Anxiety and Depression

A day in my head when my depression and anxiety are at their strongest. Please note that this is only a small portion of what I experience daily, and it is only my experience and what I describe may not be the experience of others with these disorders. This is only being written to give you an idea of what it can be like from my perspective.  Trigger Warning!!!! I do describe what I go through in a panic attack, as well as situations that bring an attack on for me. This may trigger those that suffer with anxiety, so read with caution please!

The alarm goes off at 8am even if it is a day off. The alarm is set to go off everyday at 8am to help me get out of bed, because I really want to just sleep. I want to curl up under the covers, and be tiny, and small, and insignificant. As soon as that alarm goes off though I have to force myself to move. I have to fight the fears that creep into my head about interacting with people, the fears that something will happen that will be to overwhelming to handle, or the fears that I won't be able to get through the day without a breakdown of some kind. I force my feet to hit the floor though, I force myself to move. Some days the depression and anxiety win and I'll sleep in till noon, or I won't get out of bed at all. Other days I know I have to fight them, because I can't let them win everyday.

Getting dressed I'll change three or four times before deciding on an outfit. "Is this work appropriate?", "Am I too casual, or too dressed up?", "Did I gain weight, or is this shirt supposed to be this tight?", "Can I wear red even though I'm not in a power position at work or will that upset someone?", "If the weather is going to be so hot this afternoon is it better to dress for that, or dress for the colder weather it is now since I'll be inside when it's hottest?" These are not just questions, I'm not just worrying. It's fear. If I later go to work and someone comments on how dressed up I am I'll panic, and that could be the beginning of a panic attack for me. "Does that mean she just liked what I was wearing today, or that I'm to dressed up for this job? If she thinks I'm to dressed up does she think that I'm trying to move up into another position there? Is she worried I'm trying to take her job? I'm on her list of bad employees now because she thinks I'm trying to take her job. She's going to fire me the first chance I screw up and then how am I going to pay my bills. If I can't pay my rent I'll have to sell my stuff. If I sell everything and can't get a new job I'm going to be homeless on the street." And this is how a panic attack begins all over what I choose to wear that day.

Breakfast is another battle with myself. "Don't eat that, it's bad for you and people already think you're fat.", "You'll have bad breath, and offend people, all day if you eat that breakfast burrito with onions in it.", "You need to cut down on your coffee intake, it'll stain your teeth and make you jittery." I'll finally decide on something. Normally coffee and something I can carry and eat in the car with me because I've spent too much time deciding what to eat to have time to actually eat it before I leave.

Driving to work, more panicking because of other drivers on the road. "You've already been in 6 car accidents, what will people think if you end up in another one?", "Did that guy behind me leave enough room to stop without hitting me?", "Am I going to be late for work because of this traffic?"

At work my day becomes a combination of anxiety and depression depending on the day and the situations. Often feelings of inadequacy rule the emotions though. "They don't think I'm good enough to do this job.", "They're probably regretting having hired me in the first place.", "I'm never going to be able to do this project they way that they are going to want it done. I'm just not good enough to be doing this." Throughout the day these feelings build, until it is time to go home. I've gotten really rather good at hiding my emotions at work so I don't have a breakdown there. This is unfortunately good and bad. Good because I don't breakdown there for all to see, bad because I'm bottling up those feelings and fears to explode at a later time.

The drive home from work is often the same as the drive to work was, with the same fears. Once home I'll often find bills that need to be paid with money I don't have. Or housework that needs to be done that I just don't have the energy for. Often there is something else at home that makes me breakdown in some way. Either collapsing on the couch or bed and crying before falling asleep (which I shouldn't do because the depression also gives me insomnia too, but do anyways.), or having a panic attack depending on which mental disorder is ruling my brain that day.

If it's a panic attack normally my body tightens, think about having a Charlie horse in your entire body, it's kind of like that. Once my body starts to tighten my panic gets worse, only fueling the attack into another stage, difficulty breathing. Breathing becomes difficult, like when you were a kid and you were crying so hard you couldn't breathe. My body forgets the simple acts of inhaling and exhaling, for me it's normally forgetting to exhale. If I was standing, I most likely can no longer and will fall to the ground. My muscles will have given out meaning my legs can no longer hold me, and my fingers and toes tighten and curl up into claw like appendages. It often feels like someone has wrapped themselves around me and I'm smothering, unable to fight the person off. I'll feel nauseated, and will try to vomit in an effort to ease the pain, but I'm unable to control my stomach muscles. My head will pound, and I'll hear the blood rushing through my ears, making it difficult for me to hear anyone who may be around trying to help me. Eventually after what feels like an eternity, and a lot of concentration on inhaling and exhaling, the attack will subside. I say subside because I'm still just balancing on the edge of another attack. It will be hours before I don't have to concentrate on breathing, or containing the bile to my stomach. Often I'll need to remain seated on the floor, or wherever the attack took place, because my muscles are shaky and unable to move. Often my entire body is shaking, and will be for hours.

Normally it is after these attacks I physically can feel my depression taking over. Often I'll go straight to bed after and not force myself out of bed the next day. I'll sleep, lay on the couch, not eat, and have no ambition to even get dressed. There have been times I have thought of taking my own life, and times I have acted on those thoughts. (Never Stop Feeling) Socializing isn't even a thought, and if it is it quickly is pushed away. Thoughts of seeing other people cause worry about what they think and only brings on the beginnings of another panic attack. I isolate, and for me it is both comforting, and horrifying.

For me, I have found that therapy is the best way for me to control those disorders. Activity such as running daily help me control them. Keeping my environment clean, organized, and controlled helps me. Medications have also been an option, and will always be an option. Anxiety and depression for me are real. I have chemical imbalances in my brain that make thoughts you may think are irrational and silly, very rational and true for me. There are times I am able to go back and look at a situation and see that it isn't me thinking one way, it's my anxiety and depression. Then there are the times that it is so real for me, I can't discern between rational thought, and irrational. Those are the times I rely on others to help me see, and the times I rely on medications to help balance me again.

It's difficult to explain how and why my brain takes what many deal with daily, and makes it into something so much more than what it is. I know this is why it is difficult for many people to understand what exactly it is I am going through, and how to help. The biggest thing I can say is if you are reading this, and trying to understand, you are helping. If you find me, or someone else, in the midst of a panic attack and say in the heat of the moment, "I'm here," you're helping. If you haven't seen or heard from me for a few days and you call me to see if I'm okay, you're helping. We all go through times of sadness, and anxiety. Some of us just can't "pull ourselves up by our bootstraps" and "suck it up" like someone else can. Would you tell someone who has cancer, "suck it up, we all have times we don't feel well but have to push through it."? People have told me that before when I was depressed, and trust me, it makes things worse.

This blog post was not written to generalize anxiety and depression, only to describe a bit of how I personally struggle with them. This post was also not written to gain sympathy for myself either (seriously if you give me sympathy, I'll probably punch you!). This post was written because I felt the need to share with those that read it something they may not understand if they have never experienced it themselves. I know that even within my own family they didn't understand what a panic attack was like for me until they witnessed me having one. And even then it was still difficult for them to understand. Because mental disorders happen "in your head" it can be hard to understand. If someone breaks their arm, we can see a cast and an x-ray even if we can't see the broken bone from outside the skin. There are no x-rays or casts for mental disorders, so we often forget that they are just as real as broken bones. I know that there will always be a stigma with mental illness, there will always be people that don't understand because they can't see it. For me though, I know it's real, and I will continue to share my story in hopes that it may change the mind of someone who has difficulty believing it. That's why I wrote this blog post.

Kevin Breel

I could not have said this any better than 19 year old Kevin Breel did. This is why I share my story, this is the first step, this is how we break a stigma. <3

Raising Your Expectations of Men

There are about a million and one things I should be doing rather than writing this, but here I sit at my computer, typing this blog out rather than the work I should be doing. Something is eating at me though. I recently posted this video on my personal Facebook page:

The post I made was simple enough, this video with my only comment being an emoji heart. Several hours later I saw a friend had reposted the video with this as her comment, "I think Meghan Trainor, and anyone who loves this song, need to be more realistic about men." Now I know this person has been burned in her past relationships, but SERIOUSLY?!?!?

Please don't get me wrong, my upset isn't over the fact that she doesn't agree with my taste in music, my upset isn't even over the fact that she feels the way she does. My upset is over the fact that as a woman I can't believe that we lower our standards for men, rather than expecting them to live up to them!

Yes, when I was little I would dream of a man on a white horse coming in and fighting dragons to save me. He would be brave, strong, and do anything he could to keep me safe because he couldn't imagine a world without me. As I grew up though, I realized dragon's didn't really exist, and therefore no one needed to protect me from them. But I also discovered that I didn't need someone to save me. This didn't change the fact though that I wanted someone in my life with the qualities that man on the white horse possessed though. To this day I still hope to find a man who is chivalrous, who doesn't HAVE to save me but wants to help save me, who understand that some battles I will need to fight alone and will stand by me and support me as I do, and who can't picture his life without me. Is this a fairytale? Maybe to some. But why?

I've been asked by many people why I don't date all that much, why I'm so picky, and why I think anyone will ever live up to my standards. To be honest, I wonder all this myself sometimes too. But I also realize that here I am, a woman of 32 years old who has watched relationships come together and fall apart more times than she can count because someone thought they could settle for a partner who didn't meet an expectation. Or they could change someone to meet an expectation. So for me, I'm picky because I refuse to do that. I think at this point in time I'm a strong, independent, self sufficient individual, so I don't need a man to help me with those things. I don't lower my standards, because if I do what does that say about me? What does that say to the man I'm with that he doesn't want to live up his potential because he doesn't have to? What does that say about the female population as a whole?

Ladies if we don't expect men to step up to be something more, why are they going to? Yes, I expect and hope that the man I'm with one day will bring me flowers for no reason. Help around the house. Won't be offended if I pay for dinner once and a while because our relationship is a partnership. I want to be a team with someone, not be two people who only do what one of them says all the time. I want to spoil him, and have him spoil me. I want to talk about a problem with him and have his response be "Is there something I can do to help?" and not "that sucks. So I'm hanging out with the guys next week." And I don't think wanting these things makes me unrealistic, or crazy. I also don't think that because I expect these things I'll be lonely for the rest of my life as a result. One day, even if I'm 90, I'll meet someone who will be everything I'm looking for.

Women, it's time to change the way we not only think about men, but the way we think about ourselves. Believe in yourself enough that you deserve someone that is going to live up to your standards, rather than lowering them because it's the best you're going to get. Love yourself first, and someone will love you enough to be who you know they can be.

It's Wedding Season

It's wedding season. Every year, as the Spring hits, I begin hearing about weddings, and attending weddings, and getting invites, and just in general till about November hearing about love.  To be honest this video perfectly describes how I feel a lot of the time, lol.

I have mixed feelings when it comes to weddings and marriage. Yes I'm the guest that is crying during the ceremony. But not really for why you would think. I am honestly happy for the couple. Whether it is family, or friends I normally couldn't be more happy that they found the person who they love. But I normally am crying because I'm beginning to feel like I will never have that for myself. I'm watching something that will never happen for me. And that is both difficult, and sobering to swallow at such a happy event.

Now before anyone begins with the, "Liza there is someone out there for you, give it time!" and the "Stop being so down on yourself." hear me out.

I'm a 32 year old, independent, headstrong, guarded woman.  I don't say these things as a negative about myself, but they are important things to know about me.  In my experience most men want to be with a woman they can protect, that need them, and that they can save in some way.  There is a very small percentage of men I've found that can handle someone who doesn't need them for those things. Men that truly want a companion, and a TRUE partner seem to be rare in my opinion.  The thing is, this is the type of man I want...the type of man that I need to find. I will never want or need someone to "save me", but I do want and need someone to HELP ME save myself.

Yesterday I attended a wedding of two friends that truly have this type of relationship.  The pastor of the ceremony even spoke of how the turning point of their relationship for them was when they made the conscious decision to start making decisions together rather than separately. To me, that was the moment the waterworks began, simply because I know it's rare for someone to find a love like that.

I'm not saying this won't ever happen for me, but what I am saying is that I am not a person that is going to settle for any relationship that is anything less than that.  That's the hard thing. Knowing that I will not be okay with any relationship that is less than that, means that it may be a very long time before that happens, or it may never happen.  That's why weddings create these mixed emotions for me, because I know how rare true love is, and when someone you know really finds it, it's a reminder for yourself that no matter how long you search, you may never find it. Even when you are one of the last single people in your circle of friends.  True love, really is a rare thing, should be cherished, and searched for, and held onto when found.

So wedding season is upon me again, and I'm being reminded of all these things again, and I'm having so many emotions about it this year in particular. But hey, maybe next year I'm be talking about my own wedding. You never know when true love will find you, so even though I'm a bit sad at weddings of those that have truly found that one true love we all dream of, I can't stay upset, because if I do, I may miss my one chance to meet my own one love. <3

Stigma

I don't watch award shows. With the exception of the Tony awards I rarely even know when they are on. So this morning when I work up and saw everything about The Academy Awards I was surprised to see quite a bit of talk about suicide.

I've made it no secret on this blog that I am a suicide attempt survivor, I've studied Psychology, I've worked in mental health, and I'm a mental health advocate in many ways.  I had figured at first all the talk was as a result of Robin Williams death, but I was stunned to find out that much of the discussion was as a result of the Best Documentary winner "Crisis Hotline:Veterans Press 1" and the acceptance speech of Best Adapted Screenplay winner Graham Moore, for the film The Imitation Game. Both acceptance speeches talked about suicide and how it's time to break the silence. Graham Moore bravely even spoke about his own suicide attempt, "I tried to commit suicide at 16 and now I'm standing here," he said. "I would like for this moment to be for that kid out there who feels like she doesn’t fit in anywhere. You do. Stay weird. Stay different, and then when it's your turn and you are standing on this stage please pass the same message along."  To my amazement, everything I have seen and read about these speeches and winners has been positive.  I say to my amazement because I know firsthand that there is still a very big stigma associated with mental health, and especially suicide.

I don't keep it a secret to friends and family I struggle with my own mental health, and have attempted suicide in the past.  I also don't really bring it up in day to day conversation either.  So even though I know people know, and I know that they know, we don't mention it.  I was having a discussion with a friend I'd only known a short time a few months back, he didn't know about my attempts so he was wondering why I was so passionate about my job and why I did it.  I was working for a non-profit organization that went to high schools and taught business skills to help students build a business to combat the root cause of suicide in their own school community. It really was unique program because it wasn't just a let's talk about our feelings type of program, but a lets go out and address it type of program that I was able to see was having a bigger positive affect on students. In any case this friend asked me about this job.  Our discussion went something like this.

Him, "I just don't understand why anyone would want to kill themselves."
Me, "You do know I've attempted suicide...a few times actually." 
Long awkward silence.
Him, "How?"
Me, "How did I try to die? Like what did I do?"
Him, "Yeah."

It was at that point I realized why the questions had really began. I shared with him anyways the different methods I'd used to try and kill myself, and a little bit about why I'd tried. But I knew there was something else, someone in his past had either attempted, or died by suicide.

Normally when you share that you're an attempt survivor there are two responses from people. The sympathy, "I'm so sorry you felt that way/" and the why, "but why did you feel that way?"  There's really nothing to say to the sympathetic response, and it can often be difficult to respond to the why because even you yourself may not fully understand why you did. That's why I always told the kids I worked with when they shared their attempt stories with me "thank you". Thank you for trusting me with this highly personal experience, thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share this with me, thank you for being brave and sharing, and thank you for still being here right now because I'm so grateful to have met you. When the first response from someone is about the how it happened, normally there is a personal connection, normally there's still a stigma about suicide with them.

This friend later shared with me that he did in fact have a close connection to another suicide attempt survivor, and that after having had her in his life he swore he would never again be involved with someone who struggled with suicidal ideations at any time in their life. It broke my heart to hear that, because what he failed to realize in making that statement was that not only was he not willing to be involved with me and rejecting me, but he was someone who believed that this was a weakness in a person, that they could help having those feelings in some way.  This friend and I have since parted ways, partially as a result of this.

It was great that at the Oscars last night suicide and mental health were talked about, but there is still a long ways to go before the stigma is erased. People who struggle with mental health are not weak, they are no different than someone who breaks their arm. They are sick and hurting.

I've be an advocate for mental health and suicide awareness for some time now, and I've been blessed that this is the first first-hand experience I've had with a negative stigma. It was a wake up call to me, and I now understand why so many never share their own hurting. For this one person, there have been so many others that have embraced me and my story, so I'm not going to stop sharing as a result of this.  I do want to say though that I hope one day I can share even more openly than I do now, and no one would look down on me as a result. That's what I'm hoping for, that's what I'm trying to do for future generations, and that's why I continue to talk about it, whether or not I lose friends as a result or not.

You're Beautiful

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? Well that’s what we’re taught at least.  We’re all beautiful in our own ways. If we really believed this though, we wouldn’t feel the need to have surgeries to fix things about ourselves we don’t like.  We wouldn’t buy beauty magazines showing us the most recent trends in fashion, or telling us how to lose those last five pounds. And we really wouldn’t feel the need to put others appearances down, to make us feel better in some small way.

When I was in middle school I have two distinct memories of being teased about my appearance.  The first involved some boys putting small pieces of paper in my hair with words like “Fatty”, “Wide Load”, and “Big Girl” written on them.  Even in middle school I was larger than most kids, already wearing adult women’s plus sizes.  Until I began this journey several years ago this is the age when I last remember my weight and being on a scale.  I was at a friend’s sleepover birthday party, and being girls of even 11 or so we cared about things like how much we weighed. So we got on the scale and talked about how much we were overweight and wished we were like the other girls.  I didn’t want to get on the scale, so I quickly jumped on and off.  The scale read 260, but one of the girls thought it read 160 to which I was told that wasn’t that bad. I knew how much I really weighed though.  So the names the boys called me on those papers sent me home in tears that day.

The other memory I have of being teased in middle school was going to the girls bathroom in 6^th grade and having an 8^th grader block the door as I tried to leave saying, “You’re a boy, why are you in here?” I had a short bowl haircut at the time, not the best choice for me at that age, but with hair as thick as mine was, and as curly as it was at the time it was the best my mom could think to have done with it.  This girl finally let me leave, but I didn’t get my hair cut again from that day till I graduated high school.  And sadly that isn’t an exaggeration.

When I left grade school and began college, I gained a bit more self-confidence about my image, and began to really believe how beautiful I was.  I still had a tough time when it came to buying clothes, and seeing me as feminine, but I was learning, and coming into my own.  So for about ten years I began to no longer care what others thought, I really was beautiful in my own way.  My weight didn’t matter, my hair didn’t matter, and the fact that I never wore makeup didn’t matter.  I was finally comfortable with who I was.  When I began this journey I was slipping in my feelings about myself, which is why I began to take care of myself better than I had been, and have been for the past 4 years or so.

2015 has gotten off to a rough start for me though, and it’s becoming hard to again say, “Screw what others think, I’m my own beautiful person.”  My hair has been the topic of conversation again since I’ve kept it short for many years now.  I’ve moved past the bowl haircut, but it is a shorter pixie style.  Over the holiday’s I had my hair cut again, family and friends expressed that they thought I should let it grow out. I prefer it short though, and since it’s my head I decided to cut it.

Recently a male friend told me though he didn’t like my hair, “it makes you look like a dyke and it confuses men.” This pissed me off, and not just because of the derogatory name he used.  Honestly, get over it. A haircut doesn’t define your sexuality, if you personally prefer women with long hair; spend time with women with long hair. I’m keeping mine how it is.  But then at a restaurant my mother and I stopped at as we moved me back to Kentucky (story for another day), a woman in the restroom washing her hands next to me looked at me for a bit before deciding to wash her hands and mumbling under her breath “I guess THAT is a girl.”  Really, the boobs didn’t give it away for you lady?

I feel like recently because I choose not to conform to more traditional ideas of beauty I’m not only being told I’m not beautiful, but also my sexuality is coming into question too.  And by the way, it is perfectly okay that at 32 I’m not married, and that doesn’t make me gay!!

Ideas of beauty change over time, people change over time, trends change, and we don’t have to follow them.  We don’t have to change over time if we don’t want to.  Most of us do, but for those of us who choose not to it can be hard when we are so far out of the ideas.  Apparently that’s where I fall right now.  I’m not going to change my hair, style, physical appearance, or anything else about myself just because a few people don’t like who I am.  Just remember, no matter how tough someone looks, their armor can only take so many hits before it breaks and your words and actions take a greater toll on that person.

Just to give you an idea of how physical beauty trends have changed over time, I saw this video and really liked it.  Trends change drastically, so be who you are because YOU like that person, not because others do or don’t. <3

The God Question

I grew up going to church.  Although my mother became a minister a few years back, she has been a church musician, and choir director since she was a teen.  Both my parents worked for the national offices of our denomination.  And my mother is now the minister of a small church, while my father is a church business administrator at another church not far away.

To say religion and faith are a big part of my life is an understatement.  The funny thing is that for many years now I have called myself spiritual, but not religious.  I believe in a God, but I haven't found a religion that depicts God in the way I feel.  You see personally, I'm beginning to wonder if the closer you get to religion, the further you get from God.

Around 1999 I began to question my faith.  I was 16, and like many teenagers I was trying to find out who I was, and where I belonged in this world.  My parents were loving and accepting of my faith exploration. A bit more than they had been about my fashion exploration several years earlier when I dyed my hair with Kool-Aid and wore all black. (Story for another day, lol.)  But the fact was that my parents allowed me to ask questions, buy books about faiths they knew little about, and even when they didn't like the one I chose, they accepted my weekly change of faith.  That same year though my entire life was turned upside down when just before Christmas, my mother became very sick.

Thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura (TTP) is a rare blood clotting disorder causing small clots to form in blood vessels throughout the body.  My mother was diagnosed with TTP the day before Winter Break my Junior year of high school, on December 18, 1999.  At the time the fatality rate for TTP was around 80%, and because of how rare it was few doctors knew how to treat it, or diagnosis it.  By pure dumb luck though, my mother happened to go to a local hospital that was one of only a few in the US at the time that was familiar with the disorder and equipped to treat it.  Within hours of getting to the hospital, she was being treated using plasma exchange.  This didn't guarantee recovery, but it definitely was a good thing.

My mother went through treatments of plasma exchange daily, as well as going on chemotherapy, steroids, and basically any treatment they thought might get her body to stop clotting, and return to normal. Daily blood test results gave the entire family anxiety. Were her numbers any better, showing that the disorder wasn't winning? Or were the numbers dropping, making everyone nervous she may never leave the hospital?  Christmas was spent opening gifts at my sister's house, with my mom on the phone from her hospital room because her blood numbers weren't good enough to get a day away from the sterile four walls of the hospital.  New Years Eve, ringing in the new millennium, was spent in much the same way.  For over a month my mom fought for her life, and I spent every day trying to make sense of what was happening.

The night my father took my mom to the hospital, I saw a woman I had never seen before.  My mom was pale...REALLY pale.  She was in and out of consciousness, vomiting, and when she spoke she didn't make much sense.  Her body was shutting down, and she was literally dying in front of me.  Our parents are superheros, they're always there for us, and even when they get sick, they still take care of you. As a kid, your parents are invincible, and nothing can stop them.  You never expect to see your parent so vulnerable, and when you do it's horrifying as a child.  That night I prayed.  I didn't care if it was a Christian God, or a Jewish God, or a Muslim God, or a "Higher Power".  The name and label didn't matter.  At that moment I needed the comfort of knowing that I wasn't alone, it was alright to be scared, and at a time when I felt entirely helpless, it gave me a purpose.

The days I spent at the hospital after school were often spent in the hospital chapel.  A small room with stained glass doors, six pews, and a cross hanging on the wall at the front of the room.  Although a message outside the room stated the chapel was non-denominational, a hospital with a Christian denomination in it's name was going to be a little bias.  I spent many days sitting in that chapel, not necessarily praying, but just trying to find God in everything that was happening.

Although many of the days I spent visiting my mother meld together in my memory, two days stand out, my birthday and the day after.  I had been picked up after school by my father and we had gone straight to the hospital.  They had been speaking with my mother about removing her spleen in a last ditch, hail Marry attempt to get her blood numbers to even out and hopefully send her into remission.  A surgery that can be seen as routine, had high risks for my mother in her condition.  Because of the blood clotting issues the disorder caused, and the high levels of blood thinners she'd been on for a month, it was very possible she could bleed out and die in surgery.  This also wasn't a sure thing, and if it didn't work she would most likely be in the hospital for the rest of her life, dependent on plasma exchange to keep her from clotting and dying.

They had wanted to do the surgery on January 20th, but my mother refused because that was my birthday.  She had lost her father at 17 to cancer, and hated that I was going through a similar pain at the same age.  So reluctantly the doctors agreed to move the surgery to the 21st as long as her blood numbers seemed to be in a safe range.  My birthday was bittersweet, with surgery happening the next day.  When my sister got off work and arrived at the hospital that night I opened gifts, even one my sister had shopped to find from my mother.  Comedy and Tragedy mask earrings, I still have to this day.  That night as we readied to leave, I hugged my mom, kissed her and told her I would see her the next day.  I didn't sleep well, and when my alarm went off for school, rather than getting ready to go take English tests, learn about the invasion of Pearl Harbor, or the square root of 93, I got ready to say goodbye to my mother.  Because it very well could have been the last time I saw her.

That morning before they took her into surgery my mom hugged me, still unsure if she wanted to go through with the surgery.  All night I had been praying, and my prayer had been selfish, but at 17 years old there was a lot I still needed my mom for.  So I prayed that my mom would be all right, that she would survive the surgery, and things would go back to normal.  That morning was emotional, and as I hugged my mom she asked me if I thought she should go through with it.  I knew I couldn't answer that, so I answered in the only way I could through my tears.  "I just want my mom back."  The same prayer I'd been saying all night.

She did go through with surgery, her blood numbers returned to normal and remained that way, and 42 days after she had entered the hospital as a practically lifeless individual, she came home.  Ten years later, she got to stop going back for blood tests, and they considered her in remission.

During this time a lot happened, I had to grow up rather quickly. I realized my parents are not the superheroes we all think they are.  And my faith faltered.  You would think the fact that my mother survived such a grim outlook, would mean that my faith would be stronger than ever.  The fact was that I had a difficult time understanding why God would have my family go through such a difficult time.  Since then I've found myself asking that question a lot.  When a good friend who was only in his twenties died from cancer.  When my grandmother passed away unexpectedly and quickly.  When a friend lost her child.

There have been so many times I've found myself asking "What kind of God allows this pain to happen?!"  I don't have an answer, and I still falter in my faith and ask "why" often.  I never expect to get an answer, and I'm all right with that.  For me, quite often, simply asking the question brings me peace.

Someone once explained to me their belief when I shared my faith question with them.  They said that God has granted us free will, but with free will comes pain and hurt that we can't always prevent or control.  It doesn't mean God wanted us to have that pain and hurt, but by giving us our free will that meant those things couldn't always be avoided.  The important thing to remember was that when we hurt, and we are sad, so is God.  At the same time, when we are happy, and we celebrate so is God.  If we ask God how such pain could happen, we also can't forget to ask God how such happiness happened.  And we need to remember to thank God for both, because we were given both with our free will.

I May Not Know How To Flirt...

I'm a horrible flirt...and no I don't mean that in a good way. I'm seriously bad at flirting.  I have this awful habit of only knowing a guy likes me if he tells me point blank.  And on the flip side of that, most of the guys I've liked only knew I liked them after I told them so.  Their response has consistently been, "I had no idea".  Somewhere along the way I missed the "How To Flirt" portion of my teenage years.  Now as an adult attempting to put herself out there more, I feel like a total idiot, and totally stupid when I flirt.

I've been having several discussions about my love life recently with people.  At *cough*thirty-one*cough* with no suitors and none in my recent past, I've been asked if everything is all right...A LOT! My simple answer has been that bringing someone into my insane life at this point would be unfair to this individual. I need to get other things in my life in order before I go giving my baggage to another person.  But to be honest, this isn't an entirely truthful answer.  Yes I don't think it would be fair to be in a relationship with someone while I'm still struggling with finding out who I am.  After a lot of psychological analysis though (yeah I know I shouldn't psycho analyze myself!), I don't flirt with men, because I have a bit of anxiety around men.

Social anxiety is a condition I have heard a lot lately.  Let's just say my insurance company believes in five quick visits you can be cured! (Don't get me started on the US health care system and mental illness...a rant for another day.)  In any case, it's something I've discovered I've struggled with my entire life.  This is no ones fault, but the fact is that I suffered several traumas when I was growing up that involved men.  Everything from doctors that physically pinned me down to put drops in my eyes (I have panic attacks going to the Optometrist to this day!), to neighbor boys who abused me, and more recently men who have just vanished from my life rather than confronting me about difficult topics of discussion.  Whether I like it or not, my brain resorts to being six years old again around men.  I think I'm an intelligent person, I think I'm mature, and I hate when I feel looked down on, or stupid. Men make me feel this way, intentional or not.  So there's a serious lack of ability to flirt with them, or even hold conversations with them sometimes.

I have to admit that I've come a long way.  There was a time when I would literally not be able to talk to a guy, even friends husbands, who should have been non-threatening in every way.  When I worked for Radio Disney though I was forced into a situation where I had to be comfortable around the men I worked with...so I learned to put on a face at events for the sake of the kids we were around.  At Disney I was a character, NSpired, and she was the more outgoing, fun, and carefree version of myself.  When we were riding to an event in the van, or at holiday parties, I was quiet, introvert, anxious, Liza.  Certain guys pushed me though, they challenged the introvert and I began to come out of my shell, and get more comfortable around men in general.  As a matter of fact one of those men I still consider a close friend to this day.  But I still have a hard time flirting, something about "playfully being silly" just doesn't work for me.  Feeling stupid, acting stupid, and being silly, just makes me feel uncomfortable and vulnerable...and I hate that.  And maybe my inability to flirt is why past relationships have fallen apart.

So I'm single, and my lack of flirting probably means it's going to take a very particular guy to be persistent enough for me to even know he's interested.  Social anxiety aside though, I'm not sure I'm ever going to be the flirty girl.  I have a hard time being playful...playing in general. And maybe that's my bigger problem, I don't play, and never really have.  Maybe it's time to learn.  As an adult, do you still play?

There are Up's and Down's in the Journey

I know it's been May since I last wrote a post, but to be honest things have been rather difficult again.  Although a gigantic weight has been lifted off of my shoulders that has been there for almost three years now, I am still struggling with other aspects of my life.

One big dark cloud that has been hanging over my head has been employment.  In case you didn't know the position I took in March didn't pan out for various reasons, meaning I'm back to working my two independent businesses, Wildtree and Handmade Heart.  Although I'm becoming more active with these businesses by doing things such as selling at Farmers' Markets, I don't believe these businesses will ever be my sole sources of income.  This means I need a bill paying job as well, and the search has been less than promising unfortunately.  Over qualified, under qualified, not bilingual, problems with background checks, location of the job in relation to me, and over saturation of the job market have all been stumbling blocks.  This means that I've had to place an expiration date on my Colorado life.  Come January, when my lease expires, if I am not able to support myself, I will need to move back to Kentucky and live with my parents again.  It's still not a guarantee that I'll find employment in Kentucky, or that I'll be able to live on a smaller income there.  It'll just mean that I won't have the concern of how to pay rent, or utilities every month hanging over my head.

Running, and healthy eating have also fallen a bit by the wayside.  Running has fallen out because I just haven't been motivated, and because of a recent scare with a woman being assaulted on the path I normally take.  My healthy eating has fallen by the wayside primarily because I've gotten a bit lazy in my eating habits.  Making a box of Mac and Cheese is faster than making curried chicken salad with creamed spinach and carrot juice.  I'm the first to admit that I really do enjoy eating healthy, I just don't enjoy doing the work to eat healthy.  I also need to stop telling myself that just because it's Organic, Whole Wheat Mac and Cheese it's not as bad for me. I recently noticed this lazy tendency in my eating, and I'm slowly trying to correct myself but stress doesn't help healthy eating.

As a result of my stress, I've had anxiety attacks. For those of you who have never had a true anxiety attack allow me to explain.  It's not just an overwhelming fear, it's not crying, or feelings helpless.  It's literally your body locking up in fear.  Your heart beating so fast you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, shaking so much the floor is vibrating, nausea, numbness causing you to literally fall to the floor, muscles tightening so much you can't move them for hours after the attack, and shortness of breath so bad it feels like someone is smothering you with a pillow. There are other symptoms for anxiety attacks, but these are the ones I know from experience.  These are the ones that give me paralyzing fear.

I haven't had an anxiety attack since I got home from a trip back to Kentucky to see my friends and family.  Before I went back to see them though I was having them pretty regularly...almost weekly.  Out of nowhere every emotion hits you, and then you panic, and then the attack begins.  For me tears were the first sign, then I couldn't breathe.  Living alone, having a panic attack, and not being able to breathe only make the attack that much scarier.  Of course your first thought is "I'm dying!" when you have an attack, so being alone you begin to think "I'm going to die alone, and no one is going to know I died till the neighbors call the cops because my rotting body is stinking up the apartment!"

I never said you're rational during these attacks.

Because of these attacks I have sought medical help, and my focus has been on my emotional health and well being.  The good news, I have confirmation I'm not crazy!!!! ;-)   The bad news, until I gain more control over my emotions and deal with things I need to deal with, having another attack is a real possibility.  I've been told I need to reteach my body how to relax, massage, meditation, yoga, hiking, movies, etc.  I also have to reteach myself that even though some of these things may cost money, my health is worth the time and money to do them.  Again that's hard since money is one of the primary triggers for a panic attack for me.

The point of this post was to give you an update, to remind us all that we're not perfect and always have to keep working at what we want, it's okay to admit that you need help, and sometimes we need to "spoil" ourselves for our own health.  I'll try not to be so much of a stranger, but forgive me if I take some me time from the blog-o-sphere to take care of myself. :-)

It's A Lonely Island

I know it’s been some time since I’ve posted a blog, but believe it or not I’m rather active online.  When I say active I should probably clarify, I’m active on social media.  Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram are checked as often as 10 times a day.  I’ve discovered that this has become quite the problem for me, it’s a massive distraction, which is one of the reasons I’ve been considering leaving them for some time.

We live in a world where phone calls, and letters, and even emails are obsolete.  Facebook messages and tweets are how we keep up with each other’s lives.  This has advantages and disadvantages.  For instance, I live in Colorado, and my family lives in Kentucky.  I’m able to post photographs and news stories I find interesting on Facebook, and they are able to then connect and see what I’m doing.  I have friends who literally live all over the world, and regardless of time zones we are able to keep up with the others life, and communicate.  I also run a business strictly online, and if it wasn’t for Facebook I wouldn’t have a lot of the customers I’ve gained in the past year.  So there are some definite positives to social media and being connected.

There are also the disadvantages of this type of communication as well though.  Recently the disadvantages have outweighed the advantages for me.  When your life isn’t following the “normal” path that is socially acceptable it can be difficult to see how others’ lives are so different than yours.  I would say that 97% of my friends and family have at least one of these things going for them, they’re either married/in a serious relationship, have jobs they enjoy, and/or have kids.  I’d like to point out; I have none of those things going for me right now.  Some of the reasons for that are my choices, but some reasons are beyond my control.  I’m not going to get into those reasons, and why I can’t change them right now, but know that I can’t simply “fix” them.  I’m okay with being single right now, I’m okay with not having children right now, and I’m even okay with working jobs I don’t necessarily enjoy just to pay the bills till I can find a job I do enjoy.  My life is moving in a different way than other people’s lives are, and as I’ve said in the past, I’m okay with that.

Sometimes though it’s difficult to see the posts all over social media about someone having another baby, or how happy they are with their spouse who is wonderful, or how fulfilling their job is.  Sometimes seeing those things, and knowing that you want them and don’t have them yet, is painful to see.  That’s the place I’m at right now.  I love my friends and family, and I love that they’re happy, but I also hate how seeing them happy makes me feel jealous, and unhappy in my own life.

I really am glad that my life has not followed the traditional road, but sometimes I wonder if the traditional road would have been easier.  Easier to explain to extended family why I don’t have a boyfriend (and let’s clear one thing up, just because I’m single and happy doesn’t make me gay!).  Easier to wake up and go to work when it’s something you want to be doing, not something you have to do to barely get by.  Easier to not feel like the creepy lady smiling at the baby at the store, when you have your own child you can smile at instead.

Yeah, yeah, all things come to those who wait…and things happen in their own time for every person…and when it’s meant to be it will be.  Save me the platitudes, because honestly it’s all right for me to feel this way!  There is nothing that says I can’t feel jealous sometimes, or unhappy sometimes, or even angry sometimes over the fact that those things aren’t part of my life.  It’s only a problem when you feel like you can’t talk to someone about it and so it weighs on you, becoming toxic.

I admit that because of all of these things, I’ve become distant to many people in my life.  I don’t stay in contact, and separate myself both physically and emotionally.  In essence I have put myself out on an island with those I felt like I could talk to, and relate too, because they were in the same situation as me.  Eventually though I ended up on that island alone.  I hate that, and I want to fix it, but I fear that I’ve burned too many bridges in the process and can’t repair some of the relationships I let go of.  I’m also afraid that I don’t know how to change.

I’m not deleting my social media because this would only separate me further.  Maybe it’s time that I stop checking it 10 times a day though.  Maybe it’s time we all stop comparing our lives to other people’s, and saying if it doesn’t match up then it’s wrong.

Miss. Independent

I've always been an independent person.  Even when I was young, I remember telling my parents I wanted to do things by myself, and on my own.  I think independence is a good thing, especially in a day and age where you often have to be.  I mean I began my own business when I couldn't find work in grad school, I became an independent sales rep for a food company when I was having trouble finding work here in Denver.  I'm finding ways to make ends meet, I'm attempting to pull myself up, and I'm doing these things on my own for the most part.

Can a person be too independent though?  This is a thought I've had for a while now as more and more people have been telling me I've become distant.  I've thought this as I realize I don't get invited out by people anymore.  And I've thought this a lot as I look back at my previous romantic relationships.  Sure I can provide for myself, I can take care of myself, I can do what I have to do...but it's sure nice to share the load.  Have I become too independent for my own good?

For so long I haven't had a choice, I've had to do things for myself.  Being away from my family, and many of my friends meant that when I got sick I had to make my own tea.  When my car's battery died, I had to either find someone willing to give me a jump, or call AAA myself.  When the trash needed taken out when it was snowing, I had to take it out.  I've only had myself to rely on for a long time.  When people ask to do these things for me, I find it weird, because I've had to do it myself. And often when they don't do it the same way I would have it's hard for me to see.  So letting go of some things that I've been doing for so long, can be difficult.

I was recently told that one of the reasons a past relationship fell apart, was because as we both dealt with a difficult situation I turned into myself for comfort, when they tried to comfort and share their pain with me.  Now this was not the only one reason that this relationship fell apart, trust me there were other reasons too.  It made me think though, how many people have I unintentionally hurt, and turned away, who were trying to help me, and I was being my independent self not seeing their offer.

Don't get me wrong, the idea of not having all the weight on my shoulders is a nice idea, but very difficult for me to grasp.  It would be nice to have someone to take care of me, friend, family, significant other, etc., but the concept is foreign to me so when people try, I guess I inadvertently push them away.  Does this make me too independent?  Am I too set in my ways?  Can I change?

My paternal grandmother was a rather independent woman.  She divorced her husband in a time when divorce wasn't acceptable, and she never remarried.  She supported herself, and my father in a career that was male dominated. But growing up I noticed things like her lack of social relationships, her strict ways things had to be done, and her her general "Curmudgeon-ness" as my family referred to it as.  I swore that I never wanted to be like her in those ways, I wanted to not only enjoy life, but enjoy the people I spent it with, and be flexible.  Part of me now fears that I'm becoming exactly like her.

I know people can change, and I'm hoping I can change.  I just don't even know where to begin this time.  I guess when you have a fear of being so far on one end of the spectrum and being totally reliant on others, you may take things too far and become too independent instead.

What Tomorrow Brings

Two years ago today, I began one of the strangest, scariest, most wonderful journey's I've ever been on...and it seems to all finally be coming full circle.

Two years ago today I packed up my car, and began the two day journey from Kentucky, to Colorado.  I didn't have a job lined up, I didn't know where I was even going to live when I got here.  All I knew was that I felt like I needed to be here, so I had to follow my heart and give it a shot out west.  I can only imagine this is what the settlers felt when they went west.  Hopeful for new opportunities, and better lives.

The past two years have been challenging.  I've struggled with financial issues, and employment problems, and building a life here from the ground up.  But the past two years have been fairly awesome at the same time.  I've done things I never imagined doing like snowboarding, and learned to step out of my box every once and a while.  I know that without the struggles, I wouldn't have had the chance to do some of those things I've done, and enjoyed doing.  I also know that I wouldn't have grown into the person that I have become.

It only seems fitting that tomorrow, two years after arriving in Denver, I will begin at my first full time job since 2007.  Although it's still not my dream job, and still not enough to completely live on, it feels like the first real opportunity I've had in a very long time.  It will give me the chance to finally complete my Master's, and at the same time, become certified in early childhood education here in the state.  At first it was difficult to see this place as the opportunity that it is.  Let's face it, we all want the dream right out of the gate if we can get it.  I'm beginning to see though that this is a chance for me to finally grow, and complete some roads I stopped building a long time ago.  It's also a chance for me to gain more experience, and continue learning.  It's a chance!

Many people have often told me that picking up and moving across the country without much of a plan was brave.  My response has always been in jest that it was that or stupid, I'm never sure of which.  The fact is that there is a thin line between bravery and stupidity, and sometimes we need to skirt that line more than we often do.  Moving to Denver was both brave, stupid, and a huge gamble.  I finally feel like in that gamble though the house isn't winning every hand anymore.  Sure they're still winning a hand or two, but I'm finally winning some hands too.  Sometimes you have to take a risk, and you won't know how, or when, that risk is going to payout.  You just have to keep trying, not give up, and hang on for the ride sometimes.  I don't know if this new job is going to be the "breakthrough" I've been waiting for the past two years, but I'd be a fool to not hang on and see where it takes me.

One of my favorite sayings is, "Don't give up on today, for you never know what tomorrow may bring."  Here's hoping things are finally coming full circle, and my tomorrows keep getting better and better.  :-)

Victories

Throughout this journey there have been small victories, but on January 22nd I believe I had a very big victory.  Monday the 20th of January, was my birthday.  As I've gotten older my birthday's have become just another day, and I believe this is true for many people.  You begin to not celebrate the small victory that is making it to a year older.  We often view this day, not as a victory, but as just another day to push through, only with cake.  This year I almost did the same thing, pushed through the day like it was no big deal, but instead I chose to make something big happen.

As many of you have seen I have my bucket list posted on this site.  There's nothing special about my bucket list compared to other people's, it changes, morphs, and adapts just like I do.  In the beginning of this blog though I tried to be sure several things got marked off every year.  In the past few years that's kind of gone by the wayside.  When I moved to Colorado, and was able to mark that off I kind of stalled with my goals and dreams.  For some reason just being was enough for a while.  I think we all need to do that sometimes when things get overwhelming, but we also need to pull ourselves out of that and get back to doing things that make us a bit uncomfortable sometimes.  So since I didn't do much last year for my big landmark birthday...I decided I needed to do something this year.

In March I will have lived in Colorado for two years, and one of the most common questions people ask you when you tell them you moved here is, "Do you ski/snowboard?"  I laugh because winter sports like skiing and snowboarding are such a big thing here, and sports of any kind have never been a big thing in my own life, with the exception of a soccer stint in Middle School.  I've always wanted to learn how to ski though, even before I moved here.  So after talking to some people about where to go to get lessons (I was not just going to strap some wood to my feet and hope for the best, I wanted to really learn how to not kill myself, lol), and learning about the differences in learning to ski and snowboard I signed up for a lesson at Winter Park Resort with my friend Leigh Ann who was also a novice to learn the basics of snowboarding.

Let me just say first of all that they sure as hell make it look easier than it really is on television!!! I felt like a toddler learning how to walk all day. And yes I even had to learn how to walk in snowboard boots which was a challenge!  After almost six hours of help, I found myself not only standing and going down a hill on a snowboard, but I found myself loving every second of it, even if I still wasn't able to let of of the instructor without falling.  Something that once seemed like an impossibility was not only happening, but was turning out rather well.  I didn't break any bones, and although I fell quite a few times (the chairlift is the bane of my existence!!!!) I found myself laughing each time as I laid in the snow.  I may never end up being an Olympic Snowboarder, and I may not even be able to do more than just keep my balance going down a hill, but I actually did it...and plan to do it again in the near future. (At least once more this season!!)

My very first attempt to move with both feet strapped in!

Getting off the chairlift may be the most difficult part about snowboarding!

Trying to go down the big hill for the first time!

Just taking a break because my legs were Jello!

I think every snowboarding trip should end with s'mores!!

My new goal is to be able to snowboard for at least 5 feet solo, without having to have the instructor hold on to me.  I have a feeling if I go back to the Ski + Ride School in Winter Park that will happen no problem.  (Seriously if you want to learn, go there they're amazing!!)  Many people would say that I didn't actually accomplish what I had marked on my bucket list, I didn't fully learn how to snowboard in one 6 hour day...but I disagree that it shouldn't be marked off.  Not only did I accomplish getting up on a snowboard and learning about heel side, and toe side and how to do them. But I think that by getting out there and trying it was a huge accomplishment.  We have to remember that we aren't going to be experts at everything, but that doesn't mean that by trying we didn't accomplish it.

I decided to put my thirty-something year old self out there and try something new.  Something many people will never try in their lives due to fear, or use their age as an excuse.  Not only was it a victory for doing it in the first place, but it was a victory for doing something many people wouldn't have.  This year I remembered that age is only a number, and only holds us back from the things we allow it to.

Thanks Leigh Ann for going with me, and for the pictures of me snowboarding (and the closing photo and quote which is perfect!). Thanks Winter Park Resort's Ski + Ride School for the awesome day and great instruction (I'll be back as soon as I have the money again!). And thanks mom for not freaking out too much at the thought of me going down a mountain with nothing but a piece of wood strapped to my feet. ;-)

What's Comfortable

People say that things happen when they least expect them, and when they are just doing what they love and having fun.  This week is my birthday.  I'm turning an age I will never fess up to, and I must admit that my life has gone in a direction that I NEVER thought I would be going at this point in time.  That's not necessarily a bad thing though.

If my life had gone the way that I believed it was going to go in I would still be in Kentucky, or Southern Indiana living a life that was "comfortable".  At some point though I knew that comfortable wasn't what I wanted.  I wanted to branch out, try new things, and step outside of my comfort zone.  Even this week I'll be welcoming my old age by stepping outside of my comfort zone and going to learn how to snowboard. (Mark that one off the bucket list!)  The fact is that sometimes it's scary to step outside of that comfortable state of mind we all get stuck in.  In my experience it's always been worth it though.

I'm an over-thinker, and analyze my life quite often.  This is sometimes a good thing, but this also has it's drawbacks.  For instance, I find myself over-thinking and analyzing whether moving to Colorado was a good choice or not every time I have a struggle such as unemployment or financial stress.  Was moving here a bad idea?  No!  I'm happy, I like who I am, and I've met great people and done some rather amazing things since being here.  But I over-think and analyze when things are rough, and of course I feel like moving here was a bad idea then.  I'd probably be in the same situations though if I hadn't moved here.  It's easy to blame your problems and struggles on having gone outside of that comfort zone though.  It's the easy way out.

Last night I was reminded about how over thinking and analyzing can be a bad thing though.  I was awake into the early morning when many were just waking up for work.  I hadn't been able to sleep, and what little dozing off I was able to do was interrupted by a reoccurring nightmare that began about a year ago.  You see a photo of someone had come up into my social media feed and reminded me of time I had spent with them.  I miss this person, but I removed them from my life for a reason.  Somehow they keep creeping back in though.  Maybe I let my guard down because I'm hopeful that they have changed.  Or maybe they push their way back into my mind because I need to be reminded that things change, no matter how hard we hold on and fight that change.  Whatever the reason I spent my night analyzing their place in my life, and thinking about why I had let them in in the first place.  This morning I found myself with the dark circles under my eyes from a restless night of sleep, an upset stomach, and a lack of ambition and joy to do anything today.  By over-thinking, and analyzing I had allowed that person to do exactly what I had pushed them out of my life for doing.

That person is comfortable to me.  They are my comfort zone, and I have a feeling that's why I let them into my life time and time again.  The fact is, I know I don't like how they make me feel anymore.  I don't like the person I am when I'm with them anymore.  It's scary to think that moving my life away from a person is a good thing, but sometimes you have to do it.  I don't want to be that person with them anymore, so I need to change and not be with them.  Just like I needed to change and move away from Kentucky to be the better me I have become since I moved here.

When I have stepped outside of my comfort zone, I've found new adventures, had fun, and discovered new skills and passions.  I'm not saying every time you step out you're going to find these things, or that you have to do these things every day.  I'm saying you have to step outside of that comfort zone and be a bit uncomfortable sometimes to find those things that you do enjoy doing, and love.  As I turn another year older I hope that I am able to do this more often.  To take more chances, be uncomfortable more, and find more of those things that I enjoy and have fun doing.  I hope that by doing this other aspects of my life will begin to improve and advance, and a snowball effect will begin to take place.  I don't know if that will happen, but I want to at least try.  First things first though, I have to try snowboarding before I can know if I'm any good at it and enjoy it.  ;-)

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I know over the years I have asked for many things such as, a Pony, Teddy Ruxpin, violin lessons, a television, even just plain old cash.  Over the years you have gotten me some items I put on my list, and some were just dreams of a young girl with no understanding of what the holiday's are truly about.  I know it's been years since I've written you a letter, or provided you with a list, but even a woman in her thirties sometimes needs to hold on to a holiday wish.

I have a special request this year, and it's not something that will be easily wrapped up with a bow, and placed in your sleigh.  It's a wish I've discovered many people have this time of year, but only this year I truly feel like I really understand why they are wishing for it.  You see, I don't want things this year under my tree, I want my family.  Although I know this is an impossible request because of work schedules, airline prices, and various other reasons it's still my only request this year.

Last year I spent the holiday's alone as well, and although difficult, what got me though was the belief that I would be able to be with them this year.  This year I found myself in another situation of being unable to be there again, and this time the pain is more raw, and almost unbearable.  I can't travel this year because I am again having to work, to make not even enough money to survive on.  My family can't come spend the holiday's with me, because with a mother who is a minister she is working Christmas Eve, and no one can afford the insanely high airline prices this time of year.

Sure my family has visited me for a week here and there, and I have been able to go and visit them for a short time as well.  The thing is that as a man who travels the world in one night I'm sure you understand Kentucky and Colorado are not close together.  I can't take a weekend to go back home, the flights alone would take up most of my time away.  And although technology helps span that distance, virtual hugs can't compare to the real thing.

I know I am not the first person who can't be with their family for the holiday's, and I know I will not be the last.  Military personnel, emergency workers, medical professionals, and various other professions have to work too.  And maybe I can't be with my family this year because I'm supposed to have a better understanding of what these individuals go through every year.  I don't know the reasons, but what I do know is that everyone deserves a little time with their family this time of year, and when you don't have that choice the holiday's are far from enjoyable.

My family under my tree I know you can't really provide Santa.  I mean elves can't make them in your workshop.  But maybe you could help me find my hope and faith this Christmas, because I've begun to lose those over the past two years.  Maybe you could help me find my belief again that I won't have to spend every holiday alone.  Because to be honest, crying every time I see a commercial on TV about a family reunited for the holiday's really puts a damper on your night.

I know New Year's isn't really your department, but it sure would be nice to have a job next year that would allow me to live comfortably and lets me have some time off to be able to see my family more than one time a year, and on the holiday's.  Maybe you could help with that.

I still believe in holiday miracles, and I still believe in the holiday spirit.  I mean it was 14 years ago today my mom was diagnosed with a life threatening blood disorder that turned that Christmas upside down too.  She's still here though, by some miracle she beat it, and she's seen and done thing none of us were sure she'd ever be able to that year.  So I know nothing is impossible as long as I keep fighting.

So Santa, as you get ready to pack your sleigh, and venture out on your one night worldwide trip, please don't forget to drop a little hope down the chimneys of those of us without our families to share the holiday with.  Some of us need it more than you know this year.

Liza