Weekly Roundup: Holiday fun, self-care, and a look back at 2018

This week’s Hope Is weekly roundup is a mish-mosh of holiday fun, self-care reminders, and a bit of a look back at advocacy efforts over the year. Plus, a bit thank you to all of those patient-centered organizations that welcomed me as a member! I know that the holidays can be a bit a tough time for some, so as much as I wanted to include some holiday hopefulness this week, I also wanted to include some self-care and gentle loving reminders.

Hope is celebrating the winter solstice with friends, yoga, and purple lotus candles. Love that the days are getting longer/brighter. Dark days are tough on mental health at times, so here’s to increasing sunlight!

Hope is sometimes just making it through the day. A friend sent me a photo of this sign and I love it. Right now especially, with increased demands of the holiday season, it can be especially tough on chronic illness. Holiday time is all about love and compassion- let’s not forget to give that to ourselves as well.

Hope is someone seeing the potential in what to others might look ordinary or even bare/empty. Love that someone decorated this tree in my neighborhood with a few Christmas bulbs. Sometimes life is like that – we just have to look a little harder to see the potential in the every day.

Hope is
family, traditions, giving, sharing, love. That’s what my Christmas was filled with. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate.

Hope Is
the chance to take time out for yourself when you need to recoup/recover/restore. For me, this is often mindfulness/yoga, or some other way to calm my cycling brain. Whatever you choose, self care is so important, especially during the busy, stressful holiday season.

Hope Is
finding so many incredible patient-centered organizations this year to be part of. This year I became a #MightyEvents host for @themightysite; became a #webewarrior @healthbeme; joined the @clarahealth #breakthroughcrew; increased my participation in @wegohealth and got nominated for a blogging award; and (not featured because I don’t yet have pics) became a #savvypioneer with @savvy_coop and a #nostigmas ally with @nostigmas. I also met SO MANY amazing fellow advocates through these. Their efforts and openness and hard work and the impact they’re making, and also them just being them and being amazing gives me hope every day.

Hope Is unexpected reminders that you are beautiful (in every way, inside and out, just as you are). I don’t usually whip out my phone in a bathroom, but I love this on the mirror at my yoga studio. Sometimes we could all use a reminder. This makes me smile every time I see it, and if I’m having a rough mental health day, that small moment in which it makes me smile can really help.

For more hopeful posts, and to follow along throughout the week, don’t forget to follow us on Instagram! Wishing you all a wonderful end to 2018!

With Hope,
Maya

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Twas the Week Before Christmas – Some Holiday Inspired Hope Photos

It’s week two of my #HopeIs Campaign on Instagram, and as mentioned last week, I’ll be doing a weekly roundup each Friday of that week’s posts. This week’s photos go Saturday to Friday because I’m weird and that’s how I roll. Without further adieu, here are this weeks’ photos. Several are holiday inspired because… tis the season!

Hope is a reminder to appreciate and honor yourself, exactly as you are. (Inspiration source: bag of yogi tea).

Hope is a quiet morning of writing and coffee at a favorite coffee shop.

Hope is starting the week with grounding early morning (6AM) yoga at a place that always makes you feel at peace at home. These are my people, and finding your people can make all the difference.

Hope is a quiet, clear late fall morning, the light from sunrise letting you appreciate how much you love your neighborhood, a day ahead to full of possibilities. Sometimes, this simple image can help me refresh the clutter in my brain.

Hope is sending messages of love, hope, & peace for the holidays – each one is hand written with and actual message. When I am feeling depressed or anxious, that personal connection, even by being the one writing the card, is huge.

Hope is communicating love. Simple as that. More yogi tea inspiration (I don’t work for them, I promise!).

Hope is a handwritten thank you note for bringing someone joy. In this case, from our neighbor, for brightening up our shared courtyard with Christmas lights on our deck. So kind of them to write.

I hope you all had a wonderful week! Happy Winter Solstice. May your days get brighter as the days get brighter. I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday season!

With Hope,

Maya

To Family, Old Memories, and Making New Ones

To clarify, I mean new memories, not making new family members. Though more babies are born in September than any other month (note: that’s approximately nine months from now), so I guess ’tis the season. But nobody involved in this story is planning on that immediately, so we’ll stick with new memories.

First off, happy holidays, everyone! I hope you had/are having/will have a great one!  This post was inspired by our family Christmas yesterday.

There’s some family history here, so bear with me. My grandfather, my mom’s dad, got a bottle of Galliano liqueur from his boss during his first year of working as an accountant, when he was 22. He would have been in his 90s today, so we’re going back 70ish years. It remained unopened – why I’m not sure, but probably for the same reason people frame the first dollar they made in their business, instead of spend it. Approximately 39 years ago, as he was dying from ALS, he gave it to my mom. I was 10 months old at the time, so needless to say, I do not remember this or him. I have a great memory,  (I can remember back to when I was about 2 1/2), but not that great. So this story is all passed down via my mom.

The Galliano, still in its original box, has made – and surprisingly, survived intact – every move with my mom since then. Buffalo to California. California to Georgia. Another move in Georgia. Georgia to New Jersey. And finally, to the house in New Jersey where I grew up and my parents still live. She’s been saving it for a special occasion. In this time, her kids and stepkids (there are 5 siblings total) have all gotten married, and there are now eight grandchildren. So I feel like the clock has been ticking on the Galliano. A bit of a “if not now, when?”.

Yesterday, as myself and my husband, my brother, his wife, and their two kids sat in my parents’ kitchen, my mom declared, “Let’s open the Galliano tonight!”. Apparently, its time had come. Let me pause here to say that we actually had to google what exactly Galliano was, other than generally knowing it was a liqueur.  Also, at least three of us were nearly certain that the bottle would contain, as my brother called it, some of the best vinegar in existence. I mean, it’s in a glass bottle and, while it has sat in a box all of these years, is over 70 years old. The chances of it not being skunked were pretty slim, in our opinions. But this bottle had survived two owners and at least six houses, probably seven (I’m not sure if my grandfather received it while living in the house my mom grew up in, or the one before). We owed it the dignity of a fair chance.

So, we opened it. Low and behold, it was perfectly fine. I can’t really compare the taste to anything else I’ve had – it’s called an herbal liqueur, which I anticipated to taste, honestly, pretty rough even if not skunked. It conjured up images of liqueur made from parsley, oregano, and other questionable ingredients. For the record, it didn’t. At least not to me. The closest thing I could compare it to is limoncello, but it isn’t nearly as, well, lemony, and has a different finish. I’m about to make it sound disgusting, which it is not, but it almost has a finish akin to when you’ve just had a throat lozenge. Not the taste, but the airy, passageways cleared out, feeling.

As we toasted each other and family and Christmas, it felt like the passing of a torch somehow. A nod to the memories of the past, and a commitment to those of the future.  A lot has happened in those 70-odd years since my grandfather got that bottle, and the almost 40 years since he gave it to my mom. My grandma (my mom’s mom), who survived her husband by 30 years, passed away in 2008. She had nine grandchildren, and I believe three great grandchildren, two of which were only 3 or 4 years old at the time, and may not remember her. Were my grandparents still alive today, they’d have 9 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. Their own three children have traveled the country and the world. They’ve made countless memories over the years, some together, and some with their own individual families. In these years, the remainder of my grandmother’s’ siblings have all passed away, and as my grandfather was the youngest of his siblings by something like 15 years, I’m guessing his have too, though we aren’t in contact with them so I can’t be sure.

The Galliano opening was, in a way, the end of an era. Of the nine of us grandchildren, only two have any memories of my grandfather, and even those are probably a bit hazy, though I can’t speak for them. We are now the ones getting bottles of wine or bourbon or other presents as a thank you. Who possibly have a gift still in its packaging years after the fact, that we haven’t yet brought ourselves to open and will one day pass down to generation that follows, still in tact. And if we are all lucky, we are the ones that, years from now, when the current children in our family are all grown and perhaps have children of their own, will sit around recounting stories and memories together one holiday and say, “Remember that Christmas when we finally opened the Galliano?”.

 

gallian

The Galliano, post sampling, on my parents’ kitchen counter.