Dear Emma,

Kindergarten is drawing to a close for you, and what a year it has been. By the time you get to read this, I'm sure you'll have an understanding of how overly-sentimental I am and can probably predict that I've been a little emotional about you finishing Kindergarten. Because of course I am.

It wasn't an easy year for you by any stretch of the imagination. You happily existed in the comfortable bubble of your in-home daycare for the 3 years before you started elementary school, to the point that you somewhat ruled the roost. You were a headstrong, independent, confident child who could be bossy and mean at times. You tended to find the more passive kids and try to control them. Kindergarten changed that. The transition from your bubble to the classroom was exceedingly difficult for you, to the point that you threw up two days in a row within the first week of school. You had a belly ache every morning and cried and clung to me when I'd drop you off at the before-school program. I'd leave the parking lot with tears in my eyes and a knot in my stomach and I'd worry about you all day long. I even left work early a few times just to "rescue" you from school. You finally started to get used to things and the tears in the morning almost completely subsided, when the hurricane came. A week and a half of no school pushed us back about three whole weeks in regards to your adjustment. But onwards we went... and then grandpa died.

My darling girl, I know it was difficult for you to deal with grandpa dying. You were so close to him, and often told me that he was the funniest person on earth and that no one was sillier or funnier than grandpa. I think you were right. You shared such a special bond with him, one that was unique and will never be replicated. Grandpa loved you very, very much. Explaining to you that grandpa was going to die was beyond difficult for me as a mother, because I knew my words were breaking your heart and that goes against every fiber of motherhood. I want to protect you from anything that will hurt you, and yet there I was, sitting on the floor in your bedroom at daddy's house, looking you in your huge bluish-green eyes, and telling you that grandpa was going to die. You didn't understand at first, but seeing the tears in my eyes made you understand that it wasn't good. I took you for a final goodbye with him at Hospice. Only time will tell if that was a good decision or a bad one, because his appearance frightened you. On the way home that night, you asked a lot more questions about death and finally it clicked in your head what it meant. And then you started bawling your little eyes out. One of the most difficult things I've ever done, was to keep driving while your heart was breaking in the back seat. My heart was breaking too, and I just wanted to hold you but there wasn't a safe place to pull off the road. 3 days later, he passed. I came to see you at daddy's the next afternoon, and told you that grandpa had died. It took you a while to digest that information. You are too young to be able to understand your own emotions most of the time or to find the words to explain how you feel. You hit a classmate in the face in line the day before grandpa died, which was unlike you. I explained to your teacher what was transpiring and they were lenient on you, because they understood that grief is difficult for a 5-year-old to process.

So there we were... you were adjusting to the fast-paced life of kindergarten and dealing with an immense loss at such a young age. We were both in it together. And we made it through.

You amaze me, child. You have become a timid, highly sensitive, emotional child who feels the weight of the world on her shoulders but refuses to stop loving anyone. There was a girl in your class named Madison who was a bully to you (in fact, she's the one you hit in the face) and was very abrasive and controlling. I told you one day that you should try staying away from her since she was so mean, to which you replied "Madison is mean to me, but I still love her." And you do... you still love every kid you meet. Sometimes you may not like them, but you're still kind.

And you feel all the things. Every one of them. You are 37 pounds of pure emotion. I must admit, it's unfamiliar territory to me because I'm generally a bit more closed-off emotionally and function more in the realm of logic and reasoning. It's going to take some time to help you learn how to navigate your feelings without letting them control you, but we'll get there. In the meantime, I feel for you, because you being so sensitive means that you struggle a lot when you think someone doesn't like you or when I redirect you on something. You need a ton of reassurance from me after I get frustrated with you for something, to make sure that I still love you (which of course I do). But I've never known another 5-year-old to have as much empathy and compassion as you do. If you're ever in your own bubble, or angry about not getting your way, and see that you've upset me, you instantly snap back into empathy mode. Seeing me sad about grandpa passing away was difficult for you, even when you didn't fully understand what it meant for someone to die.

The fact that you ooze with empathy and compassion, struggle to adjust, and experienced a huge loss in your little life has manifested in some tics and twitches. For your sake, I hope they get better, because you are so sensitive to others' perceptions of you and I'm afraid that you'll be made fun of eventually. Kids can be so cruel. Your tics (a doctor said Tourette's) and your excessive amounts of anxiety prompted us to have you start seeing a counselor. We've been working on mindfulness with you to help you calm down a bit. You're way too stressed for a 5-year-old.

Otherwise, you are a hilarious and intelligent child who makes me laugh on my worst of days. You love making people smile and laugh. I'll often times open your backpack after school to find drawings and cards that you made me, with "I love you mommy" written on them. You also like making cards and drawings for the other important people in your life, and you thoroughly enjoy helping me whenever possible. You were recently grounded for stealing (twice) and lying, and the resulting boredom led to you asking to help me with chores. When we go to the grocery store for a couple of things, you offer to carry a bag or two so that I "don't have to do all of the hard work". Of course, your attention span for chores is pretty short, but I'll take what I can get. And you do them because you truly want to help me out. And lately you've been my number one fan, telling me that I'm the best mommy ever because I make good dinner and take such good care of you. I've been showered with tons of hugs, kisses, and cuddles. Sometimes they hurt, like when you come up behind me when I'm sitting on the edge of the couch or on the floor, and wrap your arms around me for a squeeze because you just love me so much. Except, you wrap your arms around my neck and squeeze my jugular, and I'm surprised I haven't passed out yet.

You are still waffling about what you want to do when you grow up. Most days you say you want to be a Weeki Wachee mermaid. I think you should be a nurse or a doctor, because you absolutely love to help people and make them feel better. Anytime I have a boo-boo, you offer to get me a band-aid and you really love when I give you permission to put it on me. You are apparently not afraid of blood whatsoever, because I shattered a glass bowl on my foot once and when you saw me rinsing the blood off my foot in your bathtub, you instantly became concerned and grabbed some princess bandaids for me.

For most of your kindergarten year, you were obsessed with the color purple, mermaids, and unicorns. Just after I switched your bedroom from pink flowers to purple and blue mermaids, you decided unicorns were your most favorite thing ever. Since I'm not made of money, your room has remained decorated with mermaids. You LOVE to swim, and you must be part fish. You started swimming on your own when you were only 3, without lessons, and it is still your favorite thing to do. It's the perfect summer activity for you, because it wears you out and you sleep so well. You got your first (of many, I'm sure) mermaid tail for your 5th birthday and always amaze the old folks at the pool in our apartment complex with your skills. You sometimes enjoy drawing and coloring, but it has to be on your terms. You HATE coloring for school work and often just scribble it. Your handwriting is not good, because you try to go too fast instead of taking your time. And you are still an ipad zombie whenever possible.

Your favorite food is probably still pasta with fresh chopped tomatoes and parmesan cheese (which you call shaky cheese). You also like pizza, buffalo chicken sliders, ravioli, salads, sweet potatoes, Chick-fil-a, popcorn shrimp, hot dogs, and tacos. You aren't the biggest fan of meat for the most part, and you definitely don't like onions. You'll eat almost anything that is cheese, but you have a sensitivity to dairy so we try to limit that. Carbs are your best friend. And you LOVE ice cream, candy, and Doritos.

Physically, you're teeny-tiny. Not the smallest, or even the second smallest, in your kindergarten class, but you are still comfortably in a size 5 in clothes and you're almost 6 now. You are about 37 pounds and 43.5" tall and very skinny. You have the most beautiful freckles on your face, especially the one on the 'boop' of your nose, and you're getting all kind of new little moles popping up on your body on a daily basis, it seems. Your eyes are turning more and more green (yay!) as the days pass, and you have mostly fair skin that tans easily. Your hair is a very light brown that gets bleached to dirty blonde in the sun during the summer. You love when I put your hair in a sock bun or a french braid and almost always put a headband or big flower clip in your hair before going to school or going shopping. Your sense of style is impeccable and you like to dress your best, even if we're just going to publix. But much like your mommy, you prefer to be in comfy jammies if you're just chilling at home. You somehow tend to stain every single article of clothing you wear on the first time you wear it. Oh, and you have really stinky little feet lol.

I love you more and more as each day passes, my baby girl. Being your mother has been a magical journey for me and I've grown so much as a person in order to be the best mommy I can be. We've been through a lot together already. This was the year that you gained a stepfather, which was a decision that was exceedingly important for me because it would affect you so much. So far, the two of you get along great and share a special bond. My only goals are to give you the most enriching childhood possible, and to help mold you into a successful and happy adult. I may not be able to buy you everything you want, or spend a ton of money on extra things for you, but so far you don't seem to mind beyond some temporary disappointment when you can't have a new toy every time we go to Target. Yet somehow you still manage to convince me to buy you something every time we're there. But it seems like overall, you love me as much as you do because I love you as much as I do. I can't buy your love; it seems you have the strongest bonds with those who buy you the least amount of material items. You just want people to spend time with you and be present with you. I swore I'd never get into the habit of sleeping with you, but lately I've found myself laying in your bed for 15-20 minutes at night while you drift off to sleep in my arms, because I really enjoy those moments with you. No matter how stressful my day was, or how much your 5-year-old defiance frustrated me in the evening, listening to your breathing start to deepen and feeling your little arms twitch just reminds me of how lucky I am to have you.

To my darling miracle, my spunky little ball of emotions... I love you so much, and I'm excited for the years to come as you grow and learn and we can start doing more things together. You are my whole world, and the most important thing in my life.

Love,
Mommy

10-10-2017

"You think you're ready, but you never are. It's never any easier."

We misread her. Her name was Mary, and she seemed curt and disinterested. At one point, my mom had said "she's just here to collect a paycheck." 

But on that night, it became clear why Mary was so quiet and seemingly distant- it's how she was able to do her job day in and day out. 

I stood in the family area while my mom talked on her cell phone, waiting for her to make eye contact with me so I could confirm that she was, in fact, talking to my aunt. As my mom avoided eye contact so she could focus on the conversation, I decided to go put down the bags I had brought with me that contained a change of clothes and some bodywash for her. I turned and looked down the hallway, and saw my brother talking to Miss Mary at her station. When he noticed me standing there, he took very deliberate steps towards me and mouthed the words "I think he's gone." 

It shouldn't have been a surprise. I knew it was coming. I just... didn't think it would happen like that. As he wrapped his arms around me, I turned towards the room and he said "are you sure you want to go in there?" I said yes as I reached for the doorknob. Miss Mary and the nurse went in with us, to confirm what was absolutely apparent from the moment I walked into that room. 

My dad was gone.

I know I set down the bags at some point, but my memory indicates that they just somehow magically disappeared because I don't recall putting them down. My brother held me in his arms while I sobbed, until the nurse realized that someone needed to let my mom know what was transpiring before she walked into the room and was greeted with grief. It was pretty clear that I was in no position to be the one to tell her, so Miss Mary walked over to me to comfort me while my brother went to deliver the news. Without hesitation, she wrapped me in her arms and rubbed my back, and said those words. "You think you're ready, but you never are. It's never any easier." She continued to just hold me and rub my back while I sobbed, and handed me a tissue, I think. I suppose the tissue didn't magically appear in my hand, but I also know that tissues had become rotating tenants in my pockets that week.

The next few hours were a numb blur. We sat in a small room, making phone calls, sending texts, and crying. I remember sitting in the candlelit chapel, quietly crying by myself and wondering what was supposed to happen next. My oldest brother arrived and we greeted him at the front near the chapel. I remember I was shaking, and couldn't tell if I was cold or if it was from emotion. We all went back into the room together and began gathering our belongings. That part felt so weird, as we methodically packed everything up while my dad's empty vessel laid on the bed. We took our turns saying goodbye, and I kissed his cheek one last time.

Of course no one can prepare you for the death of a loved one, and no one can prepare you to watch a loved one die. I've been fortunate in a way, because my experiences with grief and loss have been few and far between but it also means that losing my dad completely flipped my world upside down. There's this thing that happens when you don't experience death up-close, and it makes you less aware of what death really means and what it looks like. But you don't even realize that, until it suddenly changes and you find yourself thinking about a lot of "what-ifs" that had never crossed your mind before. 

But what I hadn't expected was the days spent grappling with my own emotions and thought processes because I never envisioned myself being caught in between wanting one more day with my dad and wanting it to all be over. And that sounds harsh. I certainly didn't want my dad to die... there were countless times that I screamed at the universe to just give me my dad back and make him well again. My heart was waging war against itself because I couldn't bear to see my dad go and I couldn't bear to see my dad suffer any longer and there's no way to reconcile those two things. I was clinging to every moment of being able to hold his hand while praying that he wouldn't suffer any more. And that, folks, is the worst position to be in. I don't think it gets any more horrible than that moment.

I've heard that it sucks to watch someone die from cancer but I didn't know the extent of it until it slowly, then rapidly, destroyed my dad and took him from me forever. I felt like I had lost him in May when the cancer started to take hold, and then I felt like we got most of him back around July when he started to get a little better. By the end of August, my hope was fading and fear was taking over. By September, I knew we wouldn't have another Christmas with him. 

We did have one last beautiful moment with him the day before he died. He had started having panic attacks when he would wake up confused and in pain, and the nurses and doctors were continually adding and adjusting his medications to keep him calm and comfortable. The tumor on the side of his face had started rapidly spreading down his neck and pinching some nerves which caused horrible pain in his arm. A massage therapist came by and massaged his arm for him, and he fell asleep and rested calmly for the first time in a while. But it was short-lived. After another panic attack later that afternoon, he began falling back asleep. My mom was holding his hand and said "Bill, you've got quite a gathering here... I wish you could see. The kids are all here... you are so loved." At that point, my dad looked right at me as I stood at the end of his bed and I could tell he could see me (he had started sleeping with his eyes open). He then looked to the side and saw my brothers and sister-in-law and said "I love you all so much..." By then, it had become nearly impossible for him to speak because the tumor on his jaw had paralyzed that half of his face. We surrounded his bed, each of us laying our hands on him and telling him we loved him through tears and sobs. He put his palms together, raised his hands to his face, and said "God, please take care of my family." That was the one and only time I've ever heard my dad pray. He immediately fell back asleep, and slipped into somewhat of a coma. We thought that was it, and that he'd just slowly slip away from that point forward.

I sat next to his bed for a while that evening, holding his hand while we all watched the Lightning game. I could feel him squeezing my hand every so often and at first I thought it was only reflexes, until I noticed him doing it after someone would say something or if I'd squeeze his hand first. I looked at my mom and said "I hope he's not in any pain right now and just can't tell us." My mom said he couldn't feel anything anymore. And then he squeezed my hand again. About 5 minutes later, after the hockey game went into overtime, he choked and gasped and began panicking again. It took a while to get him calm. During that time, the Lightning scored their game-winning goal and we let him know what happened. Through his panic and confusion, he softly clapped his hands. I can't help but sadly smile when I think of that moment... of course my dad would awaken from a coma-like state to find out the outcome of the game. Of course. The nurses got him comfortable again, and I went to my parents' house to get some sleep. My mom said he awakened one more time that night and didn't know where he was. She told him he was in Hospice and that he had cancer, and that it was okay for him to go now. He asked "I fought a good fight?" and my mom told him "yes, you fought a good fight."

The next day was rough. As his body was shutting down, he began choking on phlegm that was accumulating in his throat. About 10 days before he passed, he began throwing up after his second immunotherapy treatment. From that day forward, he was unable to eat or drink much of anything. Even a few sips of water to take medications would make him feel full and despite being horribly thirsty, he just wasn't able to drink much. The doctor said the tumors on his liver were affecting his appetite and making him feel like he was too full when he wasn't. So after 10 days of barely eating or drinking, the dehydration was creating some issues with his throat. His breathing was slow and labored, and coupled with gurgling and it was very, very difficult to witness. He'd start to choke, which would startle him awake, and he'd say "help me, help me" until he'd slip back under again. I found myself becoming frantic for someone to help him because logically when someone is in that state, someone is supposed to help him. But obviously I knew they couldn't. I excused myself to go outside and talk to my now-fiance for a bit. When I came back to the room, they had turned him on his side and laid him flat, and he was finally breathing better. Still slow and labored, but he was no longer gurgling or choking. It was then that I was forced to stare down the evil that had done this to us- the tumor that had formed on his jaw (under the skin between his jaw and his ear) was now enormous-about the size of a navel orange- and had pushed through the skin. With him laying on his side, I was no longer able to avoid it. It was what was taking my father from me.

I left later that night to go get my mom a change of clothes and some soap. She hadn't originally intended on staying overnight the night before, but my dad's rapidly deteriorating condition and panic attacks made her decide to stay. We knew she'd stay the night again, and when my brother went to the house to get a few things, I thought about asking him to get some clothes for her and for some reason felt very compelled to do it myself. I chalked it up to not wanting to make him go through my mom's underwear drawer. I also just felt like I needed to leave for a little bit. When I was at the house, I found myself taking way more time than I had intended to. My aunt called the house phone, but I decided it was a call I wasn't able to handle and let it go to voicemail. I figured I'd let my mom know to call her when I got back to Hospice. It was about the time that I pulled back into the parking lot that my father departed this earth.

The nurse said that she sees it happen like that all the time- a patient will wait for a certain person or people to be out of the room before they pass. I know for certain that my dad waited for my mom to leave the room. Whether or not he also waited for me to go, I don't know, but knowing my dad he wouldn't have wanted me there either. I don't think he was able to fully let go until he couldn't feel my mom's presence with him anymore. He passed while my brother quietly sat with him. 

And so began the next battle, as the pain mixed with a sense of relief and then I felt like a horrible human being for feeling any kind of relief that someone I love that much was gone. Of course I wasn't relieved that he was dead but I was relieved that he wasn't suffering anymore, but I still found myself struggling with my own emotions more than I ever have in my life. 

There's no way to quantify grief and there's no one route that's "easiest". The last 6 months of my dad's life were horribly difficult for all of us, because watching him suffer was torture in its own way. When the cancer broke his back in May, I thought we were about to lose him right then and there and I begged the universe to just give me back my dad. And I feel like we got that gift in a way, because the first chemo drugs worked and then he began recovering from his back surgery. I remember sitting at the house one day when the phone rang. "It's David" my mom said, and my dad answered the phone from the other room. When I heard my dad say "Hello?" I began to cry, because I realized that I had my dad back, even if it was just for a short time. The chemo and surgery had made his voice scratchy for a bit, but he finally sounded like himself again. His sense of humor was mostly back, and he was smiling again. I will forever be grateful for that time, because I soaked it all up as much as I could, knowing it may never happen again. It was a delicate balance, to try to remain positive and hopeful but also be realistic and try to enjoy as much as I could with him, knowing that the odds were still against him. We had one last birthday party for him. I wrote him a letter to tell him how much I loved him and how I have always been grateful for everything he's ever done for me. I needed him to know, above anything else, that he was a great dad and a successful parent, and that I am who I am today because of him. I saw him pretty much every week between the time he was diagnosed and when he passed, and it's time I will always appreciate having with him.

I read a beautiful metaphor for grief, and my summary will do it no justice. But it compared grief to a shipwreck... suddenly you're being battered by the waves and struggling to just keep your head above water. You cling to the bits of wreckage floating in the surf, and each piece reminds you of the beautiful boat you once had that is no more. The waves crash down on you, one after another, with barely any time to catch your breath in between. You don't fight it, you just try to survive it. And eventually, the waves come less frequently and you have some time in between to catch your breath. They become less and less frequent, and less and less intense. Sometimes you can see them coming and prepare a little. But they never stop coming. They just get less frequent, and you learn how to ride the waves a little better.

Experiencing this grief while being a single mother has added an extra element of awfulness to the whole thing. I know my dad went through it when his mom died when I was six... I remember lying in bed, crying and unable to sleep. He came and knelt down next to my bed. For some reason, I vividly remember the nightlight illuminating my room, as my dad tried to comfort me. He said "just think about a carousel and try to get some sleep." I now have a better appreciation of that moment, as I've tried comforting my grieving child while I try to handle my own emotions.

I miss him every day. I have cried every day since he passed two months ago, usually on my drive to work. Something inevitably reminds me of him, and my heart fills with the all-too-familiar pain as my eyes well up with warm tears. I try to keep my tears from streaming down my face so that I don't show up to work with streaks in my makeup, but some mornings there's no use in trying to prevent it. There is a hole in my heart that will never be patched. My dad was a great man, and the stories I've heard since his passing have only further confirmed that for me. Everyone knew him for his great sense of humor, contagious smile, happy-go-lucky attitude, and the warmth he radiated. We all knew his laugh well- if something especially tickled him, he'd scrunch up his face, squint his eyes, and shrug his shoulders. The silent laugh was always the best. He had a hot Irish temper, but was quick to apologize and never too prideful to admit when he was wrong. He'd buy me flowers for my birthday every year when I was a child, and would do the same for my mom. He'd find little ways to remind us that we were important and special to him. He wasn't perfect, but he was a damn good father to me. He taught me the value of hard work and sacrifice, and there was never a moment in my life that I felt unimportant to him. He'd come home from a long day at work and would kneel next to my bed and talk me through whatever issue I was facing that felt so heavy to me on that particular day. It was always something seemingly small... I'd get picked on for not wearing makeup or shaving my legs yet, and my dad would tell me that the other girls needed makeup to look pretty, but I was beautiful without it. Or I'd feel like life was unfair and would lament over typical preteen drama, and there he'd kneel, listening to my every word. It was those moments that meant the world to me. 

In 12 days I will spend my first Christmas Eve without him. I'm prepared for it to be an emotional couple of days, of course. Christmas Eve was always filled with tradition and wonderful memories throughout my entire childhood. It was on Christmas Eve in 2011 that I watched intently as my dad read his card from me, announcing that he was going to have another grandbaby. I will never forget him looking at me over the top of his reading glasses, and saying "REALLY?" in complete disbelief while everyone else was excitedly unwrapping their presents and having no idea what was going on. I nodded my head, and noticed the tears forming in his eyes. Up until I sat on the couch with him the day after his PET scan results in April, the only times I could remember seeing my dad cry were when he was crying tears of joy. Those are the memories I will cling to.

Bye, Felicia.

It's February. And I'm posting my 2016 New Year's Eve post, which is a success if you ask me, because I posted Emma's bday post like five months late because that's my new motto: "better late than never." *stares in mirror with judgmental eyes*

Yeah so, a whole ton of people seem to agree that 2016 was a bullshit year. If ever there was a year that we could just mulligan and do over... it would be 2016.

But it's over now. Bye, Felicia.

Will 2017 be better? Who knows. It could be an extension of the shit show, or it could give way to better, brighter things. I'll always remain hopeful and positive, because that's what I do. (and, since it's now February, I can say that 2017 at least started off on a better foot and the future is looking bright. I even already managed a second trip to Alaska, which included the most amazing Valentine's date EVER and is probably the start of something really, really wonderful *enormous grin*)

On New Year's Eve of 2015, leading into 2016, I was broken. I was so lost and confused, having no idea what the next year would look like. I didn't know where I was going to live, work, and who was going to be in my life. My separation caused an exodus of people from my life, and I was reeling from that. I knew my house would be sold and I'd have to move into my own place, but I had no idea what that whole process would look like for me. I struggled to find hope for those things, because I was feeling the weight of the enormous losses I was experiencing. Everything was crumbling down around me, and I had to wait for it all to fall and for the dust to settle before I could truly tell what the damage was, and what was left.

I'll avoid blogging about the first few months of the year, because I mentioned them in my 30th birthday post and I don't want to keep repeating the awfulness that was the beginning of 2016. Trust me, I started typing it all out just now and deleted it because it's god-awful and depressing. The good news is that I made it through. I have my own apartment, the dust has settled, and things are okay. Money is super tight, and most days it's a struggle to keep up. I'm one car repair away from financial upheaval... but. My daughter is happy and healthy and loved, my family is healthy (including my dad, big sigh of relief, although my grandfather has since passed and my family has been grieving that loss over the last month), and things are generally alright. So, suck it, 2016.

The obvious highlight of the year was my epic two-week wife trip to Alaska. I had originally wanted to go for my birthday in June, but then decided to wait until August/September so that I would have a chance of seeing the Auroras. Since i needed to sign up for my own credit card after the separation, I did some research and found one with good travel rewards, and was able to earn enough rewards to pay for all but about $98 of my tickets. Best $98 I've ever spent... so off I went, spending a whole day in airports and planes, headed straight for my platonic soulmate. And it exceeded my expectations. Not only did I get to see the Auroras (a lot!), I got to see an Auroral substorm that completely blew my mind. I stood on the top of a small mountain with my best friend, wrapped up in a blanket like a lesbian burrito, watching the lights shimmer above us. I camped on the side of a mountain overlooking a river, and watched the Auroras over a campfire. I peed in a whole lot of outhouses (eww!). I camped on an island, and subsequently broke down camp and canoed across a lake in 45 degree weather in the rain. I hiked and climbed mountains, and relaxed in some natural hot springs. And I made a new, life-long best friend, too (who ended up blowing my mind during Alaska trip 2.0 and is now my total fave, SWOON)! The whole trip was perfection. Complete and total perfection. Alaska is my spirit state. Despite the outhouses. Oh, and I didn't get eaten by a bear #winning

It was an election year, which is always horrible in and of itself. But this year was a absolute circus, and by November 8th, I was ready to hide in a cave to avoid reading one more condescending facebook meme. Mostly, I was disappointed and saddened that in this great technological age in which we have the largest library of information at our fingertips, we still somehow fail to fact-check and consider our sources. My takeaway is that I'm going to make sure Emma knows the difference between spreading truth and knowledge, and finding anything on the internet that backs up what you already believe. And that goes far beyond politics, as well. The massive amount of pseudoscience spewed on social media (did you know that glucose is an invention of satan and that ridding your home of negative-ion producing electronic devices can reduce your risk of cancer by 57%? Google it, because I'm nearly certain that, even though I just made all of that up, there may actually be some website out there that states those things as Dwight-Schrute-fact) is astonishing to me. Anyone can make a website with a strong enough claim to scare people about cancer or petroleum products in our food, and BAM! People start believing it without any actual scientific evidence to back any of that up. Conveniently, the next argument is *insert conspiracy theory here about how scientists are paid to tell us what "they" (the "they" is never specified) want us to hear because corporations are greedy* So, yeah. Hooray for all of that.

So. 2016: divorce, election, all kinds of disappointment.

Anyways.

I did, however, grow so much as a human being. Or at least I think I did. Terrible situations like divorce can either turn a person into a bitter, angry human being or can force a person into becoming a better, stronger human being. I chose the latter as my goal, and I think I'm on my way.

Q&A time, because I was a Livejournal kid and it's nostalgic and such.

"1. What did you do in 2016 that you'd never done before?
Saw the Northern Lights, went camping in ALASKA, rode an ATV in the mountains, saw Denali, went trail running for the first time (I'm hooked!), ran my first 5k race, did a mud run 5k, got tattoos, took my kid out of state on vacation for the first time, climbed a mountain from base to top, moved into my very own apartment and started living on my own, took kiddo to Disney, flew 5400 miles all by myself, etc. (what a year!)

2. Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
No. I don't make New Year's resolutions. My goal for the year, though, was to process and heal from my separation and divorce, and to learn how to successfully live on my own and be independent. I think I managed to do all of those things!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No one super close to me, but lots of my friends had the cutest little babies!

4. Did anyone close to you die?
I am so, so grateful that I can say "no" to this one again this year. I know that answer will change one year, but for now, I am very thankful to have all of my loved ones. This was an incredibly tragic year for many people... it seemed like every month I was hearing of a tragic loss. Sigh.

**update: since I started this post when I was supposed to (back in the beginning of December), but am finishing it two months later, I feel it's apt to mention the terrible loss of my maternal grandfather. He passed on January 21, after spending a week in Hospice surrounded by his loved ones. I was sad that I wasn't able to make it up there to see him, but will cling tightly to the wonderful memories I have of him. Including the time that he plucked me out of the bottom of the pool when I was a wee tot and fell through my inner tube and didn't know how to swim. The man literally saved my life. And aside from that, I always admired him. My grandfather was a very strong, sharp man who taught me a great many valuable lessons when I was little. He will be missed so sorely.

5. What countries did you visit?
I think I'll change this question to "where did you go on vacation?" since I'm too poor to go out of the country any time soon ROFL.
So, answer: North Carolina in May, GA/NC in June, lots of camping in Florida, Ormond Beach in August, Alaska in August/September (trip of a lifetime, can't wait to go back soon!)

6. What would you like to have in 2017 that you lacked in 2016?
Stability. More happiness, less tears. And money, although I know I can make it without that.

7. What date from 2016 will remain etched in your memory, and why?
My entire Alaska trip, for sure. My birthday. My first single Mother's Day. Those are the good ones.
The not-so-good ones (unfortunately)... Easter. 2/10/16... the day we got the offer on my beautiful home, and the day I found out my dad had cancer.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Running! Although by some people's standards, it's not much of an accomplishment because I'm still slow, but I went from not being able to run a half mile without stopping, to running 8 miles in the woods! I met some amazing friends in the process, too.
I also moved out on my own, for the first time in my life. And I survived. I have a fully furnished (too furnished, really) place that is entirely mine. I pay my bills with no help. I feed my child and buy her clothes and shoes and toys with my own money. It's not been easy for me, but I've learned to live a simpler life in order to provide for my kid, and I'm damned proud of that.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Keeping my emotions in check. I was a mess for the first few months of the year, and suddenly found it impossible to bite my tongue and filter myself. I said and did things that I regret, out of anger and being hurt. But I learned a lot in that process... sometimes you have to break into pieces and rebuild yourself entirely in order to be a better person.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Ugh yes, and it seemed like it was always something. Let's see. there was the nerve issue that caused half (or more!) of my face to go numb. My back injury. My calf muscle problems. Relentless headaches. Oh and, my ovary adhered to my colon, which then adhered to my abdominal wall so I spent the majority of 2016 in some kind of pain, including a few days in which I was a useless, hunched over lump of whining grumpiness. But surgery seems to have corrected that issue so far (fingers and toes crossed).

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Furniture for my new place! It was all used, but I painted it and made it my own, and I LOVE the way it all turned out. And my Baby Bunny! She's the best pet... I just love her. I also can't neglect to mention my super-sweet washer and dryer that I bought like a ninja. I was renting a standard set from my apartment complex, and decided to help build my credit by charging a new set on an interest-free credit card and paying it off before the interest-free period ended. Mission status: accomplished :)

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My boyfriend. While our relationship didn't end up working out in the end, he was instrumental in helping me through my most difficult time and helping me understand what it's like to be loved and valued and cared for. He decided to be in my life during my worst time, and I can only hope that it was worth it for him too. I learned a lot from our relationship, including the fact that sometimes two people can be really close but just not be compatible for the long-run, and that's okay.
My wife (my BFF)! We have never been so far apart physically, but so close in spirit. My trip to Fairbanks was the best wife trip ever, and we spent a lot of time becoming much closer and bonding over nature and recent life experiences.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
*crickets keep chirping from last year* (and it was an election year... enough said)

14. Where did most of your money go?
- bills, moving into my apartment, supporting my child. Ugh, I need a second job!

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going to Alaska! I can't believe I didn't pee my pants.

16. What song will always remind you of 2016?
2016: A few... "Let it Hurt" by Rascal Flatts; "Comeback Kid" by The Band Perry; and what's that Chumbawumba song? lol

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
Happier or sadder: Happier. I'm not all the way there yet, but last year on NYE I was completely shattered and couldn't stop crying. This year, I was in a much better place.

Thinner or fatter? Thinner, kind of. I'm more muscular now from working out and running, and then I lost some weight from my surgery.

Richer or poorer? Broke AF.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Biting my tongue, figuring out a way to not let my emotions get the best of me. And trail running! I really wish I had done more trail running, without a doubt.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Crying. Lashing out.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
Drugged up and in pain. lol. Xmas Eve at my parents' house, and xmas morning at my apartment with kiddo (the BEST!). Then Christmas Day with my in-laws.

21. Did you fall in love in 2016?
I sure did. I fell very much in love with a very good man, and despite having been so hurt by my divorce, I was still able to let myself go and give him my whole heart.

22. What was your favorite TV program?
Orange is the New Black, Stranger Things, Peaky Blinders

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Nope. I don't hate anyone.

24. What was the best book you read?
Ummmmm... pass (did I even read a book last year? AUGH!)

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Bishop Briggs!

26. What did you want and get?
My own place!

27. What did you want and not get?
My intact family, and every day with my daughter, sigh. I also wanted a new job, but that didn't work out either. And more money, which was also a big fat FAIL.

28. What was your favorite film?
Probably "Bad Moms" although I was fighting back some hardcore tears at one point. Too soon! And "What Dreams May Come." Oh and, I actually really liked "Trolls" #noshame

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I was off for the day, so I slept in (yay!). I spent some time with my baby girl, and then went for a run and had a surprise bday party afterwards :) First birthday party in ten years!

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably satisfying?
I'm not quite sure how to answer that this year...

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2015?
An actual baked potato? I used to be able to buy clothes whenever I needed them, but not anymore. I wore a lot more dresses, because I just don't have the money for a good pair of dress pants for work (and then having them hemmed). Lots more workout gear, too. And i may have actually gone to the store (briefly) in yoga pants once or twice so I'm pretty sure my transformation into a full mom is nearly complete.

32. What kept you sane?
My boyfriend, my friends, and my job (believe it or not!)

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Chris Pratt, duh

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Oh boy... let's see... abortion (pro-choice does not mean pro-abortion!), civil rights, rights for transgendered people, etc etc etc

35. Who did you miss?
My wife!!!!

36. Who was the best new person you met?
My soul twin in Alaska... I legit met someone who is exactly like me in nearly every way, except he's a big black Army Sergeant lmao. Instant best friends!
My new friends from run club! They are the best ever, and are some truly awesome and inspiring people.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2014:
Time heals. In the thick of things, it feels like it'll never end and it'll always hurt, but time does heal the heart.
I learned that sometimes you just have to let go, and understand that people make their own decisions for their own reasons, and you can't make someone understand something if they aren't ready.
I learned that I am worthy of time, and effort, and love. That I'm a valuable human being, and a strong one at that. I learned that I can be a working single mom and not die from stress. I learned who I am as a person, and what my deepest flaws are.
I also learned that sometimes the most painful decisions are the right ones to make... you can't force someone to be a person that they aren't. You must take everyone as they are. Of course there's always room for personal growth, and I respect anyone who has a constant desire to grow and learn. But sometimes people just are who they are, and that's okay. But sometimes a relationship, while good in the moment, just can't last forever if the two people involved are inherently different in fundamental ways. And when you come to that conclusion, the right choice (while painful for both) is to go your separate ways while you can continue to hold onto the good memories, instead of getting to the inevitable point of not getting along anymore.
One of the most difficult lessons for me to learn, although it seems like an obvious one, is that I can't force people to remain in my life. I have no enemies in life, or at least none that I know of. So I'm not used to people exiting. And exit, they did. I guess it boggles my mind to have a good, happy relationship with people one day, and then the next day they act completely differently towards me solely because I'm no longer in a relationship with their friend/relative. I can understand if I was some raging crazy person who did and said terrible things to people, but I didn't. They just disappeared, or decided that I was no longer worthy of their time and friendliness, which makes me question their genuineness to begin with. All of this sounds very passive-aggressive and like I'm trying to get a message across to someone but I'm not, because I can almost guarantee that those people who are done with me now are not actually reading any of this. It's just very disappointing to know that people existed in my life solely because of who I was dating or married to. Love me today, done with me tomorrow, although I am the same person I was yesterday. I've remained friends with friends/relatives of exes, and shoot, I even stayed friends with my brother's ex-wife because... omg, she's still the same person she was when she was married to him so if I loved her then, I should love her now. That's just my philosophy. But the lesson in this, is that I can't make people love me and I have to respect their decision to move on. I need to accept my losses as they come, and figure out how to move on myself.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"No I'm not leaving, even though I'm bleeding, even though this nightmare makes me wish I was dreaming, even though I hate it, I'm gonna take it until I win. Cuz I'm a comeback, I'm a comeback kid. Don't know why bad things happened but they did. I don't think I deserve the hurt I get, but I'm made for it. It's not the end, no it's not the end. I'm a comeback kid. Down for a minute I'll get up again. Looks like I'm breaking but it's just a bend, it's not over yet. Cuz in the end I'm a comeback, I'm a comeback kid... I believe in what I am, I believe in what I was, I believe in losing you I've never been given so much, I believe it's been a year, the worse one I've ever lived, I believe I'm better now than I have ever been. I believe that ever since everything went south, I believe in every word that ever came out of my mouth. I believe you missed me but you don't have to miss cuz I'm not leaving again... I'll save you a spot at my big parade, you're all invited on my comeback day. I'll serve you ice cream and lemonade."

Dear Emma (2016)

Dear Emma,

I feel like I went to bed one night, and when I woke up, my baby girl had grown into a preschooler. I marvel at the little girl that you've become, and often find myself being that creepy mom who stares at you when you aren't looking, astonished at your existence. The latest development that has been blowing my mind is that you are a miniature version of me, with different facial features. You have the same build as me- thin, with a long torso- and the exact same feet and hands as well.

In one of my recent writings, I mentioned that no one ever explains to you what it's like to know someone in the way that a mother knows her child. I've studied you every single day that I'm with you. I know where your moles are (so cute, I hope you don't hate them when you grow up because I've seriously enjoyed watching each and every one of them appear on your soft skin), I know what your head smells like (it's a mom thing), I know how it sounds when you snore. But I know your mind, too. And aside from the fact that you are stunningly beautiful, with your big, round blue eyes and your kind-of-curly and ambiguously-colored hair and the cutest nose I've ever seen (still don't know where that came from, just consider yourself blessed that you didn't get my nose or daddy's nose), you have an absolutely beautiful mind and soul. As you've grown, your personality has blossomed and I'm getting a feel for who you are as a littler person. And you amaze me. You are smart, and logical. You want to know everything, and you want to know why the world is the way it is. And when you learn something new, you apply it to your life, and gain perspective on everything that surrounds you. When we're in the car, you prefer to look out the window and see all that passes by, asking me questions when you see something that is different or new. In those ways, you're very much like me. You also have an incredible sense of humor and enjoy making everyone laugh. But you also enjoy making people happy in general. I've watched you develop a conscience and the ability to identify the needs of those around you. You are helpful, caring, and sweet, and I'm so proud of everything that you're becoming.

My dearest tater, knowing you and getting to be your mother has been the single greatest joy of my life. I hope you can continue to be the smart, independent, loving, empathetic, curious person that you are, and that the world doesn't dampen your flame. You have the potential for greatness and to make an impact on this world, but it won't be an easy road. That road is paved with heartache and disappointment, as you begin to understand the parts of the world that are ugly and mean. I can't shield you from that, but I hope you always know that I can be your refuge when life gets difficult. I will always be here for you, no matter what. In the same way that I bandage your boo-boos and lay next to you when the power goes out and you're scared... I will be there to help heal your hurt and make you feel safe when the world becomes dark. That's my promise to you as you get older and face this world.

But for now, you are my sweet, tiny little tater. So much of me wishes you could stay little forever... I'll miss your innocent desire to be taller than me, and I'll miss watching you try to figure out in your head how you can someday be older than me. One of the things I'll miss the most as you grow up is you having your filthy Elmo pressed up against your mouth and nose. Some day that Elmo will no longer be needed, but for now, I smile and laugh as you press him to your nose and take one last deep inhale before you throw him back into the car so I can take you into your daycare. You are so quickly growing into a big girl. And while I'll miss so many things about this stage of your life, I am truly excited to see what you achieve in life, and the kind of girl you grow up to be.

I love you more than anything in this universe, and I hope you don't ever doubt that.

Love always,
Mommy

We Survived Age 3.

So it's December 28, but since it's still 2016 I don't think I'm too horrifically late to post Emma's birthday blog. Right? (humor me) (edit: I didn't finish this post in one sitting... and, CRAP. Now it's 2017 and I've failed miserably)

My tiny tater tot is 4 now. And I am so relieved.

3 was bad. 3 was nuclear-meltdown temper tantrums, peeing on the floor out of anger, rapidly changing emotions, and increasing independence all wrapped up in the cutest little body with enormous blue eyes and (finally) long brownish-blondish-reddish curly/wavy hair. She was the sweetest, smartest little monster I had ever met, and she was almost the death of me.

But here we are, happily settling into age 4. The nuclear meltdowns are a thing of the past, aside from a few random and short-lived ones sprinkled here and there when she's overtired. She's starting to make more mature decisions and is able to name her emotions and ask for help when she's overwhelmed. Don't get me wrong- she's still a pistol. She's just a more calm, even-keeled pistol. Which is truly remarkable, when you consider the fact that her whole world was flipped upside-down in March when we moved out of our family home and into two separate homes. During my half of her life, she is crammed into a teeny-tiny apartment that is bursting at the seams with furniture that is way too large for this space (but I'm determined to get a bigger place one day!) , but she doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, she still loves the fact that her bedroom is also her playroom. Well played, broke mommy!

4-year-old tater is a sassy one, who destroys my logic on a daily basis. I've had a few of those moments when all I can say to her is "erm... yeah, actually, you're right about that" and then I slowly raise that white flag I've kept since she was born, surrendering to my 32-pound benevolent (mostly) dictator. She's wicked smart, and never-endingly curious. Apparently, I was the same way as a child. There's a long-standing joke that our children are miniature versions of ourselves when we were kids. And that our own parents sit back in silent contentment, knowing that we're out there chasing around our pint-sized paybacks. I'm nearly certain my dad is nodding at this point, and remembering when I would probably ask 53287659 questions in the span of 3.2 seconds. I keep reminding myself that it's good that she's so curious about the world, and that I need to continue to feed her hunger for learning. But then she asks me abstract questions for which there are no simple answers and suddenly I feel like a dope who shouldn't have been allowed to have such a smart child. Ugh.

She's tiny, too. *throws head back and laughs* Like she had any chance of being on the "above average" end of the growth chart. I think she's destined for the same torture as her mother: going shopping, and never finding anything that fits because pants are always 6" too long, and always having to look both ways in the grocery store aisle to make sure no one sees an adult climbing the shelves to reach the BOGO soup. She's already having clothing issues, as her waist is still a size 3 but her legs are the length of a 4. Hooray for adjustable waists!

Tiny, sassy, and way too independent. She'll cuddle with me sometimes, and she'll tolerate my hugs and kisses on occasion. It's always on her terms, and usually when I'm running around like crazy and don't have time to cuddle, but I do it anyways because I can't turn down those big, blue eyes.

She's getting to the age when she's starting to think about what she wants to do when she grows up, and while I know that'll change about 350 times by the time she actually goes to college in 14 years, it's interesting to see where her mind is at. While most days she aspires to be a mermaid (I mean... I kinda can't argue with that because that's what I want to be when I grow up too), sometimes she'll say she wants to be a social worker like mommy (ROFL she clearly has no idea what that means) or drive an ambulance like daddy. I do think she may end up in some kind of profession in which she helps people, because she seems to have a heart for that. I've just got to make sure I encourage that part of her as she grows up and starts to see the uglier parts of people and the world.

Alright, time for tater answers:

How old are you?
"umm four" *holds up four fingers with no hesitation*
What's your nickname?
"Emma" (I then clarified what a nickname is) "Tater"

What is your favorite color?
"Purple"

What is your favorite animal?
"Ponies... I mean, unicorns"
Mommy's answer: anything that is an animal.

What is your favorite book?
Emma's answer: "My favorite book that I can read is 'Blue Hat Green Hat'"
Mommy's answer: "Peanut Butter and Cupcake" Although she truly doesn't have a favorite that lasts for very long.

What is your favorite TV show?
Emma's answer: "My Little Pony"
Mommy's answer: It has been another year of ALL BLUES CLUES ALL THE TIME.

What is your favorite movie?
Emma's answer: "ummm... Alex in Wonderland"
me: "really?"
Emma: "yes"
me: "where did you see that at?'
Emma: "I dunno."
Mommy's answer: She's not big on movies, but for a while she loved watching Cinderella and Frozen on repeat.

What is your favorite song?
Emma's answer: "My favorite song is...." *stares off into space, very deep in thought* "happy birfday"

What is your favorite drink?
Emma's answer: "Apple juice!" (no hesitation)

What is your favorite dinner?
"ummm, I like... weeeeeee!" *starts scooting around in the bath, then postures like she's about to dive in head-first, at which point my mom voice comes out with a stern "NO"* I don't know what it is about this question that makes her not want to answer... maybe the fact that she's partially anorexic and just kind doesn't like food in general.
So, mommy's answer: still tacos

What is your favorite snack?
Emma's answer: "mermaid cookies"
Mommy's answer: all the carbs.

What is your favorite outfit?
Emma's answer: "the mermaid dress-up clothes"
Mommy's answer: Dresses! The twirlier the skirt, the better.

What is your favorite game?
Emma's answer: "video games"
Mommy's answer: Hide and seek

What is your favorite toy?
Emma's answer: "Elmo" (teehee, so cute)
Mommy's answer: the iPad.

Who is your best friend?
Emma's answer: "Mommy and Miss Linda. And daddy" (the daycare owner)

What is your favorite thing to do?
Emma's answer: "Swim in da pool"
Mommy's answer: Ask 987238765789 questions.

What's your favorite holiday?
Emma's answer: "ummm... holiday?" (mommy explains holidays and provides examples) "EASTER!"
Mommy's answer: Every holiday, especially if it involves presents and/or candy.

What is your favorite thing to take to bed with you at night?
Emma's answer: "Elmo"
Mommy's answer: Elmo. Every blanket in the house. 37 stuffed animals. 2 pillows that she doesn't use.

Where is your favorite place to go?
Emma's answer: "Disney World!"

Where do you want to go on vacation?
Emma's answer: "I want to go visit mermaids!"

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Emma's answer: "a mermaid"
Mommy's answer: She seems to be drawn towards helping people, so I'd say a social worker, doctor, or maybe even a veterinarian since she loves animals so much.

What did you do for your birthday? (I asked her what she wants to do on her birthday since it hasn't arrived yet)
Emma's answer: "had fun and played"
Mommy's answer: We took her to Disney, but you wouldn't know by her underwhelmed answer.

Goodbye, 20's

Mommy post again?! Whatever, I'm mommy and I can do what I want.

I'm 30 now.

Sigh.

No, really, it's ok. I'm not that girl that is all omg I'm 30 eww that's so old and gross blargh. Actually, quite the contrary- I'm looking forward to my 30's and all that these next ten years may bring. I've heard they are the best years of life, and I'm determined to make them that way. Yeah, you heard me, 30's- I ain't scared of you.

So, being the forever nostalgic person that I am, I began reflecting on my 20's and realized how much actually transpired in these past ten years. They are the foundational years of my adulthood and somehow, I not only survived, but I learned things that some people don't learn in their entire lives. For that I am grateful. The struggles and the hardships taught me a lot about life, myself, and what I want and need.

20's recap begin.

I began my 20's in a bad, dark place. I was fighting some enormous demons with a monkey on my back. This was my make-or-break moment, at such a young age. I was either going to succumb to the monkey, or pull myself up by the bootstraps and forge on.  I decided it was time to stop being a dumbass and somehow managed to get myself on the right path. Whew, that was close. And it was that fighting spirit, that inner desire to be and do better, that helped me through the rest of my tough times. My first name means "warrior" in Gaelic and there couldn't possibly be a better name for me. Unless there's a Gaelic name that means "so small she looks like a child, but with the fighting spirit of a pissed off Marine."

I had my very first surgery this year, for a rogue and stubborn lymph node. It was my first big health scare, as the doctor mentioned testing me for lymphoma. Luckily all was well and the surgery corrected the issue. I finished up year 20 as a student at USF and working full-time in a jewelry store. It was this year that I met the man that would become my husband. No traveling at the age of 20, though.

21 then arrived. Along with being able to legally drink while looking like a 12-year-old (goodness my ID was scrutinized by a bartender on more than one occasion), I also graduated with my bachelor's degree and began working in an adult mental health facility. I have some great stories, believe me. I very quickly learned how to command an audience and be assertive... ever try to lead a life skills group in a room full of very large adults having active hallucinations? It's great fun, trust me.

I also bought my first house that year. While most of my peers were partying and living the sorority life during their senior year of college, I was buying a house and planning a wedding. Real adult stuff, and I felt mega mature for it. 21 was also the year of my first plane flight, to New York, and later flew to Chicago.

22 was the year I got married. In retrospect, I was way too young. I didn't know myself yet- I had just fought off my demons 2 years prior and was still in the process of healing and self-discovery. Another lesson learned the hard way. But I was happy, and ready to spend the rest of my life with one person, for better or for worse. Rose-colored glasses, sigh.

It was also the year that I began my career in child welfare, having no idea what I was getting myself into, or that I'm one of the few "chosen ones" that can actually succeed in this field and make a difference. As I left my job in adult mental health, a few people very bluntly told me that I wouldn't make it in the field, because they had tried and failed or knew people who tried and failed, saying "good luck, but you'll be back." And here I am, almost 8 years later and a couple rungs higher on the ladder and still going strong. Sometimes others' doubt is the best fuel for ambition.

About two months after my wedding and one month after starting my career, I began having excrutiating pain during my period that was pretty textbook for endometriosis. My doctor didn't hesitate to send me to surgery to officially diagnose and hopefully treat it. Diagnosis confirmed- I was sentenced to a life of pain, yay me. About two weeks after my surgery was when we were hit by a drunk driver, totaling our car, yay. Travel this year: Jamaica, and it was splendid.

23 was mostly uneventful. We did some traveling... I believe it was the year we first went to Virginia and Washington DC. My first subway/metro experience woop.

24. Oh boy... this is when my life really began the rollercoaster ride that led me to where I am today. We decided it was time to start a family, which was a big, fat fail. I quickly figured out that my reproductive system was a hot mess, and learned the true meaning of desperation and hopelessness. Infertility rocks you to your core, and it was my first lesson in mourning the loss of a possible future. There were many days that I thought I'd never throw a first birthday party for my own child, and it was an extremely painful situation to endure. And lonely. As friend after friend announced pregnancies and popped out gorgeous, squishy babies, I sat on my bathroom floor staring at yet another negative ovulation/pregnancy test, wondering if I'd ever be a mother. It was a cruel irony... the first of many. I was the motherly kind, and wanted nothing more than to have a handful of children, but there I was with an empty womb and a sad heart. To add insult to injury, I was constantly bombarded with statements like "just relax. You're too stressed about it and you won't get pregnant if you're stressed" and "just start the adoption process and you'll get pregnant. It happens all the time" or "don't think about it. Pretend you don't want a baby and then you'll get pregnant." Augh. To distract myself from the frustration (and to "relax" as everyone suggested was the magic ingredient for fertility), I traveled a lot. Las Vegas, North Carolina, St. Augustine, Orlando, the Florida Keys, Jamaica again.

25... I started my 25th year feeling desperate and hopeless, and questioning my life path. I was unhappy with my career (I took a job transfer from child welfare to children's mental health BAD IDEA) and wondering where I should go next. I began feeling like my life wouldn't involve pregnancy or having children of my own, and my then-husband wasn't fond of the idea of adopting. When my fertility doctor suggested we start using injectable hormones to help me get pregnant, we discussed other options and decided on a surgery to clean out my endometriosis and burn holes into my stubborn ovaries with lasers. Yummy. A few weeks after surgery, I was off on another trip to Jamaica. I also returned to child welfare, this time in adoptions. A couple months later, something new happened... I ovulated on my own. I called the doctor, because I was on a self-imposed hiatus from fertility treatments (partially due to a lapse in health insurance from starting my new job) and the stars aligned just right. My health insurance kicked in sooner than expected because of a loophole, and I was prescribed another round of fertility meds.

I will never forget December 20, 2011. I set my last pregnancy test on the bathroom counter and hopped into the shower, thinking to myself "it's not going to be positive. Don't get your hopes up, KT. You're gonna have to order more tests too." I got out of the shower, and there it was. A faint second line on the test strip. I had peed on enough of those tests already to know that this was, indeed, a positive result. I wrapped a towel around me, and ran into the bedroom crying and telling my half-asleep husband that I was pregnant. And I was. I was gloriously, wonderfully pregnant. I spent the next few months proudly sporting my sea bands and fighting off waves of nausea, while giving off the pregnant woman glow and slowly watching my face puff up like a marshmallow in the microwave. So adorbs.

Shortly before my 26th birthday, a routine trip to the OB would send my life into a complete tailspin. The ultrasound showed that there was less than a centimeter of cervix separating my miracle baby from the world, so off I went to the hospital "to be monitored for a couple of days."

I celebrated my 26th birthday in the hospital, and was visited by my family who brought gifts and flowers. I was 29 weeks pregnant, and being pumped full of drugs to keep me from delivering my tiny baby girl. I lived in that hospital for 28 days until I delivered a beautiful, tiny, 4lb 5oz fighter. I shed many tears of joy and fear (hormones ugh) in the 23 days of NICU life that followed. Then she was discharged, and our family was complete. Mommy, Daddy, the dog, and the plug-in baby.  Being a first-time mom with a sick preemie was the most stressful event of my young life. I can't even begin to describe the feeling of holding a 5lb baby who stops breathing and turns blue right there in your arms. That baby girl and I both fought hard that year, and it was worth it.

27... I was a new mom who had just bought my second house and gotten a promotion at work. My days were crazy. I'd wake up in the morning, get myself ready, get the baby ready, feed the baby, and take the baby to relatives for the day. I'd drive to work, and my days would be so hectic and crazy that I wouldn't even have time to eat or pee. The amount of stress and pressure at work was indescribable and on top of all of that, I didn't feel appreciated for my efforts. I'd then pick up the baby, bring her home, feed her, bathe her, and put her in bed. Then sit at the table by myself, eating a cold dinner. Mom life. This is when my marriage began falling apart, sadly.  But it was also the year that I celebrated my miracle child's first birthday, which was a dream come true.

I decided it was time to get back on birth control, because my hormones were getting the best of me. What I thought would be a simple trip to the doctor to get a prescription turned into being scheduled for a biopsy. The results were not good, and I was sent for a surgical biopsy. For once, I had good faith that things would be fine and walked into my post-op appointment feeling pretty well. My doctor let me know that my margins were not clear, and there were still cancer cells in my body. She discussed options, as I sat there numbly listening to her say things like "oncologist" "cancer" and "remission." The next few months consisted of doctor's appointments, getting familiar with the cancer center, blood work like crazy, a trip to the ER, traumatic surgery complications, and having a hysterectomy 3 days before my 28th birthday.

I started out year 28 uterus-free and loopy as hell from pain meds. And on my 28th birthday, I got the call from the oncologist saying they were confident that there was no remaining disease and that I had been cured. Best birthday present ever. Two weeks later, however, I began to bleed and a failed attempt at patching the leak sent me into an episode of traumatic bleeding. I was taken back to the cancer center where I began going into shock and remained there for a couple days until I stabilized and was sent home, exhausted and weak. But I survived, although I was significantly traumatized by the events.

My health gradually improved as my relationship with my husband began to worsen. My health scare was very eye-opening for me in many ways, and some of those ways weren't so good. Then I found out I was being cheated on, and my world slowly began to crumble around me.

I spent the majority of my 28th year of life clinging to and trying to salvage my marriage for the sake of my daughter. But at the same time, I also resolved to focus on my own happiness for once. I was tired of being a neglected wife and pouring my energy into someone else's happiness at the expense of my own. I also spent the year being mommy to one very feisty, wickedly smart, sassy little two-year-old who stole my heart every time she looked at me with those enormous blue eyes.

I got another promotion during this year, which sent me to work more than 35 miles from home, but the decrease in stress was well worth the extra drive time. We put kiddo in daycare and while our schedules changed dramatically, my sanity was finally restored. This was also the year that I experienced my first ever child death at work. It rocked me to my core... a decision that I made on a case (it was the right decision, and the state agreed and no one was found to be responsible for her death other than the man who murdered her) resulted in a child being killed. I questioned my career, I worried I'd get fired, and I was mourning the loss of an innocent child and her innocent grandmother. But I learned a lot through that experience, and it strengthened my resolve to continue working in this thankless field, despite the nasty backlash from people wanting to have a pity party in the media. 

My 29th birthday was my last one with an intact family, although I didn't know it at the time. I spent the next few months giving one final effort, until we inevitably separated. The heartache that followed was indescribable and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Divorce sucks. I sold my dream home and threw away my wedding mementos (ugly cry). I split my belongings in half and packed up what was mine, and moved into my tiny apartment. It was the second cruel irony of my life- I put my foot down and asked the man who promised me "forever" to be a better person. And he decided to do that... without me. For someone else. So the world would gain a better member of society, while I lost the life and future I had planned.

29 was the worst year of my life. One of my lowest points happened in February of 2016. I sat in my doctor's office waiting to explain to the doctor how I hadn't been able to feel half of my face since October, and after lots of testing, the neurologist concluded that severe stress had been affecting my nerve function. I checked my email in the waiting room, and found out that we finally had an offer on our home. I was initially excited, then stressed, then devastated, as I realized that my former life was really and truly coming to an end. I called my mom on my way to work from the doctor, and explained the stressful situation that was unfolding because of some unnecessary arguing about the sale of the house with my ex. After consoling me, my mom gave me the absolute worst news I've ever heard in my life. My dad had melanoma. Time paused, as my car went silent and more than just my face became numb. My mom reassured me that everything was going to be fine, and every bit of strength I had exited my body. I wanted to be strong, but I couldn't. I've always been strong in those situations, but I just couldn't. Not that day. Not that situation. I hung up the phone and sat in my car sobbing and trying to regain my composure enough to walk into my office. I felt like my life was crumbling around me... I was losing my husband, half of my child, my dream home, my financial stability, my future, and possibly even my father (my dad ended up having a very successful surgery and is healthy now. We are waiting to see what the next step is, but he is currently cancer-free. There was such an enormous sense of relief after we got his final pathology results and found out that his sentinel lymph nodes were clear... my father is one of the most important people in my life and the thought of losing him was absolutely devastating to me. It still puts a lump in my throat when I think about it). My friends and family banded around me during that time, knowing that I was climbing a mountain and just needed to make it through those few months so I could start to rebuild. I wanted nothing more than for my dad to be healthy, and be around to see me succeed again.

The months that followed were not good. I was very emotional and the struggles consumed me. I was not myself. I was an ugly, angry, hurt version of my worst self who said and did things that I'd never dream of doing on a normal day. But I kept reminding myself that the fog would lift, and that I couldn't give up. I repeated my mantra: "I will not roll over and wait to die." I was going to make it through.

I completely started over just before my 30th birthday.  29 was not pretty. 29 was ugly, and sad, and devastating.

But somehow, I pulled up the nose at the very last minute. The fog lifted as I had hoped it would, and I began to heal from the hurt and disappointment. I went through the motions... I was sad, I was angry, I was confused, and I was hurt. I let myself feel, I let myself process, and I let myself repair the damage that had been done. And finally, I was successful.

It felt like the sun rising after a long, dark night. As it crests over the horizon, you once again become aware of the beautiful things that were masked by the darkness.

The anger dissipated and the acceptance set in. The weight on my shoulders lightened. It didn't break me, though for a while I worried that it did. The hurt in my heart was being replaced with the love that surrounded me during my worst time... 

I spent my 30th birthday smiling. I spent time with my daughter, my wonderful boyfriend, and finished the night with a surprise party with a bunch of my friends. I was happy and felt loved.

And here I am now, 30 years old, and starting over.

But I learned so much in my 20's, and I am so grateful for the ability to fight through the struggles and learn from them, instead of letting them destroy me and make me into a bitter, negative person.

I learned that things don't matter; people matter. It sounds simple and pretty obvious, but I had to learn that one the hard way. Looking back, I was filling an emotional void with tangible items. The less I felt loved in my marriage, the more I tried to make myself happy with possessions. The real happiness came when I stopped putting my value in my things, and put more of my time and energy into my relationships with the people around me. It came at a difficult time, when some of the people in my life decided to make a prompt exit upon hearing the news of my pending divorce, but I still decided to rest my head on love and trust. I have an amazing support system and a wonderful group of friends, and a family that is always there for me no matter what. I'm closer to all of those people than I've ever been. Some of them saw me at my absolute worst, and chose to stick around. They chose to support me and love me despite the ugliness and I learned that those people are the ones I want and need in my life.

I learned that I'm strong. I'm damned strong. I pulled through some seriously difficult times and didn't let anything defeat me. I lost some battles, and I had plenty of moments of losing my cool, but I always rebounded and am back to my normal happy-go-lucky self. I have never let circumstances destroy me.

I learned that I can make some pretty stupid decisions. And I am lucky to be where I'm at today. I learned to listen... if something doesn't seem right, or everyone around me is warning me about something... then I should proceed with caution, or not proceed at all.

I learned that I'm worth it. But that didn't come until very, very recently. I spent years of my life feeling unimportant and undervalued, and ironically, my attempt to correct that only made it worse. When I asked for better, I was told that it wasn't possible. And then he was gone, in the arms of another woman. My friends, my therapist, my family- everyone- told me that it had nothing to do with my own worth. That this other woman wasn't worth more than me. But I didn't believe them for a long time... I wondered what was so broken and wrong about me. I thought of all of my struggles, my pain, my hysterectomy, the physical and emotional scars... and I felt worthless. Briefly. Somehow, the constant message being pounded into my head by others saying "you're worth it. You're beautiful and strong, and you'll be fine" sank in and I started to believe it. And I do believe it. My worth is not determined by my divorce. I'm not a failure. I'm not broken. I'm not half of  a person. I'm a whole person who is really (pardon my colorful language) fucking strong and valuable. I'm a damned good mother, a successful professional, and I was a damned good wife. And now I'm a damned good girlfriend. I have worth. I know my worth, and that's not me being conceited. That's me knowing that I have value. That I'm not perfect, but I'm good enough. I stumble some days, and  I question all of that. But overall, I know it to be true.

I am finding myself now. I am remembering how I'd much rather be outside than inside. I have urges to climb trees, and those urges are quickly dampened by my fear of spiders. I am spunky and sarcastic, but sometimes sensitive. I just want everyone around me to be happy and often times feel far too responsible for that. If I feel I've failed at making someone I love happy, a part of me crumbles temporarily. I'm working on that. I'm a peacekeeper. I curse a lot around people who are ok with it. I have a terrible sense of humor and love to laugh as often as possible. I don't like being around people with a poor sense of humor because they ruin my vibe. I hate running, but I do it, and am starting to love it (curses!). I don't watch a lot of TV and can never remember a single second of any movie I've ever watched, which is not very many. I procrastinate so, so badly. I like sleeping in and napping. I also like doing yoga and weight training, and love trail running and hiking. I want to climb mountains, and swim in oceans and lakes, walk along train tracks, go on road trips, drink all the beers, and take lots of pictures. I need to be appreciated. Some people don't need that, but I thrive on it. I hide my pain from the world (physical and emotional) because I'd rather not show weakness, and I'd rather not have the sympathy. I need to love fiercely and be loved fiercely. 

And I am a mom. It's not all that I am, but it's most of it. Bringing a little life into this world has been the most amazing, magical, chaotic thing I've ever done. I've read all the mommy blogs and articles and know about sleep regressions and developmental stages and teething. But what I didn't know... was what it feels like to know another being on that level. I know everything about her. Everything. I know where her moles are (omg so cute, I die) and the exact shade of her eyes. I know the phrases she uses, what makes her happy, and all of her fears. I can tell how she feels by her posture and by the twinkle (or lack thereof) in her eyes. I know how she likes her waffles made. I'm not a perfect mother, and I never will be. But she's taught me so much in her 4 short years on this earth. I can only hope to be the best mother I can possibly be and to give her the best childhood she could possibly have. She is absolutely the center of my whole universe and always will be; there will never be another person more important to me than her.

So there we have it, folks. My soap opera of adulthood, crammed into a novel-esque blog post for the world to read. I don't know what the next ten years will bring, but I hope they're more stable than my 20's. Please, be more stable than my 20's.

All the Single Mothers

All the single mothers (all the single mothers)... now put your hands UP. (I can't dance like Beyoncé. And if I tried, someone would likely call 911 thinking I was having a seizure, and you're welcome for the visual)

I'll never forget this Mother's Day. It's being added to the list of "Mother's Days that are etched into my darned photographic memory". But it's for good reasons.

Duh, of course this would be added to the list. It's a monumental Mother's Day- my first as a single mom. Future me will always remember this day, for various reasons. It was a pretty epic Mother's Day, and not because I got to sleep past 7:30am and have breakfast served to me in bed, followed by spending the whole day in bed watching trashy TV and smiling like a creep at all the mushy facebook posts about moms. Nope. Those Mother's Days are a thing of the past for me. This year was epic for the opposite reason. I stumbled out of bed at 7:20am to the sound of "mooooooommy. Mooooooommy." coming from the baby monitor. I crawled into her bed with her, and reminded her that it's Mother's Day (you silly 3-year old, now go make mommy some pancakes and start the laundry!). I asked for a cuddle, and she gladly laid her sweet little head on my chest and said "I saved this cuddle for you for mother's day. I love you so much." As I completely melted into a metaphorical puddle of goo, she then said "now can I go play with play-doh?" Yep, have at it kid... and here, let me open up the new play-doh I bought yesterday with my hard-earned garage sale money. I kissed her sweet little face, and told her I'd sit and play with her once I was finished making some elixir of life (coffee). We played with play doh, then she ate some breakfast. Halfway through breakfast was potty time, the time when we are both reminded that no matter how much control she has over my daily routine and how much she thinks she is independent and can do whatever she wants, she still needs me to wipe her bottom for her. Wash hands, return to breakfast. Well, SHE had breakfast while I cleaned up the kitchen. Then I asked her to play by herself while I showered.

My child is not usually that child that must interrupt my time behind closed bathroom doors. She usually leaves me alone... except on Mother's Day, when there's this VERY WELL KNOWN memo about how moms are supposed to pee and shower in peace for just one day. Apparently she has things backwards and gives me bathroom peace every other flippin day of the year except for Mother's Day, when she decided she absolutely needed to shove a peppermint lifesaver under the door while I was peeing. But then, she needed to reclaim her peppermint, so her tiny fingers appeared and swept it away. I was laughing hard enough already, but when I opened the door, I was glad my bladder was already empty, as she sat there wearing her pajamas and sunglasses on the floor. I died. She's too cute.

I did then enjoy a peaceful shower, put on my face, and quickly got us ready to get out the door. I ate a no-longer-warm bagel in the car on the way to get some special Mother's Day photos done. It was the perfect way to spend the morning, and now we'll have some absolutely amazing photos to remember this day. Complete perfection.

Then we started our tradition of delivering flowers to the grandmas. First stop: Grammy's work. Second stop: grandma and grandpa's house. Where she refused to eat a happy meal, had an emotional breakdown about taking a nap until grandma busted out the big stuffed polar bear and mommy ended up lying in bed next to her until she fell asleep, and then spent the afternoon keeping her grandparents young. On the way home, we had an impromptu Frozen sing-a-long, then played the rhyming game. When we got home, she went to play in her room while I made dinner. I threw out my back moving my mini-fridge out of my kitchen. She announced from her doorway "I'm gonna close my door so I don't hear your noise" because me making dinner was getting in the way of her ipad watching time. Then she sat down and ate a quarter of a hot dog, some corn, and half of a hot dog bun while watching "Blue's Clues" Birthday episode for like the third time this weekend. I went to grab her plate from her, thinking she was finished, to which she replied "I'm not, beautiful girl" and had a few more bites of the bun while one of her arms was wrapped around my waist. Gooey insides. Then it was bath time, which was uneventful, aside from her putting a washcloth over my hand "to keep you safe from the monsters because I love you so much." Then as I was drying her off, a cockroach crawled out from under her bath mat about a foot away from us. I shuffled her off to the side, then sprayed the hell out of the bug with kitchen cleaner until it scurried away and died in very underwhelming fashion next to the toilet. The child asked if I was going to clean it up and I said "I will... later. Now brush your teeth" which actually means "it's going to stay right there next to the toilet until my boyfriend comes over and takes care of it and until then we aren't going to use this bathroom for anything else in case it comes back to life as a roach zombie." And scene.

I tucked her into bed tonight, my heart full and happy. We had our moments, of course, because she's 3 and can't control herself. And I'm a mom and I get frustrated. And then ten seconds later we're cuddling and laughing again because we love each other and she's pretty wonderful like that. But at the end of the day, I'm grateful that I get to call her my daughter. She's astonishing.

5 years ago, I cried myself to sleep on Mother's Day. I sifted through my Facebook feed of happy moms with sweet little babies, pregnancy announcements, happy families... and thought, why not me? All I ever wanted was a family of my own, and there I was, with recent punctures in my veins from various blood tests and an empty bottle of fertility medications but no baby in my arms or my belly. I didn't know if I'd ever have a child of my own, and ever get to celebrate Mother's Day in the way I had always dreamed.

So today was incredible. It was busy, and noisy, and messy, and frustrating, and hilarious, and sweet, and exhausting. My back is killing me, my head hurts, and I'm pretty sure I forgot to take my blood pressure medications today. But hey, my hotdog was still warm when I sat down to eat it.  It was the best Mother's Day ever, because I got to be a mother. Maybe one day I'll have another "day off" on Mother's Day but... maybe not. I have every other week of not being a mother, so really, I don't even need a day "off." I need my days "on." They are the best.

There's another reason I'll remember this day...
I will cling tightly to the feeling I had deep in my chest last night when I rounded the corner towards my kitchen and saw two gorgeous mason jars sitting on the counter, each filled with bright wildflowers. And I'll remember how that feeling intensified as I listened to the story of how someone I admire so much put the whole thing together, from thinking of me when he saw a blue mason jar at work, to driving his truck around to different spots to pick the various colors of flowers he knew I loved. That feeling... of being important, and cherished, and loved in a way that I had never felt before... I'll never forget it. And I'll never settle for someone who doesn't make me feel that way. Future self, please don't settle for less than that.

I'll also remember it for how empowered I feel. Disclaimer: I sometimes feel awkward calling myself a "single mom." I almost feel like I don't belong in the club, because I didn't "earn" my wings. When my marriage ended, I walked away with a little cash (not much), a reliable car, enough furniture, and the means with which to start over. I have a degree and a stable career. I, in no way, had to pull myself out of a giant hole to get here. I had a good start. But so far, I'm kind of rocking it. I learned that I'm really good with money and budgeting, to the point that my savings account is growing before my eyes. I'm living a simple, yet happy life. I have enough, and nothing in excess. I'm not at all struggling with my parenting... in fact, I feel like an even better parent now than I was before. I've dealt with sickness, and vomit, and middle-of-the-night thunderstorms, mornings that started way too early, temper tantrums that my whole building could probably hear, and lots of messes that I was too tired to clean. But I'm alive and none of that has brought me to anywhere near my breaking point. In fact, I haven't even had an "I can't do this" moment. Somehow I manage to keep this household running ALL BY MYSELF. I don't get handouts. I really don't get much help with anything, because I don't need it. I got this. I have support, of course, and plenty of people who encourage me and keep me going. But I am largely doing this on my own and I feel so empowered by it. I worried how I'd take on all of the responsibilities that were previously handled by my ex, like the finances and some of the chores that he would do, in addition to everything I already did and working full-time too. I still hate doing dishes, but I do them. I make dinner for me and the kiddo every night, and I carve out some "me" time every week. I soak up the solitude and reflect, and generally feel very fulfilled and happy. On the weeks that I don't have my child, I stay busy with running, hiking, camping, and cooking fancy meals and getting my apartment cleaned and organized and ready for another hectic week of motherhood. Rinse, repeat.

So here I am. On this Single Mother's Day... sore and tired, but so very happy.