Wednesday, February 6, 2019

What do you do?

If I asked you the question, "What do you do?" what would you say?

If you are like most people, you would tell me the name of your job.

My job isn't me though, and your job is not you. So maybe we should change that conversation.

It's hard. It's so hard, especially for people like me who really put a lot of value on work. I work a lot. I think about work a lot. I struggle to disconnect from work. I spend way too much time thinking about work, even when I'm not "technically" working. I actually love working, I love being productive, and I love earning money. I said many years ago that I would never again allow myself to be in a position where I had to rely on anyone else to pay my bills, and I will do everything in my power to make that so, for as long as I live.

I'm still not my job and even if you agree with everything I just said, you aren't your job either.

So what do I do?

I run slow miles.
I dance like nobody's watching in Zumba class.
I mom really hard.
I make a killer lasagna.
I love, love, love. Wildly, unabashedly, and so, so much.
I write lots of words and sometimes I share them.
I motivate, unintentionally, and only sometimes.
I spend mornings with The Big Guy, talking about what I'm thankful for, what I need, and what the world needs.
I listen and I hear. 
I advocate for those who can't advocate for themselves.
I give and I help.
I volunteer.
I care.

I am more than my job, and so are you. So what do you do?

Sunday, December 30, 2018

Lessons Learned- 2018

1) Nothing is more important than one's health.

2) Nothing is taken more for granted than one's good health.

3) I am stronger than I thought.

4) Even in the face of utterly crushing disappointment, you have to stay the course. Good things, better things, are coming.

5) Parenting almost twenty-one year old people is not for the weak.

6) There are people who will appreciate the things you do.

7) The number of people who appreciate the things you do is very, very small.

8) Some people will never see the truth, even if it's blatantly, painfully staring them in the face.

9) I will never be worthy to some people, no matter how good I am.

10) Sometimes you love someone a lot and they still hurt you and take advantage of you.

11) People really, really, REALLY do not understand mental illness.

12) There are relationships, feelings, and emotions that I will never get to have. I am still learning how to be okay with this.

13) I am closest to God when I am outside, in nature.

14) I need to be outside in nature more.

15) Most of the time, someone else's actions have absolutely nothing to do with me and worrying about what other people do is a colossal waste of time.

16) I can literally wear whatever I want.

17) I will never, ever be a priority to some people, even if I make them a priority.

18) Those people mentioned in 17? Got to go.

19) Maintaining an over 200lbs weight loss is harder than actually losing the weight in the first place.

20) Dogs don't live nearly long enough and the time you have with them seems impossibly short.

21) No one really cares about your birthday.
22) My heart is capable of more love than I thought.

Here's to 2019 being less of a trainwreck, here's to more books, more writing, more kindness, and more taking care of Stephanie.

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Without you

I just counted nine unpublished drafts in my blogger post history. One of them is titled "Rage". One of them is titled, "No, you don't understand".

I'm all  up in my feelings lately y'all.

It's okay though. Feelings sometimes suck, but they are also good. Not allowing myself to feel things got me to some really dark places over the years.  I still have several things in my past that my therapist tries in vain to get me to talk about and I just NOPE the hell out of it. That's okay. I'll get there. She keeps trying. I keep working. It's a process.

What's been really beautiful about being so broken is that the people who live with me and who truly know me and love me are supportive and kind. They accept and love my brokenness as just another part of me. They get that I am learning, that I am continually growing. They are all growing too, and it's really...beautiful. It's beautiful. I broke one of my cardinal rules about repeatedly using the same word,  but really. Beautiful is the best way to describe it.

Last night Jason and I went out to dinner, just the two of us. We sat in the car and talked when we came home. I'm not even really sure why, no one was home but us. The car felt cozy though and it was just a natural continuation of the conversation and where we were.

I confessed to him so many things that have been weighing so heavily on me lately. Some things he kind of suspected, but other things that he was surprised by. We are at such a different place than we were ten years ago, or five years ago, or even two years ago.

He took my hand and told me, this is just another season, Stephanie. Just another time. We'll look back someday and be so proud of ourselves for sticking together. He then loudly sang, "We're going through changes" and that? Made me laugh. A lot.

I said something like, "What would I do without you?" Usually he says, "You'll never have to find out" or something like that, but last night he said. "You'd be exactly who you are now. You've always had this inside of you. Always".

He's right. I know he is. I don't like to think about him not being around, I don't like to think about what my life would be without him or my children in it every single day, but honestly?

I would be okay. I would survive. Would it be fun? No. Will it be fun when Jonathan and Megan don't live in my home and have daily contact with me? No. Will it be fun when Ginger dies? No.

Will I be okay? Yes. Will I survive? Yes.

I know this. I know all of this. I know every bit of this is inside of me, even if it's buried. It's so nice though, just so very nice, to have people who believe in me and what I can do.

Sunday, September 16, 2018

Lessons from 42

It's a month until my 43rd birthday. I'm not dead yet.

If you've been reading my blog for a while you probably know that I was very afraid to turn 40. For many reasons, but mostly because when my mother was 40 years old she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was in high school at the time and it seems very big and very scary. She also seemed "old". Not grandma old, but mom old.

If you are a teenager reading this, I am here to tell you that forty is not old. Also, get off my lawn.

I turned forty and basically nothing happened (to my health anyway). Now I'm almost 43 and I'm...happy.


My life is so far from perfect that the word happy almost seems like a farce sometimes. The last two years or so have brought some of the greatest challenges I've ever faced.  I've had to make some tough decisions. I've had to face some really painful, terrible things. Parenting adults is completely uncharted territory and I have felt more lost and alone at times than I ever have in my entire life. My dog Ginger, my sweet, precious Ginger, is not long for this world.

There is more, so much more, that does not need to be said. I have challenges. Everyone does.

I'm less afraid though. Recently I read a quote by Tina Fey:

"Say yes. You'll figure it out afterward".

That resonated with me, so deeply. I said yes to something the next day that I had been wavering about and my life has been changing in so many ways. It's different, but it's right for me. It's where I need to be.

One thing that I have continued to struggle with is shame. I have deep, almost all-encompassing shame sometimes about my past.

I have made so many mistakes in my life. I have made so many decisions that were detrimental to not only me, but other people around me. I have believed, been taught, and expressed things that were, frankly, horrendous.  I have said so many times that I am so thankful that the internet did not exist when I was younger. It did exist, but the proliferation of social media in the last few years has really changed how the world connects. I have Facebook. I have Instagram. I am on LinkedIn. People can look me up, including the stupid thoughts I had eight years ago. If the stupid thoughts I had twenty years ago were available for public consumption, many of you would not like me. I certainly would not like myself.

I'm working on letting go of this shame. When you know better, you do better. I didn't know  then, and I do know now. I have zero fear, ZERO, of saying, "I was wrong. I made a bad decision. I know better now. Please forgive me."


I recently had this conversation with my children in which I said I was sorry. That for so many, long years I was so angry and bitter and hurt and I know that shaped the way I parented them. They are full of grace, both of them, and immediately said I was a good mom...a great mom, and they understood. They get how my past shaped who I was. They knew I was doing my best. They were proud of me for getting my ass into therapy every week, even though it's hard, even though it hurts, even though it's so painful to own your own crap.

They are precious. They are worth owning my own crap.

I want to tell you, if you are reading this:

It is okay to say you were wrong.
It's okay to admit you didn't know.
It's okay to GROW.

I'm growing.

It feels amazing.

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Love finds a way

Let it be known: I was not supposed to ever live in North Carolina.

It was early 1997 and my parents moved. That's not what is supposed to happen, right? The kids are supposed to grow up and move away and the parents are supposed to stay in the exact same spot for the rest of their lives and everyone comes and visits and grandma bakes cookies and all that noise. I was sure of it, because that's what I had always seen on television.

My parents moved though, to this little town in North Carolina. 

Which was, to be honest, really pretty when I visited. Different. The sky was so big and so blue (and, as my dad helpfully pointed out, really no bigger than the sky anywhere else, just not blocked by the mountains). Lord knows I could barely understand a word anyone said, but to be fair I'm sure "East Tennessee" isn't the easiest to understand either.  It didn't matter, North Carolina was not my home.

Until it was, through a series of really painful experiences that I currently have not the strength to rehash. Things had to change, for a lot of reasons, and part of that change was North Carolina.

Where, through a series of painful and sometimes hilarious experiences, I met Jason. 

Who I definitely was never going to marry.

Until I did. That was fifteen years ago,  today.

*Not a picture from the actual proposal, but so darn cute I had to share.

A lot of things have happened in the last fifteen years. Some really, really good and some really, really bad. That's life, of course. No one expects anything different. 

What I didn't expect, I guess, is that I would love this man as much as I do.

That sounds weird, I guess, but honestly the day I married him I was so in love with him I could not imagine spending one second of my life without him. Now, fifteen years later I can fully acknowledge there have been moments during which I thought, "UGH. GET AWAY", and at the same time, I cannot imagine spending one second of my life without him EVEN HARDER. EXTRA. WITH CHEESE.

*14th anniversary. I promise Jason was not as alarmed as he looks.

I can't even explain it. Well, I could try to explain it, but I think I would probably fail.
*13th anniversary after a really sweaty hike to a waterfall. Why on EARTH did we not get married in November? Holy crap.

Love is weird, I guess. In good ways and bad ways. I've always steadfastly maintained that he is not my best friend, because best friend seems to denote someone you can be fully comfortable with. I am comfortable with him (very), but I always want to try for him. I want to look nice for him. I want to make effort for him. I never leave the bathroom door open when I pee. That might just be a personal thing though.
*12 anniversary at the waterfront in New Bern. After that we went to Pepsi museum and no I'm not kidding.

 At twenty-seven, I didn't really see the future. I mean, I did in some ways. I had a job and a house and whatnot, but I didn't think about aging and our health and our careers and the places life would take us. I swear I never thought about what it really means to have two kids in college at the same time, what would happen if one of us got sick. I still cannot think about what would happen if one of us died, what would be left behind. I can't. 

Not today anyway.

Today I will think about how I loved this man so much, I let him be my family. 

And how somehow a boy who grew up in Connecticut and a girl who grew up in East Tennessee just happened to be in North Carolina at the same time. Just happened to meet each other. Just happened to fall in love and just happened to decide, yeah. This is it. This is what love is supposed to feel like. This is what family is supposed to feel like. I really mean this. This man is the truth.

I don't know if we'll ever move away from North Carolina. Maybe away from this town, maybe to the cooler, more mountainous side of the state, but there is a certain something that draws us back here. Something, perhaps that drew us here in the first place. Fate? God? I don't know. 

All I know is I love. this. man.

Now, forever, no matter where we live, no matter where we move, no matter what illness happens, no matter how much medication costs, no matter what our job situation is, no matter what. 

It's him. It's me. It's us. It's not perfect, but it's exactly what it's supposed to be.