Long, long, ago in a period of my life that I have come to think of as “the lost years,” (otherwise known as law school), I encountered an internet forum for moms.  There were forums for moms of toddlers, and others for dieters.  There were rooms for new people and people from each state.  There were religious groups and groups for discussing racial issues.  There were news groups and coupon groups.  There were also “Debate” groups and “Mean Girl” groups.

The “Mean Girl” groups sucked the unsuspecting into their presence through personal invitations meant to make the invitee feel welcomed into a secret circle.  Once there, the newcomer’s personal profile was scanned to find photos, journals, and anything else that might reveal personal insecurities and vulnerabilities.  The “Mean Girls” would dish out what they could.  The clever and the thick-skinned fired back, and were welcomes into the tribe.  The others left feeling hurt, violated and shocked by the level of meanness that could be dealt out by strangers.

The “Debate” groups were more to my liking.  There, we discussed current events, mommy-wars topics like breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding, vaccinations, leashes for kids, and *gasp* the mean girl groups.  Sometimes the distinction between the two types of groups blurred.  Internet debaters can have a wicked way of getting their points across.

I spent a lot of time in one “debate group.”  The group was filled with women who possessed quick wit and a snarky sense of humor.  Somehow, I became one of the people on the “inside.”  I belonged to secret groups and was an admin.  We discussed situations with other members (and we discussed other members).  My main online persona was generally thought of as kind and warm, but she had a mean streak, and it could cut deep.

One day, I reached out to a member who lived not too far away.  We were going to meet in real life.  She told me something about herself that she didn’t generally share in the group, and I did the same.  I was nervous about meeting her, and she was nervous about meeting me.  Before we had the chance, she shot me a private message asking if I had created another screenname that was meant to make fun of the condition that she had revealed.  I was crushed that she would think that.  We never did reschedule that meeting.

Along the way, a person (or persons) called Suzy_Sunshine joined the forum.  Suzy was smart – really smart.  Suzy was also very mean.  She reached out to me in private message several times, but I was wary, and I never really engaged.  Suzy sent the group into a frenzy with her meanness.  Nobody and nothing was off limits for her commentary.  Nothing was sacred.  She hurt some people deeply with her words.

I thought that my own online person and Suzy_Sunshine were so different that I was absolutely shocked one day to read that several long-time members had decided that Suzy was an alias for me.  I was aghast and posted as much.  I was forced to recon with my own behavior.  I was forced to examine my online behavior and own it.

I know there are some of you who will read this and chuckle.  Others will be baffled.  The short version of the story is that although I was never Suzy_Sunshine, I was guilty of playing the internet mean girl.  Shortly thereafter, many of my “invisible friends” opened up their lives to me on Facebook.  The more I saw of their real lives, the less inclined I was to think of them as faceless entities sitting in front of a monitor.

Another invisible friend with whom I had gone through a falling out pointed out several instances where I had talked about others who believed I was their friend in an unkind manner.  My sharp, pointed wit was pointed out where my words had been used to wound rather than to uplift.  In short, I behaved badly, and I had to own it.

I have come to count on those invisible friends a great deal.  I share many thoughts, ideas, achievements and fears with them.  They have lifted me up, made me laugh, shared their insight and trusted me with their own fears.  I have watched their little ones grow into teens and young adults.  I know the names of their children, their husbands and their pets.

The internet can bring out both the best and the worst in people.  I’ve seen myself on both ends of that spectrum.  I no longer have to prove that I am right on the internet – not that I’m not tempted sometimes!  Anyway, I was never Suzy_Sunshine (and I’m not sure I want to know who was), and I hope that I’ll never again be mistaken for someone who would intentionally hurt even an invisible person somewhere on the internet.

I wish that I had had the foresight to purchase a beautiful new hand-tooled leather journal with handmade paper pages to open for 2015 and write the first words of the new year.  I didn’t have that foresight.  Instead, I am writing here.  It’s okay.

I had a rough start to 2015. Last year didn’t end the way I planned it.  All in all, the past 2-3 months were just rotten.  The events that took place were upsetting, and completely outside of my control.   Those of you who know me best know how hard that is on me.  I try to be a “just go with the flow” person, but it’s just not in my nature.  I like to have a plan and I like to stick to it.  If the plan needs to be changed, I need warning.

Just before events began to spiral out of control, I was in a very good place physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I was feeling so “zen.”  I’d come up with a plan to [eventually] supplement my law practice income doing something that I would enjoy immensely.  I had a plan.  I could see myself taking the steps needed to actualize that plan and realize the goals.  I was PSYCHED!

Self doubt is a funny thing.  It’s insidious (I love that word).  It creeps in slowly.  Before long, it erodes the progress you’ve made.  You fall back into unhealthy patterns that manifest themselves in various unpleasant ways.

We started the new year cleaning up the house this morning.  Before long, I was the only guest at a pity party, and it was a dandy.  I posted on Facebook that I was having a rough start to the new year.  My friends rallied.  One told me that someone was posting as me, because I am a positive person.  That got my attention.  Another told me to physically turn myself around.  I did that.  I spun clockwise, then counterclockwise.  Then, I started spinning and spinning until I got so dizzy that when I stopped, the world kept spinning.  It was fun, but I don’t recommend trying it if you’re over 10.

The world got brighter.  I left the negative of the past 60 days behind, if only for a a while.

I have a fresh notebook with clean pages.  It may not be a leather-bound masterpiece, but It’s not yet spoiled.  What I write on it is entirely of my choosing.  I can’t completely control what happens to the book.  It may be carried off or spilled on.  I’m the only one, though, who can write on its pages.

On the first page, I will list some of my goals for 2015:

* I will register for the first class of several that I need to get the certification I want to reach the goal I have in mind.

* I will continue on my path to greater physical fitness.  As a part of that goal, I will renew my gym membership, enrol in at least one group fitness class to meet new people, and I will continue my running program.  I will continue to eat whole foods and do a better job of staying away from sweets and processed foods.

* Although this is part of my path to physical fitness, it is worth it’s own category.  I will continue to run.  On January 1, 2014, I couldn’t walk a mile without breathing heavy.  Since March 2014, I have run over 330 miles.  I have run on treadmills and tracks.  I’ve run on trails through woods and by lakes.  I’ve participated in (and finished) four 5K races and a 10K race.  I will run my first half marathon in 2015.

* I will reconnect and engage with people.  The second half of 2014 was a very solitary time for me.  I realized only recently how much I need people.  I need to look for opportunities to meet with friends for uplifting each other and sharing ideas.

* I will spend more time in prayer and meditation.  Some of that time will be talking with God on the running path.  Some of it will be communing with others in church, and some of it may even be in less traditional settings.

* I will be mindful of the fact that nobody else is responsible for my happiness (or my unhappiness).  I will take steps to remind myself of that fact.

* I will remember to have fun.  It’s been too long since we took a vacation.  I want to plan a road trip to meet up with some of my network of “invisible friends” who have helped me through so many difficult times in the past 8 years.

* I will worry less about making other happy and instead try to simply do the right thing.  If doing the right thing makes others unhappy, that’s about them and not about me.

* I will continue to share my journey here and continue to refine the plans for the goal that makes me so happy.

That was probably more than a page.  Just writing about positive things made me feel happier.  What’s on your page?

Ebola is the word on everyone’s lips and minds these days.  Although I’m not upset or afraid, I’ve had a reminder of just how interconnected we all are, and how our mobile society has changed the fact of communicable disease.  I was reminded that it is, indeed, a small, small world (cue Disney music – you’re welcome).

For many years, Ebola has been something I was aware of.  I knew it was a horrible, usually fatal disease that happens ELSEWHERE.  When selecting a name for our home wireless network several years ago, I selected the name “Ebola” because I thought it would be less attractive to try to hack into a network named after a deadly virus (and, admittedly, I was trying to be “cute).

As the disease spread throughout the African continent, I still though little of it.  Transporting stricken aid workers to the US did not worry me, either.  When the man who was sick came here from Liberia and was sent home from the ER before taking a bad turn and eventually dying, I realized that this isn’t something that just happens somewhere else, but still thought “it will not affect me and my family.”

On Tuesday, I had a court hearing in downtown Cleveland.  I parked near Public Square, walked 5 blocks past lots of people waiting for lights to turn and past food vendors and bus stops.  I grabbed a handrail to go up the courthouse steps.  I pushed the elevator button for the 6th floor and shared the elevator with another person.

I waited in a crowded waiting area for my client’s case to be called.  I sat at a table in a chair that had probably been occupied a dozen times by a dozen different people throughout the morning.  I walked back to my car through another crowd, had lunch in a crowded diner with a friend, and meandered home.

The next day (Wednesday) the news broke that a nurse who had cared for the dying Ebola patient had been in Ohio over the weekend and had flown from Cleveland to Akron.  Although it still didn’t scare me, I couldn’t help thinking that at some point on Tuesday, I had probably come within close proximity to someone who had been in the airport terminal on the day she flew.

My son works in downtown Cleveland, and at dinner we discussed the news.  Although neither of us felt uncomfortable, both of us had spent time thinking about the likelihood that someone who had crossed our path had likely crossed paths with someone who had crossed paths (and so on and so forth).  Still not afraid, we were both reminded that the access to easy transportation brings with it risks.

On Thursday, I saw the news that my cousin’s son had been on the flight from Cleveland to Dallas.  While it would not be uncommon for the relative of an Ohio family to be on a flight originating in Ohio, this case was a little different.  My cousin’s family lives in Arkansas.  Her son lives in Texas.  He wasn’t here visiting family – he was on business.  I’m not sure I’ve ever met him in person.  Although he is a virtual stranger to me, his mother is not.  We grew up together and although we are not close, we communicate on Facebook and I enjoy seeing what her family is doing.

My cousin’s son is a smart young man, and he has voluntarily quarantined himself.  Although he received news that he was seated within 3 feet of the infected nurse, we are all hopeful that he will not contract the deadly virus.

I’m still not afraid, but I am far more aware of the risks of this and any other disease. I will be practicing “flu season” measures, including frequent hand washing and avoiding touching my face with my hands.  I know the risks of catching this virus are very small.

I know there is a lesson for me in here somewhere.  Maybe there is a lesson for you, too. It’s a small, small, world.  We are not so removed from one another as we might think.

Nearly all of us have had the experience of “having the air knocked out of us.”  That sensation of breathlessness after a physical shock is often accompanied by the reeling pain of the event that did the “knocking.”  It’s frightening and confusing.  However, as we take that big gulp of air and the body’s tissues stop crying out for oxygen, the adrenaline rush calms, too.  We look around to see if the threat to our safety has been neutralized, and deal with it or go on about the day.

Sometimes that blow is emotional.  When it happens, it’s no less frightening and confusing.  Sometimes, the confusion is greater because the enemy doing the “knocking” is unseen.  We cannot physically subdue the subject of our distress.  The source of the pain is either a response to something someone says to us, something we witness, or news that something bad has happened or is about to begin.  We are left feeling helpless.

Sometimes, those “knocks” come in rapid succession from multiple directions.  Having just caught a breath after the first blow, a second and third rain down.  We cannot control others.  We cannot control the thoughts or actions of others.  We cannot control disease processes.  We cannot control many aspects of life that bring us to our knees.  Those are the moments when the first order of business is to remember to breathe… just breathe…

I had planned a different kind of blog post for today.  I thought of something fun to try to make a difference for people affected by an issue that is close to my heart.  Right now, my heart is elsewhere – in my throat.  

Today I forgive myself for not consciously trying to make a difference for others.  Today it takes effort to breathe.  I give myself permission to breathe.  Just breathe.  Just do the things that must be done.  

Today I accept that certain things are beyond my control.  I pray for the grace to accept whatever may come and the strength to be a comfort to the others those challenges may affect.

I can go back to changing the world tomorrow – one breath at a time.

I’m a runner.   I run slowly, but it’s still running.  Sometimes I run with Jimi the Wonder-Dood.  Sometimes I run alone.  I depends on the venue.  Jimi’s not very good on the treadmill, and he’s not allowed on the high school running track.  

Usually I run at night, but today I decided to run in the morning.  The plan was to run on the high school track, so I snuck out the front door while Jimi gave me a look of reproach for ditching him.  My neighborhood is having streets replaced, so it’s faster to walk to the track than drive (as we say, “you can’t get there from here…).  I started my three running apps (they all do different things!) and headed for the stadium.  Taking the “long way,” it’s a nice half-mile warmup, so by the time I got to the track, I was good and ready.

It was a beautiful morning.  It was just a little cool, and the sun was shining.  There were a few dark clouds, but they really didn’t look threatening.  At the track already was a gentleman who I’ve shared the track with many times.  I waved hello and we chatted briefly.  I was happy – happy to be at the track, happy to be alive, happy it was Thursday.  I was just happy.

As I began my laps, a young lady appeared.  Unlike me, she’s a “fast” runner.  I watched with mild envy as she sped by me.  Each lap she would pause and stretch.  I’d run by, and smile, but she never looked my way.

Self doubt began to creep in.

“She must be laughing at my idea of ‘running.'”

I imagined her critiquing everything from my stride to my wardrobe.  I soon began to cringe when she lapped me.  Another runner joined us, and shouted a cheery “good morning” as he ran by me the first time.  I felt vindicated.  Runners should back each other up.  We should encourage each other.  We shouldn’t “look down” on each other because one of us is bigger or slower…

Then it happened on lap 10…  My left leg cramped up.  I stopped, stretched, rubbed.  I tried to run again, and there it was again.  The “run” was over.  I walked/limped the rest of the way around the track, and as I approached the gate, my nemesis passed me again.  She turned to face me as she ran by and extended her hand to “high five” me.  

I shouted, “Thank you!”  I smiled broadly.  The dark cloud that had descended suddenly lifted.  I was bathed in sunbeams and a choir of angels appeared behind me and sang in beautiful chords (okay, that part didn’t happen).  

I was reminded that assumptions are often (usually) wrong.  I was reminded how good it feels to be acknowledged.  I was reminded how significant a difference something as simple as a wave, a smile, or a high five can make for someone who is feeling down, and I resolved to reach out more often.

I’m not about to start hugging strangers on the street, but you may find me doling out high fives at the track on a regular basis.  Jimi loves to give high fives, too.  It’s his sign for “I love you.”  It’s also his sign for “let’s play,” “I’m hungry,” “I’m really, really, sorry,” and “gotta poop.”  High fives are useful when you’re a Dood.