One of Those Days

There's been a lot going on this month. In addition to the usual work, home, kids (with their crazy sports schedule) and winter tax prep, I committed to helping select a new school principal, the next day learned my husband's job is relocating, and then last week a friend died after her year-long battle with cancer. It's been a roller-coaster of feelings: purpose and helplessness, fear and excitement, despair and connection, uncertainly and clarity, paralysis and inspiration, overwhelm and peace.

In one of those moments of inspiration/paralysis, I thought I'd distract myself  by considering an update for my website (a purposeful attempt to find some control). I typed my URL and got this:


Practicing a little denial, I thought, "I can't deal with this now - maybe it's a glitch and I'll try it again next week." This morning, I woke a little anxious, probably because we're leaving town tonight for spring break, and the packing always gets me a little spun out, (and see paragraph one). Having a later workout class than normal, I decided to use the extra hour to contact my web server and clear up what was certainly a simple fix on their end. Turns out, there's no simple fix; it's a pretty big mess. All the safeguards like pre-payment, auto renewal, multiple contact emails, packaged url/email/web serving didn't negate the fact they did not connect the new credit card in my profile for my web serving. Net net: they deleted the content a month ago and they only keep content backups for two weeks. Since mine was created on iWeb, which no longer exists, it's gone - like GONE, GONE. GRRRRRR!

The frustrated, bitter part of me wanted to write a rant about the company. Yes, first world problem, but a big pain in the ass nevertheless. Thankfully after recognizing my long neglected blog still exists, a more grounded part decided to practice what I preach all day long and radically accept that my content is lost and needs to be rebuilt. To ease into it, I sought out some additional info and went to the gym. I'm choosing to use this as an excuse to get back to blogging, not with a rigid editorial calendar, but when I feel inspired. So in that vein, posting this barely proof-read post and then letting it go over break.

All day long I teach clients about radical acceptance: observing feelings, letting them come and go in waves, accepting what is, and determining what we can and can't change. What I've been reminded in the last month, and this morning, is that IT WORKS!

I know I can't create more hours in the day, undo mistakes that have already happened, control work, change people's feelings, or get rid of my own. I can sweat my butt off and feel a smidge better, eat a bag of Cheetos and not have it be the end of the world, stay up late or go to bed early, toast and talk with friends, take my vitamins, process internally, do what's in front of me, and trust I will be ok.

I went to my friend's funeral with my family this week, the kids' first funeral. We all cried, and I was reminded that my kids know it's ok to express feelings, and I'm ok sitting with them through the pain. I was so impressed that at these young ages (10/12) they're already grasping a skill that it took me into adulthood to learn. Life is short and full of so many moments we don't understand or like; if we can sit through the pain, we are so far ahead. This week brought our family much talk of what happens after we die and what we value while we're here. I'm sad to think my friend's passing was the thing that began these conversations in our home, but am so grateful and indebted to her that it did.

Today I feel a little peace amidst the chaos knowing that wherever I am, I have people I love and who love me. And I'm still breathing...

(And if you're looking for info on my practice, I can't guarantee when that site will be back up. Email me whitney@whitneypreece.com or search for Whitney Preece at www.psychologytoday.com).