The Hardest Words to Say

Somebody shared a meme similar to this the other day and I laughed. Out of these 3 things, Worcestershire sauce is the easiest for me to say. "I was wrong" is even easier to say than #2.

I am an "I love you" whore! I tell everyone who matters in my life that I love them, but "I need you"? Those words seldom cross my lips.

Things have been a bit difficult in my life lately. While I have friends to turn to, saying, "I need you" is extremely hard for me to say. I don't want others to hold space for me. Everyone has so much going on in their lives and I feel like my shit is just that...shit.

Now, I know there is at least one person reading this who is thinking that she and I are going to tussle because I will hold space for her no matter what. When everything goes pear-shaped in her life, I will drop whatever I'm doing to be there. When she says, "I need some Boo time," I rearrange whatever I can for her. 

Let's be clear: I have people who will drop everything...IF I would just ask. I just don't ask. My Boo and my Peanut? They'd move heaven and earth for me if I only said, "I need you." 

I like to be needed. It helps me push my drama aside for awhile to focus on someone else. I just hate to need others. For so long, I have lived my life without needing someone to lean on. And needing someone has the connotation (in my mind) of being too weak to handle my shit myself. 

I do know that there is strength in saying the words, "I need you." And when others say those words to me, my first thought is "How can I help you carry the weight that is on your heart?" But my flawed thinking has me believing that if I ask for time or help, then I am being judged for being weak.

Tell me: What words are hardest for you to say? How are you learning to say them anyway?

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!

Yes, You Can!

The other day I posted a blog about the day you became the person you are now. I had something happen this morning that made me realize exactly where I am going! And trust me, it was a bit of a revelation *G*

How many times in your life have you been told that you can't do something? Not the kind of "NO!" that is for your own safety, but the kind where someone doesn't believe you are smart enough, strong enough, or simply enough. I've encountered this more times than I care to count.

I was sent this last night. If you know me, you'll know that my faith is a mishmash of a lot of various faiths. However, this one spoke to my heart to the point that I was beyond words. 

When I wanted to be a veterinarian, I was told I couldn't because a) there wasn't enough money for college (financial aid wasn't what it is now) and b) my heart was too soft. When I wanted to be a nanny, I was told that I'd never be able to be too far from my family. (That one was sort of true!) When I decided maybe I'd give college a try, I was told that I wasn't ready. I had too many things on my plate and I'd fail. When I actually did start college, I was told that I'd never follow through. I was told that an English degree was a waste of money and I'd never be able to find a decent job. When I wrote, I was told I'd never continue. (I will someday, but right now, it just isn't the right time.) And this morning, I was told that it was interesting that I was still pursuing an English major because I was neither a good writer nor a strong one. 

Well, guess what? I am still here. I'm on the downhill slide to a number I'm not comfortable admitting just yet, but I'm not giving up! I'm still busting my ass and I WILL succeed! I'm a good writer. I'm a strong writer. I'm intelligent and I will accomplish the things I want in this life! I can only get better with all the incredible people who are teaching me, showing me, and guiding me. And guess what? I don't need your approval!

And neither do you! If I can do this, you can, too. Get out there and make your dreams come true! I'll believe in you, if you need me to! 

Changing Your Stars

I've been doing a bit of thinking lately. Mainly about who I am, where I've come from, what it took to get me to this point, that sort of thing.

It was never expected that I would go to college. Financially, it just wasn't possible. My grades were never good enough and, to be honest, I don't think anyone ever expected me to dream bigger. My cousin went to a tech college to get a degree, but he never did anything with it because he made better money at a job that didn't require a degree. 

I remember being in high school and my guidance counselor asked what I wanted to do after high school. I remember saying I wanted to be a nanny. I wasn't thinking too far ahead. I knew I always wanted to be a wife and mother. I never dreamed too far beyond that. I didn't have the traditional 5-year plan, let alone 10-year plan.

When I stepped onto the campus of the 4-year college I currently attend, this is exactly how I felt.

I didn't fit! I felt as if I were being judged by all these people who didn't have a clue about me. And I certainly thought they could tell how old I was by merely looking at me. I felt like I was too old to be in these classes. I felt too stupid! After all, why shouldn't I be able to work 40 hours a week, go to classes full-time, study, AND pass with amazing grades? I set myself up for complete and utter failure! And I felt completely alone in this world, which certainly didn't help me.

The worse I did in my classes, the more depressed I became. And the cycle was vicious! I had to work to pay my bills, but I needed to study to pass my classes. I didn't know how to balance it all! I lost my way and wandered along my Life's path, disoriented, depressed, and failing at everything.

I knew I was meant for more. My heart told me I was meant for more. And my mind needed more stimulation than I was getting at my job. That meant I HAD to stay in school. But I HAD to follow my heart, my passion, and tune out those who had no stake in my future.

"A Knight's Tale" is one of my favorite movies (if you can't tell) and this line has been my mantra for a long time. I just didn't realize it's significance until recently.

If you know anything about sailors, they always used the stars to direct them on their journeys. Stars showed them directions and the constellations, depending on the seasons. Stars showed them where they were and if they were headed in the right direction.

I was set on the road to being a wife and mother, but I was unhappy! I longed for more. I craved more. I needed to change my stars. I had stopped looking up to find my spot on my journey. When I finally stopped for a moment and took a glance at the sky, I realized I had lost my guiding star. So, I had to take a step back and study the stars and their alignments. It took me some time, but I trust my ship is moving in the right direction, following the northern-most star, and heading to the most fabulous destination I can imagine.

My Grown-Up Letter...

Dear Santa,
     There are people in the world who would say that I'm too old to be writing a letter to you, however, Grandma always told me I was never too old to believe. (My grandma was a smart woman :)) And I just don't give a shit about the world's opinion.
     I'm usually pretty snarky about these "Dear Santa" things. But here I am, being sincere and all. I have quite a list for you and all it comes from the deepest depths of my heart.
       I have a few things I want for myself, but first, I want to get the big stuff out of the way.
     Santa, I know most of this is big stuff and for most people it would be impossible, but I believe that if anyone can do it, you can.
     1) I want all of our soldiers to come home, safe and sound. So, I guess what I'm asking for is Peace on Earth. Our men and women in the military deserve so much more than we, as a nation, give them.
     2) I want every child of the world to know what it is to feel safe, secure, and loved. No child asks to be brought into this world and so often, we forget that.
     3) I also would like every animal to know they are loved and cherished members of the family. We tend to forget that their care, too, was given to us by their Creator.
     4) I would love to have every homeless veteran to have a home, the medical attention they deserve, and the financial help owed to them from an often ungrateful nation.
     I could be selfish and ask for so many things that only money can buy for myself, but, in all truthfulness, Santa, I've gotten older and maybe a bit wiser. I've learned Christmas isn't about stuff or things. Christmas is about love, laughter, friends and family, and joy. So for myself I ask for the following things:
     1) May my friends and family know how dearly loved they are and may the new year bring them all the happiness their hearts will allow. May they be blessed this holiday and all year through!
     2) I've worked hard this year. I've studied until I can study no more. I've typed, added, edited, divided, read, learned, and tested until my eyes and brain hurt. Please, Santa, let me get passing grades in all of my classes!
     3) The next two I will not give words to, however, I was always told that you know what's in my heart. I don't ask for perfection, Santa, but you know my sincerest desires and what lies in the cold black depths of my heart.
     I know this is short notice and some of these things are next to impossible, but it weighed on my heart and mind tonight. 
     I still believe in you, Santa, and I hope you still believe in me, too!
     With love,
     Gemma
P.S. Diesel would like to add Nudges and squeaky toys to the list.

     

The Season of Giving...

“What can I give him,

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd,

I would bring a lamb;

If I were a wise man,

I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give him—

Give my heart.” 

-Christina G. Rossetti

I come from a family of givers. I was taught to give to others from a very early age. It was seldom monetary since money was never in excess. Instead my parents gave in other ways. My dad would plow driveways for neighbors. Mom would bake or volunteer at church. It was them giving of themselves.

The above poem was read today and it touched my heart profoundly. 

I've been worried that I'm not giving enough of myself to others. Especially during this time of year. Money is still at a minimum, but so is my time these days. But I took some time to be thankful for the blessings I do have. That's when I noticed some things. 

I'm always baking or cooking. I have to eat just like everyone else. Making a plate to share with a neighbor or putting a plate of goodies together for someone who lives alone doesn't truly cost me anything. Of course, neither does the smile I share with someone as I pass by them in the store or on campus. Dropping a quick line to let someone far away know they are on my heart takes only a minute or two (and those I can spare on occasion). Picking up the tab on the cup of coffee for a fellow student costs me a minimal amount, but the spirit of giving it forward sometimes moves through an entire day.

It's not about how much money you give to certain charities. It's about being kind to your fellow man. We so often hear how money is misspent and only falls on the wallets of CEOs of charities, so why not skip the middle man when possible? Ask the elderly neighbor if there's something you can pick up for them at the store. Shovel someone's sidewalk. Share a smile. Buy someone a cup of coffee. Being kind doesn't cost you a thing. And you might be surprised at the gifts you get in return.

Today, We Play

I realized this week that I haven't taken much time to play. And by play, I mean, not focus on homework. I've been working my butt off to make sure I'm on top of it all, but I feel like I'm falling further behind. So, I did the obvious thing today...I put the homework aside and I played.

I didn't "play" like you'd think. Instead, I took some time for me! I gave myself permission to not focus on homework, school, or anything to do with that. I allowed myself to be me!

Which means I ate whatever made me happy. It wasn't about convenience or what could be made in a hurry. I just ate what I was hungry for. Then, I turned on Netflix and got lost in seasons of Parenthood. I made chili, homemade bread, and pumpkin muffins. I cleaned up things that I haven't paid much attention to lately. I painted my nails. I listened to some new music that I've discovered. I allowed myself to not sweat it!

When I gave myself permission to open my American history book, I had clearer eyes. I took my quiz and aced it! I'm not sure whether I want to tackle my arch nemesis, College Algebra, or let it lie for tonight. I'm thinking I may let it lie. A hot shower, a bowl of chili and fresh bread, a glass of apple pie wine, and a snuggle with Diesel may be how I spend the rest of my night. 

So, while I decompress from the world and all the pressure I put on myself, tell me...how to do put it all away and take care of you?

Thoughts and Ponderings...

I get very little time to simply ponder Life's great scheme. Between work and school, my thoughts are often focused elsewhere. Tonight, I got home from work and my brain was begging me to skip reading for my History or Philosophy classes. I turned on Netflix...couldn't find anything to hold my interest. I surfed the net...nothing there. So, I opened a Word doc and began to type. I got on a roll and searched Pinterest for some writing prompts.

I'm a big believer in the Butterfly Effect. If you're not familiar with the concept, it goes something like this: A butterfly flutters it's wings on one side of the Earth and that flutter causes an effect here. If you could walk a mile in my shoes, you'd understand why I believe in this. I would be a much different person if I had taken a left instead of that right at Albuquerque (yes, I reference Looney Toons). I wouldn't be the woman I am now if it hadn't been for the people I've met along my journey.

Write about the most beautiful smile you've seen: 

It lights up the darkest day. It’s slow and easy. It comes all at once. His full lips pull back, the corners of his mouth making beautiful creases. The kind of creases that make a woman’s heart flutter and her breath catch. The smile reaches his amazing bourbon colored eyes, making them dance with mischief. In one swift move, that smile can go from friendly and easygoing to predatory and sexy. It should require a conceal and carry permit for him to have a smile like that. It is more dangerous than any gun can be. This is the kind of smile that makes a woman’s silky flowered boyshorts drop at less than 20 paces.  It is charming and charismatic. It makes her heart skip a beat…or five. It reassures her that all is right in the world. It brings a smile to her face simply with a flash of those pearly whites. It also tells her just how much he desires her hands on him and how he can hardly wait to get her alone. It is the most beautiful and dangerous thing that man can give her. He never hesitates to give her a smile to carry with her throughout her entire day. “Lethal beauty” is the best way to describe the smile that brightens every corner of her world. That smile is her everything.

From what I've been told, this piece requires a tissue or two. It has been said that I need to warn you beforehand. Consider this your fair warning.

Write about a white dress:

The color of snow falling on a moonlit night, her dress sparkled in the twinkling lights. It had been specially chosen for this occasion. She had spent hours searching for the perfection that embodied this dress. She was absolutely certain of that perfection as she stepped into the silk and lace confection. It slid across her skin without snagging and fit her like a glove. The crispness of the color felt as cool to the touch as the icicles hanging from the storefront’s signage. When the sales clerk had slid it into the bag for her to carry home, a smile crossed her pink lips.

She hung it on her closet door, kicked off her shoes, and poured herself a glass of whiskey, then settled in to admire her purchase. So many thoughts danced through her head as the candlelight in her bedroom played with the sheen of the dress. She curled up in a ball at the foot of her bed, pulling her cashmere blanket around her. Tears pooled in her eyes and fell silently onto the arm she had under her head.

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful. The sunlight sparkled on the freshly fallen snow as she prepared herself for her day. Her hair and make-up must be perfect. Her body was lotioned and scented with the musky patchouli scent everyone associated with her. She decided to let her hair fall softly on her shoulders instead of putting it up like she usually did. At the last moment, she stepped into her white dress and poofed the skirt in the mirror, twirling slightly as she used to do as a child. She slipped her feet into her wedges and admired herself in the mirror. Sunlight bounced off the ring she wore on her left hand, creating a rainbow of color as she stood there. She chose a red rose from the vase of flowers that sat on her dining room table as she walked out the door.

The church was packed with people when she arrived. She checked her make-up one last time before she climbed out of her car, red rose clutched in her hand. She smiled up at the sunshine as she climbed the steps into the church. She took a deep breath and opened the massive oak doors. The foyer smelled of candle wax and furniture polish. She hung her coat on the rack outside the sanctuary. The ushers nodded to her as they opened the door. Music she had chosen specifically for this day played as she walked down the aisle. Whispers were murmured as she passed. Heads nodded. She kept her head held high as she walked on to where he waited for her.

When she reached him, she bent slightly to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I took so long, but I wanted to look perfect for you. I promised you the next time we were in a church that I’d wear a white dress. I just thought I’d be saying “I do” instead of “Goodbye.” She laid the red rose in his cold hands, wiped a tear from her eye, and took her seat. 

Please feel free to share your thoughts. My muse is teasing me and allowing my writing to become stronger...at least, I think so. 

Trusting My Gut...

I had someone I trusted implicitly once tell me I shouldn't trust my gut. He told me that my gut was always wrong. And I, like a fool, believed him. While he meant that I shouldn't trust it in certain areas, I, being the all or nothing girl I am, took it to the ultimate degree. I stopped trusting myself when it came to people, falling in love, my life choices, and my writing.

I've been back in school for a bit over a week now. Let me tell you something amazing: by trusting my own gut, I'm discovering that I'm going to be okay. My math skills aren't exactly perfect, but I'm doing better than I imagined. When the professor writes problems on the board, I know what he's talking about. I'm actually able to help others! It's incredible! For me, the biggest step was raising my hand to answer a question! Omg! I was so proud of myself! The guy sitting next to me, made me laugh when he said "Mhmm, you go girl."

Even my writing is coming back. Slowly. I've been working on little writing prompts I find. This is one I wrote a while ago:

She Wanted Me to Break It...

She wanted me to break it…her heart that is. Hell, she expected me to. From the first day I had said “hello,” the beautiful woman expected the worst. Not because of me per se, but because that is what every man before me had done…broke her heart.

One look in those hazel green eyes of hers and I was lost. I had no intention of breaking her heart, her spirit, or anything else. Instead, I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and give her a safe place to call home.

Tears came to her eyes too easily and that made me believe she was fragile and broken. I vowed to be her defender and friend. Her heart was a mess. Her life was a disaster. But there was something about her. Something that made me want to stand beside her.

For two years, I was the man standing there, holding her hand, supporting her. She told me I was the reason for her smile. That I was the reason her world would spin continuously. But I was a fool.

I left her alone when she needed me the most. I wallowed in my own self-pity instead of allowing her to reciprocate the things I had been doing for her. I withdrew into my own world and rejected the hand she offered me to keep me from becoming the recluse I had been before her.

One day, she looked at me, her eyes alight with love and joy. She told me how she had met a man. A man who loved her and treated her like the queen she was. He told her she was beautiful and sexy. And when he said these words to her, she believed him.

I looked at her as she waited for me to say something…anything. Her face shone like the moon on my darkest night. In the vicinity of the heart I claimed to not have, I felt something shatter. I always imagined she would wait for me to be that man…the one who would make her believe she was beautiful and worthy of being my partner. While I was getting my life together, she gave up on me because I hadn’t shared my true feelings for her.

She wanted me to break it…her heart. Instead, she broke mine.

Here's a second one I wrote just the other day:

And With One Look in His Eyes, She Told Herself, "This is gonna hurt when it's over."

Lost in her own world, music playing her worries away, she almost missed him. That isn’t the truth. Sure music was playing and she was lost in her own world, but she could never have missed him. He wouldn’t allow it. He strolled into that room, bigger than life, with a smile that lit up the darkness. Her anxiety was through the roof because avoiding conversations with complete strangers, even handsome ones, was ingrained in her nature.

He slowly slid into her daily routine. Enough so that she began to look for him and look forward to seeing him. He made her days easier and her nights were limited only by her imagination. Her laughter came slowly with this one. Before long, smiles replaced her anxiety and touches were less painful. Touches became a craving and her comfort with this stranger reached a plateau she never thought she’d reach. After all, men hurt women like her. She was nothing to them. She was easily tossed aside and forgotten like a childhood toy.

There was something different about this one. Something that made her trust him and trust was not an easy thing for her to give away. She felt safe and secure. His hands didn’t mean her harm. In fact, they were gentle in their caressing. His face was a complicated picture of perfection and imperfection. Handsome and beautiful, but not in a traditional sense, but honed to a kind of beauty that could only be seen with the eye of love.

Then, she took a chance one day and looked deep into his eyes. She took a breath and dove into the whiskey-colored pools with firelight flickering in their depths. They peered into her soul and she let down her guard. She forgot to breathe. In that moment, she lost her heart. And with that one look in his eyes, she told herself, “This is gonna hurt when it’s over.”

So, as you can see, my writing is making a comeback, but it is a slow going process. Tell me what you think!

A Little Something I Wrote...

School is back in session and I'm excited to see where this semester goes. Lots of homework and I'm trying to get all of the nonsense into a sensible order. However, I have been doing some writing here and there. Just little snippets to keep the muse satisfied. So, I thought I'd share this piece with you:

Photo by Gemma K. Murray

I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love…

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

I was at the lowest point of my life. My depression made it hard to breathe. Merely going through the motions, I tried to find myself. My anxiety whispered hateful things. I made myself get out of bed every day, even if it was only for the dog’s sake. I hated myself. I despised my life. I was barely alive.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

I was determined that if only… If only, I had an education. If only, I could open the car door. If only, I could climb the steps to that classroom.  If only, I could make it through this class. If only, I could find a reason. If only, I remembered to breathe.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

I was sitting in the dark classroom that September day. I had made the drive. I had opened the car door. I had made the walk to the building. I had climbed the steps to get inside. I sat down in a hard wooden chair. My anxiety was rising higher. I put in my earbuds and turned on some music. I closed my eyes.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

I felt another presence. I slowly opened my eyes. There you were. You were larger than life. Your smile lit up the darkened room. Your eyes danced. I laughed. I really truly laughed from my soul. I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. You spoke.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

I had a focus. If only, I could make it to the next class period. And the next. And the next. You touched me. Repeatedly. I remembered to breathe. My anxiety fell. My depression buried itself. I didn’t hate myself as much. I laughed with you. I smiled sincerely.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

But there you were. Time and again. We were drawn to each other. We spoke. Memories, family, childhoods, we shared them with each other. I opened my heart to let love peek out. You flung the door wide. I looked into your whiskey-colored eyes.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

You promised to hold my hand. “If I say ‘Jump,’ then we jump. Okay?” you said. I still don’t know why, but I agreed. I trusted you. I don’t trust easy. I’ve been hurt too often. One moment with you and trust flowed through me.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

You told me you missed my “beautiful smile.” I’d never been told that before. You focused on one of my biggest flaws. You saw beauty in the brokenness. You hugged me. You held on tighter. You held on longer. You didn’t notice the fat beneath your long fingers. You didn’t notice the bulges beneath your strong hands.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

I made small changes. You noticed. You flirted. I flirted back. You gave me a nickname. You shared things you read. We spoke of politics. We shared ideas. You walked with me. You put your hand in the small of my back. You waited for me. When you couldn’t, you watched for me. You made sure I was okay. You understood my need.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

You smashed the records in my head. “You’re too stupid!” “You’re too old!” “You can’t do this!” “You don’t belong here!” You broke them to bits with your soft words. “You’re not stupid,” you told me. “You are like me. You don’t understand.” You took the tears from my eyes. You brought me laughter to replace them.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

My spirits were lifted. I began to enjoy my life. Things changed for me. I wasn’t hearing the anxiety- fueled messages anymore. I didn’t flinch when you touched me. In fact, I began to crave your hands. You would share my coffee. You were outrageous. You softened my hardened edges.

I didn’t mean to fall in love…

But here I am. Head over heels. Ass over teakettle. Madly. Deeply. Passionately. Crazy about you. Balls deep. Heart wide open. Freely given. Freely accepting. Believing. Dreaming. Tears falling. Breathing. Thriving. In love with you.  

Little Things

I found this on Pinterest last night. I read it and cried. See, last week I spent a lot of time making memories. My mom came to visit. We shopped. We ate. We went to some of my favorite places. We ate. But it was the little things like sitting in a restaurant for 2-4 hours just talking. It was relating to each other, not as just mother and daughter, but as women. For the first time in my life, I feel like my mother saw me and it was that little thing that meant the most to me.

Some times the little things pass us by because we are waiting for some grand gesture from the universe. It's a dandelion held in a grubby little fist or a smile from a complete stranger or the big furry body that drools on your pillow that shows you what love truly is.

The last couple of days I've been watching someone deal with issues that are beyond their control. Unfortunately, this person is so focused on the past and the grand moments that they've been missing the little things like letters that say "I love you!" Revenge and hatred steals away so many of our daily moments, if we allow it, and makes life so bitter.

I've missed more than my share of little things. I was so busy looking around, waiting for the sky to fall, and I almost missed something special that was happening. Spontaneous hugs, contagious smiles, laughter over stupid jokes, silly stories, conversations that replay in my mind, the mere words "Take care," it was all little things that added up to something incredibly real.

Yesterday I was on my way home. I was questioning my return to school (merely because self-doubt was creeping its way back in). I was driving along and the van in front of me moved over into the left turn lane. I was sitting behind this black Hyundai. I was so lost in my thoughts and I tossed up "God, please...just a sign. It doesn't have to be big, but I need to know if I'm doing the right thing." The stop light was red for far longer than it needed to be. I sighed heavily and glanced again at the car in front of me. Their license plate had a frame around it, stating they were alumni from my university. I laughed out loud and muttered a quick "Thank you!" as the light turned green. It's the little things!

I think of the small moments that have changed my life. If I had chosen a different math class... If I hadn't looked up... If I hadn't smiled back... If I hadn't removed my earbuds... If I hadn't let him hug me... If...

I'm going to leave you with this video from one of my favorite artists, Rob Thomas. Just listen to the words and let them wash over you...don't miss the little wonders...

Returning to the Yellow Brick Road

I've been so busy the last few months. Working as much as possible, planning for my inevitable return to college, re-examining my life. I'd lost sight of a few things.

See, when my former roommate moved out, I kept everything in boxes, scared of making this place a home. I'd been residing here, but not living. I've been searching for a new place where Diesel and I can start over. However, I hadn't truly been "in" this space in a long time. I hadn't made it mine again. Instead, I was trying to find greener pastures. Sometimes finding greener pastures starts by watering and tending to your own.

Not my actual boxes!!

My mom is coming for a visit. Ashamed of how bare my house looked, I unpacked a few boxes. Then, a few more. I spruced up this space in which I reside. I opened curtains and let the sunshine in. I stepped out of my comfort zone and reclaimed this space as mine. I am finished with mourning that which was never meant to be. I've let go of so much baggage (and I don't mean physical shit).

By doing all of these things, I've found myself back on the yellow brick road. With the start of college around the corner, I'm feeling optimistic. This is the first time back on that campus since I started listening to my own heart. It is a whole new chapter! I've felt like I was going around and around in circles on this journey, looking for a lesson or sign. I've been wandering around lost and confused.

These are a bit more to my liking!!

Home isn't a place! It's the people who reside inside the four walls. My house is a home because I make it so. All who enter here should feel welcome and loved. But it all has to start with me! If I don't walk through the door to my own house and feel welcomed and loved, why should anyone else? And I can't find a new place to call home until I learned to define what home truly is! I've written so many posts about my childhood home and how the people who I called family made my home...well, home. The problem is that I forgot I was part of that equation, too. I've been trying so hard to recreate that feeling and I've lost sight of the fact that I helped make that house a home, too.

I've been told so long that my gut is wrong. Guess what? It isn't! I listened to others for far too long and let doubt cloud my reasoning!

Look! Just over the hill! Do you see it? That green glow from below? It's the Emerald City! I'm finally back on the right path!

My journey is far from over. I'm still my own worst enemy. I'm bound to take a bad turn every now and again. The Wicked Witch is still certain to send her flying monkeys after me. Glinda is still being the evasive bitch she has always been. I've still got the Tin Man, Toto, the Cowardly Lion, and Scarecrow beside me as my companions. Unfortunately, they have their own lessons to learn as we journey on and won't always be beside me. However, together? Together, we can conquer anything!

Saying Goodbye...

I'm a sappy sort so I needed to write this out. Yesterday was a difficult day for me. Way more emotion than I am used to, but I knew this day was coming. I knew this day was coming since I met this young man 2 years ago. I've known it was a definite thing for a year now.

See, yesterday I said "goodbye" to a soldier. It was the first goodbye I've ever said. Usually, I distance myself from friends who are joining the military so I don't get my heart broke or I become friends with them once they return. I've never stayed for the long haul. Unfortunately, this one is the one that is breaking me into a million little pieces.

I met this young man right around his 16th birthday. We've only gotten to be friends in the last year and a half. He has an easy way about him and the woman with social anxiety appreciates that. His quick smile lights up a room and his laughter brightens my day. He is so easy to joke with, yet isn't so silly that serious conversations aren't a possibility. We have had some great times.

I don't let people get too close, but somehow, he burrowed into my cold black heart and settled in to stay. When he joined the Army, he stated he wanted a party. He, then, asked that I stick around to do shots with him before he left. I honored his wish yesterday. It was hard for me to pour that shot of Jack for each of us because this meant it was real. And trust me, at some point, I was hoping this was all a dream.

In a very short period of time, this young man will be leaving and heading in the direction of his dream. A dream he's held since he was small. So, I ask that you keep him in your thoughts and prayers as he journeys on in this direction.

You'll never see this, Matthew, but know that you are loved and missed with every breath that is taken. Dammit, Kid, you've left big old cowboy boot prints on my heart! Take care and come home! I love you as if you're one of my own! 10 weeks, you said! It's only 10 weeks! I'm crossing off the weeks on a calendar until you come back to us, Kid :)

So for today, (and those who know me understand) I will be:

Love ya, Kid!

How Can I Say Thanks?

This isn't one of those mushy posts where I tell everyone how much I love them and thank them for making me, well, me.

You don't have to know me personally to know my struggles. Financially, emotionally, mentally...we all have them. Mine aren't any different from anyone else's. I'm not special or pretending to be. But today, I took a step in the right direction. I put a payment down to insure my future will be better than my today. That my dreams will come true. That I will be able to have it all!

I've fought this war within myself for the better part of a year. An independent woman who asks no one for anything. Who will go without simply out of pride. I've cried and rallied at the universe for the issues I've faced. For the people I've lost. Today, I learned a very valuable lesson. I'm strong. I'm determined. I can stand on my own (despite being told I would never be able to do it). I learned that sometimes I amaze myself and in the best ways.

I'm not a confident woman. If you've read some of my blog posts, you know that. But today, I'm standing a little bit taller. I've done something that makes me proud of who I am and where I am.

I didn't get to this point by taking the easy way. My mom has told me on occasion that I don't have to try and climb over the mountain. I could have just walked around it instead. She's right! The problem is that I don't always see two paths, so I take the one I see instead of blazing my own. People have left me when I thought they'd always stay. Friends have stabbed me in the back. It is to these people that I say my thank yous! Because they left or hurt me, I found my own strength. Their words were often hurtful and unfair, but you know what? They taught me the lessons I needed to learn. For that I'm eternally grateful. Had they not left my life and not looked back, I may not be sitting here today, writing about how I found my truth and strength.

I cannot depend on someone else to make my dreams come true. That is all on me! Today, I took one step closer to seeing this dream through. It may not seem like much to you, but it is a big deal in my world. I kicked off the covers, took a deep breath, and flipped off all the people who said I'd never make it without them. I've cried and fought against the changing tides, but it has gotten me nowhere. So, I went out to sea with the tides and let the waters swallow me, change me, wash me of all my doubts.

I'm taking control of my dreams and I'll be damned if anyone takes the control away from me. This is MY life and I will live it MY way. I deserve happiness. I am worthy. I'm on my way!

What Do You See?

The other day I found a video on Facebook. They took Polaroids of women and asked the women what they saw. There were 63 women used on this project. I watched the video with tears in my eyes. So much beauty and strength was there, yet they sometimes missed it.

I'm on a college campus most days. While I realize that I'm not 18, I compare myself to the girls on campus. I'm not as skinny as that one. I'm not as pretty as another. My skin is flawed and not as fresh as a younger woman's. I'm heavier than most. I dress for comfort instead of style.

But I'm working on my self-image. I'm trying to be more positive about my appearance. For example: I love my hair! I work hard to make sure the color in my hair looks good. And my eyes...I love the color and shape of my eyes. Even in glasses, my eyes are my best feature.

So...I decided that maybe it was time I took a selfie and posted it for the world to see. I'm going to tell you what I see when I look at these pictures. I'm going to try to remain positive, but no promises there.

Ready? Okay, here we go:

Oh gods, this is harder than I thought it would be! *tears*

I see my dad's bone structure in my cheeks. I see my mom's complexion and her eyes. I see my grandmother's mouth. I see pain. I see strength. I see doubt. I see a woman who needs to learn to believe in herself and her abilities. I love her hair! I see someone who knows how to love everyone except herself. I see the introvert, the bookworm, the one who wants to blend in, the one who hopes everyone overlooks her. I see someone who has lost so much and is scared to death. I see the little girl who is scared of screwing up and is petrified to take a chance. I see the woman who has known what it is to be hurt at the hands of someone she trusted...enough so that she is scared to let people touch her...someone who flinches without realizing she's doing it. I see someone who thinks she is more overweight than she really is. I see a daughter. I see a friend. I see a small-town girl. I see someone with a very big heart that has been broken more times than she cares to admit. I see a farmer's daughter with a rebel streak a half mile wide.

I've been told that I have a beautiful smile. I just don't smile in photos because I'm very self-conscious of my teeth. For years, I've been told to "hide your smile" or "smile with your mouth closed". By not smiling, it doesn't mean that I'm not happy. I'm just...me. Mr. Charismatic Smile walked into class one day after having missed a class and said, "There's that beautiful smile. I missed it." He just about brought me to my knees with that comment. That one comment made my day so much brighter and I still smile when I remember that first day. However, old habits die hard.

So, there you go: Gemma finally shows you who she is physically. You all know me on a different level, but now, you see what I see.

I just want us to be more aware of ourselves, our bodies, and our view of those things. We shape our own views. Don't let anyone make you feel like you are less than you are! Because you are the best version of you...no one can tell you different!