A Welcomed Guest
May 22nd, 2011 § 5 Comments
Day 141
There’s something to be said for having a friend visit. And that something is it’s wonderful.
I’ve always had a tendency to conform to change fairly well. In the last two weeks my routine has done somersaults. leaving me with little to no time to even think about the flip flop in timing and schedules. With Lisa’s visit, I’ve gotten the chance stop, slow down and remember and realize that life is for the enjoying. And, well, the slowing down.
Blend Birthday
March 18th, 2011 § 3 Comments
Day Seventy-Seven
It’s hard to believe that just about a year ago I attended FitBloggin and met some amazing women – blends! – who happened to share the same interests as me. And as if it wasn’t enough that we all devoted our time to this crazy little hobby, it just so happened that we had a lot of other things in common, too. Life beyond our blogs, it seemed, was just as relatable as what we read on screen. Prior to the conference, I had never read Gracie’s blog. Fast forward to today and it’s one I read every single day.
As is often the case, Gracie and I have grown closer via email over this last year. We’ve faced a lot of similar struggles and have turned to one another for advice and support. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of pride and admiration when she made the big move a few months ago and started life on her own in the big city.
I was lucky enough to spend an evening with her while I was in New York. We reunited at a favorite spot of mine, catching up over crostini and chatting about an array of topics that email, busy schedules and life changes get in the way of. As it always goes, the time was too short but the company was just right.
I love reading Gracie’s blog because it’s unpredictable. The recipes are there, yes, but she also talks about her outlook on life, the importance of her faith and shares silly stories. I’ve learned from reading her blog – about makeup and beauty and prayer and friendship. Health is important to her, but it’s not the only thing in her life. She’s got a killer sense of fashion and many mornings, leaves me looking at life in a different light. As a consumer of many, many types of media, there’s nothing that keeps me coming back more than that.
Today Gracie celebrates her 24th birthday. I got to be one of the first to wish her an amazing year on Wednesday. I’m so blessed and thankful for our friendship and can’t wait to see what the next year has in store. Please head over to her blog and wish her a Happy Day!
Happy Birthday gorgeous Gracie! xo
Handmade Support
November 18th, 2010 § 11 Comments
There are plenty of great posts out there on how to be a great spectator (see here and here) at someone’s race. It’s certainly not something to be taken lightly – I mean, you wake up early, trek down to the race site to stake out a good spot and then post up and wait. As easy as it may seem to complain about all this “responsibility” and “how cold/hot it is” and how you’re “so tired,” let’s get real here – you’re sitting on your keister, sipping coffee watching people work their butts off. It is not your place to do anything but feel inspired and proud.
This was at mile 16 – this girl is seriously amazing. She had just asked me, “So, do you wanna grab some breakfast?”
I’ve been on both sides of the barrier and I can tell you having crowd support is key in a race. Having someone who is there specifically for you makes all the difference in the world. As a spectator, there is nothing more amazing than watching hundreds or even thousands of people push themselves to accomplish a goal. I’m usually the weepy one on the sidelines tearing up at anything – runners with emotional sayings on their shirts, families spotting their athlete and breaking into World Series screams, realizing every Starbucks in New York has a line out the door on marathon morning.
Can you spot her? So inspiring – between 25 and 26.2.
Speaking of the New York City Marathon, it was kind of the center of my trip there a few weeks ago. In case you missed it, let me bring you up to speed. One day, Alex said to me, “So, I’m running the New York Marathon.” And I said, “I’M COMING!” Poor girl didn’t even have a chance.
I wanted to show the greatest amount of support on the smallest budget and in the most convenient of ways (read: get it there in a carry-on bag.) I knew the traditional poster board and markers bit just wasn’t going to cut it.
Since I have been spending a good amount of time at Hobby Lobby lately, I remembered seeing these babies on display with the bolts of fabric. There’s five colors here and I am a terrible crafty lady who can’t remember the dimensions but let me tell you it was more than enough for this project. After purchasing a fabric marker, my bill came in at less than $12. Bargains, folks, I’m all about the bargains.
I returned home to start planning my homemade sign.
My original intent was to create one square per letter to spell out “Happy Go Lucky Alex.” I was going to sew it together with ribbon, like a banner. When I realized I’d need three sets of arms and about three additional feet in height to hold it up, my plans changed. Before that epiphany, though, I cut the squares of cloth down into sixteen (somewhat even) square with my favorite scissors.
Once I laid everything out and discovered the whole need for additional arms and height thing, I reworked my plan.
We’re very technical around here, in case you couldn’t tell.
Again, I laid out and started working. I didn’t want to use felt cut-out letters or all capital letters, so I decided to just go with my own somewhat cursive handwriting.
I made another self-discovery doing this: I do not like to sew. I don’t even want to know how I thought I was going to sew a string of ribbon along the borders of this sign without it looking like a crazed elf who snuck into Santa’s workshop after a little too much eggnog at the holiday party. It also didn’t help that it was the night before I had a 3:30 a.m. wake-up call to catch my flight. I decided to enlist my trust to a slew of safety pins. I ran the ribbon – note: it was a thick, heavy sturdy ribbon, not a silky thin ribbon – both horizontally and vertically across the back to give it as much stability as possible. I couldn’t have my runner looking forward to a limp piece of fabric – it had to stand out amongst the crowds! This was the New York City Marathon, after all. Go big or go home!
This baby packed up nicely into a ziplock bag and definitely stood out. I was more than proud to wave it around and cheer her on and moved beyond words to give her a hug after all was said and done and proclaim, “You’re a marathoner!”
Oh yeah, then we got breakfast.
So, there you have it. I’m sure many of you out there know your way around a Singer sewing machine and could run stitches around me, but what matters in the end is the heart and thought you put behind it. I think this could also work as a great gift for a baby shower, a child’s room or a birthday party. Just don’t wait until midnight to do it. And steer clear of the eggnog – well, at least until you’re done.
My New York State of Mind
November 15th, 2010 § 16 Comments
It’s been awhile since I’ve had anything deeply meaningful to say. I knew New York would change that. It’s amazing how a city, a place, a location, can change the way someone looks at life.
The whole time we were there I just kept telling myself, remember everything about this moment.
I made a physical effort to take it all in. I wanted to recall how I felt and what I saw. I wanted to remember smells and sights right down to their acute details. I wanted to hear snippets of conversation of passersby and be able to share them. I wanted to gather up each emotion my senses went through, bottle it and keep it in a jar for another day, put it on a shelf to look at longingly, paint it in a picture to hang in every space I ever live in. Remember. All I wanted was to remember.
In a sense, I wanted to be a journalist again. That’s what a good one does – paints the picture for their reader so vividly that it’s impossible not to imagine themselves there. When I feel like a journalist, I feel alive. I feel like all of life’s puzzle pieces start forming recognizable borders and the image starts to become so clear I don’t need to reference the box anymore.
It took me several days to unpack my bags. My mind was too busy unpacking every detail of that incredible trip that sparked so much within me.
I’ve been battling the age-old question of “Why?” I’ve been sitting in a room, curtains drawn, being extremely introverted. Thinking far too long and much too deep. New York parted the dark heavy shades, threw back the fabric, casting blinding light through, piercing my eyes. It was only with that ray of brightness that I could see all the dust that’s been floating around my world; the little particles of matter that really don’t make up much and are only cast off a larger material that doesn’t need them anymore.
There are so many parts of our lives we don’t need anymore. That are cast off as dust, but remembered and recalled too often. In the dark, they can’t be seen. Shine a light and you’ve got it all, staring you back in the face, floating silently but seen so clearly.
See, this whole pick up and move across the country thing? It ain’t easy. But do you know what is easy? Thinking about all the things I used to do, all the people I miss whole-heartedly, focusing on what my past had and what my present does not. It’s easy to cast a warm glow on the past because it already happened. You lived through it, you survived, you learned your lessons. The present and the future? You might as well put them in a corner of a dark, cold cement room because you have no idea if you’re gonna love it or hate it.
That’s what I kept doing with my here and now. I kept comparing them to my then and when.
New York was my therapist. My Dr. Phil, if you will. It grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me straight in the eye and said with a Southern drawl, “What are you doo-in’ girl??”
Despite its abrasive nature, New York gave me four days to just work through everything. Work through my doubt, my insecurities, my fears, my questions. It let me be my clumsy self. It allowed me to browse its stores, admire its windows, enjoy its people. It enveloped me in a rush of warmth each time I entered a coffee shop, teeth chattering with cold. It gave me guidance to know exactly where to find a front row spot (twice!) to cheer on my runner at the marathon. It let me stare off into the distance, open my mind and just let the universe come rushing in. It gave me the time to wander its streets and neighborhoods with someone who just gets me, who encourages and supports me in an unbelievable way from a country away. Someone who looked at me many times and said, “You’re so quiet. I can tell you’re inspired.”
She also said, “I can’t wait for you to live here.”
You can’t pay me a bigger compliment.
So for all of that and so much more, I want to say thank you to my beloved New York. Thank you for getting me up out of my chair in that isolated, dark room when you threw back the curtains, turning me around to remember there’s a way out. I know how the old saying goes and I’m not really sure who closed the door this time around, but I peeked my head out and saw a hallway full of many, many more to be opened.
What Is A Blend?
September 3rd, 2010 § 28 Comments
Have you ever ran in the rain before? When it’s a choice I make (and not an unexpected “surprise” like at my half marathon) I really love it. It cools down the Earth and emits this great scent – what I imagine clouds to smell like. Running in the rain makes me feel hardcore. I love the stares I get from passersby like I am nuts for getting soaked while doing something like that.
A very early morning email prompted my day to suddenly turn around. I hadn’t planned on running but when I looked out the window and saw a gray world, I geared up, leaving my sunglasses and Camelbak at home. I felt lighter and ran better than I have since my move.
As I ran, my mind felt lighter, too. Instead of thinking about how much my ankle hurt or how much longer I had until I reached my next mile marker, I thought about what I was actually feeling. You know, in my environment around me. It didn’t take long until the rain drops were covering me, rolling down my arms, face, back. Yet at the same time, I was still hot so my body was doing its best to cool itself off, so I was sweating as well.
There came a point where I couldn’t tell which was which. The sweat and the rain just rolled together completely covering me.
Stay with me – I have a point.
If you’ve hung around the blogosphere or just been a regular reader of mine, you have heard the term, “blend.” You may think it’s cute, or trite or kitschy or annoying. You may use it yourself. You may have no idea what I’m talking about.
A blend is a term that Carrie (my former roommate and very good friend) coined this year after hearing me talk endlessly about “my blogger friend…”
Blend = blogger friend.
As I round the corner to my next birthday and the anniversary of The Twenty-Fifth Year, I have a lot of thinking and thanking to do. My blends are at the forefront of this.
If I rewind to last September, the thought of stumbling onto so many blogs brings a coy smile to my face. So many of the writers were crucial to me coming back into myself – igniting the flame inside me that had almost dwindled down to a flicker. They encouraged me to continue writing and reminded me of my knack for words. How could I have known one simple comment could change everything?
Throughout the course of twelve months, there have been thousands of emails, late night and early morning gchat conversations, encouraging Tweets, “You-won’t-believe-this” phone calls, some painful runs, hilarious Skype dates, quirky text messages, exciting meet-ups, crazy nights out, three-hour heart-to-hearts, a million hugs and a few tearful goodbye.
As near and dear as I hold my “in real life” friends to my heart, my blends have a special place, too. They get it. They know what it’s like to be frustrated over traffic and overwhelmed by Google Reader. They share my sentiments when a post by a fellow blogger touches me or shocks me. They don’t find it strange or embarrassing when I take pictures of random things with the explanation, “It’s for the blog!” They don’t find it rude when I Tweet, email or check my phone relentlessly when we are out.
They keep me in line, keep my priorities in check, keep me smiling, teach me, reach me, inspire me and love me. Every day I find more and more. Every time I do, my life is enriched somehow.
The true beauty of it all – this community and the wonderful people who are a part of it – is that at some point the line that separates the Internet from the world outside your front door disappears. It doesn’t matter if you meet these people or they remain connected to your life only through wires and signals. They blend together with the friends you have in your life every day. And before you know it, you can’t tell the difference between the two – all you know is you’re covered in drops and you feel so good.
How has blogging changed your life in terms of the people you’ve met? I encourage you to share here, or write your own post about your blends! Lets make this weekend a three-day celebration of the people who have contributed to this crazy little thing we do!
Road, Review, Renew
August 17th, 2010 § 6 Comments
As obvious as it may be to say, I have made it to Texas! I feel that this statement warrants an exclamation point because, well, it’s kind of a big deal, no? I mean 1,457 miles is no short jaunt of a move. The latter part of the drive post-Nashville was a long one. This was something I didn’t figure out until I started plugging in addresses to Google Maps. As I looked at the clock with regret Tuesday morning at 11 a.m., I told Alex we had about 12 hours of road between us and where we’d lay our heads to rest that night.
We set out to cover the rest of Tennessee, all of Arkansas and finally cross into Texas. After four veggie subs, an entire state without coffee, some really scary bathrooms and a gorgeous sunset, we got to Ft. Worth and crashed around 1 a.m. The next morning, we made the most of a hotel breakfast and hit the road. We rolled into my parents’ place in the early afternoon and unpacked my car. My Mum kept insisting I took a ‘before’ picture of my wreckage but really, I think I’m doing you all a favor by sparing you of just how much crap I hauled down here with me.
What I do have photos of, however, are some of the highlights throughout the rest of the trip. Without further ado…
After a day of exploring my new digs and nearly melting approximately nine times, we took the afternoon Friday to go see Eat Pray Love. Now, I know there are critics out there – both those who make a living as one and those who simply have an opinion. Mine is pretty simple: I loved it. I read the book a few years ago right as it began to get popular and I loved it, too. Many of the details had faded in my memory and that was OK with me. I knew the premise. I’m sure many women went out and read the book in the weeks leading up to the movie’s release and were disappointed to see the plot line change.
People, c’mon. How many books stay true to their 120 minutes on film? It’s very rare and nearly impossible for a story to translate into a movie. I mean, Elizabeth Gilbert’s story would have taken hours to portray accurately. Perhaps it’s because I am in the midst of such a transition in my life, but I really got a lot out of it. I choked back tears of understanding, gratitude and cope throughout a great deal of the film. There was a lot of talk about pushing yourself outside your comfort zone, taking risks and chances and figuring things out for and about yourself. There was also a delicious pizza and some crave-worthy fries.
As I sat in the chilly theater, I pulled my sweater around me in a pseudo hug, wiping away single warm tears past my curls. I told myself it was OK to be moved but that it wasn’t necessary to have a complete breakdown in the dark. I felt inspired and compelled and as cliché and trite as it may seem, I felt a bit consoled. Sure, Elizabeth Gilbert’s story is rare and one in a million. I don’t have any immediate plans to put my life on hold for a year and travel the world (although if anyone would care to sponsor that, I wouldn’t object) but I do have plans to do something great with my life. As scary as it is, I’m looking at this move and decision to relocate half way across the country as a gift to myself. It’s a delicate gift. One that must be opened slowly. There’s no need to rush through it – though I desperately want nothing other than that. I’m looking at this time to focus solely on myself and discover what it is I really want. I’ve never had the opportunity to be quite as unattached from responsibility and social commitments so I’ve decided now is as good a time as any.
Those tears were not the last. I woke up Saturday morning and made a beeline to the freezer where two ice packs awaited their fate atop my eyes to bring down the swelling. They stung my cheeks again as I hugged Alex goodbye for the fifth time at the airport and drove away knowing my life was about to take a major turn and that I was without a friend beside me every day for the first time in years.
Thankfully, I have a wonderful support system right under my roof, at the touch of a button on my phone and a click away on the Internet. There are so many people who have helped me get to where I am today; standing at the brink of this road where so many opportunities and adventures await. There is however, only one person who could have helped me make the actual trip and transition in such a smooth and calm way.
I have talked about how wonderful of a friend this woman is to me, but spending eight days non-stop with her has truly solidified it in my heart. It’s amazing what I have learned and gained from this blogging community – but I count my blends (blogger friend = blend) as the biggest blessing of all. At the end of the day, it can be hard to keep up with everything and everyone but I believe no matter how often you press publish, how many tweets you send, how many comments you receive, once you’re in this community, you’re in and a part of something so life-changing and wonderful you can never imagine your life without it.
Did you see Eat Pray Love? What did you think of it?
Have you been part of something bigger that changed your life? How?
Road Signs
August 10th, 2010 § 11 Comments
Hello from Nashville!
We’ve been going solid for three days now – at this time tomorrow we will be in Austin! Yep, that’s right, I brought along a friend.
My – very near and dear to my heart – blend, Alex!
This lovely lady arrived in the States last Saturday to attend a very special wedding and make the multi-state trek with me. What’s been even more fun than having her around is watching people’s reactions when I’ve told them the story of how we actually never met until a few days ago. They’re all, “Huh?” and I’m all “Yup! Welcome to 2010. Glad to have you join us.” If nothing else, this community has brought into my life some fabulous people whom, I swear, don’t pack axes, guns or torture devices of any kind in their suitcases when they travel to meet you.
Saturday we got all dolled up and headed to the historic Warner Theater in Erie, Pennsylvania, to watch my cousin get married in a throwback ’40s wedding.
To say this wedding was on point would not be giving it enough credit. Every little detail of the ceremony and reception was beautiful and obviously very well thought-out. Yours truly had the honor of being the first face everyone saw as they collected their “tickets” which were place cards to the tables inside. The bridal party was decked out in wingtip shoes, pearls and gorgeous hairstyles that would rival something in Mad Men. The centerpieces boasted beautiful Stargazer Lilies and ostrich feathers. People, It. Was. To. Die. 
After all that beauty, we were faced with this monstrosity.
Luckily, everything fit. Including what my Dad will tell you is the best part of Pennsylvania (that you can’t get in Texas).
For the next 10 hours, we drank copious amounts of coffee.
And rocked it out.
Yesterday, another dear sweet friend acted as our tour guide around Music City.
Maggie is one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of friends. We met the day she moved into the dorms at college and have been great pals ever since. Having gone into the same field, she is someone who truly gets it when it comes to having a passion for something that seems almost impossible to make a living from.We have racked up hours of minutes offering support from states away over the years and yet we just pick up right where we left off with each visit.
Apparently we missed the memo that yesterday was Melt Yo Face Off Nashville 2010. Regardless, we saw the sights and heard the sounds that make up this great city. It’s hard to believe so much of it was destroyed by flooding just a few months ago.
To me, Nashville boasts something in the way of a magical feeling. Having grown up in a small town dreaming big city dreams, I can identify with the people who come here in hopes of fame and success. As I sat on a bar stool in one of the honky tonks, feet dangling high above the worn wooden floors, I couldn’t help but take it all in. Within those notes that sang country classics, Sugarland covers and original tunes was something more. I’d like to be cliché and say it was hope and determination and dreams. I’d like to make this all wrap up in some romantic way and tell you that I felt like everything became completely clear. Instead I’ll tell you that it gave me a good feeling – some reassurance, yes, but not the be-all-end-all-moment of clarity. Perhaps it was more like a sign on a long stretch of highway, letting its traveler know how much area there was left to cover and offering some relief. The number may seem high and daunting until I reach my destination, but at least I know I am still on the right road.
Thanks, Nashville.
Snow Day(s)
February 8th, 2010 § 11 Comments
Wow. Wow, wow! I am completely humbled by the outpouring of support, kindness and LOVE my last post generated. For every comment I thank you. For every person that took something from my story I am so grateful. For every new set of eyes to take the time to read my words I am touched. Remember how I said there were many lessons to be learned from this experience? Well, I think the best so far is that this community holds so much more goodness than I ever could have imagined. Despite another event on Friday that completely sealed the deal with the ex, I am feeling strong and empowered. And I know so much of that is because of all of you. Plus – I have made so many new blends! (In case you haven’t heard, a blogger friend = “a blend.” It’s the new thing.) If I had it my way, I would send you all a magazine and a cute pastry.
In case you’re wondering, this is how I spent my Sunday afternoon. Do you remember those Little Debbie’s from your childhood? I haven’t broken into one of those glorious $1.19 preservative-laden boxes since I was rockin’ braces. Somehow, it wasn’t as sweet as I remembered. However, that will not keep me from eating the rest of them. I work hard for my money, ya know? Can’t be wasteful!
I spent the last three days mainly around the homestead as we got pummeled with a massive snowstorm this weekend. And by massive I mean everyone was in unison shouting, “Get down to the grocery store NE-OW!!! Toilet paper, milk, bread, pastries!!” Everyone, that is, except for us who thought things were being blown way out of proportion. We had a party planned several weeks in advance – a Cabin Fever party no less – and we were sure that it was going to happen regardless of Mother Nature. I made the mistake of saying out loud Friday night, “I hope we get snowed in. Then we won’t have to work tomorrow!” It seems every time I mutter a “wish” of mine out loud, it comes true and I have to live with the consequences. (Lesson I should have learned when I said, “I need to go to the dentist” and was immediately inflicted with pain that took me out of work for a week and into the hospital with an abscessed tooth turned infection.) We woke up to more snow than my snow belt raised self can ever remember.
Welcome to my ‘hood circa Snowmageddon 2010.
He had a little too much to drink the night before methinks.
In true form, we continued on with the party. Thankfully I live a skip away from a grocery store that was actually open when the rest of the city was shut down. We stocked up and the four of us proceeded with celebration. Just what do you do at a cabin fever party when you really do have cabin fever you ask? Well you spend time dressing indoor trees – I mean, they need to keep warm, too.
You also waste spend a half an hour throwing cards in the air to get the perfect money shot. I’m not sure if y’all knew this, but I am a baller around these parts.
So hard.
I was supposed to see RENT yesterday with a friend of mine, but this darn snow once again held up plans as she was plowed in. Needless to say, this whole weather thing really put a damper on some pretty fun plans. Last night, we decided it was only right to break open a bottle of bubbly and toast away the week and weekend that were.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want just one more day off. Really I should know better – that greed is a product of the just one more syndrome. Just one more time to hit snooze. Just one more drink before I go. Just one more Little Debbie.
The Just one more syndrome is known to produce no good side effects and is very hazardous to your health. For that reason alone, I shall return to the working world. Because if I had it my way – and thank goodness I don’t – I would probably turn into a Little Debbie. Maybe that’s why I haven’t had these for a decade?
The Power of Words
February 4th, 2010 § 50 Comments
A short time ago, my life took a huge, sharp turn off the path I thought I had all but planned out pretty well for myself. Scary as it may sound, it was a welcome detour not for the scenery but rather for the company I had with me. I met someone who I thought was very wonderful and it was pretty clear he thought the same of me. Our journey together was no casual stroll in the park – it was more like an intense all-out run. One that is challenging in the moment – but rewarding in so many ways. Since the path was new, it opened up my eyes to many things. Among them, the possibility of life changing so much, the possibility of achieving the my dreams in a new exciting way and the probability of having someone to share it with.
Three days ago, I quickly found myself looking over my shoulder realizing I was running alone. When I turned back around I ran full force on to a sheet of ice and slid into a brick wall.
When I came to, I was back in the place I knew so well – the path I was walking down before my run.
When I came to, I was crying for the first time in as long as I could remember. I was holding my head in my hands trying to make sense of it all. Trying to explain it to myself, my friends, my family, my heart. I wanted a do-over. I wanted a hug. A drink. An explanation.
After I got over the initial shock of how I found myself single again – the irrational way in which someone else’s decision was given to me without a say – I began to dissect the conversation. I tried to connect the points made and make some sort of sense for myself why and how it had happened.
One reason he felt we were “on different levels” really bothered me.
“And the whole blogging thing. I don’t get it.”
Let me make a few things clear about that (as I am sure some of you are outraged that was a reason to end a relationship.) While I never rearranged our time together to blog, I am constantly connected to all things Internet through my phone (Twitter, Facebook, Emails, Blog). For as many times as I put it on the opposite side of the room to avoid the blinking red light of my Blackberry and the ping! that meant a new message, I was also sneaking in glances at times when I should have just let it be. I was constantly having to hear remarks about how “I wasn’t myself without my Mac,” which is not true at all. There’d be many nights we’d spend together that I didn’t even crack it open. And for those of you who aren’t regular readers, just look at the sporadic schedule of my posting recently. Granted, I have never posted every day, but my blog has not received the love I vowed to give it January 1st.
When I told those close to me – friends, blends and family alike – this was a reason for the breakup, they were shocked. Writing is the craft I am skilled and educated in. It is my passion and my hobby and something in which I hold a talent in. Right now, this blog is the only place I have to hone and practice that craft and skill. How could someone who seemed to get me not get me at all?
The words of encouragement from these people – and from some I didn’t even expect – floored me. It’s no surprise as I told you all a few posts ago that when I’m down, I’ve got those friends who are below me if only for a second to gain enough room to pick me up and bring me back to where I need to be. The calls, emails, texts, g-chat conversations, Skype dates and hugs have meant so much.
In less than 100 hours, I am doing better than I thought I would. I am coping at such a different level than I would have had this letdown happened a year ago.
I’m looking at this occurrence as a reminder to myself. A reminder that what I’ve stumbled upon – this blogging network of 20-something life, healthy living and food bloggers – is one of the most wonderful occurrences in my life. The network is not only one of shared interests, but one of support and love like I never could have imagined. This occurrence is a reminder that what is important to me is not to fill up my Google Reader with blogs and Tweet and comment to my heart’s desire, but to give back the support, encouragement, laughter and friendship that so many of you have given to me. And to write. My goodness, isn’t it about the writing?
Blogging has given me confidence. It’s taught me to be open and candid and as honest with myself as I am with others. It’s pushed my thought process outside its comfort zone and challenged my ideas and knowledge. It’s something that he just didn’t get. Because he couldn’t. And here’s what: that’s OK. It’s acceptable. It’s life. Thanks to the advice of a wonderful friend, I now know – and I want all of you to know – that if someone can’t value and appreciate you for who you are this second they don’t deserve you for one second.
As with any relationship, there are many lessons – ones that I have learned in a few short days and many that are waiting for me down that familiar path. The point of writing this post is not to point fingers and be outraged and expose someone’s actions. After all, the only people who truly know a relationship are the ones who are in it. The point is to share a story in which I am gaining so much more than I thought I would lose if I found myself here.
If you ever find yourself discouraged because someone doesn’t “get it” – and by “it” I mean your passion – I hope you’ll remember this story. I hope you’ll know that sometimes life – and what you’re made of – can shock the hell out of you. I hope you’ll believe that there’s a force greater than you and I guiding you through the straightaways and detours of your path. And I hope you’ll smile. I know I am.
