I can honestly say this year's reflections for 2015 and goals for 2016 have been the hardest I've ever had to sit down and think about.

See, my reflections and goals started years ago when I wanted to see how far I'd actually come through the year. I wanted to remember the lessons I had learned through out the year and write the memories one last time before I started fresh for the new year.

A few years back, Gina started doing the same thing. It still hurts to know she will never again write those goals, or write her accomplishments for the year.

Each year, I read the previous year's reflections and goals to see what I accomplished, right before I sit down and write the next year.

It's strange that in a year where I set no goals and said anything is possible, I became so lost and broken.

For 2015 I said I had achieved so many goals that I wanted to take a break from big goals.

It's probably a good thing, because with the losses I've endured, I don't think I would have acheived them.

Let's call 2015 the lost year. The hard year. The year of brokenness. The year I lost my uncle Ken, the year I lost my god brother, the year two of my sons are no longer home, the year I lost my dreams, the year I lost sanity.

My friends and those who love me have struggled this year to know what to say, to know what to do. None of them were ever used to me being the broken one but every one of them wanted to heal me.


I've gone on adventures to castles and horseback riding. I've traveled to Georgia. I've pushed myself and forced myself to go play laser tag with the family and to go camping and to concerts. I've made myself go on every adventure I was offered to try and hurt a little less. When you're busy you dont have time to think or feel.

I also lost something else this year. I lost my pride. It's hard to be prideful when you're not sure if you're going to get out of bed in the morning or just go back to sleep because when you sleep the pain doesn't exist. It's hard to be prideful when you don't sleep for days because the dreams don't come if you're awake.

It's hard to be prideful when you start drinking at 10 am on Thanksgiving because you can't handle the memories or the ache.

Actually, it's hard to be prideful when you tell the people that love you, that if you go to the hospital, please remember to........and for once, when you talk about psychiatric care and being pushed to your limits, you're not making jokes.

So yeah 2015 is the lost year.

This past weekend, Matt and I went to see Trans Siberian Orchestra.

Which, speaking of Matt, I'm sure he'd call this year the lost year too. He's probably lost more than me this year. and everyday I've wished I could heal him, I could make him better, I could make him know it will be okay and someday it wont hurt as bad, but it's hard to give him that when I didn't have it myself. 

We went to Dayton ,and went to Brandeberry  Winery (4 miles outside Yellow Springs and I recommend it) and ate too much food and probably drank too much wine and then went to the concert.

It was something we had both always wanted to do and for reasons that are not mine to share, we finally went.

We dressed up and both looked so nice. I had always wanted to go because of the lights and because of the idea of classic music (which I love) mixed with rock.

I had no idea it would be so emotional.

During the first half of the concert, they tell a story of a little girl who runs away from home. She is sad and broken and hurting and loses her dreams. Through the magic of Christmas and a little help,  they're found again.

I had no idea I would cry, but somethings, hit home. I felt like someone was giving me a gentle reminder. "Yes it hurts now, and no it's not easy but you can still find your dreams again."

Tomorrow, Zachary will be 18. This year he will graduate and leave home.

I always knew because I had kids so young, I'd be young when they were old enough to leave home. Somehow when I was exhausted from being a single mom and working and taking care of the house and going to school field trips and baking class cupcakes for three kids ...this day seemed so far away.

I'm not even 40 and my youngest son is 18.  I never really thought this day would come, but here it is.

At the same time that my heart breaks, it gives me a little pride back too.For all the people that trashed me as a teenage mom, I struggled every damn day, but I got here and I got here without any help.

When this weekend rolls around I'll be hosting a girls day for some of the women that have helped me make it through my year. We'll keep creating new memories.

I guess now that this is already this long, it's time to set goals for 2016.

Well, even though I had a setback in the writing department, I have a couple of opportunities coming my way in 2016.

Those opportunities will help me release my creative side and help me take large roles in guiding the future of some publications. I've got plenty of  ideas. and am hoping that in 2016 I will actually get to take an Adobe Indesign class for graphic layout and design.

It will be helpful with the magazines.

I've also started a novel this year. The subject touches close to my heart, as it's about heroin addiction and the impact it has on families. It's written from several points of view and I will finish that this year.

I'll start working out again and eating better again. (I stopped working out when Uncle Ken died).

In the spring, I'll start work on my yard. I'll trim the bushes and plant some flowers and tear out the wheelchair ramp and hopefully find spots in the barn for beer pong and air hockey. 

My biggest goal for 2016 is to know that its okay to have days where I'm incredibly sad and cry because of the memories. It's okay to have days where I'm happy and I'm laughing and even though my loved ones aren't here, it's okay for me to be happy, because my strength, tenacity, fiestiness and laughter are some of the things they loved about me.

I know the huge hole in my heart may never be completely filled. It will be one day at a time every single day.

Let's call 2016 a year to start healing.

If you look below, these are the pictures of the people I can say I wouldn't have made it through the year without. Each of these people is someone I owe my heart to, I owe my life and my sanity to. Without these people to take care of me this year, I would have never found ways to start to heal. With everything else, I know that I am incredibly blessed to be loved so much. I am aware that part of my pain has been that the more you love the harder it is to let go. I cant function from day to day without these people in my life. Each of these people love me a little differently and each one gives me something different in my life that I need. But these people are the people that keep me fighting every day. I love each of you. Thank you for being my friends and support system.

adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: Baby steps.

adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: Baby steps.: Progress means different things to different people. Some people mark their progress by setting goals for months ahead and achieving them. S...

Baby steps.

Progress means different things to different people. Some people mark their progress by setting goals for months ahead and achieving them. Some people mark their progress in pictures. I'm learning to measure my progress in how I feel today, and what made me smile today.

Today, I finally replaced the chain for a cross I've worn around my neck for probably the last five years. I broke the chain a month ago in a fit of range and anger and hurt. As you can imagine my tirade was against God and why he's letting these things happen in my life.

I guess putting the cross back around my neck is a sign of progress.

Last week, I had a ton of reasons to smile. I smiled because I was able to give Taylor a hug for the first time in months. I smiled because of the way he now says "yes ma'am" and "Yes sir." I smiled because I watched him at the National Infantry museum intently looking at the names of the soldiers who have made sacrifices for their country.

As I listened to Taylor talk, I realized also there will be moments of separation between us now. He will have experiences that I can never understand. He will have moments in the military that will be like things I have never gone through in my life.

For the first time in his life, I may be able to say I'm here, Mom will always be here, but there will be times when the person he needs to turn to for advice or a listening ear is not me, but one of the many veterans in our family.

His life will be his own now.

Even though he didn't say it, he enjoyed the museums and lunches that  I picked out. When he was told mom had a day planned full of museums and a special lunch place he said, "It's mom, of course she has it planned."

Maybe at the age of 18, and in the military, he is old enough to appreciate the organizational skills I've always pushed.

When Zachary and I came back from the trip, I spend my Saturday with some of my best girlfriends (and my niece and sister in law) baking cookies, drinking sangria and laughing.

The gathering was my first official gathering in Uncle Ken's house. It was the first time I hosted an event for myself and not hosted for him. It was the first time I gathered friends of my own and said, "Make yourselves at home."

Sometimes it's hard to be here without his presence. That's the type of gathering he would have loved. The laughter and football in the background, the drinks being passed around, the teasing, all of it. I think it will be the first of many gatherings.

I also smiled, even though I cried today. I got a reminder in my email that tomorrow is Gina's birthday. I also pulled from the closet one of Uncle Ken's jackets that I used to wear in the chilly weather.

I've debated to wear it to work. It was always too big for me and always one of those things he kept because he knew I would never have a jacket. 

The heartache is still there. Right now it's a dull roar instead of raging in my ear. I know that things will get worse, get harder before they get better.

For grief support group, every week I'm supposed to journal about a topic. This week's topic was. "where did i love to go with my loved one."

Maybe just for Gina's birthday I'll gather some friends, go to Olers and take a walk around Riverside Park.

I found my topic for National Novel Writing Month in November. It's a story that discusses heroin addiction and how it affects the people around us.

In the mean time, I meet with the editor of the magazine Thursday, so that I can start doing some freelance writing for next season. 

I don't know why I chose such a hard topic, except, I do. It's my way of purging my pain and anger.

Progress isn't always a giant leap. Sometimes progress is as simple as a baby learning to pull itself up. Right now, I'm still learning to stand again.

A journey of life

As people, we define adventure as something exciting that we can't wait to do. Often adventures are to places we've never been, are fun and involve things we've never done before.

I had always defined my life as an adventure, mostly because I never knew quite where the road would take me, but I always knew I'd have fun.

When we think of journey's, we think of Frodo on Lord of the Rings (yes I just outed my geekiness). On journeys there are challenges and things we must overcome to accomplish a goal.

In the movies, that journey leads to the hero saving the world from disaster. In life, it's not quite that simple.

In life, I think the journey is to figure out how to not just survive, but thrive. Figuring  out your emotions and ambitions and goals and what it really is you want from life is a journey. Part of the journey is figuring out what you don't want.

With that being said, as part of my journey I'm in a grief support group. Through there I am learning that my grief is my own, my grief is unique to what other people may be feeling because the relationship I had with each person, was my own. I'm learning that I'm not crazy when I wake up every day and obsessively clean or bake.

I'm learning that there is no time limit for how long I may grieve. I have to find my own path.

Some of what I'm grieving for, isn't just the people I lost, but lost dreams and opportunities. I'm grieving for what I knew and what I thought I knew.

During grief group, they told me that while my dreams of traveling are currently on hold, I still need to find a way to make that happen. That I have to remember that I had dreams too.

Next week, Taylor will graduate basic training. I'm traveling with Zachary and the boy's dad to attend that graduation in Georgia. After his graduation, Taylor will travel to his next duty station, where he will be for 19 weeks.

I already know it's going to be hard on me. Last week Taylor called home and I cried and cried. I cried when he asked who was coming to graduation, and it was me his dad and brother. See, at one time me and Uncle Ken had talked about taking the trip together. It will be a bitter sweet week.

This morning I talked to my grandpa. A man whose wisdom I normally trust. I told him the shortened version of the story of my life over the last couple of months. I told him about me taking over the house my uncle left and how I miss working for a paper and writing everyday. Grandpa said. "As long as it felt right at the time."

Grandpa tells me to trust my gut a lot, he doesn't say it in those words exactly, but  I know it's what he means. He also gives me directions. Which is grandpa's way of showing love.

Last weekend, I spent time with my brother and sis in law. As my baby brother asked me questions and remembered where the house is that he grew up in and remembered small details like us walking up an alley to a movie rental store, I smiled.

He had some good memories. That makes me feel better and lets me know I wasn't always a rotten big sis. He's just become such a big part of my life.

The  day after I get back from Georgia, I planned a girl's baking day for some of my best friends. I told them we need a day where we drink sangria and bake and listen to music and discuss everything in life. I have discovered over the last few months that I need them.

I'm trying to look at the positives these days. Not working at the paper and having a set schedule will allow me to take that graphic art and design class I've wanted to take for the last two years. It will offer me an opportunity to take some more adult education classes and continue learning new things.

I also plan to participate in National Novel Writing Month in November, although right now I'm still trying to figure out what I'll write about.  There's also the fact that magazine writing is and has been my favorite type of writing and I'll have more time to do that.

The next time I sit down at this blog, I'll have had an adventure along the journey that is my life. Maybe I'm not trying to save the world, but trying to save myself is just as important.

Someday.

People say you have to hit rock bottom before you can go up. They say the only place to go from the bottom is up. People say that god doesn't give you more than you can handle.

I don't know who started these sayings, it's just what I hear and I'm beginning to think that people make up sayings to make themselves feel better.

The last month of my life, has been the bottom. I've been through a lot of changes, some of them very fast paced. Those changes have brought me to my knees in tears more than once. I've dissapointed friends and loved ones. I've said things I didn't mean to people I loved.

It started when my uncle stopped breathing. When he stopped breathing for the last time. See, I stood at the hospital bed and was strong for the people I loved. I stood there and told him it was okay to let go. I told him that I would be okay, that we would all be okay.

At the funeral, I gave his eulogy without tears. I gave the eulogy of a man that was a surrogate dad to me.

Uncle Ken was a man that took me to lunch and opened doors for me and told me to never accept less than a man that opened the door for me. He was a man that read every article I ever wrote and told me how proud of me he was for my steely determination to make something of myself.

He made me promise once that I would never stop writing. This is the first thing I've written since he took that last breath.

I'm not getting paid to write anymore. During the chaos of the last month, I took over the house that he made a home. I have the dogs that he loved like children. I'm trying to take care of his legacy and that required a move and a job change.

In this house, he brought us together. We laughed and we cried and we yelled. In this house, He talked me out of the anger I had at my god brother, my son, my friend.

He talked me through the tears and told me it wasn't my fault, even if I didn't believe him, I knew he was trying.

I stood in that hospital room and lied when I told him I would be okay without him.

There was a night at a phone company two weeks ago, that caused my rock bottom. I stood there and watched my phone be factory reset (yeah I know, tell me now to make sure I physically back up my phone to the cloud when it was supposed to automatically do it.)

I lost photos, and text messages and voice mails.

Losing those things, something else I could never get back seemed to be more than I could take.

If you've never had a panic attack, let me tell you, people look at you like you're insane. They don't know how to help and when you can't explain what is wrong or why you're freaking out, well....When you can't explain that no, you really, literally can't breath and that each time you try to catch your breath, it's too deep and too fast, which makes it worse.

In this last year of my life, I've lost so much. I've lost faith in some people, I've lost people I loved, I've been hurting so much and losing the sound of his voice, or a text message telling me "thank you for showing me what a loving family I have" physically hurt me.

How do you explain to people that your life doesn't look anymore the way it once did. That you feel like the dreams you had, have been crushed. That you feel ashamed of the actions of people you love and there's a constant ache in your chest.

That next night, I drank way too much and said things to people I love that hurt them. I didnt' want to hurt them. I don't want to hurt them. I want myself to stop hurting. I want to be able to dream big and have faith and remember who I was a year ago.

I want to be the girl that was gonna conquer the world again. Right now she's just lost and I don't know how to help her find her way back.  (yes I just referred to myself in the third person) I want to hear the sound of my laughter and have it be real. I want to smile and light up a room. I want to write and inspire someone to do better and be stronger. I want to have wonderful adventures and share them.

My friend Matt says, that I'm still inside. He says that my dreams aren't gone, they're just going to take a little more time and patience. He's also probably the person I've hurt the most with my words, which makes me more ashamed than I ever thought possible.

There are times that I'm afraid he will never forget the things I said and how much those words hurt and that we will never be who we were before. I can't lose anyone else. Not right now.


Somewhere in all this, I forgot to say that Taylor left for basic training in the Army. So two of the boys I centered my world around for the last 22 years, are gone. Zachary is the only one left for me to take care of and I have a feeling that's only for about year.

At my new job, I realize I'm an oddball.

When people start griping about things I think are petty, things we can't control like (gasp) forced overtime, I say things like "Someday I'm going to walk the gardens at Versailles."

That's the only way I can get through it sometimes, because I know anger is a part of grief. I know it's a stage, but there are times I want to yell at people that if their life sucks so bad, then change it. Because there are so many more things in life that can break you than having a sucky job or having people say stupid shit about you. (FYI, I'm working at the same building as both of my ex-husbands. I make jokes about it because if I talk shit about myself, than other people won't have the opportunity to say hurtful things about me, and right now, there's enough hurt in my life).

I want to stop hurting. I've tried to make that decision, but then I open a drawer and find a box of granola bars that Uncle Ken hid just for me. I pull out a painting that Justin did and wish to god the lesson he learned wasn't such a hard one. I open an app on my phone and find a picture of Gina. I log onto Facebook and see someone post something about my godbrother. I wake up in the mornings and wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. I think about my grandpa's cancer, and how old and frail my granny is.

I worry whether I'm doing the right things by Zachary.

Vicki says my life has seen so many changes and so much loss in such a short period that I should go to grief counseling. I don't think she's wrong, but I don't know where I'd find the time right now and I don't know how I would begin to explain.

Even in writing, I'm having a hard time explaining.


My whole life I've been fighting to be better than who I was the day before. I've worked my butt off to graduate and went through struggles to prove myself as a writer. I've had sleepless nights and days to make sure I was always a mom that attended field trips or gave my kids homemade meals. I was strong. I was determined.

I know it's still there, I just have to find it again. I'm trying.

I stood in that hospital room and lied when I said I'd be okay without him. 

For now, I've already told an editor I will go back to freelancing for a local magazine, which is something I had to give up when I was working at the paper. I can't just stop writing. It's who I am.

Here's another interesting thing that grief has done to me. I want to be loved so bad, but when people try to get closer to me, I shut them down and shoo them away because ....I'm fucked up enough right now that I don't want to drag someone into my turmoil and anger and sadness. I'm afraid that anyone that came into my life, I would just drag them down instead of building them up. 

For now, I'll take care of the legacy. I'll come home from a job where I don't get to use my brain, and I'll play frisbee with the dogs and I'll make this house every bit the home that he made it. For now, I'll get through. For now, I'll smile and fake that I'm okay.

Because someday, I will be okay again. Someday, there will be a real laugh again. Someday, nutri grain bars won't make me cry.

Someday...........

adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: That's life in the city

adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: That's life in the city: My grandpa has a favorite saying, one that I'm not even actually sure he realizes he says a lot. When I am exasperated over traffic, o...

That's life in the city

My grandpa has a favorite saying, one that I'm not even actually sure he realizes he says a lot.

When I am exasperated over traffic, or people or frustrated with life, grandpa often says, "That's life in the city."

He's been saying it most of my life, and I assume it's his way of saying, life happens and the world moves on.

This week has been a drastic turn around from my last post. Much like Ohio weather, many mornings I tell myself, give it ten minutes and it could change.

After horseback riding Saturday, I woke up Sunday determined to have an adventure even if it meant going by myself. That led me to look up abandoned Ohio, and finding Squire Castle.

Squire Castle is in Willoughby Hills, Ohio, and it sits on more than 500 acres of wooded area, and walking, biking and riding trails.

The castle isn't actually a castle. It's the remains of a gatehouse to what would have been a castle, but the property owner died and his wife abandoned the project and sold the land to the Cleveland Metropolitan Parks.

I called my niece and kept my fingers crossed that she would go with me.

Though we got a late start, the adventure turned into a family event. Two car loads of people who I love raced to see the castle.

We got a little lost, but like I told Danny, getting lost is half the adventure sometimes. We also left the walking trail and climbed up a hill (me in flip flops of course).

It was the drive that started to heal me, more than the adventure. Drives with Danny are always filled with laughter, singing and silly skits that we do. That girl is part of my strength sometimes and a great reminder that I have people to be a role model for.

Monday was a rough start, I will admit. I was exhausted and tired, but had a Memorial Day service to cover.

That has a way of putting your life into perspective.  Things can get bad, but there are still people who gave their lives for us to be able to have free speech. I still have two good legs, I still have two good arms, I still am above the ground.

We owe those who have fallen, a great debt of gratitude.

Remember the person I love who stopped breathing? By Monday he was off the vent and breathing on his own and even able to say a few words to me.

The nurse said it was a complete turn around.

Thursday, I had the chance to go to Columbus and see a woman inducted into the Senior Citizens Hall of Fame. Okay, I didn't see her really. She was off to Ukraine on a mission trip to teach English for three weeks.

The woman was one of nine inductees each year, as each person's accomplishments was read I was exhausted by them.

These people were in their 80's, still in good health, still crazy active, still a huge part of their communities, still thriving and learning and teaching!

I hope I'm like that when I'm 86. \

Speaking of people in their 80's...it wouldn't be a trip to Columbus unless I had dinner with Grandpa.

Of course, he's still the master of directions. He gave me quick directions to the restaurant we normally meet at. It was a good dinner. Grandpa always makes me laugh, maybe it's because he's such a pull no punches type person.

Maybe it's cause he's actually wise and because nothing I do really seems to surprise him. Grandpa is one of those people that I'm honest with about things, because I know you can't bullshit him.

As we talked about the boys, I asked, "What am I going to do after they're gone, for real?"

Grandpa said, "Move to a bigger city." He also said that he knows that I will struggle with the decision because I have friends and family where I'm at and I love them.

"You'll have to weigh the decision of whether you want to leave them to grow your own way."

I'm still weighing that, Grandpa.
Three cities in one week, sometimes I do miss the sky scrapers and the 24 hour delivery service of any type of food imaginable. Once in awhile, I miss the lights. Time will tell.

He also joked with me (only half joking) that my FB looks like I drink a lot. I promise that at many of the events I'm at, I'm dead sober. I'm just a wild child sober.

"Grandpa, it's a good thing your generation didn't have social media. I have a feeling yours would have looked a lot like mine."

He actually said, probably.

Last night, I went with one of my best friends to fulfill an adolescent dream. I went to see Nelly, TLC and NKOTB.

We had nosebleed seats, I wanted to smack a couple of people with a cane and remind them their daddies weren't glassmakers, I got to see 30 some year old white woman take selfies through the entire concert....but the show itself was GREAT.

I cried when "T-Boz" and "Chili" said no one will ever take the place of left eye. I sang along to "Creep", "Redlight Special" and "Waterfalls."

When NKOTB came out, I screamed and cheered. When they pulled up a song from 1992, I wanted to go apologize to my adolescent self.

I wanted to go back and tell 13-year old Jennifer, this isn't the end of the world. No matter how dark it seems today, I promise someday you'll be a really cool adult.

I wanted to tell her, you're strong enough to get through life. You're going to have some challenges, you're going to have some struggles, you're going to have days everything goes wrong and days you feel like no one understands why you're angry, why you're hurting and what you're going through.

Maybe part of me went to the concert as I way of telling the little girl I was, hey...you'll find a way.

I wanted to tell her most of all, she's forgiven. 

Cari and I talked about a lot of things. I think one of the things she worries about with me is that I will get so lonely I will settle for the first jerk that comes along and pays me some attention.

No worries. Remember, I'm pretty sure that I've put up with so much crap in life that I'm unwilling to put up with more.

Remember, "I'm funny, smart and cute! Dangit!" I won't forget that.

I guess, I want to give advice to my future self.

I want to remind my future self, there are gonna be some bad days, but you have been through hell and back and still manage to smile.

I want to remind my future self, keep your sense of humor in every situation. Don't react for 24 hours, and if you get to a point in your life, where you find that guy, Don't take him for granted, don't be jealous, and don't get so involved in his life that you forget your girlfriends.

I want to tell my future self, yes things are sagging, you're going gray and sometimes things hurt. Dammit, get outta bed so you can have an adventure and don't forget to get lost once in awhile.

If you get into a situation where you're not sure what to do, ask yourself, "What would Uncle Ken do? What would Uncle Joe do? What would Grandpa do?"

Pick one of their reactions. It's either gonna lead to greatness, or one hell of a story.

Don't ever lose your ability to smile, don't ever lose your ability to laugh, don't ever lose your ability to get over the next hump and don't ever stop learning.

That ladies and gentlemen, is life in the city.