Thirteen.

For some, it’s considered unlucky. For me, thirteen was the number of years between my two hospitalizations for depression. These years represented a time period of ups and downs, of profound despair intermixed with times of joy. My two hospitalizations were bookends for a tumultuous time in my life.

Now, thirteen is my number of hope.

This morning, while driving my children to school, I glanced up at the overcast clouds blanketing the sky and thought, “Let It Rain!” Uncharacteristically cool and dark for a May morning in Dallas, this weather has proven to create the perfect day to officially launch the Welcome The Rain movie.

I wonder why I have the tendency to use superlatives when describing my birthdays? My happiest birthday. My worst birthday. My darkest birthday. (Dark being my euphemism for depressed.) My most fun birthday…EVER! I, as I’m sure many of you, have such high expectations for this day. This day carries with it an extra weight. Have I accomplished what I thought I would accomplish? As a child, did I envision that my life would be different than it actually is? Do I really behave like a ___ - year old?

Today, I turn 31.

Last week, I made a mistake. Oh, my intentions were good. The mistake was a complete oversight. But, I felt terrible about it. Ironically, this same week, the excerpt that The WALK THE TALK Company chose to send out from my book was from the chapter titled Welcome Mistakes. In this excerpt, I had written, “The way we choose to respond when others make mistakes can cause them to feel ashamed or can allow them to remember our kindness and share our stories with future generations.”

I thought to myself, “Well, sure, when others make mistakes.” I find it fairly easy to extend compassion to others. However, when it comes to forgiving my own errors, it can be quite painful. After I realized my mistake, those old, mean, familiar thoughts began to pull me down: You’re a failure…

We’ve taken five mini-vacations so far this year. Nothing big. But still, there’s packing, traveling, sleeping, socializing, abundant eating and drinking, dancing, sleeping, traveling, and unpacking. A few weeks will pass and then we do it all over again. Most of our travels this year have taken us to visit family in Mexico. So, for me, the trip looks something like this: pack, travel, sleep, socialize, listen, translate in my head, talk, listen, translate in my head... Even though I’m quite comfortable speaking Spanish, I’m not a native speaker. It still takes my brain a day or two to switch gears and once again be able to easily process this foreign language.

I’ll never be one of those tall, elegant model types. For me, at 5’3”, it’s never going to happen. I’ll also never be the mysterious stranger or completely happy-go-lucky and carefree. And I have great rhythm when the music's on, but turn the music off, and I’m a total klutz. But, I am who I am.

I can become so caught up in my own thoughts that I don’t always look around me to see what obstacles are in my path. I have a friend that I’ve known since childhood. She knows how easily I can trip, fall, or run into things. Even now, when we’re talking and walking down the street together, she’ll say pole or curb, right in the middle of the sentence. I know to look up, move over, and we just keep going.

So, it’s kind of like that feeling you get after the big Thanksgiving Day meal. You’ve eaten so much that you have to undo the top button on your pants. And while the weather outside can be rather chilly, you’re inside the cozy, warm house, resting on the couch, trying to watch the big game on TV. But you keep dozing off. Yet, this feeling doesn’t only come at Thanksgiving, it happens most days. Ah, the sleepiness of it all!

A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.

The first time I heard those words, I was six and he was larger than life. Charismatic, confident, and courageous, he spoke directly to me and convinced me that, yes, Michelle, there is a time to dance. OK. So he wasn’t actually talking to me. (I was six. It’s OK to blur the lines of reality…when you’re six.) He was Kevin Bacon and he was quoting Ecclesiastes in the famous town council meeting scene in one of the greatest movies ever: Footloose.

I haven't blogged in a while. Haven’t felt too bloggy lately. Seems that it was my “time to be still” …or as still as a mother of two wiggly kids could be. But it's now time for me to write --- I mean --- ride again. So, here I am, getting back on my horse named Blog. And speaking of horses, here’s a picture of me when I was seven, riding my real horse, Nugget.

Seriously? Did I really do that? Say that? Act like THAT? Seriously?!?

Why, yes I did.

Whatever “that” may be, I sometimes look back and all I can think is, “Seriously?”

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and writing about "weathering the storms." Often, it is not our choice to face life’s difficulties. Many times, adversity is forced upon us. However, there are times when we create our own chaos.

I have this tendency to run into things. And a few weeks ago, I whacked myself a good one. I waited until now to share it with you because I’ve been too embarrassed. But, here goes.

Oh, this was no sign post. (Been there!)

Not a small support beam. (Done that!)

Or even a big ol' pole (Yep, you guessed it!)

This was a huge pillar:

I had always considered myself “a lover not a fighter.” Always. I love peace. I love the absence of conflict. I love everything in my world to be in harmony. I love to see the beauty in things and people. I love life to have purpose and meaning. And I love having a healthy mind.

When my mind is healthy, I am able to love life. I am able to be at peace. I am able to find beauty and meaning in most things, even if they appear, on the surface, to lack both beauty and meaning. And I now know that because I love my healthy mind, I will fight to keep it.

I will fight to keep myself healthy so that my thoughts will be optimistic, my relationships positive, my life beautiful. I’m realistic enough to know that the rain will come. And it may knock me around a little bit. But, even through the storms, I am feisty enough to claim what is rightfully mine: my healthy mind that is always within arms’ reach. I may be gentle, but believe me when I say: I am a lover and a fighter.

There comes this moment, after you’ve been sick, when you realize that you can breathe again.

No longer is your body fighting itself. No longer is your head in a cloud. No longer do you want to crawl into bed and just sleep the day away. There comes this precise moment when you realize that you have been restored to health. When the world is set right…once again. When the fog has been lifted and you can see with clarity…once again. When life is beautiful…once again.

Ahhhh…

What a wonderful feeling it is…to breathe again.

It was a day of fellowship, stories, and tears. Last Saturday, my mom and I participated in two community walks. We began our day walking in the AFSP’s Out of the Darkness Community Walk. My mom is full of spunk and sass and doesn’t have a depressed bone in her body. But, she knew this walk was important to me, so she gladly joined in.

If I look inside I hope to find
The girl who is the real me.
Who loves to smile and loves to dance.
Someone who is free.

Free to laugh and free to love.
And free to sing off key.
Free from worries of the past.
Free to be the real me.

~ 2008 Michelle Sedas

Today, I wish you peace.

Peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work.
Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart.

~ Unknown

I am an inspirational quote kind of a girl. I love quotes.
And I have a new favorite one:

Do what makes you Happy.
Be with those who make you Smile.
Laugh as much as you Breathe.
Love as long as you Live.

~Unknown

What would it be like if I allowed a typo to slip through in this blog and I didn't go back and fix it?

Some of you laugh at the idea that someone could get all riled up about a typo. "A typo is no big deal." Yes, you are right. A typo is no big deal. But there are times when, in reference to a typo or some other minor misstep, our perspectives can become so skewed that the mistake becomes a gigantic screw-up. Or, in grammar terms (I love symbolism!), times when a typo becomes a HUGE TYPOGRAPHICAL ERROR. When those times come, then please read my message to you.

Dear friends,
When you begin to blow your typos out of porportion, and become so focused on preventing errors that you've lost all objectivity, then repeat after me, "A typo is no big deal. There are bigger things in life. I will focus on what matters. I will try to do my best, but will learn to embrace my imperfections and if a typo slips through, then so be it."