The Fight

As I stepped outside today I couldn’t help but breathe in every ounce of cool air that my body would allow. Focusing on breathing in the new season and exhaling old ones. For the last few months I have been dreading fall. Yes FALL, my favorite season of the year. And yes, Theo is about to turn one and that has my mommy heart hurting and jumping for joy at the same time, but it’s more than that. 

Did you know that smell is one of the strongest memory triggers? 

For me, fall is filled with the smell of crisp air, fallen leaves, sweater weather candles, and pumpkin everything. They were the smells I waited all year for (and on occasion broke into out of season because they brought me a sense of calm.) I fell in love with my husband in the fall, I got married in the fall, and perhaps most importantly I welcomed my little boy to the world in the fall. But what happened once he arrived was something I couldn’t have expected. 

No textbook, doctor, seminar speaker, or veteran momma could have prepared me for what postpartum would feel like. 

So when I say that I worried my first breath of fall air would fill me with unwanted emotions I meant it. I never did publicly share much about my postpartum journey. It always felt so heavy, something I could carry but that didn’t need to weigh others down. Something that weighed me down so much at times I struggled to raise my hand to tell my story. 

As we enter into a new season, and a year has passed and my precious baby is about to turn one, even though I am still fighting my postpartum illness and mental health everyday, I feel that sharing my story is a way for me to gain closure on those emotions. It is my hope that sharing my experience can help me feel all of the joy, relieve the pain, and help me to let go of any regret I may still hold. 

Most of you already know about my birth story. 38 weeks with gestational diabetes, 36 hours of labor, 1cm, c-section, 5lb 9oz baby, blood sugar concerns, a short NICU stay, tongue ties, lack of milk production, difficulty latching, etc. 

When I was preparing for labor, birth and motherhood I really tried to keep my expectations clear and conservative. I knew some women had trouble breastfeeding and as much as I told myself “if you can’t that’s okay” deep down I knew that if I couldn’t it could break me. I wanted that so bad for my baby, and for myself. Through my struggles I had to adapt and that was something with the surge of hormones I was not strong enough to do without falling apart a little. 

Lactation appointment after lactation appointment in the hospital and following ended in tears. It ended in disappointment, fear it would never work, exhaustion, and resentment of my birthing journey because I truly believed that the early delivery and the c-section made it near impossible for this to work. But still I tried, every two hours to feed, then pump, then sleep, then feed, then pump some more. 

My body was responding horribly to the pain medication I was convinced it was causing more harm than good so I stopped taking it pretty soon after coming home from the hospital. While in the hospital during a breakdown when they took my baby away for the longest I’d been away from him in 9 months, I couldn’t sleep and wouldn’t eat. The nurses tried to prescribe a Xanax but I refused. They ended up giving me Benadryl just so I could sleep. Medication was not something I wanted to rule my day, but I’d just had major abdominal surgery and a large part of me was delivered leaving what felt like a very empty space. It didn’t feel like he was ready and I felt guilty for having GD and having to deliver him early. Eventually I asked the doctor for a Zoloft prescription and they obliged. 

If there was one phrase that was constantly in my head and in my heart through these difficult moments it was “you have to take care of yourself in order to take care of your baby.” Of course once I got home I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t just experiencing baby blues and that taking Zoloft was the right option. I’d heard it could affect milk production and I was already struggling so much I didn’t want to add that to the docket as well.

Little did I know I was in for an even more shocking discovery that would send me into my spiral. 

During my lactation appointment soon after I returned home the pediatrician came in to deliver news that my baby’s newborn tests had revealed that he had a genetic marker for Cystic Fibrosis. My heart stopped for a moment and I couldn’t even hear what she was saying beyond that- all I could do was hug my baby and pray it wasn’t true. It didn’t matter that there was only a 5% chance he had it, it broke me in a way I’ll never forget.

Catatonic.

After that I became catatonic. My husband wasn’t with me when I received the news and I had no idea how I was going to tell him that our perfect boy could have a life altering condition. A condition in which he had known closely and had recently buried a friend who had the condition. (Thankfully we learned later in our journey that he did not have CF)

I remember is lying on the bathroom floor after throwing up and crying and wondering if my mom and my husband should take me to the hospital. My body didn’t feel like my own, and my heart was breaking in a million ways, I was trying to rationalize to pull myself out but nothing worked. All my old tricks to pull me from the depression didn’t work. Even today, as I feel like that person was not me, as I feel like I was having an out of body experience, I’ll never forget that feeling. The feeling of absolute disillusionment, of feeling like I had no control over my thoughts, my emotions or my body. I remember being forced to sit at the kitchen table, take my Zoloft and eat. One piece of lettuce at a time. I had no appetite, and I was drowning in fear that these emotions would never let up.

One thing I always held onto was my absolute love for my child. My love for my husband, and my love and gratefulness for the people who went out of their way to help me through. 

For the next few days I waited anxiously for the Zoloft to begin working, but I felt like I was moving through mud, every moment consumed with fear and my thoughts completely controlling me. Intrusive thoughts controlled me, and my tears felt like they were never going to stop. I could burst out crying at any moment for no reason, or maybe reasons I wasn’t ready to vocalize yet. My mom stayed with me that week, my husband constantly going out his way to get me things he knew I enjoyed, and me wanting so badly to want those things-but falling short everytime. I had this feeling of inadequacy and sadness that I couldn’t respond to his efforts better. 

As I moved through the overwhelming sadness I found that I couldn’t take naps during the day because I’d simply wake up to panic attacks and even in the morning it would take every ounce of strength in me to get up and to move from the bed to the chair. 

And I remember all these things in sadness but I also remember the things that pulled me out of it. Yes of course my husband but honestly? More than that, it was my baby. He pulled me out of every panic attack - all I needed was for him to lay on my chest, the slow breathing of his sleep, the calmness of his demeanor, and his weight on my chest seemed to break up all the panic. I remember begging for him in the middle of the day becauae when I was the most broken, his mere presence put me back together. And that is something that is truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.

I never thought I would get through that time I remember praying that if I had to go to the hospital that there would be a drug, or a shot of hormones that would stop me from feeling this way. And I now know the only way to get through is to hold your baby close, squeeze them tight and pray. Pray for strength, pray for good weather to help you get out of the house, pray that support comes to you in ways you may not expect it. 

I don’t know that I’ll ever stop fighting postpartum. 

Because postpartum is not just the moments after birth and that first incredibly difficult week. It’s not just the fourth trimester. It’s not just filled with fears of being enough, or providing well. It’s not just the feelings of letting go of the way you thought things were going to go and holding onto the things that have to be and that are best for your baby. It’s not just baby blues, or bursting out crying, it’s not the pain of post labor, it’s not the waiting for the milk to come in, or the waiting for answers, or the paralyzing anxiety that kept me awake at night praying to God not to take my precious baby in the middle of the night. It’s not JUST feeling like you could do absolutely everything right and you could still lose your child. 

No that’s not JUST what postpartum is. 

Postpartum is felt in every transition your child makes. From the first time they smile, to learning how to clap, roll over, crawl, stand. It’s in every laugh, tear and bumped head. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that my journey is not over just because he turned one. I know I will continue to feel everything as if it’s a first time feeling. I will continue to fight my anxieties and try to calm my fears. As he begins talking and walking I will remember that my body created this extraordinary human and everything I put into my life from here on out will influence him. 

So for my sweet boy I promise him this. I promise him that I will continue to fight my postpartum anxiety without losing sight of my love for my postpartum journey. I promise never to feel broken but that if I ever do, to remember one hug from him can put me back together. I promise him to never have regrets from my fourth trimester to remember that the moments we spent together, contact napping, feeding, playing, cuddling created this unique connection that I will cherish forever. But perhaps most importantly I promise to always be present for him,always be here for him, and to never forget that he saved me. 

A Woman Who Took a Leap

The last time I wrote was October 7, 2016. Today, it is January 26, 2022. There have been so many times I have come back to my desk, opened up my computer yet no words came to me. Sure, there were times when I could sit down and start a few sentences, and get three paragraphs in and realize, I really have nothing to say- and if I do, no one really wants to hear it. Writers block is an interesting thing. Combined with imposter syndrome, depression, and anxiety - 

It's a writers prescription for disaster. 

I found small moments of clarity in the last 6 years. A Facebook post that just flowed out of me, or a speech that I found incredibly easy to write. But I missed the empty space. The space that allowed my mind to wander freely, where I wasn't worried about 'drawing' outside the lines, being bold, or vulnerable. I have been living in fear that the new experiences I was having weren't universal enough, or weren't painful enough to share. You can tell from my blog that I have exclusively written what I knew, which often times was pain. I wrote when I was feeling lost, or forgotten, or hurt. Of course those emotions are going to drag out some very heart filled entries. 

But what happens when that "Woman on the Edge" I had been writing about all this time, finds herself? What happens when she jumps off the edge and into a world of happiness and love? For me, that meant losing the part of me that dug into the quiet recesses of my soul to bear vulnerability across a blank page. I was thrust into a world that moved so quickly I could barely keep up, much less give my mind time to nest and my soul time to create. 

Less than a month after my last post, I met the love of my life. Of course I didn't know he was at the time I met him. But the world suddenly shifted for me. I threw myself into this love. I took my soul out of the dark place I left it after being buried in hurt.

And, I let him heal me. I let him love me. 

The burden of a blank page never seemed quite as important to me as living in the moment. Adventuring through life with the man who would come to be my forever love. I had jumped off the edge, and never again would I find myself standing on an edge again, too paralyzed by my past to take the leap. 

But, like any great story, mine was not finished writing. Love takes us to incredible places, but the darkness that plagues us is never really gone. It's always waiting under the surface. 

You will hear, through my story, that I married the love of my life. As I sit here writing this story, I am happily married to a wonderful man that treats me like I am the best thing in his life. And I feel love in a way I have never felt it before. We have learned to not only love each other unconditionally, but we have learned how to suppress each others demons. Demons that, no matter how much you are in love, how happy you are, how incredibly blessed you feel every single day, still plague the darkest parts of you. 

My demon, as it turns out, was anxiety. 

A demon that followed me around, likely for my whole life, but that really made itself present to me in the last few years. You'll hear more about how anxiety affected me in later entries, but for now - it's important to know that this anxiety affected everything I did, how I acted, and who I was at my very core. You will hear that my anxiety made me a nervous person, you will hear how it was exasperated by a toxic work environment, political unrest, and ultimately just the everyday terror that living in America brings. However, you will also hear about how my anxiety made me a better communicator, a better listener, and ultimately a better partner. 

My demon, an instigator of complex emotions. A rampant disease you have to know how to tame. But that, on days when you can't - overwhelms every piece of you. 

I have taken the time to love my demons as much as I love my angels. To live in the basements of my emotions, as much as I breathe in the fresh air at the ceilings of them. I have found a way to live with the constant urge to shut down, and I have decided to be brave. Even if you can't possibly be brave every single day.

So rather than talking about that Woman I once was. Standing on the edge looking out into the world, I look forward to talking about the woman I am now, living in that world. I look forward to describing in every distinct way, how my demons affected me in the last 6 years, and how I overcome them today. I look forward to sharing experiences, and not just thoughts and emotions. I look forward to seeing the ways that vulnerability has changed who I am, how I write, and how I share my life on this platform. But most of all I look forward to filling these pages with the words of a woman, who finally took a leap. 

No longer a woman on the edge looking out, but a woman flying fearlessly. 

You'll be Worth Something Someday

Remember when we were younger? Our parents used to buy us a toy and say "Keep it in the box, in pristine condition, that will be worth something someday." And so we do, and we wait and wait, and we give up moments in our life to hope that someday, that little toy bobble head is worth enough to keep us comfortable.

I feel like that's a little bit like my life has been. I grew up in this Snowglobe of comfort, where everything is made to seem like I am living in a box of pleasantries and I am staring out into this big world of opportunity with anticipation. My parents did a really good job of keeping me in that box for a while, I was a timesake, a collectible to society. 

There was this reflection of myself staring back at me in the 

cheap plastic that guarded me from the world that was telling me. 

Stay in there - it's not so great out here, Stay in there and you'll be worth something someday. 

I think sometimes we are taught that we will only be worth something if we stay tucked away, in a chest of memories that become forgotten over the years, but where we wait to be worth something. In a box keeping us clean and pristine from the dust that only collects around our box rather than being like the pain that collects in our hearts. 

We are taught that the scratches of time from hate and misunderstanding will create an image of insignificance. We are played with, as all toys are. We are passed around and spoken about. We are dropped and lost. We are taught that dust only settles for brief moments in time but eventually you slowly make your way to the back of the shelf, a cycle of forgotten importance that creates voids of worth.

I have, from time to time, missed my box. I've missed that smell of familiarity combined with that embrace of certainty. I miss looking at the world through rose colored glasses and feeling like I will be safely tucked away, not forgotten but protected, from the cruel world we live in. And even in times of clarity where I know that the scratches and scuff marks and constant flurry of dust mean that I have lived, there will always be that small voice in the back of my mind, bringing me back to a place of love where my own reflection told me:

Stay in there- It's not so great out here
Stay in there and you'll be worth something someday. 

Take the Next Step

There are times that we dwell in, these times that are meant to consume us. There are also times where we thrive, and that deliver us from the pain of the times that consume us. There are times of passion and realization, but also times of disenchantment and confusion. It's been about 4 months since I have written anything. Call it whatever you want, writers block, mental pneumonia, or a rut. 

All I know is that these last few months have been a whirlwind mixed in these times. Clarity has yet to present itself. Although I can feel myself moving towards some sort of answer. Going through the motions doesn't cut it anymore. I ache for something more, something real to me. 

So it got me to thinking, why do we, as humans, risk so much of ourselves doing things we don't find happiness in? If we truly understand ourselves, why do we feel the need to constantly gravitate away from ourselves daily? 

Is it comfort and familiarity? Or, is it fear? 

From what I have learned? It's a little bit of both. 

I don't think we ever fully comprehend who we are, and there is a lot of beauty in that. Because we are constantly learning who we are, we have this innate ability to keep surprising ourselves. We have this fantastic opportunity to transform ourselves everyday. However, when it becomes difficult for you to progress that transformation, or the obstacles seem to hold you back, that's when you know that something has to change. 

I grew up in a world where you did not give up. Quitting was never an option. You pushed until you succeeded. But one thing wrong with that methodology is what happens when we reach that success? Just because you are successful at something, doesn't mean that it is what you are supposed to live your life by. Success creates this false sense of security. It is why failures are so important too. 

I look at my life now, and the things I am really passionate about. 

Writing, Fitness, Nutrition, Hospitality, People 

Of the things I have mentioned, I am not afraid to admit that I have failed, time and time again. I still fail to this day at some of them. But, the combination of these things, along with the other smaller pieces of my reality make up who I am. And, at the end of the day, my heart truly gravitates towards a life where I can hold each of these pieces close to me everyday, and not feel like they are a million miles away. 

Living on Sunday night anxiety because tomorrow is Monday and work calls, is no way to live your life. It is not the way that I will continue to choose to live my life. The things we are passionate about, these large and small pieces of our reality that connect us to our true identity? These are the pieces of our life that we will truly be successful in, if we give ourselves the chance to pursue them. 

This is why, tonight I make a promise to myself, and you should as well. To stop letting success be a crutch to stay in a position you are not happy in. To stop letting our fear and relinquishment of ourselves to familiarity be the obstacles that keeps us from pursuing our dreams. And to, everyday, move towards the life we know will bring us happiness, and away from the life that only holds the straps to the straight-jacket we allow to strangle us.

Lower your Expectations, Raise your Standards

Everyone is in your life for a reason. That is what they say, right? It's an interesting concept.

We are on this constant journey to understand ourselves. To think outside the box. To understand the choices we make, to understand the things that have happened to us, and to understand why God put that one person in our life that made us forget who we were.

I am not saying I have it all figured out, I certainly do not. Hell, I don't know if I even have it partially figured out. I have bad days, just like everyone. I have days where the pressure becomes too much and I break into a pool of frustrated tears. But I also have good days. I have days where the weight of the world seems to give me some relief. Often times, in that relief I find revelation and understanding. It is important to me to take note of the realizations I make, so as to not forget that I am moving.

What is more interesting to me than the concept that everyone is in our lives for a reason is the fact that one person, as insignificant as they may seem to the outside world, could be the one person that makes you fall apart and come back together all at the same point simply by coming into your life at the right time. And, how that person can do all of this for you, but still not be the one. Confused yet? Let me explain.

The last two years have been hard. And towards the end of last year, months of sedated understandings came to a head and (pardon my french) shit hit the fan. Shit hit the fan so hard that I didn't know if I would ever be able to trust myself ever again, much less trust anyone else. So coming into this year, I had a plan. This year, is MY year.

Well as if "like clockwork" wasn't already my motto, someone came into my life that just had to have my attention, and although I resisted, I eventually gave in, and for as messy as it got, and for as terrible as it was, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. This person will probably never read this, but if they do, I hope they know that they don't deserve me, not because I am better than them now, but because I want to be a better person for the future. I hope they know that they did impact me, and it might have been in the most significant way possible. I hope they know that they did disappoint me, that they could have been so much more, but they should also be disappointed that they couldn't be that.

This is not a perfect formula. But, I do think it is about timing. And I don't think this person was ever meant to be in my life for long. I think they were here for a moment. They were meant to be a tool for me to learn by, not a tool for me to live by. I don't want it to seem like I am heartbroken, I certainly am not. But I think it is important to note that I wouldn't be who I am now without this person, and the insensitivity he always seemed to approach me with.

That's right, I am not who I am because he treated me well. If anything he forced me to look at who I was, and create a progressive identity crisis for myself.

*He told me I didn't know who I was, and in that, I realized I did. I realized I wasn't the person I was   trying to convince the world I was. I was much different.  
*He treated me like I didn't mean a thing, and in that, I realized I meant a whole hell of a lot.

I began focusing on fitness and nutrition, and I have seen things in a brand new light. My head is clearer than its ever been. I would have never re-prioritized had it not been for him. My clear head has me in this weird fog of clarity, an irony in itself.

What parts of the person that I have been telling the world I am, still apply?
Which parts of me have I suppressed out of fear?
What parts have I hidden as a result of pain?

I am swimming in constant questioning about my true identity, and how to be that person again. But, in a lot of ways, despite this identity crisis, my life makes sense again.

I want to be fixed, doesn't everyone? I have come to terms with disappointment. I have let it sit on my couch, as opposed to being snug into my head. I have questioned it, I have befriended it, and I have belittled it. It is so easy to let disappointment take over, and to lower your expectations of yourself, your life, and the people around you.  And maybe to some degree that is necessary, but there is a fine line between lowering your expectations and lowering your standards.

So, here is the point. Everyone is in your life for a reason. And, if they don't stay in your life, the reason is a matter of reflection. Be disappointed, adjust your expectations. Be upset, but don't lower your standards.

But clarity comes in waves. It's supposedly what keeps life interesting. Right now, I find comfort in my journey both physically and mentally. Remembering that my demons will never be stronger than my will to overcome them.

The truth about being "fat"...from a girl who has always been considered it

Stick to what you know. 

I think I have always approached my writing this way. But constantly sticking to things that didn't put me too far out there. Things that didn't show too much of me.

Stick to what you know. 

I finally get it. You aren't supposed to stick to the things that are easy, or the things that feel good to write about. You're supposed to write about the hard stuff.
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If there is one thing I know. It's being curvy.

When I was younger, it defined me. Not that I meant for it to, but when girls on the playground are laughing at you because you have a belly, or telling you that you aren't pretty because your larger than them. It inevitably defines you. I grew up around a constant string of questions.

Why her? Why is she the one bullied?
Why her? Why does she have the health issues?
Why her?

There were years at a time that I remember thinking I was so big, and looking back? I just don't see it. But I was always considered it.

There came a time in my life where I just gave up. I decided that this was who I was, and I did what I could with what I had. Yeah, I mean I did what I could with my body. But more so, I did what I could with my brain, with my quick wit, and with my perseverance. The truth is, growing up fat didn't enable me to be lazy, or to be unmotivated. It caused me to be self conscious, yes. It caused me to be insecure? Of course.

But it never stopped me from doing anything.

Now, I am 27 years old, and there are probably still people who would consider me "fat". And that is okay.  The interesting thing is, that when I get up in the morning, and I leave the house, I see so much more than my body in the mirror. I see a story.

My body tells a story, and it's not one that most people will take the time to get to know.

They'll never know that I see my love handles as something to love, and my smile as something to cherish. They'll never look deeper to see that my eyes are a token of peace, and my height and strength as a sign of perseverance. I will continue to see the softness of my features and imagine the youth I still carry with me, I'll look down at my hands and remember my motivation. More than that though, most people will never know the dedication represented in my mouth, or the hope I hold in my heart.

In some ways, the hardest part of being "fat" isn't even the side glances or hateful words. The hardest part is acceptance. It is accepting your story, knowing that no one can change it. Most importantly though, and something I just recently became aware of, was loving that acceptance, but not allowing yourself to find comfort in it.

So as I have begun my journey towards a healthier lifestyle, I don't wish to "lose weight" or "erase my canvas and start new". No, I don't feel bitterness towards my body in the way that it curves, those curves are a formation of my life, hardships and all.

I am on a journey, but I am transforming more than just my body. I am adjusting my expectations everyday. I am transforming my perception of acceptance. At the end of the day, the story my body tells will have a past, but much like in life, I realize it can also have a future. And I can do it for me.

It is possible to love your body as fat. And its possible to love it as fit. It is your story.
It transforms in all the ways you see it, not how the outside world does.

What story does your body tell?

Weight off my Shoulders

Or weight on my shoulders, depending how you look at it. For those of you who have never read my work before, my name is Chelsea. I got into writing at a young age, but didn't discover my joy in it until much later in life.

So often I find my writing on my blog surrounding the same things.

We are all, constantly, throughout our life, trying to figure out who the hell we are. Some days are better than others, am I right? Some days we know who we are and where we are going, and some days we just look around wondering how the hell we ended up so lost and confused. So this blog has always been about my journey, generalized.

This year I made the decision that I had things I wanted to change in my life. I knew it wouldn't be easy. Hell, I didn't even know if it was possible. I mean I have been doing the same thing for years now, and coming out with the same results -- which is the definition of insanity right? I have refused to believe that I had any control over things in my life, and the situations that I find myself in. Because, if I admitted that, then I would have to admit that I was not doing everything I could to be happy. But this year, I finally admitted it to myself, and have taken steps towards change.

It is easy to tell someone what it means to be a changed person, but its much different when you are the person doing the changing to understand what it means for you, individually to be changed. Everyone evolves in different ways, the pressure they are placed under transforms them into different gems. We all move at different paces, and are motivated in different forms. This is what makes us all so unique. This is what makes us all capable of our own form of greatness.

I can tell you right now that there are a lot of things I am realizing about how I have subconsciously dealt with situations both past and present, but that is a story for another time, and not the reason I am here.

My point with this post is that as I was talking to a friend the other day, I had mentioned it had been a while since I had written. Being a writer herself, she took interest in the reasons I hadn't. My response was simply that I felt I wasn't in a place to make advice to someone about how to reach their goals, or how to be who they were, or how to evolve; if I, myself, didn't have it figured out.

She gave me the best advice.

You're not supposed to write about the destination, you're supposed to write about the journey. With that, I realized that even if I wasn't where I wanted to be, I still had a story to tell, I still had lessons to share, and I still had a voice to be heard.

With that, I hereby commit to never forgetting that we are all just trying to tell our story, one way or another. And the way I express mine, may be different than the way you express yours. My story is more than just the fire in my eyes when I feel passionate about something or someone. It is more than passing glances, and meaningless phrases. My story is in the way I move about life, carefully calculating every move, hidden spontaneity buried deep inside. My story is told by my actions, it is told by my words, it is told by my hardened exterior softened only by my fingers gently tapping a keyboard.

My story will be heard. Maybe it will be passed down. 

Maybe it will be told in deep conversations with the people I love. 

Maybe it will be interpreted from words sprawled out on a screen. 

Maybe it will be told in narratives around a Family Christmas that I have long since attended.

How will you tell yours?

5 Things we should all let go of in 2016

I think its a pretty consistent pattern that I write a blog every year analyzing over and over again what the past year meant to me, what I hated about it, how things were going to be different. Using poetry to somehow mask my feeling of disappointment going into the end of the year. 

This year, I am done with all that flowery crap. This year, I have no problem outright saying that this year was hard. I have no problem outwardly recognizing that it's been a minute since I have felt really good going into the New Year. This year, I know that I am mad. I am mad that I am going into another December 31st with bitterness about the places I have been and the experiences I have seen. So I think it is safe to say that among a laundry list of resolutions my biggest goal for next year is to be happy. 

So, how do you get happy? Well, I am sure everyone has their own ideas. Wine? Chocolate? Gym Time? For me, it is about finally LETTING GO of all the bullshit holding me back. For me, it is about being happy for me, and not for anyone else. For me, it is about finally doing the things I said I would always do but time dwindled and became scarce due to distractions. Letting go is one of those things I have NEVER been good at. But this year, it's time. 

1) Letting go of Past Relationships

   This is probably my number one. And, really, it should be on the top of most peoples list, especially if for the last two years, like me, you have promised to delete his number, or unfriend him on Facebook or block him from your life. Especially if he still haunts your dreams and ruins your day. This year I learned what it meant to be in a dark relationship. Literally, it was one of those situations you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies. A relationship that consumes you in all of the worst ways. I learned what it meant to be swallowed by manipulation, and what it meant to be lied to; ultimately to the point of betrayal. 

   So, no. I am not just going to let go of my past relationships next year, but why not take it a step further. 6 month detox. Your time is worth more than that loser who used you for a year who made promises he never kept, who spoke sweet enough to pull you in but never took the time to be with you. Use your time wisely, detox the distractions, from where I am standing, that could be the biggest difference. 

2) Letting go of idealistic realities:

   I thought I would be out of personal debt by 26. Nope, that was wrong. Life throws you to the wolves every chance it gets. And man, it sucks. Life makes you feel like you are on the right track and then it throws an ocean in between you and your goals. I had a plan, I was making plans, my plans are now just words on a paper. In the last year I refused to improvise which sent me down a spiral of never ending questions and vague answers. So this year? Why don't we just throw the plans out? Goals. That is the only part of our plan that ever works long term. 

   My idealistic reality includes everything that I can't really control. My idealistic reality is an enigma of perfection that will never, and can never, be reached. Because the ocean will always be there, we will always get tired, we will never be able to anticipate the curve balls life throws at us. When we start being realists, we will start to understand that optimism can still rule our choices, and dreams can still be a part of our goals, but we will be able to more gracefully handle the twists and turns of the currents rather than letting them drown us. 

3) Letting go of negativity

   Power of positive thinking. Everyone in my life has been saying these words to me for the last year. Trying to remind me that darkness doesn't last if I start seeing the glass half full. I couldn't do it. Physically, I couldn't. This past year, I couldn't help myself, and part of helping myself would have included accepting others help. I struggle everyday with trying to control my world. But what happens when that grasp you thought you had, slips through your fingers and you have turned down anyone who might be able to hold it for you in the meantime?

   This year, part of letting go of negativity, is letting go of the crazy idea that I can control my world. This year, I will ask for help, and accept it when offered. This year I will put my trust in the people who have proven that they deserve it, rather than those who feel like they deserve it. 

4) Letting go of the people who took advantage:

   When you are a giving soul, who constantly wants others to be happy, you tend to be blinded by those who are taking advantage of you. I have experienced this first hand, and before you say that it's because I have been naive or I haven't wanted to see what was right in front of me, the idea of being blind to the reality of a situation is much more real than just plain ignorance. People take advantage, its just a fact. And those who take advantage take it without a second thought, without an ounce of guilt. It is not naive to be giving, or to want to help others, but when you give it to the wrong people there is a certain immaturity and ignorance to believing that they are the wrong people.

   This year I will help others who need it, rather than help those who feel like they are entitled to it. Give what you can to those who graciously accept your help and stop feeling constantly constricted to feeling like you never want to extend a hand ever again.

5) Letting go of my timeline:

   I was making plans, I have been making plans since the day I realized that I had the power to do whatever I wanted to do, and go wherever I wanted to go. I had my 5 year plan, which turned into my 10 year plan. But I never saw that critical path. I never saw what could go wrong, I didn't plan for things to go wrong. So what happened this year. When things kept going wrong, I lost sight of that 5/10 year plan. In retrospect, losing sight of that plan was the best thing that could have happened to me. It reminded me to live in the moment and experience everything for what it was, not for what it could be.

   This year I will let go of timelines, and remember that everything happens in God's time. I will stop setting deadlines for myself. I will let my life happen organically. I will stop forcing things to happen, I will stop expecting them to be perfect, I will stop being disappointed when things don't go the way I planned. This year, I will live in the moment, this year, I will live.

There is probably so much more I could say. This year? It is MY year, it is YOUR year. Set your sights on what will truly make you happy, don't ignore the things that don't, and cut them out where necessary. Don't wait for things to fall apart, end them before they do. You are given this life to make it a reflection of you. Don't let ANYONE stand in your way.

Its silly to set expectations for yourself in the new year that are completely unobtainable. Be realistic, Be motivated. And if you're not, figure out why and 

LET IT GO

Anniversary for Opportunity

We look at anniversaries as a time to celebrate. A time to relive the joy of the anniversary we are celebrating whether it be with a job, a relationship, sobriety, a big move, or a significant change in our lives. We remember the challenges, the success', the failures, and the joy we experienced in the time. One thing that is never spoken about is when we reach the anniversary milestone of a terrible experience we had. The anniversary of the death of a loved one or a traumatic experience. It's inevitable, that at some point in our lives we will be faced with this anniversary. 

One to celebrate? Maybe not so much. 

One to reminisce upon? Definitely not. 

But it still gives us the opportunity to analyze our lives in a way that we may be so averse to doing in our daily lives as we continue to move forward. An anniversary to look at the change in ourselves, and in the world around us. It is an anniversary that allows us to continue to move on, but to never forget the circumstances which allowed us to do so. 

Today, I mark a timed removal of myself from an experience that traumatized me in more ways than one. I actively remember the fear, the disappointment, and the terror of such a situation. I don't celebrate the experience, but rather, I celebrate who I have become in spite of it. Today, although not a day of celebration for me, is a moment for me reflect on the ups and downs of a year spent in dramatic reformation, a year spent in desperate metamorphosis. 

I take a lot of pride in myself, and in the life I still continue to build for myself. I take pride in my carefree attitude about life, and in my innate ability to allow the aspects of the world to change me. Whether those aspects are purely circumstantial, or a drive for approval from those I hold close. A pride that was taken away from me when the decisions that I made forced me to realize that I had taken to the passenger seat of my own life for a very long time. I had allowed my desire for spontaneity, my desperate need for approval from all the wrong people, and my all too real hesitation for transformation to become the reality, as opposed to the exception.

As I prepared for my anniversary, I placed myself in that same mindset I worry that I will find comfort in it, rather than misery. I choose, for however short of a period, to allow the ignorance that allowed me to fall in the first place, to consume me while I allow my life, the life that I have built for myself now, to continue passing through me out of habit as opposed to progression. 

I write this now from a small place that I found within myself that allowed me to make the decision to not just exist, but to exist better, to become less of an enigma not only to myself but to those who have allowed for my transformation to take place. It's true, that when you first come out of a traumatic experience you go into survival mode. The only thing that you have the capacity to believe, and the energy to progress is to take the steps away from the situation, make better decisions, and hope for a level of recognition within yourself to become evident enough to latch onto so that someday you will thrive.

It took a lot for me to get to the state of existence I find myself in today. It took trust in God, trust in the people trying to help me, and trust in myself that I could move forward and out of my own personally created darkness. It took writing down, and visualizing what I had learned as to not regress. It took me accepting positive energy into my life, and ridding my life of the toxins that blocked my ability to operate at a high frequency. It took me owning my mistake, and making the choice to move forward.

And what has that brought me to? Well, not a state of perfection, I can tell you that much. There are still factors of uncertainty that rule my life. But I make the conscious effort everyday to find opportunity in that uncertainty rather than allowing it to paralyze me. I stabilize my energy by engaging with the world around me, rather than just observing it. I avoid toxic situations and relationships. I build on my affair with myself by committing to being a stronger, more fit, less worrisome version of myself. I fill my time with writing, exploring, interpreting, and creating positive circumstances.

We will never know the joy of perfection, perhaps a state of being that is uniquely perceived through our own eyes. Maybe we will only ever see it in various aspects of our life, but never in it's entirety. We accept that we only have the ability to be certain people at certain times in our lives, and we don't have to be everything at once. We realize the joy in braving everyday with unsteady hands, wobbly legs, and a lack of control. 

My anniversary is no more or less real than the one you may be experiencing, no more or less traumatic. But there is one thing that we all have in common. That, is opportunity. And if you have the courage to relish in everything that opportunity presents then you will move forward without aid. If you choose to exist in a transforming world taking a key role, then you will find that there is nothing you cannot overcome. 

Words

As a general rule of thumb, I have always believed words to be my most powerful asset. Of course, I believe that, I am a writer. I believe that I have the opportunity to impact lives, change minds, create perceptions, and take away loneliness all through words. What are words though? How do we define their relevancy in our own world? They are this abstract channel that influences so much, without really influencing anything at all, unless we allow them to. 

Unless we allow them to. 

I have made a lot of mistakes in my life. Good friends reminding me that we all make mistakes, and the best thing we can do is learn from them. Who has heard that before? Pretty common breakup line, but this time I was thinking a little bit more about it. Think about the last big breakup you went through. Do you remember that debilitating madness that was a masked desire to break things, shout into a pillow, and drink a lot of wine? No, the point of this is not to make you think about your past relationships. But think about how tough we had it! Why did this happen to me? Why doesn't anything ever work out for me? We get so caught up in things happening to us, that we forget that things happen FOR us. How much more clearly could we see the benefit of what happened for us if we analyzed and accepted that we made the mistake, if nothing else, to make certain that we did not make that same mistake again. 

Some of the biggest mistakes we make (or at least us writers...and Taylor Swift) in relationships all has to do with words. Listening. No, not listening to our significant other bitch about work, that is going to happen regardless of whether they are a man or a woman. But rather listening to the sweet nothings we fantasize in our childhood love stories. The little words of love that seem to move early relationships forward, (before the pure enjoyment of silence sets in). 

Some of us put more weight in those words than others. Maybe you call those people naive, but I think most of us are just looking to paint a picture of our ideal love.  What have I learned though? Words are just the outlining of that picture perfect life. They are the small scratches of boundaries that make us feel confident and comfortable in a relationship, but they don't fulfill us in 

the long run. 

I don't know that there are many people out there who have the ability to add color to our sketches. Maybe the right ones, which clearly (illustrated by the subtle bitterness complex I put out into the blog-sphere) I haven't found. 

Basically, at the end of the day words are just words. You can't touch them, they reach your soul but they do not add color to your life. You cannot feel words, they won't keep you warm in the dead of night, and they can't pick you up when your car breaks down. Words are the fluff, they are like eating candy for every meal, they are literately delicious, they give you a momentary feeling of euphoria just before the sugar pulls you into a coma. 

Writers give words so much credit, and in a lot of ways, they are pretty amazing. But they are nothing without the emotion behind them. And in the real world, they are nothing without the actions to speak alongside them. Words are not meant to sustain us. That is what I have learned. I am not bitter about the things in my life that have ended and I don't resent words for the pain they have brought me, but I do recognize that they are only one part of a much bigger picture.

Words are a writers most powerful asset, but they are also their most threatening downfall.

Man of the House

Okay, so yes it is Father's Day, so perhaps this is a repetitive post. We see all over Facebook and Instagram, the channels that share our world with others, moments in our friends lives captured still by a frame and shared to thank their Fathers for everything they have done for them. I know many an amazing father's in my life, some older, some younger, some single, some married, some concrete, some abstract, and some of the most spiritual nature. We see these pictures, and in our own way, we know the amount of love that builds that frame.

I am so happy I got to see my father and grandfather today. The older I get the more I cherish theses moments I have, regardless of length, with the people that make up my heart. I truly believe that a man makes the family, and as I look back on my life, I realize how important this really is.

The man of the house is not just a figure, but a role model, he is not just a provider, but a retriever. The man of the house is an enigma of selflessness, of sacrifice, and of love that is unlike anything else. A Fathers love, so different from a Mothers love but equally as potent. I am lucky, extraordinarily, for the father I grew up with, the father's that make up my life.

We start at the very beginning with two of the most intelligent, strong willed, gracious, faithful men I know. My grandfathers. These are the men that built the legacy that is our family. They are the men that brought me to my cousins every Christmas, every Easter, and every chance we could. My paternal grandfather, who planned, every year since I can remember, a summer family vacation. With cousins that lived so far away, these are some of the most amazing memories of my life. I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would not be who I am today without him. He gave me some of my best friends, found in my cousins. People that piece my heart together, people that support me, and people that I can't imagine my life without. My maternal grandfather, may he rest in peace, built this incredible legacy in his children who adore the person he raised them to be. He made sure that everyone was always laughing and that everyone was always well fed, not only with food, but with knowledge and history. He sustained on knowledge and loved sharing it with us.

It is such an easy act to see, the mirror that my grandfather holds to my own dad. As if he raised him in his image. I see my father and his willingness to sacrifice without hesitation, and without complaint. His strong providing nature, who knows I can take care of myself, but doesn't want me to always have to. I see a man I work to become more like everyday. Who strives for greatness in everything he does, and who stands up for what he believes in. I see a man who has not only built a family, but sustained it, held it in good times and in bad, who has pushed us to our potential, and helped us realize our worth. A man who is truly selfless, has given me everything, and I don't mean materialistically, I mean spiritually, intellectually, and mentally. He has given me what I needed to be the best version of myself, and when I was the worst version of myself, still loved me anyway.

We all have our own stories, triumphs and success' to failures and misunderstandings. We see our lives differently than anyone else, which allows us to see the people in our lives differently than anyone else. For me, my family, my cousins, my best friends? They make up my heart, they are each a puzzle in the madness I am certain is the ingredients that make me, me. My father, playing this integral role in every way has not only been a piece of my heart, but has held my heart.

There is a reason why they say the greatest love story is that between a daughter and her father. It is because he is the person who holds your heart when you are making mistakes, he is the one that teaches you about true love, in combination with our mothers, he is the one that proves that marriages and true love withstands the seemingly impossible. My father is the reason I will someday marry a great man, and the reason I will not settle for less. He is the reason my heart exists, and the reason I can continue to give it to people.

We will all make our mistakes, but each day we are given the gift of perspective. We are given the gift of retrospection. We are given the ability to look through our life, the people within it, and the people who have left it and see the impact of each. Who are the greatest men in your life? How have they made you into the person you are today?

The men of our houses are strong, they are resilient, they are more than a phrase or an idea. They are everything we need without needing anything at all in return.

25 Things I learned in my first 25 years

On the eve of the last night of the first quarter of my life I feel like it should be more extravagant. I feel like there should be this fire inside of me to reflect on what it means to be getting ready to enter the next quarter century of my life. But the fact of the matter is, there is nothing special about it, tomorrow will still be another day, the sun will rise (maybe the clouds will part to show us it), and I will still be me. 

The main difference? How incredibly happy I am. 

Not that the first quarter century of my life has been bad by any means, but lessons learned have shown me that influence took a lot out of me, and that the next 25 years are going to be even better. No quarter life crisis here, except for the ongoing one we battle everyday as humans. Just lessons that I carry with me, and that I will share with you.

These lessons, just words on a piece of paper, give meaning to wisdom and progress our character.

Lesson 1) You want to eat that piece of pizza? Go for it! You want to have that piece of cake? Eat it already! Life is too short to have salad for every meal. Let your sweet tooth savor in the finer things in life, but take care of your body. It is the only one you are given, and at the end of the day, it won't matter how much success you have if your body cannot keep up with it.

Lesson 2) When your mom calls, pick up the phone. Better yet, call your mom, EVERYDAY. You may think she nags you a lot, and tells you things you already know. and all of that may be true. Here's a secret, no matter whether you are an only child or the youngest of 7 children, your mom winged it with you! She did things the best way she knew how, and you wouldn't be who you are without her. Forgive her for not reading your mind.

Lesson 3) When opportunity comes knocking, answer. There is nothing worse than wondering "what if".  Do not open yourself up to the possibility of regret, and even if you do, don't regret a thing in your life, your choices make you, no matter how good or bad they are. Do yourself a favor and immerse your character in the opportunities presented to you, no matter how scary they may seem at first glance, you may surprise yourself.

Lesson 4) When it comes to your schoolwork, or your career, work your ASS off. Study for tests, turn in your homework completed, finish projects on time, and be teachable. No matter what. If that means that you study at the bar on quarter beer night, or you stay up all night and fall asleep on your pizza box before running to class with pizza sauce still on your face, do it. Education is the greatest gift, and a good career is nonexchangeable.

Lesson 5)  Travel. Seriously!! Whenever possible, travel. It is so easy to get comfortable in our lives, superficially happy, but in reality it is easy to slip into just going through the motions. Expand your mind and understand people outside your community. There is no greater teacher than culture itself.

Lesson 6)  Sing. Loudly. In the shower, in the car, in your room. Even if you sing badly, sing your heart out. Music is based in perception. Give yourself the opportunity to stand out. Your showerhead won't judge you, and we all know the guy in the car next to us with a "you're crazy" look on his face, has done the same. exact. thing.

Lesson 7) Don't be embarrassed to be quirky. We are all weird. In one way or another, each one of us does something weird on a daily basis. Embrace your quirk, define yourself by your weirdness, and let everyone know that you find comfort in being eccentric, because normal is just boring.

Lesson 8)  Even if he says he loves you, it doesn't mean that he does. It just means he knows what to say. Words are meaningless if they are not accompanied by the right behaviors, and the right actions. Don't let yourself be fooled by manipulation, and cut it off before you fall. There is nothing harder than climbing out of a hole you have dug yourself. (except for maybe an hour on the arc trainer at the gym)

Lesson 9) Be a total cliche sometimes. "Dance as if no one is watching" "Love teen dramas" because you are a 20 something girl and you can. No one has the right to judge a cliche when they alone, in some way, are a statistic as well. Which brings me to my next one,

Lesson 10) You are a statistic. Just get over it already! At any given point in our lives, we all have a number attached to us. A percentage of how we make up the world. There is absolutely NOTHING you can do about it. Let it ride, and embrace the small piece of this world that you make up.

Lesson 11) Learn to have faith. No one got very far in this world without realizing that there is, at least, some power pushing us forward. The laws of physics, scientifically, will not allow it. For me? It was realizing a divine power, for you, it may be purely scientific. But, from what I learned, is that there are God moments. Everyday there is a way that God shows us that we are not alone, and that we do not have control over everything and we just have to deal with it, and find peace in it rather than fight it

Lesson 12) Date. Date lots of men/women. I don't mean SLEEP with a lot of men/women. But date, a lot. There are millions of people in this world, before you settle down, learn what you like in a mate, what you don't, and whatever you do...do not IGNORE red flags, those little bastards will get you every time.

Lesson 13) Accept support from the people that love you. Your family, friends, significant other, whomever they might be in your life. They are all you have to keep your world from falling apart sometimes. Don't push them away, but rather, keep them close. You may be your own worst enemy sometimes, and they might be the only thing that can save you from yourself.

Lesson 14)  Clean your room/dorm/apartment. The more organized your life is, the better you will feel about things if they get out of control. However, do not, I repeat, do not, be afraid to make a mess sometimes. A mess shows that life continues to impact spaces and rooms and nooks, not just people.

Lesson 15) Explore. Music, Food, Hobbies. How would you even know what you like/don't like if you have never experienced it all? Comfort does us a great disservice when it keeps us from aspects of life that we might enjoy were we to give ourselves the chance to try it.

Lesson 16) Believe in the power of optimism. Negativity will kill you. No, of course not physically (unless you own a light saber and/or know the dark lord). What you put out into the universe, is what you will get back.

Lesson 17) Help others, seek out the less fortunate. Especially when you feel extra bad that you didn't get an A on your last test, or hit goal at work last month. Every single person in this world has more than another in some way shape or form. Use the gifts you have been given no matter how big, or how small, to make a difference. The joy you will see transpire is irreplaceable.

Lesson 18) Spend money on memories, not on objects. Worldly artifacts depreciate. They become rusty with age, and unusable to a certain extent (except for wine, that always gets better with age). Memories are permanently engraved, ripened by experience, and understood with time as opposed to depreciated.

Lesson 19) Get drunk. Or at least go out and pretend you are. I am sure there will be backlash on this one. But I am serious. The best stories come from a night when you go out and you just do whatever you want, whenever you want to do it. Just don't get arrested.

Lesson 20) Drink really good wine. Learn the extent to which your tastebuds can reach. And in the meantime, you can let that pinky flip up with your fanciness.

Lesson 21) Treat yourself. Play hookie, go MIA, get a massage, a facial, a pedicure (yes, even you men out there). Mental health days are imperative to productivity. This is not a scientific fact, but I am pretty sure it is accurate

Lesson 22) Cry. Ain't nothing wrong with a few tears. Feeling overwhelmed? Frustrated? Like the world is against you? There is nothing better than having a good old cry. But when you are done, and there is no more water in your head, drink a bottle of water to rehydrate, wash the tears, and remember that you are amazing, and can take on anything.

Lesson 23) Laugh. Especially at yourself. Because you are funny (looking). No I am kidding, you actually do have a sense of humor, I don't care how serious you come across. You fell up the stairs? Ha, that's life. Oh, and don't worry about that snort at the end of your laugh, no one noticed.

Lesson 24) Love. Everything. Forgive those that made you forget to love them. And love them anyways. Look for the best in people, but don't forget about the worst. Love your life because you don't get another one. If you cannot fall completely in love with your life, how can you fall in love and complete someone else?

Lesson 25) Make mistakes. Your years are nothing without failures, your success is nothing without a few mistakes. Don't be afraid of imperfection. Imperfection is the key ingredient to beauty, defined by our uniqueness. Our individuality defines our outlook on the world, our outlook on ourselves, and the way we deal with our mistakes. Our mistakes do not define us, but they push us, everyday, to be better.

I wish I could say these lessons were easy to learn, but that would be a lie. I have always had to learn things the hard way. But I wouldn't trade a single day in for another. And whether you learn these lessons now, or it takes you a few years, don't believe for a second that anything was not meant to happen...

At the end of the day the biggest risk you take, is not taking risks at all. 

A Beautiful Symphony

Music is the gateway into our past, it is the element of our present, and it is the promise of our future.

I have come to know something I don't know that I have had in a long time. A fraction of my life that I completely looked past, a note within a symphony so overpowered it was lost in the orchestra of different tunes. It is a beautiful symphony though, this symphony of my life. Who knew that one note could change the entire arrangement, the entire sound, the entire impact.

Much like a band of instruments, a song strings together notes. Notes, or brief pitches of noise, some heightened, some deep, some lengthened, and some just around long enough to say they were there for the show. Our songbook is drawn from a string of realities which we create within our own minds. Chapters where our songs sing of happiness, some where they sing of sorrow, some where they are just enough sound to give life to a blank page.

My symphony has formed a good book, its like reading without seeing. It's a replica of my trials, my success' and my small moments of clarity. Heard only by my ears, the music plays over and over, page by page I recognize the instruments, the individuality of every beating drum, of every piano key stroke, of every violin glide, of every breath in and out of the flutes and trumpets that are blaring reminiscence of pride. 

Every once in a while my ears catch it though, That faint clap, that beautiful climax, the sound I long to hear in every page, so silent in the past, but so overpowering now. Its the sound of hope. The thing about this unique sound, is that it can be in the form of whatever instrument you choose. It can be heard by as many ears as you wish, it can be subtle in the background, or it can be the main event. 

The point is, we are the conductors of our own orchestra. Gliding our hands with the changing times, the transition of seasons, the reminders, and the memories. And with the flick of our wrist, we have the power to change it all. The voice that each sound carries louder than the time before, that hope the loudest of them all.

Hope once heard from our basement corners, now fill the halls of our own personal Carnegie, A sound so familiar and so comforting, the world wonders why we kept it hidden for so long.
We replay the noise in our head.

These strokes, which create noise, placed in sequence as notes, as moments on parchment of music teach us how to love. They teach us how to keep memories alive. They teach us how to hope.

But, perhaps most of all, they teach us that we can never learn if we don't listen.

A Woman on the Verge

A year in review. What does that mean to you? Do you look at simple experiences or do you integrate emotion into those experiences? Do you feel the intricacies of how every significant situation made you feel, what you learned from it, what hurt you, what became a blessing from the hurt?

Some years I go into this time of reflection with fear. Truly. Fear for what I have experienced, and not wanting to relive those experiences. Afraid that I wont know what I learned from them, or worse, that I hadn't learned anything. You get over that fear though. A walk down memory lane becomes less dark, but rather a path lit with realities you created along the way.

In years past  I see that there have been struggles along the way, and the path lit was straight and narrow. Taking all the right steps, making all the right turns, where bumps flattened out, where trees fallen had been lifted. Its a path fulfilled, its a path clean, its a path fresh and ready to transition me into a new year.

This year it's different. This year has been the hardest year of my life. Not only in experiences, but in true self discovery. Watching old family home videos the other night made me realize how quiet of a person I am. Maybe not always in the way it seems, but I catch myself in my own head. My words are the most powerful thing I have, Scribbled, and strung along lines of paper, waiting for someone to come along and understand them. I use this as a motto for my life, a channel for my creativity, and a token of my hope for every uncertainty my life holds.

I learned not only what it meant to hold onto someone, but I learned what it meant to let go. I learned that those we want to hold onto the most, are the hardest to keep a strong grasp on, they are the ones we fight the hardest for, at whatever expense {physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually}. I learned that holding on only brings tears. It's an inevitable abandonment. It's your worst fears come true, it's everything you wish so hard you could push away, without the strength to do it. I still don't know where that very thin line is. The one where you lose strength in holding on, where your emotions cause that vigor in which you retain a grasp to be translated into weakness, and where the right kind of strength takes over. But it happens, undeniably. Sometimes it takes days, other times, months, and in my case, years. Being caught up in your own head is a channel for flaws to arise, and instability to result. A clear mind, and a heavy heart cause that burden to finally lift, and you can let go. Sometimes I still wish I knew exactly how it happened. I wish I could diagram the process, but the inconsistency of the mixture is a disheartening recipe.

This year, I learned what it meant to love, but not be in love. I also learned what it meant to be truly angry. Anger so intense that it clouded everything, it stopped my feet, it sank me like quicksand. The only anger that has ever caused me to wonder if I could ever forgive. An anger that broke me, for however short a time, that fueled me in all the wrong ways.

And these are just the small lights along the way, the flickers on my path leading to catastrophe, to complete darkness, blackness that sank me into its depths and in its refusal pushed me to fight the hardest I have ever fought for anything.

The most important lesson I learned this year, has to do with what it means to exist in a world I don't control . I found success this year, a success that I have wished for so long I could experience. A life of mediocrity evaporated into my life where invincibility was a norm, and where the light that led my way was bright, far from a cry of perfection, but I didn't realize that brightness was blinding me.

Its like a train you ride for a while, vision clear, but the speed you take blurs the imperfections in the world around you. Your vision, so unfailing during that time doesn't see that, it sees the colors that come together. But that train never stays above ground for long, and at the blink of an eye you enter a tunnel. Dark and cold, your vision is no longer your own but put into someone else's hands.

You lose control.

This is the year that I found my faith. In the midst of threatening circumstances, in the midst of fear so blinding it takes your sight and extinguishes it, in the midst of a locked door with no key you find a way to move through it. God is the only way. He is the way I have moved mountains of fear this year, he is the only way I have taken back the right kind of control, and let him light my way.

Lessons within lessons within lessons.

Family and Friends are the glue that hold me together, the strength when I am weak and the light when everything around me goes dark. They are the support I need when my knees give out, they are the channel of understanding that keeps me sane, they are the truth in a world of lies.

I have learned a lot in the last year, but as I look back, I don't see that clear and finely lit path, but rather a collection of obstacles moved barely inches for me to pass. A messy stream of realizations that, rather than a light on the path my realizations form a star pattern in the sky which leads me to here. It's never going to be easy, a single blink can be the difference between light and dark.

I am a woman on the verge of something great. Something life changing, and yet uncertainty is the only thing that is certain. I live my life faithfully and without burden, but with a beautiful blindness that proves one lesson to remain true:

I would rather follow a collection of stars leading me  through a messy and beaten path, than to hold onto darkness.

Chasing Ghosts

Why do we feel the need to constantly chase after things that don't exist?
Maybe they never did. 

We lead ourselves into fantasies believing with everything that something, or someone, exists. Emotion leading us blindly to a faction of truth where lies exist. A lie within a truth which exists so scarcely that it masks nonexistence, creating a ghost.

You saw him there though. You remember his eyes, the way he smiled at you, the cadence of his voice and the tiptoeing of his feet as he climbed next to you. You can feel his arms around you, his words move through you, your heart both heavy and lifted at the same time. Most importantly you remember the care he took in every conversation, trying so hard to help you see his perspective. Those words that meant so much to you. 

And then it was if a claw came down and took him. Or the existence of him. And as the loneliness sets in you begin to wonder if there was something could have done differently, if there was some grave miscalculation that brought you here. Then you remember there can only be one, there was only meant to ever be one.And anyone who stands in between was meant to become a ghost, passing in the night. We learn not to chase the ghosts because of the fragmented reality it creates.

We move forward and hope that, that which we let slip into darkness was never meant to be our light.

A Powerful Downfall

Anger. 

Betrayal. 

Destruction of Trust.

I don't think I ever really understood the power of anger until just recently. I am not an angry person. I love even when it's difficult, give even when it is undeserved. Vulnerability in its most passive state. 

I've never thought twice about trusting those who I care about. I believe in honesty as if an innate characteristic of humanity. I observe the world through innocent eyes despite the true and undeniable pain I have felt so as to not become bitter. I have refused to believe in evil as primal and betrayal as a societal norm.

Anger. 

It's probably one of the most life threatening emotions. It has the ability to turn your life upside down; to tear your perspective into unrecognizable pieces; to disfigure rationale and question conviction. Anger is a betrayal of your mindfulness and a conquest of your innocence. 

The world, though observed through the same eyes, yields a very different spectacle. Resentful epiphany soaks your vessels by channel of an excessive heartbeat, weary concern, and disingenuous regard. Thoughtfulness becomes an inconvenience and the willful ability to defer any fragment of obstinance simply fades into oblivion.

You betray the perceptions that create you, you destroy that argument which supports humanity.

The destruction of trust, leads you blindly through pain. 

It leaves no allowance for gain, no hope for retrieval, and no truth where the lies have invaded.

Epiphainein

I have been feeling inspired lately. I have been feeling inspired by something I don't know that I have ever relied on too much before now. Mostly I find my inspiration in the world that surrounds me. I find it in nature, the way that the land has its own language,  how it speaks to me in therapy, as if it is the only energy that really fills me. I find it in the closest people to me, the ones that never leave my side, who never give up on me, and who remind me that hope is better than living in darkness. I find it in my faith, in the belief of a being so powerful that it guides me without a concrete presence, an idea crafted by the most divine nature, a concept of life that carries me.

But this time, it's so different. This time, I am inspired by myself. I spend so much time burdened by who I am. And so often has it led to me searching for confirmation from others. Validation that I am a good person, with a good heart, and a beautiful presence. A burden that has led me to the wrong relationships. A burden that has kept me from pursing the right ones. It is a burden that has forced me to look for someone or something that sees me, but yet who i truly am felt invisible,  even to myself.

The last two years of my life has been nothing short of being stuck on a plane constantly rocked by turbulence. Pain that knocked the wind out of me, and me trying to catch my breath with the air of yet another saturated situation. I have had a lot of time to think about where I have been, and the things I have seen. The mirrors that hold up in my memory reflect confusion,  they reflect a lost soul, they reflect weakness.  I have felt betrayed, by others in my life, by circumstances both within and beyond my control, by my emotions, and most of all by myself. Each reflection a stigma of sadness. Each eye sparkling with a fear of defeat.

I keep thinking that I should feel bitter, or resentful, about these things. That I should be jaded by the pain, blinded by the defeat, paralyzed with fear. But rather than a feeling of debilitating weakness, the muscles contract and with every pump is a stream of hope continuously flowing through me. Failures becoming my opportunuties, and my success' building a staircase of baselines that never seem to summit. My biggest fear being that with every passing situation that the reflection will start to read nothing, as opposed to emotion,  regardless of its positive or negative charge.

Yet I continue to glimpse back,  and retrospectively find a twinkle of hope in every sparkle of fear. Hope that something more is meant from me, hope that one day I will feel the cleansing release of love. Love from another person, love for something I do, and love for myself. I am inspired by my courage, designed to prove that optimism is stronger than pain and fear, designed to lift me above the failure, and plummet me into opportunity. I am inspired by my perseverance,  not just to continue moving forward,  but to continue to hope.  Hope that the future is brighter than anything defining my past. Hope that one day I will find someone who sees me, not only for all the best parts of me, but for all the worst.

Your beauty is defined by who you see when you look in the mirror, not by who people tell you to see. Your strength is defined by your failures, and your courage to rise above to opportunity. Hope can be disguised in fear, it can be limited by pain, it can be stripped away by distrust. When you let go of the resent you hold for yourself, you will begin to hope for the future. You are your own worst enemy,  isn't that what they say?

Finding an alli in yourself is more than a reliability, it is a validation.  Proving your courage is more than a declaration,  it is a staple of your self worth. Seeing yourself, is what brings the world to their feet.

Four White Walls

White.

Multiple meanings strung together

Incomplete, forgotten, uncertain

Mind voided, voice unheard, stories not yet begun

White. 

Formerly a color of comfort, now the color of fear.

Surrounded with no escape.

Meaningless panic 

Bound by circumstances.

Limited power.

I sat on the inside.

I forgot to look up.

Frantic. Motionless. 

I contemplate my next steps

No movement comes.

Not to my lips, nor to my feet.

Thoughts still racing.

Heart still pounding.

Does an answer exist?

Suddenly you're there

Vague and blurred, yet unmistakeable

You look up, fear keeps my eyes on you.

Gesturing up, calmness in each motion

My head tilts, light catches my iris

A circle of warmth draws closer

Pulls me, lifts me, breaks me free

I stand on a meadow of opportunity

My feet with adrenaline 

I see a horizon.

Beauty, Strength, Opportunity

All was lost and now I see

Life worth living

Love lasting

Hope fueling.

Faith worth keeping me here.