Sharing is Caring

I've gone back and forth over what to share and not share about my own personal journey through life. This being said, I always arrive back at the same conclusion; if I share something, and it helps even one person get through the struggle or joy or whatever that life has to offer, it's worth being out in the open for even a brief moment.
Because that's all it is, right? I pour my heart and soul into saying or sharing something, someone reads or doesn't read it, she identifies or doesn't identify, he cares or doesn't care...and everyone moves on.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
This may sound harsh but the truth is so very hard to understand, especially when the heart is involved. But, when is the heart not involved? When do you decide when to stop caring or let go or move on?
What makes the voices in your head stop?

I'm a caregiver and I use this term very broadly. Simply put, I've always been a caregiver in more ways than any one person could ever understand. Or maybe you, dear reader, do understand. No matter what line of work I have chosen in my life, I have always chosen to care. Sometimes, often times, too much. I've worked in customer service jobs where people would come in and find themselves sharing their life story with me. I listen. I always listen, and I have carried those conversations with me throughout life.
Is this normal?
Who cares, you may ask.
I do.

I remember what people say or don't say, what they do or don't do. I remember pain. I remember love. I remember hope. I remember joy. It's all inclusive of what my life has become and the type of person I've chosen to and strive to be.

I worked in Veterinary care for over 10 years. I watched and helped new owners learn how to care for their new puppy or kitten. I've been there for them when their beloved pet gets sick. I've held and cried with them when they've had to say that inevitable goodbye.
Time and time again I care and I carry these stories with me.

I've often felt like the substitute in peoples lives and perhaps they feel the same. Or maybe, it's just in my head, but I truly don't think so. I have to accept that this is something I most likely will never know. And that's OK. We all have our own lives to live, own joy to experience, our own battles to fight. If we're lucky, we have someone who understands and will share and be a part of this journey.
Life is made up of meetings and partings.
I think I read that in a book once.

When I decided to become a preschool teacher several years ago, I had no idea what was in store. I had no idea that I would literally fall in love with each child that came into my classroom, that I would think about them even after they moved on, knowing that I would be forgotten but hoping my lessons would stay with them throughout life.
It's hard. I never knew how hard it would be. I won't go into great detail but the hope of Andrew and I one day having a child of our own is still there. It's there when I wake up in the morning. It's there when I love and nurture a child that is not my own. It's there when I watch my friends and family members living their beautiful lives with their beautiful kids. It's there when I come home, sometimes feeling so empty inside because I still have so much love to give to a child that, I know, may never come to be.


But again. It's OK. I know with every inch of my heart that the love and friendship Andrew and I have for and with one another is so special. I know at the end of the day, it will always be enough. I know that the life we have made together is beautiful and beyond compare and I'm excited for the journey we have ahead of us (Spoiler alert: Oregon 2020....but I'll save that for another blog).
I know how lucky we are and I'm beyond grateful that our paths crossed and we took a leap of faith, jumping into yet another circumstance that could have potentially caused us even more heartache. We're survivors and most importantly, we aren't the substitute people to one another, in a world that treats us as such on a day to day basis.
He's my lobster. 

I've been reading many different kinds of motivational and, shall we call them 'self-help' books?, lately. Something recently struck me so hard to the core that I almost don't want to share it; because words are like music. Sometimes, you just want to keep them to yourself because you know deep down that they couldn't possibly have the same meaning for someone else as they do for you. Because when you do take the chance in sharing something so personal, you are met with the conflict of wanting someone to understand your heart completely or knowing that they never will, or worse...that they do understand and it's no longer fully yours.
The truth is, words shaped into meaning are meant to be heard, so I'll just leave this here for you to reflect on. 
"And  have you ever wondered what Peter Pan really looked like? His creator, J.M. Barrie, answered that question for us back in 1911. For Barrie, Peter Pan's image and his essence and his marvelous spirit of felicity can be found all over the world, hazily reflected, "in the faces" of women who have no children"- Elizabeth Gilbert.
Do you feel that?
Maybe not. 
But if you do, me too my friend.
Me too.

I never plan to stop caring.
But perhaps, I need to start learning how to let go of things that are beyond my control. 
More on that to come.
As always, thanks for reading. 

Joy Is Contagious

Good morning! Wow, it has been a really long time! So long, in fact, that it may or may not have taken me over an hour to figure out how to sign in and post to my own blog. (I will not confirm or deny whether or not this actually happened...)

Anyway. Yes. It's been awhile. Lots has happened since my last post. Life has happened, but isn't that the way the story always goes. We get caught up in everyday things and suddenly it's been almost two years since I've been able to find the time to share any of them.

I won't get into details. I only wish to welcome you back with open arms (with the hope that you're still here and willing to hear/read about all I have to say:). As always, thank you a thousand thank yous for hanging in there with me.

I would like to share with you a new idea that I have come across. It's not overtly original by any means but I want you all to become a part of it and contribute in what ever way that you can. It's called the "Joy is Contagious" campaign.  I am a huge believer that positive thinking goes a long way. It's so easy to get caught up in the sorrow and cruelty of the World. I'm not discounting the sadness by any means. I just feel that there is also joy to be shared.

So. Much. Joy!

I don't speak about or share my opinion when it comes to politics. It stresses me out too much and I find myself getting enveloped in peoples comments and opinions, trying to understand each and every side of the issue. It's exhausting being an empathetic individual and the stress is simply too much for me to handle on a daily basis. We're about to be completely bombarded by such issues, along with the rest of the going on's of the World, and I refuse to let such things bring me down. So, I choose joy.

What about you?

What brings you joy? There is no wrong answer...unless you're a serial killer...or psychopath...or..... OK. There are wrong answers but I think you get what I mean, right? Here are a few things on my list that bring me joy:

Andrew, Fall, Music, Working with Kiddos, Snuggles from my sweet pets, Dancing, Hugs, Smiles and friendly waves from strangers, Hanging out with friends and family, Jimmy Fallon, Playing guitar, singing at the top of my lungs to guilty pleasure songs on my way to work, puppies, kittens, cat videos, sloth videos, reading, writing, pictures, Audrey Hepburn...I could go on for days.

Here's what I would like for you to do should you choose to participate. Whenever you're feeling joy, post something about it on both your own and my Facebook page with #joyiscontagious. It can be a picture, a song, a quote. Be creative! If you are having a bad day or you're feeling sad, lonely or depressed, that's OK. We all have bouts of sadness and it seems there are only negative connotations when it comes to depression, feeling unhappy, or just having a crumby day. All I ask is that you try not to let it envelop you or define you. You deserve happiness. You deserve joy. My hope is that posts of joy will bring others joy, especially if someone is having a bad day and needs a pick me up. Joy is everywhere among the sadness.

Embrace it.

Life is too short not to.

I'm not saying don't recognize the issues and everything else going on in the World. I'm just asking that we don't let it consume us. We're all guilty of it but that doesn't give anyone the right to speak down to another person or make them feel like any less of a human being. We're all people and at the end of the day, we all have the same emotions. Perhaps our feelings and beliefs differ at times...of course they do, but we all deserve and, hopefully, feel joy.

I can't wait to see what you all have to share!

Peace, love and hugs.
#joyiscontagious

Cyber Wars

What has happened to the courage of speaking up when spoken to, not hiding behind a computer screen that masks our face and true emotions?
What has happened to the Golden Rule, treating others as you wish to be treated?
It's so easy to make comments on a strangers posts, ridiculing him or her with harsh cruelty that you would never have the nerve to speak should you ever be presented face to face. The sad truth is that we not only do it to strangers, but to our friends. Maybe you had a bad day yourself and you are just trying to get out some sort of pent up rage, anger or fear out there into the world far away from you. Maybe you're jealous that you didn't think of it first or have the nerve to post something that might make you feel silly or awkward or vulnerable.
Maybe you're just an asshole.
Whatever the case, it seems so easy these days to not only just 'speak your mind' and share your, sometimes, unwanted opinions but to be cruel and uncaring in the process and forget that someone else, a person, is waiting to hear from you on the other side of the screen.
In so many ways, it is easier to put yourself out there via YouTube, Facebook and personal blogs. But it's that much easier for the critics to capture you in a moment of vulnerability, to let these strangers (and friends) whose opinions truly shouldn't matter, matter even more than the words that should stick with you; the positive supporters, the non-assholes of the world.
I personally choose to believe that those who are cruel just for the thrill of being so, are in the smaller percentage of the world. I feel that most people are good and want to do and be good. But it's hard to let go of everything else, knowing that such people do exist and that they're out there simply waiting to pounce on their next victim. Perhaps I spend too much time trying to understand such people and the whys of their actions. I don't, and never will, understand how anyone is OK with being the bully.
We all have a story. We all have fears and emotions that we hide from everyone else. Knowing this about human nature in general, it seems that it would just be easier to simply be supportive and if you disagree with something, that's fine. That's what keeps this place we live in so interesting. I'm not saying you have to agree. I'm saying you can disagree with a little bit more tact.
Words are the most powerful being in this universe. Once said, you can't take them back. So next time you feel the need to speak up, think before you shoot the words out of your keyboard onto the screen and out into cyber space at another living soul.
I know it will still happen. I know that some people will never change and that's just the truth.
So I'm speaking now to you, the writer or sharer of such posts/events/opinions/videos/ect ect that get attacked, sometimes for no reason at all. Keep writing. Keep sharing. You're the hero in this story because you choose to not let it get to you enough to stop.
Your voice matters to the rest of us who are waiting to hear it, no matter how small or meek.

'This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and the will to trust
Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us'
The Wailin' Jenny's- 'One Voice'

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.