FOMO, Purpose, and Ivy
Ivy is the name of our beloved family dog. Just a few days ago, I wouldn't have labeled her as such. However, this summer has made me realize that Ivy is more than just a pet to each person in our family. Like all dogs, Ivy has a severe case of FOMO (fear of missing out). At night, she doesn't want to go to her primary owner's room because I am usually still awake.
In our family, immediate and extended, each member has a role when it comes to Ivy. E is like the mom in the group. Without her, there wouldn't be a dog. She takes care of all the responsibilities, both good and messy. Hubby is like Ivy's best friend. He cuddles and plays with her, noticing her imperfections and doing his best to improve her well-being. J is Ivy's Uncle, who may not do much daily but pops up to take her for a ride or to the park now and then. He is here for the fun and nothing more. AB is Ivy's high-speed, good-time friend. She shows up like a whirlwind, taking Ivy for walks, and providing exercise, treats, and games. As for me, I may just be a real-life grandma. I rarely discipline or manage Ivy's daily needs, except for filling her water and food bowls. However, I do buy her food. We go for walks and occasionally visit the park. Most importantly, I am there to hype her up or let her chill wherever I am.
Dogs have always seemed like having another child, considering the work and expense involved. Ivy's expensive surgery just one year after her adoption proved that the investment was necessary for our home. She has shown us time and time again that she is worth it.
Like Ivy, I seem to have FOMO when it comes to my kids. I am often torn, like a teeter-totter, trying not to miss any of the moments they include me in these days. Recently, my daughter's boyfriend said I was jealous of them. Reflecting on my emotions after they left, I realized that he didn't quite understand my perspective. I am not jealous or envious; I simply don't want to miss a thing. The loss of a child has transformed this emotion into an overwhelming monster. I have tried to capture every moment through pictures and videos, as if to prove a point. It makes me wonder if my spirit knew that I would experience such loss. Regardless, I long to be surrounded by like-minded people who understand me and dare to just be themselves. During my teenage years, I often felt lost and confused, desperately seeking this connection. My journals and poem notebooks are filled with less-than-eloquent words that hide a sincere admiration for the beauty of life itself.
Words are like nourishment for the soul. But what is the point of using them if they remain trapped in a bubble that never pops? My brain overflows with inspiration, metaphors, figurative language, and comparisons. However, among the wrong people, I feel like a wounded bird, unable to fly. It hurts so much that I can hardly breathe. A pastor once said that we only experience a part of our purpose here on earth, with the rest meant for Heaven. Eternity is never-ending, and our time in this world is just a blip when we truly put it into perspective. This earthly existence is not my true home, and those words bring solace to my lonesome heart. Although this gift of words sometimes feels like a burden, it has its merit. I eagerly await the day when I can bask in the glory of the one who gave me this gift and transform it into the butterfly he has designed. May you, dear reader, also know the promise of this transformation.
Ivy has taught me valuable lessons about love, family, and the importance of cherishing every moment. Through her presence, I have come to understand the depths of my own emotions and the longing for connection. Words have become my refuge, a way to express my thoughts and feelings. This earthly existence is temporary, and there is a greater purpose awaiting us. May we all embrace the wonders of life, find like-minded companions, and appreciate the power of words to nourish our souls.
*dedicated to the best Father-in-love a girl could ask for
Gordon Kenneth Colbert 1-1930 to 7-2024
In our family, immediate and extended, each member has a role when it comes to Ivy. E is like the mom in the group. Without her, there wouldn't be a dog. She takes care of all the responsibilities, both good and messy. Hubby is like Ivy's best friend. He cuddles and plays with her, noticing her imperfections and doing his best to improve her well-being. J is Ivy's Uncle, who may not do much daily but pops up to take her for a ride or to the park now and then. He is here for the fun and nothing more. AB is Ivy's high-speed, good-time friend. She shows up like a whirlwind, taking Ivy for walks, and providing exercise, treats, and games. As for me, I may just be a real-life grandma. I rarely discipline or manage Ivy's daily needs, except for filling her water and food bowls. However, I do buy her food. We go for walks and occasionally visit the park. Most importantly, I am there to hype her up or let her chill wherever I am.
Dogs have always seemed like having another child, considering the work and expense involved. Ivy's expensive surgery just one year after her adoption proved that the investment was necessary for our home. She has shown us time and time again that she is worth it.
Like Ivy, I seem to have FOMO when it comes to my kids. I am often torn, like a teeter-totter, trying not to miss any of the moments they include me in these days. Recently, my daughter's boyfriend said I was jealous of them. Reflecting on my emotions after they left, I realized that he didn't quite understand my perspective. I am not jealous or envious; I simply don't want to miss a thing. The loss of a child has transformed this emotion into an overwhelming monster. I have tried to capture every moment through pictures and videos, as if to prove a point. It makes me wonder if my spirit knew that I would experience such loss. Regardless, I long to be surrounded by like-minded people who understand me and dare to just be themselves. During my teenage years, I often felt lost and confused, desperately seeking this connection. My journals and poem notebooks are filled with less-than-eloquent words that hide a sincere admiration for the beauty of life itself.
Words are like nourishment for the soul. But what is the point of using them if they remain trapped in a bubble that never pops? My brain overflows with inspiration, metaphors, figurative language, and comparisons. However, among the wrong people, I feel like a wounded bird, unable to fly. It hurts so much that I can hardly breathe. A pastor once said that we only experience a part of our purpose here on earth, with the rest meant for Heaven. Eternity is never-ending, and our time in this world is just a blip when we truly put it into perspective. This earthly existence is not my true home, and those words bring solace to my lonesome heart. Although this gift of words sometimes feels like a burden, it has its merit. I eagerly await the day when I can bask in the glory of the one who gave me this gift and transform it into the butterfly he has designed. May you, dear reader, also know the promise of this transformation.
Ivy has taught me valuable lessons about love, family, and the importance of cherishing every moment. Through her presence, I have come to understand the depths of my own emotions and the longing for connection. Words have become my refuge, a way to express my thoughts and feelings. This earthly existence is temporary, and there is a greater purpose awaiting us. May we all embrace the wonders of life, find like-minded companions, and appreciate the power of words to nourish our souls.
*dedicated to the best Father-in-love a girl could ask for
Gordon Kenneth Colbert 1-1930 to 7-2024
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