"you are a goddamn cheetah."

I like to know the ending of things before I commit to them.  I don't like stories where you find out the bad stuff later.  I think the books should come with a warning.  I don't want the false sense of security only to find out later that your favorite character has been murdered, the couple doesn't live happily ever after, that soylent green is people.
So what I like to do is unpack all my heavy shit right off the bat.  No surprises.  I am not the girl who drinks fruity drinks and flirts casually and tumbles home and falls right to sleep without a care in the world.  I am the girl who consumes dark, gritty, graphic content.  I am the girl who will ask you how many people you've murdered when we meet in a bar (to be fair...he WAS a double Gemini).  I am the girl who goes into her closet and pulls out all the baggage so you can see it before you realize too late that I'm not the girl for you.
I used to worry about that.  I used to think I was too much.  Too intense.
I learned at 9 years old that I needed to shrink myself.  I remember it like it happened this morning.  I was in 4th grade.  I had cut my hair short like Kelly Kapowski in the college years of Saved by the Bell.  I liked the clothes I wore.  I played make believe and rode my bike for hours without a care in the world.  Then the school talent show rolled around.  I was always a performer.  I loved being the center of attention and entertaining anyone who could still still for longer than 2 minutes.  I pulled out costumes and Madonna cassette tapes and my best choreography learned from VH1 music videos (MTV was not allowed).  So when two of the most popular girls in 4th grade (and in my neighborhood) asked me to perform in the talent show with them I knew this was the moment I had trained for.  I was ready.  There were two conditions to my invitation remaining valid
1. I needed to try at let my hair grow because it was way too short to be girly
2. I needed to lose 10 pounds.
That was the first time I went home, looked in the mirror and had any whisperings of anything being wrong or different about me.
Nine years old and trying to figure out how to shrink.  Now I was too loud.  Too big.  Too different.

I think back to that moment and didn't understand how pivotal it was in shaping the next, almost 20 years of my life.  From then on I was dedicated to being the most perfect I could be.  Something about trying to be perfect though is that you will always fail.  So I would fail.  I would not lose 10 pounds in 2 weeks at the age of 9, my hair would still be short, I would not be the star of the talent show.  So I pinched my skin in the mirror so hard it would leave bruises trying to force my imperfection away.  I would lay in bed praying to be skinny or pretty.  I lost all control when my perfect outfit hadn't been washed and I had to wear something I knew those girls would find a problem with and would scream and cry and refuse to go to school.  I stopped playing with my less popular friends even though I had the most fun with them.  I changed my entire personality.  I was no longer the loud performer.  I was quiet.  Agreeable.  Afraid to cause waves.  As a teenager another popular girl I so desperately wanted to like me asked if I liked Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera better.  My obvious choice was Britney.  "Um....well I don't really know...." I stammered.  "Britney Spears is a slut" she retorted.  "Yeah totally" I agreed.  An opinion so inconsequential caused me almost panic because I was so afraid of my own feelings, thoughts, and opinions. I had shrunk myself down to the tiniest of cages in hopes of acceptance.
The first time I made a "controversial" Facebook post I was about 25 years old.  Babies had just been gunned down in their kindergarten class.  My post started "I'm so sorry about this post"  "I know some people will hate me"  "I understand if you want to unfriend me".  Shrinking myself back down into my good little girl cage.  Don't be seen.  Don't be heard.  Don't make anyone upset. Apologize for your feelings.  Beg them not to notice your faults.  Become so small you don't take up any space or exist at all.
Glennon Doyle talks about this in her book "Untamed" (which if you're a woman and have not read - leave this right now, go, I will give you my Amazon account info).  She talks about taking her kids to a safari and the animal keepers introducing them to a cheetah who thought she was a dog.  She was trained with a dog and learned to act like a dog.  To blindly chase after a small reward because that's what she had been trained to do.  She had no idea that if she remembered her wildness for 5 seconds she could tear the animal keeper to pieces and run off into the wild.  She had power.  Because she was not a dog.  She was a goddamn cheetah.
I started remembering my wildness when I started nursing school.  Suddenly, passion had been restored to my life..and I was good at it.  It made sense to me.  It clicked with me.  I came alive again.  I started to embrace my wildness.  I was ok being the one who spoke up in class.  I made jokes instead of waiting for some guy to make a more lame joke and have people think he was hilarious and amazing.  I answered questions.  I challenged myself.  I was unafraid of being wrong.  I was unafraid of being seen.
I had found the loose wire in the cage keeping me non-existent.  I became wild again.  I was a goddamn cheetah.
I graduated with honors.  I got a grown up nurse job.  I advocated for patients.  I spoke up for myself.  I stopped apologizing for my feelings.  I let myself voice my opinions. I embraced the space I took up.  I didn't pinch imperfections in the mirror because I no longer saw imperfections in the mirror.  I saw me.  I saw my thin hair I used to hate and thought of my aunt who has always had thin hair too and seems to be doing just fine.  I saw my eyes which have always been my favorite feature. My nose with the deviated septum just like my dad and my brother.  I would hear my loud laugh and remember my grandma.  I was walking history and ancestry.  I was strength.  I was power.  I was a goddamn cheetah.
I have now made it 30ish years and have become my own hero.  The hero I so desperately needed at 9 years old.  A hero to whisper - "You are not a dog, do not let them put you in that small cage of nothingness.  You are memories.  You are your parents biggest wish come to life....you are a goddamn cheetah."

2:09 AM

Sometimes my thoughts fill my brain up so much that I feel like I can't breathe without bumping into something.
So I decide to write.  Even though no one even reads blogs anymore, it's a way for me to empty my head a little.  Watch thoughts and feelings trickle out and turn from something messy into something tangible.  I love hearing the sound the keys make as I pour these thoughts out.  Each strike feels like relief.
So what's on the agenda tonight?  What is keeping me awake?  What is causing this mind claustrophobia?  Well the easiest answer would just be "me" but nothing that comes to "me" is ever easy.
Tonight I took a brief but powerful walk down memory lane.  A time about 5 years ago when I felt truly alive and free.  The walk started off breezy.  Like stepping outside on the first day of Spring.  Everything is thawing and coming alive.  In the middle of this walk I ran into a massive boulder and getting around that boulder was painful and difficult and took that first day of Spring feeling and shot it right into Canadian January.  I felt cold.  Empty.  Strange.
About 5 years ago I started coming into my own.  I started going to therapy.  I started figuring out how to love myself.  I fell in love with someone else.  My best friend.  I started slowly.  I didn't race into it like I usually do everything else in my life, maybe that's why it felt like it would be real.  It was what everyone says it will be.  It was electric and powerful and made me feel completely free in a way I had never felt before.  I spent nights with him as we poured the deepest and most secret parts of ourselves out to show each other.  I spent days with him driving in the sun with the windows down.  Music on the radio, knowing it would take at least 20 minutes to get all the knots out of my hair from the wind, but not caring because he would take those blue eyes and look right into mine while we talked.  Warsan Shire has a quote that says "His eyes were the same color as the sea in a postcard someone sends you when they love you, but not enough to stay".  And that's what he was.  He was so real and so tangible - but he was like the ocean.  Floating in and out.  Sometimes drifting away, barely reaching your toes in the sand. Other times overwhelming you and taking your breath away with the force of it.  I wrote letters to him.  I kept them in a box in my closet.  A place to keep all the words I didn't know how to say to him, childishly thinking that we didn't need those words.  That what we had was so special and so unique - convention would ruin it.  It turns out there were so many words we needed.  He hurt me.  Over and over again.   Just like the sea he would float away and come crashing back in with a storm.  I could never figure out what he wanted but when he was there I didn't care.  I just wanted him.  His laugh in my living room.  His name on my phone.  His Jeep motor coming to pick me up for some random adventure.  I allowed myself to give in completely to this crazy messy and insane feeling because...it was him.  The times he was floating away I would cling onto the good memories.  The ones of us texting rap lyrics to each other, the times when we would sing power ballads at the top of our lungs together, the Chinese food and bad 80's movie nights.  I thought those were enough.  But it wasn't.  So when he left for good - I was left hollow and empty.  The memories no longer filled me with warmth but instead they made me curl up against myself.  Feeling my bones to make sure I was still a human.  Crying so hard I ached.  Staring at the wall when there were no more tears left.
I still remember the first date I went on after he was gone.  I remember the sound of my fake laugh.  Looking out the window of the restaurant just in case he happened to be walking by. Wondering if he would be hurt to see me with someone else.  "I had a great time - do it again sometime?" came the text the next day.  "I just didn't feel anything between us" was the response.  Maybe because I didn't feel anything at all.
So here I am 5 years later.  I've tried giving myself to others.  I even consistently dated someone for awhile.  He would compliment me endlessly on how beautiful he thought I was.  He loved that I made him laugh.  I was like a quirky puzzle that he was interested in solving.  There were things he didn't like about me. My love of murder, the fact that I was a vegetarian, and the tiny detail of the fact that he felt like I was disconnected.  That I wasn't really giving him very much but pretending to.  I acted outraged but the fact was - he was right.  Quirky puzzles get tiring when you can't solve them.  Another one bites the dust.
I continue trying.  I hop on those dating apps and I swipe and swipe.  I laugh at dumb jokes.  I flirt mindlessly.  I try desperately to form a connection before realizing I'm playing pretend.
So tonight the biggest heaviest thought, the one sucking the air out of my lungs is "Can I even connect with someone again?".  Are none of these guys right?  Or am I just all wrong?  Am I looking for something unrealistic?  Am I secretly comparing every relationship to the one with him?  Is that ok?  The good parts were so good.  They were everything I ever wanted.  Is it possible to find that again with someone who stays?  I certainly haven't found that to be true.  So I continue to talk and flirt and try to connect all while looking for the next one.  Wondering if the really good thing is just around the corner.  But what if I keep looking around that corner and find nothing.  I keep running and running and just run right into myself.  How do I determine if there really is something better out there or if I'm just so irreversibly screwed up that I should just give up now.  Or do I lower my expectation?  Do I settle for someone good who doesn't make me feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest everytime I see his name on my phone. Is it still real if the sound of his voice saying my name doesn't make me want to cry it sounds so nice?  Do you only get one chance at that feeling?
It's 2:49 now.  My head feels lighter.  My heart feels heavier.  I don't miss him.  I don't think about him at all really anymore.  I'm a different person.  My favorite songs are different.  I have a new favorite color of blue that doesn't resemble his eyes at all.  Even my hair is different.  There is nothing left of the girl who was willing to give everything to him.  Who was ready to let love take her and hurt her over and over.
And maybe that is the problem.  There is nothing left.

Females Are Strong As Hell: Why I Support the Women's March

I have been thinking about writing this post for a week now.  I have been struggling to put my thoughts and feelings properly into words.  Everyone knows that prior to Donald Trump being elected as the president I was not a fan.  I felt his derogatory terms about women and his disgusting imitation of someone with disabilities was horrifying.  When the tape leaked of Donald Trump's conversation with Billy Bush, I heard a lot of people still supporting Donald Trump.  Saying that he only said the word "pussy" and we hear that word all the time.  I will repeat myself when I previously stated that it was not his use of the word pussy that was offensive (although I do find it to be quite a vile word for the female anatomy - nicknamed by men no doubt) it was his use of the word "grab".  Grab is aggressive.  Grab does not equate with consent.  Billy Bush was fired for laughing at what Donald Trump was saying.  Donald became President of the United States of America.  The most respected seat in the world.

Shortly after Donald Trump was elected you had the people he was surrounding himself with making decisions that seems antiquated and unfair.  Talks of overturning Roe v Wade, de-funding Planned Parenthood, and spreading the thought and feelings that all immigrants were terrorists.  The White House website completely changed.  There was no mention of resources for the LGBTQ community.  To my conservative and religious friends- this part is specifically for you.
I am a Christian.  I am Mormon.  I am straight.  I am white.  I am a woman.
I have never had an abortion nor have I ever been in a situation where that has been a choice I had to make.  I have never been in a position where I needed birth control and could not afford it.  I have never been in a position where my abilities or status were judged prematurely based on the color of my skin.  I have never been hurt or taunted because I was gay.
I have however experienced men saying vile, sexually aggressive things to me simply because I have a vagina.  I have been whistled at.  I have been called a stuck up bitch because I did not reciprocate those feelings or find them flattering.   I have heard comments in church alluding to the fact that men can't help it if they have so many women to choose from and another woman's feelings get hurt because of it.  I have heard other comments in church stating that it must be the woman's fault that she is not married.  There must be something wrong with her.  I have held a friend while she cried after being raped by a guy who she thought loved her.  I have held that same friend after she was told by police there was not much they could do and asking her point blank is she was "sure she said no".  Have you ever heard anyone ask someone who has just been shot "are you sure you told them not to shoot you?"

So here's where my passion for the women's march comes in to play.  I have seen many articles floating around saying "why are women doing this?  Name ONE right women LEGALLY do not have that men do!"  "Stop whining!" "What do you want?  Free manicures and pedicures???"
1. Legally you are correct.  Men and women LEGALLY have the exact same rights.  But how about the female nurses I know with years of experience getting paid less than male nurses that have just graduated nursing school?  How about the fact that this week SEVEN men were in the oval office making executive decisions (including decisions about women's reproductive rights) and that would never be seven women in a room deciding men's reproductive rights (or any rights for that matter).  How about the fact that I have seen articles calling slut-shaming and cat calling "trivial" problems.  How about the fact that rape is the only crime for which the excuse that the temptation to commit it was too powerful is considered a DEFENSE when in any other crime it would be considered an admission of guilt.  How about the fact that telling women to quit whining and we must just want free manicures and pedicures is executing the reason for the march flawlessly.

2.  I think the terms "pro life" and "pro choice" are antiquated terms based on what they are currently representing.  Pro life is the term for being anti-abortion.  And that seems to be about it.  We are demanding that women have babies but what about after the baby is born?  How are we supporting these women who have had these babies because we told them they have to?  Because we sure as hell don't want to help them with welfare either.  So we wonder why our homeless population and crime rates escalate?  I personally have religious and personal beliefs that would prevent me from having an abortion personally.  HOWEVER - my church (yes Mormon friends I'm looking at you) is in fact ROOTED in the concept of PRO CHOICE.  Free agency.  The right for us all to choose. Do WE believe in abortion?  No.  But demanding that someone makes a decision based on our personal beliefs is wrong.  If you are truly truly "pro life" (in the terms that anti-abortionists use it) then be all pro life.  Be pro welfare.  Be pro public funding for programs that help these women raise children.  Make adoption more accessible.  Otherwise this is what you sound like "Why would a crack whore have a baby???  She can't even take care of it!  A child shouldn't be raised in that environment!  Oh a gay couple wants to adopt that baby?  No.  No no no we can't do that.  That's wrong too".  MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MINDS.
3. I have seen a lot of people post about the women in the streets who were using vulgar language "more than Donald Trump ever did".  Once again.  The problem with Trump was not the term he used.  It was the aggressive use of the words around it.  These women took these disgusting terms and used them instead.  You want to say you'll grab my pussy?  How about I make a "pussycat" hat and march against you? (Because once again the hat was NOT A VAGINA.  THE HAT HAD CAT EARS.  LIKE "PUSSY" CAT.)  You want to call a woman "nasty".  I'll call myself nasty all day.  Because the only crime you could accuse a "nasty woman" of was just being a woman.  And I am in fact a woman.

4.  The march was not in ANY way shape or form a pro-abortion march.  This march included men and women.  Gay and straight.  Atheist and Christian.  Muslim.  Buddhist.  Pro life and pro choice (don't get me started on the people saying pro life people were not welcome....it was one group.  Please stop).  White, Black, Hispanic, Asian.
This was more of a march for those who were worried about their rights being taken away than anything else.  This was a march for my friends who are now even more scared to be black because of the racist comments the POTUS has made.  This was a march for my friends who are now even more scared to be gay because of the bigoted comments the VP has made.  This was a march for anyone scared that their access to free birth control, other contraceptive, STD and cancer screenings were in jeopardy because of the comments Paul Ryan made.
5.  Please stop talking about the march in broad terms  Were there some women who were being more vulgar than others?  Yes.  Were there some people making inappropriate comments about burning down the white house?  (Madonna....girl....I'm looking at you)  Yes.  Were there some who made a bigger statement about abortion than anything else?  Yes.  Nobody is perfect.  Women are just as imperfect as everyone else.  But if I were to judge you based solely on the banana balls crazy statements made by people such as Ann Coulter....I don't think you'd be very happy with me.  And PLEASE stop saying that women asking for equal rights is women acting like victims.  None of the women I know who have been through horrific things view themselves as a "victim" of anything.  We are strong.  Compassionate.  Outspoken.  Powerful.  We are not victims and I see no behavior that justifies the word victim for women who are fighting for equality.  Also please make note of the word "equality"....people like to say women want to be more than men or greater than or cut men down.  Nope.  Just equal.  I saw one sign that said "men of quality do not fear equality"....that's pretty much all we're going for here guys.

All of this is to say, I don't remember an America more angry, more divided, or more hateful than I have in the last 6 months.  What happened to love thy neighbor?  What happened to everyone matters?  What happened to bring me your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the homeless, the tempest tossed.  I feel the hatred and anger surrounding the women's march and to be honest, anyone with a differing opinion than Donald Trump - goes against every religious and personal belief I have.  I was taught by my church and my parents to speak against things that were wrong.  Where do you think the Savior would be if He were here today.  Who were the first people he went to during His ministry.  The poor.  The hungry.  The needy.  The outcasts.  The adulterers.  The prostitutes.  The imperfect.  He chose to lead with love.  Teach by example.  He never let His differing feelings or opinions cause him to look at anyone any differently.  I don't like Trump's America.  I don't think we are making anything great.  We are building walls around our country and around our hearts.  We are forgetting to help those who need us.
I was taught with love that we all have the right to choose.  I respect your right to choose to support Donald Trump.  That doesn't mean I have to.  That doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he says or does.  I respect a woman's right to choose what is best for her life and her body.  That doesn't mean you have to.  But would you force someone to eat cake just because you like it?  Do we force people to join our church just because we know it's the only way to true happiness.  No.
So...can we please spread a little more kindness.  A little more listening and talking instead of arguing and spreading hatred (it CAN happen....if you question that....message me and I'll link you to a healthy conversation I had with people about the wall along the Mexican border.  It was healthy and enlightening).  Can we brainstorm better solutions and  use our voices to truly make America great?  I think that's the America our dear Lady Liberty would want.  The America that we were always supposed to have.  The one we can have.  Because kindness is magic and human beings are magic if we let ourselves be.

Mom

I never needed my mom.  I was born with an innate stubbornness, a fierce independence, the belief that I knew everything and I could do it all on my own (except when I needed something like money or a ride...I was a real treat of a child).  I didn't talk to my mom.  I didn't share things with her.  I didn't tell her about my insecurities, being bullied, feeling like no one liked me, friends being mean to me, or any of my failures.  I wanted my parents to think I was perfect.  I wanted them to think that I had everything under control and I had it all figured out.  I was an overweight preteen with acne so...I had literally nothing figured out y'all.
When things got hard in my family I got resentful and angry.  And can you guess who I took all that anger and resentment out on?  My mom.  It wasn't fair and I'm sure Freud would have something to say about it but I did it nonetheless.
So here I am 30 years from my birth and 20 something years from ceasing to feel like I needed my mom and yet if there is one person I need more than anyone else on the earth...it's her.
So what changes?  Maturity I suppose.  Life experiences definitely.  Calling your mom from Target having a Level 5 meltdown because you don't know what kind of jam to buy can humble you a bit too.  With maturity and life experiences comes reflection.  And as I've reflected...this is what I've realized

• The woman who drove me to school and dance lessons was my mom
• The woman who calmed me down after a yelling match with my dad about homework was my mom
• The woman who would make every single holiday feel special was my mom (seriously...even Valentine's Day you guys)
• The woman who had huge dreams and the talent to make them come true but sacrificed all of that for a family was my mom
• The woman who lost her daughter and her mother within 2 years of each other and still forged ahead was my mom
• The woman who would answer the phone every day I called from college crying was my mom (this was the first time I was in college...we'll get to nursing school in a minute)
• The woman who can make you laugh until you pee your pants is my mom
• The woman who would still get up early in the morning so you don't have to walk in the cold and snow is my mom
• The woman who will answer the phone even though she's in bed and listen to me vent about hurt feelings is my mom
• The woman who would defend her children until her last breath is my mom
• The woman who passionately encourages me to pursue my dream of being a nurse is my mom
• The woman who believes in me is my mom
• The woman who taught me to value myself is my mom
• The woman who loves me even though I am still stubborn, fiercely independent, and a know-it-all is my mom
• The woman who thinks I'm wonderful even though I am terribly flawed is my mom

I wish all the time these days that I could see myself through my mom's eyes.  Moms have a special way of seeing their children.  A special way of knowing just what to say and just when to say it.  A way to keep the entire family together.  Dads are cool but moms hold it all together.  Even if you may not have your mom in your life for whatever reason...chances are....you know a mom.  And I would bet everything I have (it's not much..don't get excited) they posses these same qualities.  They will listen to you when you're elated or when your heart is breaking.  They would fight for you.  They would help you any way they could.  They would defend you and love you so much you don't know what to do with it all. 

Because moms are magic.  My mom is magic.  I don't know much...but I know that.

Dear 2016

Dear 2016,

Hey.....we need to talk.  I think we should break up.  You're worse than Kelly on Season 11 of Real Housewives of Orange County (and that's like...really really bad).
It's not like I wasn't hopeful at first.  When we got together in January I was really excited.  My previous relationship with 2015 had been pretty difficult and full of growing pains.  And just like Elizabeth Taylor (R.I.P.) I thought a new relationship would be just the answer.  I'll admit...getting into a relationship with you was a gamble considering you were an election year BUT you didn't have Ebola so that seemed like a great step in the right direction.  We started off strong with Beyonce and Peyton Manning's triumphant Super Bowl win.  And Leo FINALLY won an Oscar!  2016.....you were giving me so much joy.  I thought "finally...a relationship I can count on".

And then March came around...from there on out....you were the worst.  You overwhelmed me with your need for attention.  Between the Rio Olympic games, Harambe (R.I.P.),   and the election, I was on media overload.  Then you try to scare me with the threat of Zika.  That was a low blow after you knew about 2015's stunt with Ebola (yeah....I've mentioned Ebola twice now....it was real).  I honestly wanted to leave you then but then I would have missed out on a new season of "The Walking Dead" with you and....I mean you kind of even ruined that but we won't go there.  I just have never felt secure with you.

I'll never forgive you for taking Prince, Gene Wilder, Bowie, Alan Rickman, Gary Marshall, and Alan Thicke, among others.  And I didn't want to mention this but....the mannequin challenge?  Really?  What was that???

Then came Brexit and the trash fire that was the 2016 Presidential election.  Through all the immaturity and anger....I just really don't see myself with someone like that.  I just don't want to be with you anymore.  To be honest?  None of my friends or family really like you either.  You're just the worst to be around.  So I guess this is goodbye.  You can take you terrible political nightmare with you but please....don't take any more legends with you ok?

Thanks, 

Vanessa 

Dear Anxiety Attack

Dear anxiety attack,
in thirty minutes you will be over, but for right now you are the eye of my own storm; raging winds, hailstones the size of my self-confidence, these tiny things.  You are the deadly change in my climate.   You are a nuclear warhead in my chest and I am growing so tired of having to tear the mass casualties from my rib cage every day.
You are the constant shake of my hands.
You are a machine that no one ever has the skill to fix when you fall to pieces inside me.  A constant groaning and grinding of gears in my brain that can never seem to be adjusted.
You are worry lines in the smiles people you exhaust besides only me.  I am tired of going to bed wondering if I've lost another part of myself today.  Wondering if I lost another person you affected.  You moved into my body, not theirs.  You could at least only burn down my forest.
You are sinking into a bathtub filled with ice water.  I grow accustomed to numbness and the wonder if I will be able to keep my head above the surface.
Dear anxiety attack,
in twenty minutes you will be over, but for right now you are a cave.  No sunlight and no life thrive here, only the decay of things that actually make me feel okay.  You say I am not allowed to have freedom.
You are restrictions I put upon myself.  When you whisper that my heart is already so full of you there is no room for anything else inside my weary bones.
You are bumping into someone and wondering for the rest of the evening if I left a bruise.
You are being forced to fight a vicious war scene.  A war scene where you are usually finished with me in thirty minutes; twenty of actual panic, and ten of bonus panic for knowing I let this happen again.
Dear anxiety attack,
in ten minutes you will be over.  You are the violating feeling that I have been assaulted and harassed and beaten without the marks on my body.
You are not sorry for this.
You will never be sorry for this.
I don't think you ever knew how to be sorry.
It's been thirty minutes.  I'm fine.
Just burn this letter after you read it.
I'll write you a new one next time.

#notokay

I was 17 the first time I was sexually assaulted.  I didn't know that's what it was at the time.  I also didn't realize this would be the first time.  Of many.
I was working my first real job at a pizza place and was the only female employee.  We changed into our uniforms at work.  I frequently dealt with my shift manager "jokingly" offering to help me get dressed or joining me to change.  Brushing up against me because the space was just "so small".  He would call me Tootsie and mention better shifts if I wanted to kiss him.
He was in his 30's.
I was 17.

The first time I was catcalled I was 12.  I was walking home from school and a man driving in his car slowed down to tell me that my "legs look good in that little skirt you're wearing".  That I should be careful wearing that type of outfit around older boys.

While I was an executive at Macy's I had several male employees make vulgar or sexually driven comments to me.  Comments such as:
"You're prime meat for a man in his early 40's.  He'd be all over you"
"I bet you're the type of girl who would want big mirrors in the bedroom huh?"
"That shade of lipstick you're wearing is very sexy"
" You're a very attractive woman.  If I wasn't married I'd date you in a heartbeat"
I was an executive.  I was smart, young, driven.  I was successful and yet my worth was still boiled down by men to my appearance.

Lets not even get started at the things I've experienced with male patients at the hospital.
- telling me I look pretty good in my scrubs
- telling me to lean over a little further when I'm drawing their blood so they can see a little more
- a patient looking me dead in the eyes while he masturbates.  I was taking his blood pressure.

I get asked about my dating life a lot.  When I say I'm not dating or am turned off by dating I get asked why.  I'll let everyone know right now why.  You meet a guy.  They're not like regular guys they always say.  They're good guys.  They are respectful.
And then after a couple dates you get texts like
"So do you shave your pussy?"
"Trust me, you'd want me to go down on you"
When you tell them you're not interested or you don't appreciate being talked to that way the response is
"I knew you were just a stuck up bitch"
"You're not that hot.  You should feel lucky I'd offer"
"Just another Mormon prude huh?  I thought you were chill"

I've told these stories before and have been told by men and women that I should be flattered.  Flattered.  Sexual comments and advances that are not reciprocated or asked for is assault.  There is nothing flattering about assault.  And what's even crazier to me is that instances like this are considered normal.  Even if the comments aren't necessarily vulgar or sexually driven it is still universally accepted that women exist for the pleasure of men.  That if we aren't grateful for their attention or their advances, we are just stuck up bitches.
These are just a few of my personal stories.  I have many more and I know many of my friends and families have them as well.  And these are just stories of sexual assault....not even rape.  More of my female friends have been raped than not.  I have struggled to express why I am so passionate about this topic.  Why I have been so vocal about my disgust with Donald Trump.  My absolute horror that anyone could still support him and respect him as a human being let alone as President of the United States.  The fact that Donald Trump would play off his vulgar and disgraceful remarks as "locker room talk" and that they are "just words" and people ACCEPT that is the PROBLEM.  When someone says it's normal and ok for a man to talk about a woman's body as something they  have a right to.....that is rape culture.   Rape culture is real.  If you need further proof...look at the hashtag #notokay on Twitter.  Millions of women have spoken out about their own sexual assaults.  Kelly Oxford, the woman who started the hashtag, said that if you saw these tweets as a ticker on a news station you would think there was a war on women.  Because there is.  It is not made up.  It is real.  It is a problem.  And it has to change.  Boys need to be taught women are to be respected.  Girls need to be taught that it is ok if you are not flattered by male advances.
This was not meant to be a political statement.  Obviously this has been a huge topic because of a political figure and his comments however it is much much bigger than that.  I encourage you to take these things into consideration. I would encourage you to speak out against sexual assault.  Read through the hashtag on Twitter, read my friend Shaina's brave and personal account.
Let's change this.  Let's start by not perpetuating this false belief that this is normal talk for men.  It is not.  It is not ok.  Women deserve better and hell...men deserve better than this reputation that they are all some testosterone crazed sex animals.
We are humans and we all deserve respect as such.
The end.

Making Weak Things Strong

I haven't updated my blog for a long time.  I think it's because I was feeling like my blog had taken such a serious turn.  I used to post funny fashion blogs, TV reviews...etc.  But I think once you feel comfortable enough to share who you are and be vulnerable...you don't know how to do anything else.  Writing has always been an outlet for me.  I have an entire huge box of journals still packed away in a box in my parent's basement (NOT labeled journals so don't go looking for them Mom!)
I would write every single day.  Some are mundane...others are pages filled with injustices I felt I had experienced.  My preteen years were filled to the brim of injustices....obviously.  But writing helped me get all those feelings out.  So here I am again.  It kind of feels like visiting an old friend.  A friend who knows you completely and is willing to listen to everything you have to say without judgement.  So friend.....let's talk.
I feel like over the last couple of years I have completely transformed myself.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually.  I lost weight, I quit my job and started pursing nursing, I really rooted my testimony.  The last couple of months I have felt myself completely unravel.  There were a couple of experiences that started this feeling in motion.  It started to feel like a tiny ball of snow that started rolling down a hill and became a monstrous thing that I couldn't control.  Honesty?  Yes.  Let's go with honesty....
I lost control of my eating habits.  I felt myself gaining weight.  I could tell I was losing control of something I had been so proud of.   I didn't know how to get it back.
I shut myself out.  I stayed in my room for days alone.  I felt worthless.  I felt like there was no possible way anyone could love me or want to be around me.
I stopped reading my scriptures, saying my prayers, and going to church.
When I say I completely lost control....I meant it.
I have been, in a word, miserable.  But through the power of social media....I have been totally fine.  Bright, shiny, funny, full of life.  I've felt like I've been lying.  Almost like I had possessed the body of who I used to be so I was pretending to be that person but didn't actually know how.  All this was going on while I also watched friendships fall apart, came under a huge amount of financial stress, and had a couple of health issues.  Drowning.  Drowning is the only way I know how to describe it.
Tonight it all came to a head.   I knew I had to make a choice.  I knew I couldn't get anything back by continuing on the same road I had been on.  So I went back to the basics.  And I prayed.
Tonight was the first night I have understood the phrase "broken heart and a contrite spirit".  Every single part of my body inside and out have been hurting.  I apologized to my Heavenly Father for being so weak.  And the scripture came to mind...
"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness.  I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them"
Ether 12:27
We are here to be tried and tested.  We are here for a purpose.  We are here to become strong.  There is nothing wrong with weakness.  Weakness and emptiness allows us the opportunity to become strong.  To be filled with the spirit and love of the Lord.  I came across this picture and it has brought me so much peace

In every single dark moment...there is light.  The light that comes only from our Heavenly Father who knows us perfectly and loves us perfectly. 

I still don't know exactly how to get back to who I used to be....but maybe I'm not supposed to.  Maybe I'm supposed to just keep going and changing and become someone else totally new. 

Someone who is maybe just a little stronger. 

To The Man Who Will Love Me Someday....

To the man who will love me someday,
I don't know who you are right now and that's ok.   I just wanted to give you some advice before you sign up for me.  We both know I'm pretty cool and that's probably why you like me.  However, there are some things you should know about me.  The times when I am a little less cool.
I will have rough days.  I don't know if you've ever lived with someone who suffers from anxiety.  I don't know if you've ever had to come home and comfort a person you love from an invisible monster that lives inside them.  If anxiety were a visible illness, you could see the scars from the battles I fight on a daily basis and the bruises from when my anxiety is beating me up inside.  You can't though.  You just have to trust I'm fighting every day to be the best version of myself for me and for you.
If I'm really honest with myself, I'm not even sure you exist.  I'm not sure there is such a person who would be willing to sign up for the mess I can be sometimes.  The thought of that type of relationship is exciting but also terrifying.  My fear is that everything that comes with the human being that is me is going to drive you away someday.  That even if I do ever meet you, that you won't stay around for very long.  I can't control it.  And that scares me too.  I understand most of the time it's the anxiety being fearful, telling me I'm not worthy of the love of someone.  I know anxiety is a liar.  I am worth being loved.  In fact, the blessing and curse of being able to feel things so incredibly deeply means that I will love you deeply.  My passion, compassion, and empathy will make me a great partner and great mom to the kids we may have someday.  I just need to be reminded of that on the days when I'm overcome by the anxiety.
I'm sorry that sometimes I will lack the ability to use my words.  I will wish I could explain to you why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling and what drives me into feeling that way.  Nine times out of 10 I can't pin down the reason.  Sometimes all I can do to help is share articles written by others who have gone through the same thing.
One last thing...I know this will affect you.  I know you'll want to help but you might not be able to.  I know it can be frustrating.  A lot of times my anxiety can come across as needy, pushy, obsessive.  Please take the extra time to understand why I'm acting that way and know me well enough to know I would never do any of that intentionally.  Many of the things I say and do should be attached with the hashtag "anxiety".  Laugh with me on the good days, let me cry on the bad ones.  I have other things about me that you'll also inevitably find annoying - the loud volume and voice I use to listen to rap music, my loud laugh ,the times I may take too much Benadryl and get a little weird...
as long as the anxiety doesn't make you run away, we can work through the rest of the things too.
xoxo
Ness

Guy-free Week

This post has been a long time coming.  Mostly because nursing school sucks the life out of you and when you have free time (which you get maybe 25 minutes of every 2 weeks) all you want to do is sleep.  That being said....I have something important that I want to talk about.  Guys, boys, dudes, bros, men, males.  

All of the above.  More specifically, women's relationships with them.

Being 29 and and unmarried and being surrounded by women who are close to my same age and also unmarried, dating is a huge topic of discussion.  Dates we're going on, guys we want to date, past relationships, possible future relationships, etc.  It dominates conversations.  I don't think there's anything wrong with talking about dating.  It's fun and trust me...we've had more than a few laughs at some unfortunate situations we've been put in as well as some of the unfortunate men we've invited into our lives.  A few weeks ago I was feeling very introspective.  I get that way sometimes when I'm feeling particularly anxious.  I kind of take inventory of what is going on and what could be contributing to some of the anxiety.  I realized that I put a lot of pressure on myself to be dating.  To be honest I am not really dating at all.  I like to say it's because I'm so busy and focused on school work but full disclosure, I am also not being asked on dates.  I don't say that to make myself seem sad or pitiful.  I really am ok because I am incredibly focused on school and work and I have a great group of close friends who I completely adore.  But sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly vulnerable, I start to blame myself for not being asked on dates.  And it's always the same reason: I'm just not enough.  Enough being whatever I'm feeling insecure about that day: pretty enough, smart enough, skinny enough, entertaining enough, fun enough, mature enough, adventurous enough...you get the picture.

So I thought to myself....how can I take some pressure off and let some of this go?  So I initiated "guy free week".  Guy free week had a few rules- the first rule of guy free week is you don't talk about guy free week (ha ha I'm hilarious).

The real rules of guy free week included:

- No talking about dating

- You could text guys but you could not hang out with them

- No talking about guys or venting about anything frustrating they were doing or not doing

For a week.  Sounds easy right? We are all strong independent women.  We have hopes and dreams and aspirations.  Career goals.  Big personalities.  We had other things to talk about! Well...it was easier for some than for others (I won't name names...) and there's nothing wrong with that... but the results for me were incredible.  I was way more focused and driven than I've been in a long time.  I felt less stressed.  I felt physically lighter and like I was enjoying every day of my life more.  Now I can't really say that having guy free week was the only reason.  Maybe I was getting more sleep or maybe I was just feeling more confident- but I do know that I realized that I was being much more affected by the dating obsession than I thought I was.  Which lead me to do some thinking....

We as women have been ingrained with the idea that we live for the attention of men, from a very early age.  So many of the movies I grew up watching centered around the plot line that a woman had to change herself in order to catch that special guys eye.  Magazine covers STILL entice with promises of giving you "13 Amazing Tips to Make Him Want You".  They usually involve flirting demurely, how to dress to slim your body, and wear enough make up to be alluring but not too obvious (guys don't like a lot of make up you know).  I've heard things from people around me: don't cut your hair because guys like long hair, guys like a good butt so make sure to do your squats, wearing high heels will make you more feminine and attractive to men.  Be spontaneous - guys want a girl who will go on adventures with them, but also show that you're reliable because men want a steady woman at home to raise the children.  Be funny, but don't act like the center of attention because men don't want to be with a show off.  Eat hamburgers and pizza because guys like a girl who can eat, but not too much because then you'll seem like a slob.  I know this may seem dramatic to some but it's the reality of the world we live in.  Yes, it's getting better.  Women are being more empowered to be who they are and to not live for the attention of men, but sometimes I feel like it's still this looming expectation (especially in the place I live...). 

I just hope that every woman in my life will understand their real worth.  That they will understand that the attention of men is not defining.  Yes, it's nice.  Don't get me wrong, there is something really nice about having that guy in your life that is different than your other relationships.  But I hope that none of the people I love ever feel like if they don't have that - they are lacking something, or that they need it to function. Find out who you are without it.  Explore by yourself, go on trips, discover a new hobby or talent. Do you!
 I am so proud of the strong women in my life and for the support I've received from others.  My mom (God bless that woman) even said to me the other day "I'm glad you aren't dating.  You are doing more with your life and have more to focus on right now.  I want all your focus to be on school" and my heart burst with gratitude.  My parents have never put pressure on me to date.  For a long time I thought that my parents also didn't think I was pretty enough to be dating (I know guys....I'm  in therapy for a reason)  but hearing them tell me that I am more than dating was relieving.  Dating is fun.  I love dating!  I just don't ever want dating or not dating to define me.  And I hope it won't define any other woman either.  

Also I highly suggest guy free week.  You might be surprised by the results.  

However if this guy ever shows up......

immediately end guy free week.  That is a command.  

xoxo

V

2016 Resolutions

Here we are again.  As we've done in years previous....let's do a quick recap of the last couple of years resolutions....

I started off strong in 2014

And last year was pretty good...and I feel good about how much I accomplished in 2015.

So here's the reveal of my 2016 resolutions (because I know you've been dying to know).

Last year I learned a lot about myself and I grew a lot.  In 2016 the focus is going to be enjoying things more.  Last year all the changes and hard times were really stressful and I think I forgot to enjoy the beauty of life.  So that's what I plan to do more in 2016.  Keep working on myself and enjoy it!

Happy New Year everyone!!!

P.S. A resolution of mine is always to get through the entire movie "The Dark Crystal" which I've never done because it scares me.  I tried this year.  I got 15 minutes in.  There's always 2017.

Also you can check out previous New Year resolutions HERE

An introduction

Hello everyone!

I want to introduce you to someone very special to me.

This is high school Vanessa.

Yes...the awkward one in the middle.

I got to thinking about high school Vanessa today and got a little emotional and just felt like sharing.  

High school Vanessa struggled.  Hard to imagine I know.  High school Vanessa moved to a new school her freshman year of high school.  High school Vanessa had dreams about what she wanted her life in high school to be.  She wanted to be popular.  The problem is...high school Vanessa didn't know that no matter what she did..she would never be popular.  But she doesn't know this yet.  High school Vanessa was terrified of being different or standing out.  If she liked things that would be considered "weird" she kept them to herself.  She bought all the make up she thought she needed to be prettier.  She tried buying the clothes she thought would make her seem like she fit in.  She even let popular kids cheat off her tests freshman year because she thought that would make them like her more.  High school Vanessa cared very very very much about what other people thought about her.  

But high school Vanessa was not popular.  High school Vanessa did not have status, money, or looks.  High school Vanessa was awkward, overweight, and scared.  

I got to thinking about who I am today.  I realized that I am weird.  I am goofy.  I am still painfully awkward.  And I started crying.  I started crying because my heart hurt a little bit for high school Vanessa.  High school Vanessa was spending so much time worrying about what other people thought about her that she never enjoyed herself.  Don't get me wrong...high school Vanessa had wonderful friends.  But she always held herself back a little bit.  High school Vanessa was part of the drama club and all the school plays but never tried out because she was afraid.  High school Vanessa lived vicariously through everyone else around her.  

There are still days when high school Vanessa sneaks in.  

When I'm looking in the mirror and telling myself I'm not pretty enough and that nobody will ever like me.  

When I hold myself back because I'm afraid of what other people think.  

It happens to all of us occasionally.  But I'm so grateful that the majority of my days I can look at myself and be so happy with who I am today.  Because I have worth.  I am strong, powerful, caring, compassionate, funny (sometimes), and I love life.  Sometimes I take too much Nyquil and climb banisters, sometimes I cry in sloth exhibits at the zoo, sometimes I make embarrassing lip sync videos and send them to my friends.  It's just who I am.  And I've adopted the attitude that if you don't like who I am....watch me be who I am even more.

I hope everyone adopts this attitude. 

So welcome high school Vanessa.  Thank you for teaching me things.  I wish I could go back in time and hug you and tell you that you are so much more than the opinion of those who don't know you.  That you are funny and smart and good. But since I can't....I'll just give you all the things now that you wish you had then.

xoxo

V

This One's For You

To any girl reading this:
I've been thinking about my life and all the lessons I've learned and I thought....if I could share anything I've learned in life...what would it be?  What advice would I give my sisters? It's taken me a lot of heart and hurt to learn the lessons I have on
 1. Friends
 2. Boys
 3. Yourself

Friends.
Who you invest your time into should be willing to invest the same amount of time in you.  You should never feel like less than who you are with your friends. Don't feel like you have to compete with your friends.  If you ever feel like someone isn't supportive of you or they are not happy for your happiness...they are not your friend. You should never feel like who you are isn't accepted with your friends.  Sometimes your friends will be the worst...and sometimes so will you.  Look deeper at people.  Forgive.  Friendship takes so much forgiving and someday you'll need the same forgiveness that you give.

Boys.
A part of me wants to write "boys are dumb" and leave it at that....but you already know that.  I think the main thing I've learned when it comes to boys is that no matter what...they can't define you.  One day you might give your heart to someone who just doesn't know what to do with it.  This will hurt.  This will hurt so much.  It does not mean that someone someday won't see the depth of the love you have and be willing to swim deeper rather than stay on the shore.  One day you might realize that the boy you love isn't the boy you are supposed to love.  That's ok too.  It's ok to say no to something or someone.

Yourself.
Whoever you are is the perfect person to be.  Sometimes you will feel like you're too loud or too quiet.  Sometimes you will feel like your heart could burst with all the love you're capable of sharing.  Sometimes you will feel like your heart could burst with all the love that you feel will never been reciprocated.  Sometimes you will cry or maybe you will never cry.  Sometimes you will be best friends with everyone and sometimes you will need to be alone.
All of this. Every single thing is ok.  It's ok to feel and be all of these things.  Be who you are.  Love yourself and never apologize for what that might be.  Love with everything you have, laugh too loud, dance too much.  Live life on your own terms.  Anybody who is worth having in your life will accept who you are.  Every single part of you.  Don't waste time on those who don't see you and appreciate everything you have to give.

xoxo

V

Lessons I Learned in 2014

I've been reflecting a lot on what I've learned over the last year.  2013 was a tough year for me and I promised myself that in 2014 I would change a lot.  And I learned many important lessons:

• There is no occasion that doesn't call for red lipstick
• You can live without Diet Coke (I know....I know)
• Sometimes you just need to spend an entire day watching terrible movies on Hallmark
• You will not laugh as much with anyone as you do with your family
• It's important to be thrifty and save money...but never buy cheap foundation, sheets, or razors.
• Don't invest time in people who won't do the same for you
• Take a selfie.  Post it.  Who cares what anyone else thinks.
• Window seats and rainy days are the beginnings of a perfect day
• Celebrate your successes and learn from your failures
• People will always make assumptions about you and most of them will be wrong but you don't have to defend yourself to anyone

I think the biggest lesson I learned and change I made was learning to invest in myself.  I'm a firm believer in the fact that we can't really ever be happy until we love ourselves and accept ourselves for who we are.  I don't think we should be complacent because I think we should always be improving ourselves.  This does not mean we will be perfect.  We have flaws....I certainly do.  I love things too much.  I let things hurt me too deeply.  I sing to Taylor Swift songs way too loud.  I look at pictures of sloths too much.
Just to name a few.
But our flaws are what make us who we are.  Because I love things too much I am able to accept other people's flaws, I might get hurt deeply but at least it means I'm sensitive and I care, and if listening to a Taylor Swift song too loud is the worst thing I do...then I think I'm doing ok.
I embraced my flaws this year and changed the things I wanted to change.  I became more confident and comfortable with who I am and mostly....I learned to love myself.  I started becoming a person that I'm proud of.  A person I would want to be friends with.
That is what I would challenge everyone to do.  Get to know yourself.  Embrace who you are.  Change the things you aren't proud of.  Surprisingly.....life becomes so much more beautiful when you do this...I promise.
As for the sloths....I can't defend it...but I probably also won't stop it.
Haters gonna hate.
xoxo
V

Isn't That Something?

The first person who saw your face was delighted by you. Isn’t that something? You managed to bring joy only by breathing. 
Your mother will occasionally peek through the cracks of your door when you are sleeping, even now, to make sure that she can see the movements of your chest. 
The boy who kissed you in the park last night isn’t in love with you, he won’t even stay, but he meant every second of those minutes. 
You’ll walk a city street that your feet have never touched before and you’ll be terrified of getting lost and that feeling is what’ll help you find the way home. 
You’ll give your money to a homeless man and he will hold your hand firmly between his and he will say ‘thank you so, so much’ and isn’t that something?
There’s a piece of music that makes your heart feel like it’s bleeding. Listen to it. Listen to it again. 
When was the last time you paused to stare at night time? 
Did you know that there is at least one person in your life who will jump in front of a hail of bullets for you, without your asking. 
Your entire body is made of nerves. Feel things. 
Take walks in places you’ve never been. 
Take photographs of people not everyone considers beautiful. Find loveliness in them. 
Let go of the things that are killing you from the inside out. 
One day you’re going to be part of the sky, you’re going to be that beautiful and that necessary but not today. Not today.

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that I couldn't follow the 'rules' of being a lady.  I'm sorry that I fell in love with you before you could fall in love with me.  I'm sorry that I didn't know how to play hard to get.  I'm sorry that I wasn't mysterious enough.
I'm sorry that I was nice.  I'm sorry that I was 'kind' that I was unable to playfully hit you.  I'm sorry that I was too honest, that I didn't know how to keep secrets from you.  I'm sorry that I was considerate.  I'm sorry that I cared about your needs more than I did with mine.  I'm sorry for the time when I adjusted my schedule just so I could come out and support you when you asked me to.  I'm sorry that I didn't set many boundaries because I trusted you.  I'm sorry that I loved you as if I'd never been hurt.
I'm sorry that I was so sensitive.  I'm sorry that I had to take a minute or two to digest your sarcasm.  I'm sorry that I cared about you more than I should.  I'm sorry that I cared to the point where I over-analyzed the details just so I knew how to not hurt you.  I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to handle my emotions.  I'm sorry that I was willing to take extra steps to love you like I wished you could love me.  I'm sorry I was willing to face my fears for you.
I'm sorry.  I'm sorry that I can't change.  I'm sorry.

.....things I've wanted to say to someone but never did.

Let's Chat

So normally I do my weekend collage but due to the events of the weekend....I'm just not feeling up to that....so I'm going to do more of a chatty little post if you don't mind.  We're all friends here so I know you won't.
This weekend was a strange one.  I'll spare you the details but we had a bit of a family emergency and then I ended up fighting off a major migraine and just wrapped the weekend up with a panic attack.  Delightful right?
I haven't had a panic attack in quite some time so this one totally took me by surprise....well most panic attacks take me by surprise. All of a sudden I couldn't breathe and I was crying for no reason. That's just one of the many reasons why a panic attack is the queen of all mean girls.  She teases you, hurts you, makes you feel like you will never feel okay again and her timing is a bitch!  Tonight it happened right as I was about to go hang out with some friends.  I hate when that happens.  One of the reasons why is that when it happens like that, all of your friends who don't understand just chalk it up to you being "anti social" or "boring".  That's not it at all.  I wanted to be social.  I wanted to have fun.  Unfortunately I was a little busy remembering how to breathe.  You can't just tell people that either because they think you're seeking attention or being dramatic.
I'm quite an extroverted person....I just happen to be an extrovert with severe social anxiety.  And I don't know how to explain that to my friends or how to explain it to anyone really.  So I just pretend I'm tired and hope that no one thinks I'm lame.  I found this quote on the internet and while it's a little dramatic it's the closest I've ever found in explaining how this anxiety or how a panic attack feels

I don't suffer so much from the depression side of it although I know a lot of people do.  It's hard.  All of it is hard.  We're all just trying our best and we want to feel "normal".  So be kind to each other out there because you have no idea what anyone else is going through or why they do the things they do.

Other than all of that my weekend was great ;)

Tell me your happy weekend stories....or not so happy.  I don't mind listening to either.  

xoxo

V

Be Soft

I stumbled across this quote again recently and it's always been a favorite of mine.  It always makes me stop and think.  A few years ago I had a tendency to be very abrasive, hard, maybe a lot little like a word that rhymes with itch and has a B at the beginning?  Maybe just at bit......

 I saw sweetness and gentleness as weakness.  That if I was nice or friendly then people would think they could just walk all over me.  I'd be the "sweet girl" and I wanted to be the tough chick. I don't really know what changed.  Life experiences?  Maturity?  Both? I am now the person who annoys the group of friends because I can't just judge and bitch about other people anymore.  I always see the other side to everyone's story.  I used to be the person who my family called a robot.  Now it hurts me when they say that because I feel things so strongly with and for other people.  I CRY WATCHING SWIFFER COMMERCIALS.  I'm soft.  I don't mind being sweet because I no longer equate it with being weak.  I equate it with being strong.  Strong enough to be soft and know that it's ok because I'm still confident who I am.  

I think it's something we all learn eventually.  I used to want to be the girl that people were afraid of because of how much I didn't care.  Now I just want to be the girl that anyone could talk to and who everyone can say "she's so nice!".  I don't mind being that person and I challenge everyone to be the same.  It's ok to be nice.  It's ok to be approachable.  Be strong, be confident, be sweet.  It's all ok.  I heard another quote that has quickly climbed the ranks as an all time favorite of mine

"We need women who are so strong they can be gentle, so educated they can be humble, so fierce they can be compassionate, so passionate they can be rational, and so disciplined they can be free."

-Kavita Ramdas

I love that.  That is what I aspire to be.  Any thoughts you have on the topic?  Any other thoughts on your mind?  Let's learn and grow together! :)

Leave a comment! 

xoxo

V

my journey...

So the challenge is to share a personal journey....

I thought for a long time about what I could possibly write about that anyone would even want to read. I guess I'm a "blogger"...at least I have a blog. My friends and family read it but they're kind of obligated to aren't they?
I love to write and as I was thinking about this opportunity I couldn't come up with anything to write about. I'm 24...I have a 9-5 job working for Lancome cosmetics, I love television, I have a dog, and I have a very unhealthy addiction to Diet Coke, but what do I really have to say?
I started jotting down ideas that looked something like this:

- the day I stopped wearing stirrup pants
- my life working in the cosmetic industry
- jon hamm

So yeah....it was looking bleak. And then I was telling a story to a co-worker about my times working at a hospital and the way it changed my life and all of a sudden I knew that's what I could write about. Death. Now before you roll your eyes and think "oh here we go"...death, while a morbid subject, is also one that is the most difficult to talk about but one that we will ALL have to talk about at one point or another. It is the one common thread that laces us all together. We will all lose someone we love. How do we cope with it? How do we weave through the complicated emotions and find peace?

My first experience with death was when my Grandfather died when I was 6. I think this is most people's first experience with death. A grandparent. I was close to him but I was young and didn't understand the permeance of the situtaion. I didn't feel the pain and shock and devastation at that age. It wasn't until I was a teen, going through old photos, when I really realized what I was missing.

In 2004 my mom gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. I was 18 at the time, a college student. I was in Idaho going to school and my sister was born with down syndrome (which we knew would be the case). I was so excited to be flying home for Christmas and to be able to meet her for the first time. She was still in the hospital due to the complications that come with having down syndrome.

It was November 28th. I was staying with friends for Thanksgiving break and was jolted from sleep by someone telling me my Dad was on the phone. The first words out of his mouth were "are you awake enough to understand what I'm about to tell you". I'll never forget that. I didn't have any idea that what he would say next would completely change my life. "Reagan had some complications, she went in for surgery and she didn't make it, she passed away". My beautiful, innoncent baby sister was gone, after only 11 days of life. Before I even knew her. This event changed everything. I didn't know how to cope or how to talk about it. I had to be strong. For my parents, for my younger siblings. I didn't talk to anyone I just acted like I was ok. After her funeral I never even went to her grave. I just couldn't be there.

A year later my grandmother and best friend in the entire world died of renal cancer. I was devastated once again. I felt the pain that took my breath away but instead of dealing with it I became angry and bitter.

In 2008 I started working at a hospital as a nursing technician. I worked on an Ortho/Neuro/Spine unit. I went to work on a Sunday night. Things were busy but they were going ok. I had this patient who I had been taking care of for quite some time. She had come in for an ankle fracture and when they went to do her surgery she had coded while on the operating table. They figured she had had a stroke. She ended up being in the ICU for about a week to 2 weeks and then she was transferred back down to our floor. I had gotten to know her sister and her family that frequently came up to stay with her. Because of her stroke she wasn't doing very well...she was unresponsive and didn't move around on her own. Sunday night as I got report from the nurses I heard she had been doing a lot better. She had been responding to questions, moving around on her own, following commands. At around 5 AM I went in to take her morning vitals and everything was fine. I left her room and went into another. 9 minutes later her sister came out and said..."I don't think she's breathing". So we ran in there and she was totally unresponsive. We started chest compressions, got the crash cart, and called a code blue. I was in there helping for awhile but ended up going back out with her family. Her sister was sitting at the nurses station crying and I was doing my best to comfort her. 30 minutes later- the doctor came out and told us she was dead. I was floored. I had JUST been in there. What didn't I see? What could I have done? We are taught that when a patient dies you have to "check out" emotionally and be there for the family as a support. It is not your time to mourn. I found myself in a supply closet sobbing. After it happened I went in and cleaned her and it was a strange but spiritual experience....preparing a body for a soul who has already passed. Her sister came into the room with me and watched. I asked her how she was doing. She said "Sometimes baby, things just happen, I know my sister is much happier now than she was here." I was stunned at her peace with the situation. I sat next to her and told her I admired her strength. I told her how difficult it was for me to lose people that I loved and never had the amount of grace she had. She replied "God has the grace, we just have to be willing to trust Him."
That conversation with that woman, although brief, and that experience changed my life. I had lost loved ones. But we all will. It happens. It hurts. The pain builds inside us until we don't know what to do. But I have learned that God has grace. You can not plan every aspect of life. You just have to trust. I found a quote once by Gilda Radner that says

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity"

That is how we should live our lives. Not being angry about things we have no control over. But making the best of every moment - even the ones you had while wearing stirrup pants (oh come on...you know you did too). That's what I'm trying to do now. Make the best of every moment.
So that's my personal journey. I'm not sure what kind...spiritual maybe or just a journey. Either way it's mine and it's probably a journey you'll have too. The path might look a little different but I hope the destination is the same.