I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I wish…
…I knew all the answers. I’m ready to settle down in life and have been for quite some time. I want to know what I need to do and where I need to be. I want to know when it will be time to have everything sorted out and why it’s taking so long. Most of all I want to know how I get everything sorted out. I wish the days of security were upon me. I wish I could give my kids the world. I wish I felt comfortable in my own skin. I wish I felt energetic and healthy. But wishing only gets you so far. Perhaps it’s time to start living and stop wishing.
This is what makes me feel lucky:
Somehow, no matter how dark and scary life seems, I always come out on the other side. Things always seem to work out and get better. I always worry that one day my luck will run out, but I treasure each time things work out, whether it be due to my own efforts or the saving graces of family and friends. When I count my blessings, I have many wonderful people to be thankful for — many wonderful people who make me feel lucky.
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever…
…find my path to the lifestyle I’m dreaming of. Will I ever figure out how to create the lifestyle I want to live? Will I ever create courses and content that makes it possible for me to live my life on my own terms? I plug away at other options, though, feeling like I need backup plans and safety nets everywhere. I don’t want to fail and have nothing to fall back on because I have three little people who need me to provide for them. And so I toy with promotion at the breadwinner job. I toy with going back into the land of desks, Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm. I toy with going back to school. But really and truly, my heart wants to be home whenever it needs. Will I ever have it all figured out?
This is the best part of my day.
Waking up to that first cup of freshly brewed tea. Snuggling in for the evening in my pajamas. Curled up on the sofa with my laptop. Lounging in bed with my head against a soft pillow. Hugging my babies. Sitting down to write my lists and page. There are many different things that could be considered the best part of my day. Each day is a little different for me because I work retail. My schedules vary, and so do my daily routines. However, each day I find a little moment of bliss. With the weather warming up, I’ve got opportunities to sip coffee on the back deck while listening to the birds sing. I can take a walk and listen to music. Each day has its own opportunities for happiness, and I seek to seize each and every single one of those precious moments.
I’m trying not to talk about
…what happened during 2013 and 2014 anymore. I’m trying to repress those bad memories and move forward. I know I probably learned some very valuable lessons during that time, but I also learned that there are big evils in this world masquerading as the good guys. I sat down with people who assumed my values must suck only to tell stories about family traditions that have held up through many years before they came along to tell me that I need to have traditions. I’m trying to talk about it because I don’t want that to be my story — I don’t want to be known and remembered for THAT. I had a story to share before all of that. I had aspirations before all of that. Unfortunately, those aspirations have become distant memories as a result of shifted priorities (re: fighting the system), and I no longer feel that yearning. The motivation is gone, and now I’m simply seeking to spark the flames once again, searching for inspiration to find my way back to myself — or at least to a new dream. I’m trying not to talk about it, but it doesn’t seem to be working out that well because I keep having to go back there. I’m tired of going back there. Can we please just leave it in the past and let go? Let it go and move forward.
The moment I enter the kitchen I feel…
…ready to eat. The kitchen is my happy place. I love cooking and baking. I create ideas in the kitchen. I nourish growing children with love and wholesome ingredients. I test new recipes and perfect old ones. The kitchen is the main room of the home for me — if the kitchen is stocked full of good food, cleaned, and ready for meal prep, the house is in order. There have been times, however, where entering the kitchen was more of a depressing event. Trying to find ingredients to create a meal seemed so daunting with so few options. Money was tight, hopes were dim, and the family was fragmented. Thankfully, those times are behind us, and the kitchen is once again the happiest room in the home.
I immediately feel my body tense up whenever I hear…
…sirens, the phone ringing, or a child cry out. To understand the sirens, read about my Valentine’s Day 2008. I’ve learned to associate the sound of my home phone or cell phone as a bill collector — or worse. The first few months of 2013 really just destroyed my desire to make or receive phone calls. And of course, my poor little heart just can’t take the thought of something terrifying or hurting one of my children, or any child for that matter. There are plenty of stories to explain all the horrifying reasons my body tenses up at any of these sounds, but far too many to explore here for my own good.
I wouldn’t call it a collection as such, but I do seem to have a lot of…
…stuff. I have skinny clothes and chunky clothes. I have hair accessories that I rarely ever use and a bunch of flowers that I enjoy rotating out. I have several scarves and plenty of cozy hoodies. I hold onto a lot of these things partly because I know I’ll need them at some point (cold weather requires scarves and sweaters, but summer certainly doesn’t) and partly because I don’t feel like confronting the purge (what if I get skinnier? what if I get chubbier?).
I tend to have different colored pens on hand at all times. I use them until they are completely dried out. When I write my lists and journal, I enjoying keeping my words literally colorful. It enhances the experience for me. Again, it’s not really a collection, but some times it might seem as such.
It’s the first thing that comes to mind when I wake in the morning and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep.
The path ahead. No matter what else pops into my head on each given morning and as I lay my head down each night, my mind always wanders to that special “what if” place. This can be both a good and bad place to be, granted bad more often than not. Some days I have a clearer vision of that path before me than others. Some days I know where I want to go — others I just want to take the path that leads me back under the covers. This path ahead of me is slow and winding, bringing some interesting sights as I travel along. Mine is a path yet trodden, so it’s up to me to determine the course.
Whenever thunder grumbles overhead, I think of…
…snuggling safely under a blanket in the sanctuary of my home. I’m reminded of thunderstorms from my childhood when the steamy New York summers would bring flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder. I’m reminded of the unpredictable Floridian storms that seemingly pass through daily during the rainy season. I remember the terrifying storms of April 2011, our first year in Northwest Georgia — and seeing that mountains don’t actually stop tornadoes from forming into horrific disasters. When thunder grumbles overhead, I seek shelter. I seek comfort. I offer comfort to my children, who seem absolutely petrified by thunderstorms. I brace for possibilities, but I also find peace when I’m inside.