Magical Christmas on a Dime

 By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

My mother always managed to make our Christmases magical. It started with crafting hand painted ornaments or building them from clothespins with scraps of fabric and sundries from her sewing room. 

We always visited the local tree lot to select the perfect “fresh” cut evergreen tree. We would adorn that tree with the ornaments we’d made at home and school as well as the store bought and inherited treasures. Each branch of our perfectly lit tree would be finished with exactly three evenly hung pieces of tinsel. No balling it up into a frizzy mess and tossing it on at our house.

We would smell batches of her cookies baking throughout the season as mom perfected old and new recipes. We would be allowed to help decorate her cut out shapes with candies before she baked them. We even were permitted to select a few shapes to be made into her delicious sparkle cookies. There were parties and family gatherings as well.

Of course, the most anticipated time was Christmas morning when we would find mounds of presents under the tree and overflowing from our stockings. My sister and I received very few gifts throughout the year. Our parents did not spoil us by buying us every little toy we coveted. On our birthdays, we looked forward to a few gifts, but Christmas was when we hit the jackpot.

I’m not sure why my mom felt compelled to lavish us with such riches on this day. Perhaps she was trying to outdo her childhood. She was the fourth child of nine and my grandparents were not wealthy so gifts at Christmas were sparse. Perhaps she was trying to compensate for our emotionally absent and verbally abusive father. More than either of those, I suspect she liked to shop. She was an expert bargain hunter and that allowed her to buy many, many things for her girls at Christmas.

On Christmas morning it looked as if Santa had barfed under our tree. There were unwrapped toys that were clearly from Santa himself. Beyond those lay meticulously wrapped boxes that were from mom and dad to either my sister or myself. There had to be at least 20 gifts for each of us. There were toys, clothes and books.

After we opened those gifts, my grandmother would arrive with bags and bags that overflowed with gifts. Many of her gifts were handmade. She was crafty and a bit eccentric. Her gifts never disappointed. The most memorable of her lovingly crafted gifts was a piece of thick cardboard cutout into the shape of a wreath. She coated it in bright red wax and pressed seashells into the wax before it set. Then, she topped it off with a red feather. What eight-year-old wouldn’t want to unwrap that on Christmas day?

There were always more gifts from family friends. We would travel to my other grandma’s house where we would open several more gifts. The bounty and booty were overwhelming and glorious.

The tradition of overabundance continues to this day. My mother has created a monster of a tradition. The difference between then and now is that we do buy things for ourselves and our children throughout the year. We spoil ourselves and our kids 365 days a year, not just that one spectacular morning. As a result, the gifts at Christmas become redundant and not as exciting.

Not needing stuff or even wanting anything in particular combined with dwindling expendable income has made me want to downsize Christmas and focus more on the quality of the gift, not the quantity. The quality can be found in the meaning, not in the cost. 

A thoughtful gift means more to me than an expensive one.

I have been encouraging, to mixed reviews, the idea of low cost or free gifts for our Christmas. Rather than spending two or more hours opening gifts, why don’t we spend that time playing games, cooking and sharing stories? Christmas is often a time for families to reconnect, that in itself is a gift.

Ideas for Free or Cheap Gifts

• Make a photo album
• Frame a picture you made or a photo you took
• Make a Mixed CD/[/playlist to share
• Regift something you no longer need like jewelry, a pretty scarf, an heirloom cast iron pan or knife
• Offer your services like babysitting, cleaning, painting, etc...
• Gifts of food like granola, spiced nuts, soups mixes, baked goods, etc...
• A box/book of your favorite recipes
• A day out to a museum, park or another free place
• A homemade meal
• A handmade gift, not a wax wreath with seashells, but something you sewed, knitted, sculpted, painted, etc….

My mother happily agreed to provide gifts from the heart and her kitchen. So now, at Christmas, I open homemade cookies, hand-me-down jewelry, CD’s of her favorite music and 20 store-bought gifts. Not quite what I had in mind, but I appreciate the effort.

All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth

Sparkle Cookie Recipe:

Pre-Heat oven to 375

1 cup (2 sticks) butter (softened)

1 ½ cups Sifted confectioners’ sugar (powdered sugar)

1 tsp Vanilla

1 egg

2 ½ cups sifted flour

1 tsp cream of tartar

¼ tsp salt

Cream butter, vanilla, sugar and egg together. Sift dry ingredients together and add to the first mixture.

Chill the dough 1 hour cover with plastic wrap so it doesn’t dry out. 

Roll out on a lightly floured surface to about ¼ inch thickness.

Cut into desired shapes with a floured cookie cutter

Place on baking sheet. Brush lightly with cool water. Decorate with Candies and sugars.

Bake for 10 minutes

Makes 3 dozen

Think Thrice Before You Speak: How Social Media Made Me Nicer

By Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

“Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates:

At the first gate, ask yourself “Is it true?”

At the second gate ask, “Is it necessary?”

At the third gate ask, “Is it kind?”

~ Rumi

Those who have known me the longest know I had no gates to contain my words for much of my life. My words just leapt out the door as soon as my mouth swung open and ran for the hills unencumbered by barriers of any kind. No locks were in place to slow the pace of my often reckless word choices

The hurt and embarrassment they caused were not impeded. They just made a mad dash for the nearest pair of ears and drove their meaning both unintended and intended into the brain and heart of the people within reception distance.

Many times, I tried to will those words to make a sharp left as I prayed for the sound waves to be absorbed into a nearby tree or bounce off a wall and ricochet back into my mouth where I could swallow them back down and save myself the embarrassment and others the pain they would surely cause.

Sadly, acoustic science does not work like that.

Instead, I would inevitably have to face the consequences of my blabbermouth. My belief in always telling the truth no matter what was not as charming a quality as I had hoped. I thought honesty was the best policy. I still do.

If you want the truth, I’m your girl.

The problem was that I felt compelled to blurt the truth even when a white lie would have been a wiser and kinder option. Even just silence or evasive tactics like changing the subject would have served me better. For some reason, the truth always erupted from my lips and that was that.

Damage done.

My truth-telling was more obvious than I thought. Many people who I had thought took little notice of me and what I said often characterized me as someone that says it like it is. Or, she’s a straight shooter. Or, she’s not too shy to tell the truth. Or, she doesn’t hold back. Or, she has a strong personality. Or, she’s a bitch. 

Let’s face it, all those other euphemisms were just nicer ways of saying the latter.

The problem I had with that banal estimation was that I wasn’t a bitch. My words were never intended to hurt. They were meant to be kind. Truly. I believed being honest was the equivalent to kindness. I was not being mean or judgy like so many thought. That was me being nice.

Once I got my head out of my ass, I realized that my brand of thoughtfulness was never going to be perceived as kindness.

I needed to make a change.

"...social media taught me to be kinder and gentler"

Strangely enough, social media has taught me to be kinder and gentler. It has taught me to stop and think before I speak and respond. This took a bit of time and few instances of getting it wrong, very wrong before I learned to the art of letting my words pass through three gates before I speak.

How Social Media Taught me to be kinder:

Tone and intent are lost in the transmission. How many times have you sent a text or an email with a sarcastic tone in your mind only to realize the jokiness intended got lost in the microwaves no airwaves, no phone line, no…oh heck whatever line transmits our typed words to other people’s devices?

Other People are Jerks: Nothing has taught me this more than the cruelty that is being spewed in the name of political affiliation across the land of Facebook and Twitter. The things people feel compelled to share and the way others respond to what they disagree with is sickening. Many times, I have read something a reacted by typing some angry response followed by backspace, backspace, backspace until it was erased. I’ll sit and seethe and breathe and then type something more level-headed and wise only to realize that fool has no interest in my sage approach. So, I hit backspace over and over until my thoughts are erased once again. I walk away and imagine all the witty or intellectual retorts I could leave and then decide it’s best left unsaid. I am not going to change anyone’s mind or personality with a few well thought out sentences.

I want to have friends and family in my life and a job. While I occasionally like or share something that is mildly political that others with my group of followers, I purposely keep my stronger beliefs and opinions to myself. This is very hard to do because I want to support and defend those I love who are being hurt by the political views and leanings and voting of others who I like.

I have decided that I am not eloquent enough to be the voice that can make the strong arguments using factual information and the correct language needed. My rantings would sound more like inarticulate whining more than debate worthy knowledge presented in a professorial tone that I strive for.

If I allow my truth to flow from my fingertips, I will offend many more people than I did when it spewed from my lips. I want to share information about the things I love on social media: my family, my books, my travels, my work, and what I eat because I eat some pretty damn tasty stuff. If I start ranting about my politics I will alienate those people I want to hold close. Just because we don’t agree politically doesn’t mean I want to lose them in my life. Well most of them. Some I just can’t handle their level of hate so I unfollow them, but the others I want to keep.

Being employable for years to come is necessary. I am only 49. I can’t risk making myself a pariah in the warm and fuzzy field in which I work. All I can say is as my retirement age gets closer, watch-out. I may just let the words fly again. That is if I have word finding ability at that age.

So, for now, I have installed three gates. I will determine if what I have to say is true. I will then decide if sharing it is necessary. Finally, I will ask if it is kind. Once my words have passed through the three gates, I will type them and then ask the even more important questions, is my spelling and grammar correct?

Little Less Talk and A Lot More Action

Falling Back: Time Change Torture

By Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

Is it any wonder I've got 
Too much time on my hands?
It's ticking away with my sanity
I've got too much time on my hands
It's hard to believe such a calamity
I've got too much time on my hands
And it's ticking away
Ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands
Ticking away...
Too much time on my hands
I don't know what to do with myself...
Too much time on my hands~ Styx

Who are these mythological creatures who get an extra hour of sleep when daylight savings ends?

“Falling back” is the cutesy way that weathermen remind us to set our clocks back an hour every Autumn. This sleep-robbing annual event does not deserve this charming slogan for it wreaks havoc on the lives of every person forced to follow its stupid rule.

These weathermen, in the Autumn of their lives, stand before green screens and show us clock hands sweeping backward on clock faces that have cartoonish smiley faces. The co-anchors and traffic reporters gush with joy as they claim they will get a whole extra hour of sleep on the weekend.

I call BS on them.

The only ones that get an extra hour of sleep are the sloth-like creatures who roam the halls of homes across America, teenagers. That’s right, the only ones who get more sleep are the ones who would have taken it whether or not the time changed.

Extra Hour of Sleep my Butt

These same weather people took my hour of sleep from me in the Spring when they forced me to, “Spring my clock forward,” another ridiculously happy slogan. If they just would have left the clock alone, the world would be a happier more rested place.

People blame the invention of daylight savings time on many different folks and ideas. Farmers and Ben Franklin are two common culprits. Sports and business operations might be to blame. I say, it doesn’t matter whether it is saving on candles or keeping money flowing by manipulating light hours to coincide with people shopping, stop messing with my sleep. Oh, and leave the farmers out of this, they hate it just as much as me. (Or is it “I”? I never know how to end a sentence with a pronoun)

As an insomniac, I rely on a steady sleep schedule to keep me sane.

Even my poor dogs suffer from these biannual time shifts. They live on an internal clock that tells them when they need to wake up to pee, when everyone gets home from school and work, and most importantly when it’s dinner time.

The sound of kibble filling their bowls is expected at 5:00 pm sharp. By 4:00 pm they start acting like fools in anticipation of their dinner. I am not sure what is so exciting about getting the same dry food day after day, but they seem super impatient to wolf it down.

The old dog must pee at 6:00 am and receive her Milkbone biscuit immediately after or she will bark and howl and cry and scratch at the door until someone wakes to do her bidding.

Like my dogs, I have always been equipped with the unwanted superpower of setting my internal clock. This can happen with just one unplanned wakening. If I have a cup of tea or water too many before bed, my weakening bladder will rouse me at 2:03 am to relieve the intolerable pressure and stop the dreams about drowning in a tidal wave. Then, for the end of time, I will wake at exactly 2:03 am.

I have not developed the superpower to undo this internal clock.

An Extra Hour Does Nothing for Me, NOTHING

My daughter made the observation on the day the time changed, "This day is moving so slow." Yes, dear daughter, it did, because we had an extra hour to fill. An extra hour to stay awake until you could slip off to bed without feeling like a toddler. An extra hour to need to eat. An extra hour to listen to your teens argue. An extra hour of darkness.

Prior to the latest time change, I happily woke around 5:00 am. Guess what time I wake now…4:00am. Do you know what there is to do at 4:00 am…NOTHING.

Everyone is still sleeping so I can’t be a jerk and run on the treadmill. I have to wait until 5:00 am to be a running jerk. I can’t go outside for a walk because it’s cold and dark and probably raining because it is ALWAYS raining these days. I have no desire to watch TV until 7:00 am when GMA comes on. No one can watch 3 hours of local news waiting for GMA, that’s just agony. So, I wander around and do chores.

I am doing chores when I should be sleeping!

The flip-side of this “extra hour of sleep” means by 8:00 pm I have been awake for 16 hours and I am bone tired. I must sleep. My internal clock did not “Fall Back” like the weatherperson told it to. My internal clock is irreversibly set, remember. So, by eight o’clock I am trying to keep my eyes open. I give-in by 8:30 and fall into bed. I fall fast asleep until 2:03 am when I wake…wait is it 2:03? Did I switch my clock? Nooo, I can’t remember if I changed my clock.

Anxiety from the uncertainty of whether it is 2:03 or 3:03 or 1:03 keeps me up.

Now my superpower kicks-in and from now until the end of time I will wake at 2:03 and never fall back to sleep.

Sorry if I sound a bit grumpy, but I am very tired!

Very Important Time Change Questions

Do sundials work? If the sun is directly in the center of the sky at noon and we change the time by an hour in the spring, is the sun directly in the center of the sky at 1:00 pm?

Also, if the powers-that-be decide to end daylight savings time forever (pretty please), does that mean that people born between March and November might have changes in their birthday? For example, if Sally was born at 12:01am on July 5th during daylight savings time and then daylight savings time ends she will have actually been born at 11:01 pm on July 4th, right?

Merciless Massage: My Journey to Cure Insomnia

Subtracting Sheep and Counting Blessings: Coping with Insomnia

I Can’t Stop Talking About The Whole Town is Talking

By Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

Like most women from my time, I loved the movie Fried Green Tomatoes. I was astonished to learn that it was written by the comedic actress Fannie Flagg. I knew her from her antics on the Match Game. How could this same silly woman have written such an insightful and heart-wrenching novel?

Then I forgot about her.

One day I was perusing a used book sale and found another novel written by Fannie Flagg and I thought, “She wrote more than one book?” I paid my 50 cents and took the book home tucking into my need to read bookshelf. Years later I plucked it from the shelf and read it. I really enjoyed the book, though I cannot recall which of her many novels it was.

I find myself turning to Flagg’s books over and over especially after reading a very heavy novel. Her light-hearted and whimsical books are the perfect anecdote for the gloom and doom of many of the historical fiction books I love to read.

After finishing Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch, I desperately needed a Flagg novel to put me on an even keel. The Whole Town is Talking, Flagg’s most recent novel, called out to me from my library and I downloaded the MP3 audio version to my Overdrive app. I spent the next week being cheerfully entertained my Flagg’s words read by Kimberly Farr.

This novel which they say was inspired by Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, with which I am not familiar, takes the reader on a generational journey as a small town in Missouri is made and then grown and then lost over generations.

We follow a family of Swedish immigrants evolve as they inhabit a small farming community and build Elm Wood Springs from nothing. This town’s first major project was the cemetery. This cemetery becomes the heart and soul of the town as one by one the founders and then their descendants begin to fill the plots.

This is not a gloom and doom book. Each person lives a full life and dies when it is “their time” as Flagg’s characters insightfully suppose. In this town, ordinary people live mostly ordinary lives. We get to know them and watch them grow and change and encounter day to day things. Somehow, Flagg is able to highlight unusual happenings, coincidences and quirky personalities to make this book charming and interesting.

Elner, a good-hearted, animal loving, fig jam making farmers wife has many quirks. Her good-hearted friendliness means she welcomes all types to her farm. Lost travelers happen upon her land and she welcomes them all preparing them a hearty meal and sending them off with a jar of her jam made from her fig tree.

Unbeknownst to her, she fed Bonnie and Clyde breakfast when they got lost. Another time she entertained a future president and his wife. Both of these chance encounters weave there way into the storyline of this whimsical novel.

Flagg leaves no twist unturned or loose end untied. Everything she writes eventually leads to something else. Even the cemetery built in the very beginning serves a major role in the lives of the Elmwood Springs residents.

I won’t’ give it all away.

Flagg has a knack for making the ordinary fun and interesting. Her books are not dark and twisty. She even manages to make potentially bad things feel conventional. She keeps the overdone crisis to a minimum.

When I need a drama free, smart and funny book, I always turn to Flagg. She makes even the gloomiest of days seem sunny. I definitely need more sun

Why So Touchy? Thoughts on Sensory Processing Differences

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

The other day a mother retold the story of how her toddler ate all the fur off of his stuffed dinosaur. It took everything in me to not vomit at the thought of this. In fact, just typing this is making my belly roil and I may have to excuse myself.

Years ago I used to use a stuffed dog puppet to help kids overcome sensory processing and feeding disorders. This dog had a slit in its throat which allowed it to "eat" cookies. The cookies were small squares made from a variety of textured fabrics. Every time I brought this toy out, I had to stifle my gags.

It wasn't lost on me that while I was trying to help kids overcome their sensory processing issues, I was strengthening my own aversions.

Working with kids who suffer from severe sensory processing disorders has made me become more in tune with my own aversions. Realizing that I have trouble processing certain sensory information has strengthened my sense of self. Understanding what sets me off and why has helped me be a better mother and person. 

Knowing what tips my sensory scales allows me to avoid the triggers or at least explain why I am acting like a disorganized emotional fool.

According to the STAR Institute, a sensory processing disorder can be defined as: 

A neurological disorder in which the sensory information that the individual perceives results in abnormal responses.

I have yet to meet a person that does not have trouble processing some sensory information. Either our bodies under respond to sensations and we seek more information-think about those who eat spicy foods, shake their legs incessantly, or keep the volume up painfully loud- or those who become overwhelmed by sensation-think of those who don't like strong smells, eat bland food, or like the lights dim.

I know people who gag at the texture of yogurt. I know people who freak out when styrofoam squeaks. Everyone has quirks and oddities.

That's what makes the world an interesting place.

I have discovered that beyond fur on stuffed animals-GAG-I have trouble regulating my mind and body when I encounter strong smells. The worst form of torture for me is Bath and Body Works. I can't even walk past the store without swooning from the scents and not in a good way.

Any store that has the word "Country" in it, I avoid as I know the stench of candles and herb encrusted crafts will make me insane in the brain. I never wear perfume or cologne because it overtakes all my ability to focus and attend to anything except the way I smell. 

My husband bought me deodorant the other day and it was not scent free. I wore it for one day, two weeks ago, and I can still "smell" it on me. 

If I stay in a hotel room where someone smoked once, ever, I become nauseous, I get headaches and I can't sleep. Just ask my friend Sharon how our fun trip to Atlantic City was ruined by The Donald and his stupid hotel and the "smoke-free" rooms. Of all the heinous things he has said and done, that will be the thing for which I will never forgive him.

Loud noises make me crazy. Seriously, I get crazy and again, not in a good way. I cannot think or focus when things get loud. The irony is that my daughter has a sensory processing need for things to be very loud. As you can imagine that makes life in our house VERY challenging. 

While she is pumping up the volume, I am cranking it down. Because she is rendered deaf by her blasting earbuds she can't hear me yelling to TURN IT DOWN!! I have to get loud for things to get quiet.

That lasts for about five seconds before her sensory needs compel her to turn it back up. The cycle is neverending until one of us gives up and leaves.

Good times....

Little kids can't express their sensory processing needs or aversions. Often times they act out and we adults interpret it as misbehaving. Kids do not have the language or the understanding of how the body works to know to avoid the things that set them off or make accommodations to get the input they crave.

If their bodies feel like they are floating in space because their sense of touch is low, they crash, hit, throw, destroy, bounce, flip, climb and all types of risky and possibly destructive behaviors. Adults who don't understand the underlying reason for these behaviors react when they should adapt.

There are tons of resources available for parents who suspect their kids might have a sensory processing disorder. One of my favorites in The Out-of-Sync Child by Carol Stock Kranowitz. It's an easy to understand and follow guide on sensory processing disorders.

Perhaps you are an adult who has always wondered why you seem to struggle with day to day life when others seem to coast through their days without feeling out of sorts. You might have an undiagnosed sensory processing disorder. 

Taking the time to understand the sensory system and how one that is not working well can disrupt your life is worth the time. 

What are some things that set your senses off?

You Can't Touch This!!! 

I Can't Drive Fifty-Five and Other Ways Law Abiding Citizens Break the Law

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

I spend a lot of time in my car driving between houses, crossing counties and traversing unfamiliar towns. Sometimes I get confused by what the speed limit is, where the stoplights and stop signs are or where a school zone begins and ends. This causes inadvertent moments of breaking the law.

I'm not going to lie. I do speed. On purpose. Always.

I don't speed excessively. What I mean is, I speed just five to seven miles over the posted (or assumed) speed limit. I'm not crazy. I'm not looking to hurt anyone or get a ticket. I just feel the need for speed.

Aside from this habitual divergence from the law, I follow the rules. I'm not a rebel without or with a cause. I am a good girl, I promise.

My Catholic upbringing prevents me from being bad. The guilt would kill me.

I can't help but wonder, what other laws or rules might be okay for me to break if I was feeling restless and disobedient? 

I have seen many others push the limits of the law without crossing the line into felonious acts. Perhaps I may have rashly committed one or more of these rulebreaking deeds. Just in case you also have the urge to be bad but are to goody-two-shoes to dive into the dark side, I have compiled a list of a few ways you can exercise your dark side without getting arrested (I hope).

Ten Laws To Break Without Breaching Your Moral Code

1. Eat grapes from the bins in the produce section. I mean, they leave them sitting there in the wide open. Plus, the pesticides will poison you slightly so the punishment is built into the criminal act.

2. Park at a store right below the "Parking is for Customers Only" sign and don't patronize it. Also, use the bathroom. Oh you know you've done it too.

3. Turn left at a stop light that won't change when no one else is on the road. Who has time to wait for imaginary traffic?

4. Crossing the street, while walking or running, against the red light. Keeping the heart rate up is crucial for cardiovascular health.

5. Organic littering. If that banana peel or apple core stays in the car all day its gonna stink, get slimy and attract bugs.

6. Not pointing out the pricing error or missed item when checking out at the store. You know they have overcharged you numerous times. It all comes out in the wash. Right?

7. Nibbling on the food from your dinner date's plate when he bought the "all you can eat" buffet and you didn't. It just smelled so tasty. You're only human.

8. Playing on the swings and slide even though the sign says "Playground for Kids 12 and Under Only." A kid at heart should have a place to play too.

9. Ripping tags from mattresses and couches. I double dog dare anyone to arrest me for that... Well not really, I just hate big ugly tags.

10. Not cleaning up after your dog when she pooped in the woods at the park. It's so hard to find. It's not your fault she was off the leash and wandered into the woods to do her business. What? Oh, right. The dogs are supposed to be on a leash at the park... I guess that's a double ding on the lawbreaking.

Okay so maybe I have done all of these things. That doesn't make me a criminal. Does It? I'm not admitting to these things. I'm just saying it's a possibility

Oh, come on Mr. or Mrs. judgy pants. You've done it too! Haven't you?

A Change Would Do Me Good: How Losing My Health Insurance May Improve My Life

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

Fall is a time for change. We get a brief glimpse of colorful beauty before the harsh reality of cold days and long nights settles in. Despite our resistance to the oncoming winter, we adjust. We adapt. We turn up the heat and dress in thick sweaters. We eat hearty foods and sleep longer. We make the best from what we can not change. In the end, we may even enjoy it.

I think we can all agree that most change is hard. I don't know too many people who welcome change. Even changing a hairstyle is fraught with indecision, and second-guessing, and stress.

Unfortunately, change is part of life. When the school district moved the 6th graders from the elementary building to the middle school, parents across town were angry and concerned. After all the commentary and angry posts on social media, it turned out to be a better fit for those older kids who were tired of having to line up and march to the bathroom or lunchroom. By 6th grade, they were ready for some autonomy, some independence. The kids handled the change better than the adults

Sometimes changes work out for the best. Sometimes they do not.

Some changes feel like a cyclone is wrecking our lives

My most recent experience with forced change arrived with the blow that I a losing my health insurance. This is a very inconvenient and scary change. Losing my health insurance means that I will have to find and fund my health coverage.

Of course, I am scared and worried about so many things:

• The money. Will I be able to afford insurance?
• The coverage. Will I be able to find insurance that will provide coverage for all the needs I have or will have in the future?
• The search. Where do I even begin?
• The time. I barely have enough time to get things done in my day. How will I find the time to find and secure health coverage before the month runs out?

Rather than allowing myself to become overly stressed and consumed with worry and anxiety, I am choosing to find the positives. Believe it or not, even in the most stressful and scariest of times, we can choose to see the glass half full. By gosh, I'm going to do that.

3 Ways Losing Health Insurance Could Improve My Life

1. Perhaps, I can find an insurance plan that is a better fit for me and my family. I currently have horrible health insurance. It costs a fortune and has a very high deductible and co-pay. I rarely visit the doctor because, in spite of having coverage, I still have to pay exorbitant amounts of money for tests and visits. Instead, I choose to diagnose and treat myself and use Urgent Care for emergencies. This is not the best way to maintain good health and the long-term repercussions could be many.
2. Learning to enjoy the little things in life. This is a major change which will definitely impact our monthly income and spending choices. We will have almost no disposable income because of the expense of healthcare. By not being able to go and do as many things, we will have to return to a simpler way of life. We will be taking stock of what we have and adjusting our perspective about what makes for good leisure time activities. We just may have a better quality of life.
3. Making a career change. One of the hardest things we adults have to decide is when or if it's time to switch jobs. It is scary to delve out into the unknown. We become comfortable and complacent in our careers. A new job means new coworkers, bosses, rules and job responsibilities. We underestimate our abilities to thrive in a new place of employment. We can and will adapt. Perhaps, we may even discover we like the new job better. New work might mean moving and becoming part of a new community which can lead to many great things. Maybe you will fail, but at least you tried. Sometimes a push like losing healthcare is the impetus we need to do what we are too afraid to do on our own.

I am not happy about the change in status from covered to not covered. I am scared about the unknowns. I am not going to let this get me down. I will adjust and we will find a way to make this work. 

Even Cheryl Crow thinks a change would do you good

So as colder days and longer nights creep toward me, I will be embracing much change. I will take a cue from those 6th graders who adjusted and learned to appreciate their change. I believe even this change will do me good.

What life changes have you experienced that have made you better and stronger?

Regret It Then Forget It: Choosing to Live without Regrets

By Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

image plucked from //axtschmiede.com/regrets/

Social media is a hotbed of misunderstandings. A while back I got into a war of words over the concept of living without regret. After responding to a family member who was feeling regretful for a bad decision, I attempted to show her some support by proposing this cousin let go of her regret and embrace the lessons she learned. Appalled and misunderstanding my intent, my uncle made his feelings known. His mistake was confusing regret with remorse.

There is a difference.

Regret is more about wishing you hadn’t done something and trying to avoid negative consequence for yourself. Remorse leads to deep sorrow, guilt and then a confession and apology. Remorse guides you to make amends for wrongs done. Regret just makes you feel bad about your self and wallow in self-pity

I have allowed myself to wallow in regrets. I saw a meme not long ago that said something like, 

Dear person, If I, in anyway, made you feel awkward or uncomfortable by what I said or did, just know I will think about it everyday for the next 50 years. 

That describes me to a T. At least the old me.

I’ll admit that this older me does far fewer things that I might feel regretful about than the younger old me. The young me was nervous and unsure about everything. My low self-esteem made me awkward and stupid. I rarely took the time to think before I acted or spoke. 

This made for many a faux pas that got me in hot water and even cost me some friendships.

Sometimes my regrets morphed into remorse. More times than not it just made me sad and anxious and cost me precious sleep at night. 

When my actions were bad enough that I hurt another person, I immediately felt remorse. With remorse, I would undoubtedly apologize and try to make amends. With regrets, I just hid and hoped no one noticed.

I regretted many things. Mostly little things that really had no impact on anyone or anything aside from my self-worth and self-confidence. Once I recognized that, I decided to take control. I decided to view regrets differently.

Learn From Mistakes

Rather than try to undo the minor infractions and punish myself for being human. I decided to learn from my mistakes. I even tried to laugh and my ignorance and innocence.

Regret: 

Once I asked a guy I knew, who played in a Reggae band, “Are you packing your Jimmy Hat for the concert?” In my mind, a Jimmy Hat was a brightly colored knit cap that Rastafarians wore. I thought I was being clever and cute. He looked shocked and amused as he said, “I guess so, why?” Confused by the look he gave me, I realized I had made a major error. Later, I learned that a Jimmy Hat is not worn on the head, well not the one atop person’s neck anyway.

This is not a Jimmy Hat

I regretted this little error and let it eat away at me for years. Seriously, for years I would recall this incident and burn with embarrassment like it had just happened. What a waste of time and energy!

This was not the only incident that resurfaced causing me to become full of anxiety and self-loathing. Like everyone else, I had hundreds maybe even thousands of things I had done or said since I was a kid that ate away at me.

Regret vs. Remorse

In middle school, I fractured my ankle. I spent a few weeks on crutches and my classmates helped me lug my books up and down the steps as we changed classes. For picture day my mom bought me my first pair of heels. The day before picture day I was still using crutches. When I showed up to school wearing heels the next day, it did not go unnoticed. This was a regretful choice on my part and I have never done that since but neither have I broken a body part since, but I am sure I have learned from that mistake. Full disclosure: I never wear heels so there is that too.

A few months later another girl was on crutches for a broken leg. None of us helped her carry her books up and down the steps. When she approached me and pointed out the injustice, I ignored her. (I have revealed in past blogs that I was a middle school asshole and this proves it). I grew remorseful about this and I hope I apologized but can’t remember. If you are reading this, I am so sorry Vicky N!

Something had to give.

If I did not take control of my penchant for feeling regret daily, I would implode and end up in the loony bin. Now I regret saying looney bin. That has to be a term that is no longer sensitive. Oh crap. Now I feel remorseful for the people I have hurt by writing loony bin. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t write loony bin again. Starting...now!

See, I have learned to turn my remorse into learning experiences and as an opportunity to improve myself, to become a better person. I decided to dust off my ego and realize that most people do not remember my day to day mistakes and have their own regrets to lament. They have no time to replay my minor infractions in basic acceptable behavior and judge me.

I wish I knew that years ago.

Had I known this years ago, I would have slept more. I would have fewer wrinkles and smaller bags under my eyes. I would have put more energy into growing and learning and enjoying life.

I still have a lot of years to live and I look forward to spending less time regretting and more time living in the moment. I choose to learn from my mistakes and learn new things like what a Jimmy Hat is.

This is going to be a great new chapter because if I don't change I will end up in the madhouse. Is that better than loony bin? Oh crap! Okay, starting.....now.