Learning to Harmonize and Renew

 

During the pandemic, I took a leadership class. The class was about more than leadership. It was about being able to pivot in hard times and adjust to be your best self. They taught us the art of the brain dump, which I still sometimes use when I am trying to figure something out.

That time was today. It has been a long time since I sat to write, more than a year in fact. When I last sat to write. At that time, I was writing all of my goals for 2023. I didn’t have many big goals for 2022, because I figured that a graduation, and job change and move were plenty for one year. For 2023 I wanted to go BIG. So, I made big goals.

I am here to tell you; I failed every single goal. I didn’t do a half marathon. I didn’t crotchet a blanket. I didn’t practice my Spanish frequently. And I’ve struggled at work a lot. The goals were too big, too broad, with no “why” and no “how.”

Before I think about 2024 goals, I have to think about where 2023 went wrong. That’s where the brain dump exercise comes in.

I ended 2022 with Eric, and some good friends, watching the fireworks over Alexandria. But two days later, I kicked off the new year with covid. It finally caught up with me after three years. I took my time to recover, and tried to give myself grace. Weeks later it was a challenge to get back into regular workouts and keep my breathing in check.

Winter came and went quickly. Eric went back on the road around February, after being home for a few months. It was hard to get into a routine while trying to figure out in office days that weren’t consistent. I started a new role, with new things to learn.

And did I mention, peri-menopause- that thing that no one ever talks about? Whether women don’t talk about this out of shame, or embarrassment.  This is something that we definitely need to start discussing with our groups of friends. Not just the hot flashes, but the late and early and missed periods. The brain fog and forgetfulness, the increased anxiety, and waking up at 3 am. Most importantly, how we can advocate for ourselves with our doctor, and some treatments they may be able to offer.

All of those things happened, and I lost focus. The goals were too big, and not specific enough, and I forgot my “why” in some cases.

But I think there’s more.

At the end of my brainstorming exercise today, I was sitting on the floor crying.  All of those things that happened are true and played a part. There is a bigger piece though. I let myself get complacent.

I’ve spent my whole life, thinking that if I performed well, if I am good enough, funny enough, smart enough, I would finally deserve to be loved. When you’re constantly reaching, and striving, and trying to be perfect enough for someone, and then you have someone who seems to love you no matter what—maybe It’s a challenge. Maybe there’s a little “well prove it. Prove that you love me even if I’m not perfect.”

I’ve spent years and a ton of money in therapy, trying to be an emotionally healthy person. Sometimes it’s a hard reminder that life is two steps forward, and three steps back. I need to learn to reconcile the ambitious, and goal oriented self- with the emotionally healthy person who knows she doesn’t need to reach perfection to be worthy of love. Maybe, those two parts need to learn to live in harmony.

 

Maybe that’s another therapy bill.

I also had some things go right this year. I had so many adventures, both with Eric and without. I have traveled, and seen new places. I've learned a lot about ADHD this year, and systems to help. 

Now that I’ve evaluated 2023, it’s time to start getting ready for 2024, and to remember: specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, time bound.

1.       I want to be more consistent with working out. This means working out for one hour, five days a week, before working in the morning. (I’ve been consistent the last month and that helps). I have more focus and less anxiety when I work out. Stay consistent.

2.       I need to go back to doing Duolingo regularly. I need to also find a speaking group to practice at least biweekly. I want to speak well and understand. I want to be able to communicate with my family, and be able to travel with ease.

3.       I need to improve at work. This means I need to take at least one professional development class to strengthen my skills.

4.       I need to recognize that I am worthy of love—without meeting my goals, but that my goals are for me to improve myself and be the best version of myself.

5.       I like crocheting because it makes me feel close to my granny. I will sit down once a month to crotchet. – and we will see if it becomes a blanket.

6.       Have more adventure. See more places. Go somewhere I’ve never been!

7.       BREATH

 

 

 

The Long and topsy-turvy reflections of 2020.

 This year..well that's loaded. As I'm writing this, we are currently waiting for results of a contentious election. More about that later. 

For now, let's just collectively take a deep breath before we reflect. 

Okay, now, let's start. 

I started 2020 wildly different. As I donned my pink, feather skirt; curled my hair, did my makeup, I had such high hopes. At midnight, at the Great Gatsby party at The Jones Mansion, my boyfriend kissed me and shortly after we decided my tipsy self needed to go home. 

I was content. I was ready to take on the year. I had accomplished every 2019 goal, and then some. I had started Graduate School, made a new friend, published my book, hit my goal weight. I was on top of everything. My 5K run time was perfect for me. 

I had plans for 2020. I was going to conquer 2020 too. My goals were to compete in my first Savage Race, finish a half-marathon, go to Cuba. I had one author event per month planned out. My goal to sell at least 100 books, book sales mean the story is being told. If we made it to a year, the "move in together" talk was supposed to happen. (Look, in fairness, I know you're not supposed to set deadlines in relationships, but time management, and all that.) 

The year started off on the right note. I had book events planned, one per month. I was training hard, sometimes almost two hours a day. I went to Spain, saw my family again, walked miles and miles, saw wonderful landmarks. Then, on March 11th, we came back to the United States, with Covid spreading, and on my birthday, March 13th the state shut down. 

Alas, 2020. My Savage Race was cancelled, but it became a 14 day "anywhere challenge." My half marathon, went virtual. Cuba clearly didn't happen, and as of today, I'm sitting at 89 books sold, and haven't done a book event since my virtual one in April. Oh, and that relationship ended too. 

But, even in my disappointments, there are lessons. There are things I've learned about myself this year. There are things I've learned about other people. There are things I've learned about the need for community and education. 

When the state shut down, I spent two weeks isolated, making dark jokes about the situation. I really hadn't taken it seriously, even though I was sick. (Testing was not available, I was jetlagged, there had been a weather change, and I always get sick at that time of year, so no. I don't know.) After my two weeks isolated, I went to Fort Wayne to spend two weeks. Everything was so uncertain. I was scared, and trying to rationalize everything. I was doing anxiety cleaning. Probably, none of that was good for a relationship- especially on top of issues we had pushed aside in Spain. 

I won't walk you minute by minute through the things that happened. But as I settled into the idea that it could be a long spring, I went to Vermont (socially distanced, and just as isolated as I am at home.) I worked there for a week. It was supposed to be two, but alas, I had things to deal with at home. 

Unbeknownst to me, while I was making that long trek back from Vermont to Ohio, 2020 was about to change even more dramatically with the death of a man named George Floyd. 

I wont go into that here. If you know me, if you've read my blog, you know my stance. This is about reflection, goals and growth. 

That relationship lasted about another two weeks. I wasn't sure. Did 2020 just have me beat?

But no. It didn't not really. See, I had taken advantage of this time to work from home. To go on an adventure where I was only around one person, and nature. I had ideas for new projects. I was still doing well in school (look, even after quantitative data my 4.0 remains unbroken). I was taking new leadership classes through work,  and sharing my learning with every new idea they presented. 

I mulled for a few weeks. I attended some protests. I interviewed protesters. I took pictures. I got insight. I read. Oh the books I've read this year. 

The Savage Anywhere Race that got cancelled? It turned into a virtual "Anywhere Challenge." In some ways, it was more challenging mentally. I didnt have a crowd or a team to cheer me on to the finish, or to help pull me up. I had to get up alone, on my own to do it. There was no one forcing me, no one helping me. I could have pushed my registration fee to next year, but I didn't. I completed it. It wasn't perfect, but it was my  accomplishment. 

The half marathon that went virtual? I ended up reconnecting with an old friend I hadn't seen in years, who was also going through some life transitions. One of my BFFs was there. At the end, when I was tired, and wanted to give up, those ladies pushed me. I cried at the end. 

So, I didn't sell 100 books, or have a book even every month. I managed to hit 89, and there is still one virtual book fair left this year. In fact, the one I started with last year at the Findlay-Hancock Library. I didn't write for fame or fortune. I write stories that I believe deserve to be told. Writing will always be my first love .

Cuba? The trip is still paid for, and when the world reopens, I will be right there to dance, to see Hemingway's Cuba home, to eat. I will be right there to listen to the stories of the Cuban people, and maybe by then my Spanish will be better. (Look, it's a work in progress. I practice every day.)

The relationship? Honestly, I'm not angry. We just weren't a good fit. I'm a bit of a wild butterfly. I need to be free to be flighty, to run off on adventures, to have days buried in my writing, where I don't talk to anyone. And if we're being honest, there is someone in my life, but I'm not ready to talk about who, so I'll talk about what. 

We have interesting conversations, about everything- God and religion, vulnerability, leadership, community. He thinks I'm really smart and I laugh at that. I'm just well-read and well-experienced. On the other hand, he did something no one I've ever dated was able to do. He planned an entire trip. He took the entire thing out of my hands, and planned every detail. (Hocking Hills for a weekend). He did it because he didn't want me to be sad about Labor Day weekend, and saw how hard I had been working. The trip went....smooth. Color my control freaked self shocked. He says things like "I know you need time alone." (I'm alone writing this.) He says things like "I understand if you want to go away for a week." He learned how to cook Keto, and I didn't know that he had downloaded Duolingo to start learning Spanish. OH and he bought me a political book! In return for all of this, I have to let him teach me to fish. 

We're working on the trust thing. We're working on that vulnerability thing. He isn't rushing me though. He knows that I think about leaving this area. That I say Findlay isn't my forever home. He accepts that. He says he doesn't want to clip my wings. I joke all the time that maybe it's a pandemic fling. Maybe it is, but as a friend recently pointed out, "Is he caring for you? Is he making you happy right now? Maybe that's a lesson there. Relationships don't need to be goaled out with timelines on them. 

I worked as an election worker for the first time this year. I had been on the other side before, as a journalist. I think that working an election and learning about our democracy is something every person should do once in their life. I think every person should have the experience, so they understand. 

I will be volunteering for a different organization this year, helping with their communications. Ranked Choice Voting is the wave of the future, and something I believe in. I plan to put my actions where my mouth is. 

I've always actively volunteered. (I know. You guys don't knw that because I don't talk about it. I don't talk about it because to me it's deeply private. I volunteer when I have time, for things I believe in. I keep it private except for a few people because, I think it should be about the experience. I hope that makes sense.)

One of the lessons I am taking from 2020 is that we are always so busy that sometimes we forget to reflect. We forget to reflect on our actions, how we can improve. We forget to reflect on our communities, and how we can make them better. We forget to reflect on our we can make an impact in someone's life, or what new things we can learn. 2020 is a reset button for a lot of us. It showed many of us cracks that we didn't realize were there. 

Slow down. I know no one wants to hear that. The rushing we've been doing, it isn't normal. It isn't healthy. We don't have to fill every minute of our day with work, or people. We need time with our families. We need time to ourselves. 

So, when I sat here last night with no idea what to type as I looked at my yearly goals, all I could do was laugh. A year seemed too big, too overwhelming. Look at how everything has changed this year. Honestly, Covid won't be done this year, and who knows when it will be. So we have to be ready to adapt, sometimes with short notice. 

In leadership class today, they were discussing looking at the 300 meter, vs the 10 meter. The 300 meter is long. Yes, the 10 meter isn't long term. It's a shorter distance, a shorter sprint (I'm also learning about Agile in class this week, so this is beautiful). It dawned on me that I don't need to make yearly goals right now. I need to be able to "OODA." Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. 

I can however; make some "10 meter" goals. For 2020, that translates to three months. 

I will finish my current Agile class with my 4.0 intact. I will help create a communications plan for Rank the Vote Ohio. I will start working with a mentor to help me understand the career path I am prepared to take, and how to get there. I will read one educational, and one fun book a week. I will pass that education on to people when I can. I will continue to try to connect community members with other people who may need to learn a skill, or have a shared interest. I will work out at least four days a week, although- the last two weeks, I am proud to say I'm back up to five. I will relax, and see where this thing goes. 

I won't plan any big trips for now. I won't plan any big goals for now. It's not the time.

 

Ask yourself

Why didn't she tell? I keep hearing, while my own past echoes in my head.

I was 9, the first time he touched me where I was beginning to bud into my youth. "You're getting to be such an adult," he said. "You're so grown, I can't help myself."

I cried, not understanding fully why I felt shame, but feeling dirty somehow. Maybe if I didn't grow anymore, I would never be touched like that again. But it didnt' stop. I got taken to the doctor for severe headaches, and dehydration. The doctor asked "Why is a 9 year old getting stress headaches." No one had an answer.

I was 11, when I sat on the swing in the backyard, and he sat down on the swing next to me. "If you tell, I'll kill you. Here's $20 to get yourself some candy." Would you have told?

I was 12, the first time a boy in my class snapped my bra, and when I complained to my male teacher, I was told "Boys will be boys, ignore him." I ignored him alright, bloodying his nose in front of the whole class. "Girls will be girls too."

I was 13, and thought I was brave, when I finally told people, begging for someone to help, someone to save me. That was also the year I couldn't walk to the bus stop by myself, and would sometimes see his car, just far enough out of the way.

I was 14, when a prosecutor told me that since I was a teenager who was pregnant, I wouldn't look good on the witness stand. Because I didn't fit the perfect squeaky clean image that people want to have of a victim. I wasn't demure enough. I held my chin out in defiance too much. But because of that, he walked.

I was 15 and asleep in my bed, when my neighbor used his spare key to come into my room and force me. Even while I screamed and raked my fingernails down his face to fight him. I was 115 pounds. When I tried to tell, I heard "You flirt with him a lot, are you sure you didnt want it."

I was 15 when my mom's boyfriend decided to grab me, every time he was around. What was the point of telling?

I was 17 when my friend's dad walked up behind me and rubbed himself against me while I did dishes. But what's the point of telling when no one hears you? I cried that day too. Would this be like this my entire life?

 I was 19, and 150 pounds when my husband told me I was fat, and gross. I guess that seems comparably minimal. 

I was in my 20s, and again in my 30s, when coworkers grabbed me, rubbed against me, pulled my hair, and when I screamed to stop it, don't TOUCH ME, "You're a bitch." The guys all chuckled when those men said that. I mean, they liked me,  but no one wants to speak out against the guys.

I was 30, when I was told I was damaged goods. Because any girl that has been raped isn't worth saving.

I was 35 when I bought a gun. I bought a gun because I was boxing a heavybag, in my own yard, on my own porch, and two men across the way started screaming slurs that I could hear through my headphones. "Yeah baby, that's sexy. Hit it just like that. Tough girls are always the most fun." Maybe they didnt mean it. Maybe they were joking. I've had enough experience to not want to test that theory.

I was 37, when I sat at a bar quietly playing a word game, and an off duty deputy decided to talk to me, while he drank, and kept touching my inner thigh. I moved his hand, at least three times, and pleaded to STOP TOUCHING ME. It wasn't until a friend of mine, who's a veteran stepped in, and handled the situation that it stopped.

I was 40 when I was told to smile, dress up, be pretty, don't be a bitch or a cockblock, by the males around as I stuck to my friend to keep the guys buying her alcohol from taking her home. You can't get her to talk to you when she's sober, but I'm the bitch and the cockblock? According to those men I was jealous. No dear, I know women deserve better than jerks like you, and I'll protect my friends always.

I was 41 when I took a self-defense refresher, and as my instructor pinned me to the ground, grabbing my neck,  and I fought like hell, he told me "You're more aggressive than most women." I had a few days of anxiety and flashbacks from that.

I was 42, when my neighbor gave me a switch blade, and my best friend gave me a rape whistle to run with. Both knowing I can take care of myself, yet both knowing that there are monsters out there.

I was yesterday years old when one of those guys, who called me a cockblock two years ago,  messaged me on Facebook, after seeing I had a recent breakup and saying "So, do you need some lovin? No, because you're gross. No because you're hateful, No, because you represent every disgusting man that hasn't been able to raise himself up without putting someone down. Instead of saying those things though, I quietly blocked him.

Why? why don't women tell? Why don't we report our harassers, our rapists? The courts and evidence will stand with us, right? The world will stand with us right? Instead of asking why, why we dont report it, instead of asking, what we were wearing, ask YOURSELF WHY ARENT YOU LISTENING. WHY DONT YOU BELIEVE US.

Ask yourself that.

While My Heart Breaks

I know, I know. Two posts, so close to each other. What could possibly be happening?

I've had a week. I feel like that is an understatement. I am exhausted, heartbroken, exhilarated and hopeful all at the same time. I'm still trying to process.

Last week, when I came here, I felt like my heart was being wrenched out of my chest, every time I turned into everything going on, I froze and cried. But I kept having this feeling, this feeling that I was sitting on the sidelines of history. This feeling that is there, that good overcomes.

These last few months of the pandemic, I have been taking classes regularly, and one of those classes is "Living an Authentic Life." Authenticity seems to be a theme for me this year. The word is everywhere. "Be true to yourself, and what makes you happy."

Maybe this journey, I have to take alone. See, how is this for crazy:

This week, I decided to tell a story. "Why We March: The Story of the Ohio Protest Movement." I never realized that from my first post, it would take off, with a spirit of its own. I want to tell the story of Ohioans, who are we. I think this will be important to future generations to understand. I'm going to do the only thing I know how to do in these situations, record and write.

But, why must I take this journey alone you say?

See, as I write this, I'm actually crying. I have always vowed that here, in my writing space, I will tell the truth when I won't say it to my friends, or family, when I hide my tears and hurt. So here goes.

I'm hurting because Frank and I broke up yesterday(for the record, I am the dumpee, and I'm okay with acknowledging that) . After a record breaking almost 11 months. I would love to say it was one big thing, but it really wasn't. It was a few tiny things, that added up and built upon each other.
Words that weren't heard, cues that went unacknowledged.  And finally, even politics and religious differences.

And it hurts. I opened myself up, and for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to be vulnerable. I showed someone my pains, and my trauma, but also my enthusiasm, the things that give me a spring in my step, and make me want to race to the next destination. I shared my dreams, and bucketlists. My fantasies, and my laughter.

No matter what happens from here, I finally allowed myself that. Because I allowed myself that, I will walk away with my head held high, knowing that I finally put myself out there.

See, Brene Brown says that vulnerability is brave. I have no idea if what I did was bravery. It doesn't' feel like it right now. Brene  also says that authenticity is the "daily practice of letting go of who we think we're supposed to be, and embracing who we are."

This is who I am. While my heart breaks, I will throw myself into passionately telling the stories of Ohioans, angry and heartbroken Ohioans who are ready for change, and ready to leave our children a better world.

And I will try to keep faith that someday, if I let someone in, someone will truly accept the complicated beauty that is me, and will accept that with my passion, also comes empathy for a greater world.

Changes

I havent come here in awhile. It’s not that I forget, it’s that I get busy trying to live, until I don’t. I forget that writing is where I heal.

My heart hurts. If you’ve never something that allows you to understand this expression, that gives me a small joy. When I say “my heart hurts” it physically feels as if there is a weight on my chest, pressing, making it hard to breathe. The oxygen is sucked from your system, as you gasp for air, trying for two seconds to find joy, peace, hope.

If you’re reading this in the future, today is May 29, 2020. You will read about this year in your history books, once the anthropologist shift through the overwhelming log of data, once the psychologists study the effects, once the scientists find cures, and once the world finds peace, once the writers write, and the artists create.

You will reach about the worldwide pandemic of this year, and global economic devastation. You will read about how some governments went to testing, and safety measures. You will read about how the year started with “Great Gatsby” parties and celebrations, and about how soon Australia was on fire. Now, we play apocalypse bingo games because dark humor helps us survive. I’m sure psychologists will have some studies for you to read on that.

You will also read about the protests and riots. I hope that if you’re reading this in the future, you can say, “What is racism” and you can say “Wow, I cant believe it was like that”. I hope that when you read it in the future, the idea is as insane an appalling to you- as sacrificing humans to appease volcanoes is to us.

But for today, I want you to feel the physical pain when I say “my heart hurts.” See, when I said earlier that its “hard to breath” – this week a man was murdered by police officers, while it was being recorded, as he said “I can’t breathe.”  The officers, were fired, but only after the public started protesting, and when they weren’t charged with murder, protests quickly became anger and riots.

He wasn’t just a man, he was a black man. I hope that’s not relevant to you, but it is to this moment in time.

You will have read about the civil rights movements, and MLK an Malcolm X. See, a lot of people think that racism just went away after that, but it didn’t. So here we are, 52 years later, barely a generation later. Still shouting about injustice.

And people say it doesn’t’ still happen. I could sit here an throw out names upon names. I could chant “hands up” “I cant breath” over an over, but if you’re reading this in the future, you know those names. You want to know why and what it feels like in this moment. What led us to this?

Years and years of systematic injustice, inadequate education, poverty, and poor access to good nutrition and medical care? Oh, and years an years of saying “we can’t talk about that.” All of those things lead to one thing.

The truth is, hurt. Hurt is what led us to this. See, through the last few years, there were peaceful protests…but people didn’t like the way things were being protested. There was a big ugly debate over whether people should kneel during the National Anthem. And then, came 2020.

See, when the pandemic started, other countries started locking down, calling out safety measures, an social distancing, shutting down cities, and coming to a standstill, so that the Covid-19 wouldn’t spread. Here, in the United States, somehow it got turned into a political game. I won’t go into that, because I’m sure you have a whole other chapter in your history book that covers that disaster.

But, here’s where it’s important. People started protesting the lockdown measures as states started. The protesters showed up armed, but police officers didn’t even bother with riot gear. Now fast forward, states have barely started to open back up. In the course of well, a couple of months;  George Floyd was killed, police busted into the home of Breonna Taylor, which turned out to be the wrong house by the way, anyway, she was killed, by the way, the suspect that the police were looking for when they killed Breonna, was already in custody. Ahmed Aubrey, a young black man was running, out for a jog, and was gunned down. There’s video of that too. There’s also video of a Caucasian woman calling the police on a non-threatening black man, and telling 911 that her life was being threatened.

When police showed up at the protests that started happening over the murders, they turned up in riot gear, for protestors that didn’t have weapons.

So last night, when I stayed up watching the protests turn violent live, I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw a Columbus Police officer punch a man who was screaming at him from behind a barricade. I saw protestors throw water, and water bottles, and police respond with tear gas. I cried as I saw the beautiful statehouse getting windows broken out, and the original glass of the Ohio Theatre busted.

I cried for my hurt brothers and sisters. My hurt cousins. I cried, because I know the stories of my family.  I cried for our world. I cried for my home city. I cried because I know that someone in history has to be the soul that bears witness. I cried because I didn’t like what I was seeing, but I felt the rage.

When Billie Holiday sang “Strange Fruit” in 1959, she was crying for change. When Marvin Gaye sang “What’s Going On” in in 1971; When Tupac rapped “Changes” in 1998; When Michael Jackson sang “They don’t really care about us” in1997 (I think that’s the year)  there was a common theme, a common thread. It was begging. “Please see and hear our message. Give us equal opportunity in the country we helped build. Stop being scared and stereotyping us because of the color of our skin.”

Because even in the future, I don’t think human nature will have change, you will have probably been hurt by someone you love. Sometimes, hurt turns to anger. That’s what’s happening here.

Some people blame the current president, an some blame social media, an the mainstream media. But really, those things aren’t the issue. This problem has been here a long long long time. The current president just enabled people who already felt that way to feel good and united that they felt these things were okay. It made them feel okay, like they didn’t have to hide.  Social media and the media forced the issue out to the forefront where it doesn’t get to hide in the shadows anymore.  

I guess you could say, it’s a shit show, and me, my heart will continue to hurt, but like any other muscle it will grow stronger, and I will keep bearing witness.

The whirlwind reflections of 2019

Here we are again, in mid-November. This year has flown by, and been filled with so many good things, and lessons that I've learned. New people have entered my life, and I've been able to reunite with old friends. It's been a whirlwind of new experiences, letting go of the fear of the unknown, and finding myself.

Although I approach each new year with a list of reflection on lessons learned in the past year, I also set goals that I hope to accomplish in the upcoming year. I have found over the last decade that it's a good time to take stock of where I'm at, and where I'd like to be.

I've had goals that have been deeply personal, goals that have involved soul searching, sacrifice, and hard work.

This year, I managed to accomplish all of the goals I set down. I think that's a first for me. It's the first time that I knew halfway through the year the things I set out to do were attainable. It's the first year I had enough faith in myself.

This road hasn't been easy. I started the year with silly things like "I want to lose ten pounds and have dancer abs by next year." I'm here to tell you I lost 15 and do have dancer abs. I wanted to run my first 5k in 2019. I ran two, and ended up walking a third one (Okay, I walk/sprinted two of them, but it was still an accomplishment at 41). I wanted to learn conversational Spanish, so that I could communicate with my family. (I'm not brilliant, but I can make myself understood and translate while someone is talking to me.) I wanted to read 30 books, and I'm sure that it comes as no surprise to anyone that I surpassed that goal early. Every year I have a goal to have adventures, and go someplace I've never been. I'll say that I think meeting my family in Barcelona qualified for that.

The biggest goal I had for 2019 was to publish my book, and have my first author signing. My head is still spinning that not only have I done that, but I have author events set for next year already!

In the early moments of the year, I started listening to a podcast called "Having it All" by Matthew Bivens. He suggested setting a word of the year, and my word was "evolving." I have been evolving to become the woman I have always known deep down that I could be, I just didn't always know how to connect with her. Sometimes fear has held me back.

One of the goals for this year that I'm still struggling with, is to stop waiting for the shoe to drop when everything is going well. Sometimes we just have to let things go well. I can't enjoy everything I'm creating if I'm too busy bracing myself for the next bad thing.

I've learned this year that I will have ebbs and tides. My family lost our matriarch this year, the woman that helped raise each of us, and taught us right from wrong. The flip side of that is that I gained a whole family in Spain. I get to write letters to them, and voice message with them. I get to learn my grandmother's history. I lost, someone, but I gained someone.

I made a promise that for 2019 I would allow myself to have real downtime, days of rest where I don't do anything. That's a goal that is continuing in 2020, as a more specific "one day a month I get a day to do nothing but read."

One of the biggest changes in my life this year is one that surprised me. I have a record breaking relationship right now, of four and a half months. He tends to have a calming effect on me, and be a positive influence. A good example of that is last night (sometime in the middle of the year I decided to start grad school- more about that shortly). I had homework, and was so frustrated with it. He let me vent (and yes my venting was loud). Afterwards, I apologized, because I felt like he came out to see me this weekend, and ended up spending hours beside me while I focused completely on research papers. "Not every day is going to be a trip, or a big adventure. There are going to be days like this, where your focus is on other things. It's okay. I'm okay with that, and I"m proud of you."

He seems to balance out my intensity. Maybe I'll keep him around awhile longer.

I guess if I had to sum up what 2019 taught me, it was to take chances, but keep working hard!  I've had to take the chance to allow myself some vulnerability with him. I had to take the chance and publish my book. That's not to say my life is perfect. If it was, why would I need goals. Why would I need reflections. Take the chance to get into grad school.

Okay, so about grad school. About halfway through the year I realized that I was going to hit all of my 2019 goals. I've been wondering about going back to school for a couple years, and wasn't sure. it seemed like the right time to lead myself down that path.

I've been struggling with what my word for 2020 is. I think my word is "building". I want to keep building on what I've started growing.

In 2020, I want to run my first OCR. For those that aren't sure, it's my first obstacle course race. I've improved my running abilities this year, and now want to build upon what I started. I want to sell 100 books. Is that a plausible number? I have no idea, but I have a good marketing plan in place, and supportive people behind me. I want to pull everything out of my grad classes that I can learn. One day a month, I will allow myself a day to rest, and reset. In 2020, I want to keep building on my relationship, and keep allowing myself to show both strength and vulnerability. It took me a long time to realize those two things are part of the same coin.

In 2020, I will take a girl's trip, and I have will plenty of adventures. I'm even willing to see another castle or three.  After all, isn't figuring our way out through life a grand adventure?

'Til I see you again

It's been awhile since I've written here. I've been busy with adventuring, grad school, my volunteer activities and the new boyfriend. I guess you could say I've been busy living my life. Only today, I needed to come here. I needed to write.

I'm not here to talk about any of those, although - there will be some upcoming posts. I swear.

As most of you know, my newest adventure has started. I'm officially a published author. My book "Spoons and Needles - The story of how addiction impacts  a family," has finally been released. It's started a roller coaster of emotions.

See, I didn't get here without loss. Many of you know my story. You know how much was lost to me, and what I went through. Writing was an is the only way I know how to heal. It's the only outlet I had.

Let's talk about my book first. "Spoons and Needles" is a fictional book, based on real emotions. It is told from the perspective of an addict who overdoses, an addict in recovery, the daughter of an addict, the father of an addict, and the mother of an addict. It follows their emotions, from anger, disbelief, blaming themselves. These are all real, true emotions that the loved ones of addicts face. It's painful.


It's painful to look at yourself in the mirror and say "Why didn't I know?" It's painful to wonder "What could I have done more?" and the biggest hurt is always "Why didn't they love me enough to not do that?"

My novel reads like a young adult novel. I'm okay with that. I wrote it because that's how I felt those emotions. I felt alone in my hurt. I felt like no one else would understand. I was angry at them, I was angry at myself, and I was angry at God.

I reached out to addicts, and police officers. I talked to parents of addicts. I read everything I could find on addiction and recovery. I read studies. I found out I wasn't alone. In fact, 13,000 children are currently in foster care in the state of Ohio because their parents are addicts. Ohio has the second  highest rate of deaths in the nation due to overdoses. In 2017, 4,293 overdoses were reported.

So let me tell you. I don't feel brave. I did what I know how to do, and put my emotions onto paper. All day today, I have heard two things; Gina's laughter, and Dane saying "You got this, sis." and both things have hurt.

Hearing those things have hurt, even though I know they would be proud of me. I would take back all the pride if I could hear those things, those real voices just one more time.

So here I am, a published author, with her first author signing at the Findlay Library on November 9th.

This novel is bittersweet. I know I'll have a couple angels touching my shoulder that day.