Sonya Elliott

Back on the Court

AUTHOR & BASKETBALL FANATIC

PEN TO PAPER: The Trash Can Is Your Friend

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Do you ever think, my writing sucks!

Well, you’re not the only one. I think we all feel that way from time to time, I know I do. And sometimes my writing does suck, and that’s okay. You can’t expect your writing to always be perfect, or even good. It is all part of the process of getting better.

I love the quote, “The Trash Can Is Your Friend,” by Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid’s Tale, because it gives you the go ahead to give up. I don’t mean on your writing, I’m the queen of never giving up when it comes to writing and life, but there are times when what we’ve written, is just there to get us better. It’s our practice.

And just like any other practice, (let me use basketball as an example since it’s my other love), it’s not always perfect. There were practice days, as both a coach and a player, when I was grateful that it wasn’t a game day. Days that were terrible. But you know what? I still learned from those days. Just like you learn from all the hours that you put into writing.

Sometimes our writing just needs editing (actually it always needs editing), and sometimes a piece of work should just be tossed into the trash (like the first two chapters of my novel).

Trash can or not, each minute spent writing means you’re one step closer to being the writer that you want to be.

WRITING PROMPT 1: Write TRASH at the top of the page and start writing.

WRITING PROMPT 2: Take a piece of writing that you are not happy with, toss it in the trashcan and start on something new.

WRITING PROMPT 3: Jacob walked down the alley, kick over the trash can and…

 

PEN TO PAPER: Animal Inspiration

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Today’s writing prompt is an easy one. It’s about animals. Do you have a favorite animal? A favorite pet? Maybe you love going to the zoo and watching the giant hippos glide through the water and then plod across the shore, maybe you are inspired by the graceful neck of the giraffe. Maybe you don’t know what you’d do without your pet tabby cat that you rescued when Covid hit or maybe you are attracted to a dog that sheds non-stop, farts more than your husband and slobbers on your pants every time he walks away from his water bowl and sets his jowls on your thigh. Or maybe you are not a fan of animals at all. Whatever the case, animals can be great writing inspiration.

Pick one or more prompts and let your pen and mind get to work. Write on!

WRITING PROMPT 1: Write about your favorite, or least favorite, animal. Think about why you chose this animal. Maybe there is even more for you to write about?

WRITING PROMPT 2: Choose an animal and then write for a bit from their point of view.

WRITING PROMPT 3: Cassandra opened the door and called for Casper again. It wasn’t like him to…

PEN TO PAPER: New Year’s Goals

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I’ve never been one to set New Year’s resolutions, but I am a goal-setter, which I suppose isn’t so different. I guess my tendency to shy away from New Year’s resolutions comes from my long held belief that they are unsuccessful. In fact, a quick Google search on history.com confirmed my thinking, while as many as forty-five percent of Americans say they usually make New Year’s resolutions, only eight percent are successful in achieving their goals.

Still, setting goals gives you long-term vision and short-term motivation, so if a New Year’s resolution does that for you, go for it. Or if you’re like me, don’t put so much pressure on yourself and simply call them goals, that happen to take place at the beginning of the year.

Many wishes for a healthy and happy New Year! Write on!

WRITING PROMPT 1: Write down your writing goals for this year

WRITING PROMPT 2: Write about what you are looking forward to in 2021

WRITING PROMPT 3: Olivia pondered her New Year’s resolutions, then she…

PEN TO PAPER: Be Present, Connect & Listen

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Last Thursday when my friend Jenny and I did our freewrite, we chose three words from her Anchored Card Deck. The words were Presence, Connect and Listen. My fingers flew across the keys, what powerful words to focus on during the holidays, and especially during a pandemic.

It can be difficult to be present. With bills and work, and these days the constant worry about everyone’s health, stress levels are high. And my to-do list seems to get longer everyday. But, this is also when I use my past, my history with loss, to remind myself to slow down, to be present. If you’ve lost people you love, you know what I’m talking about.

Sometimes I have to have a little conversation with myself. Sonya, who cares if the house is a messy, hang out with your son, he will be back at college soon. Enjoy walks with your husband and watching basketball when there are dishes in the sink. Forget about the other stuff, be truly present.

Yes, presence is worth writing about and thinking about and doing.

And who doesn’t need to connect right now? Most of us are living within our bubbles, working to keep others safe. So for ourselves, and others, we need to look at how we can connect with our friends and loved ones, and maybe even people who we don’t know as well. Set up a zoom meeting, text or just pick up the phone and call. These are difficult times, look at how you can connect.

Listen. Ah, what a word (And it fits so well with the other two). A reminder to listen, just listen. Listen to your spouse, listen to your friends, listen to your kids, listen to the teller at the grocery store, listen to your favorite music, and listen to the rain on your rooftop. There is so much to the word. A perfect word for writing inspiration.

When pulling cards from the deck of inspirational words, Jenny often says that you pull the words you need most (even if you don’t realize it at the time). I can tell you one thing. These three words were not only great as a writing prompt, they were definitely ones that I needed to be reminded of.

Try putting these words to work with the writing prompts below, and think about how they can enrich your life as well… Presence, Connect and Listen.

WRITING PROMPT 1: Use one or all these words, and start writing. Presence. Connect. Listen.

WRITING PROMPT 2: incorporate presence, connect and listen into a poem

WRITING PROMPT 3: With his airbuds jammed into his ears and the hood of his black AC/DC hoodie drooped across his forehead, nearly covering his eyes, Adam sat in the corner…

PEN TO PAPER: Food For Thought

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I love food. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just good. Still, as I write this blog I realize that I’m known to take pictures of my food. Do I just want to remember how good it was? Do I want a picture to remind me of that time and the experience? I’m not sure, but I do know that food is a huge part our lives and that’s why it can be a great starting point for writing.

Our meals not only give us nutrients but they become a bigger part of our lives in different ways. For some people, one of the best parts of a meal is putting it all together. I enjoy cooking, but I certainly don’t love it. My friend Kathy, on the other hand, loves to cook and bake (Instagram @lick.the.plate). She baked the beautiful Bolo Polana cake in the photo above (Recipe from “In Bibi’s Kitchen” by Hawa Hassan and Julia Turshen). I’m inspired by all the amazing food and drink recipes she makes and shares. I’ve made several and have a list going for future endeavors.

Along with cooking the food, there’s the savoring of it. How it touches our senses as well as our hearts and souls. Past meals bring memories of sadness, laughter and pure joy. Meals are a part of us and make us who we are. Think about the foods that you love. Does a ripe mango make your mouth water or do you dream of fillet mignon? What are some of the best meals that you’ve experienced? Are they quiet meals alone or have they been giant spreads shared with extended family and friends? Consider your meals and your relationship with food and then put your pen to paper, and go!

WRITING PROMPT 1: Write about your favorite, or least favorite, meal. Describe how the meal looks, tastes, smells. Where were you? Who else was there? How did the food, the environment make you feel?

WRITING PROMPT 2: What does food means to you?

WRITING PROMPT 3: Louisa set down her fork and…

Photo credit: @lick.the.plate – recipe from “In Bibi’s Kitchen” by @hawahassan and @turshen

 

PEN TO PAPER:  Mining Memories

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When I was working on my memoir Back On The Court: A Young Woman’s Triumphant Return To Life, Love & Basketball, parts of my life that I had forgotten, came back to me while I was writing. For example, while writing a scene that took place in my roof top studio apartment near Green Lake, I was transported back to that time and place, and then remembered talking to my mom about getting engaged that day. I had totally forgotten about the conversation, but the memory just moved through my fingers and onto the page.

It’s interesting how the mind works. How it store memories, good and sometimes a little scary, in its nooks and crannies. Below are a few simple writing prompts to work from, to see what you might discover. Fiction or nonfiction, let your mind have some fun.

WRITING PROMPT 1: I don’t remember when…

WRITING PROMPT 2: I forgot…

WRITING PROMPT 3: Tanner relaxed on the bed, closed his eyes and let his mind wander until…

 

PEN TO PAPER: Plotter vs Pantser

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Have you heard of Plotters and Pantsers? Well, I’m a Pantser, with a touch of Plotter. A Pantser is a writer who flies by the seat of their pants, just sits down and writes without much detailed planning. A Plotter is a writer who plans out their novel before they start writing it. Most people fit more into one category, but really both processes take place during the writing of a novel.

For example if you’re a Pantser, you normally have at least a vague idea of where you’re going before you start. With my current novel, I was driving home from a writing conference when the concept came to me. I imagined the storyline, and made a storyboard with pictures that I cut from magazines and pasted along a timeline, to help me see where the story was going. So you might call this some minimal planning, but when I started the novel, I just sat down and wrote, unsure of where it would take me.

Now that I’m nearing the end of the book, I’m starting to look at what’s missing and am beginning to weave bits and pieces back into the writing. Last week I decided to make changes to the first chapter, so I went back and edited and edited and edited. Now I need to make adjustments throughout the book. It’s the first draft, so it’s simply part of the process. I worked this way when I wrote my memoir too. Of course I had a basic understanding of what was going to happen in the story, it was a memoir after all, but there were a lot of different directions that I could have gone, so it took a lot of writing and editing and reworking to get the story the way I wanted it.

When I’m writing, I see the story happening like a movie in my mind, but the details don’t always make it onto the page. My finger’s don’t seem to be fast enough to keep up with the story that is traveling through my head. In my novel, what I missed in world building and character development the first time through, is getting filled in during edits. And in both my memoir and my current novel, I eventually cut the first few chapters and the books started in totally different places than I first envisioned. As a Pantser, the writing process needs to be fluid.

If you’re a Plotter, you know what direction you’re going. You have a detailed plan. You’ve charted out plotlines, developed characters and designed and built the world where your novel will happen. Still, once it’s time to write the novel, Plotters are Pantsers too, because when they sit down to write, they have to do just that, write. And whether your book is all planned out or not, when the writing actually begins, all kinds of ideas and twists and turns take place that you may never have expected. So even most Plotters allow themselves to go down side roads along the way, because that’s when the magic happens.

In the end, it doesn’t matter if you’re a Plotter or a Pantser, what’s important is to simply write.

WRITING PROMPT 1: If you’re a Pantser, take a few minutes to look closer at where your book is going as far as the storyline and plot, or write a character sketch of one of your main characters. If you’re a Plotter, just sit your butt down and write and see what happens.

WRITING PROMPT 2: Can being a Plotter or a Pantser help you in your daily life? Maybe writing down more goals (Plotter) or being more spontaneous (Pantser). Write about it.

WRITING PROMPT 3: Lilly never broke the rules, and she was afraid of heights, so as she stepped to the cliff’s edge, where she was now trespassing on the Anderson’s property, and looked to the water below she…

PEN TO PAPER: Audio Inspiration

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I’ve been re-reading, or should I say listening to, my favorite books on writing. When I take my pup on his daily walk I put in my new AirPods  (No more fighting with my tangled ear buds as I head out the door), load my audio book and go. While I stroll the sidewalks, the red and orange leaves that scatter my path help transport the words and their inspiration into my mind. Thoughts on how to establish a more consistant writing schedule, how I might make adjustments to a character, and even thoughts on a new twist for my ending, drift around in my head. I always walk away with new tidbits to chew on.

I’ve got three books going at the same time right now (probably not a great idea, but they’re all quite different), so I just continue on with whichever I’m in the mood for that day. One that I love is On Writing by Stephen King (I’m not into horror novels, but I totally connect to King’s thoughts on writing). I’m also listening to Save The Cat by Jessica Brody, which is helpful to me because I’m not a planner, I don’t start with a tight structure in mind. I started my novel with an overarching idea, wrote a lot of scenes and then brought them together. Her book is helping me, by getting me to look closer at the structure. And the third audio book that I have going is This Year You Write Your Novel by Walter Mosley. It’s got me putting my butt down in front of my computer more; hence my novel is into its final chapters.

I plan on listening to the rest of the books from my list throughout 2020. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve read some of them but I’ve kept them around in paperback for a reason. They inspire me. I hope you find inspiration in some of them as well, and I would love to hear about writing books that you might recommend.

Write On!

WRITING PROMPT 1: Write for 5 minutes on how you will commit to your writing.

WRITING PROMPT 2: Candice set her book, If You Want To Write, on her milkcrate side table and…

Books On Writing

PEN TO PAPER: Deep Kindness

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I recently read the book Deep Kindness by Houston Kraft. It made me think about my life and how I can be more kind. It made me look at what real kindness means and how it can effect others and the world. What a great concept to write about…

WRITING PROMPT #1: What was the last kind thing that you did? Write about it. How did it make you feel?

WRITING PROMPT #2: Put the word KINDNESS at the top of a blank page. Start writing.

WRITING PROMPT #3: The second Daniel sat down at his desk something was wrong. Every morning for five years now, a note from Ellie had greeted him. The swirly heart dotting the “i” in her signature always made him smile, but this morning there was nothing. Daniel looked around the room and…

PEN TO PAPER: Missing You

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With Covid-19, many of us can’t be with the people we love. And if we do get to see them, we need to be careful. My daughter is safe in Taiwan, but she is far away. And I’ve only seen my parent’s twice in the last eight months, at a distance. Today’s wiritng prompt is for those who we miss. It can be kept to yourself, or better yet, mail it.

WRITING PROMPT: Write a letter to someone you miss right now.

PEN TO PAPER: Costume Craze

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Halloween is my husbands favorite holiday. I don’t love it like he does, but I do love putting together costumes. We don’t usually decide what to wear until the day of Halloween, but we always pull something together from costume filled boxes that take up most our storage space. Some are nice costumes from when my parent’s used to go to Fasching (German Masquerade Ball). My mom always made some great ones and they have been passed down to us. The rest of the items we have collected from Goodwills over the years. It’s just a matter of using our imagination, pulling things together and hitting a vintage or resale store to add some new punch.

Our Elvis costume (that I whipped together in one day twenty-five years ago) has seen better days but it still gets used from time to time, we’ve got 60’s, 70’s & 80’s covered with random vests, wigs, bell bottom pants, blazers and miscellaneous sundries. We even have a pair of my parachute pants. We’ve got sports jerseys, cowboy hats, UPS uniforms, and more. Enough to pull something together on the fly. Covid has put a dent into our usual fun, but my husband already said that he invited the neighbors to dress up and meet us on the front patio for a drink. I said I was in, now…what to wear?

What have been some of your favorite costumes? 

PROMPT #1: Write about something that scares you.

PROMPT #2: Write about your favorite costume or one you’d like to wear.

PROMPT #3: Caden wasn’t about to wear a costume unless…

PEN TO PAPER: VOTE!

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The election is coming up quick, so I am writing this blog to encourage people to vote. If you read my blog you know that I am concerned about women’s rights and equal rights, I am pro-choice, I believe in science and I am deeply concerned about the environment, so my vote goes to Joe Biden. Most of you have already decided who you will vote for in this election, but if you are on the fence, I’ve included a chart of news sources and links to check out, because getting your voice heard is important, and being informed from a broad base of news sources is equally important. It doesn’t matter whether you are democrat or republican, what matters is that we bring the nation together. Young, old, white, black, women, men, Buddhist, Catholic, gay, straight, and everything in between. We are all people.

When I was young I wasn’t the best about voting. I did believe that it was important to vote for who you believed in and what they represented, not a specific party, because that’s how my mom voted. My dad is an Austrian citizen so he can’t vote. (FYI: He does pay taxes). But it wasn’t until I was older, and started to care about my local community and schools, that I truly understood how important it was to vote.

This election my daughter sent her absentee ballot from Taiwan and my son registered so he could be heard, and I hope many more are doing the same because this is an important election. Women’s rights and equal rights are at stake. And I want future generations to be able to enjoy this beautiful planet, so I worry about what will be left of this earth if leaders don’t work together to make changes to slow climate change. I want the United States to be a safe place, where we can all have peaceful lives. Instead the president ignores science and continues to embolden hate groups and tweets mean lies about anyone and everyone (Most people would be fired from the tweets he is making). When I was coaching I used to tell the girls, you don’t have to be best friends, but if we can all learn to appreciate and respect one another, we can build a strong team. That is what we need to do as a nation, work together.

If you are undecided take time to research and think about what the future looks like, not only for yourself, but future generations and…make a plan to vote.

PROMPT #1: The perfect president is…

PROMPT #2: What would a perfect world look like?

PROMPT #3: Blake’s back was tacky and he wiped a drop of sweat from the edge of his baseball cap as he stepped into the voting booth…

 

AP News

BBC

NPR

REUTERS

USA TODAY

PEN TO PAPER: Reboot

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I used to post a pen to paper, that included a writing prompt, every Monday. It was always a good way for me to kickstart my writing for the week, so I’ve decided to go back to that routine.  If you’re a writer please join me. If you’re not a writer, you can join me too. It can be fun to ponder writing prompts even if you don’t have time to write (though it only take 5-10 mins).

I like to give a couple of prompts, but if the prompts I give don’t spark your interest, feel free to use your own. Or if you can’t decide, my friend Jenny and I often grab the nearest book, open it up and set our finger on the page and go with the closest word or phrase. The key is to simpy write.

Write on!

WRITING PROMPT #1: What does reboot mean to you? 

WRITING PROMPT #2: Write about a time that you truly felt the most alive.

WRITING PROMPT #3: Sandra set down her computer, picked up her pen and…

PEACELOVEBASKETBALL: Can I Play? Dreaming In The Wave Of Title IX

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The recent loss of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has left me heartbroken. I didn’t have a personal connection to her, but what I know of her, I love, and I am grateful for how she fought for women’s rights and equal rights.

It is because of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg (and many other strong women before my time), that I have the right to vote, that I have access to birth control, that I was able to get a credit card before I was married and that, if I want, I can buy a house without my husband’s signature, to name a few.

And of course there’s Title IX (which bans sex discrimination and sexual harassment in federally subsidized educational programs, including athletics). This 1972 Education Amendment is what opened up doors for me to play the sport I love at the next level and get a better education, and for that I am grateful. Had I been in school a few years earlier, before Title IX, things may have been different.

Can I Play? Dreaming In The Wave Of Title IX is an article I published several years ago about how lucky I was to grow up after Title IX was enacted, and how it allowed me to pursue my dream of playing college basketball.

Can I Play? Dreaming In The Wave of Title IX by Sonya Elliott

“Mom, I want to play basketball,” I said as I watched the boys move up and down the court, dribbling around each other in an effort to get to the hoop. I was seven at the time.

My mom peered at me through the bottom of her glasses and explained, “They don’t have basketball for girls your age, Sonya.” But when I narrowed my eyes and huffed, she gave me an exaggerated wink and said, “That doesn’t mean you can’t play.”

Not long after, my dad took an old railroad tie from our landscaping, hoisted it vertically and cemented it into the ground, before attaching a wooden backboard and hoop so my brother and I could toss a basketball around with the kids in the neighborhood. Our two-handed toss was the beginning of my love affair with the game. Now at the age of forty-nine, I still play basketball and have spent more than twenty years coaching the game. I’ve seen many changes take place in the sport over my lifetime. Changes, that thanks to Title IX, opened doors for me, and other young women, to follow their dreams.

I was raised to believe that women are as capable as men, so it wasn’t until I started school that I understood the inequalities girls faced, and it wasn’t until I was an adult that I could fully comprehend how lucky I was to be raised during the years of Title IX. Since Congress enacted Title IX in 1972, opportunities in sports for girls have skyrocketed. According to the Women’s Sports Foundation, in 1972 (when I was six), just one in twenty-seven girls participated in high school sports; today, about two in five participate and the number of women playing at the college level has increased by more than 600 percent. Because of Title IX, which bans sex discrimination and sexual harassment in federally subsidized educational programs, including athletics, there are more athletic scholarships for women and opportunities to participate in sports and to learn from the game than ever before.

Back when I was in elementary school in Montana, I was taught 6-on-6 basketball, a game where each team has three offensive players and three defensive players on each half of the court. I didn’t know that 6-on-6 had been put into women’s play back in 1899, by the Women’s Basketball Rule Committee, because the committee believed the game of basketball was too rough for girls, I thought 6-on-6 was the way everyone played the game. And it wasn’t until I went to a men’s game at the University of Montana that I saw 5-on-5 basketball, real basketball. It looked like so much fun to run the full court and play both offense and defense and I was shocked to learn that girls weren’t allowed to play this way, even at the college level in some states. I wanted to play real basketball, and fortunately by the time I went to middle school, I got the chance. Although it wouldn’t be until years later (Oklahoma was the last state to change in 1995), that girls across America would all get to play real basketball. Playing full court 5-on-5 was so much more fun than waiting on one end of the court for the action to return. My middle school coaches made our girls team work hard, they didn’t believe in the pre-Title IX perception that girls were weak, so our team was strong. We lost just one game in three years.

In high school I held my own as a small, small forward, weighing in at a whopping one hundred twelve pounds and five foot seven inches tall. I played aggressive defense, guarding players twice my size, bumping them out of position as they cut, fighting them down low when they tried to post me up and blocking them off of the boards. It was my toughness, that thing that girls were not supposed to have, that me made me a good player. And because I love the game so much I put in extra hours shooting and working on ball handling and started to become one of the top basketball players in Spokane, Washington. I wanted to play at the next level, and although I was probably quite naïve at the time, I was certain I could get a scholarship. I attended summer camps and played on an AAU team that was put together by a coach in the area. I honed my skills, and by the end of my junior year, I was the second leading scorer in the Greater Spokane League, averaging over 17 points a game.

As spring hit, our AAU team, the Spokane All-Stars, gathered the top basketball players from Washington and Idaho and became a powerhouse. And after we played in the National AAU Tournament, I started to receive letters of interest from college basketball programs across the United States. I was getting letters from Washington to Southwest Louisiana, and was flatter that they and others like Oregon, Stanford and Columbia were considering me for their teams. All of the athletically talented girls who I’d known who had graduated prior to my senior year, either didn’t play sports in college or if they did, their college coach found them campus work to help pay for school, they didn’t receive athletic scholarships. It wasn’t until my senior year that I watched several of my AAU teammates get recruited and get their college education paid for.

I personally had my heart set on playing for the University of Montana. It was my grandpa’s alma mater, and although I moved to Washington as a girl, I had grown up watching Griz basketball. After my junior year I traveled to the U of M’s camp and had been voted Co-MVP. We kept in contact and I turned down other college visits knowing I was going to be a Grizzly. But a scholarship offer never came, and when I called the coach, I was stunned to hear that they’d used them all. There was no money left for me.

I was devastated. Looking back I wish I’d done things differently, explored my options more thoroughly and given myself the best opportunity to get a scholarship, but I would never want to change how things turned out. I scrambled, followed up with schools that had contacted me over my senior year and ended up playing on scholarship at Eastern Washington University. I got lucky.

There is nothing like stepping on a college court to play the game you love. And even though it made me mad that at times the women’s teams played in an old gym with dirty floors and missing light bulbs while the men played in a new college sports complex, my anger at such obvious inequality was damped by my thankfulness to just be on the court. To this day, things are not perfect. When I took over as the head coach of a girl’s high school basketball program in Seattle in 2010, I started with four dollars, four uniforms and a locker room that had been used as a dumping ground, but despite these inequities that still occur, we have come a long way from my six-on-six playing days. There are more girls’ teams, there are more athletic scholarships, and there are opportunities for women to play basketball overseas and in the WNBA after college.

When I watch a girl’s game from the bleachers now, I am often brought to tears. Not because I miss being on the court as a player or as a coach, but because, thanks to Title IX and the changes that have happened in women’s sports since I was first tossing a ball at a battered hoop in my driveway, this game that I love will have more impact than ever before on the lives of young women and they will no longer have to hear, “They don’t have basketball for girls.”

Instead they will hear, “Yes! Yes you can play.”

 

PEN TO PAPER: Wants & Needs

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There’s a feeling in my soul right now that has inspired me to blog again. Maybe I’m working through anger and frustration about what is happening in the world with the pandemic, the coming election and the onset of fires across the west coast. Or perhaps it’s simply the fact that I’m at home a lot these days. Whatever the case, I’m finally doing more writing. And I like it.

I haven’t felt such a strong urge to write for a while. Not like this. Other than my Thursday’s with Jenny, my writing time has been more of a grind. Sonya, you should work on your book. Sonya you should blog. I want to finish my book, so I sit down and write and rewrite and write some more, and I’m always glad that I do, but it’s been hard.

I love the feeling that I have right now, where I can’t think of much else, so I’m taking advantage of the fire in my belly and getting to work. It’s a little bit of a problem because it’s been keeping me up at night as my mind whirls with ideas, but honestly, I prefer it this way. The urge to write is always inside me, it’s just hidden at times, but when it surfaces like this, it reminds me that not only do I want to write, I need to write.

Set your goals and work like a turtle if you need to, in order to reach those goals, and when you feel the urge to write, take advantage of every minute and write on!

WRITING PROMPT #1: What are your wants & needs? Or simply put WANTS & NEEDS at the top of a blank page and start writing and see where it takes you.

WRITING PROMPT #2: She had a fire in her belly…

 

 

PEN TO PAPER: Life

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I write every Thurday with my friend Jenny. We used to always start with a freewrite, where we would choose a prompt and then write continuously for a few minutes, not worrying about spelling or grammar or content, just simply writing what ever came through our fingers and onto the page. Last week, after a few minutes of meditation (a more recent addition to our Thursdays), we decided to re-introduce the freewrite. We opted for “Life” in poetry, and started writing. When we were done, we read to one another and breathed…we needed that.

The freewrite has been added back into our writing routine.

If you’re a writer, maybe it’s time to try another freewrite. If you’re not a writer, give it a shot, you never know what will happen. You don’t have to read it to anyone. You can simply keep it to yourself or toss it away, but the process of letting thoughts out, letting them ramble around on a page, whether they make sense or not, can be valuable, if only as a way to vent and find room for your mind to focus.

With my daughter in Asia near the Coronavirus, several deadly shooting in the Seattle area, non-stop rain and the state of our nation, it felt good to bring my feelings together on the page. I’m no poet, but who cares. My poem found it’s way to what’s important, focusing on the good in life.

 

Life

Grey skies

Fire

Heat

Congressional smoke and mirrors

Maps

Red dots

A virus gone wild

Death

Fallen bodies

Where I once walked the runway

Fear spreads

Is this the Apocalypse?

Breathe

Think outside yourself

Give

Find the sunshine

Live

 

WRITING PROMPT: If your not sure where to start, grab a pen or your computer and try writing a poem about life, as we did, or if that doesn’t float your boat, simply open a book, put your finger on the page and write about the word or picture that your finger lands on (or for more ideas try out my past Pen to Paper writing blogs).

Write On!

 

 

 

 

PEN TO PAPER: Writing To Save My Life

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Several years ago I wrote an article about how writing literally saved my life after my fiancé was killed and I felt as if life wasn’t worth living. I never published the piece, but I hand it out when I speak to grief support groups, hoping that my experience with recovery will inspire others who are struggling. And now, I hope that by sharing it here, it will find it’s way to those in need…

 

“Writing to Save My Life”

Sonya G. Elliott

I wouldn’t have thought it could happen. Getting hit by a train and losing my fiancé just days before our wedding for one, but actually recovering from such a thing seems altogether unbelievable, even a miracle. And, of course, the fact that I survived was a miracle to my family and friends, but for me it was a death sentence that left me alone and struggling to go on with life. Had it not been for my journal, my writing, I may never have found my way.

I had played basketball for the Eastern Washington University Screamin’ Eagles from 1984 to 1988, then after graduating I moved to Seattle where I began working as a fashion model. Not the typical career choice for an athlete and honor student, but I had been a walking contradiction since I was a child, when I sat alone in the tall grass picking clovers and then quietly pushed myself to a stand and began walking for the first time. In high school I was the jock that sang solos in choir and did my homework. (I thought of myself as a well-rounded person, my classmates called me a nerd.) When I met Mark, I was still living a life of contradiction. I’d spend afternoons sashaying down the runway with my long blond hair piled high upon my head, then I’d rush home to scour the dark lining from my eyes and the red from my lips, and hurry to the nearest open gym to play basketball.

When I first saw Mark, I was running my fingers impatiently over my soft leather basketball waiting to play in the next game at Shoreline community center.My stomach fluttered as I watched him move swiftly around his defender with a hesitation dribble, and take the ball to the hoop. Laying the ball gently against the backboard, he made a quick pivot as the ball dropped through the net and then sprinted down on defense. A smile flickered on his lips. I held the ball tight in my hands. My mind was no longer on basketball.

I hadn’t really noticed a man since my boyfriend and I broke up three months earlier. But Mark, with his strong build, thick dark hair and smiling emerald eyes, had an unguarded confidence that demanded my full attention. As he glided effortlessly up and down the court, he hypnotized me with his command of the game. When I stepped onto the court to play against him, Mark was wearing a white cotton t-shirt with a blue Nike across the chest, and on his face he was wearing a broad smile.

“I’ve got her,” he said, bringing his lips together and looking me in the eye.

Playing basketball against a man tells me more about him than any date. I got to know the real Mark that afternoon. He didn’t give me a break. He took me to the hoop, crashed the boards, and stole my passes. He used his body to move me out of the way and get loose balls, and then he’d flash me a smile. Mark captured my heart with his intensity and teamwork each time down the court and my admiration was deepened by the chance to be near him. His unmistakable masculine scent was enhanced by the warmth of his body and became permanently ingrained in my mind as we moved on the court together.  I craved it like chocolate. I wished the game would never end.

When it did, Mark asked me to dinner and a Sonics game. Three months later we were engaged to be married. Basketball had been my life; now there was something better to live for, Mark. Inseparable, Mark and I mapped out our future. Our wedding, our home, our family and our life together. On our way home from our last wedding shower, eight months after our first date, the car that Mark and I were driving was hit by a train.

***

GAUBINGER IN INTENSIVE CARE

Gaubinger, Former University High School and Eastern Washington basketball player, remains in intensive care at Deaconess Medical Center with injuries sustained Sunday in a car-train accident near Ritzville.

Gaubinger, 25, was a passenger in a car driven by her fiancé, Mark Overholt, that was struck by a Burlington Northern train at a crossing on Snyder Road.  She was thrown through the rear window and suffered multiple fractures and a punctured lung.  She underwent six hours of surgery on Sunday.

Overholt, 25, died from internal injures at the site of the crash.

The article from the Spokesman Review detailed the obvious; what it couldn’t tell was the real story. By the time my parents rolled me out of the hospital in a wheelchair two weeks later, my broken body and mind had withered away. I couldn’t walk, let alone play basketball or strut down a runway. All I could do was cry and think of Mark. Mark and the future we had lost. The home, the children, the life we had foreseen was gone. I was a 25-year-old unofficial widow, drowning in sorrow. I had no reason to live.

But I lived. As much as I hated it, as each day passed, I lived. However, I lived with my parents, not my husband. I slept in a hospital bed in my parents’ living room. They cared for me, fed me, and bathed me. They wheeled me from room to room. The home’s circular path – dining room, kitchen, living room, bathroom, where I once chased my brother and dogs – now became my path of grief. While traveling this path of grief, my tears wore their own salty paths. Without my wanting or knowing, with the drop of each tear, my journey of recovery began.

I spent most days in Dad’s La-Z-Boy watching vivid memories of Mark play over and over in my mind. My mom was unsure of what to say or do to help make things better for me.  When she asked if she could help, “No” was my reply. Then a day came when she didn’t ask. Instead she pulled out a small book, with blue and white floral fabric for the cover, and rested it gently in my lap. It was a journal.

“I hope you’ll try writing in it,” she said cautiously. “Remember, the counselor thought it might be a good idea.”

I looked at the journal. Skeptical. Unsure if I could write at all, but more so, unsure if I dared follow the feelings deep in my heart. I set the journal aside.

“Thanks Mom,” I said, with no intent of ever dirtying the journal’s soft white pages.I was still hoping this was all a nightmare, that I might awake one day and have my life with Mark again.

More than a month after the accident, after Mark had died, and after getting rid of the contraption in the dining room that doubled as my bed, I moved to my old high school bedroom. The first night that my dad wheeled me in to go to bed, I noticed the floral journal across the room and asked dad to wheel me to the desk and get me a pen. Dad returned with a blue Bic and gave me a goodnight kiss. The scent of pine followed him out the door and when the door was closed, I reached for the pen. Gripping the pen awkwardly with my weakened hand, I was barely able to hold the journal in place while dragging the pen across the page with my broken limb. But once I began to write, all the pain I’d held inside flooded the pages. I wrote the obvious. I wrote the unthinkable. And as tears streamed down my face, I wrote to save my life.

The truth was out. It was in writing. Mark was dead and my life was over. How could I live without him? That was a question that couldn’t be answered, couldn’t be faced; instead it was the writing and the motion of life itself that kept me moving moment by moment, day by day, in the direction of change. Swimming through a pool of vivid memories that flooded my mind, I lived in the past, as my life moved forward. But I wasn’t ready to let go of the memories, to let go of Mark. I couldn’t say goodbye. Instead, as day turned to night and I was wheeled to my childhood desk, I grabbed my pen and left my heart on the page. I wrote of the pain in my heart and I wrote to Mark to keep him a part of my life.

Days became weeks. My wheelchair, left in the corner for long excursions, was replaced by a quad-cane. I walked to my desk under my own power. I continued to write. The pain in my heart wouldn’t stop, nor would my crying. I wrote about my pain. Then I wrote about Mark. I started a list that had everything about Mark that I could remember. The list grew quickly, but it seemed stale and empty. My words couldn’t emulate the vibrancy that was so much a part of each story found on the list. But once I realized this list was the only way each beautiful moment with Mark could be remembered and forever replayed in my mind, I made myself continue to write.

In time I exchanged the quad cane for a cane. I moved more quickly and with less pain. My scars faded. And with that shift came a new reality that I struggled with daily. How would I live without Mark? No longer did I write, I cannot live without Mark, but instead asked, how will I live without Mark? A subtle shift, gone unseen by me at the time, but a shift all the same, that kept me moving forward. As I wrote of the pain, and allowed that part of me to escape, new words hit the pages that began to fill the emptiness in my heart with hope.

I said goodbye to my cane and my parents. I found a job as an apartment manager which allowed me to live alone. I modeled for clients who were willing to work around my scars. Life had possibilities. Not of happiness, of course, that was out of the question, but of living. And part of living now was writing. When I wrote, the pages were still left wet with tears. Each time I set down my journal, the writing had pushed me forward and pushed me to live.

I began dribbling a basketball. My arm hung by my side like a stroke victim’s but I dribbled the ball. It was like being seven again. An awkward seven learning a new skill, and with that “new skill” came feeling of accomplishment. I wrote in my journal, I will play basketball again. Life continued to move forward.

I filled a second journal quickly. People were surprised by how well I was coping but my journal held the truth, the pain and the loneliness. All the things I didn’t dare let go in public for fear the tears would never stop. I was walking the road of grief and it was hard.

Eight months after the accident, a friend of Mark’s invited me to watch his high school baseball team play.  “You’ve gotta see this one kid. He looks just like Mark,” he said. I went to the game. I wasn’t sure how well I could handle seeing someone that looked like Mark, but I took a chance. And when I saw the right fielder flash Mark’s smile, it was like seeing just a small piece of Mark, and it was worth it.

Near the end of the game, an opposing batter swung at a pitch and sent a foul tip flying up behind the catcher.  The catcher whipped his mask off and spun around in search of the ball.  I stared in surprise. The catcher looked just like Jason. I had met Jason in college. We were both athletes and ran into one another frequently in the corridors of the athletic pavilion. We had been close friends in college but I hadn’t seen him in years.

I thought of Jason. And because of it, I suffered. Thinking of another man weighed on my soul. And then there came a moment when I did the unthinkable, a moment when there was a lull in my guilt, and I called Jason. Talking to him was like talking to my best friend.  Weeks passed, we spoke on the phone often, until I agreed to meet for lunch. I kept Jason a secret, afraid of what family and friends might think. But slowly, without pressure or promise, our relationship grew. And as I worked through my grief and guilt, and filled more pages of my journal with writing and tears, we became a couple.

Something I believed could never happen, did happen. I had met a man who was so warm and caring that I began to hope I might find love again. And as I made journal entries, happy times that I shared with Jason appeared on the pages mixed with painful memories of Mark. When I struggled with the guilt, guilt that I had survived, guilt that I was beginning to enjoy my life again, and guilt for having feelings for another man, I turned to writing even more. And as I soaked more pages of my journal with tears, my heavy heart lifted until I began dreaming of a future, a future with Jason.

The night Jason and I entered the cemetery, hand in hand, moonlight broke through the darkness just enough so that we could read the flat tombstones that led like a garden path to Mark’s grave. We walked in silence, and then came to a stop at the spot where Mark lay deep in the ground. Tears filled my lower lids. My grip on Jason’s hand tightened. Then I knelt to the ground and placed roses in Mark’s vase. Jason knelt down next to me, and we stayed that way for a long time before we moved on to our backs. Lying side by side on Mark’s grave, our hands intertwined, we gazed into the star-filled sky.

“What was Mark like?” Jason asked. I took a long deep breath and then let it escape, unsure of how I should answer. Then I gave a lengthy answer no new boyfriend or lover would want to hear.  An uncensored description of the man I had loved so dearly and, after this night, a man to whom I would finally have to say good-bye. Jason asked about Mark until the night grew cold and the closeness of our bodies could no longer keep us warm. The stories spilled out, one by one, finally giving way to my pent-up sorrow.  Jason pulled me in against his chest and held me while I cried. Though my relationship with Jason may have come too soon and at a time that was difficult for us both, I had found another man who loved me, and now I needed to slowly let go of the past and find a way to return that love.

It was my writing that allowed me to do that. I had waded through layers of sadness and guilt each time I wrote, forging a road to happiness and to a new life with Jason. On November 8th, 1993, I wrote in my journal, and with my writing, I spoke to Mark.

 It wasn’t until just now, when I wrote the date, that I realized that two years ago Mark and I were to be married.  It came as a shock to look at the date and think back to a time that seems so far away, yet in a breath feels like yesterday.  Tears come to my eyes as I think of Mark and all I’ve been through.

      I see more than ever that my life has changed.  It will never be the same, but once again I’m sharing my life and my love with someone very special. I love Jason, and I don’t want to lose what we have together. On this day, a day that was supposed to be so special 2 years ago, it is good to know in my heart that I want to be married to Jason and I am not afraid. I love you, Jason! Life is so worth living, especially when you have someone to share it with.

     Mark, I will always love you, you hold a special place in my heart. Thanks for all your strength.

It was on that day, over twenty-five years ago, that I realized the strength of the written word. The words that filled my journals guided me toward living, to a point in my life where I was strong enough to move forward, to marry Jason, to have children, and to live a life filled with love and hope. I have never forgotten Mark, but I have learned to let go, to remember the energy with which Mark lived his life, and to use it as an example for how to live mine. I am forever grateful for the short time I had with Mark, the life I now have with Jason and my family, and the written word that helped me find my way.

The End

 

Grieving is hard.

Journaling was an important piece of my recovery, but there are many things that can help you find your way through the hard times. If you are struggling, take care of yourself and allow yourself time to cry, but also get out of the house from time to time and do things that you enjoy, or used to enjoy, because just trying them can make a difference. Write down your thoughts, take time to breathe, ask for help, and again, don’t forget to cry when you need to and even when you don’t. Be good to yourself, as with many things in life, grieving is a journey, so keep moving forward one step at a time, and you will find your way.

Has writing helped you during your lifetime? What other things have helped when you’re struggling?

 

 

PEN TO PAPER: Discover Your Story

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This last weekend I drew inspiration from my daughter. Not only did she graduate with a degree in Creative Writing, she used what she’s learned in her major to inspire her classmates in her valedictorian commencement speech.

She related the life of a college graduate, one who is stepping into a new and unknown world, to that of a writer staring at a blank page.

“The sprawling expanse of possibility lies before us, both tantalizing and terrifying all at once. Yet, I’ve found that the cure to writer’s block is to just start writing. The time has come to start crafting our own stories.”

So true. Life can be scary, whether you’re a writer plugging away at a difficult piece, a new graduate starting a career, a new mother discovering what it’s like to care for an infant or an old mother figuring out what life has in store for her, life can be a challenge.  

“The important part is that you start, and start with a vengeance. Chase dreams, chase jobs, chase experiences, chase what makes you happy. Because right now, inside each and everyone one of us, a story is waiting to be told.”

What story is waiting inside of you?

Read Charli Elliott’s full commencement speech on her blog eloquentlyelliott.com

 

PEN TO PAPER: Get on a roll

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I’ve been on a roll. A slow roll, but a roll all the same. I’ve been writing, not as much as I’d like, but the key is I have been doing it. I’m a little bit like the tortoise in The Tortoise and the Hare. I’m just plugging away, setting aside time to write, even if it’s just thirty minutes.

Whether it’s the book you’re writing, or your goal to stay in shape, or even perhaps your goal to start a business, just start rolling. Even a slow and steady pace will gain momentum and lead you where you want to go.

What helps you to get, and keep, on a roll?

PEACELOVEBASKETBALL & PEN TO PAPER: Writing Wisdom

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When I was coaching I gave journals to all of my players and to the kids who came to our summer camps. I found that writing was a good way for them to set personal goals, learn about team concepts and discover things about themselves and each other.

Some players cherished their journals and even brought them home and used them on their own throughout the season. Others simply left them in their lockers for the times when we had organized writing exercises and goal settings. But I loved that every time we wrote in the journals, noses went straight to the page and pens where scratching away. The girls had things to say, thoughts to be written. I believe that all the players and campers benefitted from the experience in one way or another as it gave them the opportunity to delve into their thoughts on the importance of teamwork, attitude and work ethic, and also gave them a space for personal introspection and self-evaluation.

For the high school teams, I had the players write down basketball goals as well as some life goals, and then I tried to give a variety of thought provoking writing prompts. I used questions like: What does team mean to you? Give three things that you can do to help our team be successful this year. Name three goals you have for this season. What steps will you take to achieve these goals? What are three goals (non-basketball related) that you would like to accomplish this year in school? What would you like to be doing in five years? There are so many options to get your team thinking.

Journaling for campers (4th– 8thgraders) was similar, I just added questions that were a little easier to answer and to discuss if the girls wanted to. I used some questions similar to the ones above and added questions like: If you could travel anywhere, where would you go? If you could be an animal, what would you be and why? What is something that you learned at camp today? What makes you happy? Write about someone who is special to you. Share a time when you helped someone. How did it make you feel?

Whether you’re a coach or a player (or anyone really), try using a journal, take time to look inside and reflect on your life and see what happens.

WRITING PROMPT: Choose one of the prompts above and get writing!

 

PeaceLoveBasketball Believe Journal $19.17

PEN TO PAPER: Working Inspiration

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Are you looking for something to write about? Try writing a list poem of the jobs you’ve had over your lifetime and see what happens.

In a recent conversation with a friend, I explained how I bought one house in a short sale and then used a 1031 Exchange to find a house in a better neighborhood. Over the evening my past as a forklift driver and a Licensed Massage Therapist came up. She knew me as a fashion model. She laughed, “I’d like to see a list of all the jobs you’ve had.”

 

My Jobs

Deli Worker

Forklift Driver

Retail Sales Person

Pizza Delivery Person

Waitress

Fashion Model

Basketball Coach

Apartment Manager

Licensed Massage Therapist

School Volunteer

PeaceLoveBasketball Design/Owner

Writer/Author

Public Speaker

Real Estate Investor/ Rental manager

Mom

 

A poem? Well, not really, but a dredger of stories for sure. Just writing the list brought back all kinds of memories, and all sorts of possibilities. Give it a try!

WRITING PROMPT 1: Write a list of all the jobs you’ve had in your lifetime.

WRITING PROMPT 2: Pick one (or two) of them and keep on writing.

PEN TO PAPER: The Process of Perfection

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Sixteen years ago I built a deck onto a rental house. It took time, I had never built a deck before. My tenants, two young women who were published authors, were in awe of what I was doing. They would peer out the back door from time to time and say, “That is so cool, I want to build a deck someday.” I was working to write my memoir at the time and thought, I want to publish a book someday. Instead I was wasting precious writing time with my nose in my Home Depot deck book, planning and building.

I love to write, yet it’s often hard to sit down and do it. Why is that? Could it be that life gets in the way? Sometimes. Is it fear that perhaps what I’m writing isn’t good enough? Quite possibly. And for me it has a little bit to do with the fact that I feel satisfaction when I’m using my body, so when I’m working on a blog or my book, I feel like I’m not “doing” anything, like I’m wasting time.

Of course when I’m writing I know I’m not wasting time, but the process can seem never-ending and fruitless. That perfect poem, that perfect essay, that perfect sentence, seems to elude me and there is a reason for this, nothing is ever perfect. Perfection is simply what we strive for but it’s not the real goal. The real goal is a story that can be shared. And when we get the results we want down on paper it’s the most amazing feeling in the world.

I’m working to appreciate the journey of creating a story. I remind myself daily that the pieces I write will not be perfect, just as life is not perfect. If I were the best writer in the world, in the universe, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be satisfied with my work, but I’m learning to fight the critic, fight the lows, enjoy the process and find strength in the possibility of story.

After I had cemented the posts, drilled into the foundation, attached the joists and laid the decking so many years ago, those strenuous hours cementing, sawing and hammering helped me to feel real pride, and though the finished product was far from perfect I was able to give myself a break and recognize the good.

Writing is the same. If you spend a month writing and editing a piece, you should look for the good and not expect it to be perfect. When I finished my memoir (after editing what seamed like a million times), I wanted to get it out there to help other people who were dealing with grief and recovery, so I was able to eventually let go of the need for perfection. But, like with many things, I often need a reminder.

Last week I was at the same rental house where I built the deck so many years ago waiting for a contractor to stop by to do some work. And as I sat in the back yard, on the deck that I had built when my son was only two (He will be leaving to college this year), I thought of all the writing I have done and the book that I’ve published since then. I thought of my husband and the kids we have raised. I thought of the basketball teams I have coached and the people who have become a part of my life since I built the small deck.

I remembered picking my son up from preschool and bringing him to the rental house and giving him a hammer so he could teeter from post to post and “help” me build. I noticed the faded boards and all of it’s imperfections, but most of all I saw a beautiful living space that for sixteen years, despite it’s imperfections, has been used and enjoyed.

So when you sit down to write, remember, writing (and life really) is just like building a deck. You need to put in the work, push ahead, find joy in the process and understand that it doesn’t need to be perfect to be worth doing. Get your words on the page and out into the world.

Write on!

WRITING PROMPT 1: What is perfection?

WRITING PROMPT 2: Ellie decided she would…

Monday’s Pen to Paper: Why Do We Write?

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This week I was reading about creating, and why we do it, and what keeps us going. As a writer, it’s easy to forget, it’s easy to wonder why the hell we spend hours upon hours jotting down words and then rearranging them into unsatisfactory combinations, until we find that we kind of like them, or we give up. Oh, occasionally there are the moments when we are truly happy with the results, but that is not often and comes with a lot of work and so we wonder, why? Why do we torture ourselves this way? And then we get a reminder. Sometimes it’s a nudge, sometimes it’s a 2×4 across the head, but whatever it is, it resonates with us, and keeps up going.

That’s what happened to me when I read this one line. “We write to share.”

Ah, yes. That’s it. And it’s also the reason we sometimes don’t write, because we are afraid that what we have to share is not worth it, but it is. What I have to say, what you have to say, is worth it, for someone, maybe not for everyone, probably not for everyone, but what we write will resonate with someone out there, therefore it must be written.

So, I’ve allowed that thought to inspire me this week, to remind me that I have things to share, stories that are always whirling around in my head. Living with wonderlust and my Blue Bomber (VW Vanagon). My scattered writing life and my battle with putting words on the page. Why a high school coach needs an attorney. Raising kids (or at least trying). My life as a not-so-famous fashion model. More on surviving death and loss. My love affair with rental houses and real estate. My thoughts about the strength and power of women and how I cry watching WNBA games just thinking about all the changes that have happened in women’s sports and all the hopes and dreams I have for the future. My desire to bring more light on the poaching of elephants and rhinos in Africa. My hope for change in politics, women’s rights and gun control.

I wonder about it all, and more. I want to share how I feel, what I think, what other people think. I want to change lives, help people grow or simply remind them to be the same. I want to entertain them with my words, my opinions and my stories. Does that sound pompous to think others would even care about what I say? It feels pompous, even wrong. Just one more reason we writers are afraid. But, like I tell myself when I go to one of my book readings, if just one person cares what I have to say (and there will be at least one) it’s worth it. Just do it, it is worth it to share what you have held tight in your soul.

On long drives I write stories. Sitting watching basketball games I write stories. Walking the dogs I write stories. And they swirl in my mind waiting to be told as my day-to-day life gets in the way, and then I scold myself, Sonya find the time, you have it, find it. And still, I make excuses, I find a house to remodel, a dish to clean, a rabbit hole to crawl down into and then the story sits. But it’s there (just like yours), waiting for that nudge (or 2×4), to get me moving, and get it out and into the world. 

What you have to say is important!

Write on!

WRITING PROMPT 1: Why do I write?

WRITING PROMPT 2: What do I want to share?

Monday’s Pen To Paper: Finding Space to Breathe

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Photo Credit: Jeff Zaruba

Wow, 2017 flew by. There were good times (those seen on Instagram) and not-so-good times, but because of the ups and downs, it was fulfilling and interesting, and a year that I wouldn’t change for the world.

However, I am always looking for ways to make life better and I believe what will do that for me in the coming year is to work on slowing life down so that I can better appreciate every moment. Relishing the positive and understanding that when shit happens, I need to breathe and take a moment to myself then move toward happiness.

It’s not easy, especially when the real bad times hit. I’ve fought to save my job, I’ve battled injuries and I’ve lost loved ones and it took a lot of strength and courage to keep moving forward. But every day life can be tough sometimes too. When terrible things happen I know I have to buck up and move on, but at time it’s the little things, the sprained wrist, the sore shoulder, the sick dog, the sick kid, the dead toaster, the flat tire, and the constant battle with laundry and dishes that drags me down. 

Life can be challenging that way, even as a half-full kind of gal. I’m not a jump up and down, happy-go-lucky, big smiles all the time type person. In fact, occasionally my husband will even ask me if I had fun at a party or something we did together, and I’ll be surprised by his question, because I’ve had a great time. I just tend to keep my joy at a whisper. I see the good in life (maybe quieter than some); still there are times when I struggle to stay positive day after day after day. If I’ve had a bad day I try to remind myself that I have no reason to be upset, that I have dealt with worse, and that helps some, but what helps the most is to breathe, to take a moment to think of the things that I am grateful for in my life. And to do that, I need space. I need time alone, time to be still, time to breathe.

My friend Jenny wrote about choosing a word for the New Year instead of making resolutions in her recent blog. I like this idea. Breathe, seems like the best word for me this year to bring calm to my life. Everyone is different, my husband loves being with people, staying busy, and being active, and though I love these things too, what brings me peace and keeps life on the half-full side, is slowing down and finding space. To do that in 2018 I’m working toward weaving more yoga and meditation back into my life (learn more about yoga in 18 Amazing Benefits of Yoga) and because my house is never empty or quiet (my husband works from home and is on the phone) I’m searching for ways to be still, even without the quiet, and what better way to do that than…breathe.

WRITING PROMPT: How will you find space this year? Is there a word that helps bring you focus for the New Year? If so, write about it.

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