A Chance to Live Another Day

“Thanksgiving comes to us out of the prehistoric dimness, universal to all ages and all faiths. At whatever straws we must grasp, there is always a time for gratitude and new beginnings.” – J. Robert Moskin

If cats have nine lives, I’d consider them to be unlucky.

From where I stand, I’ve been granted over nine thousand.

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I was 20 years old when I grew up for the first time.

(Admittedly I’ve had to grow up a whole bunch of other times since then … but that was the year that I learned it wasn’t all about me.)

It was 1993 when I

  • learned to get out of other people’s heads

  • stopped guessing what other people wanted from me

  • talked with my mom as an adult, and no longer wondered “but what about me?”

That was also the year when I

  • learned to see things for what they were rather than what I wished or feared

  • looked at myself in the mirror for the first time and actually liked the person looking back

  • simultaneously saw my separateness and inherent interwovenness with every other human

It was also the year that I lost my mother.

She had been fighting a family lawsuit that tore her down.
The stress of the familial strife was too much for her CNSL (Central Nervous System Lupus).
It killed her.

… and at first that nearly crushed me.

Here I was … young, newly aware of myself in the world, but never having had the chance to share that with her. I’d been at college during my whole transformation … only getting to see my mom once in the six months between my “aha” grown-up moment and her death: that one time was when I’d returned home through Chicago O’Hare, to be met by her at the gate with tubes trailing from her nose to the oxygen tank trailing behind … her body and face puffed out from all the prednisone she was taking.

When I was called home a few months later, as it became apparent that she wouldn’t leave the hospital this time, she was already unresponsive. No more conversations. No more sharing our stories.

As I sat next to her … held her unresponsive hand ... and watched her draw her last breath, one thing became crystal clear to me ... that I’d spent the past 15 of 20 years hiding myself from the world … and from her. And now at the exact point when I was excited to share and relate with the world in a more authentic way, I realized it wouldn’t include her. She would never get to know me, nor I her.

Although as my mother, she probably knew me better than I appreciated
(a fact I can only consider now that I’m a mother),
from where I stood,

she slipped away from this world not knowing who I really was …

just as I had never fully known her.

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I loved my mother.

She was filled with light:

loving,

forgiving,

with childlike innocence in her eyes.

And yet …

although I sobbed at the anniversary of her death for ten years afterwards,

would feel down and depressed for the next ten years, as if out of nowhere, as the month of June would come into sight …

and am sad that she’s not around to meet my husband, play with my children, and have an adult-to-adult relationship with me,

I AM grateful for one REALLY CRITICAL point in her death:

I’m thankful that when my mother drew her last breath,

although I hadn’t been granted the years I’d have wished for, to get to know her,

I was at peace:

  • in my relationship with her

  • in my relationship with MYSELF

Because I was at peace with the person I saw in the mirror …

I was also at peace in the relationships of my life.

This part is so important … it’s worth repeating:

by the simple and impactful truth that I’d gathered the courage to like myself

and was able to look at myself in the mirror with kindness in my eyes,

all my relationships … from the key ones on down … were set into a rightful place.

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Put another way …

The fact that I knew who I was and who I wasn’t, made it possible to say good bye to the most important relationship of my life - that of my mother.

If she had died six months earlier, I wouldn’t be able to claim that victory.

And because there’s power in that peace,

I work every day to make sure that I can say that same thing about every other relationship I have … regardless of the significance in my life.

*****************

In the 26 years since my mother’s relatively early death (she was 59)

I count the 9000+ days I’ve lived as if they were individual lives.

What I’m talking about is all the days
I’ve been given another chance to make things right …

a chance to do things better than I did yesterday.

Specifically …

  • a chance to live another day

  • an opportunity to forgive more fully

  • another swing at bat

If you’ve seen “Groundhog’s Day”, you’ll know what I mean.

Every day gives me a chance to make up for

  • that critical thought I had about the person standing in front of me in the checkout line

  • being a poor listener when my child needed to tell me something important

  • only viewing what my husband is not rather than all that he is

Each day also gives me another chance to

  • take better care of myself than I did yesterday

  • give my clients even more impactful results

  • ask more important questions to create transformative experiences

Because it is how we give in this world that defines our peace.

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Every turn of events in my life, whether “good” or “bad”, has left me with some gift … a gift to be used to help others.

In fact, I’ve noticed a clear line of connection between the subjectively negative experiences in my life and how much more I have to give to others as a result.

These gifts allow me to help others to achieve the results that I’ve been honing for 20 years: specifically to like to person reflected in the mirror.

I’ve been given the gifts of

  • empathy through my dealings with depression … and the vulnerability that accompanies that

  • intuitive listening through having a deeply depressed and sick mother who needed to share her pain

  • trusting my gut through having bullies in my childhood who could not contain their unhappiness

  • physical power through knowing how awful it feels to be pinned down in life and to have no power

  • communication through hiding and pretending for so long, that writing became my safe outlet

and I use these gifts to

  • have empathy for your pain

  • listen for not only what is being said, but also what is left unsaid

  • teach you how to have self-talk that is protective

  • give you the tools to build a powerful body that invites confidence

  • provide as many resources as possible to help you learn

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If there’s a seed … a kernel … to everything we do, this is mine:

When we like the person we see in the mirror …
our world, relationships, and opportunities transform.

We realize that we’re
worth fighting for
worth protecting
worth caring for.
We learn that we don’t really know what other people think
that other people’s thoughts can’t touch us
and that our power begins with acting according to our own values.

As we take steps every day to like the person we see in the mirror,
we attain unparalleled peace.

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The path to liking the person in the mirror is unique for each of us,

but the tools to get us there apply to all of us.

Our mission at The Fittest Me is to help you learn to love the body you have while you work towards the body you want. We do this by developing:

  • your mind (where the mind goes, the body follows)

  • your body (a strong body propels us to confidence)

  • habits of discipline (365 day of practice makes for a much different future than zero days)

I still have many chances to live another day:

  • to experience joy

  • to love

  • to build strength

  • to lead my family, clients, and community in health

  • to hold clients accountable

  • to ask the questions that create transformation in you

Book your Free Call today to discuss what’s stopping YOU from liking the person in the mirror.

Claim the only life you have.

Build strength of mind and body to achieve your most treasured goals.

Learn to love the person looking back at you.

Because we want you to achieve

“Strength for Life ~ in a body you love”

-Rebecca

Rebecca Boskovic