W.O.W. SUNNY SUNDAY 09/20/15

“Sunny” – What would a Health Blog be without some uplifting, inspirational anecdotes and mantras?


“The other shows us ourselves in a forgotten light, as someone less dull than we thought we had become. We look at each other and we love ourselves”



Do you know someone like this ?

Someone who reflects back to you the person you wish to see?

Someone who reminds you of what it means to be alive?

Not just ‘living’, but truly alive?

Do you have someone in your life for whom YOU are this person?

Someone to whom you give life?

Someone to whom you validate worth and purpose?

Take stock of the people with whom you spend your time…

Do they fit in this category for you – or you for them?

Do you wish they did?

Or, perhaps, you prefer it the way it is – connected enough…but not too close?

These are not questions anyone else can answer.

Nor, are they questions, which you can afford to not answer.

I challenge  you to take time this Sunday. And sit with these questions…

Love them.

Hate them.

Rejoice in them.

Cry for them.

But be present with them.

You get but one turn on the Carousel of Life, you owe it to yourself and whoever or whatever you believe in, to love yourself and to surround yourself with those you love.

looking glass


“Therapeutic” – Gain insight into your Actions [sometimes called ‘behaviors’] and how they may be functioning as a direct result of Thoughts and Feelings


Let’s start our session this month with a piece of literature I came across.  It is an adaptation from a publication in the New Yorker by Brenda Shaughnessy.

Backward Circles

I have a time machine

It travels into the future at a rate of one second per second


This seems slow to the physicists and to the grant committee, and even to me.



I manage to get there time after time, to the next minute and to the next.

Whether I want to or not.
Because you see – I can’t turn it off.
Or slow it down.

And if I try to get out of my Time Machine, open the latch and just jump,

well I’m quite certain I will fall into space, unconscious, then desiccated.


And I’m pretty sure I’m afraid of that.

Sure enough to stay inside.


I have a window, though
It shows the Past.

It’s like a television and a fish tank all rolled into one.

But it’s never Live streaming and the fish swim in backward circles.


Sometimes, it isn’t a fish tank at all,
But a rear view mirror
Offering another chance to see what I’m leaving behind.
Why is it that we can’t make up our minds about whether or not we want [need?] Time to go faster or slower than it actually does ?
Why is it that we have so much trouble just being okay with where we are at?
Did you know that desiring to be in a different moment than the one in which you find yourself is the source of anxiety?
Think about it …the whole notion of anxiety is grounded in this sense that you are unsettled – what is more unsettling than finding discomfort in the moment in which you are?
And then not being able to hurry up and get to a different moment or slow down a nice moment to make it last longer?
Ah! Stress!
It’s really that basic.
Think, too, about how sometimes it feels like you CAN manipulate time…you know how there are some people in your life who, when you spend time with them, time seems to either drag or fly by ?
Or, what about when you are going on a vacation – the difference between how long it FEELS it takes to get there versus how long it takes to return? You traversed the same miles, did you not? So how can it feel longer or shorter?
The truth of the matter is that it is related to anxiety.
Think about , the angst of wanting to arrive at your destination makes it feel like it will never get there …you are desiring to be in a moment different than the one in which you are.
Similarly, most of us wish our vacations could last longer, and we are in no hurry to return to reality [i.e. work, etc] and it seems like the plane must certainly have flown at vortex speed…
Again, we are desiring to halt time to avoid the next moment. But we can’t.
So maybe we even feel a tinge of depression alongside our angst?
Now, sure, we Americans have loads of pharmaceuticals we could shove in our mouth to make us not care about anything I just wrote about, or perhaps we could try to stay present.
We could meet ourselves where we are at daily, by the minute, by the second.
Don’t wish for a Time Machine.
Don’t try to make one.
Time is the one thing that no matter how wealthy you are, you can’t get more of.
Do what you can to find peace in your moment and smile when you look in the rear view mirror.
After all, it wasn’t meant to steer you forward, it was meant to help you see a bigger picture  and arrive safely at your next moment.
And so it is with your Past.


A Pressing of Time

Once again I find myself at the heels of poetry for the Daily Prompt
Click the link for full details.
2014-10-26 12.52.45

A Pressing of Time

Our time
Is coming to a close so quickly
I feel desperate to get through to you

This sensing of urgency

This pressing of time

I can’t seem to shake it from my mind.

What makes a month?

A week
A day

But the seconds

Those that pass with you

Those that pass with out

I’m feeling frustrated

I’m feeling stuck

Those seconds that pass

In your absence

Don’t feel worth very much
What is the ‘ pressing of time ‘ ?
It almost sounds hopeful
As if
If I squeeze Time tight enough
I can fit more into the tiny spaces of my World
Our time
Is coming to a close so quickly
I feel desperate to get through to you

This sensing of urgency

This pressing of time
I can’t seem to shake it from my mind.

Indeed my fellow Mis[ter] Fits, Life is too short to miss.
Be cognizant of your actions and recognize that Time, like the Ocean, must be respected for the power it holds.
For better or worse, Time cannot be pressed, pulled, elongated, twisted, or turned.
It is the finite “show” that must go on.
It waits for no one but yields to those who harness it.
Stay Well,

Those Lesser Parts – A Daily Post

In response to the Memoir Madness from The Daily Post: Recall a time you felt disrespected, passed over, unappreciated, or “less than.” Now write a story, poem, or bit of flash non-fiction about it.


To find one’s place is hard enough/

Let alone deciphering all that moral, political, and religious stuff


Of course

There’s school and work, and trying to make a friend or two

You know – someone who doesn’t only want you around for a good screw?

They’re out there, they are;

What I can’t say for sure is exactly where… or how far.

Sometimes I think I’m rather bright;

But the older I get, the more I realize, this world harbors more dark than light.

 What do you do

How do you act

When this world fools you with falsities for fact?


You know

I really did think I could help the world not to suffer

And that someday, some good man would ask me to look in the mirror and whisper,

“See that woman? I love her”

Maybe that can still happen.

I’m sure there is still time.

But is it so wrong to want it now, that sweet sublime?

Most nights I refuse to look at myself straight in the face

All dressed in my sheers and lace

Excuse me, Sir

Do you know the pain that comes with knowing my My Place?

Sure, sometimes it makes sense;

It even seems right and not so hard

But then that familiar feeling begins suffocating again.

The Heart

All empty

And marred.

 I blame thee naught, O Universe.

It is only to thy Self I cry and curse.


You see

My problems

They seem to be created by those lesser parts of me

Those Deep,



I carry






 Surely I can’t be alone on this dismal path

Surely I cannot be the sole victim of soul wrath?

I feel as though I’m desperate for a kin –

A friendly face who knows what it feels like inside this skin.

Everyday I feel more certain


Everyday it becomes more clear

My parents were right when they told me,

“You aren’t like the others, my dear”

If only I’d known how true that would be


I could have saved myself some of the mistakes and misery.

~MissFit 08/06/2014

Weekly Writing Challenge: Perspective Through The Ages

Once again, the Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge has inspired the poet inside of me.

sq peg

As you may or may not know, while my name is Miss Fit, my legal, given name is Margaret. As some of you may also know, the name Peg is sometimes used as a shortened name for Margaret. When I was a young lass, I went by my middle name “Marie” for largely functional reasons. First of all – Marie is 5 letters and Margaret is 8 letters. When letters seem insurmountable as a general theme, the more of them there are, the more pain-inducing it can be. I could stop here and just let you all assume I cant spell anything over 5 letters… but, thank goodness I outgrew that limitation rather quickly only to find another barrier in my way. See, I was born in 1987. Dennis the Menace came out in 1993.

Margaret Wade from Dennis the Menace

Margaret Wade from Dennis the Menace – note – also has red curly hair and glasses…

There was a character arguably more annoying than Dennis. Her name was, as luck would have it, Margaret.

At any rate.

Over the years I suffered from somewhat of a mild identity crisis. By the time I was 19 I had gone by somewhere in the ball park of 8 different names – all dependent on context, desired outcome, and levels of intimacy. Those names included but were at no time limited to: Marie, MAGS! [always yelled in excitement], Mar-gret [my legal name said with stress on the last syllable rendering the second “a” useless and always muttered in annoyance most frequently by a parental unit], Missy [as in “missy Prissy” also uttered by a disgruntled parental unit], Maggot [don’t ask], Toots [really don’t ask], Mag-a-toon, Peanut Head [the picture below should answer any questions you may have], and the occasional Margaret Marie [in which case all bets are off, I’m either winning a major award or in serious trouble…]

Beneath all that red curl hair, yes, my head is shaped like a peanut.

Beneath all that red curl hair, yes, my head is shaped like a peanut.

Alright, well now that I have sufficiently embarrassed myself out here in cyber space, I will cut to the chase: the inspiration for the title of this poem came from posing the question “Why is ‘Peg’ a shortened version of Margaret?” to a somewhat philosophical friend of mine. See, I have always felt a bit… well , out of place [Hence the name Miss Fit] and there is a common metaphor use to describe misfits – “a square peg in a round role”… how had I never seen that before? Philosophical friends are good like that.

Well, my dear readers, over the years I have matured – as have my views of the word, and I have since adopted the name “Peg” quite proudly.

My views are not necessarily popular. But then again, neither am I.

Here’s hoping for Pure Poetic Justice:

  Square Peg Girl in a Round Hole World

“Which is Better”, Peg thought:

To buy what you want, or to want what you bought?

To have a fine house – the envy of the neighborhood – you know, the kind people drive by and mutter, “My, they must be doing good”…

Or to have a place that you call home, a modest car or maybe two, and a best friend to ring on the tele when you are feeling blue?

I’m sure written out in the way I’ve just done;

Yes. I’m sure when asked this same question of your daughter or son…

The Answer seems simple and matter of fact.

But what would you say, dear siblings,

Yes, my Brothers and Sisters;

Just how would you react,

When I tell you this tale is not so simple as a matter of fact.

I’m afraid some of you will find the story of Peg to be rather sad;

For those of you who do, you simply never realized the choices that you had.

Born to be Good,

Or inherently Bad?

Born to be Happy,

Or inherently Sad?

These are the kinds of Questions that filled Peg’s head,

Questions like these that entered in one ear, then took root when She was lying in bed.

More Questions than Answers, there was always a Theme;

A thin, yellow Thread woven throughout a Dream.

I once sat with Peg over a cup of tea;

I had no way of knowing just how special my time with Peg would be.

You see, Peg told me about the woman from whence I came;

She shared truths with me that ensured I could no longer view the World the same.

You see, she said, her name is Mother Culture;

She birthed us all.

Funny thing is, without Us,

Mother Culture wouldn’t be here at All…

Peg asked me to name a few things I despised.

I quickly belted out, “Poverty, Abuse, and Lies!”

Peg smiled.

Peg then asked me to list one thing I felt was supremely unfair.

I looked her straight in the eyes in a dead stare and muttered,

“Parents burying their children is never Fair.”

Again, Peg smiled.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this encounter – was Peg really taking such atrocity so mild?

Or was it that Sweet, Square Peg had every reason to Smile a lot

Because Sweet, Square Peg knew something I did not.

You see, Peg had seen Mother Culture when she was Invisible to the masses;

Peg knew when to take the somber approach and when to wear the rose-tinted glasses.

Peg knew the ultimate question shouldn’t be about how to get above;

The ultimate question must stem from our inherent Need to Love and Be Loved.

Peg taught me to ask why We do the things We do;

To question the multitude of actions performed at Society’s Cue.

You see, I understand now that in many ways We inflict the Evil that surrounds;

Much the same as we impart the Happiness that abounds.

I no longer turn away as I feel Peg’s intellectual advance throughout my day.

I no longer scoff or wish her intuitive messages would just turn off.

Peg, I embrace You for the unique difference that you represent –

Be that a figment of imagination, a demon, or an angel sent.

For it is now that I boldly admit,

This Entity, Peg, is in I

And I in It.

We are the Square Peg Girl in the Round Hole World,

Waiting anxiously to help Destiny Unfold.