38 is going to be great....it is going to be great.. For the past few weeks this has been the mantra I have been chanting in my head. My birthday is right around the corner and I am going to turn 38.....

I do not feel 38.. or 37... I am not sure how old I feel. 25 some days...32 others..most often about 98 as I lay in comfy clothes too exhausted to move from the couch.

I flip through pictures from the past 20 so years. The major difference is my head seems to have quadrupled in size..it used to be so tight, cheek bones and nice structure..Lately it looks like a watermelon. ( I am sure it has nothing to do with the cake I consume often).

Back to the upcoming year of 38..

I have some big dreams brewing.. and some little ones..

Apply for a Ph.D program...run...save money...shrink my head...seek honest and vulnerable conversations (and actually have them!!), be a way better mom, eat less sugar (HAHA!), listen more, have patience....

The list could go on forever.

Overall though, to be great at 38 I really just need to BE ....be reflective, be patient, be healthy, be frugal, be present...

Cheekbones

BE ME....

Be me with a smaller head face :)

Chunky monkey cheeks!

Facial structure

By the time I am 40!

Wise Road

There are some memories you cannot seem to shake.
They cling to every fiber, every thought. One such memory has cemented itself in my brain.
I still often wake up to it from dreams..nightmares really.

7510 S. Wise Road.

I grew up there for a large portion of my childhood. I can see the house clearly.
I can feel it. I can smell it. Each time the bile rises to my throat.

I hate that house.

I hate the memories that reside there.

I hate it. I hate what it did to me. I hate how it still takes up space in my brain.
I hate how I can gasp awake, out of breath, and think I never escaped.

Shame, embarrassment, anger, disgust.

7510 S. Wise Road.

The walkway that was often filled of cat feces.

The garage. Hoarders dream.

The kitchen without flooring. Rough wood with splinters.
The sink with the 5 gallon bucket underneath.
Every time I did the dishes I would haul the water out to dump so it would not splash over my feet.

My room. Mice often sneaking in through the laundry room, hiding in my closet.

The living room where he always was.
Staring at the tv. Never bothering to wear clothing except for off stained tightie whities.
What grown man wears white underwear. Repulsive man who did not work.
Instead sat in those underwear. The image burned in my mind.

The bathroom. Almost as wrenching as the him.
The toilet that couldn’t flush unless you used another 5 gallon bucket.
The smell of urine and human waste wafting through the rest of the house.

I hate that house.

Ironically sitting on Wise Road.

20 years later I realize.

It did make me wise.

Wise..I will never live like that. I will never live with someone like him.

Wise.. I will persevere through any challenge. I will beat the odds.

Wise..I will kick and scream and fight and dig out of any trench.

Wise..I will use those memories to serve children, families through my career.

Wise.. I will have compassion and empathy that can only come through experiences.

7510 S. Wise Road.

Wise, indeed.

As much as I hate this chapter I realize it wrote the pages of the future.

All the women....

 Growing up I felt so out of place in my extended family. I think this was even reaffirmed when my Great Grandma made me a quilt and explained how the pattern was different because so was I. However, as I have been growing older and experiencing more of life's obstacles I have realized that there are underlying themes that despite surface level differences connect me with all the women in my family.

Recently, my grandma's sister passed away. It was hard on my family back in Michigan as it was not planned. Also, difficult because my Aunt Sharon was a staple in the family. She had this infectious joy that surrounded her. She was also as adorable as could be. Red hair, freckles, and a little button nose. She made you feel good when she was around. When I think of her I think of, "hope." For some reason she just resonated that to me. The loss of her has made my mind continually think of the women in my family. My mom, grandma, aunts, cousins. They have been on my heart constantly. .
There is one central theme that continues to emerge.

I COME FROM A LONG LINE OF STRONG WOMEN.

Life has thrown all the women in my life curve balls. Maybe even more than curve balls. Probably those pitches in baseball that pelt the batter. Yet, these women keep going. They never give up. I think my grandma Betty said, "we don't air our dirty laundry so I won't get into details. However, aunts, cousins, and so forth have battled abusive marriages, addictions, severe mental illness, sorrows and other challenges. Despite this we have also risen. Not only risen, but thrived. And it is beautiful and amazing. It makes me so proud to know that this is my history, my background, my blood.

Thinking about this makes me realize all the gifts this has given me...

1) Empathy: Many times members of my  family have struggled. Yet, they give and share and love others so wholeheartedly. My grandma worked in special education, my aunt works in special education, my other aunt ran a title one school, a cousin is fighting rural poverty. Any time there is anything everyone bands together to help, raise money, make food...whatever it takes.

2) Creativity: Not only are the women strong they are artists. I can't say I have a ton of this gift, but a smaller dose. My great grandma could quilt and crochet. Even when she lost her eyes she continued to create. My cousin is a brilliant photographer. She can depict feelings in her photographs and capture the uniqueness of each person. My mom has always drawn. My earliest memory is the drawing of the Led Zeppelin faceless angel cover. My aunt uses her art to spread awareness over mental illness. My daughter took advanced art this year and found her calling.

3) Resilience: Strength...courage...motivation...determination...grit...this resounds in every single one of the women. It has been the most valuable gift given. We do not give up. We fight through. I mean we are powerful. Women in my family have walked away from terrible marriages uncertain of how to pay their bills, where they would live etc. Women in my family have faced depression and anxiety  and found light when they were surrounded by dark. Women in my family have learned how to pull though hard times. They kept going. They persevered.

I hold these gifts close. I am fortunate to share these with my own daughter. I love the beauty in these gifts and in these women.

So as I continue to write the next page of the next chapter it only makes sense the title should be:

Strong Women: May We Know Them, May We Be Them, May We Raise Them

3 Loves

     There is a blurb online about the three loves we encounter in our life. The first is often puppy love, full of firsts and sometimes drama. The second love is the one which teaches us lessons and helps us define who we are. And the third and final love, is the one that is supposed to catch us off guard and feel like home....

My first love....

    I think I may believe this story, blurb, quote thing. I think about my own life and memories of high school pop up. I had a high school boyfriend. Many firsts with this love and also much, much drama. It makes me smirk and laugh as I type this. At the time it felt so intense and so real. And in a way it was. That love distracted me from a negative home life and in a way became a piece of resilience. My high school love stretched out way too long and in the end probably was not the healthiest, but still I am thankful for it. Thankful for the moments and the firsts.

My second love....

My second love was a gift. It provided me growth and opportunity and did help define who I am now. When this love crept in I was in college trying to navigate life, myself, my future. This love brought me my daughter. It brought me self acceptance. This love brought me my hopes, goals, aspirations, esteem. It was a gift. I realize now there were too many times when I took this love for granted. I also realize that this love left me better than who I was in the beginning and that it was never meant to be permanent. It's purpose was to teach me and probably him who we were and who we would become. This love shaped me.

My third love....

And now here I am.. waiting..wondering...what this third love will be. They say it strikes out of nowhere.. it catches you off guard. It is so real it breaks down any wall built up.

In a way it is exciting to think that could be out there.
In a way it is frustrating to think you have to be patient and wait for it to come.
In a way it is scary to think that there is a love so strong that it can feel like home.

So I wait and I wonder.

Because there could be an entire chapter forming, filling with pages of love..words unwritten right now, but coming...

This will fit...

This piece will fit in this slot...I will FORCE it in if I have too...

I have tried to fit pieces in so many times in life. I am always devastated, frustrated, angered, defeated when they do not work.

Patience...trust...hope...belief... that everything will fall into place.. happen as they should...

Trust the process. God has a plan. In the end everything will work out.

All things that are so difficult to do.

Today I turn 37. 
One of the biggest lessons I have taken away from this year has been to slow down and not force anything. 

Instead let it naturally manifest and come to me. 

Yesterday was a great affirmation of this.

Yesterday I signed a contract to become an Assistant Principal at an elementary school. 

I have wanted this for sooo soo long. 

I tried to force it. I tried to make it happen on my time. I shoved that piece in over and over. Just like so many pieces of my life. 

Then when I stopped and let go....

Expectations faded away. I became happy in the present. Worry and stress fell off me.

And I am Living. Happy. Hopeful. Patient (sometimes). 

Turning the page to 37 today. Realizing that you have to live to learn...

No wonder my Great Grandma Navarre was so very wise.❤

Change: to make or become different

A few months ago I completed one of those silly Facebook quizzes.. (honest moment: I complete a lot of those quizzes actually 😆)

My word for the new year was Change. I forgot about the quiz, but then as I was beginning to reflect on 2018 and looking forward to 2019 I thought about that quiz.

I read a lot of blogs and inspirational stuff and one theme in January was selecting your word for the new year. I have tried this a few times, but come February I tend to slip back in to old habits and totally forget about all those well intended hopes.

For whatever reason, that Facebook quiz result just keeps gnawing at me and tugging on me. Am I thinking way too much into it?? Has social media brainwashed me??? I don't know, but I am embracing it. And for me, 2019 is a time for change.

Change: to make or become different; to make a shift from one to another; to undergo a modification

So many definitions.

My definition....

Change:

To switch my mindset of thinking...assume positive assumptions.. to embrace an open mind
To alter my expectations of myself, but more importantly others.
To let go of hurt, anger,  resentment, and jealousy.
To open up my heart and allow the feelings...most importantly the feeling to let someone in and receive them as well as give to them.
To adjust my comfort zone and become excited about the future challenges. 


So change is coming... big, little, scary, exciting, and heartfelt...

Turning the page to this next chapter.

Gold Stars

The last day of the year always seems to require thought and reflection. This morning I scrolled through Facebook reading over everyone's memories of the past 12 months. As I sit here and drink coffee and stare at my fire I too reflect.

The same mental image keeps running through my mind.

Gold stars.
Those shiny ones teachers use for reward charts.


Today, this last day of 2018 I reflect not only on the last 12 months, but more so on the past..maybe even the last 36 years.

I was numb for a long time. Gold stars were my feeling.

Good grades, positive affirmations from teachers, compliments, a gift. These were my gold stars. These were my feelings. These were my pieces of validation.

It is why school became my place a refuge. The better grades I got, the more activities I belonged to, the more gold stars I built up.

The numb feeling built up, but my piles of gold stars also grew.

Fast forward to the last 5 years or so.

The numbness turned to anger. So much ANGER.

This led to needing and wanting more Gold Stars.

Throw myself into work, seek out the praise through being the best, yet being so mad at everyone who did not keep out.

Developing the most unhealthy yearning for compliments and verbal validation from anyone around me.

The obsession with gold stars manifested. Along with the anger. I was so numb, so cold and stony. So very unhappy.

2018. The year of Feeling.

Anger slowly began to fall away.  It was replaced by big feelings. Raw feelings.

Fear, Loneliness, Peace, Gratitude, Hope, and Joy.

But best of all this led to releasing the Gold Stars.

Current Status:

I am closing out 2018 in a good place, full of feelings, and without a single gold star.

I work at school that brings me true joy.
I parent Lauren without comparison or fear, but instead with realness.
I let go of the yearning for attention, praise, and validation from others.

All the gold stars are stuck on the pages of the past.