits don't cause crises. But now, like the me in high school and college, I have hit an uncomfortable point. Yes, yes, my marriage is already on the decline. More on that in my upcoming book. But there's something else. A couple months ago, I had a friend let me know I could have a crush on my best friend. Full disclosure on that story in a story that I wrote is titled I didn't even know I was in a closet. Anyway, back to my crush on my best friend, who is not a man. So while I've never kissed a girl, I'm pretty sure I would like it. As you can imagine, I'm about as happy about this new discovery as I would be opening up a fridge of expired fish. As if a marriage in crisis is not enough. But being a lesbian woman could explain a lot of things like how I love my church so much. Thirty minutes later I'm sitting in a pew. My kids are downstairs running around under someone else's watch, thank God. Literally. I look down in my lap, my cream short sleeved lace top hiding my mom pudge. My fawn linen pants lay like a freshly folded sheet over my legs, revealing the tip of my gold strappy sandals. Yep, I picked the right outfit. Only took about thirty tries. My hands are bare with a rolling ring on my right middle finger, which makes me chuckle. Up my right arm is a rainbow cuff of rubber bracelets. Please turn to page two hundred thirty four for the next hymn a pastoral voice directs from the pulpit. Ah church a centuries old sanctuary, with two walls of stained glass concentrating the heat of summer onto us blessed souls. I wipe the sweat off of my brow, thankful for my recent Justin Bieber haircut hiding my summer shine. The congregation starts singing. Strong female voices lead the way. Well, that's easy to do when your church goers are about eighty percent female, I chuckle to myself. I look around. Most of the ladies here are gay and have a good decade or three on me. Most of the time they dress in cargo shorts, button down shirts, sandals, and no makeup. Questions erupt in my mind like popcorn. Do they wear those clothes because they're a lesbian? Or because they are wiser about foodwear choices? Or because they are all members of a secret Birkenstock club? Yep, there are a lot of gay ladies at my church. When I joined, I probably liked it because there are a lot of gay ladies, and I didn't even know it. But to be honest, I've never really known any other gay ladies until joining this church, unless you count the Netflix series the L word. But if I am gay, why haven't I woken up one day and just felt the need to put on cargo shorts? And why don't I feel any different than what I did when I thought I was straight? These are the questions that circle my brain these days, like vultures waiting for the coast to clear. The singing starts to get louder, hitting the crescendo before the end. Well, I'm not straight. I might be gay, but the only thing I know for sure right now is that I'm like my wardrobe lost. Tight rope a poem. It's a long way down as I look over this tightrope, my feet grip for life. Balancing me then, heavy, calculating, perfectly molded for show. With me now, barely treading in swells of shoved feelings. With me growing, burning inward, fragile like a bomb, a treacherous path. These dishes balanced on ends, the then now growing meas, trying not to let any break hopes of reconciling myself with myself and myself not blowing up who I was as she is me as much as I am now. The Souljourner question Do you know who my favorite cartoon bear is? I bet you would think it's a care bear, because I'm the sole sanity bear. But it's actually Winnie the Pooh. Wait a minute, now I have to think about my whole analogy. Anyway A Milne, creator of Winnie the Pooh, was a master at incorporating Taoism, the principle of Wu Wei, into all of his books. What is Wu Wei? Well, according to an article on shortform.com by Rena Shaw, with Wu Wei, you simply let things happen in the way the natural order dictates, and they work out whatever way they need to. You may disagree or dislike the result, and feel disappointed or resentful at the time, but in hindsight, you will likely realize the necessary path life took in that moment for you to be where you are, doing what you're doing in the present. In short, Wu Wei is the art of allowing life to live itself, and it's something that could have alleviated years of suffering in my life, especially during the time of today's story. The sojourner question for you Over the next week, every time something happens or someone says something to you that rubs you the wrong way, can you say to yourself Okay Saying that will send the message to your body that you are allowing what happened to happen. And note how you feel. Lather, rinse, repeat. I would love to know what your experience is. And a quote from Winnie the Pooh. Rivers know this. There is no hurry. We shall get there someday. And if you are interested in more about the wisdom of Winnie the Pooh, try the Tao that's T A O of Pooh on Amazon. It's a great little read. And if you missed my interview about courageousness being out of the closet and hot dogs last week, just go to Heidiester.com forward slash featured hyphen in and check it out. Last, if you know someone who would like some mindfulness with a funny bone directly sent to their inbox every week, can you forward this message to them? I'd really appreciate it. Or podcast, of course. Well, that's it for me. Until next week, I'm Heidi Esther sending you love, like, and laughter.