Self-care Archives - Dawn Lauren Anderson

Filling Up Your Self-love Tank

How are you filling up your self-love tank?

Taking a month off from writing my blog was about self-love through inaction. But how can you actively fill up your self-love tank?

The last month has been a time of reflection, healing, and slow integration into my local community. So it was a perfect time to focus on self-care.

Since February is referred to as the month of love, I wanted to start this blog with how I spent my afternoon on Valentine’s Day.

First, I visited the Coast to Coast Impressionism Exhibit in the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. For at least a year, I’ve wanted to see it. What do you think stopped me? Conversely, why do you think I went on a holiday about love? How did you spend Valentine’s Day?

HOW I FELT DURING MY VISIT

I felt connected to the locations as I slowly wandered through this exhibit. The western scenes brought me back to my years in Colorado, including the many weekend trips to visit my parents, who had moved to La Garita, Colorado, from Polk County, Florida.

The eastern scenes are closely related to my current area in North Carolina. And the still life paintings transported me to fond memories of painting in oils during my thirties in West Orange County, Florida.

My heart expanded throughout my wanderings, including the history exhibit and photography winners on the second floor. There wasn’t a bit of sadness. Instead, I felt gratitude and appreciation for my decision to feed my soul. I thought, “This is one way of filling up your self-love tank.”

Looking at all the beautiful art made me thirsty and hungry. Since it was a little after 4 pm on Valentine’s Day, my options were limited. I had noticed a neon ‘OPEN’ sign at Six Pence Pub just as I turned the corner off Main Street toward my favorite parking area. The thought of authentically British Fish and Chips had been on my mind for weeks.

The staff was attentive and helpful before their busy time ahead. My Guinness Black and Tan was fantastic, and the array of Royal Doulton Toby mugs before me kept me busy trying to identify them. Of course, I recognized Churchill but had no idea it was explicitly the #9 Churchill Bulldog jug of the year for 1992.

But it was King Henry VIII and his six wives that required opening up a Google search. I only missed two.

Which Toby Mug caught your attention first?

WHAT ELSE STANDS OUT IN FEBRUARY?

I’m the queen of self-discovery through online personality tests. Besides being entertaining, the results explain why I like them so much! I digress.

When I took Strengths Finder 2.0 in 2009, I discovered my strengths: Learner, Harmony, Input, Connectedness, and Relator.

Yes, I love learning new things, including reading all the texts in the museum. (Learner)
Looking at the Toby mugs lined up before me, I smiled. (Harmony)
Researching facts about the Toby mugs makes my day! (Input)
Please let me know your thoughts on this blog in the comments or signup for my newsletter. (Connectedness)
Socializing is important to me, even if social media is currently my primary method. Follow me, and I’ll follow you! (Relator)

Therefore, it’s not surprising that I signed up for three online courses last month. The first one I’m delving into is The Complete Guide to Smartphone Photography. Once before, I signed up for a similar approach that was deeply into social media sharing. However, I quit within a few weeks. Why? Because I kept comparing my results to the other 10,000 people in the course!

One of the assignments involved using each of the possibilities of my iPhone native camera application. I found the Noir filter while using the Portrait mode. Do you ever use filters on your Smartphone?

I can’t end with a colorless photo. Spring bulbs are blooming everywhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Sunny daffodils catch my attention as I drive on familiar roads. Their cheerfulness is welcome after a dreary, wet winter. And almost no snow at my elevation.

But the Iris reticulata I planted last fall have popped up, releasing their cheerful colors. Although they are small and not so easy to spot, I imagine the bulbs multiplying over the next few years to offer a field of blue and purple on the hillside beside my driveway.

How are you filling up your self-love tank? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

With love and compassion,
Dawn

You are a Beautiful Soul

Mom, you are a beautiful soul too. This was evident while planning her memorial service, especially as family and friends gathered to remember her.

You are a Beautiful Soul

Remember that you are a beautiful soul when you start feeling less than your perfection. Because when your life is done, it’s the memories of your beautiful soul that remains.

The First Decision

It was just me when Mom breathed her last. My husband passed three months and three days earlier. My sister had moved to be close to the birth of her first grandchild, and I had moved to a new life in North Carolina. That sounds as lonely as life can be, but there is a unique peace amid loneliness. It allows deep healing.

Waiting until the Saturday after Thanksgiving also gave me time to process the loss of my husband and mother. It helped make it a true celebration of her life. After that, the first decision of place was easy.

Mom grew up in Winter Haven, Florida. It was where she worshiped, and it was my birthplace. So many relatives were close, and those far away could get time off work. It seemed a perfect time.

Holiday Realities

My wedding was six years prior, also right after Thanksgiving. I conveniently forgot about the difficulties during the planning phase. It’s a time when businesses other than retail aren’t always available.

Catering became a hurdle in the week before Mom’s memorial. Suddenly, the restaurant closed for the holiday weekend. Scrambling over the phone with the church administrator, she found a last-minute substitute. Then the plan for dessert fell apart. A change from coconut custard pie to various cakes solved this latest snafu. Some of these calls were while I was at a gas station on my way to Florida the Thursday before Thanksgiving. Oddly, I wasn’t flustered by any of it.

Everything worked out beautifully. Some expected to attend but didn’t show, and a few new, treasured guests were able to make it.

Time Gave Me Space

Compared to my grief at my husband Wayne’s memorial, I felt almost blissful this time. Instead of hiding in the back room for grieving family, my sister and I welcomed guests in the church narthex. Here’s a photo of my younger son, Larry, and me by the sign-in book. Since Mom had been using a weekly calendar as a diary, I chose to use the 2022 book, placing it next to her framed photo.

Many people mentioned how lovely the service was. Part of the success came from a long phone conversation with Pastor Reich. So many small details flowed forth as he asked me questions about Mom’s life. It was like a review of everything that I loved about her. He wove her personality and small acts of kindness into a fabric that was her life. It was then I realized, Mom, you are a beautiful soul.

I told my mother how much I loved her many times while caring for her during the last few years. And she reciprocated.

Take the time this week to tell someone you love them. Give them a warm hug if you can. If they are too far away, wrap your arms around yourself and say, “You are a beautiful soul.” And know that you are a beautiful soul too.

Love,
Dawn

Find Joy Instead of Despair

Mom’s third day in the hospital dawned as I assessed my morning routine. In my quest to find joy instead of despair, I learned to practice self-care in my caregiver role. Even so, there were little messages that I heard but didn’t heed. For example, I didn’t take time to make breakfast, looking up Bojangles’ sandwiches. But I forgot to download the ordering app. So instead, I completed an abridged version of my Reiki practice, showered, and put on makeup, including mascara.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

When I arrived at Bojangles, I tried to go inside. The staff locked it. I backed out of my parking space and pulled into the drive-up line behind two men on foot. They had motorcycle t-shirts on, and there were motorcycles in the parking lot.

I noticed the pile of large river rocks where the speaker and menu had been. The drive-up line moved slowly. As we neared the temporary ordering setup, I heard the noisy highway floating through my open windows and felt the cool morning breeze. I

It was amusing to watch the motorcycle guys order. They jumped on and backed off the sensor plate to let the Bojangles employee know they wanted to order. The taller of the two bent himself nearly in two at the speaker stand. Then it was my turn to drive up and order. The long line behind me was impressive, snaking around the far side of the building.

I closed my passenger side window to reduce the noise. Waiting patiently, I listened for acknowledgment from the speaker stand. Finally, I shouted at the pedestrians in front of me, “Guys! Hey, guys! Motorcycle guys!” Eventually, the shorter man turned my way and started to approach. Then a voice from the speaker stand said, “Are you talking to me?” I answered, “No, but I’d like to.” We all laughed. I placed my order. It was so amusing; I took a photo of the two guys in front of me from my windshield.

As they approached the drive-up window, one said, “This is a first for me, walking in the drive-up at Bojangle’s!”

Mom’s Third Day at the Hospital

Soon I was backing into a space in the hospital parking lot. Gathering my purse, book, coffee travel cup, and changing my glasses, I locked the car and walked the familiar path to the temporary entrance of the hospital. A new face was staffing the makeshift welcome table. After sanitizing my hands and placing my mask on my face, I approached.

“Do you know where you are headed?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m very familiar with the route.”

“I’ve heard that a lot this morning,” she replied.

As I walked through the gauntlet of chairs in the shared emergency room waiting area, I began the familiar path past walls striped with blue painter’s tape. The young man who was patching drywall all week was absent. I missed saying hello or commenting on his steady progress.

You Never See it Coming

Stepping into the waiting elevator, I pressed the button for the second floor. As the doors opened, I saw two unfamiliar masked faces at the nurse’s station.

“Good morning, you guys are new!”

One of the women, striking in her deep blue scrubs that matched the blue of her kind eyes, had moved toward me. I noticed her name tag said ‘Brenda.’ I turned left for the short walk to Mom’s room. Just before I arrived at the closed door, the nurse, who had discreetly followed me, spoke.

“Are you Dawn?”

“Yes.”

“I just put the phone down as I heard the elevator. I’m sorry, but your mother just passed.”

Brenda was ready for my reaction. She took the coffee mug out of my hand as I covered my audible sob. Her sweet arms hugged me as I continued to cry. Finally, my need to purge grief subsided, her hug loosened, and our eyes met.

“Spend as much time as you need.”

The room was oddly silent as I walked to my familiar spot next to the bed. Mom was serene; her closed eyes had lost their tightness. Although her body had ceased to function, I felt her soul nearby.

“Hi, Mom. It’s Dawn. It’s all over. Don’t worry about anything. You can be with Daddy now.”

I stroked her still warm forehead, “I love you.”

I closed the hospital room door and headed for the nurse’s station to thank them. Then, out of the blue, I heard myself telling the story of my funny experience in the drive-up at Bojangles. I knew Mom’s soul was there, too, laughing along with us.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

Hospitals and death can be harrowing experiences. Or they can be joyful. Allowing my emotion’s full impact when I had the loving support of nurse Brenda opened up space for the joy of release. The release was for my Mom and me. Furthermore, it gave me the freedom to relieve the natural stress felt by the hospital staff.

Having experienced the deaths of two husbands, my father and now my mother, in the past seven years has served as a primer for grieving and letting go.

Mom and I discussed death many times. She and I were together at Dad’s passing. And both were adamant in their wish to allow death it’s due. I’m grateful Mom’s end of life wasn’t prolonged and that the hospital staff supported our decisions.

My understanding of the importance of self-care, especially in the role of caregiver, has brought me peace. I have learned how to find joy instead of despair. So, may your life experiences bring you growth toward fulfilling your purpose.