The Alligator in the Room

A few years ago, I shared a blog entry from one of my favorite blogs, 'The Bloggess'. It features my most favorite painting in all the world, The Tightrope Walker (original print found at The Haunted Mansion in Walt Disney World). When I read the words she had written, I instantly empathized with her, as I usually do. I love her explanation of the painting more than words because I feel so many of us have such an alligator threatening our happiness and it's nice to know that we aren't fighting this battle alone.
To read the original blog, go here: http://thebloggess.com/2011/12/tightrope-walker/
I highly recommend every word that this woman has ever written.
The original post was shared 3 years ago. A dear friend shared it with me. I shared it with my husband and now I'm sharing it with you a second time. Andrew has always remembered my sentiment towards this painting of such a strong woman; an avenger that walks past that damn alligator as though it's not even there. It goes deeper than that though, she does know it's there, she just refuses to let it mess with her happiness. Sure, he might make her falter at times, but she always wins in the end because she's much bigger than the alligator in the room. Her fear will always be there but her strength to deal will always reign.
It has to.
For Christmas this year, I received the most beautiful, perfect present anyone has ever gotten me. (I truly have the best husband in the world.) The gift is a necklace of said print, with an antique looking chain. It reminds me of something a girl from the 1920's would wear.
It's a constant reminder to keep fighting my own personal alligator that threatens and I will treasure it always.

 

What I love most about this beautiful present is that you can't even see the alligator. He's invisible to the rest of the world but she's very much aware that he's there.
You can see it in her eyes.
 Any one of you that knows me is aware that I usually have a hard time with New Years. I always feel such sadness come over me once the Holidays are over. Time with family and friends goes by way too fast and suddenly the Christmasy feel that I've had since I was a small child disappears for another year.
I struggled keeping the Christmas spirit this year for numerous reasons that I don't care to get into. The truth is that this year has been a rough one and it's been hard to let go of words spoken or not spoken and events that took place or should have taken place. So with this being admitted, I actually welcome 2015 with hopeful open arms. I know that changes are coming and I am both excited and fearful of them all. My hope is that I can continue to fight through any beast that threatens the happiness that I crave and seek in the coming year. I am leaving this year behind and though I know the memory of it will always be there, I am more than willing to let go of anything that has kept me frozen on the tightrope of life.
I will move forward. I will release anything that is out of my control. I will take that first step and continue on with another and another.
My footwork might be shaky and I might stumble from time to time, but I will not fall.
I will not fall and let the Alligator consume me. He doesn't get to be a staring character in my story.

"…a girl who has won a battle.  A girl who appreciates those moments between maulings.  A girl who knows all too well the dangers and pain around her but who has made a conscious and complete decision to be furiously happy in spite of it all."
The Bloggess

Tis the Season

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I love getting together with friends and family, some of whom I only see once a year. I love the chill in the air and the scent of snow lingering outside while we snuggle up in warm blankets watching the reflection of a fire blaze in our loved ones eyes. I love the decorations and driving around at night, counting lit up Christmas trees in strangers' living rooms, enjoying the company of our loved ones and sipping hot cocoa or cider. I love the tradition of every family who celebrates this glorious holiday, no matter the religion, family and friends are often the theme and this makes my heart happy.
There is so much I adore about Christmas.
I have never struggled with finding the Holiday spirit. I am that person who begins counting down the days the moment Christmas Day comes to an end. (You can blame my Daddy Bo for that one). I begin watching Christmas movies before Thanksgiving and the moment the radio turns into Holiday tunes, you can bet it stays on that station until December 26th.
I'm that person so many of you pretend to hate.
But I've had a rough year. So many changes, some warranted, some chosen, some unexpected; I've struggled with getting over being hurt, both physically and mentally. I've let these feelings linger and turn to resentment. I've become blinded  by the negativity that once surrounded me and even though I have left some of this behind, it lingers and I fear it has wounded my soul permanently. I struggle to find the good, where I used to be able to shrug the badness off, or at least pretend to. Perhaps all the lingering is the reason behind the bitterness I feel creeping up within me. I try to ignore it, but it appears the only way to get rid of it is to face it head on, no matter the consequences.
My Christmas spirit is faltering and I feel scrooge-ish, a part of me simply wanting to get it all over with so that I can face the next challenge that is presented to me.
New Years, the holiday that conjures up hope of change and possibility but never completely gets rid of  the fear that everything will stay the same.
I have never in my life felt this way and it makes me sad.
I don't want to feel this way and it makes me ashamed to admit it. I feel like I've finally let the harshness of the world take over and it feels like I've given up. I don't have the energy to keep the spirit going for those who have always struggled to find it.
I feel cold and I'm not so sure hearing Christmas carols and hosting parties will be enough to cure the emptiness I feel inside of me. I will try. I will always try. But it's concerning all the same, knowing that such feelings exist within me.
So I will sit here underneath my red and green fuzzy blanket, sipping holiday flavored coffee and admiring my collection of decorations. I will plan our Holiday party making lists of guests and groceries. We will go get our tree and exchange ornaments. We will go see the gingerbread houses and decorate cookies.
And I will smile.
But I will also hurt, just a little, feeling guilty for having so much, but lacking in some way or another. I will hurt for those who have nothing or no one. I will grieve for those who are no longer here to help us celebrate. But I won't let it get to me and I will strive to keep that smile on my face, presenting happiness that falters. This isn't me and I apologize. If you could maybe just send me a nice Holiday thought every now and then, that would be helpful and I will feel forever grateful. I know this will pass and that the spirit is just waiting for me to recognize it right around the corner.
I will find it again, like I always do.
After all, 'Tis the season to be jolly.'
So here it goes.

The Sound of Silence

When I was younger, I used to write songs about Desert Storm. I randomly woke up this morning with the tune of one of said songs stuck in my head. I only remember this particular one and it's when the war was over and everyone got to come home.
They're coming home, they're coming home.
I miss them, but the war is done. 
I remember being so terrified during that time that my parents were going to have to leave us and go take care of all of the wounded soldiers because they were nurses. I had a very serious conversation with my Dad once, asking him if he was going to war? He replied that he wasn't going anywhere but if they needed him and asked him to go help out, he would.
At the time, I didn't understand the concept of being a hero, not that type of hero anyway. I just wanted my Daddy to stay with me and be safe; I wanted him to remain my hero and only mine.
Who knew that a 9 year old could harbor such anxiety and morbidity?
Needless to say, I was relieved when the war was over so I wrote the song above, feeling that it's lyrics would make this new-found security permanent and keep everyone safe from the cruelties of war.
I didn't understand how easily wars were started and that for some, they never truly end.
A couple of years later, I went to Washington D.C. for the first time. I was in 8th grade and so excited to be visiting such an historical place. I saw homelessness and dirty streets among the towering Government buildings. One particular image of a homeless man in a wheel chair has never left my memory. Both of his legs were missing from the knee down and he sat outside against the building of The Hard Rock Cafe, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He was freezing and I willed him to look me in the eye, hoping with all of my teenage heart that he could feel my empathy passing through him. He never looked up and it was a harsh lesson to learn, that sometimes pretending to understand didn't make it any better. In fact, it did nothing at all. I stood there staring at him for as long as I could until I finally had to walk away to join my peers. For months, every night before I went to bed, I saw his face before I fell asleep. I can still see him so clearly and I can't help but wonder what became of him.
The first time I saw the names etched on the Vietnam Wall Memorial, I froze and shed tears for the thousands of strangers and their families. I still shed tears for them and the famous memorial continues to haunt me with it's pencil-thin lines etched into human lives with nothing to show for except flowers, tears and so many untold stories.
Sometimes the truth sounds bitter, but it doesn't make it any less true.
I have never known that kind of loss and selfishly, I stood there hoping I never would.
After everything I saw and experienced,I left a little less innocent and feeling a little more wounded. There was so much of the 'real world' that I wasn't prepared to see. It wasn't until this trip that I realized there are people out there who are truly in need and have no where to go at night, no where to keep warm.
When I was in high school, I received a phone call from an army recruit, asking me if I would consider joining. I answered with 4 simple words, 'It's not for me.' I could feel his defense through the lines of the telephone, asking me 'Well, what is for you then?' I remained silent because I didn't have an answer.
I was 15 at the time and I still don't have an answer 18 years later....a whole lifetime ago, an age that some never reached and whose names are on that wall.
When I'm left alone in the silence, with nothing to listen to but my own thoughts, I'm reminded of those who are less fortunate and never had the chance or the choice to follow their own dreams.
Freedom isn't free.
I'm thinking of them today, wishing and hoping that there is something truly special after this life is over. Something more than emptiness.
Something louder than the silence that haunts us all at night.
Something more meaningful than a ghost of a memory.

'And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.'
The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel

10,000 Words and Counting...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
So, this is how I feel this morning, wanting to scream into a pillow because I am having extreme writer's block and feel as though my novel should at this point, just be torn into tiny little pieces and flushed down the toilet so that I can start anew.
There.I said it.
But I'm really starting to like my two main characters and the relationship that they are creating with one another so I don't want to give up on them or their progress quite yet. 
I'm working with time shifts and keep coming up short handed, not sure how to portray how time has passed and what occurred between the years of the big event that I want to occur but can't be given away too soon in the story line.
Yesterday I loved every single one of my characters but I fear one or more of them might have to disappear because I'm not sure how much development I can give each one of them to make them likable and, more so, relevant to the story.
There is death and humor and underlying insanity all combined...
Sounds fantastic, right?!
Perhaps I have asked too much of my characters and they are simply sinking under the pressure of having to portray  any one of these attributes at any given moment that I may ask them to. They seem angry with me and unwilling to cooperate. Perhaps I should ask them out for a cup of coffee so that we can discuss what is expected of them and come out with some sort of compromise in the end.
Maybe I'm the one going insane.
OK. Vent is over and my head is a teensy bit more clear. Speak to me Lizzy Reynolds. What do you want out of this short 50,000+ word life? I'm listening.
All you have to do is speak up.

The Interview

So, I went to an interview at a medical office last night and it took years off my life.
It lasted a whole hour and 3 different people came in asking pretty much the same questions over and over again in different ways.
I felt sort of like a prostitute, trying to sale myself and my skills. It left me feeling dirty and weak and unworthy.
I mean, how does one answer such questions as 'What are your 2 greatest accomplishments in life?' and 'Can you name an experience  in the past year that was difficult for you and how did you handle it?'
My mind went completely blank and I was brought back to the time I had to take a public speaking class, focusing on not saying the word 'um' (though I know it escaped my lips more than once...I also, within the hour that I was there, began to use the phrase 'for sure'...what? Am I a surfer girl now?)
The whole experience left me feeling completely drained. I don't even remember over half of my answers. And the questions just made me question my existence and worth in this place. What have I accomplished in this life? What extra effort have I set forth to make another human being feel better about themselves? What makes me special in any way shape or form?
 Living in a small town, I don't have many options when it comes to work. I basically have to know somebody, work somewhere in the medical field or in tourism. (Not to mention be OK with making very little money in a profession that doesn't make me feel like I have a purpose.). I'm not saying it would be better or easier anywhere else, but it's making living here that much harder to enjoy.
And that sucks.
Because it's my home, for now anyway, and a place I used to be so in love with.
Now, I just feel bitter and enraged at the lack of opportunity it presents for me.
So many times I've gotten in the car, wanting to take only the clothes on my back and drive...just drive to the next accepting city or state and give it a try.
My inability to settle is unsettling.
Ironic.
I'm stuck at another crossroads, another 'road not taken', uncertain which path to follow.
I know what my heart is telling me  to do, but the consequences could be that much more drastic and I'm not sure I can emotionally handle that right now, nor do I want to cause or be any burden to anyone else.
I've wasted so much time not doing the things I love that I've forgotten what it is that truly makes me tick as a person, as an individual.
I feel like everything is a test and I'm failing miserably.
An ongoing interview that I can't escape from...

Synopsis

Last Kiss

It's been 15 years since she stepped foot back into her small town of Asheville, NC. Running away from the moment she left high school, she is faced with the reality that the past never fully goes away. The memories still haunt her with each footstep she takes and the illness of her Mother is the only thing that keeps her from running away again. She has kept so many secrets to herself for so long. Death and the dying seem to follow her no matter where she goes. Perhaps, it is time to let the world know who Lizzy Reynolds really is.

Character Development

Who are you? We've met briefly but I have yet to understand your purpose.You have a slight depth, creeping out slowly in the sentences formed at random. Your consistency is bland and not yet well put together. But with this in mind, I find this makes you human. You're likable. At least I like you so far. And I can relate to the trials and tribulations you have already conquered and look forward to the ones that have yet to come out onto the page for all to see.
You are still a stranger, like an onion, unfolding her layers one by one, not quite letting me get to the core of your existence.
Why did you leave?
Why do you come back?
Who are the people who have come and gone in your life?
What gives you motive to keep on living?
What makes your story one that aches to be read?
These are only a few of the questions I have for you.
I'm here waiting for you to answer through my mind. For it is you and only you who can speak to me and allow me to unfold the story you have to tell.
You have a clean slate and no one holding you back. You can be whomever you wish to be. That's what makes this process so beautiful.
Speak to me and I promise I won't fail you, writing you as you wish to be written and allowing you to take complete control over my words.
You just have to let me in.

Rainbow Connection

It's official. I have started writing a novel.
So far, it's only three short chapters of nothing but random and 1874 words, but it's a start.
I want to start off by saying that I have woken up every morning since writing my last two blog entries, wanting to apologize for the lines written in a slue of self pity. The truth is, I'm not really sorry. (I'm not even sorry for just enjoying a white chocolate mocha with a butterfinger cookie for breakfast...so there!) Maybe that makes me a bad person? Who knows. All I can say is that I apologize for everything, including how I feel about any given thing and I think that has somehow turned into me taking responsibility for things and circumstances that I have no control over.
I can't solve and/or fix every little problem that comes my way. As much as I would like to, and I will never stop trying, but I feel like it's my turn to stop and try to figure out what I want and need out of this life. I stayed in a position for 10 years because I was scared of the insecurities that would come along with leaving the job. I didn't want to disappoint anyone nor did I want to start over.
But now I have and I've gone through every emotion I imagine possible. I've worried what everyone would think of me. I've worried about money and helping provide. I've worried about not having a purpose. I've worried about having to decide on something quickly, only to be put in the same situation once again for another 10 years.
What happened to the adults that told you to follow your dreams when you were a child? Why do they seem to disappear when you've suddenly become an adult yourself?
Ironically, the truth that I have found in these last few weeks, is that I'm fine.I have a crazy wonderful support system and nothing else matters. Life goes on and it's my turn to take on some challenges of my own. I can't be held back by my demons masked as insecurities, blaming others for ideas and thoughts that they most likely don't even think. And if they do, who cares? It doesn't affect them in any way shape or form. I've been preaching in my mind for so long to simply live my life and to not let everyone else control it, it's time that I start listening.
So I've started writing a novel. Perhaps it will be a work of greatness. Perhaps it won't. The point is, I've started.
And for now, that's enough for me.

 'I've heard it too many times to ignore it
It's something that I'm supposed to be
Some day we'll find it
The rainbow connection
The lovers, the dreamers, and me'
Rainbow Connection- Kermit the Frog

Positively 4th Street

I left the house yesterday with a nice outfit on my back and glistening lip gloss on my lips, adorning an undefeated smile and holding 4, count them 4, copies of my resume in hand.
I was bound and determined to win them, really anyone, over with my expertise, skill and exuberant personality. I sached out of my front door in the early(ish) hours of the morning, head held high with the expectancy of a new beginning  in the grasp of my fingertips.
And...
I failed.
I mean, I failed miserably, not even coming close to having the nerve to actually walk up to a stranger behind the counter of one of my favorite bookstores, let alone hand her a resume. I started off downtown because this, THIS, was my old stomping grounds! I belonged here with the masked scent of patchouli mixed with body odor, long hair, music and smiles, artistic creation upon every corner. This was my home away from home.
Or rather, it used to be.
Walking the streets of Downtown Asheville made me become Dylan's lyric of 'I used to be among the crowd you're in with'. It felt forced and unwelcome. And it seems I have lost the childish nerve that comes along in one's early twenties. I'm stuck between corporate business and the American Dream because I've been such a big part of both scenarios.
I'm lost in a world with no in between.
I used to be so independent and though I still lack the ability to ask for someone's help, I have succumbed to feeling lost within myself, unable to communicate well within the outside world. I find myself feeling so insecure and anxious; trapped between a line of people who seem to have it all figured out.
I much prefer to be at home, lost in a good book or TV show, allowing myself to be embraced by the characters and their fictional world.
I don't know what's real anymore.
The strength I summon up to be able to be a part of anything social is so miniscule and yet it takes every inch of nerve I somehow convince myself I have left, to simply walk out the door. Who is this creature I've become? What happened to the girl with the light in her eyes? Always full of hope and  ready for whatever happened to be around the corner? Who is this somewhat broken person staring back at me in the mirror; this zombie slowly drifting further and further away, letting resentment take over?
Why do I feel like giving up? What's next in this never ending jig-saw puzzle of a mess?
I know. I won't give up because I'm not supposed to and because I know I'm just in the downward slope part of an uphill battle. I will push and bleed and hike up that path just as I've always done. I won't be defeated and everything will be fine.
It. Will. Be. Fine.
Right?
Right.

Tick Tock

I feel like I'm in high school again; waiting by the phone, willing it to ring and in that mere instant, simply knowing that my life is about to change.
But like in high school, the phone doesn't ring.
Then, it was for a boy. Now?
I'm not sure what I want to hear on the other end of the line.
It's so frustrating being here and feeling as though I'm starting over. I know that the decision I made to leave a career in which I have built on for over 10 years was a huge one and that along with it comes consequences. But knowing this doesn't make the transition any easier.
 I feel as though I'm leading myself into a blind, vacant forest of little or no opportunity. I fill out application after application with little interest or hope of a new door to walk through. I have no idea what I'm doing and it's as though my insides are ripping me apart with worry, confusion, and perhaps some excitement that comes along with the freedom of suddenly having time.
I am hyper-sensitive to every conversation around me. I want to be with people and then suddenly wish to be alone with my own thoughts, free from the distraction of any unwanted negative energy that should drift my way.
I am asked the same questions over and over again by those who I know are only interested in the next step in my journey, perhaps worried as well. But I have no answer other than the truth and it's that 'I don't know'. I have so many ideas of what I would love to do and how I would love to grow as a person. I just  don't know where to begin.
I find myself getting irritated with the community and area I live in because work is not easy to come by. And the fact that every time we get back from a vacation, I feel less at home than I did when we left, is a very disconcerting one.
I'm drifting away into my thoughts and over-sensitivity and I'm not sure how to break free from it. There are places I want to see and things I want to do and be a part of but I feel like I have to keep these things secret to protect anyone else from being hurt or disappointed.
I feel trapped and time is just ticking away because no matter what, life just keeps going on around you. There is no pause button.
That would be too easy.
My hope in leaving was to find some sort of unknown that I've been searching for for so long. I know it will just take time but I can't avoid the emptiness I am feeling in not having a purpose to get up for every morning. The worst feeling is that I know I've done this to myself and that I am to blame.
 I have always believed that one small person can make a difference...and I've always wanted to be one of those people...
I just wish I knew how or where or what....
In some ways, I feel more lost than I ever have and I just don't know what to do.
Dorothy was right when she said "If I ever go looking for my hearts desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with."
She left out one part though.... you have to have a home that feels like home in the first place.
I came back, expecting it do be different this time...
But there's still a very big piece missing.
I just wish I knew what that piece was.

Crooked Flight

I'm at a loss for words today but I will be working on some personal, more private writing in my free time.  This is a poem I wrote awhile back so I thought I'd share. Thanks for reading.

Crooked Flight

What do I fear I will find

Should I press pen to paper

And let create within my mind

The visions of everything it is I want

And then some

The visions that are just a fingertip away

Scraping each direction

Threatening to disappear

With each breath, each motion

I take during each day

I run so far so far

Not wanting to have to stay

Stuck here in the moment

Of monotony and boredom

Stuck within the fear that prevents

Me from finding that something missing

What I’ve searched for

For so long

I don’t want to live the lie

Of lifeless dreams

Trapped beneath my bones,

Wrapped tightly around my neck

Suffocating me with thoughts

Of failing.

Thoughts of being translucent

And unable to express

The need to be free

To fly

Like a bird with a broken wing

Crooked, yet determined

And drifting against the wind

To find the destination of her dreams

People Are People

Good morning. So today is one of those days that I feel I have absolutely nothing to write about. But alas, I have promised to write something every day so here it goes.
I woke up this morning with a Depeche Mode song stuck in my head so I'm already annoyed. I wouldn't mind except for the fact that one of my ex-boyfriends loved this band and they always make me think of him. I am truly over all of the crap he put me through and have moved on completely....but I still don't enjoy remembering him in any sort of way.
I'm feeling a bit scatter brained this morning. Sometimes it seems like my mind won't shut off completely. This does not help in getting a good nights sleep. I woke up with said song in my head, then began to wonder what the last episode of Orphan Black in season 1 will reveal. Then my brain went to whether or not I should go ahead and just buy season 2 because it's on sale on Amazon right now but this made me feel guilty because I now have all of these extra hospital bills to pay and if I spend money on fun things instead of being responsible, it doesn't help my cause in trying to pay everything off. I then tried to make myself feel better in reminding myself that I have paid off 4 different credit cards since January so I deserve a little treat. But I've used this excuse several times alone this year, which then made me think of how much money I could have put towards another credit card if I hadn't joined the Disney Movie Club. But it's a great bargain and I've actually saved money and earned points towards free movies so there's that.
My stomach is also very unhappy with me this morning. We ate mexican food for lunch yesterday which always sounds like a good idea at the time but then I pay for it later. Plus, I'm not convinced that the beans do not have lard in them even though they specifically have told me several times that they do not. I've been a vegetarian for 15 years and haven't purposefully eaten meat since  then so I imagine if the beans did indeed have lard in them, my belly would be much more upset than it is right now because it's not used to such protein in it's system. I say purposefully because there was the time several years ago when the waitress told me there was no meat in the spaghetti sauce and then I found some after taking a few bites and she laughed it off like it was no big deal. Bitch.
And one time I got sausage in my hair.
Anyway, I have to go to work now so I'm going to just abruptly end this post of randomness. Thanks for reading and hopefully I'll have something more concrete to share tomorrow.

Que Sera Sera

It's a rainy kind of Sunday. The pets are fed and they're all taking their morning naps. The laundry is sorted and the first load into the wash. No plans, just an small idea of what the day is to bring.
It's my favorite kind of day.
We could get in the car and head west, close our eyes and pretend we're driving along the 101, listening to the West Coast greet us in good morning. We could adorn our raincoats and rain boots, take the Leira Dog for a walk or simply hike a short trail along the parkway. We could sit on our screened in porch, kitty in each of our laps, listening to the rain and the phenomenon that is Pandora, reading a good book or two. 
I could paint, possibly discovering that I have a gift in an art I never knew existed for me. I could hop on my bike and ride up and down the hills in our neighborhood, pretending to be a child again. I could head to the fresh market and buy arm loads of fresh bread and fruit.I could do yoga and breathe in the sent of the rain on this cloudy, beautiful day. I could build a fort with couch pillows and watch Classic Doctor Who episodes. I could drink tea and eat biscuits, dressed up like Mary or Sybil from Downton Abbey. I could make a pie.
I could write my Pulitzer Prize novel today.
Anything could happen. The newness and freshness of waking up without a plan of what to do can be so invigorating. Even though I know there are other things to be done. The house needs a good cleaning. The bills need to be sorted. The groceries need to be listed and bought. Leira dog needs to be bathed. The kitties need their nails trimmed and litterboxes freshly scooped. Our Disney trip coming up needs to be planned. We need toilet paper and razors, so a Target trip is in order.
But I choose to be in control of today. I will not let the burden of errands and responsibility cloud the happiness and childlike quality a day like today can bring. Too often, I let the confines of the world and how we're supposed to live our adult lives take over and prevent me from doing the things I love and enjoy. Too often, I let the guilt of not doing something productive get in the way of doing something fun. If we could all live like Mary Poppins, the world just might be a better place.
But it's so easy to get caught up in to do lists and life in general so we miss out on so many good opportunities. Perhaps, we even do this without realizing. They may be small and seemingly unimportant, but it truly is the small things that bring along the joy that we so often crave. Why is it so easy to put off the things we enjoy? Why can't we just take one day to put aside everything else and simply live?
I choose to be in control of this day. I choose to take a stand against the norm and live it out to it's fullest, doing whatever it is I feel like doing. 
So I'm excited for this new day and for the openness and surprise waiting around the corner. I feel goodness coming my way and I'm looking forward to taking in each moment with full acceptance and open arms.

'Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be
Que Sera, Sera' 
-Doris Day

To Write

When I was younger, I wrote every day.
I was probably 6 years old and I had this green composition notebook that I carried around with me all of the time. I mainly wrote short stories, mostly about cats.
When I got a little bit older, I was a bit more private and started keeping a diary. Each day, I would write about everything that happened to me from the moment I got up to the moment I went to bed and put pen to paper to write about it.
Then high school hit and thus the bad poetry began. Maybe not all bad, but the subject matter was always the same. The name might have changed. The words however did not. (This sadly carried over into my 20's).
I always did well in English and I've always enjoyed writing about everything. I used to have all of these ideas for short stories, novels, poetry, ect. I couldn't get the words written onto paper quickly enough.
Now, it's a bit of a struggle.
I don't seem to have the imagination I once harbored. The language of writing suddenly seems all jumbled up in my head and my mind is screaming to let them out.
When I I decided to write this memoir, what 3 or 4 years ago?, I was excited and thrilled to have a project to focus on. But suddenly, something had changed inside of me. I have all of these events and moments in my life that I wish to share with the world but I'm still a very private person and I suddenly became super vulnerable. I held back, still do, and I'm finding it hard to let go and simply write.
I started thinking on this the other day, wondering what exactly had changed when I realized it was my audience. I've always had the power to choose who did or didn't read my thoughts. Then I started blogging and my words were no longer safe in the confines of my little green composition notebook. 
They were out there naked for the world to see.
I didn't realize that I was doing it, but I started leaving out details and editing out facts, because this is me. This is my life but it's intertwined with others. I began to worry about opening wounds or creating new ones. I began to stress about what people might think of me.
I became mute without even recognizing it.
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to start writing for me again. Every day. It might just be a few short sentences or a whole page of nothingness, but I need to start somewhere. My story is aching to be heard and I truly do want others to hear it. I can't let the critics in the world or in my mind allow me to fail.
I have a heart and soul to share through my words and I choose to share them.
Starting today.

Life Happens

I just got out of the hospital about a week ago- nothing too serious but scary enough to make me wake up a little bit more. I've always been a healthy person so whenever I am feeling poorly, I don't tend to make the best patient. I don't like for anyone to wait on me hand and foot and I've never been one to readily ask for help should I need it.
This time, I needed it.
I'm still not convinced this doesn't show a sign of weakness though I will say, even when I was hunched over in the backseat after puking for the 9th time that day, I was still able to laugh about it. Someone (I forget who) happened to mention that there was a rainbow hovering over the mountain tops and without missing a beat, I proclaimed, "Awe. It must be there to welcome me into Heaven".
Funny, right? I thought so, but my husband and parents did not seem too amused at the time. (Minutes later I was puking in a plastic bag in the lobby of the ER, wishing someone would just knock me out already.)
This whole episode was a nice reminder of how marriage works, or should work. Andrew stepped up and took the whole 'in sickness and in health' completely seriously. I never doubted that he would do this, but I also never imagined him holding my IV bag while I peed in a cup, asking him kindly not to look at my backside reflection in the mirror while doing so.
Modesty has always been a strong trait in my personality.
But seriously, he was wonderful. He helped me go to the bathroom multiple times. We even had a routine. I would wake up mumbling that I had to pee (again) and he would stumble out of the nice recliner the hospital provides for family staying over (i.e. tiny chair that he often got stuck in and often woke up in pain due to the position he happened to fall asleep in), told me to sit up slowly, walked to the bathroom to prepare the toilet paper (because the dispenser was cruel and often mocked my weakness and inability to tear off more than half a square at a time), grabbed my hand and IV pole and scooted me to the bathroom as gracefully as possible.
Andrew and I have always had a special sort of language. We often find ourselves having a conversation in front of people, completely forgetting that they are there and then realizing that they are staring at us, trying to figure out what it is exactly we're talking about. Through the years, we have broadened this language into simply sharing a look towards one another and knowing exactly what the other is thinking. There were times in the hospital when I would be in so much pain, trying to mask it from everyone else in the room and all I had to do was look at him and he knew.
He always knows.
This whole episode got me thinking about life in general and how I have been living mine from day to day, just trying to get through the work week so that I can enjoy my day(s) off as they come to me. I waste so much time thinking and worrying about all of the 'stuff' I need to do and accomplish, pushing more important things onto the back burner, claiming I'll get to them when I can.
I seem to be waiting around a lot.
Waiting for my next day off so that I can clean/run errands/watch Netflix. Waiting to be able to apply for insurance again. (No, we don't have insurance so please kindly wipe that judgmental look off of your face). Waiting for our next vacation. Waiting for the right 'time' to have a baby. Waiting for that next paycheck so that I can apply a larger payment to another credit card in order to pay it off completely, turn around and apply the same payment in 2 weeks to yet another credit card. Waiting to own a home because we don't even know where we will be in the next 6 months to a year. Waiting for approval.
There is a lot of waiting in my world and it's starting to slowly suck me dry. Patience has never been a strong suit in me and though I try to take each challenge one step at a time, I often get overwhelmed and try to take everything on all at once, get discouraged and simply feel like giving up until I get another outburst of energy to try again.
It's exhausting.
And it's not easy to come up with the right solution. I don't know how to approach certain areas in my life. I worry too much about the outcome when in all reality, I know deep down I can't control others reactions or feelings towards any given thing. The last thing I ever want to do is cause someone else pain.  When it used to be just me hanging out on the sidelines waiting, I seemed to be more OK with this philosophy. But now that Andrew is here beside me, it's affecting him too.
And it's affecting us.
No one seems to put this into account or maybe we haven't really given them the chance to because we're too worried about hurting them and not really focusing on the fact that we are unintentionally hurting each other.
It really does feel like it's just him and me and I truly am OK with that. I feel like this is what marriage should be. Yes, we have our own sets of friends and tons of family who we love and adore, but at the end of the day, he is the only person whom I feel truly gets and understands me.
I don't want to keep waiting around to begin my life with him.
And I don't want to keep on living from day to day without having some sort of idea or plan as to what the next step in our journey should be. We shouldn't have to mask our hopes and dreams and I'm not even sure why exactly we feel we have to. But we do just the same.
And it's not helping anybody.
I've always been a dreamer. It's pretty typical of me to take the road less traveled. I may get lost along the way but I always find myself in the end.  And now, Andrew and I have each other to take care of and no matter how little or far we may stray at times, we always come back to meet again in the middle.
It might not seem like it, but we do have a plan. And it's ours and ours alone.
I know we always have each others backs. He never left my side when the poor nurse was trying to get an IV catheter in me multiple times, failing until the blessed third because I was so dehydrated. And I knew he was being protective of me without even looking at him. He helped my morphine doped up self answer the billions of questions asked over and over again by each person who entered the room. He made phone calls. He held my hand when I was scared. He asked questions of his own. He made sure I was comfortable. He tasted the broth to make sure it was vegetable and when it wasn't it, he let them know and asked them not to bring the jello or coffee anymore because he knew I couldn't have it. He went home to take care of the pets so I would have peace of mind. And he came back every night to sleep in that ratty old recliner. And when I was finally able to come home, he continued to care for me as I know he always will.
This is the real thing folks. This is what life is all about.
In sickness and in health.

The Woman In the Mirror

Sometimes I feel like I'm wearing a mask.
I feel like I have to hide the real me in order to accommodate everyone else. I know this isn't entirely true. I am a quiet introvert who often simply sits and listens to the conversation going on around her. Should I get up the nerve to add a little anecdote of my own, it  often backfires into awkward silence or forced laughter because no one seems to understand/get what I'm talking about. Perhaps it's my delivery? I tend to stutter, get too quiet or too loud depending on how nervous I feel in a situation.
Lately, I've been just keeping my mouth shut because my self esteem is more fragile these days.
Sometimes, my feelings get misread. I tend to hold back until the oddest circumstance sends me into a fit of tears or laughter. I used to cry a lot in high school and paid for it with cruelty from my peers. Enough so that when I returned my sophomore year, I hid the tears long enough to get home and cry in private. The longer I did this, the more I held back and even stopped crying behind closed doors.
What was the point?
This makes me sound like I was some fragile/lost/depressed little person...but who isn't at least one of these in high school? We all just handle it in our own way.
I don't like crying in front of anyone. It's not that I see it as a weakness, it's that I fear this is how everyone else perceives it. My brother-in law mocks me because I cry at movies (pretty much MOST movies/TV shows). I take it because that's what's expected and it doesn't truly bother me enough to cause a conflict. But this is my outlet- my way to escape into a fictional world and feel for fictional characters.
It's how I am able to let go.
My Dad doesn't understand why anyone would want to go see anything that would upset them. (For example, the ever so popular 'The Fault In Our Stars'). Why would I purposefully go, knowing it was going to be upsetting?
Because it's a beautiful story and stories such as these awaken feelings in me that I don't want to let go of, even if it's only in a fictional world. I empathize but I don't claim to understand what these characters are going through.I try to apply this to real life situations as well.
But the mask always stays on, leaving me with little to say. I listen. I'm a listener and I typically nod my head and share a compassionate glance when someone finds the need to vent to me about any given thing. I hear everything around me and it seeps into my pores. I hear the common 'I need to lose weight' conversation at work and it affects me because I don't know how to join this conversation. If I say 'me too' (which is what I typically believe), I don't know if I'm more scared of silence, someone agreeing or someone saying 'no you don't'- because it's a real problem and something I struggle with every day.
Plus, I hate it when you're talking to someone and suddenly the conversation turns, making it only about them. Sometimes I need to vent too and though I appreciate someone trying to understand, sometimes I just need someone to listen. 
I don't thrive being around such negativity. People are generally too hard on themselves and where I choose to keep it quiet and confined in my own mind, others tend to let it out in the world, creating a harsh light around everyone else around them.
On the rare occasion, I'll pipe in with a cynical remark, joining in the badly tasted humor around me and then I feel sick to my stomach.
When is it ever OK to make fun of another human being behind their back? No one ever truly knows what's going on in anyone's life and we're all so quick to judge.
These are the things that keep me up at night.
Mask or no mask. Sometimes I forget who I am and who I want to be. It's hard to hold onto completely and it's easy to stray.
All I can do is keep striving to be better.
It's amazing how powerful positive thinking can be.

'As I, turn up the collar on
My favorite winter coat
This wind is blowing my mind
I see the kids in the streets
With not enough to eat
Who am I to be blind?
Pretending not to see their needs'
- Michael Jackson ('Man In the Mirror)

It Only Takes A Moment

It's summer.
And even though I swore I would never complain about the heat again after moving from 100+ degree weather during Raleigh Summers to 80+ weather here in Asheville....
It's freakin hot!
The humidity is starting to make me resemble Monica from Friends during her Caribbean excursion. I will not be getting corn roes but good Lord, how I sometimes wish to have some magic beauty tips on keeping my hair semi-smallish and my face from glistening in sweat with it's paleness for all to see.
I'm not a girly girl- never have been. But I do have moments when I would like to feel pretty. Those moments in THIS weather are very few and far between this season.
Every time I feel like I'm starting to become a little bit more comfortable in my own skin, small insecurities creep back up in a huge way. My skin will start to clear up one day and the next it looks as though I'm a 30+ year old teenager with dark circles under my eyes and acne across my forehead.
I've been asked to be in 2 weddings this year which makes me feel super awesome and like I'm doing something right. One of the weddings was a few weeks ago and we were able to pick out our own dresses but the Bride wanted us to wear fishnets.
I am not a fishnet type of girl per say but as a Bridesmaid, 'your wish is my command' is the sort of attitude that should be portrayed. So fishnets were discussed and a type of lacy pair with flair was picked out. Again, not my cup of tea but I complied, sucked it up, bought the fishnets and the Mary Jane shoes (Oh, did I not mention the shoes?) and I was all set only to find that the day of the wedding everyone else had gotten NORMAL fishnets and I was the only one with the lacy ones. No big deal...I just didn't get the memo.
But I felt so silly and how does one explain the difference?
So, I'm feeling slightly pretty in my purple dress and non-matching tights comparatively to the other girls(meaning the tights, not the prettiness. Everyone looked really beautiful. I just looked like a complete heel who didn't want to get the same sort of tights as everyone else when this was never the case and I was always the one that showed mega support towards anything the bride wanted to do, never complaining, just simply doing...but again. No. Big. Deal. ) Pictures were taken during the whole event and I smiled and laughed and played.
Oh Lord, did I play.
When the music started and no one was dancing, Andrew and I decided to dance with our sweet 2 year old niece. Awesome! Great quality times were ahead. So we're dancing and she loves to be lifted up and swung around. The moment we tried to gracefully lift her up, she went completely dead weight and we barely got her feet off the ground. Wow. She's much heavier than she was the last time I held her in my arms. But we carried on, lifting her and dancing with her, enjoying her giggling and sweet smiles as any proud Aunt and Uncle are apt to do.
But holy crap. I felt so old after a song and a half and I was completely exhausted.
Why didn't we simply have kids when we were still in our 20's?
Needless to say, it was a bit discouraging being out danced by a lively and energetic 2 year old that never stops. It was worth it....but still exhausting to say the least.
My point? My point is that the universe seems to keep challenging me more and more every time I think I'm just a little bit ahead of the game. Every time I see a new path in our journey getting closer and closer, something comes up, making that path just a little bit further away from reality.
For example, the day after the wedding, my back was in quite a bit of pain and I just figured it was from all of the dancing and riding in the car. The next day, I was in the ER with a massive UTI and kidney infection.
Who knew?
John Lennon said it best, "Life is what happens when you're too busy making other plans". I used to think that this lyric applied to only good moments in life that happen under our noses, un-noticed becasue we're so busy worrying about the future. The longer I live however, i'm beginning to understand that it appies to all aspects of life.
Life happens.
Shit happens.
And we are in less control of the world around us than we would like to be.
So next time I find myself struggling with the summer heat, simply wishing for Fall, I need to remind myself that the year will be at it's end soon enough. So many months and days and moments lie between and I don't want to miss any more of them...
Good or bad.

"Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,
Every day in every way,
It's getting better and better"
- John Lennon

That's Me In the Corner

Sometimes I feel like no one truly takes me seriously.
Perhaps this is because I'm the youngest and add being small and quiet into the mix and that makes me screwed from the get go.
I've always struggled with having a voice- knowing I have very strong opinions but feeling too worried that I might offend someone has on many occasions made me keep my mouth shut. I listen. I'm a listener.
I'm a very good listener.
I'm highly aware that my wavering confidence and paranoia at times can be the reason why I feel like what I have to say is mute to everyone else. I have honestly reached the point in my life where I mostly don't care how other people perceive me, especially those of whom I harbor not an inch of respect.
It's those whom I look up to myself and those choice few people whose opinion of me does matter- this is what I struggle with.
But I usually still keep my mouth shut because honestly, I can't change how they perceive me or how they feel about any given situation. I know this and am almost too aware of what's written unsaid between the lines. Feelings are heavy and at times awkward. It often turns into a contest of who's right and wrong- when the area is too gray to even come close to the correct answer.
There is no correct answer and I can accept that for what it is.
I go on living my life with the occasional lingering voice in the back of my mind whispering to me that I'm not good enough at anything I do. I pick up the guitar and will learn 5 new songs in a day- but that voice is there telling me I will never equate to those around me who also play. I work in the medical field (with animals instead of people) but this too wasn't mine before I started. The knowledge is shared and though I have much of it, it's not as extensive as others merely because I haven't had the chance to live so long doing it...yet. This doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about. This doesn't mean I can't strum a guitar or carry a tune. I have a voice.
I have a very strong voice.
A voice that I feel sometimes only gets heard by a handful of friends and strangers right here, no matter how loud I sing or how confident I feel when explaining- very few listen. 
Just once, I wish someone would listen.
The other day jokes were being thrown around about being dramatic. My husband was asked if he felt I was a drama queen and my dad simply told him to 'be careful how he answered'. I looked at him and he honestly said 'God no! She's the furthest thing from it'...and my dad laughed.
He laughed.
And not a simple 'ha ha ha'. It was from the heart because he truly believed Andrew was just trying to get out of an awkward mess. This may seem silly and irrelevant but it hurt just the same. I could see the confusion on Andrew's face because I know he truly meant the words he said. He wasn't around during the time in my life when it seemed drama followed me wherever I went. I imagine it seems as though I always went looking for it but this was never the case...maybe in a small way but that's done and over. That chapter in my life has been closed for years. I've let it go.
Why can't everyone else follow suit? Why is it not so obvious how much I have grown and changed in the past 10 years?
Maybe they have in a small way- but maybe it's harder for them because seeing those insecurities disappear means that their baby has grown up- maybe this scares them in a way I can't fully understand because I am not yet a parent.
I still have insecurities- don't we all? ( I mean seriously I'm screaming out loud right now on the computer but can't conjure up the nerve to speak the words to the faces I'm hurt by). Hey, at least I own them. At least I'm aware.
Life is such a strange phenomenon. We grow up listening to the adults around us simply because this is what we're taught to do. Anyone taller than us serves as a potential role model. I stopped growing at the age of 12, never quite reaching the height of 5'2''. So imagine my disappointment when I discovered that not all adults know what the hell they're talking about and that we're all just playing the game day by day, hoping we just don't screw anything up. It sucks to come to the realization that your role models have the same insecurities as you do. It's a harsh lesson and one I struggle with the most.
I sit here and complain about not being taken seriously but there is a small part of me that still wants to be taken care of and told that everything will be OK. The memory of being taken to bed via shoulder back and sung 'goodnight' to is still so fresh in my mind.
Perhaps it's still that fresh in theirs too and it's that much harder to break away from.
So I leave you with this parting thought- don't be afraid to speak up, no matter how small, large, old or young you are. You have a voice and it wants to be heard. Your voice may quiver and shake and this may make it seem as though you have no clue what you're talking about- but don't listen to that nagging voice in the back of your head telling you you're not good enough. You are good enough. (I am good enough.) Believe in yourself...
And everyone else around you might start believing in you too.

'Oh life, it's bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I've said enough '
R.E.M 'Losing My Religion'

May Day Rain

It's raining.
I don't have anywhere to be and I'm catching myself looking aimlessly out the window, thinking thoughts of what I'm going to do today.
The house needs to be cleaned. The laundry is piling up. The cats are restless and want to go outside on the screened in porch but it's too cold outside to keep the door open.
The rain doesn't care. The rain has no agenda to ruin a kid's time outside, to make us pull out our umbrellas and raincoats or to dig through the sweaters we just stocked away because Spring has sprung on our calenders.
The rain doesn't care if we decide to stay in and be lazy, watching episode after episode of 'The Cosby Show' on Hulu. It doesn't care if we sleep in or eat a whole bowl of popcorn for breakfast. It doesn't care if we read a book or two, write a play or simply sit and dream of it raining somewhere else in a place we'd rather be.
It pours down softly from it's clouds and whispers to the wind and the birds. It doesn't ask permission to fall. It simply falls, each raindrop after another because this is what rain does. It has a job to nurture the growing flowers and trees, to help them grow, but I'm not convinced the rain knows this.
I wonder what it's like to have a job and not know it. I wonder if the rain knows it's purpose or if it simply just comes out whenever she has the chance to. I wonder if sometimes, just sometimes, the rain peeks in our windows of the houses and cars we survive in, and wishes for something more.
It's a soft, gentle rain today, no thunder or lightning, no pounding of sleet or hail. It's sweet and peaceful, barely audible.
The rain is happy today and I like her.
She reminds me of being a kid again, running down the hill by my parents' house in bare feet, not a care in the world, holding hands with my brother, laughing and playing. She reminds me that it's OK to take a break from the constant thinking and worrying and surviving.
It's OK to simply be.

'Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the rain
I've a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin',
Singin' in the rain'

Time After Time

Hello, it's me.
I apologize for not having written in so long. My mind has been a whirlwind of emotions that I can't quite explain.
But I'll try, because that's what I do.
I just celebrated my 33rd birthday. And, as always, I've cracked jokes about getting older and feeling behind in life and blah blah blah. But I've discovered something truly magical in this past year.
It doesn't matter.
Age is indeed really just a number. There is no order to things and I find it ironic that for a time, I found myself struggling to catch up. I still do this but the voice inside my head urging me not to has become louder with time. The truth is, I have never been a straight line type of gal. I go in every zig-zagged direction before I make it to my destination. And even then, I struggle with settling.
The word 'final' has never truly been in my vocabulary.
Someone told me recently while having a conversation about life, dreams and whatnot, that I seem to be more "settled" than she is. This struck up an emotion within me that only those who have experienced my bouts of extreme stubbornness could identify with.
I'm not settled.
I'm far from being settled.
What gives her the right to view my life in this way?
Perhaps it might not seem like an insult to some, or maybe even most of you. But over the last several months I've let these words identify me. They have slowly been seeping into my brain, rendering me paralyzed from moving forward.
I feel stuck.
Is it too late for me to go on one of my crazy, random adventures? Isn't it time I settle down, buy a house, pop out a couple of kiddos and live this American Life? Who's to say that I can't still travel and have kids and a home with 5 cats and a dog? Who's to say I have to follow the rules?
I never have before so I find it odd how much I'm struggling with even the thought of becoming uniform. Maybe it's because this is what I eventually am "supposed" to do. The critics floating around in my mind tell me it's not OK to be both nomadic and have a family with a white picket fence and a yard for the dog to roam.
I can't have it both ways.
Or can I?
I have been unhappy in my line of work for at least 5 of the 10 years I've been a part of it. Maybe I've never fully let myself settle into it though it's the security that has kept me from leaving after all of these years. I'm good at it. It pays the bills (sort of). It provides a place to go 5-6 days out of the week.
But I still feel lost and at a stand still.
I've always struggled with normalcy. Even the idea of it is something totally foreign to me. I remember having conversations in my head beginning at the age of 7. I would have contests with the people living in my mind over who takes the quickest shower, brushes her teeth faster, gets dressed, ect ect. Even then I recall stopping myself for a brief moment and clearly thinking, 'I don't think other children spend their time doing this, perhaps I'm crazy, oh well, who cares?'.
But I always cared...perhaps too much. Maybe even so much that it has affected me into my adult life. I care what people think and I care how my decisions, though they are my own, might affect the people I care about. This, I feel, has kept me from doing the things that have slowly, with time, become more and more important. I keep brushing them off, telling myself that there is always time. What's another day? Another week? Another year?
Suddenly the list has become massive in my brain and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Suddenly I have all of these things to accomplish and I don't know where to begin because I've been sitting in limbo for so long.Suddenly, I want to stop worrying so much about how it might affect someone else, when all along, it's been affecting myself without me being aware of it. I want to fill this void that prevents me from living.
Does this make me a bad person?
We all have a bucket list of dreams and we all have goals. Somewhere between childhood and becoming an adult, I have separated these two items into to two completely different categories. Somewhere I have lost the ability to make my dreams come true without feeling guilty.
Not completely, but I do struggle when every day life simply gets in the way.
I'm 33 years old and feel like I have been putting a time stamp on everything. Today is the beginning of a new way of thinking. Today is a new day. Today, I choose to do whatever the hell I want.
Today, the adventure begins.

"After my picture fades and darkness has
Turned to gray
Watching through windows - you're wondering
If I'm OK
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time -"
-Cyndi Lauper (Time After Time)

Meet Sadie Ann

What would you do if you saw an injured dog lying by the side of the road? Would you just keep driving, ignoring her obviously struggling body and hope that someone else would do the kind deed and stop? Would you pretend you didn’t see her with her sad eyes, asking for help? Or would you stop?

Dr. Genorah Warner of Skyland Animal Hospital did just this on the way to work early one Saturday morning. It was raining and she glanced over and saw something moving and obviously in distress on the side of the road. Once she got closer, she realized it was a dog that had most likely been hit by a car. Being a Veterinarian, she always has some blankets and at least one leash in her car so she pulled over to try to help the critter out.

She was obviously down in her back end, unable to walk on her own, and she was cold, wet and scared. The dog offered a few grumbled growls to Dr. Warner as she lifted her up into her car and placed her gently on some blankets. Obviously in pain, the injured pup seemed grateful to find some warmth in the blankets and the kind soul that actually stopped to help her, almost as though she knew that she was safe- for now.

Once at the hospital, Dr. Warner and her techs provided the dog with some pain management and antibiotics. We could visibly see that she had extensive wounds on her belly and right rear leg and that her pelvis was most likely broken. Upon scanning her for a microchip, we learned that she didn’t have one. The only form of identification she had was in the form of an old rabies tag from the humane alliance placed on her collar. She stayed through the weekend where we continued to offer her care until we were able to find her owners and get permission to perform more extensive procedures.

The following Monday, we learned that the dog and her housemate had been staying with a family member while her owner was out of town caring for her sick mother. The dogs had dug out of the fence and had been missing since the previous Wednesday. The housemate had also been hit and had many more extensive injuries. We learned that he had been euthanized only days before. They seemed thrilled to learn that their other dog, whose name we learned is Sadie Ann, had been found and was seemingly doing OK in the good hands of people who were growing to love her.

That morning, we sedated Sadie and performed hip and rear leg radiographs. We soon learned that she has a broken pelvis, split precisely in two, multiple fractures in her right hock and perhaps some internal injuries as well. We then learned that the surgery to prepare such injuries could cost anywhere from $1500-2000, not including after care or medications to help keep her comfortable. This kind of situation makes working in the veterinary field that much harder. Upon telling the owner this, the owners were given the option to either have the surgery done or euthanize. At this point, we couldn’t be certain of any other possible internal injuries that could minimize the time Sadie had with us. It was possible that the surgery would be performed and she still wouldn’t survive. The owner decided to give Sadie a chance and told us she would try to save up the money to have Sadie fixed.

Sadie came to us on December 14, 2013. Since then, she has been on pain management and antibiotics to treat her external wounds which have since healed. We have performed several radiographs and applied a splint to her left hock to help her get around better. She has had several bandage changes as well and she has also been heartworm and fecal tested. It also appears that her internal injuries weren’t as significant as what we had originally feared. She is able to use the bathroom on her own and she is now able to walk, sometimes jog, on her own, using her splinted leg to get traction and balance herself while walking and getting around the office. She has still not had any form of surgery, but she needs it in order to ensure a better quality of life.

She now also needs a new home. The previous owners have decided that they can no longer provide her with the extensive care that she needs both financially and mentally. It has been an emotional roller coaster for us all who have fallen in love with this sweet soul as we each have taken the time to care for her and keep her comfortable.

This is where you come in. We have set up a fund to “Please save Sadie”. To find out more information, please call Skyland Animal Hospital at (828)252-8644 or come on by and meet our sweet new friend who has taken up a space up front to help greet our clients as they come in each day.

We have coined the phrase “Miracle Dog” to this lovable, kind pup who has fought for her life daily since the moment Dr. Warner found her struggling by the side of the road. Each day she greets us with doggy kisses and a wagging tail, seemingly unaware that there is anything wrong with her. She’s a fighter and a huge inspiration to us all. Sadie has managed to touch the heart of each person she has encountered, providing love and comfort as only a dog can. Her story is a success that has just a little bit further to go. 

We ask you to please help save or friend Sadie. After all, it’s the least we can do since in a small way, she’s helped save us all here at Skyland Animal Hospital. We thank you for your love and support- and Sadie thanks you too.

Mary Will 

Not Fade Away

I feel like I'm disappearing.
Maybe it's the typical post- Holiday mixed with it's cold and winter/January blues, but I feel it's something greater that's pulling me back and forcing me to stay down. I'm finding that most days, I'm struggling to breathe. I literally have to remind myself to breathe in and breathe out, as though I'm teaching the art of this every day practice to myself all over again. I forget and hold my breath and I feel like I'm drowning, my head wavering just above the surface, offering a tease of hope that merely lingers because I refuse to let it go completely.
But it's hard.
And it hurts.
And I don't know why it hurts so badly but it does just the same. 
I used to go with the flow  much more easily, taking each day at a time because that's all I had. Time. Where did it go? How did I end up here? Stuck. Lost. Alone. Simply existing because I have to. My passion for life has started depleting as I see my goals and aspirations slipping from my fingertips, just out of reach from my touch, laughing at me.
It's so easy to get caught up in the everyday life "things" that we grow so accustomed to. What's for dinner? Why don't I have any clean socks? Damn. We're out of coffee. I find myself forgetting to do routine stuff that I've done for most of my adult life. I get caught staring into the deep unknown and struggle to come back to reality. Then once I do, I have no idea what's been going on around me for the past few minutes, hours, days?
I keep it all buried inside, hoping it will all just disappear. Then when it tries to sneak out into the form of words, I get even more frustrated because it doesn't make any sense and I can't convey what it is I'm feeling or what it is I'm trying to say. The words are meaningless, so I feel meaningless.
Lately, perhaps I am meaningless.
I search for the motivation it would take to simply get out of bed each morning. Willing myself to take that first step onto the cold hardwood floor and start moving. Don't sit down. Don't get distracted by your surroundings. Don't give up. Don't give in. Take a moment and breathe.
Just breathe.
Don't let the world take you over. Who cares if no one understands where you're coming from?
But wouldn't it be nice?
Wouldn't it be a joy to simply know that you're understood and you're not being a freak or seemingly appearing ungrateful for the life that has chosen you? Wouldn't it be nice to not feel like you have to explain yourself and every little action you take?
Wouldn't it be nice to not feel invisible?
To not fade away into the darkness that threatens to take hold of you?
Wouldn't it be so nice?