Thursday, December 4, 2014
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: What I should talk about.
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: What I should talk about.: I sit here with a heavy heart. I keep trying to keep my pain private or controlled to only a few friends who know and love me. Friends and f...
What I should talk about.
I sit here with a heavy heart. I keep trying to keep my pain private or controlled to only a few friends who know and love me. Friends and family keep asking if I'm handling it okay, and I keep saying I'm getting by.
I lost a friend this week, a friend that had been a sidekick for more than a decade. From the day we met, I was the ornery one. She was the one with the good head on her shoulders.
There are so many things that make her death hard to take and hard to handle.
Several months ago, this friend and I, we had a falling out. It's not important now what over. I had always planned to heal the rift between us. I always thought there would be time to. Now there isn't time to say "hey we were both assholes in that moment." There isn't time to tell her again that I love her, hug her or hear her laughter.
There isn't time to run away to Vegas for a weekend like we said we would. Even though, she swore if we ran away even for a weekend she was attaching a GPS to me because of my habit of wondering off to talk to people and people watch. (I asked her once how she was going to attach it if I decided to go streaking down the strip)
I keep rereading our last messages to each other a couple months ago, a message in which she told me she's proud of me and so happy for chasing my dreams and that it was okay that we were on different paths now. I always thought our paths would eventually converge again.
So as I sit here, I'm covered up with the afghan she crocheted me two years ago for Christmas, the year that I made all of my friends homemade ornaments with their names on them. (For friends and family reading this, I want that ornament).
I'm trying not to be incredibly angry, incredibly sad, incredibly heartbroken over a life gone way too soon. Over a light extinguished before her time.
After I write this blog, I have to write my yearly reflections. (Bare with me, it involves this) Several years ago I started doing this. When I started, this friend and I, the friend I'm grieving over, talked about what a good idea it was to be able to see how far you had come and what goals had been accomplished from year to year.
That conversation started her writing a journal. I wonder if anyone has found that journal yet.
I guess now I should talk about my job, about the story I wrote for National Adoption Month and how cool it was. I should talk about the same-sex couple that gave four kids a family by adopting them and is in the process of adopting a fifth.
I should talk about schedules and how the last couple of years has just been preparing me for the craziness that is now my job.
I should talk about jokingly telling the county EMA director I was sick of looking at his face one week, after seeing him five times in two days, particularly after he volunteered me to go up with them on the scaffolding at the courthouse once it's placed.
I should talk about open mic nights, covering museum events and trying not to feel incredibly stupid when I talk to the commissioners and have to ask ten billion questions to understand things sometimes.
I should talk about how sad I was when I found out that the 19 year old terminal boy who kissed my hand when I walked away, the one I wrote a story on last month succumbed to his illness. I should mention there are perks to this job, and some cool things, but some things still kick you in the feels.
http://www.dailychiefunion.com/featured/man-receives-diplomas-in-special-graduation-ceremony-at-angeline/
I should say here that some of the stories I cover become more than stories, they teach me life lessons and help me see the beauty in the world.
I should talk about going with friends to see Mockingjay and having one of my best friends, tell me she's thinking about moving away. (Don't think I'm not gonna stalk you woman).
I should talk about my crazy uncle (yeah the one that was sick this summer) rearranging my bedroom at his house to give me a bigger bed, a pillow mattress and memory foam pillows and jokingly telling my brother I'm not going to be surprised the day I walk into that room and my uncle has a full wardrobe for me.
I should talk about the special Thanksgiving dinner with my niece, me and a friend of ours that didn't have anyplace to go for Thanksgiving. I should talk about them teaching me to play Kings and other drinking games because I never lived my twenties.
I should talk about my youngest son turning 17 next week and how I wonder what I am going to do after my kids all graduate.
I should talk about how I never realized how sensitive my children are to me, until my middle son hugged me and told me he loves me after I found out about my friend.
I should talk about the date I have this weekend and how I'm glad he doesn't think I'm crazy this week even though I keep telling him I feel like a bi-polar person on a runaway train. (yeah certain crazy friend if you're reading this I know I'm always like that).
I should talk about how I've made a friend at the office, thank god, someone I can talk to and don't have to be a professional adult when I'm talking to her. Finally, someone to have lunch with.
I should talk about freezing trying to take pictures of Christmas tree farms and the event I'll be covering tomorrow night.
I should talk about watching OSU kick Michigan's butt last week with my brother and how cool it is that me and my brother finally talked about a lot of things. I should say how incredibly glad I am we've gotten so close, and how the thank you card him and my sister-in-law wrote from their wedding made me tear up a bit.
I should talk about how fricking happy I am on casual Fridays when I can wear jeans and how I never thought I'd feel that way. Dude, dress pants every day suck more than I realized. (Also, they rub against the piercing my damn niece made me get). There is a certain dress code for some events that have to be covered.
I should talk about how crazy it feels that I've met something like 500 people in the last few months, and how horrible I feel when they remember my name and I'm trying to recall the exact event I covered that they were at.
I should talk about the amazing support system I have in my life. I wouldn't have made it through this week without collapsing, without breaking down, without just curling myself into a ball and giving up if it hadn't been for them.
I should talk about how I haven't worked out once this week and at an event I was covering tonight a fellow zumba goer stopped me and told me they've missed me this week.
I should talk about my nieces first birthday party and how dang cute she is and how she's already growing up too fast.
I should talk about words of wisdom from my grandpa and hearing him tell me "It's your life, you have to live it the way you want."
I've got a lot of things I should talk about for this post and I've got things I'm trying not to talk about.
I should talk about how I believe in Karma, angels and that the truth always comes out.
I know from experience that grief lessons over time. My own theory is not that the grief lessons, just that we become numb to it so that we can function from day to day
If I don't make it back here before the new year in less than 30 days, then let me tell you a superstition I've always had.
I've always believed the person you're with at midnight, is the person you'll spend the most time with that year. It's always rung true for me.Kiss someone you love at that moment.
I guess the life lesson this week, is say I'm sorry, forgive and just love each other.
I lost a friend this week, a friend that had been a sidekick for more than a decade. From the day we met, I was the ornery one. She was the one with the good head on her shoulders.
There are so many things that make her death hard to take and hard to handle.
Several months ago, this friend and I, we had a falling out. It's not important now what over. I had always planned to heal the rift between us. I always thought there would be time to. Now there isn't time to say "hey we were both assholes in that moment." There isn't time to tell her again that I love her, hug her or hear her laughter.
There isn't time to run away to Vegas for a weekend like we said we would. Even though, she swore if we ran away even for a weekend she was attaching a GPS to me because of my habit of wondering off to talk to people and people watch. (I asked her once how she was going to attach it if I decided to go streaking down the strip)
I keep rereading our last messages to each other a couple months ago, a message in which she told me she's proud of me and so happy for chasing my dreams and that it was okay that we were on different paths now. I always thought our paths would eventually converge again.
So as I sit here, I'm covered up with the afghan she crocheted me two years ago for Christmas, the year that I made all of my friends homemade ornaments with their names on them. (For friends and family reading this, I want that ornament).
I'm trying not to be incredibly angry, incredibly sad, incredibly heartbroken over a life gone way too soon. Over a light extinguished before her time.
After I write this blog, I have to write my yearly reflections. (Bare with me, it involves this) Several years ago I started doing this. When I started, this friend and I, the friend I'm grieving over, talked about what a good idea it was to be able to see how far you had come and what goals had been accomplished from year to year.
That conversation started her writing a journal. I wonder if anyone has found that journal yet.
I guess now I should talk about my job, about the story I wrote for National Adoption Month and how cool it was. I should talk about the same-sex couple that gave four kids a family by adopting them and is in the process of adopting a fifth.
I should talk about schedules and how the last couple of years has just been preparing me for the craziness that is now my job.
I should talk about jokingly telling the county EMA director I was sick of looking at his face one week, after seeing him five times in two days, particularly after he volunteered me to go up with them on the scaffolding at the courthouse once it's placed.
I should talk about open mic nights, covering museum events and trying not to feel incredibly stupid when I talk to the commissioners and have to ask ten billion questions to understand things sometimes.
I should talk about how sad I was when I found out that the 19 year old terminal boy who kissed my hand when I walked away, the one I wrote a story on last month succumbed to his illness. I should mention there are perks to this job, and some cool things, but some things still kick you in the feels.
http://www.dailychiefunion.com/featured/man-receives-diplomas-in-special-graduation-ceremony-at-angeline/
I should say here that some of the stories I cover become more than stories, they teach me life lessons and help me see the beauty in the world.
I should talk about going with friends to see Mockingjay and having one of my best friends, tell me she's thinking about moving away. (Don't think I'm not gonna stalk you woman).
I should talk about my crazy uncle (yeah the one that was sick this summer) rearranging my bedroom at his house to give me a bigger bed, a pillow mattress and memory foam pillows and jokingly telling my brother I'm not going to be surprised the day I walk into that room and my uncle has a full wardrobe for me.
I should talk about the special Thanksgiving dinner with my niece, me and a friend of ours that didn't have anyplace to go for Thanksgiving. I should talk about them teaching me to play Kings and other drinking games because I never lived my twenties.
I should talk about my youngest son turning 17 next week and how I wonder what I am going to do after my kids all graduate.
I should talk about how I never realized how sensitive my children are to me, until my middle son hugged me and told me he loves me after I found out about my friend.
I should talk about the date I have this weekend and how I'm glad he doesn't think I'm crazy this week even though I keep telling him I feel like a bi-polar person on a runaway train. (yeah certain crazy friend if you're reading this I know I'm always like that).
I should talk about how I've made a friend at the office, thank god, someone I can talk to and don't have to be a professional adult when I'm talking to her. Finally, someone to have lunch with.
I should talk about freezing trying to take pictures of Christmas tree farms and the event I'll be covering tomorrow night.
I should talk about watching OSU kick Michigan's butt last week with my brother and how cool it is that me and my brother finally talked about a lot of things. I should say how incredibly glad I am we've gotten so close, and how the thank you card him and my sister-in-law wrote from their wedding made me tear up a bit.
I should talk about how fricking happy I am on casual Fridays when I can wear jeans and how I never thought I'd feel that way. Dude, dress pants every day suck more than I realized. (Also, they rub against the piercing my damn niece made me get). There is a certain dress code for some events that have to be covered.
I should talk about how crazy it feels that I've met something like 500 people in the last few months, and how horrible I feel when they remember my name and I'm trying to recall the exact event I covered that they were at.
I should talk about the amazing support system I have in my life. I wouldn't have made it through this week without collapsing, without breaking down, without just curling myself into a ball and giving up if it hadn't been for them.
I should talk about how I haven't worked out once this week and at an event I was covering tonight a fellow zumba goer stopped me and told me they've missed me this week.
I should talk about my nieces first birthday party and how dang cute she is and how she's already growing up too fast.
I should talk about words of wisdom from my grandpa and hearing him tell me "It's your life, you have to live it the way you want."
I've got a lot of things I should talk about for this post and I've got things I'm trying not to talk about.
I should talk about how I believe in Karma, angels and that the truth always comes out.
I know from experience that grief lessons over time. My own theory is not that the grief lessons, just that we become numb to it so that we can function from day to day
If I don't make it back here before the new year in less than 30 days, then let me tell you a superstition I've always had.
I've always believed the person you're with at midnight, is the person you'll spend the most time with that year. It's always rung true for me.Kiss someone you love at that moment.
I guess the life lesson this week, is say I'm sorry, forgive and just love each other.
 |
| "The greatest gift of life is friendship and I have received it." Hubert H. Humphrey. |
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Even through heartbreak, there's always a reason to smile.
Well October ended with a bang, or more appropriately a lot of jumping around at a Drowning Pool concert with my best friend. (more about that in a minute)
October is always a hard month for me. I was always a girl that loved Halloween, but 17 years ago, my best friend died on Halloween, two weeks after her 18th birthday. It's made the remaining years tough. So, on Halloween, I always try to find something to celebrate. I make a month out of enjoying the scares, and dressing up.
This year's costume is by far my favorite and one I will probably wear a few more times. As a little girl She-ra was my hero. I faithfully watched her and her horse Spirit take on the bad guys. My soul dies a little bit whenever someone asks me who She-ra is.
When my niece (yes, she's my cousin but I say niece because that's the relationship we have) Danny said I had to dress up to take Lyndsey trick or treating, I was a little unsure of myself. The outfit is a little, revealing and I didn't want the other parents staring at me, judging me.
Half way through it, I looked at these girls who I would defend with my life, realized I never want them to be ashamed to be themselves and said, "Ya know what, at least I have the courage to be a little crazy sometimes." Body shaming, be damned!
I think that defines me some days.
Speaking of the courage to be a little crazy, I've still been hanging out with the brother's friends (I should stop saying my brother's friends, they've become my friends too). They make me laugh hysterically, and teach me to not take myself so seriously. Sometimes though, we get into these deep conversations like "Do you believe in soul mates," or "Do you think it's entirely possible that we're too selfish to love someone 100 percent?"
I don't get deep with many people, but I dig it.
Currently, we're having a debate about whether a dinner I went on last week was a date, or just friends hanging out. Yeah, I'm that dense when it comes to the male intentions. My assumption is that it was friends hanging out, they say no guy is taking a girl to dinner unless it's a date.
I won't mention his name, until I get it figured out, but we went to a dive joint, had burgers and laughed. I think we've talked every day this week, and when he had to cancel a dinner this week, he instead filled my jacket with candy as I took pics of trick or treaters for work.
I couldn't talk him into going to Scarey Carey (local haunted house) with me to take pics, that might be a good thing as the freaky clown had all sorts of fun with me and he assures me that he's a wuss that won't even watch scary movies.
At work we had a little Halloween party. I have missed the comradery of my Lowe's people, but maybe I'm finding a little of it at the paper. It's a process.
I also covered a story, yesterday, about a boy, he's 19, he's terminal and his school held a special graduation ceremony for him. Afterwards I went up to talk to him, we played arm wrestling and when I went to walk away, he kissed my hand and melted my heart.
I wrote his story through tears, but what I took from him was that no matter what life hands you, there is always a reason to be happy. Sometimes simple things are what's important in life. Also, a little kindness is the most memorable thing in the world.
Remember that 92-year-old veteran that told me "dare, dream, do"? This week, I found out he is also the master of cornhole. So basically, I touched the first cornhole boards. Someone asked me how I felt, and I said, "Like I am the chosen one baby!"
I guess that ties into this, because as I wrote his story, I sat and listened to the recording of our interview. When I asked how he met his wife he said "I saw her playing in sixth grade and said, 'that's gonna be my girl' and she has been for 71 years." What do you think it takes to love someone like that?
On a serious note, the publisher stopped by to chat this week and asked me what I feel I need to improve on. I think I've improved somewhat, but AP style still freaks me out and throws me for a loop. Whenever I think I have it figured out, I don't. He says I've got the instinct, but AP style is my new nemesis.
I feel like I can write stories that will make you laugh or cry, but when it comes to obits and blotter, I feel like I'm constantly screwing up. Story of my life, the complicated things I seem to be able to handle, and the simple things I struggle with.
On the kid front, there was an Army recruiter at my house this week. Two of my boys are taking the ASFAB next week. Mom's a little nervous, but they need to leave the nest and pay for college. Especially since now, they're all pushing for me to get a love life. When did my 21-year-old start trying to hand me life advice?
So about that Drowning Pool concert, I had fun and of course worried about Vicki when the strobe lights started. It's that damn nurture thing.
One of the things I told my brother's (and mine, you guys are mine too) friends this week is that, if you put me in a bar, the creepiest guys in the bar will hit on me. Five creeps and one couple (really really was NOT amused at that). Vicki, I love you but laughing at me through that is no help! So guys, here is some advice, don't hit on a girl during a concert. It's loud, I can't hear you anyway, and I paid money to watch the band. Also, if you ask me during a concert what my name is, the answer will be Tiffany.
Next week is election week, so I get to cover my first election stories and then who knows what my week will bring? No matter what my week brings, I'll try to remember, no matter what the heartbreak there is always a reason to smile.
Stay tuned for the next rendition of my crazy life, when maybe I'll figure out if it was a date or dinner, and to see if I ever manage to conquer AP!
October is always a hard month for me. I was always a girl that loved Halloween, but 17 years ago, my best friend died on Halloween, two weeks after her 18th birthday. It's made the remaining years tough. So, on Halloween, I always try to find something to celebrate. I make a month out of enjoying the scares, and dressing up.
This year's costume is by far my favorite and one I will probably wear a few more times. As a little girl She-ra was my hero. I faithfully watched her and her horse Spirit take on the bad guys. My soul dies a little bit whenever someone asks me who She-ra is.
When my niece (yes, she's my cousin but I say niece because that's the relationship we have) Danny said I had to dress up to take Lyndsey trick or treating, I was a little unsure of myself. The outfit is a little, revealing and I didn't want the other parents staring at me, judging me.
Half way through it, I looked at these girls who I would defend with my life, realized I never want them to be ashamed to be themselves and said, "Ya know what, at least I have the courage to be a little crazy sometimes." Body shaming, be damned!
I think that defines me some days.
Speaking of the courage to be a little crazy, I've still been hanging out with the brother's friends (I should stop saying my brother's friends, they've become my friends too). They make me laugh hysterically, and teach me to not take myself so seriously. Sometimes though, we get into these deep conversations like "Do you believe in soul mates," or "Do you think it's entirely possible that we're too selfish to love someone 100 percent?"
I don't get deep with many people, but I dig it.
Currently, we're having a debate about whether a dinner I went on last week was a date, or just friends hanging out. Yeah, I'm that dense when it comes to the male intentions. My assumption is that it was friends hanging out, they say no guy is taking a girl to dinner unless it's a date.
I won't mention his name, until I get it figured out, but we went to a dive joint, had burgers and laughed. I think we've talked every day this week, and when he had to cancel a dinner this week, he instead filled my jacket with candy as I took pics of trick or treaters for work.
I couldn't talk him into going to Scarey Carey (local haunted house) with me to take pics, that might be a good thing as the freaky clown had all sorts of fun with me and he assures me that he's a wuss that won't even watch scary movies.
At work we had a little Halloween party. I have missed the comradery of my Lowe's people, but maybe I'm finding a little of it at the paper. It's a process.
I also covered a story, yesterday, about a boy, he's 19, he's terminal and his school held a special graduation ceremony for him. Afterwards I went up to talk to him, we played arm wrestling and when I went to walk away, he kissed my hand and melted my heart.
I wrote his story through tears, but what I took from him was that no matter what life hands you, there is always a reason to be happy. Sometimes simple things are what's important in life. Also, a little kindness is the most memorable thing in the world.
Remember that 92-year-old veteran that told me "dare, dream, do"? This week, I found out he is also the master of cornhole. So basically, I touched the first cornhole boards. Someone asked me how I felt, and I said, "Like I am the chosen one baby!"
I guess that ties into this, because as I wrote his story, I sat and listened to the recording of our interview. When I asked how he met his wife he said "I saw her playing in sixth grade and said, 'that's gonna be my girl' and she has been for 71 years." What do you think it takes to love someone like that?
On a serious note, the publisher stopped by to chat this week and asked me what I feel I need to improve on. I think I've improved somewhat, but AP style still freaks me out and throws me for a loop. Whenever I think I have it figured out, I don't. He says I've got the instinct, but AP style is my new nemesis.
I feel like I can write stories that will make you laugh or cry, but when it comes to obits and blotter, I feel like I'm constantly screwing up. Story of my life, the complicated things I seem to be able to handle, and the simple things I struggle with.
On the kid front, there was an Army recruiter at my house this week. Two of my boys are taking the ASFAB next week. Mom's a little nervous, but they need to leave the nest and pay for college. Especially since now, they're all pushing for me to get a love life. When did my 21-year-old start trying to hand me life advice?
So about that Drowning Pool concert, I had fun and of course worried about Vicki when the strobe lights started. It's that damn nurture thing.
One of the things I told my brother's (and mine, you guys are mine too) friends this week is that, if you put me in a bar, the creepiest guys in the bar will hit on me. Five creeps and one couple (really really was NOT amused at that). Vicki, I love you but laughing at me through that is no help! So guys, here is some advice, don't hit on a girl during a concert. It's loud, I can't hear you anyway, and I paid money to watch the band. Also, if you ask me during a concert what my name is, the answer will be Tiffany.
Next week is election week, so I get to cover my first election stories and then who knows what my week will bring? No matter what my week brings, I'll try to remember, no matter what the heartbreak there is always a reason to smile.
Stay tuned for the next rendition of my crazy life, when maybe I'll figure out if it was a date or dinner, and to see if I ever manage to conquer AP!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Dream, Dare, Do
The Last time I sat here typing away was a year ago as I sat and pondered if I would take the new job I had been offered.
After fears about what it would do to my kids, and whether I would be able to afford to live, I broken-heartedly turned down the job. I was left reeling, wondering if I would ever really get out of Lowes. I just have to say in August I finally made it.
So here, let me catch you up on the last year of my life.
The changes have been plenty this year, from the new job, to finally getting closer to one of my siblings, and seeing him married. Some things haven't changed that much as I still seem to have two homes.
The beginning of my year doesn't have a lot to tell, other than a college son who got screwed up at one school, and got accepted to another, an attempt at online dating that gave me a horror story to tell for the ages. (I quickly abandoned any illusions online dating is a good idea) And a godmother that passed away quite suddenly.
It wasn't until summer that it got interesting.
A freelance writing job for Findlay City Guide landed right in my lap, thanks to a co-worker with the right connections. That feeling of seeing my name in print still gives me a high every time and I got to tell some of my favorite stories. My favorites are always going to be about the people who reach out to their communities, give back and just know how to live.
August never really heated up in the way of weather, my career and the rest of my crazy life did.
In August one of my uncles got sick and had to have his leg amputated. This wouldn't have been quite so much if it hadn't happened right in the middle of trying to move him closer to the family. Thirty-six hours is what I spent with no sleep, sometimes laying on the hospital floor just so that I'd be close in case he woke up and needed me. One of my best friends asked me if I needed anything, and my demand was "Please a phone charger and a shirt that doesn't have coffee stains!"
Obviously that isn't the end of that particular story because everyday is a work in progress in that situation.The house that he has now is about 45 minutes away from me, but I keep a bedroom there for when my work life slows down to give me time. He tries to do for me what he feels my dad would have done. I'm just happy he's finally home and learning how to get around even if I sometimes call him Uncle Crazy or we bicker about our different life outlooks
I wrote five stories for that magazine and right as we started to plan the winter issue, I finally got a call from a publisher in Upper Sandusky, interviewed and got the job.
Leaving Lowes was hard. Now that it's no longer my paying job I can call it what it is. The job sucked,the politics sucked but after two-months being gone, I know the friends I made there are friends I will never forget. No matter how bad I wanted out, I wish I could take the comradery of the people I spent 11 years working with.
When I watched my brother get married, it gave me the chance to get to know some of his buddies. They're filling my life with laughter and a little bit of craziness that maybe I need.
In my first few weeks at the paper, I helped cover the county fair. I swear I met close to 500 people. Sometimes I'm still spinning and have to stop and ask someone to remind me of what their name is. When I took the commissioners beat, one of the first things they did was take me to the top of the courthouse because of a restoration project they're doing.
Even with my fear of heights, seeing all over the county I am working in was a unique experience.So in the last two months, I've been on top of the courthouse, gone up in the bucket of a firetruck, covered a few court cases and a couple of cool buildings and one particular wood-working group that still makes me smile every time I look at the flower one of them carved that sits on my desk.
There are days it's hard. This week there have been sad stories in the news and disagreements elsewhere. That's not what's important though. What's important is a year ago I was never sure if I'd get to this point and here I am.
So what next? Everyday seems to be an adventure for me. This year Taylor will graduate and leave me with only Zachary left at home. I'll let you in on a secret, I've never been an adult without kids.
The romance thing could still happen, even though I recently told a best friend I'm not holding my breath.
In the meantime, I've got my friends, both old and newly formed. I've got this crazy job that is both a job and adventure.
One of those really phenomenal people I met is an old veteran who has lived an unusual life. When I asked him what advice he has for the younger generation, he told me, "Dare, Dream, Do." That's what I'm aspiring to do.
After fears about what it would do to my kids, and whether I would be able to afford to live, I broken-heartedly turned down the job. I was left reeling, wondering if I would ever really get out of Lowes. I just have to say in August I finally made it.
So here, let me catch you up on the last year of my life.
The changes have been plenty this year, from the new job, to finally getting closer to one of my siblings, and seeing him married. Some things haven't changed that much as I still seem to have two homes.
The beginning of my year doesn't have a lot to tell, other than a college son who got screwed up at one school, and got accepted to another, an attempt at online dating that gave me a horror story to tell for the ages. (I quickly abandoned any illusions online dating is a good idea) And a godmother that passed away quite suddenly.
It wasn't until summer that it got interesting.
A freelance writing job for Findlay City Guide landed right in my lap, thanks to a co-worker with the right connections. That feeling of seeing my name in print still gives me a high every time and I got to tell some of my favorite stories. My favorites are always going to be about the people who reach out to their communities, give back and just know how to live.
August never really heated up in the way of weather, my career and the rest of my crazy life did.
In August one of my uncles got sick and had to have his leg amputated. This wouldn't have been quite so much if it hadn't happened right in the middle of trying to move him closer to the family. Thirty-six hours is what I spent with no sleep, sometimes laying on the hospital floor just so that I'd be close in case he woke up and needed me. One of my best friends asked me if I needed anything, and my demand was "Please a phone charger and a shirt that doesn't have coffee stains!"
Obviously that isn't the end of that particular story because everyday is a work in progress in that situation.The house that he has now is about 45 minutes away from me, but I keep a bedroom there for when my work life slows down to give me time. He tries to do for me what he feels my dad would have done. I'm just happy he's finally home and learning how to get around even if I sometimes call him Uncle Crazy or we bicker about our different life outlooks
I wrote five stories for that magazine and right as we started to plan the winter issue, I finally got a call from a publisher in Upper Sandusky, interviewed and got the job.
Leaving Lowes was hard. Now that it's no longer my paying job I can call it what it is. The job sucked,the politics sucked but after two-months being gone, I know the friends I made there are friends I will never forget. No matter how bad I wanted out, I wish I could take the comradery of the people I spent 11 years working with.
When I watched my brother get married, it gave me the chance to get to know some of his buddies. They're filling my life with laughter and a little bit of craziness that maybe I need.
In my first few weeks at the paper, I helped cover the county fair. I swear I met close to 500 people. Sometimes I'm still spinning and have to stop and ask someone to remind me of what their name is. When I took the commissioners beat, one of the first things they did was take me to the top of the courthouse because of a restoration project they're doing.
Even with my fear of heights, seeing all over the county I am working in was a unique experience.So in the last two months, I've been on top of the courthouse, gone up in the bucket of a firetruck, covered a few court cases and a couple of cool buildings and one particular wood-working group that still makes me smile every time I look at the flower one of them carved that sits on my desk.
There are days it's hard. This week there have been sad stories in the news and disagreements elsewhere. That's not what's important though. What's important is a year ago I was never sure if I'd get to this point and here I am.
So what next? Everyday seems to be an adventure for me. This year Taylor will graduate and leave me with only Zachary left at home. I'll let you in on a secret, I've never been an adult without kids.
The romance thing could still happen, even though I recently told a best friend I'm not holding my breath.
In the meantime, I've got my friends, both old and newly formed. I've got this crazy job that is both a job and adventure.
One of those really phenomenal people I met is an old veteran who has lived an unusual life. When I asked him what advice he has for the younger generation, he told me, "Dare, Dream, Do." That's what I'm aspiring to do.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
New Fears and Beginnings
Most of the blogs that I've written have been about adventures. I've taken adventures to discover new places, and conquered fears. I still remember my first day as an intern, with the butterflies floating around my belly. I was terrified, but I took that deep breath and everything turned out fine.
After graduating I jumped right into my next challenge, NaNoWiMo month. For those that have no clue what that means, November is national novel writing month. You challenge yourself to write 50,000 words in a month. For the most part, I've taken to that challenge well. Apparently I have a lot to say.
I've also watched one of my best friends get married and had a big interview. I sat there watching her dance with her new husband, and wishing that maybe someday fate, or whatever it is will give me another chance to get it right.
Well the interview turned out well. The editor took me to lunch, and made sure to introduce me to superintendents of two of the local high schools. Make no mistake, I drilled all of those guys with questions, after all how many times have I been told "You ask too many questions."
He says I've got talent. Since his paper has won something like 55 awards, including the defense of the "Best Defense of the First Amendment" award from the Society of Professional Journalists, he might know talent when he sees it.
Today we had a short phone call. He expressed concern that I could make it financially on the wages, as the same time telling me that I'm talented and they'd love to have me. My uncle, the one whose advice I always take? He says "You can't climb up the ladder if you refuse to climb the first rung."
So why am I having problems catching my breath? Why does it feel like someone is pounding on my chest?
This job is a huge paycut. It's enough of a paycut that I am aware that I would become one of "those people" who have to use the system for assistance to feed two teenagers. For the record, I know a few woman who are single mothers and work, that have to be "those" people to survive. They're doing what they need to do, and I will too. It's just a little kick to the pride is all. I've never been drowning in money, but my paycheck to paycheck will get a little tighter.
It means moving my kids to a new school, somewhere where they don't know anyone. I'm not just starting over, I'm forcing them to too. This is my dream, but a part of me wonders if I gave up the right to dream when I had kids?
It means moving, four hours away from my best friends. I've built a tight support circle. Right now I know that if I want a roadtrip, or a cup of coffee, or even just someone to go clubbing with, or watch a new movie with, to watch a football game with, I can call my best friends and say "Let's go."
If I'm four hours away who will I call for those things? Will I make new friends and build those tight bonds that I've managed to build here? My family, their hearts are going to break. What's going to happen when I'm not a short distance away when I'm needed to help with Christmas dinner, or plan baby showers?
It means leaving behind a job I've been at for ten years. I won't miss the job or the politics, but there are people I'll miss. In ten years I've made friends.I've spent more time with my co-workers than I have family. These people have laughed with me on good days, and listened to me rant on bad. They've created crazy nicknames for me, and been smiling faces that got me through when I wanted to rip out my hair. They've pulled crazy memorable pranks like wrapping me in bubble wrap, or putting my hoodie so high on a pole I couldn't reach it.
I know that there are many of those people I will never see again. I've lived away from "home" before, and when you make it back your days and nights are filled with demands of other people to spend time with you.
There's a tiny part of me that wonders, what if talent isn't enough? What if I struggle with deadlines, or the pressure is too much? What if the financial struggle weighs down my creativity, or if the kids hate the new school?
Even as I'm writing this, I'm sitting here looking around my home and overwhelmed at the idea of packing and unpacking. I'm overwhelmed at the idea of trying to find a new home four hours away. My pictures will be taken down and wrapped away, my dishes and nicknacks will have to find new homes and shelves.
I'm terrified, and thrilled. I'm happy while my heart breaks. I'm fearful but excited. I don't remember ever having this contrast of emotions raging inside of me.
When I started out 2013, I had a series of goals, finding a new job was my final goal before 2014. I just didn't realize how heavy that goal would weigh.
After graduating I jumped right into my next challenge, NaNoWiMo month. For those that have no clue what that means, November is national novel writing month. You challenge yourself to write 50,000 words in a month. For the most part, I've taken to that challenge well. Apparently I have a lot to say.
I've also watched one of my best friends get married and had a big interview. I sat there watching her dance with her new husband, and wishing that maybe someday fate, or whatever it is will give me another chance to get it right.
Well the interview turned out well. The editor took me to lunch, and made sure to introduce me to superintendents of two of the local high schools. Make no mistake, I drilled all of those guys with questions, after all how many times have I been told "You ask too many questions."
He says I've got talent. Since his paper has won something like 55 awards, including the defense of the "Best Defense of the First Amendment" award from the Society of Professional Journalists, he might know talent when he sees it.
Today we had a short phone call. He expressed concern that I could make it financially on the wages, as the same time telling me that I'm talented and they'd love to have me. My uncle, the one whose advice I always take? He says "You can't climb up the ladder if you refuse to climb the first rung."
So why am I having problems catching my breath? Why does it feel like someone is pounding on my chest?
This job is a huge paycut. It's enough of a paycut that I am aware that I would become one of "those people" who have to use the system for assistance to feed two teenagers. For the record, I know a few woman who are single mothers and work, that have to be "those" people to survive. They're doing what they need to do, and I will too. It's just a little kick to the pride is all. I've never been drowning in money, but my paycheck to paycheck will get a little tighter.
It means moving my kids to a new school, somewhere where they don't know anyone. I'm not just starting over, I'm forcing them to too. This is my dream, but a part of me wonders if I gave up the right to dream when I had kids?
It means moving, four hours away from my best friends. I've built a tight support circle. Right now I know that if I want a roadtrip, or a cup of coffee, or even just someone to go clubbing with, or watch a new movie with, to watch a football game with, I can call my best friends and say "Let's go."
If I'm four hours away who will I call for those things? Will I make new friends and build those tight bonds that I've managed to build here? My family, their hearts are going to break. What's going to happen when I'm not a short distance away when I'm needed to help with Christmas dinner, or plan baby showers?
It means leaving behind a job I've been at for ten years. I won't miss the job or the politics, but there are people I'll miss. In ten years I've made friends.I've spent more time with my co-workers than I have family. These people have laughed with me on good days, and listened to me rant on bad. They've created crazy nicknames for me, and been smiling faces that got me through when I wanted to rip out my hair. They've pulled crazy memorable pranks like wrapping me in bubble wrap, or putting my hoodie so high on a pole I couldn't reach it.
I know that there are many of those people I will never see again. I've lived away from "home" before, and when you make it back your days and nights are filled with demands of other people to spend time with you.
There's a tiny part of me that wonders, what if talent isn't enough? What if I struggle with deadlines, or the pressure is too much? What if the financial struggle weighs down my creativity, or if the kids hate the new school?
Even as I'm writing this, I'm sitting here looking around my home and overwhelmed at the idea of packing and unpacking. I'm overwhelmed at the idea of trying to find a new home four hours away. My pictures will be taken down and wrapped away, my dishes and nicknacks will have to find new homes and shelves.
I'm terrified, and thrilled. I'm happy while my heart breaks. I'm fearful but excited. I don't remember ever having this contrast of emotions raging inside of me.
When I started out 2013, I had a series of goals, finding a new job was my final goal before 2014. I just didn't realize how heavy that goal would weigh.
Friday, November 1, 2013
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: The rest of my life
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: The rest of my life: I finally made it. I finally graduated. Every day since I graduated I've spent time sending out resumes. I'm ready to chase my dream...
The rest of my life
I finally made it. I finally graduated. Every day since I graduated I've spent time sending out resumes. I'm ready to chase my dreams. I even had an interview and got invited for a second interview.
So yes, I'm nervous, scared and terrified, but I'm also exhilarated. I'm ready for my life to start. The real life that I've been promising myself will be mine. I've worked hard to get here, and I know I'll keep working hard to make it.
My next interview is a week away. I have a lot of thinking to do. I know a lot of details about the job. I know that it pays less than my current "real job." I know that it's three hours away from where I live now. That means a lot of changes. It means my sophomore and junior would have to change schools. I also know that it means I'd actually get to write, and that there's room for growth.
People that know me know how much my family means to me. They know that my friends hold a big part in my life. I'm trying to make a choice before I get to the spot where I'm offered this job and have to make a decision. I'm basing this on the fact that I was invited down to "meet the staff, and get shown around a little."
"What means more to you, your family or your dreams?" A friend asked me when I told them.
Ouch, I always knew it would come down to that. Am I selfish for wanting to build a life that makes me happy? If I want to make it to the top, I have to climb from the bottom.
The contradictory advice from my family doesn't help either. My uncle, the one I always take career advice from says "Without the first job, you can't move up. Besides, that's a nice little town. " My aunt who has my heart says "You'll be so far away. What if I need you."
I wanted to ask, when have I never not needed you, See, now I know that if I need a day of shopping or someone to calm my nerves, or even just a drink, I can call one of several people and have a day adventure. This new thing, would be the unknown. It's scary, but haven't I already conquered several fears?
The questions that root in my mind are things like, "Will my boys resent me, or will they adapt easily? How much family stuff am I going to miss out on by being so far away? What if I don't make friends as easily as I have here? What if I get there and love it? What if taking this job will give me experience and time to pursue my Masters?"
Plus, I'm 35, what if this is my last chance to prove I can do this?
I took the writing challenge for the month of November. I'm supposed to pump out
10,000 words a day. I did that because I knew I had graduated, and thought maybe now I could focus on that novel I've always wanted to write. Instead this is distracting me.
By the time I post next, I'll have made a choice. I'll have made a decision. I'll have decided what's more important, chasing my dreams, or making everyone around me happy except me.
So yes, I'm nervous, scared and terrified, but I'm also exhilarated. I'm ready for my life to start. The real life that I've been promising myself will be mine. I've worked hard to get here, and I know I'll keep working hard to make it.
My next interview is a week away. I have a lot of thinking to do. I know a lot of details about the job. I know that it pays less than my current "real job." I know that it's three hours away from where I live now. That means a lot of changes. It means my sophomore and junior would have to change schools. I also know that it means I'd actually get to write, and that there's room for growth.
People that know me know how much my family means to me. They know that my friends hold a big part in my life. I'm trying to make a choice before I get to the spot where I'm offered this job and have to make a decision. I'm basing this on the fact that I was invited down to "meet the staff, and get shown around a little."
"What means more to you, your family or your dreams?" A friend asked me when I told them.
Ouch, I always knew it would come down to that. Am I selfish for wanting to build a life that makes me happy? If I want to make it to the top, I have to climb from the bottom.
The contradictory advice from my family doesn't help either. My uncle, the one I always take career advice from says "Without the first job, you can't move up. Besides, that's a nice little town. " My aunt who has my heart says "You'll be so far away. What if I need you."
I wanted to ask, when have I never not needed you, See, now I know that if I need a day of shopping or someone to calm my nerves, or even just a drink, I can call one of several people and have a day adventure. This new thing, would be the unknown. It's scary, but haven't I already conquered several fears?
The questions that root in my mind are things like, "Will my boys resent me, or will they adapt easily? How much family stuff am I going to miss out on by being so far away? What if I don't make friends as easily as I have here? What if I get there and love it? What if taking this job will give me experience and time to pursue my Masters?"
Plus, I'm 35, what if this is my last chance to prove I can do this?
I took the writing challenge for the month of November. I'm supposed to pump out
10,000 words a day. I did that because I knew I had graduated, and thought maybe now I could focus on that novel I've always wanted to write. Instead this is distracting me.
By the time I post next, I'll have made a choice. I'll have made a decision. I'll have decided what's more important, chasing my dreams, or making everyone around me happy except me.
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