Some Days Are Diamonds...

And some days are stones. Okay, more like massive boulders that hang on your neck, threatening to pull you under.

This last week has been one of those weeks that you just can't believe is happening and you pray ends quickly, but drags on.

On my way to class last week, I hit a deer. In the city limits, outside of a cemetery. Then, on my home from class on Monday, I stopped at a yield sign coming off the highway. As I looked over my shoulder to check from traffic coming, an idiot who had been sitting behind me, rear-ended me. *SIGH* Luckily, it was only cosmetic damage to the truck and I'm fine. Tuesday I had the final mid-term which went fairly well. Wednesday went well. Thursday I completely stressed out and flipped a switch that sent me over the edge. I exploded all over everyone in my life. Friday, I had a pop quiz in history and a quiz in math. The pop quiz actually went better than the planned quiz, surprisingly enough.

And working on edits for my books? Yeah, just didn't happen! If I attempted them, I would have ended up hitting the delete button and I've been told no one wants that to happen. 

Let me tell you a couple of lessons I learned this week: 
1)Asking for help is not a sign of weakness.
2)If you don't ask the question, the answer is always "No!"
3)"I'm sorry" are only words unless you change your behavior.
4)Overthinking leads to panic which exacerbates the problem which makes you overthink and panic more.
5)Walking away for a few moments to catch your breath will give you a new perspective.
6)Speaking when you're stressed out and upset makes words come out of your mouth that hurt other people.
7)You don't have to have all the answers, but don't be afraid to ask someone who knows more to help you out.

I tell ya, this has been a week of epic proportions! I've cried, raged, wanted to punch the walls, then, I took some deep breaths, stepped back, and said "I can't do this without some help!" It's amazing the doors that opened up and the hands I found being offered.

I have found the blessings in the disasters and I'm thankful for the little things.

So, I guess the final lesson is this:
8) Diamonds are made from stones under pressure.

Hello!

I'm taking a break from studying to say "Hello!" I'm in the middle of studying for my mid-terms and it's hurting my brain. I've gotten out for fresh air (and to put gas in my truck). I've made food and ate. I've...wait, I swear I'm not stalling! :) 

My study buddy

This guy has been by my side all day. He's such a snuggler on days when he can get some snuggle time in. He's not much help when I'm trying to figure out algebra or history, but he's my heart. Having a bigger bed to snuggle in has absolutely NOTHING to do with his love! *snort* Life is good and I'm so grateful for all that I have!

I hope you have a blessed week ahead of you. I've gotta get back to this studying thing. I've got 7 layer dip Combos and Pepsi to sustain me. 

Bright blessings to you and yours!

The Art of Storytelling

It isn't really a surprise to anyone that I became a storyteller. After all, it's in my blood.

I remember sitting on my grandmother's lap as she told me story after story. She'd tell me about where my family came from, how her and grandpa met, the night of my mom and dad's first date, the night I was born, growing up, losing her mother, and life. 

There are some of these stories I can recite in my sleep and others I have lost the thread of. However, I'd give anything for another story from this beloved woman.

I've been watching one of my favorite movies lately. It showed up in my Netflix suggestions and my heart did a little flip. How To Make An American Quilt is the title and it has made me a bit nostalgic. Women sitting around a table, having conversations about relationships, life, and love. 

All of this reminiscing has me wondering if women do this anymore? Do they sit and share stories with their children? Will this next generation know where they came from, where their roots lie? For so long, women have been the storytellers, the secret keepers, for their families, for the world. I'm afraid that there will so much lost to future generations when we stop telling the stories of how our families came to be. We are so involved in the future and how we want things to turn out that we forget to look back and realize how we came to this place.

I'm going to wrap this up with an example of the importance of storytelling: My grandma started a tradition when I was small and it carried on until she passed away. She would tell me the story of the night I was born. When she died, my mom and dad began telling me their versions of that same night. When my dad died, my cousin picked up with her version. That story is a very special part of who I am and I know that the art of storytelling has impacted who I was, who I am, and who I have yet to become. 

This piece always touches my heart in a profound way. Carry it with you.