A New Year, A New Chapter

As the new year approaches I find myself doing the cliché thing of considering what my personal goals and expectations are in the next year. I used to do the typical "New Year's Resolution" and pretty much always failed at least 3 or 4 months into the new year. So for the past several years my only resolution has been to "love myself".  

I knew in my heart that a goal of that magnitude was a lofty one and would potentially take years to achieve. But as I set this goal for myself I also resolved to be patient about it. I know that to destroy is quick and simple, but to rebuild something...that takes time, hard work, and dedication. 

It's been a roller coaster, but I suppose that's just the way life is. Except that, for some of us, the slope down can be as deep as the depths of hell. The past couple years in particular were quite difficult for me. A huge life change sent me, unexpectedly, into a deep dark place and I was afraid I wouldn't find my way out this time. I learned some things about myself that were both troubling and hard to accept, but at the same time have provided me with answers to questions I've had about myself for a very long time. And in this epiphany, if you will, I found hope.

And because of yoga, running, a deeply devoted husband, amazing friends, and my family, I survived the deep dark. There aren't words to describe my relief; that I can look back now and rejoice in the fact that I am not where I was before. That I am breathing, seeing, touching, and actually feeling something other than despair. I have found my way back to joy. It will be a battle I will likely fight my whole life as I have been to the deep dark many times already. My most recent visit though might have been one of the scariest and had it not been for my desperate attempt to hold on for the sake of my son...well I might not be writing this. That was a scary place to be and I really don't want to visit it ever again. 

So as I face this next year I consider what else I want to improve of myself, and honestly, I think that at this point I'm old enough to "just keep swimming". What I mean is that I kind of just have the same goals every year, but just want more of the same, to improve on the things I'm already focusing on. I know I want to continue my practice in yoga and running. Those two things have become my life force. They are like drugs. I find myself euphoric after a run and yoga centers me and calms the fire within. I need them as much as a diabetic needs insulin. 

Here are my other "resolutions":

I want to continue to work on being more empathetic and having unconditional positive regard for others. Sometimes I find myself getting lost in the rush of daily life and forget to consider that the guy who parked inches away from my car door, probably (hopefully) didn't do it to just intentionally be an ass. Or the lady checking me out at Walmart who seems extraordinarily slow and apathetic. I could be annoyed and angry with her for her sloth-like movement, but maybe she's upset about something, or maybe she doesn't feel the best and doesn't want to be at work. Or the waitress who seems to keep forgetting my drink and hasn't really checked in much. Maybe she's preoccupied with grief or is lost in a flurry of worried thoughts and isn't doing her job as well as she typically does. It's important to try to see things from a different view and to try to avoid the negative fundamental attribution error. Just be kind and remember how you'd want to be treated if you were in a state of distress or just made a mistake. 

I want to keep trying to remember to see people. It makes me sad to observe so often that many people treats others as though they are not really there, not a person with a story, not a human with feelings. I find it extraordinarily powerful when I look someone in the eye and give them a genuine smile or use their name. They light up in front of me and I am reminded that it's much more important for me to do what I can to make them feel seen and appreciated than it is for me to gain a few minutes in my day. In the rush of life I sometimes forget that other people are as human as I am and most are not jerks. Of course there are some people out there who really are jerks, but I will continue to work on not taking their actions personally. Most people who treat others poorly do so because they aren't happy themselves or have some internal struggle that makes them bitter and sour. I won't let them bring me down. 

I want to continue to challenge myself to be open-minded and listen. For the most part I feel like I am a pretty good listener. Not always, I'll admit. Sometimes I get lost inside my own mind and don't hear or listen to those who need me to. I can be dismissive at times. I suppose it's okay for me to be that way sometimes as any individual sometimes needs to just worry about themselves for a span in order to deal with whatever it is they are dealing with. And sometimes my emotional response to certain things will cloud my ability to be a good listener or to be open-minded. 

I want to continue to work on improving my patience and dulling my fierce temper. This is probably the hardest one (aside from trying to swear less). Yoga has actually helped me quite a bit in area. Ally Hamilton's classes in particular always come with some inspirational, therapeutic, fortune cookie type message and somehow I always pick the perfect one for exactly what I need that day (I know I talk about her a lot, and that might annoy some readers, but she has helped me unknowingly in ways I never dreamed possible for my life...so #sorrynotsorry!). Learning to breathe has been one of the hardest and most powerful things for me. And her books, Yoga's Healing Power: Looking Inward for Change, Growth, and Peace and Open Randomly: Fortune Cookies for the Soul) have also been incredibly helpful as well as inspirational for me. (I might be kind of in love with her. haha)

As I continue to age and mature I find that I care less and less about what people think of me. At least in the sense of aesthetics (what people think about how I look, dress, or how many tattoos I have...etc.), my personal life choices, how I choose to raise my child, and the things I value, believe in, or don't believe in. In that regard I really don't care what people think. However, I do still care on other, more broad levels what people think of me. I don't want people to think of me as mean, spiteful, or disingenuous. I don't want people to think I am unkind or untrustworthy. So, I guess on some level I do care what people think of me. But I could be Ghandi-like and some people would still think me lesser and spit at my feet. So, I won't fret over other people's opinions of me, particularly if they hardly know me at all. 

In general, I want the same thing for the coming year that I wanted last year, the year before that, and for all my years from this day forward; to be a person I won't regret being when I face the end, to be someone that people will miss and have fond memories of, to be someone who wove goodness into the world and the lives of others, and to have lived a life that I can be proud of. 

Letting Go

Someone said to me the other day that they thought "letting go" meant to stop loving someone. I kindly informed them that this is not the case. But it sent me into some deep thoughts, and I thought I might share them with you. The Christmas season tends to spark my dwelling on things like this anyway.

I guess I am old enough now to be "wise", but I think I have always been considered "wise beyond my years". That kind of comes as a side dish with a dysfunctional childhood and trauma, I suppose. But yes...I guess I am wise, because I know this sort of heartache. The kind that never really ever goes away. It's like a cramp in your soul. A kink in your spirit. A scar on your heart. It never heals completely really. It never goes away. 

"Letting go" may quite possibly be one of the hardest things to do. Letting go of someone because of death...letting go of someone because the relationship you have with them is poisonous... That shit is hard. And, in a sense, you never really let go. Not truly. You let go enough to be able to survive. You let go enough to move forward. You let go enough...but never completely. 

My first real "letting go" was when I lost my grandfather. He was so much to me. He was everything. He wasn't supposed to die so soon. And I still think of him pretty much every day. I can still hear his voice in my mind. I still know his smell. Sometimes in my dreams he visits me and I get to hear him call out my name again. He's always there to encourage me, to push me to be my best, to scold me when I have completely fucked up. But I thank him for that. He was special. 

I "let go" of my fathers at different times. I let go of my bio dad when I was around 13. He was never the father I wanted. Never there. Never showing me how he cared or that he even really knew I existed. I was forced to let go of my step-father. That one was hard. He has struggled for years and years with substance abuse and it finally got to a point where I just couldn't handle picking him up off the floor anymore. My heart couldn't take it. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't watch him kill himself. 

But letting go of those people doesn't mean I ever stopped loving them. Not in the least. I still love my step dad with great ferocity. He was my real dad. He was the one who showed up...at least for a while. He was the one who picked me up and mended my skinned knees. He was the one who was "there". He means a lot to me. And now that I am older I understand what it means to let go, but still love. Because I always have that door open for him to come back. I will never stop hoping for him to walk through it. I understand that he is a slave to his own faults and I understand how hard it is to overcome them. But he is and will always be my "Daddy".

Letting go doesn't mean you stop loving them, not always. Sometimes it does. But often that is not the case. And when you face this kind of challenge it isn't easy, and it never really becomes easy. You just sort of go on with life and in time it just becomes a part of you. A dull longing. Something that doesn't hurt quite as much as the initial cut, but still hurts in a way. And you hold it, like a firefly in your hands, with great care and delicacy. You hold it, because in the end...you sort of never really let go. Not completely. 

What Do You Want To Dream About Tonight?

It just occurred to me that whenever my son has trouble settling down at night, whether because of typical childhood fears, or not getting enough attention that day, or a major routine change, the magic words that always seem to bring him to serenity are "What do you want to dream about tonight?".

His focus begins to shift to some of his favorite things in life...Grams, candy canes, Santa, the marble game, Christmas (these are the things on his list right now). And suddenly he relaxes. He focuses on the positives instead of the creepy shadow that his curtains are making. He goes to bed thinking of the things he is most thankful for.

It's simple really. Just remembering the things you are thankful for every night. But somehow we, as adults, we forget. We forget to be thankful for the little things. We forget to think positively and remember that no matter how stormy life gets, there are rainbows.

It's something I forget to do more often than I'd like to admit. I suppose our kids teach us almost as much as we teach them.

The Pursuit of Happiness: A Journey Toward Self Love

Every Journey Starts With A Single Step

For the record, I believe, that a journey like this never really ends. Well, when I die it will end I suppose, but in the spirit of focusing more on the positive aspects of this concept we will just ignore that truth for right now.

Learning to love ones self might be one of our greatest life challenges. At least, I know it has been for me, and I can think of a number of women and men who can relate for certain. It is a long and arduous journey, but worth it. Sometimes it helps to hear a little anecdote about someone else's journey. It might be the one thing that sparks hope inside your heart and pushes toward active pursuit of happiness.

My story begins around age 1. As in most stories of personal growth, it typically starts with pain. At this young age I was already beginning a path of pain and heartache. I don't remember the details (I was only 1 after all...), but around this age was when my mother decided it was time to leave an abusive relationship with my biological father only to fall into the arms of another man who became emotionally and sometimes physically abusive as well. So, you could say my journey starts with abandonment. The people I needed most in my life to be there, to love me unconditionally, well they weren't there. My mom did her best, and she did enough to counteract some of the harms caused, but it wasn't enough. My biological father disappeared from my life and later only became a part of it because he wouldn't have to pay child support while I was visiting. He was mean and mostly made me feel like my existence was as annoying as a fly buzzing in your face. He was an alcoholic and very abusive both emotionally and physically towards his romantic partners/wives. He was never directly mean to me or abusive, but his overall tone of "God I wish I didn't have to deal with you" kind of set the tone for how I felt he felt about me. He forgot my birthdays. He did not call. And like a foolish child, I longed for his love. I yearned for him to care about me...to validate that my existence meaningful and important. I yearned for his love until I was about 13. Then at that point I gave up.

Meanwhile, my step-father started out as a pretty decent guy. He cared about me when I was little and treated me like I was his own child. He and my mother got married and went on to have two more children. Over the years, he progressively became a giant asshole. He too was an alcoholic and extremely emotionally abusive. I longed for his approval. He told me I was fat all the time and teased me about the way I looked. When I actually did have something I felt confident about (like singing) he always found some fault in it. I became a perfectionist who was terrified of failure. Because the message I had been given for the majority of my life was "If you aren't perfect you are worth nothing and no one can love you". I spent most of my childhood depressed and angry. I wasn't a nice girl. I was mean, a bully, and hateful. I cried a lot and screamed often. I don't remember many happy things at all. I want to. I don't know if I just don't remember them or they just weren't there.

I spent a lot of time hating myself and being critical. I would stand in front of the mirror on a daily basis just hating myself. I would say things to myself that I would never ever say to another human being. I would cry. Like really cry.

This self-hate and absence of confidence impacted all aspects of my life. I made terrible choices in relationships. I believe no one would ever really love me so I would sabotage things sometimes to fulfill my own prophecy of being unworthy and force people to abandon me. I avoided trying new things for fear of failure. I was easily manipulated and taken advantage of. And I spent a lot of time in my head worrying about what other people thought of me.

My mom always tried to tell me that I was perfect just the way I was. That I was good inside and kind. That I was worthy of love. But I never believed her. And it even got to the point where I would get angry and lash out at her if she even tried to convince me of these things. I could not believe them. There was too much evidence to the contrary. But I must say now that I am so glad she kept trying to convince me...because it was this small voice deep down inside, screaming as loud as possible, that helped me find my footing eventually and guided me (albeit very slowly) toward loving myself.

It's really kind of sad to put in perspective exactly how much of my life I have spent hating myself. 25 years of loathing. 25 years. If I live to be 100, that's a quarter of my life.

The pivot point for me began in graduate college. Grad school can make or break you, not just academically, but emotionally as well. It most certainly put me to the test in just about every way possible. It was the biggest challenge to my self-doubt that I had ever really faced.

I chose a helping profession so in that I began attending classes to learn how to provide counseling support for future students. Little did I know that it would change me in ways I never dreamed. My first real challenge came in an unlikely place...group counseling class. I don't remember exactly how it came about, but there was an activity where the group wrote a note to someone else in the group saying positive things about them. None of these people knew me, I mean not really. We were acquaintances sharing a class together. We barely knew each other at all. But the words written on that little blue post-it note hit my heart like a freight train. This person didn't know me from Adam, but somehow she was able to see positive things in me and about me that I refused to recognize for myself. This was the first crack in my self-made, hateful armor. I kept that post-it note on my vanity mirror for several years after that. I vowed to keep it up there until I believed with my own heart that those words about me were true. It stayed on my mirror for 7 years.

Evolving from the person I was to the person I am now was not easy, and clearly it was not fast. But I was committed to finding true happiness, and I knew the only way to find that was to fall in love with the most important person in my life...me.

Finding Solace in Fitness

My journey of fitness started with the desire to lose weight. This, in my humble opinion, is the wrong way to approach it. If this is the reason you lose weight and you only do it when you feel fat, then you are going to be riding that awful roller coaster for a long time my friend. And I assure you, it is not thrilling in the least. I found that it actually made me feel worse about myself. I was always starting over and in doing so always seeming to myself like I am a failure. Mix in with that roller coaster some very unhealthy eating (or not eating) habits and you're really in for a rough ride. It isn't fun, fulfilling, or rewarding. I don't recommend this approach.

I was a size 5 once. "Skinny fat" is what I've heard it called. I took ephedrine and pretty much lived on Starbucks and booze. I counted calories, not nutrition. i was skinny, and rather gorgeous (if I might say so myself), but I only looked good on the outside. On the inside I was a wreck with self-hate and suffocating self-hate. Then my grandfather died. My heart shattered and I fell into a downward spiral of bingeing and depression. I gained a lot of weight very quickly (it is much easier to gain it than it is to lose).

I really don't know for certain the exact day I began to look at my body and not hate it. Sure I was overweight, but at some point I stopped caring about that. Not in the sense that I just "let myself go" but in the sense that I could look at my chubs and not crumble with despair. I looked at them and thought to myself, "I am in control of this. It is not in control of me. And I will not be defined by my body."

When I got pregnant I got HUGE! I was already overweight then I packed on a baby and shit ton of amniotic fluid. I approached 200 pounds. I was terrified. I could not let myself go past that number. I just couldn't.

During my pregnancy I was also blessed with gestational diabetes (GD). This was sort of a wake-up call for me. I learned that women who have GD are 50% (50%!!) more likely to develop full on diabetes in the future if they do not care for themselves. During my pregnancy, with GD, I was forced to eat healthy and have a restricted diet. I did it for my child. I did it for me. And I discovered...it really isn't all that bad. Eating healthier made me feel better both emotionally and physically. It also altered my palette, so the less healthy foods became less appealing to me.

After the birth of my son I did the ever so painful Insanity program by Shaun T (who is freaking awesome btw). I also started doing yoga.

Now, yoga is special to me. The first time I did a class with Ally Hamilton (who is one of the most amazing humans on Earth...in my opinion) and it was like she knew my heart. She spoke to me in savasana and I wept. She hit me right in the feels. I have been in love with her and the practice ever since. Yoga does more for me than nurture my physical self, but it also nurtures my soul. Each minute I spend with my mat is a minute of exhalation. All the tightness in my heart is let loose. I breathe. I feel. I challenge myself. I stretch. It is sort of a spiritual experience for me as well as a natural drug. It has become part of my life. It's not just something I've picked up that I'll do until I hit that size 5 again (which is probably not very likely to happen since I now actually have muscle mass instead of just squishies). It is important to me. I make time for it. I need it.

Then there's running. Oh god I love running. I started running about 5 years ago because stress was causing me to have panic attacks again and I needed an outlet. I'm a bottler. I tend to stuff my stress down until there's no more room and I just explode with rage. So, instead of stuffing, I began running. Running got me out in nature (which is also cathartic for me), it wasn't stationary and dull, and, like yoga, became a drug. After a good run I feel like a great weight has been lifted. I feel alive. I feel young. I feel focused and inspired (in fact, this post was inspired by my morning run today!). Running makes me feel good. I can continually challenge myself and I get to feel accomplished. And WOW what a feeling that is. After doing my first fun run this fall I felt like I was on top of the world. I can do anything!

Fitness has become my therapy. Well, one of them anyway. I struggle with a lot of issues in addition to self-loathing and doubt so I have a lot of coping practices in my little bag of tricks, which is actually really important for anyone. This way, if you are for some reason unable to use one of your favorite coping activities, you can do a different one and still get the relief you need.

Sometimes I Slip

The other day I was getting ready to take my son somewhere and my hair was not cooperating so I threw it up in a bun, which also was not cooperating. I didn't feel super thrilled with the result and started having negative thoughts, criticizing how I looked and how others might look at me and judge me negatively. I caught myself and said out loud, "No, you stop that! You don't care what those people think about your damn hair. You are more than just your hair so knock it off. You know better than that." I talk to myself out loud a lot when I need a good pep talk or scolding. It works for me. I'm not ashamed. 

But the bottom line here is that I am human. And as a human I am inherently riddled with flaws. But those flaws are what makes me me. Sometimes I slip, fall, stumble...but as long as I get back up again and hold my head up high I am going to be ok. I remind myself all the time that what I say to myself should be the same as what I would say to a stranger, to my son, and to people I love. Loving myself is just as important as loving anyone else. In fact, it might be even more important. Because I truly believe that when you do not love yourself, you approach life and its situations in a completely different way. The language becomes "I can" instead of "I can't"; "I'll try." instead of "I'm too afraid to fail to try."; "I am worthy of love and being treated with respect and dignity." instead of "I deserve this punishment and no one can love me."

To Be Continued

This journey of self-discovery and self-love doesn't end. At least it won't for me. I'll never stop trying to better myself. I'll never give up on myself ever again. And while I walk this path it is my hope that I will greet others along the way, and they will join me on their own journey to fall in love with the most important person in their life; themselves.

I Am More

     Motherhood is most definitely one of the best "jobs" I have ever had. At the same time, being a mommy (especially a SAHM) can make one feel as though they have lost themselves or become invisible in a way. We are always so busy taking care of our littles that we don't often get the opportunity to be seen by others as something other than just a mom. As a working mom, I hated having to leave my son, but I also really loved being able to have adult conversations and be appreciated for the work I did. It made me feel good to feel as though I was doing something important (not that being a mom isn't important, but typically no one makes an effort to show us we are appreciated).
     This year I have finally been able to sneak in some time for me to do things I want to do like volunteer. It's really the only sort of thing that I can do because right now my schedule doesn't have much flexibility. I'd have to find a sitter that will watch him for free so that can be a challenge. The first day I volunteered at our local children's museum I broke down in tears on my way home. Why? Well, besides the fact that I am a very emotional person, I finally felt like someone saw me. Like really saw me. I finally had conversations that weren't solely about my son with other adults that seemed to appreciate my presence. It made my heart swell with joy.
     I'm probably in my final year of being a SAHM. My son will begin preschool so I will have to go back to work at least part time. I'm trying to do as much volunteering as I can. It's kind of become a bit of an addiction. I feel useful. People are nice to me. I get to work with kiddos a little bit. Well, actually, the most interaction with kiddos I've had so far is when I volunteered to be the check-in lady at the holiday event. Otherwise, I've mostly just done crafting projects, but I love being helpful so it's totally cool with me.
     In any case, I know the ladies at the museum have no idea how much it means to me that they allow me to come do their bidding for a few hours here and there. But it means a great deal. It makes me feel like a person again. Like I'm still useful. Not just a housewife or a mom, but something a little bit more.

Ideas For Adding Coins to Your Piggy Bank

     One thing I have noticed as a fairly typical trend of SAHMs is the compulsion, need, desire to contribute to the family money bucket. Most of the ladies I know are like me...once strong independent female leads, now strong independent female leads that don't work (in the typical sense. We definitely WORK as SAHMs!!)
     So, what do we do? Well, many of us get roped into those lovely pyramid schemes...or wait they're called multi-level marketing "opportunities". (Please take no offense here...I do not mean to offend) I get it. They seem very appealing and fairly convincing. However, I have a general rule...if i have to give you my money in order for me to try to make money it's a deal breaker. Not to mention the fact that I'd be selling to people I know...all of whom are pretty tight on money themselves or already wrapped up in the same scheme. I try really hard to be respectful of anyone who chooses to participate in this sort of thing. It's their choice, and they might actually be good enough to make a few dollars. I get invitations all the time to buy from my friends and I generally tell them no (because if I can't buy from everyone I like, I can't buy from anyone. I did the same thing with anything students were trying to sell to raise money for school or girl scouts or whatever. It seems only fair). Not to mention the fact that I find it very difficult to part with my money. There are some ladies that take it pretty seriously and spam my email and facebook page...that sort of thing just kind of pisses me off and makes me even less likely to buy from them. Believe me, if I had the money to share I would spread it around like the herpes virus! Why? Well, because I care about my friends and would want to do what I can to help them out. But, I'm in the same boat they are, so it doesn't really work.
     Pyramid schemes are out for me. I just can't. So I've tried to find alternatives. Small contributions to our family budget while also allowing extreme flexibility. This has led me to discover a lot of very legit work-from-home opportunities actually, but few that provide the sort of flexibility I require as a SAHM of a 3-year-old. Thus, I have settled for (drum roll please...) survey taking! It is almost as boring and mind numbing as it sounds. But I can whip out a little survey in a short time while I'm not otherwise occupied, earning me $.50 here and there, sometimes more.
     In the spirit of sharing with my fellow SAHMs I'll share some of my favorite ones and most "profitable".

Walmart Savings Catcher app: This is not an app in and of itself, but a component of the Walmart app (available on android (my preference ;) ) and whoever else does apps). This one is great if you frequent Walmart as much as I do. Scan your receipts and Walmart will pay you the difference if a competitor's price is lower than theirs on any given product. When you are ready to cash out you get a Walmart gift card/code and can use that again to purchase items as Walmart. (win win win)

MintVine: This is a survey site, primarily geared towards marketing research. I get a fair amount of surveys on here and there are plenty of ways to earn points. This one pays out in a variety of ways; gift cards, dwolla, or paypal.

YouGov: Another survey site, but this one has more than marketing questions. There are a lot of questions about current topics in the news and events going on. You can also connect with others (anonymously) in a social aspect and share your opinions on certain things. It's actually kind of fun (if you're a huge nerd like me when it comes to social issues and politics). You can kill a lot of time on this site if you let yourself. There are constant polls and surveys. The more you participate the more they get to know you and what they want to learn from you. Earn points and payout is on gift cards for a variety of companies, including Amazon (which is my second most frequented store so this works well for me).

OnePoll: This one I like, but has low payout. It might be because I'm not in the target pool right now as a consumer. But I don't get a survey very often so I haven't been able to collect a lot on this one. Payout on this one is via Paypal.

Google Opinion Rewards app: Survey app. These are usually very short surveys. Payout is in Google Play credit. I love this because it allows me to rent movies from Google Play for free once I have collected enough points. Right now I'm working on collecting points so we can watch Finding Dory!! The unfortunate thing about this one is that the surveys are few and far between. I maybe get a survey pop up about once a week, sometimes less than that.

iPoll app: Again, available in android and other. A survey app that can be very profitable depending on your commitment to completing surveys. They have it set up so that you can basically sit on there all day (if you can handle that) and constantly take survey after survey. Payout is in gift cards to various stores.

SurveyMini: This is another good survey app, but like some of the others, it doesn't pop up with a survey for me very often. Payout is store gift cards as well on this one.

     So far, I've earned probably a total of about $10 give or take. I've only been doing them for a few days and I only do them if I have free time. So considering that, it's not the worst thing. It's better than making zero contributions to the family money bucket. There are a lot of other work from home opportunities out there that I never even thought about. Many of them require time commitment though, which makes it hard for me. However, when my son starts school next fall (sniff) it will at least open up possibilities for me if I am unable to get a job in human services related to my field of study. If anyone is interested in other ideas I would recommend that you peruse reddit.com/r/beermoney or reddit.com/workonline.

Best of luck to you all!!

Three Helpful Household Items For The "Crafty" Mom

Ok, I'm just going to be straight up honest here...I am not crafty. I try to be sometimes, but mostly I suck at it. I have friends that can create beauty out of the broken and art out of the discarded. Me? I have aspirations of that level of creativity and praiseworthy results, but sometimes it's important to accept that no matter how hard you try...there are going to be things you just suck at no matter how much effort you put into it. While trying out different pinterest failures I have discovered a few useful things.

Puff Paint is almost as useful as duct tape. I started out using it to put a slip proof grip on the bottom of my child's footy pajamas. Then his socks. It also works great for headbands that tend to slip. I am going to try this on the bottom of my trash can too. Right now I have sticky tack and it works, but leaves gross sticky crap all over that collects gross. (This is used to prevent constant slippage from pushing on the foot pedal of the trash bin.)



If you make a glitter bottle, don't use hot glue to glue the lid on. There is science here I don't understand, but it did not seal it enough to prevent the liquid from pushing its way out when temperatures change. So instead, use epoxy. Be committed, because it will never ever open again once its epoxied. But no more leaky glitter bottle. As a side, the glitter bottle has worked really well for calming times of overwhelming emotion or to help my son wind down at night when getting ready for bed. I have used it as a distraction/redirection/calming tool for both my son and my nephew. I don't use it all the time. Mostly in novelty situations where other techniques have failed. I worry if it's used too often it will become less effective.



A stitch ripper (that's what I call them anyway) can be a very useful item in your home when you have a child. Especially if you have a child that is sensitive to every bothersome texture and tag known to man. Sometimes you can rip the stitches out on a tag so that it comes off nice and clean. Other times, your only option is scissors. (Puff paint or permanent markers come in handy here too if you want to mark on the clothing somewhere what size it is for later use once the tag has been removed.)



That's all for now. Happy Parenting!!

101 Things I Am Thankful For

   

[TLDR: I am thankful for at least 101 things]

     Tis the season to be thankful! A friend of mine wrote 101 things she was thankful for. It was moving and inspirational. And after recent events (crazy shitty presidential election...), well it got me thinking a lot about the things I have. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I get too focused on the things we don't have. But I have much to be thankful for and these are just a few.

1. My husband. He is so patient and is such a great father. He works hard to support our family. He sticks by me no matter what. Sometimes we fight...because we're married and when you live with another human being that will happen, no matter how much you love each other. But he is always willing to figure it out.

2. My son. He is my anchor. He is my life. He is my heart walking around outside my body. I love him so much more than I ever imagined was possible. I never thought I would be able to become a mother and I am grateful every day for his existence.

3. My family in general. My family is awesome. They are loud, sometimes obnoxious, and loyal to the core. They would lay down on a grenade for me. They are the foundation of my soul. Without them I don't know where I would be right now. Some of them have been there with me through my darkest days, never judging, and always forgiving. They embody what unconditional love really is. I love them so much.

I even got really lucky and acquired really amazing in-laws over the years. all of my sibling-in-laws are incredibly amazing people. They are so special to me. And I actually don't fit the stereotype of the wife with the crazy and annoying mother-in-law. I love my mother-in-law. She's the most thoughtful, generous, and compassionate lady I know. She sees the good in all things. She is a beautiful soul and I adore how much my son loves her. My father-in-law, I love him dearly. He's kind of like a dad to me in a way. I had two growing up and both of those guys kind of checked out on me, so, he's there. We have too much in common and sometimes we irritate each other. But despite that, I know he loves me.

4. Alcohol

5. Clean water

6. A quaint little roof over my head

7. The Kingkiller Chronicles & The Slow Regard of Silent Things





8. Harry Potter



9. Being able to feed and clothe my family

10. Friends - like real ones, not just the ones you acquire on Facebook. The ones who ask you how you're doing every now and then. The ones who listen when you need someone to listen. The ones who are always there. The ones who hold you up when you can't do it yourself.

11. Forgiveness - I f*ck up a lot.

12. Being able to stay at home with my son while he's growing up (too fast).

13. Having two vehicles.

14. Having a privacy fence.

15. Pizza

16. Mellowcreme pumpkin candies



17. Finished walls.

18. Netflix

19. Clean air to breathe every single day.

20. Nebraska and all its beauty.

21. Husker Football

22. My nephew.

23. A warm bed at night.

24. Heat in the winter.

25. The internet

26. Autumn leaves piled all around and crunching beneath my feet.

27. Running

28. The Colorado Mountains

29. Random acts of kindness.

30. My son's curiosity.

31. Caffeine

32. My smart phone

33. Being able to order food delivered to my front door! Oh Dominos...I love you so much.

34. Flowers

35. Sunsets and Sunrises

36. Good credit

37. Apps that make my life more organized and easier. (Pepperplate, Google Keep, Google Calendar)

38. Music streaming services

39. Shoes

40. Vaccines

41. My doggy right after she has been bathed.

42. My deep bath tub. And hot hot HOT water.

43. The scent of vanilla.

44. Firefly



45. That my sister-in-law is a freaking amazing and talented stylist who does an outstanding job on my hair.

46. Sanuk sandals

47. Did I mention the Kingkiller Chronicles?

48. Ibuprofin

49. My kindle

50. Ally Hamilton

51. Yoga

52. That I have time in my days to run or do yoga.

53. People that aren't assholes.

54. Morning snuggles with my son.

55. Reading to my son.

56. Listening to my son read to me.

57. Doctors

58. Corrective lenses

59. Cameras

60. The sound of a thunderstorm.

61. The scent of morning, especially after rain.

62. Trees

63. Reddit

64. Quilts

65. Music

66. The sounds my son makes when he's fake crying.

67. Being able to hear my son say, "I love you."

68. Kisses

69. Hugs. It's a little weird that I am thankful for hugs. I have "personal space issues". I'm always unsure about hugs. But when I get one, my heart feels so happy. I feel connected and cared about.

70. That my son thinks poop and farts are as funny as I do.

71. Buckwheat pillows



72. Electricity

73. Skinny jeans

74. Living in a "city" versus a small, isolated, rural town. Although, I do miss the sunsets I used to be able to see.

75. The lessons and memories I hold of my grandparents.

76. Hope

77. Handkerchiefs

78. Sporks (Seriously people, why is this not a thing. It's so nice to have one tool for multiple jobs!)



79. The feeling of super soft fluffy carpet under my bare toes.

80. Things that glow in the dark.

81. Pies made by my mother-in-law.

82. Chocolate

83. Strawberries

84. Neighbors I don't hate.

85. That I was so lucky as to have been given a honeymoon in Hawaii.

86. Gifts with no strings attached because they are given with love, not an agenda.

87. The sounds of a tent at night when you're camping.

88. The smell of a campfire.

89. Bear spray

90. (Have people really even read this far? Kudos to you if you have!) Rainbows

91. Those beautiful sunny days where the sky is a rich blue and the clouds are all puffy and joyful.

92. Wooden train sets

93. The local children's museum.

94. Fun runs

95. Having a partner to do fun runs with for-eva!!

96. Siblings to grow up with. Sometimes we really beat the hell out of each other, but we loved each other with the same level of ferocity. And if anyone tried to mess with any of us, there would be hell to pay.

97. Being a citizen of the USA.

98. Having the right to be educated, to vote, or to be employed as a woman.

99. Being able to teach one person for another generation how to be kind, helpful, compassionate, generous, thoughtful, and open-minded.

100. November days that are so nice, I can go outside in a tank top. (Although I feel a little guilty about that...global warming and all. I mean..I do want snow at Christmas, but damn I hate being cold!)

101. And last, but certainly not least, and definitely not the last one by far. There is so much to be thankful for. I think that if everyone at least tried to see the bright side of a situation we'd all be a wee bit happier. But getting back to the completion of my short list. ;) I am thankful for being alive. To be able to tell people I love them. To be able to do a kindness for someone I don't know or someone I do. To maybe weave some goodness into this ugly world. To live a life of purpose, however small it may seem the impact is. It means something. It means that humanity is not lost. And we should never ever let it die.

Ideas For The Minimalistic Christmas

It's that time of year already! Gifting season has begun. If you are like me, or even if you aren't...if you have any kids at all, you also have a lot of STUFF. Everyone LOVES to get kids toys because kids love to get toys! But for the small, minimalist home, or for the family with 4 to 6 kids (or more if you are literally completely insane...even more than two in my opinion is a wee bit on the looney tunes side).

Anyway, another mom blog to share.

A Friendly Holiday Suggestion From The Mom With Too Much Stuff

It's sort of geared towards their particular area, but there are general ideas here that are actually really great. I call these "clutter-free gifts". Mostly because...well I was inspired by my mother. She likes 'stuff' and has enough 'stuff' to probably fill up the entire state of Nebraska (ok maybe not QUITE that much, but it's a lot). So her children (me and my bros) all decided to try to get her gifts that are not tangible. Things like gift cards to her favorite restaurants, gift certificate for a massage, or a pre-paid giant dumpster to throw all her sh*t in (ok we haven't done that last one yet, but don't think we haven't thought about it! We're not sure she would see the thoughtfulness in that gesture as clearly as we would hope. ;) ).
Another thing about these clutter-free gifts is that they often provide a level of thoughtfulness that might not otherwise come with a material gift. Material gifts can certainly be thoughtful, but most of the time we simply buy things that people have put on their wish list. So maybe they aren't quite as thoughtful as say getting your wife a gift certificate for a massage and mani/pedi, but they are thoughtful with respect to people wanting to make sure they get you something you will like/want/need. You could get a gift certificate to someone's favorite coffee place. A wine club or beer club subscription for a year would be an idea as well, although those do tend to be a bit on the pricey side. 

For kid's the clutter-free gift might be a little more challenging, depending on their age. Not many kids probably get massages (or maybe they do...I tend to be out of tough with the latest 'trends' most of the time). But consider perhaps a mommy & me painting class or ceramics decorating class. If they live in an area where they have access location-wise to cool things like a children's museum or a zoo, you could get them a season pass for a year (as long as it's not a significant burden for the parent's to be able to get them there). 

Consumables are also really great gift ideas. Things like maybe some healthy granola or a basket of goodies (good for you or bad). Hot chocolate and/or peppermint schnapps. Booze is a great consumable that we often exchange in my family (we like alcohol...don't judge us). I once did a "movie night basket" for my nephew. I packed a little tub or bucket with popcorn and a few other snacky foods, a dvd, and fuzzy socks. Or a relaxation basket with lotion, bath salts or epsom salts, and other yummy smelling things that can be used up quickly. 

Another idea we've done in the past is making a specific request that if people want to give us gifts, they simply send us the money they would have spent so we can use it to buy a new TV. We didn't get enough to cover the whole cost of the TV, but it was something we both wanted and we were able to get it for a bit cheaper then because people sort of gifted half of it to us. 

Just a few ideas as we approach shopping season. I hope you enjoyed our time together. Until next time...love yourself!

I Did Something I'm Really Proud Of

I think perhaps this might be the first time I have ever completely followed through on a bucket list goal. Particularly a fitness goal. I'll be the first to admit that I am (or at least I have been for the bulk of my lifespan thus far) pretty lazy when it comes to losing weight or fitness. I always wanted it to just melt off when I started a new workout routine so I could just go back to my old ways...which, naturally, resulted in getting fat again.

What changed? Honestly? I think there were a lot of factors. One very powerful factor was finally reaching that maturity level where I no longer give a flying fart what other people think of me. Now, let me clarify, when I say that I don't care what people think of me I am primarily referring to my body image (and sometimes my parenting practices...). Once I finally found the ability to love myself...to love the body that I was given upon my birth...well things just seemed to be easier. I was no longer hitting those "quit lines" all the time. I no longer constantly worried about how silly I might look when I run or how some people are probably making fun of me because I'm running around with a handkerchief on my face or stuffed down my bra so I can easily blow my nose during a run (stupid allergies. Thanks evolution.). I don't care if people think I look like a huge dork in my brightly colored running pants. I don't care if I am slow, or if my bellow jiggles, or if I sweat like a man. I really think that was the beginning for me.

It was the same for yoga. I enjoyed it more once I took the pressure off myself to be as flexible and bendy as the pros that were instructing me. I enjoyed it more once I stopped worrying about what my belly skin (thanks pregnancy) looks like when it's contorted into a splendid yoga pose. Another contributing factor was the incredible pain relief it brought for me (I suffer from chronic SI joint pain). It also has actually helped improve my running. Running packs my body down. It's hard on my knees and lower back. But yoga has helped to prevent those typical aches and pains from even showing up. Yoga has also been a spiritual and cathartic journey for me to begin. It's difficult to explain that part. I think people have to experience it to understand it.

Anyway...as I have digressed quite a bit...back to the original horn tooting. I ran my very first fun run on October 29th, 2016. I would never have committed to it if I didn't have the support and partnership of my so very awesome sister-in-law. I did it for her. I did it for me. Having someone important as a part of this commitment was very powerful for me. It gave me motivation and made it fun.

The run was only 2.5 miles, but included some crazy ass obstacles that I did not train for. Some of them were really hard! But I did it. I did it all. I didn't give up. I sprinted a few times (the zombies were going to get me!). I didn't 'survive' the zombie apocalypse this year. I learned some techniques I will need to implement next year. But I am elated. I did it! I accomplished something! I completed a goal from start to finish! And the feels! Wow. It's hard to explain. I'm not sure I've ever really worked this hard to accomplish something. I'm typically a "give it as much effort as I feel like it and if it doesn't work out then it's good enough at least I tried" sort of gal. I did complete Insanity once, but I didn't feel the same way about that as I did this. By the end of Insanity I had too many aches and pains (it's brutal on the joints) to really feel accomplished. And to top it off, I lost 0 pounds. This time...well I still didn't lose pounds, but I feel amazing. My body feels good, healthy, fit. My heart is happy and I got to make an incredibly important memory with an incredibly important person right there beside me. It was the best day (except for the results of the Husker game *sniff*).

So it has begun...my addiction to running, yoga, fun runs, and marathons.

The Social World of the Stay At Home Parent

Learning to socialize in the world of parents is not near as easy as I thought it would be. Now, when I say social I don't necessarily mean making new BFFs. Not at all. I am most certainly not one to develop deep and meaningful relationships quickly and easily. I am slow to trust, slow to open up, and a cautious person when it comes to relationship that go beyond the basic social interaction.

When I first started this SAHM job I was both nervous and excited about the prospects of socializing with other adults in the same phase of their life as I was. I have been lucky enough to connect with one fellow SAHM. And, honestly, I consider myself lucky to also not be wrapped up in a group of "mean moms". I have met them. I have tried to be kind and polite, but on the inside I am cursing them and their stuck up noses. I remind myself that they are probably mean because deep down they are unhappy or struggling with something. I try not to take it personally, even though there are times I probably should. But f*ck those bitches. I mean it. They are not worth the fretting over.

Making friends as a parent reminds me of being the new kid at school and it's lunchtime. There you are standing in your wildly colored jeans (standing out like a pink flamingo in a flock of ducks), slowly scanning the room for a safe place to land. Next to a kind face? All by yourself in that corner over there in hopes that no one sees you? Heaven forbid you be brave and just sit next to whoever you want to, risking deep cutting rejection.

As a parent, instead of the cafeteria, I'm standing in a room full of adults and children, all of which are either judging your parenting style/skills or not even acknowledging your existence. Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse. And it seems that almost all of the parents you encounter (often frequently if you are a SAHP who goes to all the local activities for little ones) have little to no desire to make any level of friendship or acquaintance let alone make small talk.

Recently, I had the "opportunity" to attend a parent/child class without my one mom friend. I dread going already, but I dreaded it even more knowing she wouldn't be there. Without her there though (and because the hubs was there too) I was able to observe things going on. I learned a few things from this observation opportunity:

1) Other parents are not paying any attention to me unless my kid is misbehaving, in which case all eyes are on us. It's difficult to decipher whether their looks are judgmental in a negative way or if they are just feeling sorry for me. And, naturally, I assume they are thinking I am a terrible parent because my child is not sitting perfectly and listening like their kids are.

2) Other parents are not at all interested in interacting on any level with the other parents at the activity. Some even go so far as to prevent their own child from interacting too much with other children or parents.

3) It's basically just a room full of parents playing with their own children.

4) Being completely ignored feels almost as insulting as being stared at. There was one point where the kids were supposed to bounce balloons up and down on a flay swatter (excellent idea for older kids...not so much for 1 to 3 year olds). The girl next to me kept hitting her balloon in my direction. It landed on my head at least twice. When this happened it was natural for me to turn and attempt a social interaction. In my mind I expected that I would turn, make brief eye contact with the mom retrieving the balloon from my side, and perhaps share a little laugh about being hit in the head with her daughter's balloon. Typically, there is what I refer to as the "laughing apology". This is the moment where your child does something like accidentally hitting someone in the head with a balloon then you make eye contact, laugh, say "haha I'm so sorry.", and the other parent laughs and says something like "That's ok." and sometimes we have a brief reciprocal conversation about how awesome and adorable our kids are. So that's how I imagined this situation to play out. I don't want to make a best buddy, but social interactions in passing are normal...right? What actually happened was that the mom rescued the balloon and pointedly avoided eye contact with me. There was no verbal interaction despite the fact that I turned, looked at her, and smiled. It was weird. I felt like I wanted to wave my hands in front of her face and say "Hey! Look at me! Look I exist and I am trying to have a human interaction! Hello!!"

Am I the only person here that thinks it's weird that all these kids and parents would be together doing something that is supposed to be social and interactive but only focus on interacting with their own? Like, what is the actual point of doing this sort of thing if you're not even going to use it to take advantage of an opportunity to talk to another adult for like 5 minutes?

Then there's the expectation that my child is there to socialize with other kids, yet every parent keeps their child within arms reach and interacts with them so the littles don't really get an opportunity to socialize with their peers. Some parents have even gone out of their way to redirect their child away from socializing with a peer and re-engage with them instead.

(The psychologist and lover of sociology in me wonders if this is how it's always been or if this is a symptom of our fear mongering society and constant bombardment with news about terrible things that happen to people...)

When I go to these things I imagine myself as more of a coach. I stand in the background, observe, and intervene when necessary.  How else is my child going to learn how to be a social being? Then again, how is he going to learn to be a social being with all of his peers are afraid to socialize with new people?

Unless I suddenly develop telepathy, I'm probably not going to find the answers to my questions. I will remain perplexed. Until then, I will proceed with my social observation and intrigue.

Mom Tip Monday

   Follow me on Facebook too!  

To Procreate Again or Not To Procreate Again? That Is The Question.

It wasn't until my son, who just turned 3, started to look like a boy instead of a baby that I started feeling the pangs of instinct once again. I always wanted to have at least 2 children. My life plan required that they be born somewhere between when I was 25 to 28. Of course, as we all know with life plans, this isn't the way it happened. I was late in the game of maturing enough to feel like I was going to be capable of caring for another human life. I also had a lot of expenses after grad school. I wasn't ready. When I was finally ready it took a while for me to get pregnant.

I was 30. It was December. I was late. But my period, or what I thought to be my period, came with a vengeance. I was devastated. I wanted so badly to at least have one child before 30. Thirty seemed so late to start a family. But when I finally got there and still hadn't gotten pregnant, I was crushed. 

The next month I again came late. This time we had some positive pregnancy tests, but they turned out to be expired so we didn't trust them. We got some new ones and confirmed that we were in fact pregnant. I can't even begin to describe the way I felt in that moment. A combination of pure joy and utter terror would put it mildly. My life plan was already out the window by this time. The new plan had me starting my family at age 30. Five more years of 'safe' pregnancies possible now....yikes. 

It's been 3 years now since my son was born. He's been a blessing. And although there are times I want to rip my hair out, I love him so much it hurts sometimes. He is my boy. I made him. I stare at him with awe sometimes, especially when he's sleeping. And now he's starting to look like a boy instead of a baby. He's leaning up, stretching out, and wearing underpants now. He's not a baby anymore. Cue uterus thump. 

I didn't want any more ever since he was born. I was pretty firm on this to the disapproval of several family members. But about three quarters of the way through age 2 I started to think about it. I think about whether he would be upset with me for not at least trying to give him a sibling. I know my siblings are so special to me and I can't even imagine my life without them. Am I denying my son that kind of love? Then I talk to people who grew up as an only child and they say they loved being the only one. 

Then there's the grandparents. I see my son with his Grams and Gramps and just how much he adores them and they adore him. I am so thankful I was able to give them that experience in their life. And sometimes I feel like I should have another baby for them (because the likelihood of any of their other children to produce grandbabies is looking pretty slim at this point...at least anytime in the near future. And when/if they do, my son will be too old to connect with them very well.). And I know my brothers and sister-in-law would love to have more littles around too.

Splitting attention between two children also seems to be a daunting task. I don't know how my son would adjust to losing the attention he already gets (and doesn't think it's enough). Having to keep track of multiple children by myself in a park or a store sounds terrifying.

Financially it definitely would not work. We can barely afford what family we have already created. We live a comfortable life, but if we had another child, things would become much more stressed. I also would have to continue my leave of absence from my job as a school psychologist for another 3 to 4 years, then putting me about 5 or 6 years out of practice. And that's only if I got pregnant before I went back to work. I couldn't even consider having one if I started a new job. I couldn't do that to an employer...well I could technically, yes, but it would not reflect well on my professional life. That's just the way things are as a woman. In my kind of position, a woman is less likely to be hired if she is pregnant. And less likely to be retained if she becomes pregnant immediately after having been hired. Regardless of how good she is at her job, it's a great inconvenience to have someone be gone for 12 weeks. 

When I really sit down and think about why I want another child so badly right now I find that it is instinct and the sibling thing. Almost everything else makes it seem less appealing - lack of sleep, losing freedom again for another 3 years, going through another c-section, not being as lucky with the second one and having a difficult baby (mine was pretty easy for the most part), dealing with GD again and potentially developing Type II diabetes as a result of a second pregnancy with GD, having a small house with literally no space for another human to live in, and the list goes on. So making a pros and cons list would clearly indicate that "No, we should not have another child."

And then there's the husband factor too. Obviously we both have to be on the same page about this one. We never want a baby at the same time. At this point he's a pretty firm "No". And that's ok. I'm not mad about it. I respect him and I respect why he feels that way. And I most certainly wouldn't want an issue like that to come between us, especially since we already have at least one really amazing little kid in our life. 

It is not an easy decision to make to say no to having more. Our son will be judged as an only child if he ends up that way. We will be judged as parents for anything our son does wrong because he's an only child. We will face our challenges. He might resent not having siblings. He might not.

I feel like this conflict will rage on inside me for a while. I feel like I'm straddling a fence with both halves of me equally split between a 'no' and a 'yes'. This fence is really uncomfortable. 

"The ultimate test of a moral society is the kind of world that it leaves to its children.” - Dietrich Bonhoeffer

This platform (my blog) is not typically used for politics. But recent events in our country have compelled me to share my feelings/opinions. All of this is also coming in a bit late. I've worked on this post for several days and contemplated deeply the potential repercussions I might face by making a public post like this.

I don't share these things because I think I'm special or that my stories are special, but because they are not special and not uncommon. That is why they are important. Also because people are dismissing the core issue here. It's not about politics anymore. It's about basic human decency.

Michelle Obama gave a speech talking about something that has now become more than  just a political focus, but has exploded into a test of our nation's morale compass: sexual assault. I tend to group this with sexual harassment and sexual abuse. To me, it's all the same thing. But I guess, by definition, it is all the same thing. It all elicits the same kind of emotion in a woman. It all cuts deeply in the same way.

I have been shaken to my core as well. A lot of what has shaken me is the realization that people around me, people I love dearly, people I care about, are saying deplorable things with regard to Trump's comment and the women coming out to share their story: Why now?, Why didn't they report it when it happened?, They probably deserved it, what were they wearing?, They are liars., We can't expect men to not do these things because all women are sexualized and objectified, therefore are basically just baiting these men, men are all pigs and it's common so what these women are reporting isn't that big of a deal....

Oh my goodness...where do I begin.

First off, let's get one thing very clear. Reporting any sort of sexual assault whether it be rape, molestation, sexual harassment, or anything related to this particular action of violating a person's private space without their permission is not easy. A quick and simple Google search will provide plenty of research-based evidence on this topic. Here...or here...or here...I could go on, but quite frankly, I don't believe the people that actually need to understand this sort of thing will even bother to try. They've already made up their minds whether it be an original thought in their mind or by media manipulation.

Much to my dismay, some women are still being fairly dismissive of this whole topic in general. This is mind boggling to me. Some women are saying that it's just the way things are, that men are all pigs and we just need to deal with it or stop sexualizing and objectifying ourselves. Or they are simply trying to make this solely about politics. But it is so much more than that at this point. Come on ladies! How can you devalue yourselves so much? Yes, I know it's a common thing, but that doesn't make it right! And to clump all men into this lump of being pigs is an insult to good men everywhere. Not all men are like this. It is not locker room talk! And it is not okay.

I even heard a woman on CNN last night say that these women should just get over it because it happened decades ago. Their voices are being dismissed because of timing by some.

Because of the way our society views this issue...because so many women believe that all men act this way and it's just "locker room talk" in the "boys club"...we, as victims, are automatically discredited from the very start. Before a word is uttered, the people around us have already judged us, the victim, as part of the problem. What we wore, how we acted, everything we did or didn't do becomes scrutinized. Somehow we become the ones under investigation. Suddenly our integrity is questioned even if we've always been a honorable person. As victims we have to weigh the risks of sharing our story or keeping silent. Will people hate us? Will our personal life be strung out on a line for all to see? Will we be fired? Will the perpetrator retaliate? What will this do to my family and their lives?

The words that came out of Donald Trump's mouth on that bus shook me to my core too. The implications of what he said and now the allegations going on now have cut me deeply. Not only because he has said and allegedly acted on these things, but also because of the response it has elicited from the people around me.

But all politics aside...this got me thinking about my stories. And being reminded that so many people out there still believe that I deserved it because I didn't say no, or I didn't stand up for myself, or I was dressed "too pretty", has really gotten to me.

My stories.

Yes, sadly, I have several as I am sure many other women out there do. Some women just brush them off as a normal part of life and others find it to be much more damaging. But I think all women know what it's like to be a woman to some extent.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"We are acutely aware of our vulnerability. Aware that if he wanted to, that guy in the Home Depot parking lot could overpower us and do whatever he wants.

Guys, this is what it means to be a woman.

We are sexualized before we even understand what that means. We develop into women while our minds are still innocent. We get stares and comments before we can even drive. From adult men. We feel uncomfortable but don’t know what to do, so we go about our lives. We learn at an early age, that to confront every situation that makes us squirm is to possibly put ourselves in danger. We are aware that we are the smaller, physically weaker sex. That boys and men are capable of overpowering us if they choose to. So we minimize and we de-escalate.

So, the next time a woman talks about being cat-called and how it makes her uncomfortable, don’t dismiss her. Listen."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My stories start early in my life. I was around 8 and my cousin "grabbed my p*****". We were down at the lake that my grandparents had in their gated community. No parents, just us kids. I vaguely remember us playing some sort of monster game and when the other kids were bored with it, my cousin and I were the only two still in the water, while the rest were up playing in the sand. Then it happened. It was so fast. I was shocked. I knew what was happening wasn't right, but I literally had no idea how to respond. I froze. He whispered something to me about "needing this" and I honestly don't remember the rest. I didn't tell my mother about what happened until I was 16. It haunted me all those years. Every time I wiped myself after I peed, I thought about it. I remembered. It cut again.

The second time I remember I was in junior high, I believe. My brother's friend grabbed my boob and I kicked him in the balls. I kicked him hard, wearing green Doc Martins boots. He called me a "f*ckin' b*tch" and went home. I got in trouble over that one. I got in trouble because I defended myself when a man encroached on my space and touched me in a placed that is supposed to be touched only if I permit it. Another cut.

Later in high school a friend of mine grabbed my boobs and I kicked him in the balls too. He promised to never do it again. We stayed friends. This memory really isn't so bad, but it is one of my many encounters of sexual violation.

I honestly can't even count the number of times I was inappropriately grabbed or spoken to while I was working at a waitress for several years through high school and some of college. Cut, cut, cut...

In college I dealt with professors staring at my chest blatantly while I attempted to ask them questions about class. One in particular, never actually looked me in the face for an entire semester. And this was a fall/winter semester so I wasn't scantily clad. Cut...

I have dealt with sexual harassment in the workplace on a number of occasions. None of those were a violation of my personal space, but they were equally distasteful. Cut, cut...

Those are my stories. Those are my scars. There aren't many (in my opinion there shouldn't be any at all). But so many people right now are out there justifying this behavior or being dismissive of it. So many people are out there doing exactly the thing that makes reporting it an aversive decision. Even saying that we should just get over it because it happened decades ago and I didn't report some of them. I did report being violated once when I was young (got in trouble) and another time when I was older (thank goodness I had good administration backing me. I did worry about retaliation though). And I will tell you...reporting it in the workplace was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Sad thing too, is that if he hadn't have made one of his staff come into my office sobbing over what he had just said to her (in front of students no less)...well I may have never reported it. Somehow for myself I felt like it was just something I had to deal with because I am a woman. But I couldn't allow a man who was someone's superior to continue to behave in such a manner. That was apparently where I had drawn the line. In retrospect I am seeing how completely screwed up that is. That man had absolutely no right to act that way in a professional setting and most definitely NOT in front of students.

And so many people are saying, including people I know well and love, that somehow or another, all of these experiences were apparently my fault. I mean they don't come right out and say those words exactly, but the implication is there in how they are responding to this discussion topic of sexual assault. As I have mentioned before, many are dismissive of this because it's so close to the election, because the women didn't report it when it happened, because they weren't pretty enough to be sexually assaulted, because they must be wanting fame or money, because they are dressing too provocatively, because they didn't say 'no',....and on and on. These are the words they are using to say that sexual assault is somehow an acceptable behavior or that it's the fault of the victim.

I would really like to know, at what point does it become my fault that these things happened? Was it when I was a little girl and didn't say 'no' or smack my cousin in the face? I was wearing a bathing suit, I guess, so maybe that was part of why it was my fault. I was dressed too provocatively. [sarcasm]

Or maybe it became my fault when I was in junior high and, as most adolescents do, I was dressing provocatively to get attention from the boys. I mean, I'll admit that part. When I was a teenager I was obsessed with boys. I'm pretty sure that it's common knowledge that teenagers are obsessed with whomever they are sexually attracted to. The ultimate goal for me was to have a boyfriend. The ultimate goal for most boys was to get laid. But, I was unfortunate in my looks and ability to apply makeup, do hair, or match clothing. So as much as I tried to get attention from the boys...it didn't work all that well for me. So I don't know, you tell me. Was this when it became my fault? I guess I didn't disclaim to every male I encountered that I was not interested in sex with them or having them touch my privates. Maybe that's what I did wrong. (I wonder where to buy those signs...)

Oh wait, I know, it became my fault when I started actually figuring out how to look pretty and I was a waitress. So, a moderately pretty girl is a waitress and now I've done it. This must have been where I just started tempting the men folk so much that they were compelled to grab my ass or make lewd comments. I guess I didn't wear that sign around my neck telling all the men that 'No' I don't want them to touch or grab my ass. I suppose the signals I was sending were "foggy". So it must have been my fault then.

I guess I forgot to wear my 'No!' sign when I became a professional working in education too, so it was definitely my fault when I dressed too nicely and had to treat everyone kindly because I was in a position of authority (sort of). So I guess that must have been when the man thought I gave him permission to speak lewdly to me, about me, and to ask me perverted questions when I am trying to just do my job. And I'm sure the other lady who was victimized also asked for it somehow [sarcasm]. (I really need to know where I can buy one of these signs!)

So there it is. All of my experiences, that my memory hasn't blocked out, of sexual violation and harassment. Most of my life I have been told that these were things that shouldn't happen. I was told that people aren't supposed to be able to treat me in such a way. I was told that men/boys weren't supposed to touch my vagina, butt, or breasts without my explicit permission. But they did. Sometimes I fought back. Sometimes I just shut down. And I am always wondering why. Why did these things that are not supposed to happen, happen so many times? Anyone paying attention to the outrage over Donald Trump's comments about women on that bus will have an opinion on how to answer that question. I have my own. I do not think it was my fault. And I don't think this should be happening so often to so many women.

I also think it is important to praise and commend those who are brave enough to share their story. Not because the perpetrator will be punished (although in some cases that would be appropriate), but to shed light on an underlying darkness in our society that we have been working to leave behind for many years. And thankfully, we have come a long way. If this sort of thing happened 20, 30, plus years ago, I don't think as many people would be outraged like they are today. So this is a good thing because it proves that our society has progressed, albeit slowly, to a place where every human is respected. So, at least there is a bit of a silver lining in this dark cloud. And I hope this will progress in the right direction, and I think it will, because even though there are a number of people out there perpetuating the darkness that our society has held onto for so long, there are an equal number or even a greater number of men and women out there making it clear that this behavior is not acceptable and will not be tolerated.

Even before this Trump stuff came out, I was complaining about how I practically couldn't go anywhere outside without being cat-called. Those don't necessarily traumatize me, but I do find it annoying. It's just so degrading and disrespectful. Especially when I am with my son. I mean, come on guys. Have some respect. I don't expect guys to not have feelings. Even I appreciate the half naked college guys that run past my house. But I don't sit out on my porch and whistle at them. I don't comment on their looks. I don't permit myself to go grab their junk or sexually assault them because they are dressed (or not so dressed) provocatively. So, why is it somehow acceptable for me to be subjected to it? And not only that, but I'm expected to be flattered. I'm not.

I've said a lot here. I shared my stories. I shared my opinions. All of these things are now open to judgement and ridicule. I get that. But I have to share. I cannot stay silent. I share this because little girls out there should know that just because the women in their lives have these stories, it doesn't make it right. I share this because little girls everywhere are wondering how the adults are going to play this one out. They are waiting to hear your definitive answer regarding whether this behavior is socially acceptable or not. They are waiting to find out if their parents are going to believe their story when/if it happens to them. They are waiting to find out if they should even bother to share a story. they already have. They are waiting to hear if the adults around them are going to dismiss their cuts or help them heal. Will they be believed? Will they matter?

We, as women, need to let our young women and men know that sexual assault is not acceptable and not "just something that happens". We, as parents, have an obligation to help our kids make the future of our society a better one. This is not the time to be silent. It's not about politics anymore. It's about the morale compass of our nation.