I am changing.

I found this in my phone and thought it was sweet.
Written on 11/5/2015; what a difference a year makes.
And what a difference a consistent sleep pattern makes.
Thank you, Lord, for this life.

Today is one of those days that I've talked and texted and voice messaged ALL DAY LONG. I've laughed, I've cried. I've been cold and I've been hot. I've been up since 3:30 a.m. before that, I slept for a broken up five-or-so hours. When I have the opening shift, I'm so afraid of missing my alarm, I wake up about a dozen times to check the clock. Each time, I offer up praise for the remaining sleep I have and doze off again. Until the final toll, no later than 3:39 a.m., when I get out of bed.

My neighbor was robbed last night by people he had tried to lend a helping hand. As I was offering him my condolences, he told me, "you can't love the unlovely and come out unscathed. It's just the price of a Christian life." I was so impressed by his perspective. After our talk, I wished him well and went about my day. 

A few hours later, I was grumbling to the Lord about how I've been mistreated in a certain situation. Basically, I had extended a genuine, heartfelt gesture and it came back empty. I sulked and complained of how much I've invested into this relationship and now, I'm treated this way! Suddenly, I remembered my neighbor's wise words and it really stopped me in my tracks. You can't love and come out unscathed. But I will still love, and keep no record of wrong done to me.

Father, forgive my trespasses, as I forgive those who have trespassed against me. 
I'm going to be genuine, heartfelt and loving no matter the outcome. It's evidence that You dwell in my heart. It's an honor to love, not just an obligation.

So thank you, neighbor and also a special thank you to the one who hurt me. You are my teachers and I am grateful. 

I picked up some reading glasses at the pharmacy today. You know, to layer with my contact lenses.
Apparently, when you're 40something, your vision can change overnight. Which is exactly what happened to me this week. My distance vision is fine, but trying to read? Forget about it.
Oh aging, you won't get the best of me. I will rise up to meet you at every turn.

Speaking of vision, I've been pondering a lot of things recently. It seems that the spring is when I reassess everything. I always seem to slump in the winter and rally in the spring. So here I am, rallying. I'm realizing I have a lot on my plate, and being intentional to not only validate that for myself, but to honor the state I'm in. It's seems simple, and maybe a cliche, but you wouldn't believe how hard I am on myself. Why can't I get it together? Why do I procrastinate? Why, why, why?
And even with the Lord whispering sweet nothings in my ear..."you're my daughter and I'm pleased with you." Still, I'm so unforgiving.

Women get so blinded by the pressure we put on ourselves. We're hyper aware of our shortcomings while never grasping the magnitude of the load we carry, and all the things we do so perfectly. We shame ourselves, we dont remember we are temples. We should wear motherhood like a string of pearls; heads held high. Instead, we cower because we just want to do better.
Ladies, I'm just gonna say it, we need to change our inner dialogue.
What if we start giving ourselves a break? What if we start being sweet to ourselves? Can you imagine the force we would awaken in our lives?

So check your stats; run the numbers. Stand back and marvel at what you're accomplishing.
I am raising 3 teenagers (who happen to be awesome.) I'm keeping a house, planning and preparing meals, doing all the shopping, making time for friends, I'm approaching my 20th year of happy marriage, working almost full time. I'm doing a lot of important stuff!

All this being said, I've decided to lighten my load when it comes to finishing school. I'm shifting my major from Occupational Therapy (RIP, I was so excited about you) to massage therapy. Although I don't see this as a step down, it's easier to get in and to finish. I just want to get this show on the road and  put my hands to work in a healing way.

I always say, the beauty of being 30 is enjoying all the lessons you learned in your 20's. (Like boundaries- holler!) Maybe the beauty of being 40 is enjoying being yourself. Even with my declining vision, I have a new clarity and perspective. This priceless gift that comes with time; therefore, aging is my friend.

I'm answering the call from my old, abandoned blog. My heart is twisting and churning, and the only cure I know for this type of discomfort is writing.
For the last several weeks, I have been heart-achy and wistful, deep in the sentimental ocean over this milestone year for my firstborn. She's growing up, and I feel a little lost about it.

Over the next few weeks, she'll have her senior prom, take her first road trip to a concert in Tampa, and graduate high school. She also has a new boyfriend, whom she seems to really like. There's no trace of her trademark indifference over boys; a quality for which, many times, I have whispered my thanks to the heavens.

I take pride in her self preservation, as so many of her counterparts give their hearts away far too soon and easily. In a sea of swoony, heartsick girls, she has displayed restraint and fortitude; channeling her energy towards her pets and her friends. So when I see her and the new boy together, I feel like this relationship is going to count for something. He's probably going to be her first love. Often, one's first love is also their first heartbreak. Maybe it won't be for her, but as we all know, it's sometimes the hypotheticals which keep a mother up at night. I never want her heart to be broken, and I don't even care if that's an impossible dream.

I hope and pray that she is ready and has a great time with all these wing-spreading events. I hope they will bring happiness and growth. Above all, I hope I've made her ready for this big ole world.


She's not without faults, but to me, she is her own type of perfection. This little girl who, on August 23, 1997, completely changed my world. I've been obsessed with her this entire time, and I don't see that changing any time soon.

So if any of my friends still read this blog, please say a little prayer for me. Pray that I will have the grace to let go in the appointed times, and the wherewithal to reel her back if she gets too far adrift. That I will find little ways to ease my anxiety when it gets to really brewing because that happens a lot. That I wont miss her too terribly bad when she is out living her life.

Oh, motherhood, just when I think I've settled in, another layer sheds. This love that stings my throat with tears and furrows my brow with worry, is also my greatest joy.

The last time I remember opening my computer to write was Mother's day, but I never made it here. I ended up logging on to my college website, and somehow, as if my fingers were doing the walking, I ending up on the page for the Occupational Therapy program. Reading about the field ignited something in my heart, like someone turned on the lights after a few years of darkness.

Every time I'd visit her cottage by the sea, she'd have a mile-high stack of library books stowed on the bench in her kitchen. Yet the only book she ever told me to read was "Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood." I think she was trying to tell me something, but I never figured out what it was.

My favorite quote from the book, and kinda the anthem of my life, is, "We wear headdresses of the queens who have gone before us. Who ask us to carry on their magic."

I've been waiting to stop missing her, but it just hasn't happened yet.

I've been trying to carry on her magic, but I pale in comparison.

Recently, I've reconnected with a long-lost friend.
The lost part was completely my doing as I checked out for a while. When I gathered the courage to make amends, she was gracious and forgiving. In fact, she has always been a fortress of grace, and she challenges me to be the same.

What has caught me by surprise the most is how quickly we found our former rhythm. The flow of conversation, which weaves between decades and back-stories, history and hopes for the future. Some might call it bunny trails, and maybe get lost in the flow. But for me, it's like a dance. A dance of friendship that spans over 2 decades, 6 pregnancies, countless ups and downs of life.
I look at her and she just knows, and vise-versa.

I'm sad for the years I missed, but it somehow makes it better because with absence came knowing that what we have is magic. Our friendship could never be replicated or replaced. It is patient for the seasons of life. It is not dependent, but giving.
I love us. I love our families that have grown and changed. Our tiny babies that used to nurse 24/7 are now taller than us, more beautiful than us, funnier than us.
We are so different, but tonight when we sat around the table there was a certain feeling of destiny.
We are bonded for life, together forever, and it's magic.

Mom.
Wife.
Sister.
Nurturer.
Friend.

These are a few adjectives I've used to describe myself.
But as I wrote in my previous entry, my existential crisis left me feeling mostly like a fraud.


I went from attaching my sole identity and fulfillment to the aforementioned ways of being to feeling like I'd gladly purchase a one-way ticket away from all of it.
This was devastating to me.

That's the thing; the nugget of wisdom I've gathered. When someone is emotionally checked out, it's easy to just assume they're being selfish, or a jerk, but most likely they're really sad. Nobody wants to be a disappointment. Nobody would volunteer to stop being who they've always been, but sometimes an adjustment is necessary. And it's not always easy. It reminds me of when technology needs to update and you can't go any further until it does. It's usually inconvenient, maybe you lose unsaved work. The system has a process to undergo, whether you want it to or not.

Over the last few months, the only thing I really cared about was sitting on my porch and listening to music. The expression "I need a DJ to save my life" took on a whole new meaning.
I've listened to more music in the last 2 months than a decade combined.
I just had to work it out, song by song, dance party by dance party, tear by tear.

Of course, guilt was never too far away. I'd never spent that much time by myself. I'd never ignored my children like that. Again, this was all involuntary, but I see now why it happened.

Now to the part where I describe my epiphany.

I recently came across an adjective that someone used to describe them-self, "spark seeker." Those words lingered in my head for days on end.
Spark seeker.
I could tell there was something brewing with those words and I needed to discover what it was.
I, at the doorstep of a new decade, have felt the need for something new and exciting.
Am I seeking a spark? What does that even mean?

While pondering this matter that had me intrigued and confounded, I was scrolling through my iTunes and came across my favorite U2 album. The Unforgettable Fire.
3 words I had seen a thousand times were now hauntingly profound, so I dove right in and explored.
My mind quickly painted a picture of a fire. In that fire were the most beautiful moments of my life. The moments that flicker and shine in my mind's eye. Then I thought, what a travesty it would be if i was distracted by seeking sparks that I took my eyes off this fire. There's nothing wrong with sparks, I enjoy them just fine. A spark is a second in time, but this fire is eternal, it's unforgettable. It's my fire, my life, and it's beautiful.

These new thoughts swirled in my head for days; deep sighs and cleansing breaths commenced. For the first time in months, there was no anxiety churning in my gut. I was breathing again. Something I've told other people to do a million times.
Just breathe.
I was breathing and basking in the warmth of my fire. I was feeling better.

In my lifelong quest to find the beauty and meaning in all things, this unfolding of the contents of my heart has found me another step closer to the light. I am feeling so loved and supported by the people who surround me. My people are the glue that holds me together. Being vulnerable over the last few months was uncharted territory, anyone who talked to me more than five minutes was bound to hear a part of my story. I shared my struggle, usually with some manner of sarcasm and self-depreciation.
But without fail, I was heard, and loved, and hugged, and validated, and affirmed. Slowly, yet surely, I was put back together.

Nowadays, I am feeling invincible. Being fresh off the heels of crisis brings endorphins and gratitude. I'm thankful for the redemption that comes after painstakingly digging through the burrows of life. Knowing that even the ugliest findings don't change the truth. Feeling confident that in 99.9% of my life's moments, I was doing the best I knew how to do.
Smiling at a new decade- the one when all 3 of my children will become adults. And finally, without hesitation knowing that the real spark is in me. It's the spark that started it all.

So that's my epiphany, and it's the best birthday gift I could've received.

I wear all black to work, which used to make me feel self-conscious, but hearing an old song put it into perspective for me. It's now playing in my head every time I walk into my store. I'm there to save the day, afterall. I'm there to be light and love.

I see you're dressed in black
I guess I'm not coming back
Hallelujah, here she comes.
-Bono

This might seem like a self-inflated thing to say, or think, but it's true.
I'm coming, y'all. Get excited.

I'm coming down from emotional roller coaster that was turning 40.
I visited some dark places in my mind durning my existential crisis. 
I questioned everything I thought I knew about myself.
I felt like a fraud for representing myself as some master-nurturer, when I hadn't even nurtered myself. So I started doing stuff for me. And sorry-not-sorry became my mantra.
(By the way, stop apologizing for stuff that isn't wrong. Especially the ladies, stop. Don't be sorry for taking care of yourself. )
The main thing was accepting that there's a part of my heart that's lonely.
There was a part of my heart that needed to cry it out, and dance it out, and just be angry a little bit.
As always, in the heights of basketcase-ery, is this beautiful, fluid, messy feeling that I kinda appreciate. As my brother once said, it's better to be a basketcase than dead on the inside.
Well, if that's true, I'm alive. I'm alive and well.

I decided this is my year of champagne. I'll take all the coffee dates and happy hours that come my way. I love the feeling of tingly cheeks and belly laughs. Friends that make me giggle are the only kind of friends I need.  I'm hanging up the life-coach apron for while. Not to say I'm heartless to a friend in need, but it's diffrent now. I'd approach it in an entirely diffrent way.
The best thing we can give people is the best version of ourselves. How does one do that?
My best answer is to get excited about myself.
I choose me.
Maye just for this year.
Maybe for 17 years.
Time will be the tell.

I see the road is rough.
You know I'm not giving up
Hallelujah, here she comes. 
-Bono

My 40th birthday is basically here.