I'll Always Remember You Young

This song has been playing on the radio a lot lately. It catches my ear, but I seldom hear all of the words simply because I'm lost in my own thoughts most days. However, the other day was a rough one. 

Christmas is always tough time, but this was the first one without my partner in crime, my rock, my best friend...my beautiful boy, Diesel. My heart has been a bit heavier this year. I've been missing my grandparents, my dad, Diesel, my cousin (and now his partner) and my mind has traveled across the ethereal plane, wondering if they are all okay.

The first time I remember asking my grandma how old she was, she answered, "I'm 53." She wasn't much older then than I am now. I cannot imagine Grandma coloring her hair wild colors and wearing the clothes I wear. But in my mind, she is forever 53. Playing ball with us kids, making date candy into dog turd shapes to give to her baby brother, and playing Chinese checkers on rainy Saturdays.

My grandpa is frozen in time as a younger man. Reminding me to hold my silverware like a lady, to not wear my cap so far down on my ears cuz "ladies don't have cauliflower ears", and buying his only granddaughter plastic collectible ponies for Christmas.

My parents will be forever in their thirties. Back when they were happy. Back before Dad's PTSD took over his life. Back when we were still a family.

My cousin will always be 18 (and I can hear him laughing). I remember his smile...god, how I loved him. Driving to town with him to pick up his paycheck, Billy Idol blasting on the radio, no cares in the world. 

I know my cousin, Beth, will laugh, but to me, she'll always be 16. Rimming my waterline with black eyeliner while Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons rocked out on the television in her parents' living room. She is the closest thing to a big sister I've ever had.

And my darling Diesel will forever be the puppy who loved to be carried to bed, sung "Baby Mine", and was the best friend a girl could ask for.

 

My friends are forever frozen in time at 18. When our futures were bright, life was simple, and the world was ours for the taking.

The other day, someone asked me what I was like when I was younger. I paused a moment or two and let my mind travel back in time. I wasn't much different than I am now. Ballsy. Full of sass. Full of spirit. I was the girl who hung out with the guys with jacked-up trucks on Main Street on Friday night, her best friend by her side. Driving backroads with the windows down and the music up loud. Seeing just how much trouble we could find. My nose wasn't always in a book, but pretty damn often. I dreamed of getting out of the one horse town and being someone special. I had big dreams and lofty aspirations. 

I've often wondered how people remember me. If they remember me at all. I'm sure I'm the bad guy to some, wounded to others, beautiful with an ugly heart/ugly with a beautiful heart, unlovable, untouchable, and I'm sure the list goes on. I just hope someone somewhere remembers me fondly as someone who gave her all. And always remembers me young!

Making Memories

I'm not a person for taking photos. I will take them of the dogs, but everything else falls by the wayside. A friend mentioned the other day that I'm too busy being part of the memories to worry about photographing them. This got me thinking. I have a lot of photographs from various family gatherings. However, my favorite memories live in my heart. 

Tis the season... And these days, I get lost in memories. I let the reminiscing carry me where it will since I believe that I'm supposed to learn from them. When this popped up in my feed the other day, my very favorite memory came to mind.

I was a little girl, probably around 8 or 9. Most of you know that I was a farmer's daughter. And it was a life that I loved more than anything. Of course, growing up on a dairy farm, life and death were always lurking about. Life was my favorite part. Better yet was the babies. Dreams of being a vet filled my days. My dad saw me. He really saw me and knew me better than most. 

It was a cold night. I was fresh from the bath and in my warm flannel nightgown. Dad was in the barn, waiting for a cow to give birth. Mom was getting my brother into his nightclothes when Dad called up from the barn. The cow was in labor and he thought I'd like to be there to see the calf come into the world. I remember Mom saying, "But she just got out of the bathtub." Whatever Dad said to her, I heard Mom say, "I'll send her down." I put on my winter barn boots and my winter coat before making the trek down to the barn. 

I close my eyes and I can still smell the warmth of the barn. The scent of warm milk mixing with the smell of the cows. To most people, the odors alone would make them roll their eyes. To me, it is home.

Anyway...Dad was leaning against the barn wall, waiting and watching. He had a thermos of coffee in case it was a longer night than he hoped. I remember the silence as I stepped in front of him and he hugged me tight as we waited. Eventually, he turned an old bucket upside down and had a seat, pulling me into his lap. We sat in complete silence as we watched the cow tremble and push. Slowly, the feet began to emerge and I held my breath. Dad smiled and rubbed my back, reminding me to breathe. Eventually, the calf, a huge bull, was born. Dad got up and cleaned the newborn, made sure he could stand, and let the new baby eat. Once mother and baby were bedded down for the night, we turned off the lights, then walked hand in hand back to the house.

No words were spoken between father and daughter that night, but volumes were said. And the most amazing memory was made. In that moment, I was seen as the person I was becoming.

It took over 30 years before I felt that way again...seen for who I was and who I was becoming. That memory began with a funny comment and the beautiful laugh that belonged to the man with the charismatic smile and that memory is for another day. And while this memory belongs solely to him and me, this song means so much to me because of the truth it holds.

An Exercise in Forgiveness

Last night, I watched a movie that hit me at the very deepest, darkest depths of my soul. It triggered emotions that I thought I'd buried deep enough that they'd never surface again. I sobbed and cried like I haven't sobbed and cried in a very long time.

I went to bed, tears still in my eyes. This morning when I woke up, it hit me hard. For the majority of my life, I've been expecting people to love me the way I needed to be loved. I didn't accept that they may be loving me the only ways they knew how.

I have always felt at a deficit because of this. Then, the man with the charismatic smile showed up and saw me. He really saw me and all that went with me. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like a disappointment.  I didn't feel inadequate. I didn't feel like an embarrassment. I didn't feel like I was too much. I felt, for the first time in my entire life, like I was enough. 

I prayed for him for years. I prayed for that feeling for years. And when it arrived, I couldn't believe it was happening or that it would stay. I didn't recognize the contentedness. 

So, today, I'm releasing forgiveness into the universe. For being angry at people who loved me in the only ways they knew, for blaming others for my feelings, for the apologies that have/will never come, and for myself, for allowing these things to keep me from seeing love when it arrived. 

I write this to encourage you to forgive those who have done wrong by you, whether intentionally or unintentionally. It is not an excuse for keeping toxic people in your life. It is an agent to help with the healing of your heart and moving forward in a positive manner.

Love and light to you all!

No Such Thing as Coincidence

I have pondering a lot of things lately. Like why things have happened the way they have, why I took a left at Albuquerque instead of that right, why I work this horrific retail job, why I met the man with the charismatic smile, just the fun stuff in life, ya know?

I didn't encourage my ex-husband to take the job in Groton, Connecticut because I needed to make sure we couldn't fix what was broken. If we had moved there, well, things would definitely have been different. *G* And the man who lived in Groton had to live his life first.

I went back to school and moved to WI with my former friend because I had to learn to stand on my own two feet without help from anyone. I had to learn to believe in myself.
By going to the college that I chose, I met the man with the charismatic smile, who changed my life more than he will ever understand. He saw beauty where I could only see the ugliness, brilliance where I only saw stupidity, and hope where I only saw despair. And love beyond all compare.

My dearest and bestest friend told me that the reason I work the horrific retail job was to meet her, and I don't think she's wrong. Because I met her and my life changed for the better. We have this bond that is unreal some days. We feed off each other's emotions (good and bad) and share a wicked sense of humor. She's one of those people I would have forever missed had I never met her.

The horrific retail job also led me to the office job that I adore. One night, a customer walked in and changed my life. She took me from receptionist to office manager, giving me opportunities that I would never have anticipated. She allows me to shine and pushes me to be better.

Things have been happening lately that have me wondering if things will ever work out. I have been questioning if God/the universe/the fates will ever untangle this mess. I wonder why the things happening are happening and none of it makes sense to me. However, if this blog shows anything, it seems that the Powers that Be really do know what they're doing. I may have found the man with the charismatic smile in Groton, but we had to wait until we were both in Wisconsin first. Because I had to be here to find a horrific job that led me to my dearest friend and the job I adore. 

The people who arrive in your life are meant to be there. Whether it is a lesson, a reason, or a season, they are there to help you on this journey. After all, (and I heard this quote for the first time the other day) "We're all just walking each other home." (Quote by Ram Dass)

Strength

I have a few friends who are going through some tough stuff at the moment. Because I am their friend, my shoulder is always available for them to lean on. I'm not going to discuss their issues here because it isn't my business to discuss, but I will say that in most of the cases...been there, done that.

The funny thing is that these friends don't know each other, yet their responses are the same, "I wish I had your strength." And I laugh. However, I thought maybe you all needed to hear this, too, so a blogpost was born.

I wasn't born strong. Strong-willed, yes, but strong, no. This is strength that was born of fire. I had to walk through it to be this strong. This is born of years of struggling. I didn't come from much. I was never given much. Everything was earned by sweat, blood, and tears. I watched my parents struggle. Fighting to survive. Life was never easy and I would certainly not be the person I was if it had been. I've spent years walking through the fire of Life. Determining that I wanted to survive. Battling the elements and the demons that fought to keep me down. I spent 20 years battling my own dragons with no knight in battered armor to defend me. I learned to wield a sword and battle them myself.

Someone has told me that my backbone of steel could only be forged by the fire of battle. I chuckle because I've always thought I was simply made this way. I've never thought I was forged in the fire. However, I have always pictured myself as a phoenix, rising from the ashes. Beautiful, flame-colored plumage that glistens in the sun and catches droplets of water in the rain.

Life is seldom fair and we spend more time in the storms of Life than walking on sunshine. Strength comes from the storms more than the sun. It's there, deep within you. Show the world that you aren't their bitch! Live life on your terms!

And when the storms of Life rage around you, take off your shoes and dance in the rain!

Retrograde of Mercury

I don't know if you are a believer in Mercury Retrograde and the chaos that ensues and it really doesn't matter. I hold a half-hearted belief in it. I believe the universe and all it holds can conspire against us, but I also believe that beliefs can fuck up your world more than any other cosmic entity.
This all being said, let me say, I read that my past would come back to haunt me. A past that too often needs to stay buried.

In a matter of days, I had gotten a friend request from someone I never dreamed I'd hear from again. Not sure if this connection is a good thing or a bad thing. I was, then, messaged by my ex-husband who, as always, is up to no good and is hell-bent on attempting to ruin any relationships he can. He is not and will not be successful. After all, misery loves company and I refuse to wallow in the misery he stirs up. Shortly thereafter, an old friend showed up in my DM's. He wondered if he could stop in and say "hi." It was nice to see him...a friendly face from a time when I was a different person. Not sure he found the woman he was expecting, but it was nice to see him. Before the week was out, this friend's wife popped up in my DM's and our sisterhood was reignited. 

Our friendship has always been there, but life...it gets in the way. We've both been led to believe things we should have honestly checked out with the other. Now, our friendship has caught fire and I cannot begin to express the happiness she's brought back to my days. Conversations that lead to giggling like we are teenagers again. 

And I've been considering making a trip back to my hometown. I'm not sure why (okay, I want my damn cottage cheese and nut rolls!), but I'm feeling the need to return to my roots for a visit. I have no plans at the moment and I'm not sure if it will be a few days or a few hours. I'm just mulling things over in my mind. I do know that at some point I am going to get my toes back in the sand and water of Lake Michigan. 

Maybe I need to say a final goodbye to a chapter of my life that is truly closed. I know I've had to close (and lock) the door on a few people from my past. Other doors needed to be reopened and my past allowed to come back in to be part of my present and my future. 

I know I've been making a lot of changes in my life and becoming more of the woman I used to be. The one who could be a little reckless and free. The wild woman who danced barefoot in the wildflowers. The one who opened her heart with reckless abandon and loved with her whole heart. There are a few people in my life who are owed that. Including myself. I need to remember the girl I used to be because I really did like who she was. She was fun and usually up for anything. It's time to find her buried in the rubble of a failed marriage, the rabble of collapsed self-confidence, and let her back out to shine. 

Life isn't always easy and sure as hell is never fair, but I like to think I've learned the lessons I've needed to learn from the people to whom I've said "Farewell." And I can say with all sincerity I will never paint my future with the stiffened bristles of the brush used to paint my past...at least, I promise to try not to. 

It's My Life...

Hold onto your hats because I am about to hit my soapbox again!

Let me say this for everyone to hear: STOP SHAMING WOMEN! And for those of you in the back who may have missed that: STOP SHAMING WOMEN!!!!!

I am turning 47 in a short while. 47 does not mean that my vagina is ready to be closed up and seen as a decoration only. 47 does not mean that I have to give up my dreams. 47 does not mean that I have to act like an old woman, change the way I wear my hair, dress in muumuus and house slippers, and god forbid, forget about sex! 

I am so sick of seeing the women in my life, including myself, being shamed for dressing in jeans, t-shirts, and tennis shoes. Being shamed for dating men who are younger, enjoying sex, and enjoying the life we have been given.

And who are the people doing shaming? It's women! So, again, let me say this for those of you in the back: Women are allowed to do whatever they damn well please! We do not need YOUR permission to wear clothes we like, do our hair the way we want to, have sex partners who are younger than we are, or love our bodies. 

So a word of advice: Don't tell women they are unable to do the things they want to do. If someone asks your opinion, then give it. If they don't ask, keep your damn mouth shut. If it isn't coming from a place of sincere love, then hush.

I have had to give up a lot of things to get where I am. It may not be perfect and it may not be where I want to be at the end of things, but this is MY life. These are my decisions, for better or worse. You don't have to like them or even support them. You just need to keep your mouth shut unless I specifically ask you for your advice. I don't look 47. I don't act 47. I don't dress like I'm 47. I don't color my hair like I'm 47. I don't feel 47. And I will be damned if I'm old before my time.

*Steps off my soapbox* Please hear what I'm saying and apply it to your life. It will make things so much better, I promise. 

The "C" Word

Oh, Lord! Not that "c" word! No, this is about the word "confidence". You know that one thing I'm not? LOL 

I was having a conversation with someone the other day who couldn't believe that my self-esteem was actually as low as I claim it is. She told me that, because of the way I dressed and carried myself, she truly believed my confidence was very healthy. I laughed...HARD!

From the earliest I can remember, I've struggled with confidence. I have never thought of myself as beautiful or strong or, well, confident. For this person to tell me that she didn't believe I had an issue with my size, my shape, or my style stuns me. The funny thing is? She's not the first one to say it. The man with the charming smile told me that, too. "I watch you walk across campus with your head up, your shoulders back, and I see a woman with so much confidence." (I usually had my earbuds in and didn't pay much attention to anyone unless they were in my path.)

I look at myself in the mirror and I don't see a woman who has confidence. I see someone who is looking tired and showing more of her age everyday. I am not happy with my looks which is why I change them up. I add color to my hair to hide the grays. I add false eyelashes to make my eyes look bigger. I wear make-up to cover the blemishes. I dress younger than I am because I hate the clothes that are marketed toward women my age. I'm still a t-shirt and jeans with sneakers kind of girl. 

I feel like I've been faking 'til I make it. Maybe I've managed to fool myself into actually having confidence. Who knows? If others perceive the illusion of confidence in the way I speak, act, or dress, then maybe, just maybe, I have gained some over the years.

I had a blog that I had done for a college project a while ago about why I'm beautiful. I asked women of every age to tell me why they were beautiful. I had some amazing answers from some incredible women. It was empowering and enlightening. 

So, tell me...what makes you beautiful? Apparently, my answer needs to be...my confidence *G*

Enough

What is enough? That is the question that is on my mind today. I've been cleaning and pondering, Netflixing and pondering, baking and pondering. What I have discovered is that I don't know.

A few years ago, someone sent me this:

And I still wonder what is enough. 

This word has been a big part of my world lately. "When will you be happy enough?" "What amount of money in the bank will be enough?" "How much love is enough to sustain you during the darkest hours?"

In the last phone conversation I had with my dad almost 7 years ago, he asked me, "Girl, have you been you loved enough?" I remember laughing and saying, "What is enough?"His reply was, "I don't know." I asked him if he had been loved enough. He thought for a moment or two before saying, "I think so."

Then, today, one of my Facebook memories was this one: 

As someone who has always been not smart enough, not strong enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough, not young/old enough, not demure enough, etc., I struggle. Every. Single. Day. The years of degradation run through my mind daily like songs on repeat. Some days, I can quiet the voices, but most days, I can't. I mean, how can I be enough when I don't know what the measurement of enough is? 

I guess "enough" is the amount I need to be content in this life. The anxiety-ridden overachiever that I am is pretty secure in saying that there will never be enough.

How about you? What is your definition of "enough"? I'm a curious person who has a mind that is way too active on her off days. I really would love to hear what your thoughts are.

Whatever your definition, I want to leave you with this: 

The End of An Era

It has been almost a week that I've had to survive without my best friend by my side.
On March 25th at 3:19am, I held my best friend's paw and felt his heart take its last beat. With the final beat, an era came to an end.

Diesel was the end of a long line of love. It began with Kodiak and when Diesel drew his last breath, the line of love ended. 

For the first time in almost 20 years, my house doesn't have a dog residing within its walls. And it doesn't feel like home anymore.

There is no more "thump, thump" of his tail as I walk through the door. My bed stays completely made each day because there is no dog pulling my pillows to the center of the bed so he can lie on them. There is no one to eat half of my meals each day. There are no toenails sounding on the wooden floors. There is no jingle of his chain as he gets up to move around. There is no body interrupting my sleep so he can get as close as possible to me. There is no ungodly snoring to warm my heart. There is no massive paws demanding a scratch when I'm in the middle of another task. And I miss him with every beat of my heart.

He came into my life when he was 4 months old. After my Rottie passed away, I had sworn there wouldn't be any more additions to our pack. Then, 9 months later, Diesel came along. He was a spoiled Mama's boy from the start. I would hold him, rock him, sing to him, and treat him better than some children. Everything I did was for him. I got a job so I could afford to give him the life he deserved. I went to school every day because I needed a better job. He was the reason I got out of my bed every single day. He was what kept the depression and anxiety at bay. His goofy antics and his big wrinkly face could brighten up every single day.

My dear boy was the love of my life! I was so blessed to be his mom for his lifetime.  Rest easy, big guy! I loved you more than you could ever know and you blessed me the day you chose me to be your mom. There was NEVER a day that I regretted anything I did for you. You were the best thing in my life and I cannot tell you that enough!

I used to sing this song to Diesel all the time. The morning he passed away, I was blessed enough to sing this to him one final time.

With all the love in my heart, I miss you, my darling boy! Fly high. Run free. Tell Daddy I miss him, too. I'll see when I reach the Rainbow Bridge.

Diesel: 2008-2019

It's Only a Bad Day...

Today I walked into chaos when I walked through the doors to my second job (formerly known as my primary job). I'm usually only there a couple of days a week. I have found that while I miss the people I work with, I don't miss the job itself.

Let me tell you what happened. First of all, before I could even punch in, the one sales associate who was supposed to be my support for 4 hours called in. Then, I punched in only to find one of our registers was down. On a Saturday. When the sun was finally shining. And no one had bothered to share this information with me. We also had a new computer upgrade that is wreaking havoc with the only working computer! I texted my manager who told me to see if the other two people working later in the day could come in early. Neither were available. Which is definitely NOT their fault...people have other lives :) I had one person left to call in and she strode through the doors like Wonder Woman. She got to be my superhero today. Our day was crazy busy and, fortunately, breathing is an automatic response. When my other friend walked through the door, I had hit my limit. I was close to tears from the stress of it all and I managed to keep my shit together. Barely. Wonder Woman spent her unexpected shift dealing with the nonsense like the amazing person she is. And she handled my mood like a pro. The ray of sunshine who walked in at 2pm reminded me that I am loved and let me vent about the bullshit of the day.

I went home, took a long hot shower, ate a HUGE dinner (and am stuffed to the gills), and sat down to relax with a warm blanket. It was as I took a deep breath that I realized that I hadn't internalized the bad day I had had. I was able to process the events and put them away. It was only a bad day, not a bad life. This day will pass and will end on an up note. At the end of this day, all that will matter is that the people I call "friends" still want to be my friend. They understand the crabbiness isn't pointed in their direction, it is just the job that I despise.

This is only a bad day. The bullshit of the day will pass and when tomorrow dawns, the bullshit won't matter, but the friends will.

Caring for Myself

Let's face it, 2018 was a bitch! If it could go wrong, it did. And I think December was the culmination of a perfect storm. It all came to a head and it wasn't pretty. Health issues arose. Family stuff blew out of proportion. My dog got sick and scared the crap out of me. My job was taking over my life. I was ready to throw in the towel. 

Before the beginning of 2019, I was giving some in-depth thoughts to my life, my goals, and my dreams. I began to focus on the important things and noticed that I was not one of them. I wasn't practicing self-care in any way, shape, or form. So, I knew it was time to make a few changes.

I began to look at my life as if it were a bulletin board. One of those corky things, overstuffed with papers. For the last few years, I've just been thumbtacking things to the board and ignoring them. Book ideas, dreams, goals, hopes, ambitions...they all were piled on top of each other. 

When I decided it was time to make a change, I began to clean off the "bulletin board". Like saved yellowed receipts and newspaper clippings, photographs, souvenirs from trips, recipes, phone numbers, etc., each piece was removed one by one and examined. I began to throw away things that were no longer of use. I put the photos in a box. The recipes got tucked into my recipe book. I cleaned up my social media. I deleted apps that I no longer use. I got rid of contacts that I  no longer have contact with. I organized all of my book notes.

Once the bulletin board was cleaned off, I took a look at the blank space. I made the decision to only put the things of great importance on that board. I put a pin in the friendships that I knew would understand I needed some time to get my life together. 

I realized that I had been neglecting myself for so long. It was time to get my goals put back on track. I found a way to accomplish some things that I have had on my to-do list for a long time. I had ignored them and pushed them aside for others. 

I have started to take time for myself, too. Long hot showers with relaxing soaps, mani/pedi days, coloring my hair when it is needed, napping, relaxing, and turning off social media. I also began to appreciate the blessings that I had been given. My job isn't the center of my universe these days. When I'm home, I'm fully committed to being in the moment. Whether I am writing, cleaning, or simply hanging out, I'm present for everyone and everything. I am beginning to love my life again. My depression has lifted. My anxiety is almost nil. I'm in such an amazing place.

Some days it means I simply sit down and enjoy the quiet while drinking a cup of coffee, but damn! It feels good to put myself first for a change. After all...

You Gotta Have Faith...

Let's have a conversation about faith. It is a subject that has been on my mind a lot in the last few years. I was raised in faith and taught that faith would get me through the troubles Life would throw at me. My problem over the last few years has been that I wasn't sure what faith was. What did it look like? I've had a lot of people who have told me, "Have faith." But if I'm not sure what it looks like, how can I have it? So, I thought I'd share some things that I have discovered.

Faith isn't always about HUGE miracles. It isn't about, "Oh my god! I have a hundred people coming over for dinner. I have 2 chicken breasts and a bag of rice to feed them. God will provide." Some days faith is simply getting out of bed. For me, faith can look like me getting up and getting ready for work because I know I'll still be part of this earthly plane when the bills come due. My faith can also look like me coming home from work, taking a shower, getting into my pajamas, and crawling beneath the warm covers with a prayer on my lips, believing that there is a higher power who is listening to the things on my heart.

Lately, it has looked like me applying for a second job. I don't believe that some higher power is going to set bags of money on my doorstep and make big deposits in my bank account. However, by applying for this job, I had faith that I would get it. After months of praying and working hard, there was an open door in front of me. The job is only for a couple of months, but I would gain experience that is needed to upgrade myself to a job outside of retail in the future. It will also provide me with the means to have a bit extra to put aside for a rainy day and to pay on student loans.

I'm not a believer in big miracles. They seldom happen to people like me. However, I do believe in subtle miracles. Like praying, with tears streaming down my face, that my dog would get better. Or praying that my heart be open to accepting the love I deserve. Or believing that I would find the strength to walk away from toxic relationships that drain me. 

Faith looks so different to everybody. I've stumbled in my faith. I've pushed it aside. I've lost the majority of it. I've given up on it for the most part. Did I get the job I wanted? Hell no, but I got the job that would pay my bills each month plus give me a bit extra. It also led to this 2nd job opportunity which will definitely give me a cushion. Did I get the relationship I thought I wanted? Nope, I got something so much better! Has my faith healed my depression and anxiety? No, but it has given me the necessary tools to deal with it. Some days it simply means doing the dishes, taking a shower, and making sure the dog eats which means I eat. 

I'm not sure what your faith looks like to you. Just know that I'm not judging you. You do you and I'll do me. Together we'll make our corners of the world a little brighter, a little better, and a little kinder. However, you first have to start the kindness by being kind to yourself. 

Be humble and kind! Tell me what your faith looks like to you. I love to hear your thoughts and comments.

Have a blessed week!