I am changing.

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.

Right after I quit my job in June, I was happily strolling the aisles of a bargain store when I came across an adorable, teal plant stand and quickly snatched it up. Soon, my cart was full of odds-and-ends, and pre-buyers remorse was rearing its ugly head. I was, after all, unemployed and had no business shopping. Standing there, I remembered I had been given a gift-card as a parting gift from my job, so I rationalized my purchase and went about my day.

When I got home, I realized my new plant stand was for a fern. Not only that, it held a very specific sized pot.  So over the next few weeks, I payed special attention to the potted plants at any store I went to and quickly realized finding the right size fern may be an issue. I contemplated taking the stand back, but figured I would try a garden center first. So the next chance I got, I stopped at Lowe's and found the fern section. Much to my dismay, all the ferns were huge.

If you know me, you know I'm a magnet to a clearance rack. I was checking it out and sure enough, a small fern was sitting right there. But it wasn't good news. The little guy was a mess. It was the most wacky shaped, bone dry, hot mess of a house plant I had ever seen. When I realized how dry all the clearance plants were, it made me sad because I thought they all still deserved to be watered. I looked at this little fern and my heart accepted the challenge of bringing it back to life. I needed a distraction from all that was upside-down in my life. As a firm believer in talking to plants, I whispered ,"I think we need each other' and proceeded to the register. On my way to the car, I continued to whisper sweet-nothings like, "I believe in you" and "don't worry, I'll take care of you."

Once I was home, I put it its teal stand and gave it water. It looked better by the end of the day. But over the next few weeks, I saw little improvement. The center of branches were just so dry, I figured my nurturing was too little too late. I considered re-potting it, but then it would no longer fit in the cute stand I had solely purchased it for. I had a decision to make, re-pot it, or see how long it could last. Finally, I realized is was killing it, so I re-potted it and put it on the front porch. Meanwhile, my adorable plant stand stood empty.

Over the months, three to be exact, it has thrived. It's tripled in size, has become a vibrant shade of green, and it's starting to take the beautiful, cascading shape a proper fern should have.

Yesterday I was sitting on my porch, processing some disappointing information concerning one of my children's fate in an art program. I was telling the Lord how my child has been through enough uprooting and I thought we were done with all the changes. As I sat and basked in self-pity, the fern caught my eye. I admired how big and beautiful it was, a sharp contrast to the day I bought it for $1. We were both a mess that day. Oh how far we've come.
I took in the moment, snapped a picture with a brief description and posted in on Instagram.

As I went about the tasks of the day, I'd feel the ache in my heart for my child, and then I'd think of the plant. Feel the ache, think of the plant. I finally realized God was trying to tell me something, so I started listening. He said, "You know the biggest problem with the plant? It had outgrown its pot."
I thought that for a minute, I never considered the biggest problem being the pot, I just figured it was neglected and hadn't been watered. But then I realized what landed the fern on the clearance rack wasn't neglect, rather the garden center doesn't re-pot plants, it's not within their scope. They take care of the plants until they reach a certain stage and then they're done. This is why after watering it for weeks I saw little improvement. It wasn't until I put it in a bigger pot it started to thrive. Of course, looking back now it makes perfect sense, but I had tied it all together until yesterday.

The truth about that plant stand is although it is adorable, it could never hold a mature fern. It could hold a baby one, but there will always be point when the fern will need to be taken out and relocated in order so survive. The plant stand represents my preconceived ideas of where I should be, or how things should look. This revelation put a lot into perspective for me, and shows me how my innate fear of change sometimes causes me failure to thrive.

The concern for my child took me right back to mourning the old, but yesterday, through the live illustration on my front porch, I made a fresh decision to grow where I'm planted. Anything God does in my life is a good thing and it's for a reason. And the same goes for my children. If this opportunity doesn't work out, there will be another one. I will not mourn for yesterday's provision, rather pursue this day and all of it's beauty. I will look back only to reflect on how far I've come.

Me and Fern, we're in this together.

Seems like a lifetime since I've written. The summer of 2014 has stretched itself out over what seems like a year. It was full of lazy mornings and late night movies in the family room.
Beach days, pool days, and some boring days.
I probably made the kids 2 dozen batches of stovetop popcorn and they've consumed gallons of lemonade.
We got off the take-out food train and I've prepared most every meal at home.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, baby! Just like a boss.

Usually, I start summer break so petrified of doing the back to school rush again; the time slips through my fingers, even though I'm trying to grasp it and hold on.
This year was different because I didn't have that pressure looming.
The kids are officially enrolled in online public school and I couldn't be happier about it.
Sure, I'll miss certain things about their fancy private school, but I'm finally excited about our new life.
This easy-breathing I've been doing is a welcomed change in my life.

If you had asked me 6 months ago what I wanted more than anything I would've said "balance".
I was trying to do so many things at once, and I couldn't think of one area in my life that wasn't being cheated. Now everything is different and I am so thankful.

After quitting my job, it took me a month to find a new one. I was trying to enjoy the downtime, but It was financially stressful. While I waited, I got my house clean and (a little more) organized, started meal planning, repotted my houseplants, stuff like that. I was also taking my last prerequisite for the nursing program. Now I just need to retake the entrance exam and HOPEFULLY start the program in January.

I started back at Starbucks in July. It's a mixed bag for me. I love that the store is close to my house, and in my favorite part of town. I love the crazy partners that make me laugh and getting a free pound of coffee every week. I just feel like I'm living in yesteryear as it bring so many memories of doing that job from 2005-2010. It makes me miss my friends in Alabama. And it's also hard work; which is okay, but I'm not a spring chicken, y'all. Oh, speaking of my age status, every single new friend at work has had a conniption-fit when they learned I'm 39.

Here's the basic progression:
I mention my kids in conversation,
they say: oh. you have kids?
I say: yes, 3 of them.
they: ask their ages.
I say: 16,14,11
they say: what? you have teenagers?!
I say: yes, I'm older than I look.  I'm almost 40.
They say: NO! you're lying
I say: who would lie about turing 40?

I guess aging well is cool.

As the new school year begins, I am full of gratitude for so many things. Although I fought, and bargained against, and resisted almost every change that has come my way, I am starting to see it come together. I am seeing that what I perceived as loss was really mercy being given. I feel it now. I feel the mercy. Especially when I walk down the school-supply aisle at target and need 5 things instead of 500.

 

Wow, I've been writing a lot lately. I've been going through so much and it seems putting my fingers to the keys is the greatest release. And the tears, good gracious, the tears.

I found out this morning that I passed Chemistry.
I took the final on Monday morning and I've been a nervous wreck waiting for the grade to post.
I probably checked my email a thousand times, and threw my head back in frustration every time is wasn't there. I knew in my heart I had passed, but it still needed to be official.
This morning when I checked my phone at 5:something to see how much longer I had to sleep, my finger automatically went for the email tab. Muscle memory from the last 48 hours.
There it was among the flash sale warnings and daily ads that litter my life.
Guys, I got a B on my final.

This was such a hard class and it confused me so much. But I could feel that just under the surface, I
understood it. But there was something blocking me, I was overwhelmed.
Another student told me I was over-thinking it and I wanted to punch her in the face, but now I know she was right. I was looking at the information as a whole instead of breaking it down into little parts and I was mentally checking out- this is story of my life.
About 2 weeks ago, everything started coming together, but I had already tested sub-par on 3 units.
Now, I realize it wasn't that hard at all. And to be honest, I kinda liked doing the formulas and conversions.
Anyway, blah.  College is stressful.

But the reason I sat to write today is because with this success, I feel like I need to make a acceptance speech. And I would be remiss if I didn't thank my village of supporters.
They listen to me ramble and make concessions of failure even though I'm still winning.
They tell me I can do it, even though I don't believe them half the time.
And this term, something even more amazing happened.
Someone believed in me with word and deed.

It was the night of the payment deadline for sumer term. My financial aid hadn't come through and the class was set to drop at midnight. This is a very popular class and it was full. If I lost my spot I would have to wait for fall term, which would delay me applying for the program.
Chemistry was a prerequisite for this class and honestly I didn't think I was going to pass anyway.
I had accepted that my whole timeline was thrown off; I had accepted my loss.
It was done.

That was until I get a text from one of my dearest friends asking when I was going to apply.
I proceeded to tell her the saga. (If you know me, you know there's always a saga.)
I'm busy laying it all out when I see the words come across the screen:
"I'll loan you the money to pay for the class."

The  rest of the conversation went something like this:

ME: What? No.
It's pointless, I'm probably not going to pass chemistry.

Friend: I want to. I know I'm supposed to.

I let her pay for the class with every bit of dread, but I was determined to make her proud. I knew how much she believed in me, and it went so much further in my heart than just the money. I hadn't even thought of making a way to pay for that class because I didn't believe I would get there. Isn't that sad? But it goes to show, God's strength is made perfect in my weakness.

So thank you, village.
I couldn't do it without you.
Every pep talk. Every listening ear.
You have filled me with hope and carried me with faith.
I am by no means done, but it feels like a nice place to stop and breathe.
That is for 2 weeks until summer term starts.

As a mother, it's not unusual to worry. Even though people tell you not to, even though Jesus tells you not to, it seems the very second you see the lines on a pregnancy test and you know you're officially responsible for another person, there's a permanent pit of anxiety in your stomach. 

In a few short weeks, I'll be leaving my job. 

The older I get, the more I appreciate my freedom to chose.
I live in a country where I am free, nobody tells me what to do.
Sure, I'm assigned tasks and certain things are asked of me, but I always have a choice.

Over the last few years, I see personal freedom from a whole new angle.
Maybe the years have made me a little wiser, and less entitled, or maybe I'm just now realizing something that isn't that much of a revelation at all. Maybe you knew this all along.
But I'll share anyway.
I've realized personal freedom isn't about doing or saying what you want when you want. It's about having nothing to prove, therefore being okay when you don't get to say your piece.
It's about apologizing when you're wrong, and being quick to forgive.
It's about choosing mercy.
It's about taking responsibility for your actions.
It's about knowing that seeking justice will leave me empty, seeking Jesus is always the better option.

This lesson didn't come easy, y'all.
It came through the fire of personal experience, as my dad would say.
It came through the death of a family relationship. It might as well been a real death, it hurt me so bad.
Ultimately, I was powerless to this person- and that's not typical for me.
She seemed to hold all the cards all the time.
Bullies seem so brave and bold with their reckless words and actions.
I was outraged at how freely she spewed.
I wanted to fight for the truth.
The injustice mocked me as I laid awake at night, watching the ceiling fan swirl.
I would rehearse, and plead for a conversation where I could, just for once, have the upper hand.
"Please, God" I'd say. Just let me tell her. She needs to know.
But I was always met with the same answer, "No."
No.
No.
No.
Finally, I stopped asking.
And it stopped mattering as much.
And then eventually it barely mattered at all.

And then, oh my gosh, I don't even care anymore.

Hi. I'm free.

You see, now I can look at the whole situation thorough the lens of hindsight and I see she didn't have the upper hand at all. She had no power, no cards. She was grasping for straws. She was desperate.
But I was, too. Because instead of forgiving her and moving on, I was stewing and plotting in my own way.
I was a prisoner to my quest for justice
See the irony there?

On this Easter night, I asked the Lord to show me what things in my life need to be buried; the things am I holding onto that keep me from freedom. Because there's always something trying to creep in. An offense, a fear, an injustice.  I've learned the real secret is believing in His power, the power to make paths straight, the power to redeem and shine in the darkest places. He is the resurrection and the life, anyone who believes in Him will live, even after dying.
What more is there?
Just believe God can handle it and live in the light of His love.

This is my definition of freedom.
What's yours?