Then there was hope.

I'm overdue for a blog post. I'm aware of this.

I don't always know how to talk about these things without backtracking to when I started this blog.
When I started this blog, I was so excited for my future. I was a mom, a student, an intern, an employee and I was juggling all of those things so well and discovering so many new and exciting things along the way.

Then I was a reporter, and I was living my dream of writing for a living.

Then, life happened.

I have said over and over that the last two years of my life have been my darkest days, my darkest period. I havent always known how to reach out and say "someone help me" an in fact I'm normally very bad at it.
 
This isn't a sad post though, it's a happy one. I'm only talking about the dark things because I need to talk about the panic attacks that happened because of that.

I've always been the type of person that if I was hurting, I shut down and shut people out. I refused to talk about my problems, my sadness, the aches. I tried to fill the hours with work, so that I didn't have to think about the hurting and sadness.

Only, finally those things caught up with me and one day I couldn't breath. I couldn't leave my driveway. I couldn't do all of the million things that I used to do without thinking about them.

I slept for days on end, and sat in my car one night trying to convince myself to simply pull out of the driveway to go see friends. Even that wasn't possible.

I guess for the first time, I'm not ashamed to say that I am in counseling. I'm not ashamed to say that I needed help to get me over the hump. I'm not ashamed to say that I started reaching out to my friends and saying I"m sorry for the times I've shut them out, because I really didn't realize I was doing it.

I am proud to say that I finally have found some light. I finally have found some hope.

My life has been constant change and upheaval the last two years. All of those changes were destructive to me. Now I'm making changes that are positive. Changes that will allow me to grow. 

Through counseling, I started resetting goals. What are the things I want to do with my life?
1. I want to write for a living. One way or the other. That dream may be slow but it is and always has been my number one goal.

2. I want to help teach literacy. I didn't realize that was a goal untilw

3. I want to have many adventures an travel.

4. I want to take a graphic art an design class. 

5. I want to have people who love me.

I guess I always had number five, but when you're hurting sometimes you feel like no one else in the world can understand that pain.

This past week, I can honestly say was the best week I have had in those two years.

I got my certification to teach adult literacy and I meet my first student tomorrow.

I'm writing for "This Is Findlay" Magazine

This past week I went on three adventures!

I went to the Columbus Museum to see the Picasso exhibit, I went to Kirtland for the Vintage Wine Festival, and I went to Fort Wayne to the Zoo.

And yes, two of these adventures were with a special new friend, but I won't discuss that until I'm good and ready, other than to say he is an incredibly sweet person. 

Two months ago none of this would have been possible. Two months ago, I had forgotten who I am.

But now I remember.

I remember that I am a person with dreams. I am a person with goals. I am a person who is not happy unless they are meeting people and trying to explore the outer world.

I know that normally my blog posts are filled with descriptions of the places I've been. They're normally filled with suggestions of adventures you should try.

This post wasn't really about my adventures though.

This post was about having your chest feel literally heavy because of the darkness and then finding a tiny spot of light and pushing that light until it's bigger. Until you can see the world again

I know who I was in all of the "befores" before the last two years and I know who I have been these last two years. I know I'm growing and changing.

I think I'm going to like the woman I become, because I'm working so hard to become her.


By the way, the Picasso exhibit it worth it, if you make it and it's only there until the end of September. So, I would still highly recommend it.

adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: Slaying those dragons

adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: Slaying those dragons: It has been more than 90 days since I sat here in front of my laptop to tell stories about adventures or feelings. It's been more than 9...

Slaying those dragons

It has been more than 90 days since I sat here in front of my laptop to tell stories about adventures or feelings. It's been more than 90 days since I've chosen to reflect on who I am and where my path leads, both good and bad. Yet, here I am again.

I am sure that there are people who are wondering, have wondered, what types of adventures I was up to. What types of things I wasn't sharing. What glorious life lesson had I learned.

Let me tell you a story. I'll try to keep it brief as I know the average attention span of Americans today is three minutes.

This story is about a woman, who had lost everything. One of her best friends committed suicide two years earlier. She lost a god brother to heroin addiction, two sons, one to stupid bad decisions and one to the military to get sent several continents away. During that time, she switched jobs, from a job she loved, to a job she hated, in order to keep a house that her uncle who died had wanted her to have.

Are we following me so far? Does this girl seem familiar?

This woman at the beginning of January met a guy. This guy will go nameless, but she thought he was really something. Maybe because she had already lost so much in her life, in her mind she gave him super powers he didnt have.

Maybe in her mind, she gave him the superpower ability to heal her.  Only, he didn't heal her. AS we all know, no one can really heal another person and it was only a short matter of time before he realized his inability to heal her and called it quits.

I will defend him and say, it wasn't his fault. He's a nice guy, not a bad guy. but one person cannot handle that much emotion.

I said some hateful words to him at the end, words he didn't deserve from my mouth.

So here's the truth. If you had met me a month ago, you wouldn't have recognized me.

The woman you all have known that went on adventures, and smiled a huge smile and couldn't wait to meet new people and learn new exciting things? She was gone.

She had been buried underneath a rubble of stress and sadness, grief, and anger. So much anger.

In her place was a woman that woke up, saw what time it was, looked at her phone and cried before rolling over to go back to bed.

In her place, was a woman who wondered, what it would feel like to just....not exist. Would it be dark? Would I be reunited with the loved ones I lost ?

And here, here it is. What I say is, don't judge this next part. You havent lived my story.

I drove around late one night, perfectly sober, but with the feelings and emotions as if I had drank a fifth of whiskey. I cried as I drove and text several people, desperate to reach out to any human contact that would hold my hand for a night.

As I drove, I thought, "I don't want anyone to be as angry at me as I was at my friend."
I started thinking about the letters I would write to the people who have loved me, begging them for forgiveness but telling them I couldn't take the hurt anymore.

I prayed to the God that I grew up learning about and asked him to just stop this hurt. I railed against him for letting me hurt so much anyway. I haven't been a bad person, what did I do to deserve so much pain and not deserve love

That thought of people being that angry at me, and hurting that much is what finally propelled me to call a counselor the next day.

And so here is another adventure. This adventure is a lot more subdued than chasing castles, or horseback riding. It isn't an adventure to the unknown. This adventure is an adventure in healing.

In the first two hour session, my counselor lifted something about my friends suicide off my shoulders.

For two years, I had walked around hating myself for not being there. I had walked around hating myself for not saving her. That has always been my job with the people I loved, wasn't it, to save them? To heal them?

For two years I had walked around with my head held down, knowing....I failed. I failed several of the people I loved with my inability to save them, from themselves and from life.

One session lifted that off my back. I won't go into full details about that session. Let's just say I ugly a river of tears and lifted my head just a little higher.

Fast forward a month. I've taken several steps on my own to begin healing. Including, switching jobs again. This time to a job I'm a little more comfortable with. It's not my dream job, but that will come with time.

I reconnected with an aunt that has been my emotional strength through most of my life. The last few months though, we hadn't been close and i felt like I had lost her in my life too.  That day five hours of healing tears were cried.

The counselor says my emotions have been like a box. The box was full to overflowing and I couldn't cram anything else into them, but kept trying.

I kept not wanting other people to see what was in that box. I didn't want to burden people with that box. I didn't want to hurt people, or anger people. 

I thought I was supposed to be the strong one. I was supposed to be the one that heals other people and takes care of other  people. I am supposed to be the champion, the dragon fighter, the superhero in other peoples stories.

There's never been a time in my life when I wasn't able to do that, until all of these things.

These days, I look forward  to jumping out of bed  and finding my next adventure. I look forward to meeting new people and hearing their stories, and sometimes they are as interesting as mine.

Speaking of meeting people, as I unpack these old hateful and hurtful emotions, I am unpacking to make room for someone real in my life. To dive with both feet.

I know not who this nameless and faceless person will be, only that I am finally open to real possibilities and opportunities rather than giving it only mouth value with no action.

The pain, the grief, it is still there. There are still certain dates, hearing random phrases, or even not being able to hug my boys and tell them I love them anytime I want, that brings me to tears.

There are moments where there is still an overwhelming sadness, but they are moments, rather than entire days spend underneath a blanket begging for release from this world.

I know not what my next adventure will be, where I will go in this world. I still don't know what this next year will bring as even more changes are underway with my youngest son graduating.

What I now know, is I am my own dragon slayer. I am the superhero of my own stories. My smile is back. My hope and belief that good can overcome the evils of the world. I'm back.

Do you know what my first adventure was? My first adventure is the fact that for the first time in four months, I sat down and wrote these words.

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.